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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/33612-h.zip b/33612-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..94ef34e --- /dev/null +++ b/33612-h.zip diff --git a/33612-h/33612-h.htm b/33612-h/33612-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..688b26f --- /dev/null +++ b/33612-h/33612-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15400 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Land Of Strong Men, by A. M. Chisholm. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Land of Strong Men, by Arthur M. Chisholm + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Land of Strong Men + +Author: Arthur M. Chisholm + +Illustrator: Frank Tenney Johnson + +Release Date: September 2, 2010 [EBook #33612] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF STRONG MEN *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Roger Frank, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>THE LAND OF STRONG MEN</h1> + +<h2>BY A. M. CHISHOLM</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF <i>"Precious Waters" and "The Boss of Wind River"</i></h3> + + +<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY<br /> +FRANK TENNEY JOHNSON</h3> + +<h3>New York<br /> +THE H. K. FLY COMPANY<br /> +Publishers</h3> + +<h3>Copyright, 1919, by<br /> +THE H. K. FLY COMPANY</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="front" id="front"></a> +<img src="images/front.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Before the heavy snows these bunches were rounded up and +driven to the ranch.</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. Lost and Found</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. A Death Bed</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. Angus Asserts Himself</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. Judge Riley—Drunk and Sober</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. Angus in Love and War</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. Gain and Loss</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. The Frenches Again</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. Old Sam Paul Makes a Proposition</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. Dorgan</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. Before the Race</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. A Hold-up</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. The Race</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. Mainly About Chetwood</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. A Fight with a Grizzly</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. Faith Winton Turns Up</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. A Talk with Judge Riley</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. A Crisis</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. Christmas at the Frenches</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. Introducing Mrs. Foley</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. An Enemy at Work</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. Watching</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. Brother to Brother</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. Faiths's Farm</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. A Demand and Answer</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. Cross Currents</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. Conspiracy</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. While Shelling Peas</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. Mrs. Foley on Marriage</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. Sudden Death</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. Strangers Ask Questions</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. The Auction</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. Chetwood Unmasked</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. Another Surprise</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. A New Complication</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. Braden Misses Some Papers</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. Turkey Plays a Hand</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. Duplicate Deeds</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. Garland Plays a Hand</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. The Turning of the Screw</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. Signs and Omens</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI. Terror</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII. Outlaws!</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII. Taking the Trail</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV. The Red Avenger</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV. The Great Show-Down</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI. Strong Men</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII. Peace</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<p><a href="#front">Before the heavy snows these bunches were rounded up and driven to the ranch</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus1">He turned the corner, and came full upon a huge, old-man grizzly</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus2">Angus swung his arm against it, and it roared in his ear</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus3">To Faith these trips were a novelty, opening a world new and wonderful</a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>The Land of Strong Men</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>LOST AND FOUND</h3> + + +<p>It was light, but not yet day. The shadows of the night seemed to +linger, to retreat with reluctance; and as they were beaten back by the +sun, still far below the eastern curve of the earth and further +blockaded by giant mountain ranges also to the eastward, the clinging, +gray morning mists of early Fall came to replace them. In the pallid +light, a-swim with vapor, objects loomed gigantic and grotesque.</p> + +<p>The house which stood among the mists was of squared timbers, mortised +and fitted. It was unpainted, and the interstices were neatly filled +with plaster. The main part was two stories in height, but back of this +and joined to it was another log building, long and low. Evidently this +had been the original dwelling, to which the more pretentious structure +had been added. From one window of this rear building a light glimmered.</p> + +<p>The house was surrounded and in summer would be shaded by trees, +cottonwoods and soft maples; but these had shed most of their leaves and +the ground was yellowed with them. Close beside the house ran an +irrigation ditch in which clear mountain water purred and gurgled +softly. To the south loomed the roofs of stables, sheds, high corrals +and stacks of hay and straw. Beyond these were cleared, level fields. To +the northward, protected to some extent by the buildings and trees, was +a small orchard in neat rows.</p> + +<p>Now, the light in the rear window went out, and a moment later a door +opened and a boy emerged. He was apparently about eighteen, but +unusually tall and long of limb. At a casual glance he seemed to run to +legs and arms, but a second look would have shown that his chest was +broad and deep, and that his apparent ungainliness was due to age +merely. His face, naturally dark, was tanned to the color of an old +saddle. The cheekbones were high, the nose prominent, the mouth straight +and the boyish jaw firm. The eyes were dark, steady and sombre, shaded +by black eyebrows which slashed straight across the face, meeting above +the nose. The darkness of complexion, the heavy brows, the straight +mouth conveyed an expression almost of grimness. The boy wore a battered +felt hat, a fawn mackinaw coat, pants thrust into high socks and a pair +of moosehide moccasins. In his right hand he carried a rifle, in his +left a small cotton bag. The wooden handle of a knife stuck from a +jam-sheath in his belt.</p> + +<p>For a moment he stood sniffling the morning air like a dog, and then +with a light swiftness which gave the lie to his apparent ungainliness, +made for the stables. In a few moments he led out a brown pony. He tied +the cotton bag to the cantle, thrust the rifle into a saddle holster and +swung up.</p> + +<p>As he did so there was the sound of running feet, and a girl sped toward +him from the house.</p> + +<p>"Angus! Wait a minute!" she cried. She was apparently a couple of years +younger than the boy, slim, brown of hair, eye, and face, delicate of +feature. She held out a paper-wrapped parcel. "Here's some doughnuts for +your lunch," she said.</p> + +<p>But the boy frowned down at her. "I've got my lunch," he said tapping +the cotton bag. In it there was bread and cold meat, which he esteemed +manly fare.</p> + +<p>"But you like doughnuts," said the girl, "and I thought—I thought—"</p> + +<p>Her eyes filled with moisture which was not that of the mists, and the +boy either because of that or affected by the silent argument of the +doughnuts, relented.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, give 'em here," he said, and dismounting untied the bag, +thrust in the doughnuts, made all fast again and remounted. "Tell father +I'll be back in time to feed the stock to-night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Angus. I hope you'll get a deer."</p> + +<p>"Sure, I'll get one," the boy replied confidently. A thought seemed to +strike him. "Oh, thanks for the doughnuts."</p> + +<p>The girl beamed at this belated recognition. She felt fully repaid for +both the cooking and the early rising. For when a brother is going +hunting naturally his thoughts are far above such things as doughnuts +and younger sisters. Recognizing the propriety of this she turned back +to the house.</p> + +<p>The boy rode fast. He passed the boundaries of the ranch, followed a +road for a mile and then, turning into a beaten cattle trail, headed +eastward toward the flanks of a mountain range showing beneath the +skirts of the rising mist.</p> + +<p>The trail wound sinuously, rising from benchland to benchland, but the +boy stuck to it, for he knew that cattle invariably choose the easiest +way. Also he knew the country so near home like a book, or rather better +than he knew any written books. To him the land, lying as yet much as it +came from the hands of the Creator, carried more messages and held more +interesting things than any printed pages. Grouse scuttled aside or rose +with a roar of wings, and the boy eyed them regretfully. Once he caught +sight of a coyote, an arrogant, bushy-tailed youngster which, apparently +knowing that he was in a hurry, stood in full view watching him. Once he +stopped short at a momentary glimpse of something in thick bush. But as +he did not see it again, he rode on.</p> + +<p>While he still rode in the shadow of the eastern hills, the sun from +behind them struck the face of the western range ten miles or more +across Fire Valley. Behind that again it glinted on peaks still capped +with the snows of the previous winter. The sunshine moved downward to +the valley and eastward across it in a marching swath of gold. In that +clear, thin air to the keen eyes of the boy, peaks and rocks and even +trees miles away were sharply defined. Below him was a lake, pale silver +where the mists that still clung to its surface had parted. Half an hour +later it would take on the wondrous blue of mountain waters. But the boy +did not care for that, nor just then for the great unfolding panorama of +rolling, timber-clad hills, bare, gray peaks and blue sky. He was an +hour late and, as everybody knows, the early morning is the best time to +hunt.</p> + +<p>He had intended to enter a pass leading into the hills and turn from it +up a big draw which he knew held blacktail, but he gave up the idea and +turned along the base of the mountain. He was now in a country of +jackpine with huge, scattered, gloomy firs and chumps of cottonwood. +Numerous little spring-fed creeks ran through it, and there were rocky +coulees and small ponds. It was an ideal country for whitetail. There +the boy dismounted, hung his saddle from a tree out of the reach of a +possible porcupine, and put his pony on a rope. He glanced around +mechanically, noting the exact position and registering landmarks. Then +he levered a cartridge into the chamber of his rifle, dropped the hammer +to half cock, tucked the weapon under his arm and struck off parallel +with the base of the mountain.</p> + +<p>In motion the impression of awkwardness vanished. He walked with the +peculiar straight-footed, bent-kneed slouch which is the distinctive +mark of the woodsman and moccasin wearer; and is, moreover, extremely +easy because the weight of the body cushions on the natural +shock-absorbers, the ball of the foot and the bend of the knee, and so +is quite a different method of locomotion from the ordinary heel-jarring +stride. Also it is much faster than it looks. And so the boy moved +easily and silently, his moccasined feet automatically avoiding sticks +and loose stones.</p> + +<p>He did not hurry. Now and then he stopped, his eyes keen as a young +hawk's fixed on some ill-defined object, and he remained absolutely +motionless until it defined itself to his gaze. Occasionally he +inspected the soft ground, but though he saw many impressions of the +hoofs of deer he paid little attention to them. He followed the only +practical method of still-hunting, prowling along quietly and +watchfully.</p> + +<p>But luck seemed against him. Twice, in spite of his care, he heard the +thumping beat which told that deer, alarmed, were making a get-away, but +he did not see them. Being pardonably proud of his eyes and his ability +to move quietly, the boy was disgusted. Noon came and he had no meat. He +sat down by a spring which gushed cold from the base of a hill, and ate +his bread and meat and two doughnuts. Of the latter four remained. These +he saved against an emergency, and stretching himself on a patch of +yellow, sun-dried grass went to sleep like a young dog.</p> + +<p>In an hour he awoke, stretched himself, drank from the spring and +circling toward the mountain began to work back toward his pony. He had +covered perhaps half the return distance when he came suddenly upon a +young buck. At the same time the buck caught sight of him and set sail +for the protection of thick brush.</p> + +<p>Though taken by surprise, the boy was unflurried. He planted his feet +solidly, swung his rifle swiftly but without hurry, caught the leaping +form fair with the bead and squeezed the trigger. A second time the +rifle rapped on the heels of its own echo, and the buck pitched forward +sprawling, the stiffening gone from his slim limbs which kicked +convulsively.</p> + +<p>But instead of running forward eagerly, the boy scarcely shifted his +position as he pumped another cartridge into place. As the deer did not +rise he fed two fresh shells to the magazine methodically. There was no +youthful triumph in his face. Instead it showed a certain +dissatisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Ought to have downed him first shot," he muttered, and went forward. He +turned the deer over finding that the first bullet had stuck too far +back. Laying the rifle aside he stuck the animal and proceeded to dress +him. Completing his task he rose and scanned the brush thirty yards away +for a convenient sapling on which to hang his meat.</p> + +<p>As he looked, his eye was arrested by a movement in the bushes of +something dun or brown. Without taking his eyes from the spot he stooped +for his rifle, cocked it and advanced slowly.</p> + +<p>When he was within thirty feet of the bushes they shook, and the boy +halted, throwing his rifle forward, the butt halfway to his shoulders. +Then, from the shelter of the bushes out stepped a girl.</p> + +<p>She was apparently several years younger than the boy, slight, straight, +fair of hair, with clear blue eyes which, however, seemed a little puffy +and reddened. Her face, too, was streaked as with tears, and one sheer +stocking was torn so that the flesh peeped through. She held her arms +straight by her sides, her fists gripped tight. Plainly she was +frightened, but though her mouth quivered a little she looked the boy +straight in the face.</p> + +<p>If it had been a grizzly he would have been less surprised. The girl was +a stranger and, moreover, her dress of neat brown linen, her shoes, and +even the sheer, torn stockings, showed that she did not belong in that +neighborhood.</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" he said. She gave a little, gasping sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"Why," she said, "you're just a white boy." She spoke with a faint +little lisp, which was really enticing. But her words did not please the +boy who privately considered himself a good deal of a man.</p> + +<p>"What did you think I was?" he asked in as gruff a voice as he could +attain.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were an In-di-an," she said, pronouncing the word in +syllables; "a growed-up—I mean a grown-up-In-di-an."</p> + +<p>Having known Indians all his life the boy found her words unflattering. +"What made you think that?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"Because you looked so black and bloody," she told him frankly.</p> + +<p>The boy was disgusted. What business had this girl to call him black? +"What's a kid like you doing away out here?" he demanded severely. And +he added wickedly: "Don't you know these woods are full of grizzlies and +cougars and wolves? It's a wonder you weren't eaten alive."</p> + +<p>The girl shivered and glanced fearfully back into the gloom of the firs.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to get lost, really."</p> + +<p>"Lost, are you?"</p> + +<p>"I was," she said, "but now, of course, you've found me. I'm not afraid +now, because I know you wouldn't let anything hurt me."</p> + +<p>At this belated tribute to his manhood the boy's expression softened.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess you're safe now," he admitted. "How did you get lost, and +where from?"</p> + +<p>"I got lost from Uncle Godfrey's ranch."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean old Godfrey French's ranch?"</p> + +<p>"I mean Mr. Godfrey French's ranch," she corrected him. "You'll take me +there, won't you, like a nice boy?"</p> + +<p>The boy snorted. The ranch in question was nearly ten miles distant. Of +course she would ride his pony. He did not in the least mind the +walking, but it meant that he would have to leave the deer until the +next day, and meat was needed at home. However, there was no help for +it.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I'll have to," he said with the candor of his age. "How did +you get lost?"</p> + +<p>Her explanation was commonplace. She had gone for a ride in the morning, +and the mountains had seemed closer than they were. Tiring she had +dismounted, and had been unable to catch her pony. She had followed him +until finally he had disappeared, by which time she was hopelessly +confused.</p> + +<p>"Then," she said, "I walked and walked, and I found a lot of paths, but +they didn't seem to go anywhere. I—I was frightened. And then I heard +two shots and I ran as hard as could, and when I saw you I was +frightened again. But now of course it's all right."</p> + +<p>The boy grunted. It was just like a girl to let her pony get away, and +get lost, and follow cattle trails all over the country instead of +taking her bearings and striking for home as any intelligent being would +have done. Girls were fools, anyway. They were always getting into +trouble, and dumping themselves down on a man to be looked after. If old +Godfrey French was her uncle, why in blazes didn't some of the French +boys take care of this kid? They hadn't anything else to do.</p> + +<p>The boy had little or no use for the French family, which held itself a +little aloof from most of the inhabitants of the district. It consisted +of Godfrey French, his four sons and one daughter. The sons were young +men. They were all big, powerful young fellows, and one of them, Gavin, +was reputed to be the strongest man in the neighborhood. The daughter, a +long-limbed slip of a girl who rode like a cow-puncher, was about the +boy's age. Though Godfrey French had a ranch it was worked scarcely at +all. The boys did not like work, and apparently did not have to. Godfrey +French was reputed to have money. His ranch was a hang-out for what were +known as "remittance men", young Englishmen who received more or less +regular allowances from home—or perhaps to keep away from home. There +were rumors of gambling and hard drinking at French's ranch.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll take you home," the boy said. "You can ride my pony. He's on +a rope a mile from here. But I'll have to hang up this buck, or the +coyotes will chew him."</p> + +<p>He found two small saplings close together, bent them down, trimmed them +and lashed their tops. Over these he placed the tied legs of the buck. +With a little search he found a long dry pole. With this he had a +tripod. As he hoisted with the pole the spring of the saplings raised +the buck, which dangled clear, out of reach of all four-footed +marauders. The girl watched him, wide-eyed. To her it seemed a +marvellously clever piece of engineering.</p> + +<p>"Well, now we'll be going," the boy announced. He started at his +ordinary pace, but reduced it immediately because she seemed very tired. +Coming to a creek she hesitated and stopped.</p> + +<p>"Won't you wash your face and hands, please?" she said.</p> + +<p>The boy stared at her, but washed obediently. So did she, and began to +dry her face with a tiny handkerchief at which the boy cast a glance of +contempt. He drew forth his own, which was two feet square, and +originally had been figured in red and yellow, but unfortunately the two +colors had run together.</p> + +<p>"Here, take this," he said. But the girl looked at the variegated square +suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you. I'm afraid it's not san—sanitary."</p> + +<p>"It ain't—what?" the boy queried.</p> + +<p>"I mean it's not clean."</p> + +<p>"Sure it's clean," he returned indignantly. "You're mighty particular, +seems to me." Struck by a sudden thought he took the remains of his +lunch from his pocket and opened it, exposing four sadly crushed +doughnuts. "I don't s'pose you'd eat these, would you? Maybe they ain't +sanitary enough."</p> + +<p>But the girl who had had nothing to eat since morning, eyed the +delicacies longingly.</p> + +<p>"I—I'll take one, thank you."</p> + +<p>"Eat the bunch," said the boy generously. "I've had all I want. Sit down +and rest. There's no rush."</p> + +<p>The girl sat down, munching the crushed doughnuts with keen enjoyment, +while the boy stretched on the grass, his head pillowed in his locked +hands watched her curiously. Looking up she met his gaze.</p> + +<p>"They're awfully good," she said. "Did your mother make them?"</p> + +<p>"My mother is dead. Jean made 'em. She's my sister."</p> + +<p>"What is your name, please?"</p> + +<p>"My full name is Angus Struan Mackay."</p> + +<p>"How do you spell it?"</p> + +<p>"M-a-c-k-a-y."</p> + +<p>"But k-a-y spells 'K'. Why do you pronounce your name 'McKi'?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is," young Mackay replied with finality.</p> + +<p>"How many brothers and sisters have you?"</p> + +<p>"There's just father, and Jean and Turkey and me."</p> + +<p>"'Turkey'!" she exclaimed. "What a funny name! Is it a boy or a girl?"</p> + +<p>"His real name is Torquil," young Angus explained, "after my +grandfather. He's just a kid, like you. What is your own name?"</p> + +<p>"I am Faith Winton."</p> + +<p>"Faith Winton French?"</p> + +<p>"No, just Winton. Uncle Godfrey isn't really my uncle. That is, he is my +mother's uncle by marriage. My mother is dead, too. My father is Sewell +Winton."</p> + +<p>She stated the fact proudly; but the boy was unimpressed.</p> + +<p>"What does your father do for a living?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"My father is a great artist."</p> + +<p>"Is that so," said young Mackay. "You mean he paints pictures?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he does—great pictures. But I suppose, living here, you've +never seen them." Her tone expressed pity.</p> + +<p>"I've never seen painted pictures that looked like anything at all," +Angus Mackay returned with contempt. "There was a teacher at our school +that painted things, but you could not tell what it was all about. She +would paint what she would call a cow, but it would look like a horse, +all but the horns, and a poor horse, too. Has your father come here to +paint?"</p> + +<p>"No, he isn't well. He thought the change might do him good, but it +doesn't seem to. We are going away in a few days."</p> + +<p>But young Mackay was not interested in the painter's health, nor was he +specially interested in the painter's daughter. His immediate object now +that she had finished the doughnuts was to get her off his hands. And so +he set a good pace toward his pony, saddled, shortened the stirrups and +helped the girl up. No longer restrained by her inability to keep up +with his stride, he struck a swift, swinging gait which was faster than +the pony's walk. He paid little or no attention to girl or pony. It was +their business to keep up with him. He led the way without hesitation, +around sloughs, down coulees, through timber. When they had been +traveling thus for an hour or more he stopped suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Somebody is shouting," he said. "It will be your people looking for +you, likely. We will just wait here. You had better get down, for I am +going to shoot and he might not stand still."</p> + +<p>He fired three shots close together, and after an interval three more. +Soon afterward they could hear a distant whoop. Mackay answered, and in +a few minutes the search party which had been strung out combing benches +and coulees, began to converge upon them.</p> + +<p>First came Kathleen French, a dark-haired, blue-eyed girl sitting +astride a slashing, blaze-faced sorrel, and following her, her three +brothers, Blake, Gerald and Lawrence, the latter leading the pony which +had evaded Faith Winton. The pony had come in, it appeared, with the +saddle twisted down under its belly and kicked to flinders, and the +Frenches had united in blaming Larry, the youngest, who had given Faith +the pony and saddled it for her.</p> + +<p>"And lucky for you she wasn't hurt," Blake told him. He was a big, +powerfully built man, with a heavy, florid face which was already +beginning to show signs of the life he led. "If she'd been smashed up +you'd have got yours."</p> + +<p>Larry, a rangy, hawk-faced youngster, eyed his brother insolently. "I +would, hey! Well, not from you, and you can make a note of that."</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" said the sister. "Quit your scrapping. We may as well be +drifting. Climb up on this pony, Faith."</p> + +<p>Faith Winton held out her hand. "Good-by, Angus Mackay. And thank you so +much for finding me, and for the ride, and for the doughnuts."</p> + +<p>Young Mackay shook hands limply. "That is all right," he said, +embarrassed. But Kathleen French was reminded of an omission.</p> + +<p>"We're a nice lot!" she exclaimed. "Not one of us has thanked him for +looking after Faith. Well <i>I</i> do, anyway. It was good of you, Angus +Mackay."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sure," Gerald French concurred carelessly. Not so heavily built as +his brother Blake, he was as tall and finer drawn. His face was oval, +his eyes dark and lazy, and his voice a drawl. "Thanks, Mackay."</p> + +<p>"Ditto," said young Larry.</p> + +<p>Blake French, reaching into his pocket pulled out a roll of currency and +stripped off a bill. "No, no, Cousin Blake!" Faith Winton exclaimed, but +he held it out to the boy.</p> + +<p>"Here you are, Mackay. That's better than thanks. I guess you can use +it."</p> + +<p>But the boy made no movement to take the money. "I was not bringing her +home for money, nor for thanks either," he said uncompromisingly.</p> + +<p>Blake laughed loudly. "I never heard of a Mackay refusing money."</p> + +<p>The boy scowled at him. "There will be other things you have not heard +of," he said coldly.</p> + +<p>Blake French stared at him, and laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Well, give him a kiss, Faith. Maybe that's what he'd like. Or has he +had it?"</p> + +<p>"Cousin Blake, you're horrid!" the girl cried indignantly.</p> + +<p>"The kid isn't used to talk like that, Blake," Kathleen told him. "Have +some sense."</p> + +<p>"Where would he get it?" young Larry asked insolently. For answer his +brother cursed him.</p> + +<p>"Cut that out, Blake," Gerald drawled, but his tone was edged.</p> + +<p>"Then let that young pup keep a civil tongue in his head," Blake +growled.</p> + +<p>"Pup, hey?" said young Larry. "Well, I'll never make a yellow dog, +anyway." The insinuation was obvious. Blake's face blackened with fury, +but wheeling his horse he rode off after the girls. Gerald and Larry +with brief nods to young Mackay, followed.</p> + +<p>The latter stood looking after them, his heavy brows drawn in a frown. +Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he lengthened his stirrups and +swung up on his pony.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>A DEATH BED</h3> + + +<p>Deciding that it was too late to go back after the deer, Angus headed +for home. The sun was down when he struck into a wagon trail a couple of +miles from the ranch, and he had followed it but a few hundred yards +when he heard the sound of hoofs behind him. Turning in his saddle he +recognized horse and rider which were overhauling him rapidly.</p> + +<p>"What's the rush, Dave?" he asked as they drew level.</p> + +<p>Whatever the rush had been it seemed to be over. The rider slowed to a +walk. He was a small man, apparently in the forties, wiry and sun-dried. +His name was Rennie, and he was nominally a homesteader, though he did +little more than comply with the statutory requirements. In winter he +trapped and in summer he turned his hand to almost anything. He was a +wizard with horses, he knew the habits of most wild animals thoroughly +and he had seen a great deal of the old West. He and young Mackay were +friends, and he had taught the boy many things from his own store of +experience. As he pulled up, the boy noted that Blaze's bright coat was +dark with sweat and that his head hung wearily.</p> + +<p>"You've been combing some speed out of that cayuse," he commented.</p> + +<p>"He's been on grass and lathers easy," Rennie returned. "But I was—I +was sorter lookin' for you, kid."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see—your daddy he wants you."</p> + +<p>"He knew I was hunting. I got a two-year old buck, but it was too late +to pack him in. What does he want me for?"</p> + +<p>The question seemed to embarrass Rennie exceedingly. He gulped and went +into a fit of coughing which left him red in the face.</p> + +<p>"He wants to talk to you," he replied at last. "He—he wants to tell you +something, I guess. He—he ain't right well, your daddy ain't."</p> + +<p>"Not well!" the boy cried in amazement. "Why, what's the matter with +him, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"A little accident—just a little accident, kid. He—he—now you don't +want to go worryin' about it; not yet, anyway."</p> + +<p>But Rennie's effort to break bad news gently was too obvious. The boy's +voice took on a sharp note of alarm.</p> + +<p>"What sort of an accident?" he demanded. "Is he hurt? Talk up, can't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, durn it, kid, I'd ruther break a leg than tell you—but your +daddy, he's been shot up some."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean he's dead?" the boy cried in wide-eyed horror.</p> + +<p>"No, he ain't dead—or he wasn't when I started out to find you. +But—but he's plugged plumb center, and—and—Oh, hell, I guess you +know what I'm tryin' to say!"</p> + +<p>The boy stared at him dumbly while the slow thudding pad of the horses' +feet on the soft trail smote on his ears like the sound of muffled +drums. He failed at first, as the young must ever fail, to comprehend +the full meaning of the message. His father dead or dying! His father, +Adam Mackay, that living tower of muscle and sinew who could lift with +his hands logs with which other men struggled with cant-hook and peavie, +who could throw a steel-beamed breaking plow aboard a wagon as another +man would handle a wheel-hoe? It was unbelievable.</p> + +<p>But slowly the realization was forced upon him. His father had been +shot, and with the knowledge came the flame of bitter anger and desire +for revenge that was his in right of the blood in his veins. And the +desire momentarily overwhelmed sorrow.</p> + +<p>"Who did it?" he asked, his young voice a fierce, croaking whisper.</p> + +<p>"I dunno. He won't tell anybody. Maybe he'll tell you."</p> + +<p>"Come on!" Angus Mackay cried, and dug heels into his pony.</p> + +<p>The pony was blown and gasping as they rode up to the ranch and Angus +leaped from his back. Rennie's hand fell on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Kid," he said earnestly, "you want to brace up and keep braced. If it's +a show-down for your daddy he'll like to know you're takin' it like a +man. Then there's Jean and Turkey. This here happens to everybody, and +while it's tough it's a part of the game. And just one more thing: If +you find out who done the shootin', let me know!"</p> + +<p>The boy nodded, because he could not trust himself to speak, and ran +into the house. It was hushed in the twilight. Already it seemed to hold +a little of the strange stillness which comes with the departure of a +familiar presence. As the boy paused, from a corner came a little, +sniffling sob, and in the semi-darkness he saw his young brother, +Torquil, curled miserably upon a skin-covered couch. Paying no attention +to him he crossed the living room and as he did so his sister Jean +entered. In some mysterious way she seemed years older than the +girl-child who had come running after him in the gray mists of that +morning. Dry-eyed, slender, quiet-moving, like the shadow of a girl in +the gloom, she led him back and closed the door. He obeyed her touch +without question, without a trace of his superiority of the morning. In +face of sickness and death, like most of his sex he felt helpless, +impotent. He put his long arm around his sister and suddenly she clung +to him, her slender body shaking.</p> + +<p>"He's not—dead—Jean?"</p> + +<p>"Not—not yet, Angus. Dr. Wilkes is with him now. He says he won't live +long. He didn't want to tell me, but I made him."</p> + +<p>She told him all she knew. Adam Mackay had ridden away by himself that +morning, no one knew whither. In the afternoon he had come home swaying +in his saddle, shot through the body. Then young Turkey has climbed into +the blood-soaked saddle and ridden for the doctor. As to how he had met +with his hurt Adam Mackay had said no word.</p> + +<p>The inner door opened to admit a burly, thick-bodied man with reddish +hair sprinkled with gray and grizzled, bushy eyebrows. This was Dr. +Wilkes. He nodded to Angus.</p> + +<p>"You're in time. Your father wants you. Go to him, and call me if +anything happens."</p> + +<p>"He's going to—going to—"</p> + +<p>The boy was unable to complete the sentence. The doctor put his arm +over his shoulder for a moment in a kindly, elder-brotherly touch.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so, my boy. In fact, I know so. Keep a stiff upper lip, old +man. He'll like that."</p> + +<p>Adam Mackay stared at his eldest son hungrily from the pillows. Above +his great black beard his face was gray. He was a great frame of a man, +long, lean and sinewy. The likeness of father and son was marked. He +held out his hand feebly and the boy took it and choked. Then Adam +Mackay spoke in a little whisper so unlike his usual deep voice that the +boy was startled, and because it was near the end with him his words +carried the sharp twist and hiss of the Gaelic which was the tongue of +his youth; for though Adam Mackay had never seen Scotland, he had been +born in a settlement which, fifty years before, was more Gaelic than the +Highlands themselves.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be helped, son, and it is little I care for myself. When you +come to face death, many years from now, please the God, you'll find it +no' sic' a fearful thing. But it is you and the children that worries me +now, Angus."</p> + +<p>"Never mind us, father," the boy said. "I can look after Jean and +Turkey."</p> + +<p>The stricken giant smiled at him with a quiet pride of which the +recollection years after warmed the boy's heart.</p> + +<p>"I had hoped for twenty years of life yet, by which time you would have +been settled, with children of your own. Eh, well, the young birds must +fledge and fly alone, and your wings are well sprouted, Angus-lad. You +have in you the makings of a man, though yet headstrong and dour by +nature. And now listen, son, for my time is short: I look to you to +take the place I can no longer fill. You are the Mackay, the head of the +family. Remember that, and cease before your time to be a boy."</p> + +<p>"I will, father," the boy promised.</p> + +<p>"There is little or no money, worse luck," the man went on. "All I have +had I have put into land and timber, and the fire burnt the timber: But +in time the land will make you rich, though not yet awhile, maybe. But +till it does, the ranch will give you a living. Sell nothing now—not an +acre. Promise me, boy!"</p> + +<p>"I promise, father," the boy replied.</p> + +<p>"A promise to a dying father is an oath," the man went on. "But no +Mackay of our Mackays ever broke his word passed for good or ill. +Remember that, too. I have made a will, and all I have is left to you as +the eldest son. That has ever been our custom. When the time comes, and +they are older, deal generously with your sister and brother. That is +our custom, too. Of this will, the man Braden is named as executor. I +had intended—but it is too late now. He is a man of business and has +the name of an upright man. But if you need advice, son, go to Judge +Riley, drunkard and all as he is. But for that he should have been in +Braden's place. That is all, I think. I feel more content now." And he +closed his eyes with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"I will remember, father," the boy said. "But who did this? Who shot +you?"</p> + +<p>The eyes opened and searched his deeply for many seconds.</p> + +<p>"Why do you want to know?"</p> + +<p>"I ought to know," the boy replied.</p> + +<p>"You want to know," his father said, "so that if the law should fail, +you would take the old law of the old days into your young hands. Is +that it, my son?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the boy admitted, "that is it. And why for no, father?"</p> + +<p>For a moment the graying face of the dying man lighted with a swift +gleam of pride and satisfaction. Then he lifted his great hand feebly.</p> + +<p>"You have bred true, lad. Ever were the Mackays good haters, bitter of +heart and heavy of hand. So I have been all my days, and no man did me +wrong that I did not repay it. But listen, son o' mine: Lying here with +my man's strength gone from me and the shadows on my soul I see more +clearly, as clearly as old Murdoch McGillivray, who is dead, and as you +know had the gift while he lived. And I tell you now that hate and +revenge are the things worth least in life; and, moreover, that the +things worth most in life and much more in death, are love, and work +well done, and a heart clean of bitterness. And so I will tell you +nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"Please, father!" the boy pleaded, for as his father had said he had +bred true.</p> + +<p>"No and no, I tell you, no!" Adam Mackay refused. "No killing will bring +me back. I will not lay a feud upon you. Blood and blood, and yet more +blood I have seen come of such things. I know you, Angus, bone o' my +bone and flesh o' my flesh as I know my own youth, and of the knowledge +in that one thing I will not trust you. I die, and that is the end of +it, for me and for all of me. Your duty is to the living. And now call +you Jean and Torquil, that I may bid them farewell. And take you my +blessing such as it is; for I feel the darkness closing upon me."</p> + +<p>An hour later Adam Mackay was dead. And that day was the last of Angus +Mackay's careless boyhood.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>ANGUS ASSERTS HIMSELF</h3> + + +<p>Though the death of Adam Mackay made a great local sensation, its cause +remained unexplained. Apparently he had been unarmed, and so it seemed +plain murder. But on the other hand his strange silence was puzzling. He +had been on good terms with most of his neighbors, or at least not on +very bad terms with anybody, save a couple of Indians whom he had caught +stealing and handled roughly. But these Indians had a perfectly good +alibi. There was no clew, no starting point. Nobody knew even which way +Mackay had ridden on the day of his death. And so after a while it was +classed with those mysteries which may be solved by time, but not +otherwise.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, young Angus took up the burden of his responsibilities. So +far as he knew he had no near relatives, and search of his father's +papers confirmed this. He was rather relieved than otherwise. He found +his father's will, and struggling with its verbiage, set it aside to +await the return of the executor Isaac J. Braden, who was absent on a +business trip.</p> + +<p>Braden was known to Angus by sight and by reputation. He lived in +Mowbray, the nearest town, which was some sixteen miles from the ranch, +where he was the big frog in its little puddle. He had a good many irons +in the fire. He ran a sort of private banking-loan-insurance business, +dealt in real estate, owned an interest in a store, dabbled in local +politics and was prominent in church matters. He was considered a very +able and trustworthy man. But young Angus, though he had very misty +notions of the functions of an executor, had a very clear and definite +conviction that it was up to him to run the ranch and look after his +sister and brother. That was his personal job. And so he took stock of +the situation.</p> + +<p>Adam Mackay had owned in all a block of nearly two thousand acres. Of +this about three hundred was cultivated or in pasture. The whole block +was good, very level, with ample water for irrigation. On the range was +nearly a hundred head of cattle. There were horses in plenty—a couple +of work team, a team of drivers, and each young Mackay had a saddle +pony. The buildings were good, and the wagons, sleighs, tools and +machinery in excellent condition. The ranch was a going concern, +apparently in good shape. None the less it was a hard proposition for a +youngster to handle. It was like putting a cabin boy on the bridge to +navigate the ship.</p> + +<p>Having been brought up on a ranch, he knew quite well how most work +should be done, and he had acquired by absorption rather than by +conscious thought a good deal of theory. But Adam Mackay had himself +done rather more than half the work. He had had but one steady hired +man, Gus Gustafson, a huge Scandinavian who was a splendid worker when +told what to do, but who had no head whatever. As Angus could not do the +work his father had done he had to obtain additional help, and so he +made a proposition to Dave Rennie.</p> + +<p>Rennie was not much of a farmer, but he came to the ranch temporarily at +first out of his friendship for Angus, and remained.</p> + +<p>On a certain Saturday afternoon Angus and Dave Rennie, engaged in +hanging a new gate, saw a two-seated rig with three men approaching. +Rennie peered at them.</p> + +<p>"There's Braden," he said. "I heard he'd got back."</p> + +<p>"And that's Nick Garland driving," Angus observed. "Who's the other +fellow?"</p> + +<p>"Stranger to me. Garland, huh! I never had much use for that sport."</p> + +<p>Garland was a young man whose business, so far as he had any, was +dealing in cattle. Uncharitable persons said that he dealt more poker. +He was a good-looking chap, after a fashion, who affected cowboy garb, +rode a good horse, was locally known and considered himself a devil +among the girls, and generally tried to live up to the reputation of a +dead-game sport.</p> + +<p>The third man, whom neither Angus nor Dave recognized, was a +nondescript, sandy individual with drooping shoulders, a drooping nose +above a drooping moustache which but partially concealed a drooping +mouth. On the whole, both Garland and this stranger seemed uncongenial +companions for Mr. Braden.</p> + +<p>That celebrity grunted as he climbed down. He was a fleshy man of middle +age, clean shaven, carefully dressed, with small, somewhat fishy eyes. +He took Angus' brown, hardened paw in a soft, moist palm, putting his +left hand on his shoulder in a manner which he intended to be +sympathetic and protecting; but at which Angus squirmed inwardly and +grew rigid outwardly, for in common with normal boys he hated the touch +of a stranger.</p> + +<p>"And so," said Mr. Braden in a short-winded, throaty voice which held +an occasional curious pant like an old-time camp meeting exhorter, "and +so this is Angus! It is a matter of great regret to me, my boy, that I +was absent at the time of your bereavement. You and your young sister +and your young brother have my heartfelt sympathy in this your time of +tribulation—huh. Your father was a very dear friend of mine, a man in a +thousand, one of nature's noblemen. 'We ne'er shall look upon his like +again,' as the poet truly remarks. However, there is no use crying +over—that is, the Lord giveth and taketh away—huh, as you have been +taught, no doubt. As executor of your father's will my dear boy, I +regard myself as in loco parentis, and I hope you will regard me in that +way, too."</p> + +<p>He beamed most benevolently, but Angus was unimpressed. Mr. Braden, if +he had only known it, could not have made a worse start. A quiet word of +sympathy or a firm grip of the hand without words would have gone far. +As it was, he quite failed to inspire liking or confidence.</p> + +<p>They went to the house together, where Mr. Braden said much the same +thing over again to Jean, and patted her head. And young Turkey, +unwarily peeping through the door, was called in and addressed as "my +little man" and patted also; which attentions he acknowledged with a +fierce scowl and a muttered word, which fortunately Mr. Braden did not +hear.</p> + +<p>But these preliminaries over, Mr. Braden got down to business at once. +In a few brief but pointed questions he found out all there was to know +about the ranch and the stock, and he skimmed through such papers as +Angus produced, with a practised eye.</p> + +<p>"H'm, yes, yes," he said. "Now I think I understand the situation. I +have given the future of you young people the most careful +consideration, because it is for the future that you must now prepare. +Youth is the time of preparation. It is the building time. As we sow in +youth, so we reap in age—huh. Then let us ask what to-day is the great +essential of success? There is but one answer—education. And so it +follows that you young people must receive the best education that your +father's estate can give you; and as Art is long and Time fleeting, as +the poet truly remarks, you young people must enter upon the path of +learning at once."</p> + +<p>The young people said nothing. The flow of words bewildered them. Mr. +Braden then got down to brass tacks:</p> + +<p>"I will make the necessary arrangements right away," he said. "We will +rent the ranch and sell off some of the stock, and the money will be +used in sending you all to some good school which will fit you for +success in life."</p> + +<p>This was definite, concrete, different from generalities. Angus stared +at the executor.</p> + +<p>"Rent the ranch!" he exclaimed. "I guess not. I'm going to run it +myself."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden smiled tolerantly. "Your spirit is very creditable, my boy, +but you are too young and inexperienced."</p> + +<p>"I'm running it now," Angus told him, "and I'm going to keep on. I won't +stand for having it rented."</p> + +<p>"At your age, my boy, you don't know what is best for you. You must +allow me to be the judge."</p> + +<p>Youth is hot-headed, and the tongue of youth unruly.</p> + +<p>"I will not stand for having the ranch rented," Angus repeated. "I am +going to stay here and work it, and that's all there is to it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden frowned at this brusque ultimatum. "I have already made +arrangements with Mr. Poole, here, to take it over."</p> + +<p>Angus looked at the drooping Mr. Poole and decided that he did not like +him.</p> + +<p>"I don't care what you have made," he said bluntly. "Renters rip the +heart out of a ranch. They take everything from the land and put nothing +back; and when they have worked it out they quit. That's not going to +happen here, if I know it."</p> + +<p>"You don't know what you're talking about," Mr. Poole observed.</p> + +<p>"I think I know more about ranching than you do," Angus retorted.</p> + +<p>"I was ranching before you was born," Mr. Poole told him loftily.</p> + +<p>"Then why haven't you got a ranch of your own, instead of hoboing it +around, renting places?" Angus demanded.</p> + +<p>Mr. Poole reddened and scowled. "I had a blame sight better ranch than +this, but I sold it," he said.</p> + +<p>"By your looks I think the sheriff helped you," Angus said. "You look to +me like a man that is too lazy to turn over in bed, like a man that +would sleep in winter and never hear his stock bawling for feed. You +will never have this ranch. If you try to come on it—"</p> + +<p>"Angus," Mr. Braden broke in with dignified severity, "you are +forgetting yourself. You must not talk in that way to your elders."</p> + +<p>But by this time young Mackay's temper, which had been gradually +rising, was beyond being damped off by a stern voice and dignified +manner.</p> + +<p>"I will say what I think," he declared, "to this man Poole, or to you, +or to anybody else, and I will back up what I say the best way I can. +You come here and talk about renting the ranch and selling stock as if I +had nothing to say about it. I tell you, now, it doesn't go. I am +staying here, and so are Jean and Turkey. If you try to put us off, or +put this Poole or anybody else on, there will be trouble you can scoop +up in a bucket."</p> + +<p>Garland chose that moment to laugh. Angus turned on him with a scowl. He +was like a young dog cornered by older ones, nervous, snarling, but +quite ready to fight for his bone. He looked Garland in the eye.</p> + +<p>"And that goes for you too," he said. "You will buy nothing with the MK +brand from anybody but me. You try to take a single head of my stock off +the range, and you'll do it in the smoke, do you savvy that?"</p> + +<p>Garland laughed again, but there was a note of uneasiness in it, for +next to the real "bad man," cold, experienced and deadly, comes the boy, +who, bred in the traditions of the old West, has the recklessness and +hot passions of extreme youth. The history of the West teems with +examples.</p> + +<p>"You're making a fool of yourself, kid," he said.</p> + +<p>Here Dave Rennie broke the silence which had enwrapped him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I dunno," he observed.</p> + +<p>"What have you got to say about it?" Garland demanded.</p> + +<p>"I ain't said much so far," Rennie pointed out, "and I ain't goin' to. +Only this: Don't nobody overplay his hand in this game—nobody at all."</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" asked Mr. Braden.</p> + +<p>"Me? Dave Rennie. I'm workin' for the kid."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Mr. Braden, "I fail to see what interest you have in the +matter, my friend."</p> + +<p>"I get in this way," said Dave. "I'm a friend of the kid's, as well as a +hired man. You can take what you like out of that."</p> + +<p>Whatever Mr. Braden took out of it he did not immediately speak, but +drummed with his fingers on the table.</p> + +<p>"One of my rules of life," he said, "is to get along without friction; I +trust I am a reasonable man. When I find that my views conflict with +those of others, I weigh both carefully. They may be right and I may be +wrong. We must have no friction at the outset, Angus, and I think that +you have misunderstood me. As you object to renting the ranch I am going +to give you an opportunity to think it over, and I am going to think it +over myself. Then we will have another talk. Naturally, I must do what +is best for the estate, but I wish to meet your wishes as far as +possible. My sole desire is to do my best for all of you. No +friction—no, no. We do not want friction, do we, my boy?"</p> + +<p>"I do not want trouble at all," Angus said. "All I want is to run the +ranch, and that is what I am going to do."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I understand," Mr. Braden returned. "Well, do so for the +present, my boy. Then we will talk it over again."</p> + +<p>"There is no use talking it over," Angus maintained. "I have made up my +mind."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden looked as though he desired to express his opinion of this +boyish obstinacy, but changing his mind he smiled benevolently and +suggested a look around the ranch. Angus accompanied him, pointing out +what was needed and what he intended to do. The executor listened, +asking an occasional question, giving now and then a bit of advice. But +when he had driven away Angus was thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"You and him was gettin' to be some tillikums," Rennie observed.</p> + +<p>"He seemed all right while I was going around with him," Angus admitted. +"He wants to get that notion of renting out his head, though. I wonder +how it would be on a show-down, Dave? Do you suppose he could rent the +place, no matter whether I wanted to or not, or was he only running a +sandy?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno," Rennie admitted. "If I was you I'd go and have a talk with +old Judge Riley, like your daddy told you to do if anything come up. You +may catch him sober. Not," he added, "that the old boy ain't pretty wise +when he's drunk."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>JUDGE RILEY—DRUNK AND SOBER</h3> + + +<p>"Judge" Riley had once been on the bench, but for some reason had +resigned and gone back to his profession, hanging out his shingle in +Mowbray. There was no doubt of his natural and professional ability, but +it was the inability to let liquor alone, even when business demanded +attention. Hence he had little of the latter.</p> + +<p>He was not sober when Angus entered his untidy little office. At Angus' +entrance he stared up with dull eyes from beneath a thick thatch of gray +hair which had fallen across his forehead like a horse's forelock. For a +moment he had difficulty in identifying his visitor, but succeeded.</p> + +<p>"Angus," he muttered, "sure, yes, Angus Mackay. Sit down, Angus. And how +is your father?"</p> + +<p>"My father is dead, Judge Riley," Angus reminded him.</p> + +<p>"Dead!" said the judge, "dead!" His voice altered at the repetition of +the word, and his eyes lost a little of their dullness. "Why, I knew +that," he muttered to himself, "I knew Mackay was dead. I—I beg your +pardon, Angus. Not—not exactly right just now. A little—a little touch +of something. All right, presently."</p> + +<p>"I'll come in again," Angus said. "I wanted to see you on business."</p> + +<p>"Bus'ness?" the judge queried. "Always 'tend to bus'ness. Not so much of +it now. State your bus'ness."</p> + +<p>Though he did not see much use in doing so in the judge's condition, +Angus told him what had happened and asked what powers the executor +possessed.</p> + +<p>"Exec'tor governed by will," the judge told him. "Never give 'pinion on +written instrument without seeing instrument."</p> + +<p>"You drew the will yourself, judge—at least it has your name on it."</p> + +<p>"Good will, then," said the judge, "perfec'ly good will."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing in it about renting the place."</p> + +<p>"Exec'tor's powers broad," said the judge. "Gen'ral law of trustees. +Governed by will, though. Princ'ples governing construction of will—"</p> + +<p>But just then the judge was in no condition to enunciate them. His voice +trailed off into a murmur and his head dropped.</p> + +<p>"I'll come in again," said Angus, "and pay for your advice. What do you +charge, judge?"</p> + +<p>"Charge!" muttered the judge lifting his head. "Charge, Chester, charge! +On, Stan—"</p> + +<p>"Your fee," Angus interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Oh, fee!" said the judge. "Yes, fee. Very proper. Fund'mental princ'ple +of law, never neglect fee. Fifty dollars!"</p> + +<p>"Fifty dollars!" Angus gasped.</p> + +<p>"Merely nom'nal fee," the judge murmured. "Avoid lit'gation, young man, +'void lit'gation!" And his head fell forward and he slept.</p> + +<p>Disappointed in obtaining legal advice from the judge, Angus left his +office. He was determined, however, to know where he stood, and two days +afterward he entered the judge's office again. This time the judge was +sober and busy.</p> + +<p>"Glad to see you, Angus," he greeted cheerfully, "sit down and have a +chat."</p> + +<p>Angus sat down and, taking fifty dollars in bills from his pocket, +handed the money across the desk. The judge did not take it. He frowned +at the tenderer.</p> + +<p>"What is this?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Your fee," Angus explained.</p> + +<p>"For what?"</p> + +<p>"For telling me what I want to know."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" rasped the judge. "And how the devil do you know that I can or +will tell you what you want to know? And who gave you the authority to +fix my fee?"</p> + +<p>"You fixed it yourself," Angus reminded him. "When I was here two days +ago you told me your fee for advice was fifty dollars; and now I have +brought the money for the advice."</p> + +<p>A dull color rose in the old lawyer's cheeks.</p> + +<p>"You mean I was too drunk to give it," he said. "I remember that you +were here, but nothing about fifty dollars. Put it back in your pocket, +and tell me what you want to know."</p> + +<p>"But I want to pay for what I get."</p> + +<p>"Well, you won't," the judge snapped.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I regulate my own charges," the judge told him. "I've enjoyed +your father's hospitality and yours, and not a cent would you Mackays +ever accept for the time you lost, or for the hire of horses or their +feed, or mine. Damned proud Highland Scotch, that must always give and +never take! Put your money in your pocket, I tell you, and let me know +what's worrying you."</p> + +<p>So, seeing that he meant it, Angus put his money back and stated his +case.</p> + +<p>"H'm," said the judge. "So Braden wants to rent the ranch, does he, and +sell some stock. Under certain circumstances that might be expedient. An +executor's powers are broad enough, within certain limits, which you +probably wouldn't understand. But what do you want to do yourself? What +do you think is the best thing for you and your sister and brother?"</p> + +<p>"I want to stay on the ranch. I can make a living there. Jean and Turkey +are going to school now, and it will be some years before they are +through with it. Then it will be time enough to think of another +school."</p> + +<p>"How about yourself?" the judge queried. "You are at the age when you +should be laying the foundations of more education if you are to get it +at all."</p> + +<p>"I have thought of that," Angus replied, "and I do not think I have the +head for books, like Jean. I might spend years learning things that +might be well enough to know, perhaps, but of no real use to make a +living, which is what I have to do. And meanwhile the ranch would be run +down and the ground be worked out and dirty with weeds. And then there +is my promise to my father. I am taking his place as well as I can; and +that place is on the ranch."</p> + +<p>"I see," said the judge thoughtfully. "You may be right, my boy. Many a +good rancher has been spoilt to make a poor something else. The +professions are crowded with failures. But let's go back to the point: +Whether Braden has or has not the power to rent the ranch and sell +stock, is immaterial so long as it is not done. I will see him, and I +think I can explain the situation to him perhaps more clearly than you +can. How old are you?"</p> + +<p>"Eighteen," Angus replied. "I wish I was older."</p> + +<p>The judge looked at him and sighed. "Believe this," he said; "that when +you are older—much older—you will wish much more and just as vainly to +be eighteen. It's three years before you come of age. Even then—" He +broke off and for a moment was silent. "Angus, you are a close-mouthed +boy. If in the future you have any trouble with Braden, or if he or +anybody else makes you any proposition involving the ranch, will you +come to me with it?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be very glad to," Angus told him gratefully.</p> + +<p>"All right. And, Angus, I'm going to give you a word of advice, which +may sound strange from me. Never drink. Never start. Not only not now, +but five years hence, nor ten, nor thirty, nor forty."</p> + +<p>"I don't intend to," Angus said, in surprise. "I don't think I'd ever +drink much. There isn't anything in it, it seems to me."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong," the judge told him gravely. "You know nothing about it. +In youth there is pleasure in it, and good fellowship that warms the +heart, and bright eyes and soft lips—which you know nothing about +yet—and dreams of ambition and temporary equality with the gods; and +later in life there are the faces and voices of old friends, of men and +women dead before their time, and the golden past and golden youth leaps +and lives again, and the present is forgotten. And at last—Do you know +what there is at last, Angus?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said the boy with equal gravity. "What is there?"</p> + +<p>"Damnation!" the judge replied slowly. "Damnation, deep and living. The +damnation of those who knowing the better have chosen the worse; who +living the worse can yet see the better and the great gulf fixed +between. The hell of the hereafter—phutt!" And the judge snapped his +fingers.</p> + +<p>The boy stared at him wonderingly. The judge interpreted his thought.</p> + +<p>"The gulf is fixed, because the will, which is the only thing that can +bridge it, is the first thing to be destroyed. Where there is no will to +fight there is no fight. And you think, too, that this advice comes +strangely from me. But who can speak with greater authority—I, or the +man who never took a drink in his life?"</p> + +<p>"You, of course," Angus admitted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I," said the judge. "And I tell you who are on the threshold of +manhood to let liquor alone; not because there is nothing in it, as you +say in your ignorance, but because there are most things—or the +semblance of most things—in it that the heart of man desires. Remember +not to prove these things. That's all I have to say on the subject. And +now clear out, for I am busy."</p> + +<p>But when Angus had gone the judge did not appear to be very busy. He +filled a disreputable old pipe with a somewhat shaky hand, and lighting +it passed into a period of reflection. At the end of it he put on his +hat and proceeded up the street to Mr. Braden's office.</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden, spick and span and freshly shaven, enjoying a very good +cigar, looked with surprise and some distaste at the rumpled, unpressed +clothes, unshaven cheeks and untidy hair of the old lawyer. He had +little or no use for him.</p> + +<p>"And what is it this morning, judge?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Mackay estate," said the judge.</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden's eyes closed a little.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know you drew Mackay's will," he admitted, "but Crosby and Parks +do all my business, and of course—"</p> + +<p>"Wrong foot," said the judge, "I'm not asking for any of your business, +Braden. Angus Mackay tells me you were speaking of renting the ranch, +and he wanted to know if you had the power to do it."</p> + +<p>"Of course I have," Mr. Braden asserted. "The boy—"</p> + +<p>"I told him," the judge went on, "that whether you had the power or not, +it was most unlikely that you would exercise it."</p> + +<p>"What do you know about it?" Mr. Braden demanded brusquely.</p> + +<p>"Not a great deal just yet; but enough to tell him that."</p> + +<p>"Well, that may be your personal opinion. I haven't made up my mind yet. +But if I consider it in the interests of the estate to rent the ranch to +a competent man I shall most certainly do so."</p> + +<p>"Poole a competent man?" the judge queried.</p> + +<p>"I believe so. What do you know about him?"</p> + +<p>"Not a great deal—yet," the judge returned again. "What makes you think +it would be best to rent the place—to a competent man?"</p> + +<p>"Under the circumstances I should think it would be obvious."</p> + +<p>"If it is obvious why isn't your mind made up?"</p> + +<p>"Look here," Mr. Braden snapped, "you aren't cross-examining me, Riley!"</p> + +<p>The judge smiled blandly, but somehow the smile reminded Mr. Braden of +the engaging facial expression of a scarred old Airedale.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'll explain the obvious, Braden."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why I should explain anything to you. I don't recognize +your right to ask me any questions whatever."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" said the judge. "Think a little, Braden."</p> + +<p>Whatever Mr. Braden thought he saw fit to adopt a different tone.</p> + +<p>"Just look at the situation from my standpoint," he said. "By their +father's untimely death these children are thrown on the world with no +ready money whatever. Their only source of income is the ranch, which +they are too young and inexperienced to make pay. The only sensible +thing to do is to put it into the hands of some competent man, so that +it will yield a steady income. Isn't that common sense?"</p> + +<p>"As you state it—yes," the judge admitted.</p> + +<p>"Ha, of course it is," said Mr. Braden triumphantly. "Then as to the +children themselves, I feel my responsibility. They must not be allowed +to grow up wild like—er—cayuses, as it were. They must have an +education to fit them for the Battle of Life, and as you know they can't +get that at a country school. The rental of the ranch, plus the proceeds +of a sale of some of the stock could not be better employed than in +sending them to some first-class institution. In these days education is +the right of every child. It is the key to Success, which, when +Opportunity knocks at the door—What the devil are you grinning at?"</p> + +<p>"Go on."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's all I was going to say," said Mr. Braden whose wings of +fancy had suddenly dragged before the old lawyer's cynical smile. "Rent +the place; get money; apply the money to educate the children. That's it +in a nutshell. Any court would approve such action of an executor."</p> + +<p>"Possibly—on an <i>ex parte</i> application. But meantime who pays the +mortgage?"</p> + +<p>"Mortgage?" said Mr. Braden.</p> + +<p>"The mortgage Adam Mackay made to you on the ranch to obtain money to +enable him to buy timber limits which were subsequently fire-swept. +That's subsisting, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly it is." There was a shade of defiance in Mr. Braden's tone. +"I hope I am not a harsh creditor. The interest might run along and all +the rental go toward educating the children."</p> + +<p>"Very creditable to your heart," said the judge. "But practically the +result would be that the interest would accumulate and compound, and +that when these young people had received the education which is the key +to Success the property would be saddled with a very heavy encumbrance, +more, in fact, than they might care to assume."</p> + +<p>"Well," snapped Mr. Braden, "what would you have me do? Insist on my +interest and rob these poor children of their chance of life?"</p> + +<p>"Very hard situation, isn't it?" said the judge blandly. "It is just as +well to look it in the face, though. If, some years hence, the children +couldn't pay off these mortgage arrears the property would have to be +sold. In fact you might be forced to buy it in to protect yourself."</p> + +<p>"Do you suggest—"</p> + +<p>"I don't suggest anything. Let us look at another angle of it. Suppose +the place is rented and a crop or two fails and the lessee proves +incompetent. Then the time comes when, to educate the children, the +property, or some of it, must be sold. Again you might be forced to buy +it in to protect yourself."</p> + +<p>"I don't want the ranch," Mr. Braden said.</p> + +<p>"No, of course not. But that is the situation. Now young Angus is a +well-grown boy. I think he can run the ranch fairly well. The other +children are going to a school which is good enough for their present +needs. Angus feels very strongly about the matter. In fact I think he +would ask me to oppose any endeavor to rent the place."</p> + +<p>"Are you threatening me with a lawsuit?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. There can be no action unless there are grounds for one, +and of course a wise trustee walks very carefully. That's all I have to +say. Good morning, Braden."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden from his window looked after the bulky, square-set figure of +the old lawyer as he made his way down the street.</p> + +<p>"You will, will you, you old bum!" he muttered. Then his gaze shifted to +a large map of the district which hung on the wall. For some minutes he +contemplated it, and then his pudgy finger tapped the exact spot which +represented the Mackay ranch. Then half aloud he uttered an eternal +truth. "There's sev'ral ways," said Mr. Braden, "of skinning a cat."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>ANGUS IN LOVE AND WAR</h3> + + +<p>The judge merely told Angus that if he could work the ranch properly it +would not be rented; and thus encouraged he buckled into the work. The +responsibility thrust on him changed his outlook even more than he +himself realized.</p> + +<p>Jean felt her responsibilities as much as he. She was fond of books, but +she grudged the time spent at school, and from before daylight till long +after dark she was as busy as a young hen with a brood of chicks. The +boys helped her with the hard tasks, and on the whole she got along very +well.</p> + +<p>But though Angus and Jean felt their responsibilities and endeavored to +live up to them, young Turkey did not. He was a curious combination, +with as many moods and shifts as an April day. By turns he was +headstrong and impulsive, and then coldly calculating. If he felt like +it, he would be industrious; but if not, he would be deliberately and +provokingly idle. In the days of Adam Mackay these qualities had been +not so apparent; but with the passing of his father he recognized no +authority and he resented bitterly the least suggestion of control.</p> + +<p>He would soon have gotten completely out of hand had Angus permitted it. +Matters came to a show-down one morning when Turkey, snug between his +blankets, delivered a flat ultimatum to his brother's command that he +get up and help pick potatoes.</p> + +<p>"You go plum!" said Turkey. "Saturday's a holiday, and I'm goin' +fishin'. Pick spuds yourself!"</p> + +<p>The next moment he was yanked out of his nest by the ankle and, fighting +like a young wildcat, was thrown on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Will you pick those spuds?" Angus demanded.</p> + +<p>"No!" Turkey shouted, and Angus whirled him over on his face and +reaching out acquired a leather slipper.</p> + +<p>"Get this straight," he said. "You'll pick spuds, or I'll lick you till +you do."</p> + +<p>"You lick me, and I'll kill you," roared Turkey, emphasizing the threat +with language gleaned from certain teamsters of his acquaintance, but +which was cut short by the slipper.</p> + +<p>"Will you come to work now?" Angus asked after a heated interval.</p> + +<p>"No!" yelled Turkey, sobbing more with rage than with pain, "no, I +won't, you big—"</p> + +<p>But again the slipper cut him short, and this time his brother put his +full strength into it. Finally, Turkey recognized the old-time doctrine +of force, and gave up. That day he picked potatoes with fair diligence, +and though he would not speak to Angus for a week, he did as he was +told.</p> + +<p>And so that Fall the young Mackays were very busy, and the threshing was +done, and the roots dug and got in, and some fall plowing, before the +frosts hardened the earth and the snow came to overlie it.</p> + +<p>With winter the work of the ranch lightened—or at least its hours +shortened. But still there was plenty to do.</p> + +<p>But there were the long evenings, when all the work was done, and supper +over and the lamps lit, and they sat by the big, airtight heater, and +Angus at least enjoyed the warmth the more because, well-fed and +comfortable himself, he knew that every head of his stock was also +full-bellied and contented in pen and stable and stall and shed, and the +wind might blow and the snow drift and not matter at all.</p> + +<p>A year passed uneventfully. The ranch paid its way, though Angus could +not meet the mortgage interest. In that year Angus had grown physically. +Adam Mackay had been a strong man, and his son was beginning to show his +breed, and the results of the good plain food and open air and hard +exercise which had been his all his life.</p> + +<p>He was yet lanky and apparently awkward, being big of bone, but long +ropes of muscle were beginning to come on his arms and thighs, and bands +and plasters of it lay on his shoulders and along his back and armored +ribs. He took pride in the strength that was coming upon him, rejoicing +in his ability to shoulder a sack of grain without effort, to lift and +set around the end of a wagon, to handle the big breaking plow at the +end of a furrow, and he was forever trying new things which called for +strength and activity. At nineteen he could, though he did not know it, +have taken the measure of any ordinary man. And about this time an +incident occurred which nearly turned out disastrously.</p> + +<p>Angus had delivered a load of potatoes at a hotel much frequented by +lumberjacks, and, seeking its proprietor, he entered the bar. A logging +camp had broken up, and its members, paid off, were celebrating in the +good old way. As Angus approached the bar he passed between two young +men. These, with one telepathic glance, suddenly administered to the +unsuspecting youth the rite known as the "Dutch flip." Although the +humor of the "flip" is usually more apparent to perpetrators and +onlookers than to the victim, Angus merely grinned as he found himself +on his feet again, and all would have been well if, in his involuntary +parabola, his feet aforesaid had not brushed a huge tie-maker. This +tie-maker was a Swede, "bad," with a reputation as a fighter and the +genial disposition of a bear infested with porcupine quills. Also he was +partly drunk. In this condition he chose to regard the involuntary +contact of Angus' heels as a personal affront. With a ripping blasphemy +he slapped the boy in the face, and as instantly as a reflex action +Angus lashed back with a blow clean and swift as the kick of a colt, and +nearly as powerful.</p> + +<p>The logger recovered from his surprise, and with a roar sprang and +caught him. Strong for a boy, Angus was as yet no match for such an +adversary. The weight of the man, apart from fighting experience, made +the issue undoubted. But suddenly the Swede was twisted, wrenched loose, +and sent staggering ten feet. Straight down the length of the room the +big tie-maker shot, landing with a terrific crash, and lay groaning.</p> + +<p>"Let the kid alone!" a deep voice commanded.</p> + +<p>Angus' rescuer was Gavin French, the eldest of the brothers. The largest +of a family of big men, Gavin stood three inches over six feet in his +stockings, and tapered from shoulders to heels. He was long of limb, +long of sinew, and so beautifully built that at first sight his real +bulk and weight were not apparent. His hair, reddish gold, was so wavy +that it almost curled, his eye a clear blue, but as hard as newly-cut +ice. He nodded to Angus.</p> + +<p>"All right, Mackay; I won't let him hurt you."</p> + +<p>Gavin French surveyed his handiwork with cold satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Give the boys a drink," he said. And when the drink had been disposed +of he walked out without a second glance at his late adversary who was +sitting up. Angus followed him.</p> + +<p>"Thanks for handling him," he said. "He was too strong for me."</p> + +<p>The cold blue eyes rested on him appraisingly.</p> + +<p>"You'll be all right when you're older. Better keep out of trouble till +then."</p> + +<p>"He struck me," Angus said, "and no man will ever do that without +getting back the best I have, no matter how big he is. That was my +father's way."</p> + +<p>Gavin French made no reply. He nodded, and turning abruptly left Angus +alone.</p> + +<p>This episode, trivial in itself, gave Angus food for thought. For long +months the sight of the big Swede hurtling through the air was before +his eyes, and he admired and envied the mighty strength of Gavin French. +By contrast his own seemed puny, insignificant. He set himself +deliberately to increase it.</p> + +<p>The second fall after Adam Mackay's death the school which Jean and +Turkey attended had a new teacher. Jean fell in love with her from the +start, and even Turkey, who had regarded teachers as his natural +enemies, was inclined to make an exception. Jean brought this paragon to +the ranch over Sunday. Alice Page was a clear-eyed young woman of +twenty-four, brown of hair and eye as Jean herself, full of quiet fun, +but with a dignity which forbade familiarity. She was the first person +who had ever given Angus a handle to his name. This was at dinner, and +Turkey yelped joyously:</p> + +<p>"Ah, there, 'Mister' Mackay!" he cried. "A little more meat, 'Mister' +Mackay, and a dose of spuds and gravy, 'Mister' Mackay. I see you missed +some of the feathers by your left ear when you was shavin', 'Mister' +Mackay!"</p> + +<p>Having just begun the use of the razor, Angus reddened to the ear +aforesaid. Like most taciturn, reserved people he was keenly sensitive +to ridicule.</p> + +<p>"'Meester' Mackay! Haw-haw!" rumbled big Gus through a mouthful of food. +"He's shave hees viskers! Das ban purty good von. Ho-ho!"</p> + +<p>Dave Rennie grinned. Angus' black brows drew down, but just then he +choked on a crumb of bread which went the wrong way.</p> + +<p>"Pat 'Mister' Mackay on the back!" shrieked Turkey.</p> + +<p>"I'll pat you, young fellow!" Angus wheezed.</p> + +<p>But Alice Page saw how the land lay; saw also that the black-browed, +awkward boy was in danger of losing his temper.</p> + +<p>"Shall I call you 'Angus'?" she asked, and there was something in her +tone and friendly smile which calmed him.</p> + +<p>"That would be fine," he said. "And if you would lick Turkey Monday +morning it would be a great favor."</p> + +<p>A month afterward Alice Page came to live at the ranch. Her +companionship meant much to Jean. It meant more to Angus, who presently +suffered a severe attack of calf-love.</p> + +<p>Being in love, Angus began to suffer the pangs of jealousy, for there +were others who found Alice Page attractive. Chief among these was Nick +Garland, the young man who had accompanied Mr. Braden on his first +visit to the ranch. His visits became frequent, and he made himself very +much at home at the ranch, treating Angus with a careless superiority +and seniority which the latter found intensely irritating.</p> + +<p>Now Garland, who esteemed himself a devil of a fellow, was merely +attempting a flirtation with the pretty school teacher. He could not but +notice Angus' attitude toward himself, and in a flash of perception +divined the cause. He found it humorous, as no doubt it was. He did not +like Angus, which made it the more amusing. He intended to tell Alice +Page the joke, but in the meantime kept it to himself.</p> + +<p>He rode up one moonlight night while Angus was in the stable dressing by +the light of a lantern the leg of a horse which had calked himself, put +his mare in a stall and forked down hay as a matter of course. Angus, +after a short greeting, maintained silence. Then picking up his lantern, +he left the stable. Garland thought his chance had come.</p> + +<p>"They tell me you're going to school this winter," he observed.</p> + +<p>"No," Angus replied.</p> + +<p>"Mighty pretty teacher," Garland insinuated. "If I had the chance, I'd +sure go. I think I could learn a lot from her."</p> + +<p>"There would be lots of room," Angus retorted.</p> + +<p>"What!" Garland demanded, stopping short.</p> + +<p>"Ay," Angus said grimly, setting his lantern on the ground and facing +him. "You might learn to mind your own business."</p> + +<p>Garland peered at him in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>"I'm not used to talk like that, young fellow."</p> + +<p>"You need not take it unless you like," Angus said.</p> + +<p>Garland laughed contemptuously. "Sore, are you? This is the funniest +thing I ever came across. I'm on to you, kid. It's too good to keep. +I'll have to tell her."</p> + +<p>Angus scowled at him in silence for a moment. Then, deliberately, +bitterly, he gave him what is usually regarded as a perfectly good +<i>casus belli</i>.</p> + +<p>Garland began to realize that he had made a mistake. He had anticipated +fun, but found this serious. If he thrashed Angus he could not very well +continue to call at the ranch. Also, looking at the tall, raw-boned +youth confronting him, he had an uneasy feeling that he might have his +hands full if he tried. He had not realized till then how much the boy +had grown. At bottom Garland was slightly deficient in sand. And so he +tried to avert the break he had brought about.</p> + +<p>"That's no way to talk," he said. "You'll have to learn to take a joke, +some day."</p> + +<p>"Maybe," Angus retorted. "But I will never learn to take what you are +taking."</p> + +<p>Garland flushed angrily. The element of truth in the words stung.</p> + +<p>"I'd look well, beating up a boy," he said loftily. "I'm not going to +quarrel with you. When you're older maybe you'll have more sense."</p> + +<p>He left Angus, and marched away to the house. Angus looked after him +till the door closed, and then struck straight away across the bare +fields for the timber.</p> + +<p>These night rambles by moonlight were a habit which fitted well with his +nature. He was taciturn, reserved, with an infinite capacity, developed +by circumstance for solitude. But that night, as he covered mile after +mile with a swift, springy stride, his mood was as sinister as the black +shadows the great firs threw across his path. His naturally hard, bitter +temper, usually controlled, was in the ascendant. His long dislike of +Garland had come to a head. And yet there was Garland seated in his +house with Alice Page, while he was forced to walk in the night. It +amounted to that in his estimation.</p> + +<p>At last he turned back, in no better temper. It was late, and he was +sure that Garland had gone. But as he came to the road leading to the +house he saw figures black in the moonlight approaching. Just then he +was in no mood to meet any one. An irrigation ditch bordered by willows +paralleled the road. He jumped the ditch and, concealed by the willows, +waited till whoever it was should go by.</p> + +<p>It was Alice Page, and Garland, leading his horse. Opposite him they +halted. Snatches of conversation blurred by the gurgle of running water +came to his ears. Garland moved closer to her. Suddenly he caught her in +his arms. She strained back, pushing him away, but he kissed her, and at +that moment Angus leaped the ditch, landing beside them. The suddenness +of his appearance startled them. The horse snorted and pulled back. +Garland released Alice with an oath and turned to face the intruder.</p> + +<p>"It's you, is it?" he said angrily.</p> + +<p>"You had better get out of here," Angus told him, "and be quick about +it."</p> + +<p>But Garland, being angry, forgot his prudence. He was not going to be +ordered off by a boy, especially before Alice Page.</p> + +<p>"Be civil, you young fool!" he said. "I've taken enough from you +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Will you get on your horse and pull out?" Angus demanded between his +teeth.</p> + +<p>"When I get good and ready, and not before," Garland replied.</p> + +<p>Without another word Angus went for him. Garland was older, heavier and +presumably stronger, and furious as Angus was he felt that probably he +was in for a licking. But he went in hard, like a forlorn hope, and like +a forlorn hope he intended to do as much damage as he could.</p> + +<p>Garland tried to fend him off with a push, and failing, hit. But his +blow glanced from Angus' head and the latter slashed up under the ribs +with a vicious right hand, and was amazed at the depth his fist sank in +the body and the rasping gasp it brought forth. Angus' knowledge of +offensive and defensive was not great. But at school he had engaged in +various rough-and-tumble affairs and one winter a lithe young fellow +hired by the elder Mackay had shown him how to hold his hands. But these +things were quite forgotten for the moment. Like his claymore-wielding +ancestors, his one idea was to get to close quarters and settle the +matters there. He caught Garland around the middle and was gripped in +return.</p> + +<p>For a moment he thought Garland was not trying, was not doing his best; +and then, suddenly and joyfully, he realized that he <i>was</i> doing it, and +that it was not good enough. He was stronger than Garland. He had the +back, and the legs, and the arms and the lungs of him, man though he +was. With the knowledge he snarled like a young wolf, and suddenly +strength swelled in him like the bore of a tide. He ran Garland back +half a dozen paces, and wrenched and twisted him. Getting his right +hand free he smashed him again under the ribs, and as Garland, gasping, +clinched, he locked his long arms around him, and with his shoulder +against the stomach, his legs propped and braced, and every muscle from +jaw to heel tautening, he squeezed him like a young python.</p> + +<p>Garland tried to hold the walls of his body against the grip, and +failed. Angus heard him pant, and felt the tremors of the man's frame as +the strength oozed out of him. Garland's grip weakened and loosened, and +he tried for Angus' throat and failed, for the boy's chin was tucked +home on his breast-bone, and he beat him over the back and head wildly +with his fists and caught at his arms; and then his head and body began +to go backward.</p> + +<p>Angus heard Alice Page's voice as from a great distance, for that locked +grip of his was like the blind one of a bulldog.</p> + +<p>"Angus! Angus! let him go!"</p> + +<p>And he plucked Garland from his footing easily, for the latter was now +little more than dead weight, and threw him on his back into the running +ditch. He stood above him, his chest heaving, like a young wolf above +his first kill.</p> + +<p>Garland splashed into the chilly water, and drew himself out of it +gasping and cursing with returning breath. Angus tapped him on the mouth +with the toe of his moccasin.</p> + +<p>"That is no talk for a woman to hear," he said. "Get out, or I'll throw +you back in the ditch."</p> + +<p>Garland got to his feet unsteadily, and went to his horse.</p> + +<p>"I'll fix you for this," he said as he got into the saddle.</p> + +<p>"You are a bluff," Angus told him, "and you know it as well as I do. Get +out!"</p> + +<p>When horse and rider were indistinct, Angus turned to Alice Page.</p> + +<p>"You saw him—kiss me, Angus?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he admitted, "but I didn't mean to. I had words with him +to-night, and I was waiting till you would go past, but you stopped +right in front of me."</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad you were there. I don't want you to think I am the sort +of girl who is kissed by moonlight."</p> + +<p>"I'd never think that," Angus said. "I think you are the finest girl in +the world."</p> + +<p>She stared at him in amazement, as much at his tone as at the words.</p> + +<p>"Why, Angus!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I do," he asseverated, "the very finest! I've wanted to tell you so, +but I hadn't the nerve. I—I think an awful lot of you."</p> + +<p>So there it was at last, blurted out with boyish clumsiness.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" cried Alice Page. "I never—why, Angus, my dear boy—" +She laughed and checked herself, and the laugh turned into a little +hysterical sob, and without any further warning she began to cry.</p> + +<p>Utterly dismayed Angus stood helpless. And then, because it always +seemed to comfort Jean when in trouble, he put his arm around her. For a +moment Alice Page leaned against him, just as Jean did, but somehow the +sensation was quite different. Very hesitatingly and awkwardly, but +doing it as well and carefully as he knew how, he kissed her. Whereupon +Alice Page jumped as if he had bitten her.</p> + +<p>"You, too!" she cried. "O Angus! Oh, good heavens, what a night! Let me +go, Angus!"</p> + +<p>He let her go, feeling all palpitant and vibrant, for he had never +kissed any girl, save Jean, who naturally did not count, but glad that +at any rate he had stopped her crying. And Alice Page, who had a large +store of common sense, did the very best thing possible. Sitting down on +the bank of the ditch she made him sit beside her, and talked to him so +gently and frankly that after a while, though he still considered +himself to be in love, he felt resigned to its hopelessness, and in fact +rather proud of his broken heart and blighted life, as boys are apt to +be. Indeed, with his knowledge that he had squared the account with +Garland, he was almost happy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>GAIN AND LOSS</h3> + + +<p>Alice Page was but an episode in the life of the Mackays, but her +influence was far-reaching, at least with Angus and Jean. She stimulated +in the former a taste for reading, dormant and unsuspected. She made him +see that he was wasting his evenings, and she got him books of history +and travel and voyages, with a sprinkling of the classics of English +fiction. Angus, who had been unaware that such books existed, took to +them like a young eagle to the air, for they opened the door to the +romances of the world.</p> + +<p>Though nobody save Alice Page suspected it, the grim-faced boy was full +of the romance of youth. At heart he was an adventurer, of the stuff of +which the old conquistadores were made.</p> + +<p>Jean needed no encouragement to study. Outwardly, Angus was hard and +practical. Outwardly, Jean was thoughtful and at times dreamy. Inwardly +the reverse was true. Jean was more practical than he, less inclined to +secret dreams. She intended to fit herself to teach, and her studies +were a means to that end. But most of Angus' reading, apart from +technical works, was the end itself. He was not conscious that it was +developing him, broadening his outlook, replacing to some extent more +intimate contact with the outer world of men and affairs.</p> + +<p>Thus time passed and another year slid around. Alice Page was gone, +teaching in a girls' residential small college on the coast. The ranch +was beginning to respond to the hard work. Stock on the range was +increasing in numbers and value. More settlers were coming in, and land +which had been a drug on the market was beginning to find purchasers.</p> + +<p>Angus had grown into a young man, tall and lean, quite unstiffened by +his hard work. Turkey was a youth, slimmer of build and smaller of bone +than his brother, but wiry and hard and catlike in quickness. Jean had +grown from a slip of a girl into a slender, brown-eyed maid. She was +through with the local school, and though she never hinted at it, Angus +knew quite well that she desired to attend the college where Alice Page +taught. It was characteristic of him that he said nothing until he could +speak definitely. But one night he told her she had better get ready to +go. Jean was startled.</p> + +<p>"How on earth did you know I was thinking of that?"</p> + +<p>"It didn't need the second sight of old Murdoch McGillivray," her +brother returned. "You had better get such things as you want."</p> + +<p>"But—can you afford it?" she asked doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You write to Alice to-night."</p> + +<p>So in the early fall Jean went away, and her brothers missed her very +much; Turkey, because he had now to mend his own clothes and take a turn +at the cooking, and Angus because he had confided in her more than in +anybody else.</p> + +<p>When the fall grew late and the snow near, Rennie rode the range for +stock, which was usually split up into small bands, scattered here and +there in valleys and pockets along the base of the hills. Each bunch had +its own territory, from which it seldom strayed unless feed got short. +Therefore any given lot could usually be found by combing a few square +miles. Before the heavy snows these bunches were rounded up and driven +to the ranch to winter there. But this time Rennie could find no trace +at all of one bunch.</p> + +<p>"It's them three-year-old steers," he said, "that used in between Cat +Creek and the mountain. They sure ain't on the range."</p> + +<p>"They must have drifted off. Maybe the feed got short."</p> + +<p>"The feed's good yet—never saw it better this time of the year."</p> + +<p>"Likely they've gone up one of the big draws off the pass," Angus +suggested.</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish you'd tell me which. I've rode every draw for ten miles +each way, and durn' if I can find a hoof."</p> + +<p>This was serious. It was up to them to find those steers before the snow +came. Angus had no mind to see them come staggering in in mid-winter, +mere racks of bones; and apart from that he had counted on the proceeds +of their sale to pay Jean's expenses and some of the interest on +Braden's mortgage. Accordingly, he turned himself loose on the range +with Dave and Turkey. They spent the better part of a week in the saddle +and rode half a dozen ponies to a show-down, but of the missing stock +they found never a trace.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet somebody's rustled them," Turkey decided.</p> + +<p>"Bosh!" said Angus.</p> + +<p>"If you're such a darn' wise gazabo, why don't you find 'em?" Turkey +retorted. "What do you think, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know," said Rennie. "Blamed if it don't look like it."</p> + +<p>"Rustled—nothing!" Angus exclaimed contemptuously. "There aren't any +rustlers here."</p> + +<p>"There never was no rustlers no place till folks began to miss stock," +Rennie pointed out mildly.</p> + +<p>"But who would rustle them?"</p> + +<p>"Well, of course that's the thing to find out."</p> + +<p>It was a puzzle. Every steer wore the MK, and mistakes of ownership were +out of the question. From calfhood they had summered on that range, +coming in fat and frisky to winter by the generous stacks. There was no +good reason why they should have left it. Not only had the entire range +been combed carefully, but none of the other cattle owners had seen +them.</p> + +<p>"If they been rustled," Rennie decided, "it's good bettin' it's Injuns. +Some of the young Siwashes is plenty cultus."</p> + +<p>"What could they do with them? They couldn't range them with their own +stock."</p> + +<p>"No, but they could drive them south if they was careful about it, and +mix 'em up with the stock of them St. Onge Injuns, and nobody'd be apt +to notice. I've sent word to a feller down there to ride through and +take a look."</p> + +<p>In due course Rennie heard from the "feller." The steers were not on the +St. Onge reserve. Thus Angus was up against a blank wall. Nobody would +deal openly in stock plainly branded. Garland knew as much as anybody of +transactions in stock, but he had heard nothing which might give a clew +to the missing steers.</p> + +<p>With the passage of time Garland and Angus were on terms again, though +naturally there was little cordiality. But apparently Garland retained +no active ill-feeling. The occurrences of that night were known to +nobody but the three participants. As for Garland himself having had +anything to do with the steers, it seemed out of the question. He had +never been mixed up in any shady transactions, and apart from that, +handling stolen stock would be too risky for him. There were only a few +white men who were not above all suspicion; and these there was no +reason at all to suspect. But for that matter there was no more reason +to suspect any Indian. Rennie, however, had a species of logic all his +own.</p> + +<p>"No reason!" he grunted. "Why, you say yourself there ain't no reason to +suspect a white man. Then it's got to be an Injun, ain't it? Sure! On +gen'ral principles it's a cinch."</p> + +<p>But Angus did not hold with this view. Though he had no special +affection for Indians—as few people who know them have—in his opinion +they were no worse than other people in the matter of honesty. The older +men he would trust with anything. Some of them, especially the chief, a +venerable and foxy old buck named Paul Sam, had been friends of his +father.</p> + +<p>"I'll have a talk with old Paul Sam the first time I see him," he told +Rennie. "He's as straight as they make them."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess he's the best of the bunch," Rennie admitted.</p> + +<p>A day or two afterward Angus met Paul Sam on the range, looking for +ponies. Though the Indian was old, he sat his paint pony as easily as a +young man. In his youth he must have been as straight and clean-cut as +a lance, and even the more than three score and ten snows which had +silvered his hair had bent his shoulders but little. He was accompanied +by his granddaughter, Mary, a girl of Jean's age, who, being his last +surviving relative, was as the apple of his eye. He had sent her to +mission school and denied her nothing. As he owned many horses and a +large band of cattle, Mary had luxuries unknown to most Indian girls. +She was unusually good-looking and a good deal spoiled, though Paul Sam, +being of the old school, cherished certain primitive ideas concerning +women.</p> + +<p>He listened in silence to Angus' statement regarding the missing stock, +surveying him with a shrewd old eye.</p> + +<p>"You think Injun kapswalla them moos-moos?" he asked with directness.</p> + +<p>"I didn't say anybody stole them. I'm just trying to find out what's +become of them."</p> + +<p>Paul Sam grunted. "All time white man lose moos-moos, lose kuitan, him +tumtum Injun steal um," he said. "All time blame Injun. Plenty cultus +Injun; plenty cultus white man, too."</p> + +<p>"That's true," Angus admitted.</p> + +<p>"You nanitch good for them moos-moos? Him all got brand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The old man reflected. "Spose man kapswalla um no sell um here," he +announced. "Drive um off—si-a-a-ah—then sell um."</p> + +<p>This was precisely Rennie's reasoning.</p> + +<p>"Where?" Angus queried. But on this point Paul Sam had no theory. Nobody +could tell, but some day it might be cleared up.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you hear anything of my steers, let me know," continued Angus.</p> + +<p>Paul Sam nodded. "Your father my tillikum," he said. "Him dam' good +skookum man. S'pose me hear, me tell you."</p> + +<p>But the young eyes of Mary had sighted ponies to the left. She announced +this to her grandfather in soft, clucking gutturals.</p> + +<p>"Goo'-by," said Paul Sam.</p> + +<p>"Good-by," said Angus. "Good-by, Mary."</p> + +<p>The girl nodded, with a flash of white teeth and a glance which dwelt +for an instant admiringly on Angus' long, lean body. Then she shook up +her fast pony and sailed away through the timber of the benchland to +round up the bunch of half-wild cayuses, while her grandfather followed +at a pace better suited to his years.</p> + +<p>But the fall went and the snow came, and Angus got no news. It was a +heavy loss just then, which he could not afford. Somehow it must be made +up, and the only way he saw to do it was to cut cordwood. The price was +low and the haul was long, but it was a case, for he had to have the +money.</p> + +<p>So all that winter he and Gus cut and split, while Rennie hauled and +Turkey looked after the house and the feeding. And so all through the +cold weather they made cordwood. It did not make up for the loss of the +steers, but it helped, and he was able to send money to Jean.</p> + +<p>The long winter passed. The days lengthened and the sun mounted higher, +so that it was warm on the south side of house and barn and stack. The +snow went in a glorious, booming Chinook wind that draped the ranges +with soft, scudding clouds, and set every gulch roaring with waters. +The ground thawed, and earth-smells struck the nostrils again. Up +against the washed blue of the sky flocks of geese bore their way +northward. One morning they heard the liquid notes of a meadow-lark. +Then came robins and bluebirds, and a new season opened with a rush.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE FRENCHES AGAIN</h3> + + +<p>That spring Angus kept three teams going steadily on plows and disks +while the high winds dried the soil to a powder, raising dust clouds +that choked and blinded, so that they came in black and gritty to a +shower bath of Angus' invention. He had accomplished this by a primitive +water wheel operated by the swift water of the irrigation ditch back of +the house. The water was always cold, and invigorated accordingly. But +it was icy in the morning. Rennie tried it once and gave it up, while +big Gus scornfully refused to experiment with a morning bath.</p> + +<p>"It'll brace you up," Turkey urged.</p> + +<p>"Vatter ent brace nobody," Gus replied with contempt. "Dees all-over +vash by mornin' ban no good. Ay ent need him. It ent make me dirty to +sleep."</p> + +<p>But the dust vanished with the spring rains, and the grain sprouted in +the drills. One day the fields lay bare and bald and blank; and the +next, as it seemed, they were covered with a film of tender green. Then +all hands began to clear and repair the irrigation ditches, so that when +dry weather came the fields should have water in plenty.</p> + +<p>So the early summer came and with it Jean's holidays. Her return, Angus +recognized, necessitated some preparation.</p> + +<p>"She'll have a fit when she sees the house," he told Turkey.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with it?" that young man asked.</p> + +<p>"She'll find plenty the matter with it," Angus predicted apprehensively. +"We'd better clean up a little."</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe we had," Turkey admitted.</p> + +<p>They gave the house what they considered a thorough cleaning, which +consisted in sweeping where it seemed necessary, and removing some of +the pot-black from kitchen utensils which Jean had never set down on the +fire. Angus eyed the rusty-red kitchen range, which Jean had kept black +and shining.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if we hadn't better give that a touch of polish," he said. +"Where is the polish, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Search me," Turkey replied. "I've never seen any. What's the use? It +cooks all right."</p> + +<p>They could not find Jean's polish, and experimented with black harness +dressing. But the smoke when the fire was lit drove them out of the +house, and they let it go.</p> + +<p>Angus drove into town to meet Jean behind a pair of slashing, +upstanding, bright-bay three-year-olds, of which he was very proud. Jean +had never seen them in harness—indeed they had been harnessed less than +a dozen times—and he anticipated her pleasure in them, for she loved +horses. He put up and fed the colts at the livery stable, had his +dinner, made some purchases, and as it was nearly time for the river +steamer on which Jean would arrive, turned toward the stable to hitch +up.</p> + +<p>As he turned a corner he met Garland, Blake French, and several other +young men. Apparently they were out on a time, for none of them were +entirely steady upon their legs. Blake French, however, was much the +worst.</p> + +<p>In the years that had passed the French family had not changed their +habits. The ranch was still a hang-out for every waster in the country. +But the young men were away a great deal in the summer and fall, +following the various local races. They had two or three good horses, +and seemed to find the sport profitable. Also they had achieved a rather +unenviable notoriety. They had all been mixed up more or less in various +rows, but somehow these matters had been hushed up. Nobody desired to +incur the enmity of a family which was supposed to have money, and one +way and another a good deal of influence.</p> + +<p>Angus would have passed, but Garland stopped him, asking him to come and +have a drink. Angus refused civilly, and Blake sneered.</p> + +<p>"It won't cost you anything," he said thickly.</p> + +<p>"I don't drink," Angus said shortly.</p> + +<p>"Do you do anything?" Blake sneered. "Do you have any fun at all?"</p> + +<p>"What I have is my own business," Angus returned, his temper beginning +to ruffle.</p> + +<p>Blake French, his brow lowering, caught him by the lapel of the coat. +"Are you telling me to mind my own business?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"That will be plenty of that sort of thing," Angus told him. "Let go, +now, and don't pull me about."</p> + +<p>But Blake, being surly and quarrelsome even when sober, gave the lapel a +savage jerk, and reached out with his other hand. Angus caught his +wrist, and brought a stiffened forearm across his throat. At the same +moment he stepped forward, crooked his right leg behind Blake's left +knee and threw his full weight against him. Blake went down hard, but +was up in an instant and made a staggering rush. Angus dodged.</p> + +<p>"Take care of him, you!" he said to Garland. "I don't want to hit him."</p> + +<p>Blake's friends closed in on him, and Angus made his escape. He was glad +to get clear so easily, for he had no mind to be mixed up in a fight on +the street. He hooked up the colts and drove down to the landing, +hearing as he did so the deep bellow of the river steamer's whistle. +When he got the colts tied and went out on the wharf the boat had +already docked. Behind a group of passengers a girl was bending over a +couple of grips. Her back was toward Angus, and never doubting that it +was Jean, he reached down with one hand for a grip, while he slipped his +other arm around her waist.</p> + +<p>"Hello, old girl!" he said. But to his utter amazement, as she snapped +erect in the crook of his arm, it was not Jean at all. This girl was +taller, black of hair and blue of eye. For a moment he did not recognize +her, and then he knew her for Kathleen French, whom he had not seen for +more than a year. "Oh," he said blankly, "it's you!"</p> + +<p>"I think so," she said dryly. "I can stand without being held, thanks."</p> + +<p>Angus dropped his arm from her waist, blushing.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were Jean. I'm awfully sorry."</p> + +<p>Kathleen French's dark blue eyes looked him up and down, and to his +relief she seemed more amused than angry.</p> + +<p>"But your sister wasn't on the boat. It's nice to be welcomed by +somebody." She frowned, glancing down the wharf. "Have you seen any of +my brothers? Somebody should be here to meet me."</p> + +<p>"Blake is in town. I haven't seen any of the other boys."</p> + +<p>"Then why isn't Blake here?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Angus returned. "It's not my fault, is it?"</p> + +<p>"No, of course not. He was to be here—or somebody was—and drive me +out. I suppose I'll have to go somewhere and wait his pleasure. Where is +he, do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Why—" Angus began doubtfully, and stopped.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Kathleen French, "has Blake been drinking?"</p> + +<p>"I think he could drive all right."</p> + +<p>"Pig! Brute!" Blake's sister ejaculated viciously. "He couldn't keep +sober, even to meet me. Didn't think I mattered, I suppose. I'll show +him. Able to drive, is he? Well, he isn't able to drive me. I'll get a +livery rig."</p> + +<p>"I will drive you out."</p> + +<p>"That's good of you. But it's out of your way."</p> + +<p>"It will do the colts good—take the edge off them. But I don't know +what to do about Jean. She was to have come on this boat."</p> + +<p>"She must have missed it. Likely she will be on the next."</p> + +<p>This seemed probable. As there was nothing to be done about it, Angus +went for Kathleen's trunk. He wheeled it on a truck to the rig, picked +it up and deposited it in the wagon back of the seat without apparent +effort. As the trunk went up Kathleen French's eyes widened a little. He +turned to her.</p> + +<p>"The step is broken and if you climb in the mud will get on your dress," +he said. "I had better lift you over the wheel, if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't mind."</p> + +<p>He lifted her up as one holds a child aloft to see a passing parade, +until her feet set on top of the wheel. As she seated herself she +glanced at him with a queer expression of puzzlement. He unhitched the +colts, gathered up the lines and came up over the wheel beside her. As +he dropped into the seat the team got away with a plunge and they went +townward with slack tugs, the reins and Angus' arms pulling the load.</p> + +<p>"They're a little frisky," he said. "They'll be all right when they get +out of town."</p> + +<p>"You don't think I'm afraid, do you?" she said.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess you are not nervous of horses."</p> + +<p>Angus hoped they would see nothing of Blake. But as they clattered up +the main street, the colts dancing and fighting the bits and Angus +holding them with a double wrap and talking to them steadily to quiet +them, Blake and his companions were crossing from one side to the other. +He recognized Angus and his sister, and probably remembered that he was +to meet her. With the memory of his recent encounter surging in his +fogged brain he lurched out into the roadway and called on Angus to +stop; and as the latter did not do so, he made an unsteady rush for the +colts' heads.</p> + +<p>Just then Angus could not have stopped the colts if he had wished to, +and he did not wish it. He knew that if Blake got hold of them it meant +a wrangle on the street, and so he loosed a wrap and clicked a sharp +command. The colts went into their collars with a bound.</p> + +<p>As they did so Kathleen French reached swiftly across and plucked the +whip from its socket on the dash. Angus had time for just one glance. +The nigh forewheel was just grazing Blake, so that he jumped back. His +flushed, scowling face was upturned, his mouth open in imprecation. Then +with a vicious swish and crack the lash of the blacksnake curled down +over his head and shoulders, and he went out of sight.</p> + +<p>Angus was too fully occupied with the colts to look back. They missed a +wagon and a buggy by inches merely, and were a mile out of town before +he was able to pull them down to an ordinary gait; and he was in no +sweet temper at them, at Blake, and even at Blake's sister; for that +young lady's swishing cut with the whip had put the finishing touch to +the colts' nerves.</p> + +<p>Kathleen herself had not uttered a word, nor had she grasped the seat +rail, even when in danger of collision. Now she sat upright, an angry +color in her cheeks, her mouth set in a straight line, and the whip +still in her hand. She met Angus' eyes with a defiant stare.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I didn't say anything."</p> + +<p>"You're thinking a lot, though."</p> + +<p>"Am I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are! And don't you say a word of it to me. I can't stand it."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to say anything," Angus told her, and stared ahead over +the colts' ears, in which companionable fashion they drove for nearly +two miles. Then he felt her hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Angus. I was utterly rude. Let it go, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," he assented. "I wasn't any too polite myself. The team +nearly got away from me."</p> + +<p>"And then you think I shouldn't have taken the whip to Blake."</p> + +<p>"You might have taken an ax to him for all I'd care," Angus admitted.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" she said. "Have you had any trouble with Blake?"</p> + +<p>"No real trouble." He told her what had occurred.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm glad I used the whip," she commented. "He won't be proud of +it—before his friends. Wait till I see the boys! A nice lot, sending +Blake—Blake!—to meet me." Her teeth clicked over the words. "I +suppose," she went on bitterly after a pause, "there's a black sheep in +every family. But in some families—What do you think of our family?"</p> + +<p>Angus stared at her. He had never thought much about the Frenches, who +were outside his orbit. Being young, one side of him had at times envied +their easy life; but another side of him held for them the grim, bitter +scorn of the worker for the idler and waster. These things, however, +were far below the surface.</p> + +<p>"I don't know your family very well," he said.</p> + +<p>She did not press the question.</p> + +<p>"That is so. Angus—I hope you don't mind being called that, any more +than I mind being called by my first name—we've known each other for +years, but not very well. Perhaps we'll know each other better. I'm home +for good. I'm supposed to be a young lady, now."</p> + +<p>"Are you?" said Angus. She laughed.</p> + +<p>"My education—polite and otherwise—is finished. That is what I mean. I +am now prepared to settle down to the serious business of life—of a +young woman's life."</p> + +<p>"And what is that?"</p> + +<p>"If you don't know I won't tell you. Never mind about me. Tell me about +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Myself? Oh, I've just been living on the ranch."</p> + +<p>She considered him gravely, and he stared back. Whatever she saw, he +found her decidedly good to look upon, not only because of her eyes and +hair and clear, satiny skin, but because of the lithe, clean-run shape +of her, which he admired as he would that of a horse, or an athlete's in +training. She broke the silence abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what my trunk weighs?"</p> + +<p>He glanced back at it, shaking his head. "No. It's riding all right +there."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what I weigh?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps a hundred and thirty."</p> + +<p>"Ten pounds more. And the trunk weighs more than two hundred."</p> + +<p>"Well, what about it?" Angus asked, puzzled.</p> + +<p>"What about it? Are you in the habit of picking up trunks like that as +if they were meat platters, and girls as if they were babies? I was +watching you, and you didn't even breathe hard."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that it?" Angus laughed. "That's nothing. Any of your brothers +could handle that trunk."</p> + +<p>"Gavin could, of course. But he's very strong."</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Angus, smiling at her.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, you must be. But I've always thought of you as a boy. And I +suppose you've thought of me as a gawky, long-legged girl."</p> + +<p>"I haven't thought of you at all," Angus told her.</p> + +<p>"Now I know I'm going to like you," she laughed. "I don't know a +man—except my brothers, who of course don't count—who would have told +me that."</p> + +<p>Angus flushed, but stuck to his guns.</p> + +<p>"Well, why should I think of you?"</p> + +<p>"No reason. You don't know much about girls, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing. I have had no time for them."</p> + +<p>"And no use for them!"</p> + +<p>"I did not say that."</p> + +<p>"But you looked it, Angus. I'll never forget the look of relief on your +face years ago when we appeared to take poor, little lost Faith Winton +off your hands—and off your pony. And yet she liked you. She speaks +still of how good and kind you were to her, though you frightened her at +first."</p> + +<p>"She must be thinking of Jean's doughnuts," Angus grinned. "I had +forgotten all about it. Where is she now?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. She and her father were in Italy when I heard from her +last."</p> + +<p>"She would be grown up," Angus deduced. "I wonder if I would know her?"</p> + +<p>But the French ranch hove in sight, its big two-story house and maze of +stables in a setting of uncared-for fields, which Angus never saw +without something akin to pain. A chorus of dogs greeted the sound of +wheels, and half a dozen of them shot around the corner of the house.</p> + +<p>Angus liked dogs, but not when he was driving colts. But just as they +began to dance and the nigh bay had lashed out with a vicious hoof, +Gavin French came around the corner, and at his command the dogs shrank +as if he had laid a whip across them. Just then Gavin was wearing riding +breeches, moccasins, and a flannel shirt wide open at the throat and +stagged off at the sleeves, so that the bronzed column of his neck and +the full sweep of his long, splendidly muscled arms were revealed. He +strode softly, cat-footed, gripping with his toes, and the smoke of the +short pipe which was his inseparable companion, drifted behind him.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Kit!" he said, and nodded to Angus. "Where is Blake? He went for +you."</p> + +<p>"Blake's drunk," Kathleen replied.</p> + +<p>"Drunk, is he?" Gavin said without surprise.</p> + +<p>"And you're a nice bunch of brothers to send him! Couldn't one of you +have come?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, he was going, anyway," said Gavin carelessly. "Did you see +him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw him. He tried to stop Angus' team on the main street, and I +slashed him back with the whip."</p> + +<p>"You little devil!" said her brother, but with a certain admiration in +his voice. "But that's pretty hard medicine, Kit!"</p> + +<p>"And what sort of medicine is it for me to have a drunken blackguard of +a brother run out on the street to hold up the rig I'm driving in?" she +flared. "I'm entitled to ordinary respect; even if I am a sister, and +Blake and all of you had better understand it now."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" said Gavin. "The trouble with you, Kit, is that you've got a +wire edge. You're set on a hair-trigger."</p> + +<p>"And the trouble with Blake and the whole lot of you is that you've run +wild," she retorted. "You've got so that you don't care for anything or +anybody. You're practically savages. But I can tell you, you'll remember +some of the ordinary usages of civilization now I'm home."</p> + +<p>"And a sweet temper you've come back in!" said Gavin. He lifted his +sister down over the wheel and reached for the trunk.</p> + +<p>"It's heavy, Gan," she said, with a glance at Angus.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" said Gavin, gripping the handles. He lifted it without apparent +effort, and set it on his right shoulder. "I may be able to stagger +along with it," he told her ironically. "Would you like me to carry you, +too?"</p> + +<p>"You can't!"</p> + +<p>"Can't I?" laughed the blond giant. "Have you any money left to bet on +that?"</p> + +<p>"Five dollars that you can't carry me and the trunk—upstairs and to my +room."</p> + +<p>"My five," said her brother. "Come here." With the trunk on his shoulder +he bent his knees till he squatted low on the balls of his feet. "Now +sit on my shoulder and put your right arm around my neck. Give me your +left hand. All set?"</p> + +<p>"All set."</p> + +<p>Angus watched with interest, doubtful if he could do it. But slowly, +steadily, without shake or tremor the knees of the big man began to +straighten, and his shoulders topped by girl and trunk to rise, until he +stood upright. Upright he hitched to get a better balance, and strode +off for the house as easily as Angus himself would have carried a sack +of oats. Kathleen looked back at him and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Angus. Thank you ever so much—and come and see me."</p> + +<p>The last thing Angus saw as he wheeled the colts for home, was the +burdened bulk of Gavin French stooping for the doorway.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>OLD SAM PAUL MAKES A PROPOSITION</h3> + + +<p>Jean arrived on the next boat three days later, with a tragic tale of +missed connections. It seemed to Angus that the few months of absence +had made quite a difference. She seemed, in fact, almost a young lady, +even to his brotherly eye.</p> + +<p>But however she had changed she had not lost her grip on practical +things, and when she began to look around the house Angus and Turkey +found that their trouble in cleaning up had been wasted. For Jean dug +into corners, and under and behind things where, as Turkey said, nobody +but a girl would ever think of looking; and in such obscure and +out-of-the-way places she found some dirt, some articles discarded or +lost, and the more or less permanent abode of Tom and Matilda.</p> + +<p>Tom and Matilda were mice, which had become thoroughly tame and +domesticated. In the evenings Rennie fed them oatmeal and scraps of +cheese, chuckling to see them sit up on their hunkers and polish their +whiskers and wink their beady, little eyes, and all hands had united in +keeping the cats out. Everybody had regarded Tom and Matilda as good +citizens; and they had developed a simple and touching trust in mankind. +But Jean broke up their home ruthlessly, with exclamations of disgust; +and commandeering all the men for a day, turned the house inside out, +beat, swept, washed and scrubbed; and then put everything back again. +She professed to see a great difference, but nobody else agreed with +her.</p> + +<p>"The only difference I see," said Turkey, "is that I don't know where to +find a darn thing."</p> + +<p>"Well, you won't find it on the floor, or under a heap of rubbish six +months old," Jean told him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right," Turkey grumbled. "Now you've got all our things mixed +up maybe you'll be satisfied."</p> + +<p>Jean appealed to Angus, who agreed with Turkey. Whereat Jean sniffed and +left them to their opinions.</p> + +<p>Angus was a little apprehensive of his first meeting Blake French, but +to his relief the latter chose to ignore what had occurred. Rather to +his surprise Kathleen rode over to call on Jean, and the two girls +struck up a certain friendship. Thus Angus saw more of Kathleen and her +people than he had ever done before, including the head of the family, +Godfrey French himself.</p> + +<p>Godfrey French, though well on in years, was still erect and spare. He +had a cold, blue eye, much like Gavin's, but now a trifle weary, and a +slightly bent cynical mouth beneath a white moustach. He was invariably +courteous and dignified, and whatever might be said of his sons, there +was no doubt that the father possessed the ingrained manner of a +gentleman. Yet Angus did not like him, and he thought that old French +had little or no use for him. Somehow, French put him in mind of a +gray-muzzled old fox.</p> + +<p>One day in mid-summer as Angus sat in the shade of the workshop mending +a broken harness, old Paul Sam on his single-footing pony drew up at the +door.</p> + +<p>"'Al-lo!" he greeted.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Paul Sam," Angus returned. "You feel skookum to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Skookum, me," the Indian replied. "Skookum, you?"</p> + +<p>"Skookum, me," Angus told him.</p> + +<p>The old man got off his pony, sat down on an empty box, and drew out an +old buckskin, bead-worked fire-bag. From this he produced a stone pipe +bowl and a reed stem. Fitting the two together he filled the bowl and +smoked.</p> + +<p>This, Angus knew, was diplomacy. Whatever the Indian had come for, not a +word concerning it would he say till he had had his smoke. Then it would +probably be unimportant. So Angus waited in silence, and Paul Sam smoked +in silence. Finally the latter tapped out and unjointed his pipe and put +it away in his fire-bag.</p> + +<p>"Me got cooley kuitan," he announced.</p> + +<p>"Cooley" is apparently a corruption of the French word "courir," to run. +"Kuitan" is a horse. Hence a "cooley kuitan" in Chinook signifies a race +horse.</p> + +<p>Angus shook his head. He knew very well what Sam Paul intended doing +with this race horse. There was a local race meet each year, in +connection with the local fair. The race meet outsized the fair, dwarfed +it in interest. It drew tin horns and sure-thing gamblers as fresh meat +draws flies. These gentry ran various games, open when they could and +under cover when they could not. Then there were men with a seasoned old +ringer under a new name, or a couple of skates with which to pull off a +faked match race. There were various races, but the big event was a mile +for horses locally owned. There was some excellent stock in the country, +and great rivalry developed.</p> + +<p>In this race each year the Indians had entered some alleged running +horse and backed it gamely. But each year they lost, their horses being +neither trained nor ridden properly, and being completely outclassed as +well; for as a rule they were merely good saddle cayuses and +overweighted at that. This year French's horse, a beautiful, bright bay +named Flambeau, seemed likely to win. Angus had seen him and admired +him. Therefore he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You only think you've got a cooley kuitan," he said. "Keep out of that +race, Paul Sam. You'll only lose money."</p> + +<p>"Him good," the Indian insisted. "S'pose him get good rider him win. +Injun boy no good to ride. Injun boy all right in Injun race; no good in +white man's race."</p> + +<p>"That's true enough," Angus agreed. "Injun boy don't kumtux the game. +Well, what about it?"</p> + +<p>"Mebbe-so you catch white boy to ride um?" Paul Sam suggested.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean Turkey?" Angus queried.</p> + +<p>"Ha-a-lo," Paul Sam negatived. "White boy, all same ride white man's +horse."</p> + +<p>"A jockey! Where would I get you a jockey?"</p> + +<p>But that detail was none of Paul Sam's business.</p> + +<p>"You catch um jock!" he said hopefully.</p> + +<p>"But I don't know where to get one. A jockey would cost money, and you +wouldn't win, anyway. You Injuns start a horse every year, and you never +have one that has a lookin. You'd better get the idea out of your head."</p> + +<p>But an idea once implanted in an Indian's head is apt to stay. Paul Sam +grinned complacently.</p> + +<p>"Me got dam' good cooley kuitan. Me kumtux kuitan."</p> + +<p>He told Angus the history of his horse, as he knew it. Stripped of +details, it amounted to this: Some five years before a fine English mare +which had been the property of a deceased remittance man, had been +auctioned off. She was in foal, and the colt in due course had been +sold, and in some obscure and involved cattle deal had become the +property of Paul Sam, who had let him run with his cayuses. When he +broke him to the saddle he found him remarkably fast. Being a real fox, +he said nothing about the colt's turn of speed, but bided his time. Now, +in his opinion, he could make a killing and spoil the Egyptian, alias +the white man, if only the colt were properly trained and ridden. He +applied to Angus for help, as being the son of his tillikum, Adam +Mackay. He invited him out to inspect the horse.</p> + +<p>Angus went and took Dave Rennie. The horse which Paul Sam led forth for +inspection was a big, slashing four-year-old, with a good head, an +honest eye, deep chest and clean, flat limbs. Every line of him told of +power and endurance; and to the eye which could translate power into +terms of speed, of the latter as well. Rennie whistled softly.</p> + +<p>"He looks to me like he had real blood in him. He's a weight carrier. +English hunting stock, I sh'd say. Some of 'em can run, all right. If +the mare was in foal when she was brought out, I wouldn't wonder if this +boy's sire was real class. He looks it." The big horse reached out a +twitching muzzle to investigate. Rennie stroked the velvet nose. "Kind +as a kitten, too. He seems to have the build, but that don't say he can +run."</p> + +<p>"Him run," Paul Sam affirmed. "You ride him."</p> + +<p>He cinched an old stock saddle on the chestnut, and Rennie mounted. He +cantered easily across the flat and back.</p> + +<p>"He's easy as an old rocker and light as a driftin' cloud," he said. +"The bit worries him, though. He needs rubber. You get on him, and see +what a real horse feels like."</p> + +<p>Angus lengthened the stirrups and swung up. As soon as he felt the +motion he knew he was astride a wondrous piece of mechanism. The +undulating lift of the big chestnut was as easy and effortless and +sustained as a smooth, rolling swell. Of his own accord the horse +quickened his pace from the easy sling of the canter to a long, +stretching, hand-gallop, drawing great lungfuls of air, shaking his +head, rejoicing in his own motion, glad to be doing the work he was +fitted for. At the end of the little flat Angus pulled up and turned. +Rennie's distant shout came faintly:</p> + +<p>"Let him come!"</p> + +<p>Breathing the horse for a moment, Angus loosed him from the canter to +the gallop and then, as he felt the coil and uncoil of the splendid +muscles, and the swell and quiver of the body, and the increasing reach +and stretch of the ever-quickening stride, he let him run.</p> + +<p>All his life Angus had ridden ponies, cayuses, but now he had a new +experience. The big chestnut, as he was given his head, made half a +dozen great bounds and then, steadying himself, he stretched his neck, +his body seemed to sink and straighten, and with muzzle almost in line +with his ears he began to put forth the speed that was in him. The rapid +drum of his hoofs quickened to a roar; the wind sang in Angus' ears; the +figures of Paul and Sam and Rennie seemed to come toward him, and he +shot past them and gradually eased the willing horse to canter and +walk.</p> + +<p>"Him cooley kuitan, hey?" Paul Sam grinned. "You catch um jock?"</p> + +<p>"But I don't know where to get one," Angus replied.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Rennie, "I don't know where to get no regular jockey, but I +know an old has-been that used to ride twenty years ago, before he got +smashed up. I dunno 's he'd ride now, in a race, but he could put the +horse in shape. He's got a fruit and chicken ranch somewheres on the +coast. Me and him was kids together, and he might come if I asked him. +Only he wouldn't do it for nothing."</p> + +<p>"You catch um," said Paul Sam. "Me pay um. Mebbe-so me win hiyu dolla!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>DORGAN</h3> + + +<p>In due course a small, clean-shaven man who walked with a slight limp +surveyed the big chestnut with a shrewd, bright eye. This was Rennie's +friend, the ex-jockey.</p> + +<p>"Like his looks, Pete?" Rennie queried.</p> + +<p>Pete, whose surname was Dorgan, nodded. "I like 'em some ways," he +admitted. "He's got power to burn, and that'll give him speed—some. In +five miles he'd be runnin' strong, but he might not be fast enough at a +mile. 'Course, I don't know nothin' about what he'll be up ag'inst. What +time has this race been run in, other years?" When Angus told him he +grunted. "Good as that? Must be some real horses here. You're sure he +ain't stolen? I wouldn't want to be mixed up in a deal like that, even +if I am out of the game."</p> + +<p>"He ain't stolen. This old Injun is as straight as you are."</p> + +<p>"Well, I've been called crooked before now," Dorgan grinned. "But if you +say so, Dave, I guess this old boy is all right. You can tell him I'll +put the horse in the best shape I can, and maybe I'll ride him. If I +don't, I'll get a boy. But I ain't goin' to live with a bunch of Injuns +while I'm doin' it, and the horse has to be taken out of here." He eyed +Paul Sam's primitive stable arrangements with disgust. "He's ruinin' his +feet."</p> + +<p>Paul Sam made no objection, and the big chestnut which Dorgan christened +"Chief," was brought to the Mackay ranch. There he was installed in a +disused building which lay behind the other stables and some distance +from them.</p> + +<p>"The way I get it," said Dorgan, "we better keep this horse under cover +as long as we can. From what you say, there ain't been no class to the +hay-hounds the Siwashes has started other years, and so an Injun entry +is a joke entry. Nobody knows this horse, and seein' him the way he is +now, not many'd pipe what he really is unless they was wised up. But you +let some of these wise local birds lamp him after I've had him a couple +of weeks, and they might smell something. Then I may's well keep dark +myself. Not that I'm ashamed of myself more'n I ought to be, but +somebody might remember me, though I ain't ridden for years. So I'll be +an extra hand you've hired, see? Me and Chief will take our work-outs on +the quiet as long as we can."</p> + +<p>So Dorgan gave the horse his exercise on a little prairie a mile back of +the ranch. As he had predicted, a couple of weeks made a vast difference +in his appearance. Groomed till his chestnut coat was gleaming, dappled +satin, his feet trimmed and cleaned and polished and shod by Dorgan +himself, fed bright, clean grain and savory mashes and bedded to the +knees nightly in sweet straw, Chief tasted for the first time the joys +of the equine aristocracy to which he belonged.</p> + +<p>But somehow the rumor that the Indians had a mysterious horse and rider +got going, and one day Dorgan, who had been to town, came to Angus.</p> + +<p>"Say," he said, "do you know a hard-faced bird, near as big as you are +but older and heavier, that looks like a bad actor and likes the juice? +He seems to be the king-pin of a bunch of young rye-hounds that think +they're sports."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean Blake French?"</p> + +<p>"That's the outfit that owns this Flambeau horse, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. What about it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin' much. He'd have bought me a lot of friendship sealers if I'd +let him. Then there was a feller, name of Garland, that thinks he's a +warm member, and claimed he'd seen me ridin' long ago when he was a kid. +He might of, at that. They sorter fished around to find out what I was +doin' here. But they know, all right. If I was crooked I b'lieve I could +do business with them two."</p> + +<p>"I've never heard that they would do anything crooked. Of course they +might try to find out all they could."</p> + +<p>"If I'd taken all the crooked money I've been offered," said Dorgan, +"and got away with it, I wouldn't need to be worryin' about apples and +chickens now. I know when a feller's feelin' me out, same as I know when +a couple of young burglars is holdin' a pocket open for me to ride +into."</p> + +<p>"But they don't know if Paul Sam's horse can run or not."</p> + +<p>"That's their trouble. But if they can fix somebody, they don't need to +care."</p> + +<p>A couple of days after this, Angus, coming around Chief's quarters from +the rear, overheard Dorgan earnestly assuring Kathleen French that Chief +was quarantined for threatened influenza; and further that he was a +saddle horse, pure and simple, with no more speed than a cow. With a +glance at Angus which was intended to convey grave warning, he beat a +retreat.</p> + +<p>"Who is the remarkable liar?" Kathleen asked.</p> + +<p>"Is he that? His name is Pete Dorgan."</p> + +<p>"If you have a deadline on the place you ought to put up a sign," she +told him. "How did I know I was butting in?"</p> + +<p>"How do you know it now?"</p> + +<p>"Because I have average intelligence. I didn't know there was a horse +here at all. I was looking for Jean, and when I saw a perfectly +splendid, strange animal, naturally I stopped to look at him. I also saw +a little, flat pigskin saddle, and I saw that the horse was wearing +plates. Then this Dorgan appeared and lied straight ahead without the +least provocation, looking me in the face without the quiver of an +eyelash. I didn't ask him a single question, I give you my word.</p> + +<p>"There's no special reason why you shouldn't. The horse isn't mine. But +the fact is, his owner and Dorgan aren't saying anything about him."</p> + +<p>"Angus! he isn't—but no, of course he isn't!"</p> + +<p>"Isn't what?"</p> + +<p>"A ringer. I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't go into anything like that if +you knew it."</p> + +<p>Angus laughed. "He's no ringer. He belongs to Paul Sam." He told her as +much as he thought necessary of the animal's history.</p> + +<p>"Thanks for the confidence," she nodded. "I'll say nothing about it. If +you had treated me as Dorgan did, I should have felt hurt."</p> + +<p>"He didn't know you. He thinks this horse will give you a race."</p> + +<p>"What, beat Flambeau!" she cried. "Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Well, he seems to be a pretty good horse."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll bet you an even hundred now!" she challenged.</p> + +<p>"No, no. I don't want to bet with you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you needn't have any scruples. The boys take my money—when they +can get it."</p> + +<p>"But I don't think I'll bet at all."</p> + +<p>"Then what on earth are you doing with the horse?" she asked in frank +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"He is just stabled here."</p> + +<p>"But I don't see why you won't bet if you think the horse has a good +chance."</p> + +<p>"Because I can't afford to lose."</p> + +<p>"But that makes it all the more exciting."</p> + +<p>"It makes it all the more foolish," Angus told her grimly. "It is all +very well for you; you people can afford to play with money."</p> + +<p>"How do you know we can?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I've always heard so."</p> + +<p>"And therefore it must be so." She switched the grass, looking down. +"Well, whether it is or not, we're born gamblers—the whole family. +Perhaps we can't help it. But sometimes—sometimes I wish it were +different. I wish the boys would work as you work; and—and that I were +a home girl with a nice big brother."</p> + +<p>"You have enough big brothers," Angus told her. "I think myself it would +do them no harm to work, but it is none of my business. I did not mean +to seem curious about your affairs. Anyway, some day you will be +marrying and leaving them."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she admitted. "The chief end of—woman! Oh, I suppose +so—some day. Well?"</p> + +<p>"That's all. You will likely marry somebody with plenty of money, and +then you will go away."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that I shall marry for money?"</p> + +<p>"No, but if your husband has it, it will be no drawback. Lots of these +young fellows who go to your ranch are well fixed—or will be when +somebody dies."</p> + +<p>"How nicely you arrange my future. Which one of them am I to marry, +please?"</p> + +<p>"Whichever one you love best."</p> + +<p>"What on earth do you know about love, Angus Mackay?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all. But that is why people get married, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I think I have heard so," she said dryly. "Will that be why you will +marry—some day?"</p> + +<p>"Why else?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Scotch! A question with a question! Would you marry for any other +reason?"</p> + +<p>"I would not marry a girl because she had money," said Angus, "because +the money would not be worth the nuisance of her if I didn't love her."</p> + +<p>Kathleen laughed at this frank statement, and went to find Jean. Angus' +reflections as to Kathleen were broken by the reappearance of Dorgan.</p> + +<p>"What did I tell you?" said the little man. "I guess my dope was poor, +huh!"</p> + +<p>"Your dope on what?"</p> + +<p>"On what? On them fellers I was talkin' to yesterday. Now here's +French's sister comes on the scout. When I seen her she was sure gettin' +an eyeful of Chief."</p> + +<p>"She was looking for my sister. She told me how it happened."</p> + +<p>"I'll gamble she did," Dorgan returned skeptically, "and I s'pose you +fell for it, like young fellers do. When a crook can't get the real dope +any other way, he plants a woman. That skirt——"</p> + +<p>"Go easy," Angus warned him. "That young lady is a friend of mine."</p> + +<p>"She ain't a friend of mine, and I got my own idea of what she was here +for. If you don't like it I'll keep it to myself."</p> + +<p>"You're barking up the wrong tree," Angus laughed. "She's as straight as +they make them. She says you're a remarkable liar, if you want to know."</p> + +<p>Dorgan grinned. "I said she was wise. Maybe my work was a little raw, +but she took me by surprise, and I was just doin' the best I could +off-hand."</p> + +<p>"You can't keep the horse cached forever."</p> + +<p>"That's all right. There's no use tellin' what you know most times. This +Flambeau from what I hear will carry a whole bunch of money for them +Frenches. They're givin' as good as five to three against the field. +That means they got the field sized up, or fixed. But they ain't got a +line on Chief, nor they ain't got me fixed, so their calculations has +been clean upset. Somebody's been watchin' me exercise, the last day or +two, but whoever it is ain't had a chance to clock nothin', because they +don't know the distances, and anyway I didn't let him out. They ain't +wise to him, but they're wise to me. They dope it out I wouldn't be +wastin' time on a horse that hadn't a chance. See what I'm gettin' at? A +pill or the needle would put Chief out of the money."</p> + +<p>"Nobody around here would do that," Angus told him.</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't hey?" said Dorgan with sarcasm. "Let me tell you that +right in the bushes is the place they put over stuff they couldn't get +by with nowheres else. The things I've seen pulled at these little, +local races would chill your blood. There's a bunch of murderers follows +'em up that'd hamstring a horse or sandbag an owner for a ten-case +note."</p> + +<p>"But—" Angus began.</p> + +<p>"But—nothing," Dorgan interrupted with contempt. "Don't you s'pose I've +been in the game long enough to know it? There'll be a bunch of tinhorns +and a wreckin' crew of crooked racin' men with a couple of outlaw +horses, all workin' together to skin the suckers. All them Frenches have +to do is to say it's worth fifty to fix any horse. You can maybe tell me +things about raisin' alfalfa, but not about racin'. When a woman gets +into the game, it's serious. After this I'm goin' to sleep right here."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>BEFORE THE RACE</h3> + + +<p>A few days before the race Dorgan moved Chief to one of half a dozen +sheds on the fair grounds, which a load of lumber and another of straw +made comfortable. There he dwelt with him, giving him easy exercise and +sizing up the other horses.</p> + +<p>"Outside this Flambeau there ain't much to worry about," he concluded. +"Only with a field of seven, like there will be in this race, there's +always the chance of something going wrong. Chief ain't wise to starts, +nor to running in company."</p> + +<p>"You catch 'um good start," Paul Sam advised.</p> + +<p>"You're a wise Injun," Dorgan told him. "I'll try to be somewhere's on +the line—or in front of it. Still, I ain't quite burglar-proof."</p> + +<p>At the fair Angus had a number of exhibits of ranch produce, cattle, and +his team of young drivers. The night before the race he had been +arranging his exhibits. This done he had supper, strolled around for an +hour, and then returned to the National House, which was the leading +hotel, in search of a man to whom he hoped to sell a few head of cattle. +He got the number of his prospective customer's room, but apparently he +had been misinformed, for the room held a poker game in full blast, the +players being Gavin and Gerald French, two somewhat hard-faced +strangers, and a young fellow about his own age whom he set down as an +Englishman.</p> + +<p>The French boys nodded a greeting.</p> + +<p>"Hold on a minute," said Gerald as Angus would have withdrawn. "I want +to see you."</p> + +<p>So Angus remained, and standing behind Gerald watched the play.</p> + +<p>One of the strangers dealt. On the draw Gerald held a full house; and +yet he dropped out, as did Gavin. The Englishman who stayed lost most of +his remaining stack. But the winning stranger did not seem elated. He +scowled at the pot as he took it in.</p> + +<p>Wondering what intuition had bade Gerald lay down a full—for the pot +had been won by fours—Angus continued to watch the game. The deal came +to Gerald, who riffled the cards.</p> + +<p>"Time we had a drink," said he and rising brushed past Angus to touch a +wall button. Reseating himself he began to deal.</p> + +<p>One of the strangers opened. Gerald, as Angus could see, had nothing. +Nevertheless he stayed, drawing three cards. Everybody stayed. The +betting was brisk, and the pile of chips in the center grew. Gerald was +the first to drop out. One of the strangers and the Englishman followed +suit. Thus it was between the remaining stranger and Gavin. They +proceeded to raise each other.</p> + +<p>"If the limit was something worth while," said the stranger, "I could +get proper action on this hand."</p> + +<p>"It's high enough for these ranchers," the other stranger observed. +"They don't like a hard game."</p> + +<p>"What would you like?" Gavin queried.</p> + +<p>"If you're game to lift it, you can come after a hundred."</p> + +<p>Gavin, reaching into his pocket, brought forth a sheaf of currency from +which he stripped two bills.</p> + +<p>"<i>And</i> a hundred," he said.</p> + +<p>The stranger's breath sucked hard through his teeth. His companion +glanced swiftly and suspiciously at him and then at Gerald.</p> + +<p>"This started out as a friendly game," he observed, a note of warning in +his voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's his hundred," the player said. "What you got? Come +on—show 'em." He leaned forward.</p> + +<p>"All the bullets," Gavin replied. He spread four aces face up, while his +other hand reached for the pot.</p> + +<p>The other stranger leaned forward, also, peering at the cards. Suddenly +he started and his hand shot toward them. But Gavin's fell on it, +pinning it to the table.</p> + +<p>"What are you trying to do?" he demanded. Beneath the coldness of his +tone there was something hard and menacing. The stranger wrenched to +free his hand. It remained pinned in Gavin's grasp.</p> + +<p>"I want to see those cards!" he cried with an oath.</p> + +<p>"Where do you come in?" Gavin asked. "You didn't call me."</p> + +<p>"But I did," the losing stranger broke in. "I want to see those cards, +and I'm going to."</p> + +<p>"You're looking at them now," Gavin pointed out.</p> + +<p>Gerald coolly swept up the cards.</p> + +<p>"I dealt them," he said. "They look all right to me. Four aces and a +club seven. Take a look at them, Mackay, and see if this man has +anything to kick at."</p> + +<p>Thus appealed to, Angus took the cards. "I don't see anything wrong with +them," he said.</p> + +<p>"You don't, hey?" cried the loser. "I'm wise to you now. You did it, did +you?"</p> + +<p>"Did what?" Angus queried.</p> + +<p>"Slipped him a cold deck!" the other roared. "You did it when he got up +to press the button."</p> + +<p>"I did nothing of the sort!" Angus denied in amazement.</p> + +<p>"You're a liar!" the other shrilled. "D'ye think we're going to be +cold-decked by a bunch of hicks?" He turned to Gavin. "Come through with +that money, or——"</p> + +<p>"Or what?" Gavin asked.</p> + +<p>By way of bluff or otherwise the stranger resorted to the old, cogent +argument. His right hand dropped swiftly. But as it did so Gavin thrust +the table forward violently. The man went backward, chair and all. +Gerald pounced on him like a leopard, caught his arm and twisted a +short-barreled gun from the clutching fingers. Gavin, with equal +quickness and less effort, caught and disarmed the other man, who +without a word had reached for his gun to back his friend.</p> + +<p>"Bad actors, you two!" Gerald sneered. "Gamblers—gunmen. Shocking! +What'll we do with them, Gan?"</p> + +<p>"Let 'em go," said the big man contemptuously, releasing his captive and +flipping the cartridges from the gun. "Beat it, you blighters, and pick +out easier marks next time."</p> + +<p>"You big crook!" snarled the owner of the gun, "I'll get you——"</p> + +<p>He never finished the sentence, for Gavin was on him. He caught him by +the clothes above his breast, lifted him clear and slammed him back +against the wall. There he held him, pinned with one hand, like a moth +in a show-case.</p> + +<p>"Get me, will you?" he growled hoarsely. "If I hit you, you cheap +tinhorn, you'd never get me or anybody else. Try to get me, and I'll +break your back over my knee. Like this!"</p> + +<p>He plucked the man away from the wall as if he had been a doll, and +threw him, back down, across his knee. For an instant he held him, and +then set him on his feet. The man's face was the dead gray of asbestos +paper.</p> + +<p>"Git!" Gavin commanded. "Don't fool around here or make any more bluffs. +Get out of town."</p> + +<p>When the two strangers had gone, Gerald laughed gently.</p> + +<p>"This breaks up our game, I guess," he said. "By the way—Angus +Mackay—Mr. Chetwood."</p> + +<p>The two young men shook hands. Chetwood was a long-limbed young fellow +with the old-country color fresh in his cheeks, frank blue eyes with a +baby stare which would have been a credit to any ingenue, but which held +an occasional twinkle quite at variance with their ordinary expression. +Angus was inclined to like him. Chetwood, on his part, eyed the lean, +hard, sinewy bulk of Angus with admiration.</p> + +<p>"I say, what was all the row about?" he asked Gerald. "They accused you +of cheating, what?"</p> + +<p>"Old game," said Gerald carelessly. "They went up against an unbeatable +hand, lost more than they could afford, and tried to run a bluff. They +were both crooks, anyway."</p> + +<p>"But if you knew that, why the deuce did you play with them?"</p> + +<p>"You can't be too particular if you want a game," Gerald laughed.</p> + +<p>"You do things so dam' casual out here," Chetwood complained +whimsically. "Now when they tried to draw revolvers—'guns' you call +them out here—I should have given them in charge."</p> + +<p>"Too much trouble and no police force handy," said Gerald. "But I wanted +to ask you about that horse you've been training for the Indians, +Mackay. Are you betting on him?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't been training him, and I don't think I'll bet. The Indians +will, though."</p> + +<p>"Tell 'em we'll take all the money they have, at evens."</p> + +<p>"Even money against the field?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. You'd better take a little yourself."</p> + +<p>But Angus refused, principally because he had no money to lose. They +went down to the lobby. This was crowded. Blake French, standing on a +chair, was flourishing a sheaf of bills, offering even money as his +brothers had done. He had been drinking, and his remarks seemed to be +directed at some certain person or persons.</p> + +<p>Looking over the heads of the crowd, Angus saw Dorgan and Paul Sam +standing together. The old Indian, bare-headed, his gray braids hanging +in front of either shoulder, wearing a blanket coat, skin-tight leggins +and brand-new moccasins, made an incongruous figure. The two, seeing +Angus, made their way toward him.</p> + +<p>"That bird," said Dorgan nodding toward Blake, "is makin' a cinch offer. +Take all you can get. The old boy, here, was just waitin' for you to +hold the bets."</p> + +<p>"S'pose you hold money, me bet him now," Paul Sam confirmed.</p> + +<p>"Come on, come on!" Blake vociferated from his perch. "Put up a bet on +your—cayuse. Here's real money. Come and get it!"</p> + +<p>Dorgan turned to face him.</p> + +<p>"You're makin' a whole lot of noise on that handful of chicken feed," he +observed.</p> + +<p>"Come and take it then," Blake retorted. "They tell me you used to ride +for white men once."</p> + +<p>"Well, that never gave <i>you</i> no first call on me!" Dorgan shot back.</p> + +<p>Somebody laughed, and Blake's temper, always ugly, flared up.</p> + +<p>"Keep a civil tongue in your head, you down-and-outer, or I'll throw you +out!" he rasped.</p> + +<p>But Dorgan was not awed by the threat, nor by the size of the man who +made it.</p> + +<p>"Your own tongue ain't workin' none too smooth," he retorted. "Throw me +out, hey? About all you'll throw will be a D. T. fit. A hunk of mice +bait, that's about what you are, color and all."</p> + +<p>With an oath Blake leaped from his chair, sending it crashing behind +him. Perfectly game, little Dorgan crouched to meet the rush, in an +attitude which showed a certain experience.</p> + +<p>But Angus, cursing the luck which seemed to lead him athwart Blake, +stepped between them.</p> + +<p>"Hold on, now," he said. "You mustn't——"</p> + +<p>"Get out of my way!" Blake roared.</p> + +<p>"Now wait!" Angus insisted pacifically. "It wouldn't——"</p> + +<p>But Blake struck at him. Angus dodged and clinched. But as he began to +shove Blake back Gavin's great arms were thrust between them.</p> + +<p>"Let go, Mackay," he said. "Quit it!" he commanded Blake.</p> + +<p>"I'll show that runt he can't insult me!" the latter frothed. "Yes, and +Mackay, too. Turn me loose, Gan——"</p> + +<p>"You can't beat up their jockey before the race," his brother told him. +"Too raw. Mackay? Mackay'd make a mess of you. Quit it, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"I'll——" Blake began. But Gavin suddenly cursed him.</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to handle you?" he demanded. In his voice came the +hoarse, growling note it had held when he had spoken to the man pinned +against the wall. His hand clamped his brother's wrist and his eyes +blazed. Half drunk as he was, Blake apparently recognized these danger +signals.</p> + +<p>"Let go," he said. "I won't start anything."</p> + +<p>His brother eyed him for a moment and turned to Paul Sam.</p> + +<p>"How much do you want to bet?"</p> + +<p>For answer the Indian pulled forth a huge roll of bills bound by a +buckskin thong. They represented sales of steers, cayuses, skins of +marten, beaver, bear and lynx, bounties on coyotes and mountain lion.</p> + +<p>"Bet um all!" he announced succinctly.</p> + +<p>"See what he's got," Gavin said to Angus, "and we'll cover it."</p> + +<p>Angus sorted out the currency. It was in bills of various denominations +and various stages of dilapidation. The amount totaled a little over +twelve hundred dollars.</p> + +<p>"We'll put up a check," said Gerald.</p> + +<p>But when this was explained to Paul Sam, he interposed a decided +negative. He himself was putting up real, tangible money, that could be +handled and counted. Similar money must be put up against it. And when +this was procured, with considerable difficulty at that time of night, +he would not hear of it being put in the hotel safe, but insisted that +Angus should hold it literally.</p> + +<p>"Ha-a-lo put um in skookum box," he declared positively. "Me know you. +S'pose you keep money, s'pose me win, me catch um sure. S'pose him put +in skookum box, mebbe so me no catch um. You keep um money."</p> + +<p>Reluctantly, Angus accepted its custody, but privately he made up his +mind to deposit it in the safe as soon as the old Indian had gone. Soon +after, Chetwood drew him aside.</p> + +<p>"I've a fancy to have a little on the old buster's horse," he announced. +"What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"I don't say anything; it's your money."</p> + +<p>"Quite so. But what sort of a run do you think I'll get for it?"</p> + +<p>"The best the horse has in him, whatever that is."</p> + +<p>"Then I've a notion to have a go at it."</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about the horses?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing," Chetwood replied cheerfully. "In the expressive language +of the country, I'm playing a hunch. That old Indian takes my eye, +rather."</p> + +<p>"He's foxy enough. But the Indians have entered a horse every year, and +never won yet."</p> + +<p>"But a chap can't lose all the time," Chetwood observed. "And then the +Frenches are offering even money against the field. No end sporting of +'em, but risky. That little ex-jockey knows his business?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. Perhaps you'd like to have a talk with him and see the +horse. He's going out now, and we'll go with him, if you care to."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Chetwood acknowledged. "That's very decent of you, Mackay. I'd +like it very much."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>A HOLD-UP</h3> + + +<p>The road to the track, which was nearly a mile beyond the town, was +lonely and dark. Most of the way it ran through a wooded flat, and the +tree shadows overlay it with denser gloom. But at last they emerged from +the trees upon the natural prairie which held track and fair grounds. +Along one side was a row of sheds, and here and there a lantern gleamed. +Toward one of these lights Dorgan led them.</p> + +<p>Dave Rennie, reading beside a lantern, nodded silently and, introduced +to Chetwood, regarded him with disfavor, as a remittance man, one of the +balloon-pants brigade.</p> + +<p>"Everything all right, Davy?" Dorgan asked.</p> + +<p>"Quiet now. There was a row down among the sheds a while ago. A pair of +drunks mixed it, till we pulled 'em apart."</p> + +<p>Dorgan picked up the lantern and illuminated a stall at the rear. Chief +seemed uneasy, sidling away from the light, snorting and shaking his +head. Chetwood moved with him, inspecting him closely.</p> + +<p>"I should say that he has plenty of staying power," he observed. "At the +distance I'd back him rather than any weedy, greyhound stock."</p> + +<p>"And you'd be a good judge," Dorgan agreed, regarding Chetwood with more +respect. Chief blew noisily, shaking his head and rubbing his nose +against the feed-box. "How long's he been actin' that way, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe an hour. I thought it might be a fly or a bit of foxtail in his +feed."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of foxtail in his hay or beddin'. Might be a fly. Hold the +lantern a minute."</p> + +<p>He passed his hand over Chief's muzzle, and the horse thrust against his +body, twisting and shaking his head. Dorgan examined his ears.</p> + +<p>"Seems all right. What's worryin' you, old boy?"</p> + +<p>The horse nosed him again, and exhaled a deep breath. Chetwood uttered +an exclamation.</p> + +<p>"How was his wind to-day when you exercised him?"</p> + +<p>"Wind? Good. Why?"</p> + +<p>"No cold—no stoppage of the nostrils?"</p> + +<p>"No. What you gettin' at?"</p> + +<p>"Listen to his breathing. There's something about it—not clear—a +little, straining wheeze——"</p> + +<p>Eyes narrowing, vibrant with quick suspicion, Dorgan took the horse's +head on his shoulder and leaned his ear to the nostrils, listening +intently. Suddenly he swore, a single, tremendous expletive, deep with +venom, turning on Rennie.</p> + +<p>"Did you go to see that fight you was speakin' of?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. But I wasn't away five minutes."</p> + +<p>"Was the horse uneasy before that?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't notice it till I come back," Rennie admitted, and Dorgan swore +again.</p> + +<p>"They got to us somehow. Wait now. Hold still, Chief. So—o, lad! Quiet, +boy!" Gently he laid his face against the muzzle. "By——, it's +sponges!" he exclaimed suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Sponges?" Angus repeated, puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Sure—sponges! One of the bloody, dirtiest, meanest, surest-fire tricks +in the whole box. A little, soft sponge shot up each nostril. A horse +can't blow 'em out. He can breathe all right when he's quiet, but when +he starts to run he can't get wind enough through 'em to feed his lungs, +and they choke him off. It don't take a minute to work the trick on a +quiet horse. It can be put over five minutes or a day before a race. A +rider can do his best and get no speed. A crooked owner can fix his own +horse and tell his boy to ride to win. That's what somebody's put over +on us, and I'll gamble on it. Dave, fetch me my little black bag."</p> + +<p>The bag contained a kit of veterinary instruments, and from them Dorgan +selected a pair of long, slender forceps. But Chief objected and had to +be thrown. Angus sat on his head while Dorgan worked. In the end he got +the sponges, and Chief released, struggled up snorting, but apparently +relieved and glad to be able to fill his lungs full once more.</p> + +<p>"And a devil of a note a night before a race!" Dorgan commented. "Some +horses it would put clean up in the air. But I'll bet Chief will fix +this French bunch now, in spite of their dirty work."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think they did it?"</p> + +<p>"Ain't they givin' even money against the field? That means they think +they got us fixed. That big stiff that tried to beat me up to-night +would have fixed me if he could. They framed that fight to get Dave away +from here. Well, there's no use makin' a roar, because we got nothin' on +them. We're lucky to get wise." He nodded to Chetwood. "I dunno's we +would if it hadn't been for you. I didn't think you knew a thing about +the game, but I guess you do."</p> + +<p>"Even if I am a pilgrim?" Chetwood laughed. "But you know we have +horses and a few races in England."</p> + +<p>"The smoothest crook I ever come across in the racin' game was an +Englishman," Dorgan admitted generously.</p> + +<p>Chetwood laughed at this ambiguous testimonial, and Angus liked him the +better for it. Leaving Dorgan and Rennie to look after the horse, they +took their townward way. The darkness seemed more intense. They stumbled +on the deeply-rutted road.</p> + +<p>"We should have borrowed a lantern," Chetwood observed. "The bally trees +make it black as the devil. I think—Look out, Mackay! 'Ware foot-pads!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke a dry stick cracked sharply. Angus whirled to his right. +Three black figures were almost on top of them. He had no time to dodge +or brace himself. An arm swung around his neck, and he got his chin down +just in time. He grasped the arm, tore it down across his shoulder, and +would no doubt have broken it with the next wrench; but just then +something descended on his head, and he went down unconscious in the +dust of the trail.</p> + +<p>He came back to the world of affairs with a ripple of artistic English +swearing in his ears, and sat up.</p> + +<p>"That you, Chetwood?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Right-o, old chap!" Chetwood replied, in tones of relief. "You've been +in dreamland so long I was afraid the blighters had jolly well bashed in +your coco."</p> + +<p>"What happened?" Angus demanded.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a bit thick to me," the Englishman admitted. "There were +four of the beggars, and three of them went for you while the other gave +me all I could do. They floored you, and then rapped me on the head +with a sandbag, I should say." He felt his cranium tenderly. "Laid us +both out side by side like a pair of blinking babes in the wood. I came +around first, and that's some minutes ago. You're sure you're quite all +right, old man?"</p> + +<p>But struck by a sudden, horrible suspicion, Angus put his hand in his +pocket and gasped.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Matter enough," he replied. "They have rustled all the money I was +holding for Paul Sam and the French boys!"</p> + +<p>"My aunt!" Chetwood ejaculated. "We must have been followed."</p> + +<p>Angus nodded gloomily, cursing his own folly. Why had he been such a +fool to carry nearly twenty-four hundred dollars in his pocket? He had +fully intended to deposit it in the safe, but had neglected to do so. +Now it was gone, and naturally he was responsible.</p> + +<p>"I guess we were," he agreed. "You didn't recognize any of them, of +course?"</p> + +<p>"No. Too dark. I say, Mackay, this is beastly rotten luck."</p> + +<p>"Worse than that for me. I'll have to make good."</p> + +<p>"Yes, 'fraid you will. I say—you'll pardon me, I'm sure—but in the +expressive idiom of the country, will it throw a crimp into you to do +it?"</p> + +<p>"Will it?" Angus replied grimly. "I have no more than three hundred +dollars in the bank, and it keeps me scratching gravel with both feet to +make ends meet on the ranch and pay what I have to pay. It puts me in a +devil of a hole, if you want to know."</p> + +<p>"Hard lines!" Chetwood sympathized. "In the breezy phraseology of the +country, it's sure hell. But buck up, old chap! Let me be your banker."</p> + +<p>"You mean you'll lend me the money?" Angus exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Like a shot."</p> + +<p>"Are you that strong?"</p> + +<p>"Strong?" Chetwood queried.</p> + +<p>"I mean that well fixed financially."</p> + +<p>"Another delightful idiom!" Chetwood laughed. "Must remember it. Well, I +have some money to invest, and this looks like my chance."</p> + +<p>"It looks to me like a mighty poor investment," Angus told him. "I +couldn't pay you for the Lord knows how long."</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't expect you to."</p> + +<p>"No, I can't do it," Angus decided, "though it's mighty white of you, +and I am just as much obliged. I'll get it from somebody who is in the +loaning business."</p> + +<p>"Back your paper, if you like."</p> + +<p>"Nor that either. I will kill my own snakes."</p> + +<p>"Obstinate beggar!" Chetwood commented. "Highland blood, and all that +sort of thing." He was silent for a moment. "By George, I've got it!" he +exclaimed. "I know how we'll turn the corner. Simplest thing in the +world. I'll bet the amount you've lost, we win it, and there we are. +Rippin' idea, what!"</p> + +<p>"Suppose we don't win?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be a bally pessimist. It's more than a sportin' chance; it's a +sound declaration. I'll have a go at it."</p> + +<p>Seeing that he was thoroughly in earnest, Angus endeavored to dissuade +him, and at last apparently succeeded.</p> + +<p>"But we'll find some way out," he said. "Never say die. No surrender. +Yard-arm to yard-arm, and keep the ruddy flag flying, Mackay."</p> + +<p>But Angus slept little that night. The problem of raising the money +worried him. He thought he could get it from Mr. Braden, but he was not +sure. And what worried him just as much was that eventually it must come +out of the ranch. His carelessness had saddled it with a fresh load of +debt. Then there was Jean. Whatever happened, her education must not be +interrupted, her way must be paid. He would see to that if he had to +sell every head of stock on the range. The first pale dawn was rousing +the birds to sleepy twitterings when he finally forgot his problems in +troubled slumber.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE RACE</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Braden regarded Angus Mackay severely across his desk. "Tut, tut, +tut!" he said. "A very bad business, indeed. Bad company. Evil +communications, horse racing, gambling. Very bad!"</p> + +<p>"But all I did was to hold the stakes," Angus protested.</p> + +<p>"That was just what you didn't do," Mr. Braden pointed out. "It is a +large sum."</p> + +<p>"I know that, but I have to have it. I am good for the money. Chetwood +offered to lend it to me or endorse my note, but——"</p> + +<p>"Chetwood, hey?" said Mr. Braden with sudden interest. "Why should he do +that?"</p> + +<p>"No reason at all. That's why I wouldn't let him."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what he is going to do in this country?"</p> + +<p>"He spoke of ranching."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" said Mr. Braden. "Has he bought any land yet?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so."</p> + +<p>"He should be careful," said Mr. Braden. "He should go to some reliable +person. Too many irresponsible dealers. He might get—er—stung. I have +some very attractive propositions. Did he mention any amount that he was +prepared to invest?"</p> + +<p>"No. He's going to look around before he buys."</p> + +<p>"Glad to show him around," said Mr. Braden heartily. "Bring him to me, +Angus, and he won't regret it. Neither—er—neither will you."</p> + +<p>"How about lending me this money?" Angus asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh—ah—yes, the money. H'm. Well, under the circumstances I will +advance it on your note. Not business, but to help <i>you</i> out——Well, +don't forget about Chetwood. Bring him in. He might get into wrong +hands, you know. Bring him in, my boy, and you won't regret it."</p> + +<p>With the settlement of the money question Angus was greatly relieved. He +was saddled with an additional debt, but at least he was in a position +to pay the winner, which as he looked at it was the main thing.</p> + +<p>With Jean he went out to the track early in the afternoon. Here and +there in the crowd he noted the tall figures of the French brothers. +Apparently, they were still taking all the money they could get. On +their way to the stand to secure seats, they came upon Chetwood, who was +eying the motley crowd whose costumes ranged from blankets to Bond +Street coats, with pure delight. But being introduced to Jean, the young +Englishman lost all interest in the crowd, and accompanied them. +Kathleen French waved greeting to them, and they found seats beside her. +It appeared that she had met Chetwood.</p> + +<p>"Well, Angus, do you want any Flambeau money?" she laughed.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't bet much, if I were you," he advised her seriously.</p> + +<p>"I will bet every dollar I can. That's what the boys are doing, and +they're good judges of a horse."</p> + +<p>"I think Dorgan is a better one."</p> + +<p>"What does he know about Flambeau?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He seems to be satisfied with knowing Chief."</p> + +<p>A little line came between Kathleen's eyes, but she shook her head. +"Flambeau carries all the money we can get up."</p> + +<p>Angus having given her his advice said no more, and went to have a final +look at Chief.</p> + +<p>"I've had Dave bet my roll for me," Dorgan told him. "I ain't a regular +rider no more, and I need the money. Barring accidents, Chief wins +handy."</p> + +<p>"The Frenches are just as sure of Flambeau."</p> + +<p>"Yeh," Dorgan replied calmly. "I just seen the boy burglar that's ridin' +for 'em. There's tracks he couldn't work on, but I ain't makin' no kick. +If he puts anything over on me, it'll be new stuff. But I guess they +figure they got the race won in the stable."</p> + +<p>When Flambeau came on the track, Angus admitted to himself that he +justified Kathleen's confidence. Knowing quite well what he had to do, +the horse was eager. Up on his withers crouched a hard-faced boy in +maroon and silver, who eyed the other horses and riders with cool +contempt.</p> + +<p>But Chief was being led through the gate, and up on his back flashed +Dorgan's old black-and-yellow silk. The big horse stepped forward, +looking at track and crowd with surprised and inquiring but quite calm +eyes. Dorgan patted his neck and spoke to him, and he came past the +stand in the long, singing, stretching canter which was deceptive by its +very ease. Angus looked at Kathleen.</p> + +<p>"He's a grand horse!" she admitted, and once more the little line lay +between her eyes.</p> + +<p>It became evident at the start that it was a fight between Dorgan and +French's boy. Neither would concede the slightest advantage. Both were +warned. As they wheeled back, after half a dozen abortive starts, +French's boy was spitting insults from the corner of his mouth, and old +Dorgan was grinning at him. Side by side, watching each other like +boxers, they wheeled and came down on the line. Crouched, arms extended, +the harried starter caught the bunch fair at last.</p> + +<p>"G'wan!" he yelled as his flag swept. "G'wan outa here!" And the dust of +the flurrying hoofs hid him.</p> + +<p>At the turn Flambeau was running third, and slightly behind and a little +wide and thus out of a possible danger zone, was the black and yellow. +But in the stretch on the first round Flambeau had drawn level with the +leading horse. As they swept past the stand, Chief, still behind and +well out, was running like a machine. Dorgan turned his face, twisted in +a grin, up to the stand.</p> + +<p>"By George, the old boy thinks he has the race on toast!" Chetwood +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"He can't catch Flambeau now!" Kathleen asserted.</p> + +<p>But to Angus came the recollection of a piece of the old jockey's +wisdom.</p> + +<p>"Not every jock that knows pace is a good jock," he had said; "but no +jock is a good jock that don't. If you know pace and know you're makin' +the time, you don't need to worry. Your leaders will come back to you. I +never was no star rider, but pace is one thing I do know."</p> + +<p>At the turn it was plainly a fight between the two horses. Angus saw +French's boy turn his head, and then sit down to ride. Dorgan was +motionless, lying flat, but the gap began to close. Angus glanced at +Kathleen. She was leaning forward, tense, eager, her lips drawn +straight, the color pinched from them. When he looked at the horses +again Chief's head was lapping Flambeau. French's boy went to his bat. +It rose and fell. At the same moment Dorgan seemed to sink into and +become part of his horse's neck.</p> + +<p>For an instant they seemed to be running together. Then steadily, +surely, inch by inch the black and yellow crept past the maroon and +silver, and the chestnut head appeared in front of the bay. Into the +stretch they came, French's boy riding it out and fighting it out to the +last inch with Flambeau game to the core under terrific punishment. But +as they thundered past the stand Dorgan, his ear hugging Chief's neck, +was looking back beneath his arm, and there was clear daylight between +the horses.</p> + +<p>Once more Angus glanced at Kathleen. She smiled as she met his eye.</p> + +<p>"Well, you were right," she said.</p> + +<p>"I hope you didn't lose much."</p> + +<p>"We—I lost—plenty, thanks. Anyway, I'm proud of Flambeau. He was +outrun, but he ran game to the last foot."</p> + +<p>With Chetwood, Angus went to see Dorgan. On the way they came upon Gavin +and Gerald French. The latter was tearing up a bunch of tickets. At +sight of them he laughed, tossing the fragments aloft.</p> + +<p>"Good paper—once," he observed. "Give you a check to-night, Chetwood."</p> + +<p>"Give you mine, too," said Gavin, lighting his pipe. "Good race, wasn't +it?"</p> + +<p>"Rippin'," Chetwood agreed. "No hurry about settlements, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we may as well clean up," Gerald returned carelessly. "See you +later."</p> + +<p>"So you did bet," Angus observed to his companion as they moved on.</p> + +<p>"I told you it was a sound scheme to get back what you lost. I was jolly +right, too. The money is quite at your service if you need it."</p> + +<p>"I've raised the money, thanks all the same."</p> + +<p>"In the quaint idiom of the country, far be it from me to horn in, but +if I'm not impertinent, how did you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Borrowed it on my note."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my sacred aunt!" Chetwood groaned. "Now listen to reason, old chap. +Here's this money, just the same as if I'd found what you lost. Take it +and——"</p> + +<p>"Cut it out!" Angus interrupted. "That doesn't go."</p> + +<p>"What an obstinate beggar you are!" Chetwood observed in disappointment. +"Well, we'll say no more about it, then. Do you know, I fancy the +Frenches have come rather a cropper to-day. Of course, I don't know +anything of their finances, but they were doing some dashed heavy +betting. I fancied Miss French was hard hit."</p> + +<p>"So did I," Angus agreed.</p> + +<p>"Stood up to it like a major," Chetwood nodded. "Like to see 'em game."</p> + +<p>They found Dorgan and Rennie rubbing and sponging the big horse, fussing +over him like two hens with one chick.</p> + +<p>"Well, I win me a whole barrel of kale," Dorgan chuckled. "I'll bet them +Frenches will find her a hard winter unless they're well fixed." He eyed +the big chestnut contemplatively for a moment. "And yet, mind you, he +ain't a racin' horse," he said, "and don't you never fool yourself that +he is. He can run now, and he'll always run as long as an eight-day +clock, because he's got the works. But he's a weight carrier, that's +what he is. He's a white man's horse, and I hate like poison to see him +go back to them Lo's. Why don't you buy him? He'd carry your weight, and +you'd be ridin' a real horse."</p> + +<p>"I haven't the money," Angus replied regretfully, for in his heart he +had coveted Chief from the time he had first mounted him.</p> + +<p>Later, when he had handed over his winnings to Paul Sam, Angus drove +homeward with Jean. The day had been fine, but in the west a blue-black +sky, tinged with copper, bore promise of storm. He sent the team along +at a lively clip to reach home before it should break.</p> + +<p>He reflected that it had been a most expensive race for him. He did not +know when he would be able to repay the money he had borrowed. But his +crops were looking well, and his grain was almost ready to cut. His hay +was already in. This year he could pay interest on Braden's mortgage. +Jean would require more money. She was going to take a special, +qualifying course, after which she would be able to teach. But he rather +hoped she would not. Undoubtedly, she livened up the ranch.</p> + +<p>Recently Jean had developed. She had grown not only physically but +mentally. She was, Angus realized, a young woman. He had heard Chetwood +ask permission to call at the ranch.</p> + +<p>"How do you like this Chetwood?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Where did you meet him?" Miss Jean countered.</p> + +<p>"With a couple of the French boys."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Miss Jean, who was under no delusions as to the boys +aforesaid, "then he's apt to need his remittances."</p> + +<p>"He seems a decent chap," her brother observed.</p> + +<p>"He may be," Miss Jean returned nonchalantly, "but I'm not strong for +these remittance men."</p> + +<p>But the black cloud was mounting higher and higher. A gust of cold wind +struck their faces. The dust of the trail rose in clouds, and behind it +they heard the roar of the wind. Beyond that again, as they topped a +rise and obtained a view, a gray veil, dense, opaque, seemed to have +been let down.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid we can't make the ranch without a wetting," Angus said.</p> + +<p>"And my best duds, too!" Jean groaned.</p> + +<p>A quarter of a mile ahead there was the wreck of an abandoned shack +which might suffice to keep Jean dry, and Angus sent his team into their +collars; but they had not covered half the distance when with a hissing +rush the gray barrier was upon them. And it was not rain, but hail!</p> + +<p>The stones varied in size from that of buckshot to robin's eggs. Under +the bombardment the dust puffed from the trail. The horses leaped and +swerved at the pelting punishment, refusing to face it.</p> + +<p>"Throw the lap-robe over your head," Angus told Jean, and thereafter was +occupied exclusively with his team.</p> + +<p>The colts swung around, cramping the wheel, almost upsetting the rig. +Angus avoided a capsize by a liberal use of the whip, but with the +punishment and the sting and batter of the icy pellets the animals were +frantic. They began to run.</p> + +<p>Not being able to help it, Angus let them go, having confidence in his +harness and rig. Just there the road was good, without steep grades or +sharp turns. He let them run for half a mile under a steady pull, and +then after reminding them of their duty by the whip, he began to saw +them down. Inside a few hundred yards he had them under control, and +pulled them, quivering and all a-jump, under the shelter of two giant, +bushy firs.</p> + +<p>There Jean, peeping from beneath the robe, saw her brother by the colts' +heads.</p> + +<p>"Thanks for the ride!" she observed with mild sarcasm. Angus stiffened +arm and body against a sudden lunge.</p> + +<p>"Stand still, you!" he commanded, "or I'll club you till you'll be glad +to!" And to Jean: "They wouldn't face it, and I don't blame them. I +thought we were over once."</p> + +<p>"Some hail!" Jean commented. "I never saw anything like it."</p> + +<p>But already the storm was passing. Came a tail-end spatter of rain, and +the sky began to clear. But as he wheeled his team out from shelter +Angus' face was very grave, and a sudden thought struck his sister.</p> + +<p>"Why," she exclaimed, her brown eyes opening wide, "do you suppose that +hail struck the ranch?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he replied, "but if it did, there won't be any threshing +this year. It was bad."</p> + +<p>As they drove on there was evidence of that. The grass was beaten flat, +bushes were stripped of leaves. They passed the body of a young grouse +which, caught in the open and confused, had been pelted to death. It was +without doubt very bad hail.</p> + +<p>When they came in sight of the ranch, Jean, unable to restrain her +impatience, rose to her feet and, holding her brother's shoulder, took a +long look. He felt her hand tighten, gripping him hard. Then she dropped +back into the seat beside him.</p> + +<p>"It—it hit us!" she said.</p> + +<p>In a few moments Angus could see for himself. The fields of grain which, +as they had driven away that morning, had rippled in the fresh wind, +nodding full, heavy heads to the blue sky, were beaten flat. The heads +themselves were threshed by the icy flail of the storm. He knew as he +looked at the flattened ruin that there would be no threshing. He was +"hailed out"!</p> + +<p>Though the event assumed the proportions of a disaster, Angus said not a +word. His black brows drew down and his mouth set hard. That was all. He +felt Jean's arm go beneath his and press it.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, old boy!" she said. "We needed the money, didn't we!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, it can't be helped," she said. "I'll stay home this winter, +of course. I can do that much to help, anyway."</p> + +<p>"You will do nothing of the sort," her brother declared.</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"I will find the money. You will finish what you have begun, and that is +all there is to it."</p> + +<p>"I won't——"</p> + +<p>"You <i>will</i>!" Angus said in a voice his sister had never heard before. +"I say you will. You have a right to your education, and you shall have +it. If I cannot give it to you, I am no man at all!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>MAINLY ABOUT CHETWOOD</h3> + + +<p>When Angus came to investigate the damage wrought by the hail, he found +it very complete. There would be no grain to thresh. It turned out that +his had been the only ranch to suffer, the swath of the storm having +missed his neighbors. It seemed the climax of the bad luck which had +attended that twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p>Jean, when she saw that her brother was absolutely determined that she +should have another year of study, gave in, knowing nothing of the money +he had borrowed. In the fortnight that elapsed before her departure, she +was very busy, not only with her own preparations, but with preserving, +pickling and mending for the ranch.</p> + +<p>During this time Chetwood was an intermittent visitor. On these visits +most of his time was spent in Jean's vicinity. Thus, on the eve of her +departure, when she was very busy with a final batch of preserves, he +appeared in the door. In his eyes, Jean, uniformed in a voluminous blue +apron, her face flushed and her strong young arms bare, made a very +charming picture. But Jean did not know that. She was extremely hot and +somewhat sticky, and believed herself to be untidy. She felt all the +discomfort and none of the dignity of labor. Hence her greeting was not +cordial.</p> + +<p>"I haven't time to stop," she said, indicating preserving kettle and +jars with a wave of a dripping ladle. "You had better go and find the +boys."</p> + +<p>"Please let me stay. I like to watch you."</p> + +<p>"I don't like being watched. You can't find much amusement in watching +me work."</p> + +<p>"Very jolly thing, work," Chetwood observed gravely.</p> + +<p>"Bosh!" Miss Jean returned. She eyed her guest with pardonable +irritation. "What do you know about work?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Why—er—not a great deal, I'm afraid," he admitted.</p> + +<p>"Then don't talk nonsense."</p> + +<p>"But it isn't nonsense. I mean to say work keeps one occupied, you +know."</p> + +<p>"I notice it keeps me occupied," Miss Jean retorted, still more +irritated by this profound observation.</p> + +<p>"I mean one gets tired of doing nothing."</p> + +<p>"Then why doesn't one do something?" she snapped.</p> + +<p>Chetwood regarded her whimsically. "I'm afraid you mean me."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Miss Jean, "I would like to see you busy at something, +instead of looking so blessed cool and—and lazy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say!"</p> + +<p>"A man who doesn't work in this country," Jean stated severely, "is out +of place."</p> + +<p>"But a man who is out of a place doesn't work, does he?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not joking," Miss Jean said with dignity. "I believe in work for +everybody."</p> + +<p>"So do I. Admire it immensely, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"Bah!" Miss Jean ejaculated. "I don't believe you could do a day's work +on a bet. You're like all the rest of—of——"</p> + +<p>"Go on," Chetwood encouraged as she came to a stop in some confusion.</p> + +<p>"Well, I will," said Miss Jean with sudden determination. "You're like +all the rest of the remittance men. That's what I was going to say."</p> + +<p>"One would gather that your opinion of what you call 'remittance men,' +is not high."</p> + +<p>"High!" Miss Jean's tone expressed much.</p> + +<p>"H'm! Wasters, rotters, what?"</p> + +<p>"And then some."</p> + +<p>"And I'm like them, you think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I didn't mean just that," Miss Jean admitted under +cross-examination. "But you <i>don't</i> work, you know."</p> + +<p>"Would you like me to work?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I care whether you work or not?"</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> strange," Chetwood murmured.</p> + +<p>"I <i>don't</i>!" snapped Miss Jean. "I don't care a—a darn! But I'll bet +when I come back in the spring, if you're here you'll be doing just what +you're doing now."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry you're going away. I thought if we were better acquainted we +should be rather pals."</p> + +<p>"We might be," Miss Jean admitted, "but we have our work to do—at least +I have."</p> + +<p>"I see plainly," said Chetwood, "that this demon of work will get me +yet."</p> + +<p>"Well, it won't hurt you a little bit," Miss Jean told him, and +thereafter gave her exclusive attention to her preserving.</p> + +<p>With the going of Jean, Angus buckled down in earnest. The next year +must make up for his loss, and with this in view he began to clear more +land. He threw himself into the labor, matching his strength and +endurance against the tasks and the time. He worked his teams as +mercilessly as he worked himself, and for the first time he began to +drive others.</p> + +<p>But to this speeding-up Turkey did not take kindly. By nature he was +impatient of steady work, of control, of all discipline. He craved +motion, excitement. He would ride from daylight to dark in any sort of +weather rounding up stock, and enjoy himself thoroughly, but half a day +behind a plow would send him into the sulks. He had broken a fine, young +blue mare for his own use, and he took to being out at night, coming in +late. He never told Angus where he went, but though the latter asked no +questions the youngster could feel his disapproval. But as he possessed +a vein of obstinacy and contrariness, this merely confirmed him in his +course.</p> + +<p>Angus maintained grim silence, repressing a strong desire to speak his +mind. He recognized that the boy was becoming increasingly impatient of +his authority, and desired to avoid a clash. As he let things go, Turkey +took more and more rope. Angus learned accidentally that he consorted +with a number of men older than himself, of whom Garland and Blake +French were leading spirits. He knew that this was no company for the +boy, but as reference to it would inevitably lead to unpleasantness, he +put it off. But Turkey's deliberate slacking of work, just when it was +most necessary, got on his nerves to an extent greater than he knew.</p> + +<p>It was necessary to explain to Mr. Braden that he was unable to meet the +mortgage payments. To his relief, the mortgagee made no difficulty about +it. Indeed he was most genial.</p> + +<p>"I heard you had been hit by the hail," he said. "Well, well, these +things will happen, and I am not a harsh creditor. I will carry you +along."</p> + +<p>"That's very good of you," Angus acknowledged. "I am doing considerable +breaking, and next year, if I don't bump into more hard luck, I'll be +able to make a good payment."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden nodded. "Meanwhile there is something you can do for me. I am +selling a piece of land to young Chetwood—about five hundred acres—but +before closing the deal he wants your opinion of it."</p> + +<p>Angus had not seen Chetwood for nearly a fortnight. He had not +introduced him to Mr. Braden, but it appeared that they had become +acquainted otherwise.</p> + +<p>"Do I know the land?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I think so. It's about five miles from your ranch, on Canon Creek. +There is a little cleared, and an old shack, but otherwise it is mostly +unimproved. A splendid opportunity for an energetic young man to build +up an excellent ranch."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean the old Tetreau place?" This was a piece of land long since +abandoned by a man of that name.</p> + +<p>"Why—er—yes, I believe that is what it is called," Mr. Braden replied. +"It's good, level land—most of it. I am offering it at a very low +figure—all things considered—twenty dollars."</p> + +<p>"And I particularly want this deal to go through," he concluded. "I +should not mind paying you a little commission, my boy—say five per +cent.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't take a commission from you for valuing land for a buyer."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Done every day. I might—er—stretch it a little. You are not +to worry about that note of yours and the mortgage money, my boy. One +good turn deserves another, hey?"</p> + +<p>"I know the place," Angus said, "but I never thought of putting a value +on it. How about water?"</p> + +<p>"Tetreau had a record of eight hundred inches on Canon Creek. That goes +with the place. And there's a good spring creek."</p> + +<p>"That little spring wouldn't irrigate more than a few acres," Angus +objected. "Seems to me I heard the old man quit because he couldn't +bring water from the main creek."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden frowned. "Nonsense! Plenty of water. Tetreau was too lazy to +run a ditch, that's all. Lots of water. Never mind that. The main thing +is the land, which is good. I'll depend on you for a good report, and +I'll tell Chetwood to run out and see you."</p> + +<p>Angus rode home, none too well pleased with the prospect. He could just +remember Felix Tetreau, a stooped old Frenchman, and he had a vague +recollection that the latter had given up the place after a vain attempt +to make water run up hill. But it was possible that he had been wrong in +his levels, or, as Mr. Braden had suggested, too lazy to put in a ditch. +Anyway, he had gone years before, and it appeared that Mr. Braden who +owned a big block of land in that vicinity, had acquired his holding. +The clearing had grown back to wild, which as there had not been much of +it, mattered the less. But the question of water mattered a great deal.</p> + +<p>For in that district water was a <i>sine qua non</i>. Angus was no victim of +the dry-farming delusion. Water and plenty of it, was essential in most +years to grow paying crops. Therefore the value of the land, no matter +what the quality of the soil, was conditional upon whether water could +be brought upon it. It was that question which, in spite of Mr. Braden's +airy dismissal, must be investigated in justice to Chetwood. Therefore +when the latter came to the ranch, Angus took with them a hand level.</p> + +<p>The land in question lay close to the foothills, and back of it a small, +round mountain rose, but this was evidently not part of the parcel. The +soil was a dark, sandy loam, which would give good result if properly +fed, watered and cultivated. Angus pointed out these facts to the +prospective buyer.</p> + +<p>"Then you think it a good investment?" Chetwood queried.</p> + +<p>"I did not say just that," Angus replied. "You have to add the cost of +clearing to your purchase price. Then there will be your buildings and +fencing and ditches. You have to figure on raising enough to pay +interest on your total investment, and wages as well."</p> + +<p>"I meant to ask you about the price. Is it fair, or shall I jew old +Braden down a bit? Fancy I could, you know."</p> + +<p>"The price is high—as land sells," Angus told him. "You can get good, +wild land now for ten dollars an acre. Five years ago you could have got +it for two dollars, and five years before that for fifty cents."</p> + +<p>Chetwood whistled. "In the noble language of the country, I was about to +be stung."</p> + +<p>"Well," Angus explained, "if land values keep climbing, it might be a +good investment, after all. I would not say it might not be. But you can +buy just as good land cheaper."</p> + +<p>"Then why does Braden ask so much?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he thinks he can get it."</p> + +<p>Chetwood grinned. "In the terse vernacular of the land, 'I get you, +Steve.' Shall I offer him ten dollars?"</p> + +<p>"That would depend on the water supply."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's absolutely all right. I've seen the government certificate. +Eight hundred miners' inches. That's ample, what?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—if you can get it on the land."</p> + +<p>"But surely that sort of thing was looked into long ago, when the record +was made."</p> + +<p>Angus shook his head. "A water record isn't a guarantee of water. It's +merely a right to take it if you can get it. Water is one thing you +can't take for granted. We have time to run a line to the creek, and see +where we come out. As for the spring here, it wouldn't water more than +ten acres or so."</p> + +<p>There is nothing more deceptive, even to the trained eye, than levels in +a broken country. The unaided eye can tell nothing about them. To all +appearances, in many places, water runs up hill. Nothing but the level +can prove whether it can be brought upon any given area.</p> + +<p>Starting from the upper end of the block they began to take sights. The +distance to the creek was further than Angus had supposed. They ran into +a broken country where the ground was rocky and less adapted to +ditching. There were sidehills, which are dangerous because they have an +annoying habit of sliding when water-soaked, and gulches which would +necessitate fluming. All the time they drew nearer and nearer to the +base of the round mountain. Unless the line could run around the lower +foot of it the way was barred to water. And finally the line ran into +the base of the hill. There was no going around it. It definitely +settled the question of water. The land, then, was non-irrigable.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if that old blighter, Braden, knew this?" Chetwood speculated.</p> + +<p>"He might not," Angus replied, though he had his own ideas on the +subject.</p> + +<p>"And then again he might," Chetwood grinned. "<i>Caveat emptor</i>, and all +that sort of thing. I'm awfully obliged to you, you know."</p> + +<p>"That is all right."</p> + +<p>"Left to myself I might have bought." He hesitated. "I wish there were +some way for me to show my appreciation."</p> + +<p>"Any one who knew the country would have told you the same thing."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that. For instance, there is a rancher named +Poole—know him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Angus returned, for Poole to whom Braden had once purposed +renting the Mackay ranch, had now some sort of place on the other side +of town.</p> + +<p>"Well, friend Braden, when I spoke of getting the opinion of some +practical rancher, suggested Poole. Took a look at Poole, and thought +I'd rather have you. Braden didn't seem to take kindly to my +counter-suggestion, which naturally confirmed me in it. It's a sound +system to play the game your opponent doesn't like. I'll tell the old +blighter you didn't recommend the buy."</p> + +<p>"That will be the truth."</p> + +<p>Chetwood glanced at him keenly.</p> + +<p>"I say," he exclaimed, "I don't wish to seem impertinent, but is there +any personal reason why I should let Braden suppose I am doing this on +my own?"</p> + +<p>Angus hesitated. "I owe him more money than I can pay just now," he +said, "but you may tell him what you like."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thunder!" Chetwood ejaculated. "I'm afraid I've let you in for +something. I'll say we never mentioned water, and quite on my own I'll +tell him I must have an engineer's report on that."</p> + +<p>But perhaps Chetwood did not tell his story convincingly. Or perhaps Mr. +Braden was too old a bird. At any rate, when he next saw Angus he asked +him what he had told Chetwood. Angus replied bluntly. Whereupon, Mr. +Braden in high indignation accused him of blocking the sale.</p> + +<p>"I merely told him what is so," Angus said.</p> + +<p>"You brought up the water question yourself."</p> + +<p>"Land is no good without water. You know that as well as I do."</p> + +<p>"I don't admit that water can't be got on this land. Now, see here, I'm +going to have a surveyor run the line of a ditch, and I want you to tell +Chetwood you were mistaken in your levels. Understand?"</p> + +<p>"If you can show me I'm mistaken, I'll be glad to tell him. But I'm +certain of them. I've checked them up since."</p> + +<p>"Dammit!" Mr. Braden exploded angrily, "do you know I hold a mortgage on +your ranch? Do you know I hold your note? Hey?"</p> + +<p>Angus stared at him for a moment, his black brows drawing down, his eyes +narrowing. "And what has that got to do with the levels of this land?" +he asked with disconcerting directness.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Braden shirked the show-down.</p> + +<p>"Do with it, do with it!" he sputtered. "Oh, not a thing, not a damned +thing, of course. You were my agent to conclude this sale, and you threw +me down."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't your agent. I was acting for Chetwood."</p> + +<p>"You were to get a commission from me."</p> + +<p>"I told you I couldn't take one."</p> + +<p>"Well, you won't get one," Mr. Braden snapped. "Levels! What do you know +about levels? I'll get somebody that does."</p> + +<p>But for some reason Mr. Braden did not do so.</p> + +<p>It was nearly a week after this interview, that old Paul Sam rode up on +his paint pony, leading Chief.</p> + +<p>"Me sell um cooley kuitan," he announced.</p> + +<p>"Who bought him?" Angus asked. For answer the old Indian drew forth from +the recesses of his garment a slip of paper, which he handed to Angus. +The latter read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Mackay: I want you to let me have the pleasure of +presenting a good horse with a good owner. This, not by way of +payment for the service you did me, but in token of my +appreciation of kindness to a pilgrim and a stranger here. Am +leaving for a few weeks, and will look you up on my return. +Faithfully,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">E. W. F. Chetwood</span>.</p> + +<p>"P. S.—Don't be a bally ass. Keep the horse."</p></blockquote> + +<p>From this surprising letter Angus lifted his eyes to the big chestnut. +As he did so he realized that he had wanted him very badly. He took the +lead rope from the old Indian.</p> + +<p>"All right, Paul Sam," he said. "Thanks for bringing him over. Put your +cayuse in the stable and come up to the house and have some muckamuck."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>A FIGHT WITH A GRIZZLY</h3> + + +<p>Now, though Angus was working hard under pressure, the hard part of it +was not the work but the things he wanted to do and could not. Though he +plugged away steadily at his tasks, his thoughts were not of them, but +of lonely trails, and steep hills, and deep timber, and the surging +waters tumbling down in nameless creeks from hoary old glaciers; and he +would have given all he owned if he could with a clear conscience have +quit the ranch work and taken a holiday. But as he could not, he worked +on grimly.</p> + +<p>Occasionally, however, he rode the range after stock, and on these +occasions he carried a rifle, on the chance of getting a shot at a deer. +Invariably now he rode Chief, who was becoming a most dependable saddle +horse. And so one bright fall morning he rode along the foothills to +find, if he could, a small bunch of cattle which he himself had not seen +since Spring.</p> + +<p>Shortly after mid-day he found himself near the site of an old logging +camp, where several creeks united to form a muskeg, and at the foot of +it a little lake. Out of the lake a larger creek ran, and across it +stood the old camp buildings, now worn and weatherbeaten and roofless. +The banks were steeply cut and the old pole bridge was rotten. Therefore +Angus put Chief on a rope where the grazing was good, and taking his +lunch and rifle, crossed the creek, intending to eat beside an excellent +spring which was better than the creek water.</p> + +<p>He leaned his rifle against one end of the ancient bunkhouse, went the +length of it, turned the corner, and came full upon a huge, old-man +grizzly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus1" id="illus1"></a> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3> <i>He turned the corner, and came full upon a huge, old-man +grizzly.</i></h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>The bear had been digging at a rotten stump, which strewed the ground in +fragments, and the brawl of the creek had drowned whatever noise Angus +had made. Thus it was a case of mutual surprise. As Angus turned the +corner the bear's senses brought him warning. He turned his great, flat +head, and at sight of the intruder his mane roached and bristled, and he +swung about with unbelievable quickness. Being more or less penned by +the wall of the eating camp and an old pole fence, he probably believed +himself cornered. He half rose, with a snort, and his fierce, little +eyes lit with a green flare.</p> + +<p>Angus had had no first-hand experience with grizzlies, though he had +seen them at a distance. Nevertheless, he knew a good deal about them +from men who had, and his information amounted to this: The ordinary +grizzly will run if he can; but if he is wounded or believes himself +cornered, there is no telling just what he will do. Also there are "bad" +bears, just as there are "bad" bulls or stallions.</p> + +<p>The bear was a complete surprise to Angus. He was so close that he could +almost smell him, could see the little pieces of rotten, wet wood and +slaver on his jaws, the red of his mouth and the white of his tusks all +speckled with dirt from his grubbing. For a moment his heart almost +stopped beating, his hair prickled, and stood on end, and his knees +knocked together. For an instant he stood frozen in his tracks, and then +as he saw the great brown bulk gather itself he came to life and action. +With an involuntary yell he leaped into the air like a scared lynx, +turned and hit the ground running.</p> + +<p>Behind him he heard a short, coughing roar, and it nearly doubled the +stretch of his stride. He made the length of the bunkhouse, turned it +and grabbed for his rifle. But his fingers merely brushed the barrel and +knocked it down. There was no time to pick it up. He doubled the next +corner like a rabbit and after him came the grizzly, with most infernal +persistence.</p> + +<p>For a short distance a grizzly is as fast as a good pony, and all that +had saved Angus was dodging around corners. But that could not go on +indefinitely. The walls of the roofless bunkhouse were of logs, closely +mortised, but inside he knew there were the remains of some old, +double-decked bunks. It was taking a chance, but he ducked through the +door opening, scrambled up on the bunks, the old poles crashing beneath +him, and straddled the top log just in time to escape the swipe of a +steel-garnished paw which actually brushed his leg.</p> + +<p>From this strategic position, rather out of breath and somewhat shaky, +he looked down at the grizzly, and the bear looked up at him, rumbling +and grumbling to himself, his wicked, little eyes burning with unholy +lights. He was a big bear, shaggy and rough, with a sprinkle of gray in +his mane, and there was no doubt that he was annoyed. As a beginning he +knocked a bunk to pieces with one lift and bat of a paw, and rearing he +reached for Angus. Luckily the wall was high, and the big claws raked +bark and slivers below him. Not being able to reach his enemy, the bear +dropped back with a grunt, and stood swinging to and fro gently.</p> + +<p>It occurred to Angus that he might drop over the wall, get his rifle and +call for a show-down, but as he waited to get back some of his breath +and steadiness, meanwhile hitching along the wall to get closer to the +gun, the bear shambled through the door. He trotted around the +bunkhouse, and coming to the rifle sniffed at it and took a wide circle. +Perhaps he knew the smell of steel, and suspected a trap. But after +prowling up and down for a few minutes eying the treed man, he did not +go away, which was quite contrary to what Angus had heard of the habits +of bears under similar circumstances. He lay down like a dog, apparently +prepared to camp there indefinitely.</p> + +<p>From where Angus sat he could see Chief, standing hip-shot and half +asleep, quite unconscious of the bear, and he was glad that the latter +was equally unconscious of the horse, for he seemed full of racial +prejudice against man and his possessions. All Angus could do was wait +it out. An hour passed, and he grew weary of his position, and indignant +at being forced to lie along a log like a lizard by a low-grade +proposition like a bear. He tore off bark and pelted him with it. The +grizzly merely eyed him evilly and sniffed at what he threw; so Angus +gave it up, and more time passed.</p> + +<p>In spite of his position the sun and wind made him sleepy. Perhaps he +dozed. He had seen and heard nothing. But suddenly as he turned his head +he saw a girl a few yards away from the old eating-camp.</p> + +<p>For a moment Angus did not believe his eyes. It seemed one of those +vague visions which flit across the mental retina in that dim shadowland +between wakefulness and slumber. She was looking down into the finder of +a camera, while back of her, reins lying on its neck instead of a-trail, +stood a pony. She was tall and straight, and a crown of hair shone to +the slope of the afternoon's sun, for she was using a pony hat to shield +the camera's lens.</p> + +<p>Angus gaped and blinked, and then he knew it was no dream vision, but +real flesh and blood. Just then she got her picture and took a step or +two in his direction, winding up the film.</p> + +<p>"Hi!" Angus hailed, "don't come here. Get on your pony, quick."</p> + +<p>Being very much in earnest, voice and words were harsh, peremptory. The +girl stopped short and looked around. Then for the first time she saw +him perched on the wall.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon!" she said, her voice carrying clear and full, a +touch of hauteur in her tone answering the harshness of Angus' command. +"I'm not to come there, you say. Why not?" Her chin lifted as she spoke +and she took another step forward.</p> + +<p>"Bear!" Angus returned. "Get back, I tell you. I'm treed by a bad +grizzly. Get on your pony and pull out before he sees you."</p> + +<p>The girl stopped. "Do you mean that?" she demanded incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Do I mean it?" Angus yelled, exasperated by her delay and frightened at +her very real danger. "Get a move on you, woman, if you have any sense! +He hears you now!"</p> + +<p>His tone left no doubt of his sincerity, and the girl, turning, ran +toward her pony. But the animal, not being anchored by the reins, sidled +away at her swift approach.</p> + +<p>"Hurry up!" Angus shouted, for the big savage below him, hearing another +voice, was bristling afresh and suddenly started around the corner of +the building to investigate. Just then the pony either sighted or smelt +the bear, for he snorted, wheeled and broke into a gallop. "Run!" Angus +yelled. "Get behind that eating-camp. Try to climb it, quick!" And not +having time for more words he dropped from his perch, lit sprawling +alongside his rifle, seized it, and jumped around the corner into the +open in the wake of the grizzly, his hand hooked into the lever, while a +long soft-nose snicked home in the chamber.</p> + +<p>The girl, now fully alive to her danger, was running for the corner of +the eating camp, and the grizzly, halfway between, was after her. So +much Angus saw at a glance, and then he caught the lumbering but swift +bulk fair center with the bead, and unhooked.</p> + +<p>With the high-pitched, smacking voice of the rifle mingled the roar of +the wounded grizzly. He went heels over head like a shot rabbit, came on +his feet again facing the gun, took a second bullet as if it had been a +pellet of bird-shot, and coughing out a fighting roar that seemed to +hold all the bestial ferocity of the ages, came for Angus like a furry +tornado.</p> + +<p>There is this about a grizzly which entitles him to respect: When he +charges, he charges home. This fact Angus knew very well. The bear was a +scant forty yards away. Angus caught the center of him with his sights, +and began to pump steadily. His entire attention was concentrated on +holding the sights, and otherwise the gun seemed to shoot itself. +Missing was next to impossible at that range, but so also was choice of +aim. "When anything's comin' for you close up," Rennie had once advised +him, "don't try to hit nowhere's special, but just hold plum' center and +keep shootin'." While Angus did not consciously remember this advice, he +followed it, with a dull wonder that the stream of soft-noses tearing +through the great brute's vitals did not stop him. His last shot was +fired at ten feet, and the hammer clicked down on an empty chamber. As +the brown bulk hurled itself upon him, he lunged the rifle barrel with +all his force into the yawning, white-tusked, red mouth. But as he tried +to leap aside a huge paw blurred for an instant before his eyes and then +blotted out the world. He went down, crushed and smothered as by the +weight of mountains.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>FAITH WINTON TURNS UP</h3> + + +<p>Angus came out of the darkness slowly with the weight still upon him. +There was a strange, salt taste in his mouth and a rank smell in his +nostrils. His head seemed pillowed, but his eyelids were gummed, and +when he threw up his hand to clear them his fingers touched wetness. +Then through a raw, red fog he saw a girl's face bending above him, and +blue eyes that seemed misty as an April sky through showers, though +perhaps it was only his uncertain vision that made them so.</p> + +<p>"Please say something—if you can hear me!" said a low, clear voice as +his senses came back fully.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said. "I'm all right, I guess. What's holding me? What's +on me?"</p> + +<p>As his eyes shifted downward, a huge mound of brown fur rose against +them, hiding the landscape. It was the carcass of the bear which lay +across his legs, burying them from the waist down.</p> + +<p>"I can't move it," the girl told him. "Oh, are you badly hurt? Can you +take a drink of water? I'll lift your head!" She spoke all in a breath, +tremulously, for she had considered him almost a dead man. She lifted +his head from where it lay in her lap, and held an old tin can full of +spring water to his lips.</p> + +<p>Angus drank and felt better.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I'm hurt much," he said. "Where is all the blood coming +from?" He put his hand to his head, touching gingerly a four-inch rip in +his scalp. There was a pain in his side which was worse when he moved, +but he said nothing about that and otherwise he could find nothing +wrong.</p> + +<p>"You must get out from under that brute," the girl told him. "I've tried +to pull it off, and I've tried to pull you out, but I'm not strong +enough."</p> + +<p>She stooped behind him, her hands beneath his shoulders, and he drew his +legs clear of the weight. When he got to his feet he was giddy for a +moment and leaned against her for support. With her assistance he got to +the spring, and washed off the coagulated blood, while she made a +bandage of their handkerchiefs and fitted it deftly. The icy water +cleared away the last of the fog, and save for a growing stiffness and +soreness he felt well enough. He looked at the girl who sat beside him +on the brown grass and wondered who she was and where on earth she had +come from.</p> + +<p>The girl was tall, and clean and graceful as a young pine. She carried +her head well lifted, which Angus considered a good sign in horses and +human beings. A mass of fair hair was coiled low at the base of it and +drawn smoothly back from a broad forehead. Her eyes were a clear blue +which reminded Angus of certain mountain lakes, and yet a little weary +and troubled as if some shadow overcast them. Her smooth cheeks, too, +were pale, with but little of the color that comes from the kiss of wind +and sun. She was an utter stranger to him, and yet there was something +vaguely familiar.</p> + +<p>The fact was that he was staring at her. She met his gaze evenly.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that you are lucky not to be badly hurt?" she said.</p> + +<p>"It would have served me right if I had been."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"For leaving my rifle in the first place, and for rotten shooting in the +second," he replied seriously. "I should have stopped him, and so I +would if I had taken my time about it. I guess I got rattled."</p> + +<p>"Is that your trouble?" she laughed. "The bear is simply riddled with +bullets."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" he returned with obvious pleasure. "Tell me what +happened."</p> + +<p>"I stopped running when you fired the first shot," she said. "You and +the bear seemed to go down together, and he rolled clean over you. It +was only in his last flurry that he threw himself across your legs."</p> + +<p>"Lucky he didn't claw me up in that flurry. He was a tough old boy."</p> + +<p>"If you had been killed it would have been my fault," she said +seriously. "You were quite safe, and you attacked him to save me."</p> + +<p>"I would have come down, anyway, the first chance he gave me to get hold +of my rifle."</p> + +<p>"It was stupid of me," she persisted. "At first, you see, I couldn't +believe there was a bear. I thought you were trying to frighten me. And +then I just <i>couldn't</i> catch that pony. I'm not used to horses, I'm +afraid."</p> + +<p>Now, as she spoke, something in her voice struck a chord in Angus' +recollection. Where had he heard that faint lisp, that slurring of the +sibilants? For a moment he puzzled, groping for an elusive memory. And +then suddenly it leaped at him out of the one day, years before, whose +happenings, even the least of them, he never forgot. And he saw a little +girl, frightened but trying to be brave, and a lanky boy confronting her +with a rifle.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, "you are little Faith Winton!"</p> + +<p>She frowned, drawing herself up a little.</p> + +<p>"I am Faith Winton, but how do you know? Have I ever—" She broke off, +staring at him. "Why, it's impossible. You can't be <i>that</i> boy!"</p> + +<p>"I used to be," he told her. "I've grown a little, since."</p> + +<p>"Angus! Angus Mackay!" she cried, her face lighting swiftly. "Oh, I know +you now. I've never forgotten. And your sister's doughnuts! How good +they were, and how good you were to me!" She leaned forward, catching +his great, brown, work-hardened paws in her slim hands. "Oh, I'm so glad +to see you again, Ang—I mean Mr. Mackay."</p> + +<p>"My name is still Angus."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but that was years ago. How did you recognize me? I was such a +little girl. To think of meeting you again—like this!"</p> + +<p>"I knew you by your lisp," he told her. "And I wish you would call me +'Angus.'"</p> + +<p>"Well—Anguth!" She said it with the old lisp. "I can't help it +sometimes," she confessed. "I struggle and struggle, and then I forget +myself and—lithp. Do you mind it very much?"</p> + +<p>"I like it."</p> + +<p>"Tho nithe of you to thay tho!" she exaggerated laughing. "No, I won't +lisp any more—until I forget myself. But how big you are—almost as big +as Gavin himself."</p> + +<p>"I am big enough," Angus admitted. "I get in my own way sometimes." For +the first time he noticed a black band on her sleeve. She caught the +glance.</p> + +<p>"My father died two months ago." Her voice broke, and Angus looked away.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said awkwardly.</p> + +<p>"I can't talk about it very well yet," she said. "I didn't mean to. One +shouldn't—to a stranger."</p> + +<p>"But I'm not a stranger. You seem like—well—like an old friend."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of that," she said, smiling a trifle sadly. "You see, father +and I were always together, and it's new and—and hard to be alone. But +I suppose I shall get used to it after a while."</p> + +<p>"You have your kin here," he ventured.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have them," she agreed. "But they are not really my kin. And +then I won't be with them very long."</p> + +<p>"You are going away?" For some reason Angus experienced a sensation of +regret.</p> + +<p>"No, I am going to stay here. I am thinking of ranching."</p> + +<p>"Ranching!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about it?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I could learn, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you might. But the work is hard—man's work. I wouldn't buy a +ranch, if I were you."</p> + +<p>"But I have one—or the makings of one. A few years ago Uncle Godfrey +bought nearly a thousand acres for father. I'm afraid there isn't much +of it cleared, and there is no house fit to live in. I had been to look +at it, and was riding back by this old logging camp. That's how I +happened to be here."</p> + +<p>"Where is this land?" Angus asked.</p> + +<p>Her reply gave him almost as much of a shock as he had received from the +bear; for as she described it, the land, or at least part of it, was +none other than the old Tetreau place which Mr. Braden had painstakingly +tried to unload on Chetwood. But if it belonged to her or to her father +how could Braden sell it? And then, again, she had spoken of nearly a +thousand acres, while the old Tetreau place comprised some five hundred +only. Something of his thoughts reflected in his face.</p> + +<p>"Do you know the land?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it," he admitted. "Have you ever thought of selling the +land instead of ranching it? Has any one ever tried to sell it for you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she replied. "I don't want to sell it—yet, a while, anyway. +Father's idea was to hold it till land increased very much in value. +Uncle Godfrey told him that was bound to occur. It was an investment, +you see. It cost only ten dollars an acre."</p> + +<p>"You mean your father paid ten thousand dollars for the land!" Angus +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, in round figures. He never saw it. Uncle Godfrey said it was well +worth that, and of course he knows."</p> + +<p>There was little that Angus could say. He was no stranger to +wild-catting in lands, but he held to the old idea that agricultural +land is worth what it will grow and no more: a maxim which, if +remembered by prospective purchasers, would cut down both sales and +disappointments. But the puzzling thing was that Godfrey French, who +wasn't an easy mark by any means, should have advised his relative to +pay ten dollars an acre for land half of which was too rough to +cultivate and of which all was non-irrigable; and this at a time when +good, wild land was to be had in plenty for from three to five dollars +an acre. Added to that was the abortive Braden-Chetwood deal. The one +clear thing was that Faith Winton had a bunch of worthless land. He +hoped that it did not represent her entire patrimony.</p> + +<p>"You will find it hard work starting a ranch," he said. "Clearing, +breaking, fencing and so on are expensive, too."</p> + +<p>"But whatever I spend will make the place worth that much more, and then +if I wish to sell I would have a better chance. People always prefer to +buy improved properties, I'm told."</p> + +<p>Angus had neither the heart nor the nerve to tell her the truth. +Everything went to show that her father had been deliberately stung by +Godfrey French. Never in the world would he have paid ten dollars of his +own money for such a property. Had he paid ten dollars of Winton's +money? Angus doubted it. In plain language, his thought was that French +had paid about three dollars an acre, and either pocketed the difference +or split it with the seller.</p> + +<p>"What does your uncle think about it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't want me to try ranching. He says the place is increasing in +value anyway, and that I should not be in a hurry to sell."</p> + +<p>Naturally, thought Angus, that would be French's advice. Perhaps he had +had the handling of the property, and Braden had been acting for him +when trying to sell to Chetwood. If that sale had gone through, half the +property would have been sold for what had been paid for the whole, and +the remainder, worthless or not, would have been velvet. But as it was +French was in a tight box, and the only thing he could do was to advise +the girl to let the place alone, and hope that nothing would occur to +arouse her suspicions. Angus half wished for her sake that he had not +blocked the sale to Chetwood.</p> + +<p>"You see," she said, "I have to do something for a living. I haven't +enough to keep me in idleness, and anyway I don't want to be idle. But I +didn't mean to bother you with my worries. I don't know why it is, but +I find myself talking to you just as frankly as when I was the little, +lost girl and you were the big boy. Perhaps I am a little lost, still. +You—you seem comforting, somehow." She considered for a moment. +"Perhaps it's the bigness of you. But I don't talk to Gavin as I do to +you, and I know him much better. Why is it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, but I'm glad of it," Angus told her. "I want to help you +if I can."</p> + +<p>"Now, I believe that's why," she said. "You want to help folks who need +it. That's the secret of it."</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the sort," Angus told her. Suddenly he realized that the sun +was low above the western ranges and that the early fall evening was +coming. "We'll have to be moving if we're to get home by dark," he said. +"To-morrow I'll skin out the bear."</p> + +<p>"Oh—my pony!" she exclaimed. "I never thought of him."</p> + +<p>"No use looking for him. Likely he headed for home. You'll ride my +horse."</p> + +<p>"And let you walk? Indeed, no!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you will."</p> + +<p>"But I won't. You're hurt—"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," Angus lied cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are. There, you see, you're almost too stiff to walk. I won't +have it, Angus, really I won't."</p> + +<p>Angus did not argue the point further. He was accustomed to having his +own way with girls, or at least with Jean. He was sore and stiff, and +when he first moved a sharp pain in his side made him catch his breath, +but he knew that the best cure for stiffness is movement. They crossed +the creek and he saddled Chief, and without a word began to take up the +stirrups.</p> + +<p>"Angus," said Faith Winton, "I meant what I told you. I rode your pony +years ago, when I was a little, lost girl—"</p> + +<p>"What are you now?"</p> + +<p>"A pedestrian," she said with determination.</p> + +<p>"Now, see," Angus urged. "It's over five miles. Your shoes would be cut +to pieces on the rocks, and you'd be tired out. So you're going to +ride."</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>not</i>, Angus! What are you—Oh!"</p> + +<p>For Angus, finding that argument was a waste of time had picked her up +and put her in the saddle. Thence she stared down at him, and now there +was no lack of color in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Angus Mackay! What—what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You are going to ride," Angus told her with finality, "and that is all +there is to it."</p> + +<p>"I'm not used to being thrown about like a sack of oats!" she flashed, +and would have dismounted, but he stopped her. "How dare you!" she +cried. "Let me down! Take your hands off me, Angus Mackay!"</p> + +<p>"Then behave sensibly!" said Angus.</p> + +<p>"Sensibly! My heavens! do you think I'm a child?"</p> + +<p>"A child would be glad to ride."</p> + +<p>"Do you think you can make me do things merely because you're stronger?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Angus told her flatly, "some things. This, for one."</p> + +<p>"Admitting that—you're brutal!"</p> + +<p>"And admitting that," Angus returned, "will you act like a sensible +girl?"</p> + +<p>For a moment she frowned at him, her eyes stormy, dark with anger. And +then, slowly, she bent low over the saddle horn, and turned her face +away, while a sob shook her slight figure. At which awful spectacle +Angus' resolution suddenly melted to contrition.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that!" he pleaded. "Don't cry. I didn't mean it. Come on and +walk. Walk all you like. Walk a lot. I'll help you down."</p> + +<p>She turned her face to him and he gasped; for in place of tears there +was laughter, mocking laughter.</p> + +<p>"You—you fraud!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"You—you bluff!" she retorted. "This was one of the things you could +make me do because you were stronger, was it? Oh, Angus Mackay, what a +soft heart you have in that big body!"</p> + +<p>"It would serve you right if I made you walk!" he told her indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, wouldn't it? But you won't. I'll ride—if you'll promise to tell +me if you get tired."</p> + +<p>And so they went down the old tote road in the wan light of the fall +sunset.</p> + +<p>"It's exactly like that day so many years ago," she said.</p> + +<p>But Angus, though he agreed with her, was privately conscious of a vast +difference. On that far-away day he had considered the little, lost girl +a nuisance and an imposition. Now he felt a strange, warm glow and +thrill as he walked beside her, and a sense of contentment strange to +him. He was conscious of this feeling. But, quite honestly, he +attributed it to the fact that he had just got his first grizzly, and +what was more, centered him, charging, with every shot; which, as he +looked at it, ought to be a source of satisfaction to any properly +constituted man, and adequately explained the sense of contentment +aforesaid.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>A TALK WITH JUDGE RILEY</h3> + + +<p>Dr. Wilkes investigated the naked torso of Angus Mackay with skilled +fingers.</p> + +<p>"Two ribs cracked," he announced, "and you're lucky at that, young man. +The scalp wound is nothing. The ribs will be all right in a few weeks, +if you give them a chance. Mind, you, Angus, no hard riding, no lifting; +move gently and rest all you can."</p> + +<p>"But the fall work—" Angus began. The doctor cut him short.</p> + +<p>"Work!" he exploded irritably. "There's that word again. By heaven, you +all say it! It's 'I can't go away, doc, I can't take a holiday, I can't +rest. I've got to work.' Lord knows how many times I've heard it, and +from men who wouldn't work a sick or lame horse on a bet. You'd think +health was the least important thing on earth, something to be fixed up +in a day or two with a Blaud's pill. Work is a fine thing to keep folks +out of mischief, but it isn't the chief end of man, and it isn't a +damned fetich that demands human sacrifice. Who'll do your work when +you're dead?" He glared at Angus ferociously beneath shaggy, +red-and-gray brows.</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't worry about that," Angus laughed. "I hope it's a long way +off."</p> + +<p>"It missed your head by about an inch yesterday," Wilkes told him. +"There you stand, over six feet, and nearly two hundred pounds of as +fine bone and sinew and flesh and blood as I've ever seen, every organ +of you, as far as I can tell, as sound as clear pine. And you may be +good for seventy years more—or seventy hours. A long way off! Your +horse steps in a hole, or a team bolts and you happen to fall wrong, or +a little drop of blood clots somewhere. And puff! away you go like a +pinch of dust on the trail, which is exactly what you are. A long way +off! Of all the blasted but blessed cocksureness of youth!" And he +grumbled and growled as he strapped up the injured side.</p> + +<p>But Angus paid little attention to the doctor's homily. From the +latter's office he went to see Judge Riley who, much to everybody's +surprise, had cut his drinking down if not out, and in consequence was +much busier than of old. Before him Angus laid the puzzle of Faith +Winton's property, Godfrey French's connection therewith, and Braden's +attempt to sell part of it.</p> + +<p>"There may be a perfectly good explanation," said the lawyer. "For +instance, there may have been other properties or other transactions +involved. Then as to Braden's attempt to sell to Chetwood, he may have +been acting for French, who may be Winton's executor. In any event, if +half of this land could be sold for as much as was paid for the whole, +nobody but the purchaser would be apt to make subsequent objection."</p> + +<p>"But if French paid only about three dollars for the land and split the +difference with somebody, couldn't Miss Winton claim the difference?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly. But you have no evidence of that. If you like, I'll search +the title and find out who sold the land and what consideration is +stated in the conveyance to Winton. Drop in some time next week."</p> + +<p>Angus waited the week with impatience. Convinced that there had been +crooked work somewhere, he was anxious to get at the facts. Also he +chafed at the comparative inactivity imposed on him by his injured +ribs.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the judge, when Angus sought him again, "I haven't found +out very much. But Braden apparently owns this property."</p> + +<p>"Braden!" Angus exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is the registered owner of a large block of land which seems to +include this. So far as most of the land is concerned, he is the +original grantee. As to the Tetreau land, Tetreau was the original +grantee of that. Five hundred acres was granted to Tetreau, and sold by +him to Braden for an expressed monetary consideration of one thousand +dollars and certain other considerations not specified. When he acquired +that land from Tetreau, Braden then had a compact block, and apparently +he has it still."</p> + +<p>"But there must be a deed to Winton."</p> + +<p>"If so it isn't registered. Braden can convey and give a good registered +title. There is nothing to show any interest of Winton's. Are you sure +this is the property his daughter meant?"</p> + +<p>"From her description, it can't be any other."</p> + +<p>"Then probably there is an unregistered conveyance from Braden to +Winton, or to French as the latter's trustee. As to the price paid, it +may have been high, but it does not prove nor even raise the presumption +of fraud. You can't tell the girl your suspicions, when they are mere +suspicions, especially while she is under French's roof."</p> + +<p>"I believe both Braden and French are crooks. I never liked Braden, but +up to a little while ago, I thought he was straight. And I always +thought old French was a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"So he is."</p> + +<p>"Not if he is a crook."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" the judge returned. "Gentlemen have been pirates, outlaws +and highwaymen. A gentleman may be a blackguard, just as a well-bred dog +may be a sheep-killer, or run wild with wolves. It's one word, not two. +It's a name for a breed, not a descriptive term for qualities such as +honesty, courtesy or the like."</p> + +<p>"If a man has those qualities, isn't he a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the judge, "though he may be something a good deal better. +I'm as democratic as they make 'em, but it is an undoubted fact that +there are strains of men, just as there are strains of animals. +Considered as a strain of mankind, a gentleman is a gentleman, no matter +how big a rascal he is. The Frenches are all gentlemen—that is, all but +Blake."</p> + +<p>"Why not Blake, if it is a breed?"</p> + +<p>"God knows," the judge replied. "Blake is a full brother to the rest, +but he's not the same breed. He's a throwback to something that crept in +somehow, maybe a century or so ago, when nobody was looking. He has the +body, but not the heart. He is a cur, while the rest are—wolves." He +drummed on his blotter. "In confidence, Angus, I am going to tell you +one or two things: The first is that the Frenches have little or no +money left. They have been going down hill steadily for years. This +horse racing and gambling is not amusement, but their living. Their +ranch is mortgaged for all it will stand, and more. So you see, it's not +likely French could repay the girl, even if we proved he cheated Winton.</p> + +<p>"And now for Braden:" He paused for a moment, and his bushy brows drew +down. "If there is one thing I despise," he said with emphasis, "it is a +hypocrite. More repulsive to me than even sordid crime is hypocrisy, +snivelling righteousness, a lip-and-broadcloth service of the Almighty, +the broad phylacteries of the Pharisee. All my life I have hated such +things. And Braden, mark you, is a hypocrite. Outwardly, he is full of +good works. Your father was deceived in him, and I told him so when he +would have made Braden his executor, but I had merely my own opinion.</p> + +<p>"Well, when your father died, Braden conceived an ingenious plan to get +hold of the ranch, knowing that it would increase in value very much, +eventually. The first step was to get you children off it, to put +somebody else on, to allow the rent to get into arrears, to let the +place run down a little. With the accumulating interest on the mortgage, +ownership would involve a heavy financial burden. Then a straw man would +have made an offer for the place, d'ye understand me? And to get money +for your education and maintenance Braden would have accepted, and to +keep his skirts clean he would have got a court order approving the +sale. Afterward the straw man would have transferred to Braden. Is that +clear to you?"</p> + +<p>Angus nodded, amazed.</p> + +<p>"Also absence from the place would have weaned you youngsters away from +it," the judge continued. "When you came to me for advice I went to +Braden and read his mind to him, and his face told me I had read it +aright. Since then he has hated me for knowing him for what he knows +himself to be. So, in course of time, he laid a trap for me with a +pretended client and monies for a certain investment. The idea was that +the man with whom I was to invest the monies was to deny it, and they +thought they had it arranged so that I could not produce evidence of +what had become of it. But they were wrong. I had evidence, and with a +very little more I'd have had a clear case of conspiracy against them. +However, I fell short of that and let it go. But one thing it did for +me: It showed me that I needed a clear head, and it gave me the will to +fight the habit that had a grip on me. So there's information in +confidence for you, Angus. Now Braden and French are working together. +French and his sons get the confidence of young fellows with more money +than experience, steer them to Braden who sells them land, and the +commissions are split. Perhaps that is what happened in the Winton case. +Only we can't prove it."</p> + +<p>"No," Angus admitted. For the first time he told the judge of the money +he had borrowed from Braden. The old jurist whistled softly.</p> + +<p>"What with that and the mortgage arrears, you are not in good shape, my +boy. If I were you, I should make every effort to get clear as soon as +possible."</p> + +<p>"The hail hit me badly, but next year, with a good crop and all the new +land I have broken, I ought to be able to make a good payment. Then you +think nothing can be done to help Miss Winton?"</p> + +<p>"Braden tried once to find a purchaser for part of it, and he may try +again." The judge's eyes twinkled. "In that case would you consider it +your duty to warn the intending purchaser?"</p> + +<p>Angus grinned, flushing a little. "If it would help Miss Winton I would +consider it my duty to mind my own business."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me about the only chance she has to get back part of the +money," said the judge. "While that chance exists, it is just as well to +say nothing to anybody."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>A CRISIS</h3> + + +<p>Winter came with the going of the last brigades of the geese. The +sloughs and lakes froze, and the ground hardened to iron, ringing +hollowly beneath hoofs, rumbling dully to wagon wheels. It was cold, but +there was no snow in the valleys, though it lay white well down the +flanks of the ranges. On the benchlands there was nothing to relieve the +dark gloom of the firs, the bareness of the deciduous trees, the +frost-burnt dead of the grasses.</p> + +<p>Angus had seen little of Faith Winton. At the French ranch he felt like +a cat in a strange garret. He had little or nothing in common with the +French boys, and certainly nothing with the young men who made the place +a hang-out. Though old Godfrey French was polite enough, Angus felt or +thought he felt a certain cool contempt. Kathleen was the only one of +the family with whom he was at ease.</p> + +<p>He was now able to ride, and help round up the cattle for the winter. +But to his annoyance there were several head which could not be found. +Again they were steers, beef cattle. As in the case of the others, some +years before, they seemed to have vanished utterly. Rennie was sure they +had been rustled, and again he blamed the Indians. In the end he took +his rifle and an outfit, and Angus knew that very little would escape +his methodical combing. On top of his other hard luck Angus felt the +loss badly. He was going to be very hard run for money. None too +cheerfully he went at the various tasks of snugging up for the winter.</p> + +<p>In these he had little or no assistance from Turkey. The youngster was +absent more than ever, and, one morning when, instead of helping with +fencing, he led out his mare saddled, Angus ventured remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"There are a whole lot of things to do," he observed.</p> + +<p>"No rush," Turkey returned. "Let 'em wait."</p> + +<p>"I am not waiting."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am," Turkey said, his tone suddenly truculent. "I've worked all +summer and fall, and I want some fun. I'm going to have it, too."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I want some myself," Angus suggested, holding his temper.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you!" Turkey's voice held careless scorn of Angus' desire for +recreation. "Well, if you want it, go and get it. Nobody's stopping you. +And nobody's going to stop me."</p> + +<p>Angus shut his lips grimly over the words which rose to them. He saw his +brother ride away, defiance in the set of his shoulders, and he turned +to his work, bitterness in his heart. That, he reflected sourly, was +what he got for sticking to work. He was the steady, reliable old horse. +Nobody suspected him of a longing for other things. A working machine, +that's what he was. For Jean he did not mind, but for Turkey! Why, in +weeks the boy had made a mere bluff at working, for months he had +slacked. Instead of doing a man's work as he should, he had been barely +earning his grub. In sudden anger Angus sank a staple with a blow which +snapped the hammer handle like a stick of candy. He threw the fragment +from him with a curse. But the action and the oath did not relieve. +Instead of acting as a safety valve, his self-control slipped by that +much. A black mood descended on him and persisted through the day. That +night he ate in glum silence, smoked in silence, and went to bed +without uttering half a dozen words to Gus, who, Turkey not having +returned, was his sole companion.</p> + +<p>He slept badly. In a period of wakefulness he heard the drum hoofs on +the frozen ground and knew that Turkey was coming home at last. Looking +at his watch by the light of a match he saw that it was nearly two +o'clock in the morning. A nice time for a fellow to come home who +expected to do any work the next day. But perhaps Turkey didn't intend +to.</p> + +<p>Turkey took his time putting up his mare. When he entered the house he +tripped over a chair, coming down with a crash. Whereat he swore, and +something in his voice made Angus jump out of bed and light his lamp. +With it in his hand he entered Turkey's room.</p> + +<p>One look confirmed his suspicions. Turkey was more than half drunk. +Angus stared at him in angry amazement, and Turkey stared back, sullen +and defiant, the butt of a cigarette between his lips.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "what you lookin' at?"</p> + +<p>"At you," Angus returned. "Who got you drunk?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't drunk," Turkey denied. "If I want a drink I guess I can take it +without asking you."</p> + +<p>"Who were you with?" Angus persisted.</p> + +<p>"None of your dam' business!" Turkey told him flatly.</p> + +<p>Angus hesitated. He felt a strong desire to man-handle his young +brother, but finally he decided against it. He went back to bed, but not +to sleep. His anger struggled with a feeling of responsibility for +Turkey. The boy must not be allowed to make a fool of himself; but he +was difficult to handle. He realized that he himself was the last person +from whom he would take advice, but something had to be done.</p> + +<p>Puzzling over his course he became aware that the room was no longer +dark. It was not the dim light of dawn, but a reddish, reflected glow. +With the realization he bounded from his bed and into the living room. +There the light was brighter, and through a window which faced the +stables he saw a shaft of flame lick high in the air.</p> + +<p>"Gus!" he shouted. "Fire!"</p> + +<p>As he dashed for his room and pulled on trousers and moccasins, he heard +the weight of Gus hit the floor above. Not waiting for him, he ran for +the stables.</p> + +<p>The stable yard and corrals were drenched in a red glare, and smoke and +leaping sheets of flame were driving with a bitter south wind. The stock +in corrals and sheds was bawling; in the stable horses were stamping and +whinnying. For a moment he thought the stable was on fire, but as he +vaulted a five-foot gate, not waiting to open it, he saw that it was not +the stable but the great stack of hay close to it and directly to +wind-ward.</p> + +<p>Nothing could save the stack. The fire had a good hold and the flame +sheets were leaping and smothering in hot smoke with the noise of a +hundred flapping blankets. The fire and the sparks were driving directly +at the stable. Its walls were of peeled logs, which offered little hold +for fire, but its roof was of split shakes and its mow full of hay.</p> + +<p>He threw the doors wide and began to turn the horses loose. But +frightened by the glare and the smoke and the roar and crackle of +flames, they hung back snorting, cowering in their stalls.</p> + +<p>It was no time for half measures. Gus joined him, a fiendish figure in +red flannel underclothes, which he wore day and night all the year +round, for the big Swede had waited only to pull on a pair of +moccasins. With whip and pitchfork they slashed and prodded the animals +out.</p> + +<p>"By the Yumpin' Yudas!" Gus cried, "Ay tank dae stable ban go."</p> + +<p>It looked like it. The flames were reaching and snapping back, and +flying streams of sparks were now driving upon the weather-worn, dry +shakes. If the roof caught, or if a vagrant spark reached the hay with +which the mow was filled, nothing could save it. But Angus was not +inclined to lose his stable without an effort.</p> + +<p>"Get all the horse blankets and wagon covers, soak 'em, and throw 'em up +to me," he ordered. "I'm going up on the roof. Help me with the ladder."</p> + +<p>A ladder hung on the north wall of the stable. Together they shot it up. +Angus grabbed a coil of lash rope and a couple of lariats, and ran up +the ladder. Making the rope fast to the top rung and taking the coil +over his arm he crawled up the steep slope of the roof. As he put his +head over the ridge smoke stung his eyes and bit at his lungs. The pitch +was fairly bubbling from the old shakes on the southern exposure.</p> + +<p>Behind him Gus staggered up the ladder with an armful of dripping horse +blankets which he had soaked in the ditch. Angus ripped off a bit of +loose lining and tied it over his nose and mouth. Then, taking the wet +blankets on one arm and a turn of rope around the other, he drew a full +breath of good air and went over the ridge into the smoke and flying red +cinders.</p> + +<p>Down close to the eaves he saw a little, blue flame start and die, and +start again and live. He went down, his body at right angles to the +pitch of the roof against the pull of the rope, and spread a dripping +blanket on it. As he did so a big fluff of burning hay lit above him. +He extinguished that. Little, creeping lizards of fire began to glow, +and he beat them out and yelled for more blankets. The moisture was +being sucked from his body, his eyes stabbed with pain and his lungs +ached. Sparks clung to him and burned through to the skin, the heat of +the roof struck through the soles of his moccasins. The little, creeping +flames, starting everywhere, seemed personal enemies, and he beat upon +them with wet blankets, and stamped upon them and croaked curses at +them. Then Gus was beside him, a very welcome demon in his red garments, +working like a maniac and swearing strange oaths. Together they kept the +roof till the heat lessened, and the tongues and sheets of flame snapped +no more in their faces, and blackened and gray ashes instead of red +cinders powdered them, and where Angus' fine stack of bright hay had +been was a red and glowing heap.</p> + +<p>They came down from the roof and drank deeply from the running ditch, +and the cold wind striking their overheated bodies through burnt and +insufficient clothing, cut to the bone.</p> + +<p>In the house, changing his burnt garments for warm clothes, Angus for +the first time thought of his brother and looked into his room. The boy +slept. He had known nothing of the fire.</p> + +<p>"By Yimminy, dat kid sleep like a mudsill," Gus commented. "Ay holler at +him when Ay go out, too."</p> + +<p>"Let him sleep," Angus said. "Come on and get the horses into the stable +again."</p> + +<p>He spoke quietly, but there was bitter anger in his heart. It was bad +enough that Turkey should lie in drunken slumber; but far worse than +that he was the last person who had been near the stable and stack. +Neither Angus nor Gus had been out of the house for five or six hours +before the fire. As they put the horses back Angus found Turkey's mare's +manger full of hay. Drunk or sober the boy would look after the animal's +needs. But to get hay he had either to fork it down from the mow or get +it from the stack. As the mow was dark, with a ladder to climb, there +wasn't much doubt that he had got it from the latter. Then at the stack +he had either dropped the butt of a cigarette or the end of a match. +There was no doubt in Angus' mind as to the origin of the fire.</p> + +<p>But as was his custom, he kept his thoughts to himself. He sent Gus to +the house to get what sleep he could, and he remained on guard against +chances from stray sparks.</p> + +<p>As he stared at the heap of black and gray and red which had been his +stack his anger hardened. In the heart of the heap he seemed to see the +fields where the hay had grown, green and tender in the spring, laced +with the silver threads of irrigation waters; and lush and high and +waving in the summer winds, tipped and tinged with the pink and red of +clover and alfalfa and the purple bloom of timothy. He thought of the +labor that had gone into it—the careful irrigation, the mowing, the +raking, the hauling, the stacking—all to the end that the stock should +be full-bellied and fat-clad against the cold and snow that shrinks +ill-nourished stock to racks of hide-tied bone. He looked ahead—two +months, three—and he could hear the hunger-bawling of the cattle +clustered by the corral bars, and see them hump-backed and lean and +shivering, and weak and dying of cold and hunger. He could see their +eyes, looking to him for the food man should provide.</p> + +<p>Unless he would see that picture become grim reality he must buy feed, +and he had no money to spare. His straw was quite insufficient to +winter his stock on. Then he had counted on selling some of the hay. It +all meant that his debt must be increased. In the breath of the fire the +fruits of his hard work had been wiped out. As he thought of all these +things he was filled with bitterness against his brother.</p> + +<p>When dawn came and all danger was over he went in to breakfast. Turkey +still slept. Angus let him slumber, and going to the workshop went to +work repairing a set of sleighs.</p> + +<p>He had worked for an hour or more when Turkey emerged from the house, +his hands in his pockets, his back hunched. At first he did not notice +the absence of the stack. When he did, being almost at the stable, he +stopped short, staring at the black heap, at the frozen blankets and +covers hanging on the fence. He entered the stable, came out again, and +hearing Angus' hammering, made for the workshop. As he came in Angus saw +that his mouth was set, his face flushed, his brow scowling.</p> + +<p>"Say—" he began and stopped. "Say—"</p> + +<p>"Well?" Angus returned, coldly.</p> + +<p>"The stack!"</p> + +<p>"You can see for yourself, can't you?"</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you call me?"</p> + +<p>"You'd have been a lot of use!"</p> + +<p>The boy flushed darkly.</p> + +<p>"What started it?"</p> + +<p>"You ought to know," Angus replied, "whether you do or not."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Turkey cried.</p> + +<p>"I mean that you started the fire yourself."</p> + +<p>"What?" Turkey exclaimed. "I didn't! What do you take me for?"</p> + +<p>"Where did you get the hay to fill Dolly's manger?"</p> + +<p>"From the stack," Turkey admitted.</p> + +<p>"I thought so. And you dropped a butt or a match. Nobody else had been +near there for hours."</p> + +<p>"I didn't. I didn't light a cigarette till after I came out of the +stable."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you know what you did. The stack is gone. We have to buy +feed now, and we haven't the money to pay for it."</p> + +<p>"That's not my fault," Turkey asseverated. "I won't be blamed for what I +didn't do."</p> + +<p>"No," Angus returned grimly, "but for what you did do."</p> + +<p>"If you say I started that fire you're a —— liar!" Turkey flared.</p> + +<p>Angus looked at him with narrowing eyes.</p> + +<p>"You had better go slow, Turkey," he warned. "I don't feel like taking +much from anybody this morning. And I'll take less from you than +anybody."</p> + +<p>"Then don't say I started that fire!" Turkey cried "The hay was mine as +well as yours. You act as if you were boss here, and I won't stand for +it any longer."</p> + +<p>Under ordinary circumstances Angus would have let that go. But now he +was sore and worried and angry. He had worked hard, denied himself a +good deal to hold the ranch together and make a living for them all. It +seemed that a show-down had to come and he was ready for it.</p> + +<p>"We may as well settle this now," he said. "I am boss. I mean to stay +boss, and while you're on this ranch you'll toe the mark after this, +understand?"</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" Turkey sneered.</p> + +<p>"It is so," Angus repeated. "Let me tell you something: I've given you +the easy end right along, and you haven't held up even that. You've +shirked and loafed every chance you've had. This has got to stop. And +there will be no more of this coming in at all hours of night."</p> + +<p>"I'll come in when I like and go where I like," Turkey declared +defiantly, "and I'd like to see you stop me."</p> + +<p>"You will see it," Angus told him grimly. "You ought to be ashamed of +yourself. You've burnt up our stack—"</p> + +<p>"You're a liar!" Turkey cried hotly. "Don't you tell me that again!"</p> + +<p>"Tell you again!" Angus said contemptuously. "I'll not only tell you +again, but for two pins I'd hand you something to make you remember it."</p> + +<p>"Then fly at it!" Turkey cried, and struck him in the face.</p> + +<p>For an instant Angus was so surprised that he did nothing at all. Then, +taking another blow, he caught his brother by wrist and shoulder and +slammed him back against the wall with a force which shook the frame +building. He was white-hot with anger, and all that restrained him was +fear—fear that if he once lost grip of himself he would go too far. As +he held the boy pinned and helpless he fought his fight and won it. His +grip relaxed and he stepped back.</p> + +<p>"Don't ever do that again, Turkey," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>Turkey, freed, stared at him. "I called you a liar and hit you twice."</p> + +<p>"I know it," Angus returned impatiently. "And I could beat you to a +froth, and you know it. I don't want to start—the way I'm feeling. +That's all."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm sorry I hit you," Turkey conceded. "But all the same, I didn't +fire the stack."</p> + +<p>"We won't talk about it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we will. If you think I did, I'm pulling out."</p> + +<p>"You'll do as you please," Angus said coldly. "You'll come back mighty +soon."</p> + +<p>"Don't fool yourself," Turkey retorted. "I'm sick of this dam' place, +and working day in and day out."</p> + +<p>"I've told you what I think of your work. If you're sick of it I'm just +as sick of coddling you along. Can't you get it through your head that +you're almost a man?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Turkey returned, "and I'm going where I'll be treated like one."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll have to change a lot," Angus informed him. "When you behave +like one you'll be treated like one, here or anywhere else. Till you do +that, you won't. And here it is cold for you, Turkey, with no trimmings: +You may go to the devil if you like; but you can't stay on this ranch +and do it, because I won't stand for it."</p> + +<p>And so, at last, the issue between the brothers, so long pending, lay +clear and sharply defined. There was no middle course. For a long minute +they looked each other in the face. Then said Turkey:</p> + +<p>"You and the ranch can go to hell!"</p> + +<p>He turned on his heel and went to the house whence, a few minutes later, +he emerged wearing wool chaps and a heavy mackinaw. In one hand he +carried his pet rifle; in the other a canvas warbag. He went into the +stable and presently led out his mare, saddled. Then he jogged away +without a glance in Angus' direction.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTMAS AT THE FRENCHES</h3> + + +<p>On Christmas Day, Angus and Rennie found themselves alone on the ranch. +Gus had gone to town, which meant that he would be drunk for some days. +Turkey had not returned since he rode away, nor had Angus seen him, +though he had learned that he was helping Garland to round up a drive or +two of cattle and would probably feed a bunch through the winter for a +grubstake.</p> + +<p>The weather had turned mild. The day was warm as October, and the frost +was coming out of the ground, for still there was no snow. Rennie was +busy with preparations for an elaborate night dinner, but Angus was +restless.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll go out and look for that old buckskin cayuse," he said.</p> + +<p>"He ain't worth lookin' for," Rennie returned; "but if you go, you +better pack that old buffler coat."</p> + +<p>But Angus did not take the old buffalo riding coat which had been his +father's. He got into a pair of leather chaps and tied a mackinaw on the +saddle.</p> + +<p>The big horse wanted to go, and Angus let him. When he left the road it +was to follow cattle trails, on which Chief sailed smoothly. Now and +then he pulled up to listen for bells, but the buckskin was merely an +excuse. He was an old sinner, with a habit of staying out as long as he +could rustle feed. When Angus ran across him at last, late in the +afternoon, he was with a band of half-wild, disreputable friends, from +whom he had no intention of being separated. They knew every foot of +every trail in a badly broken country, and Chief, though sure-footed, +was not a stock horse. The continued twists and turns and brush worried +him. He could not use his speed, and not knowing exactly what was +expected of him, began to fret. After an hour of fruitless chase Angus +gave it up and looked around to get his bearings.</p> + +<p>He found himself up under a mountain in a rough country some fifteen +miles from home. The sun was gone; and all over the north and west and +overhead the sky was blue-black, trimmed with dirty gray. As he sat +breathing Chief he could hear a far-off straining and sighing. A gust of +cold wind drove past, and borne with it were white flakes.</p> + +<p>Angus needed nobody to interpret these signs, and he cursed the buckskin +and his own carelessness in neglecting to watch sun and sky. Real winter +was opening with a blizzard, and from all indications it was going to be +the real thing.</p> + +<p>In five minutes the snowflakes had become a white blur. He could not see +fifty yards ahead. Trails vanished. Landmarks were invisible. The air +was full of drifting white. It was as if one had suddenly gone nearly +blind, unable to see beyond a short radius. No man could hold a course +with certainty. Constantly it grew colder, and the light began to fail.</p> + +<p>Riding fast in the growing darkness was impossible. The cold began to +nip his fingers through his light buckskin gloves, and his toes, for he +was wearing leather boots and but a single pair of socks. He steered a +general downhill course which he knew in time must intersect a wagon +trail which led past the French ranch and thence home. The trouble was +that in the darkness he might cross it. In that event it would be a case +of spending the night out.</p> + +<p>It grew utterly dark, save for a certain dim light which the snow seemed +to hold. Warned by a growing numbness in his feet Angus dismounted and +stamped the blood back into them. He decided that it must be below zero. +On the brows of the benches the wind was bitter.</p> + +<p>Just as he decided that he must have passed it, he came on the wagon +trail. He mounted and gave Chief his head. But once more his feet began +to numb. Again he got down and stamped the circulation going, but as +soon as he began to ride again they numbed. To take off boots and rub +was out of the question, so he sent Chief sailing into the blinding +storm, trusting to luck to keep on the road.</p> + +<p>After several miles of blind riding he saw the far flicker of a light +which he knew must come from the French ranch. He had no wish to intrude +on Christmas night, but he knew that unless he was to have badly frozen +feet he must get to shelter at once. He struck the fence, followed it to +the gate, and turned in.</p> + +<p>The house, when he got close enough to see through the driving snow, was +brightly lighted behind drawn blinds. The chords of a piano came to him, +accompanying a strong, ringing baritone, and as he passed beneath the +window the old, rousing, hunting chorus of "John Peel" crashed out.</p> + +<p>A devil of a time to butt in, Angus reflected grimly, as he led Chief +under the partial shelter of the house. No doubt there was a Christmas +party on. However, it was no night to indulge in pride or shyness.</p> + +<p>He could not leave Chief out in the storm, and an attempt to stable him +himself would probably mean a battle with the dogs which slept in the +stables. He banged on the door, and as no one answered stepped into the +hall. After the temperature outside it seemed tropical, friendly with +the smell of warmth and good tobacco. Being in a hurry, he did not stand +on ceremony, but opened the door to his left just as the last notes of +"John Peel" died. For a moment he blinked in the light like a +storm-driven night bird.</p> + +<p>There were nearly a dozen men besides the Frenches, and among them he +recognized Chetwood. Kathleen was swinging around from the piano, +laughing up at the singers. Tobacco smoke eddied blue around the hanging +lamps. A couple of card tables were going. After the hours of cold and +darkness and the sting of the wind-driven snow, it seemed to Angus +extraordinarily warm and cosy and comforting.</p> + +<p>Kathleen was the first to catch sight of the snow-plastered apparition +in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Why, Angus!" she exclaimed, springing to her feet.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to bother you," Angus said, "but I got caught back on the +range, and my feet are touched a little. If I can put up my horse—"</p> + +<p>But Gavin French rose from his card game.</p> + +<p>"Larry will look after your horse. You come along with me out of this +heat."</p> + +<p>Angus stumped after the blond giant down the hall and into a back +kitchen, where he unlaced his boots while Gavin brought in a dishpan of +snow.</p> + +<p>"Toes and heels," the big man observed as he rubbed briskly. "It's no +night for leather boots. It's close to fifteen below now, and a wind +with it. Feel the blood starting yet?"</p> + +<p>Angus felt the welcome tingle of returning circulation and continued the +rubbing himself, while Gavin brought him his own moccasins and a pair +of heavy woolen socks. As he was putting them on Kathleen entered.</p> + +<p>"If you were caught on the range you haven't had anything to eat. I've +got something ready in the dining room. You can go back to your game, +Gan. I'll look after him."</p> + +<p>"Don't bother about me," Angus said.</p> + +<p>"I'm not. Come along and eat."</p> + +<p>He followed her into the dining room where the table was spread with a +substantial cold meal. She sat down with him.</p> + +<p>"Now, see here," he said, "this is not right. I'm taking you away from +your guests—"</p> + +<p>"You're one of them," she laughed.</p> + +<p>"An unbidden one."</p> + +<p>"But a very welcome one. Don't be silly."</p> + +<p>Angus ate and drank, and the food and hot coffee warmed him through.</p> + +<p>"And now," said Kathleen, "we'll join the festive throng."</p> + +<p>But Angus balked. He was not dressed for such things. He preferred to +stay out in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Angus Mackay, you make me tired!" Kathleen told him. "What do I care +about your clothes? You're still thinking of yourself as an unbidden +guest, after I've told you you're more than welcome. I'm not going to +let you sit out in the kitchen like an Indian. Come along, now, like a +good boy."</p> + +<p>As there was no way out of it, Angus followed her, feeling very +conscious of his worn riding-clothes. But as everybody was playing cards +nobody cast more than a casual glance in his direction, save Faith +Winton, who rose and came toward them.</p> + +<p>"Kathleen, I've driven my unfortunate partner nearly crazy. He's too +polite to tell me what he thinks of my play, but see how wistfully he's +looking at you."</p> + +<p>Kathleen laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, take care of Angus, then. And keep his mind off his clothes. He's +worrying because he isn't dressed like a head waiter." With a nod she +left them and seated herself at the vacant table.</p> + +<p>"They were relieved to get rid of me," Faith Winton laughed. "Shall we +sit down and talk? I haven't seen you for weeks. Why didn't you come to +see me once in awhile?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to, but somehow—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind excuses. When I get a place of my own perhaps you will be +more neighborly. I've made up my mind to build a house on my ranch in +the spring."</p> + +<p>She told him her plans. She would have a cottage built, buy a few head +of stock and some chickens, break a few acres as a start and set out +fruit trees. Between the rows she would grow small fruits, feed, +vegetables. When the trees came into bearing she would have an assured, +definite income.</p> + +<p>Angus listened in grim silence. He had heard it all before from the +hopeful lips of new settlers. Theoretically, so many bushels may be +grown to the acre, a tree so many years old will bear so many boxes of +fruit. This is quite unassailable, proven by actual experience, by +incontestable data, set out in reports which are the gospel of the new +and especially the inexperienced settler. He seizes these facts avidly, +but overlooks or refuses to consider a number of other things, such as +drought, hail, frosts early or late, winter-killed trees, pests, poor +years, low prices, and a hundred other factors which taken together make +those actually used entirely misleading. But the one big factor which +the inexperienced invariably refuse to consider at all, is that +inexperience itself.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to discourage you," he said, "but you know, don't you, +that you can't do this work yourself. Hiring will eat up your profit."</p> + +<p>"But there must be a margin. You hire men yourself."</p> + +<p>"I hire two men to about three hundred acres. You are thinking of hiring +about one man for ten. At that rate I should have thirty men, and the +land wouldn't pay for them."</p> + +<p>"But I could hire a man as I needed him, and what improvements I make +will increase the value of the place. And when I get more cleared—"</p> + +<p>Metaphorically, Angus threw up his hands. It was no use. Also it was +impossible to tell her the truth about the property under the +circumstances. With actual experience she might give up the idea. All he +could do was to make the experiment as cheap as possible for her.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "when the winter breaks up, if you're of the same mind, +I'll do your breaking and disking for you, if you like, and seed it down +to something. I can clean out the spring and run a ditch and fix it for +irrigating. You needn't bother with water from the creek for a few +acres. While I'm about it I might as well do the fencing and fork out +the sods for a garden patch. When the sleighing is good I'll haul over a +few loads of well-rotted manure."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said, "but—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," Angus continued. "I guess you don't know much +about planting trees and garden truck. I'll attend to that. I may as +well order your seeds while I'm getting my own. I can run a cultivator +through the garden now and then in the evenings. I can fix you up with +all the tools you'll need. Then I can give you a milk cow, a nice +quiet—"</p> + +<p>"Wait, wait!" she interrupted as Angus began to think of other items. +"What are all these things and all this work going to cost?"</p> + +<p>"Cost?" Angus echoed blankly. "Why, nothing, of course. They don't +amount to anything."</p> + +<p>"Don't they? It seems to me you're calmly arranging to do all my work +yourself—the work you said I'd have to hire done."</p> + +<p>"These are just a few little chores for a neighbor. Nobody would think +of charging for them. We sort of swap work about here."</p> + +<p>"But what work could I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Huh!" Angus hesitated, at a loss for an answer. "Oh, lots of things. +You could—er—um—yes, of course you could."</p> + +<p>"You can't think of one single thing I could do!"</p> + +<p>"You could pick berries," said Angus struck by a brilliant thought. +"Yes, you could do that better than any man. I always have a lot more +than I can use, and you could put up all you needed for the winter."</p> + +<p>"And you think giving me fruit would pay for—p-pay for—"</p> + +<p>She broke off, and Angus saw to his utter amazement that her eyes were +full of tears, as she bent her head.</p> + +<p>"Whatever is the matter?" he whispered. "Is it anything I've said?"</p> + +<p>"It's—it's everything you've said," she murmured. "Don't say anything +for a minute, please."</p> + +<p>So Angus kept silence, sorely puzzled, and in a few moments she looked +him in the face with eyes still misty and a little, tremulous smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's everything. I couldn't stand it. Nobody else has really +offered to help me. The boys think it's a joke, and Kathleen thinks I'm +mildly crazy. And then you, a stranger—"</p> + +<p>"I'm not. And I might as well put in my spare time helping you."</p> + +<p>"You have no spare time, and I know it. I must pay for what you do."</p> + +<p>"All right. I'll send you a bill."</p> + +<p>"For a fraction of what the work is worth!" she scoffed. "Not that way, +Angus Mackay!"</p> + +<p>"Any way you like," Angus said, knowing that he could make it up to her.</p> + +<p>"Very well—and thank you. I'll be an independent ranch lady—unless I +sell the place."</p> + +<p>"Has any one made you an offer?"</p> + +<p>"No. I would rather not sell, anyway."</p> + +<p>"You have your title deeds all in order, in case you should want to +sell?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. Uncle Godfrey would attend to that."</p> + +<p>"He has the title papers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I never saw them. I don't know much about such things. Father told +me Uncle Godfrey had them all."</p> + +<p>Angus dropped the subject. He could not very well suggest that she take +a look at these papers. Faith Winton on her part appeared satisfied. +Presently she suggested music and went to the piano. Lying back in a +chair Angus watched the soft curve of her cheek, her clean-cut profile, +the certain touch of her fingers on the keys. Absently his gaze wandered +to the card players. He had no idea of the stakes, but the players were +tense, absorbed. Faith Winton, glancing at him, marked his expression.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking of?" she asked without interrupting the play of +her fingers.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering how on earth these people can sit playing cards all +night."</p> + +<p>"I hate this," she said. He looked at her in surprise. "All of it. It's +not like Christmas night. It's not even sociability. It's gambling, pure +and simple. Uncle Godfrey and Kathleen will stop presently, but the boys +will play till morning."</p> + +<p>Shortly, the first half of her prediction was verified. The games broke +up. Godfrey French apologized perfunctorily. Time was when he would have +spent the night in such good company, but now he was no longer young. +With him went Faith and Kathleen.</p> + +<p>With their going the business of the evening began in earnest. A quartet +stuck to bridge, but the rest embarked on a poker game. Scotch +circulated briskly.</p> + +<p>Angus, very much out of it, sat and smoked, regarding the players idly. +He noted that the French boys—Blake was absent—drank very little. On +the other hand, some of the players drank a good deal. But finally he +lost interest. He became sleepy and dozed in his chair.</p> + +<p>He was awakened by loud voices. The poker game had broken up; the +players were on their feet.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Willoughby," Gerald French was saying, "you are quite +mistaken. Nothing of the sort happened.</p> + +<p>"I saw it," Willoughby maintained doggedly.</p> + +<p>"You are a guest," said Gerald, "but don't abuse your privileges."</p> + +<p>"I am aware of my obligations as a guest," Willoughby retorted, "but +they do not include allowing myself to be rooked at cards."</p> + +<p>Instantly Gerald struck him hard across the mouth and Willoughby lashed +back. Another guest sought to interfere. Young Larry pushed him back.</p> + +<p>"Keep out!" he said. "Mind your own business."</p> + +<p>"Keep your hands off me!" the other returned, and caught at his arm.</p> + +<p>Larry pinned him, and somebody else tried to pull him loose. Larry came +loose with remarkable alacrity, and did so hitting with both hands. +Gavin, pushing forward, was caught by two men. Instantly a rough-house +started.</p> + +<p>Angus sat where he was, taking no part. He saw Chetwood plunge into the +fray and go back from a straight punch. Gavin shook off three men as a +bear shakes clear of a worrying pack, and as he did so another man who +had caught up a chair, swung it at his head. The big man partially +dodged the blow, wrenched the chair away and brandished it high. As he +did so he emitted a short, deep roar of anger.</p> + +<p>Fearing that somebody might be seriously hurt, Angus decided to +interfere. He leaped forward and caught the chair as it poised for a +moment aloft.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that," he said. Gavin's ordinarily cold eyes were blazing.</p> + +<p>"Keep out of this," he said. "It's nothing to you." As he spoke he tried +to wrench the chair free; but Angus' grip held. Letting go himself, the +big man clinched him.</p> + +<p>Angus felt himself caught in a tremendous grip; but the wrench and heave +that followed did not pluck him from his footing. He locked his long +arms around Gavin, and the arch of his back and the sinews of his braced +legs held against him.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Gavin gave ground, swung and tripped with the heel. Angus felt +himself going, but he took his man with him. They rolled over and over. +By this time Angus had lost all his indifference. For the first time +since his full strength came upon him, he was putting it all forth +against a man as strong or stronger than himself. And then he became +aware that nobody else was fighting. Gavin's grip loosened.</p> + +<p>"Let go, Mackay," he said. "Cut it out now."</p> + +<p>Then Angus saw Kathleen. She had slipped on some clinging thing of blue +and lace, and her hair in its night braids hung to her waist. Her face +was pale and her eyes stormy with anger.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "<i>gentlemen</i>!"</p> + +<p>She accented the word with bitter irony. Her eyes swept over them +disdainfully, resting for a moment on Angus.</p> + +<p>"All right, Kit," Gavin said. "You can go back to roost."</p> + +<p>"If you're quite through!" she said. "Otherwise I'll stay."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we're through," Gavin assured her.</p> + +<p>Without another word Kathleen left the room. Behind her there was utter +silence for a moment. Then with one accord the guests moved toward the +door. Gavin halted them.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "you can't go till this blizzard blows out. Don't be +damned fools just because we've had a row. Mackay will tell you what +it's like outside. Now we'll leave you alone, because you probably want +it that way." He turned to Angus who stood apart from the rest, and +lowered his voice. "You're a good, skookum man, Mackay. I half wish +Kathleen hadn't butted in."</p> + +<p>"So do I," Angus returned. The big man smiled.</p> + +<p>"No hard feelings on my part," he said. "I'd just like to see which of +us was the better man. I never hooked up with anybody as husky as you. +You're not like these blighters." His eyes rested on his guests with +utter contempt. "You were right in catching that chair. I might have +hurt somebody. Thanks. Good night."</p> + +<p>Left alone, Angus after telling the others that in his opinion it would +be folly to venture out before daylight, established himself in his +corner, where Chetwood presently joined him.</p> + +<p>"Pleasant evening, what?" he observed. He grinned.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you were back."</p> + +<p>"Just got in the other night, and intended to look you up to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Do it, anyway."</p> + +<p>"I wanted to ask you if you could do with another man on your ranch?"</p> + +<p>"Not till spring."</p> + +<p>"Wages secondary object. Primary one a Christian home for an honest but +inexperienced young man whose funds are not what they should be."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"His full name is Eustace William Fitzroy Chetwood. But he would answer +to 'Bill.'"</p> + +<p>"You?" Angus exclaimed. "You're joking."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it. I have the best of reasons for asking. Tell you about +them some time. To-night is my last night of the gay life. Thought I +might win a little money, but instead of that I lost. I am an applicant +for work."</p> + +<p>"You're welcome. I can't pay much, but the meals come regularly."</p> + +<p>"That's very good of you," Chetwood acknowledged. "I'll move my traps +out to-morrow."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>INTRODUCING MRS. FOLEY</h3> + + +<p>That spring, as soon as the frost was out of the ground, Angus did his +promised work for Faith Winton, while a couple of carpenters ran up a +cottage, stable and outbuilding. With this extra work, Angus was more +than busy. The Frenches did nothing to help. They seemed to regard the +girl's actions as folly of which the sooner she was cured the better.</p> + +<p>"I am getting a companion, an old friend of mine," Faith told Angus one +day as the cottage neared completion. "It may be cowardly, but I don't +want to live here alone."</p> + +<p>"Of course it would be lonesome," he agreed. "It will be nice for you to +have a girl friend."</p> + +<p>She stared at him for a moment and laughed. "Oh, very nice. We'll move +in some time next week."</p> + +<p>A week passed and another, and Angus, though he had heard that the new +ranch was occupied, had had no opportunity to visit it. Then one evening +he saddled Chief and rode over.</p> + +<p>He saw smoke rising from the chimney, and when he dismounted and +ascended the steps he heard a strange swishing and thumping, accompanied +by a melancholy moaning which put him in mind of a dog scratching a sore +ear. Wondering what on earth the racket was about, he knocked.</p> + +<p>The noise ceased, heavy footsteps utterly unlike Faith Winton's crossed +the floor, the door opened and a strange lady confronted him. She was +short, but extremely broad of beam. Her hair, streaked with gray, had +once been a fiery red. She had keen, aggressive blue eyes, a short, +turned-up nose, and a wide mouth with perfect white teeth. Her sleeves +were rolled above her elbows, showing a pair of solid, red, freckled +forearms, and in one hand she carried a mop. Amazed at this apparition, +Angus gaped at her.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the lady in accents which left no doubt of her nationality, +"well, misther man, an' phwat will yez be wantin'?"</p> + +<p>"Is Miss Winton at home?" Angus asked.</p> + +<p>"She is <i>nat</i>."</p> + +<p>"She's living here now, isn't she?"</p> + +<p>"She is."</p> + +<p>"Which way has she gone?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll wait," Angus decided.</p> + +<p>"Outside!" the lady also decided.</p> + +<p>Bang! The door shut in Angus' face. Immediately the thump and swish +began again, though the moaning obligato did not. Angus sat down on the +steps and filled his pipe, but found he had no matches. For some moments +he sat there, sucking the cold stem and wondering where the deuce Faith +Winton had picked up this woman. No doubt she and her girl friend had +gone for a walk. Well, he might as well be doing something.</p> + +<p>He went around to the back of the house where he had hauled a pile of +wood, picked up an old ax and began to split. Once the lady of the mop +came to the back door and took a long look at him. By and by, tiring of +splitting and wanting a smoke very badly, he put on his coat and went to +the door to request a match. The lady of the mop met him on the +threshold.</p> + +<p>"Could you give me—" he began, but she cut him short.</p> + +<p>"I could <i>nat</i>," she said grimly. "Who asked ye to do ut? On yer way!"</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"They's nawthin' comin' to ye," the lady asserted. "Ut's no handout +yez'll get here."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want—"</p> + +<p>"Yez want coin, do yez? Divil th' cint will yez get!"</p> + +<p>"No, no," Angus protested, "you're all wrong. I want—"</p> + +<p>"An' do I care phwat yez want, ye black-avised bo?" the lady shouted in +a tops'l-yard-ahoy bellow. "Beggars on harrseback I've heerd iv, but +ye're the first I've seen. On yer way; or th' flat iv me hand and th' +toe iv me boot is phwat ye'll dhraw, for all the bigness iv ye, ye long, +lazy, herrin'—bel—"</p> + +<p>"Give me a match!" Angus roared through this wealth of personal +description, despairing of making his want known otherwise. "I want a +match, that's all."</p> + +<p>"A match?" the lady exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Sure, to light my pipe with," Angus told her. "I'm not a hobo. I'm +working the place for Miss Winton."</p> + +<p>"And why couldn't ye say so before?" she demanded, frowning at him.</p> + +<p>"Because you wouldn't give me a chance. You wouldn't let me get in a +word edgeways."</p> + +<p>"God save us all, an' maybe I wouldn't then," she admitted. "Is Mackay +th' name iv ye? Come in an' sit down. A match, is ut? Here ye are, +then."</p> + +<p>Angus sat down and lit his pipe, while she stared at him.</p> + +<p>"Faix, then, I wouldn't have knowed ye at all, at all," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, you never saw me before."</p> + +<p>"Be description, I mane. She said—"</p> + +<p>"Miss Winton?"</p> + +<p>"Who else? Yez do be big enough, but homelier than she said."</p> + +<p>"Did she say I was homely?"</p> + +<p>"Did I say so?" the lady returned, and her blue eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. But—"</p> + +<p>"Then don't be puttin' words into a woman's mouth, for God knows they's +no need iv ut," she told him. "An' so ye do be th' Mackay lad I've been +hearin' iv, that found her whin she was a little, lost wan, an' shooted +that murtherin' divil iv a grizzly bear!"</p> + +<p>Angus acknowledged his identity and diffidently inquired the lady's +name.</p> + +<p>"Me name, is ut? They's times whin I have to stop an' think. Mary Kelly +I was born, an' me first was Tim Phelan. A slip iv a gyurl I was then, +an' little more when they waked him. Dhrowned he was, but sure wather +was always fatal to his fam'ly, an' maybe it was all for the best, as +Father Paul said whin he married me to Dan Shaughnessy after a dacint +year. But he died himself, the holy man, before Dan fell off the roof, +an' it was Father Kerrigan said the words over me an' Pether Finucane. +It was Dinney Foley brought me th' news iv th' premachure blast that tuk +Pether, an' I married him. Dinny was me last. So me name's Mrs. Foley."</p> + +<p>"And is Mr. Foley here on the ranch?" Angus asked.</p> + +<p>"I hope not," Mrs. Foley returned with apprehension. "Givin' him th' +best iv ut, he's wid th' blessid saints. A voylent man was poor Dinney, +as broad as ye, but not so high, an' a lion wid a muckstick. But phwat's +a muckstick to knives? Sure thim dirty dagoes is born wid thim in their +hands. Though he stretched thim right an' left wid th' shovel, he could +not gyard his back. So whin I buried him I quit. No, I've had no luck at +all keepin' men." And Mrs. Foley sighed, pursed up her lips and shook +her head at Angus.</p> + +<p>"You do seem to have been out of luck," Angus sympathized gravely. "Have +you known Miss Winton long."</p> + +<p>"As long as she is. I nursed her wid me own b'y that died."</p> + +<p>"And have you known this girl friend of hers, long, too?"</p> + +<p>"Phwat gyurl friend?"</p> + +<p>"The one who is here with her—her companion."</p> + +<p>"I'm her," Mrs. Foley returned. "Where do ye get this gyurl friend +thing, anyway?"</p> + +<p>But Angus could not tell. He had put his own construction on Faith +Winton's words. At any rate Mrs. Foley seemed a capable companion.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope you'll like it here," he said. "It may be a little lonely, +but there's nothing to be afraid of. Bears seldom come down on the +benchlands now, and there are no hoboes worse than I am."</p> + +<p>"Afraid, is ut?" Mrs. Foley snorted. "An' wud I that has lived wid four +men be afraid iv a bear? I am not even afeard iv a mouse. Anyways, for +bears an' bos they's a dog."</p> + +<p>"I thought I heard him whining when I came to the front door."</p> + +<p>"Whining?" Mrs. Foley ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"Well, sort of moaning as if he was scratching a sore ear. And then he +howled."</p> + +<p>"Howled!" Mrs. Foley cried. "Th' nerve iv ye!"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Angus asked. "It sounded like a lonesome pup to +me."</p> + +<p>"Did ut, indade!" snorted Mrs. Foley. "Ye big, on-mannerly blackgyard, +that was me, singin'!"</p> + +<p>"Singing?" Angus gasped.</p> + +<p>"Singin'," Mrs. Foley repeated firmly. "An' a sweet song, too, a rale +Irish song. Color blind in th' ears, ye are, ye long lummix! May th' +divil—But phwat's the use? Th' ign'rance iv ye is curse enough!"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Mary?" Faith Winton's voice asked from the door. +"You're not quarrelling with Angus Mackay, I hope."</p> + +<p>"I wud not lower mesilf!" Mrs. Foley replied loftily, "though he said me +singin' was like the howlin's iv a purp."</p> + +<p>"No, no," Angus protested, "I didn't mean that. I heard your singing, +too, and it was fine."</p> + +<p>"Yez may be a willin' liar, but yer work is coorse," Mrs. Foley informed +him. "Well, I do not set up f'r to be wan iv thim divas. I can raise th' +keen fine over a corpse, but me singin' is privut an' so intended. So I +forgive ye, young man, more be token I can see it's herself thinks it's +a joke on the old gyurl. For shame, Miss Faith! An' me that's crooned ye +in yer cradle many's the long night!"</p> + +<p>But there was a twinkle in Mrs. Foley's blue eyes, and Angus began to +suspect that her bark was much worse than her bite.</p> + +<p>"Mary was my nurse," Faith told him when they were seated in the living +room. "She really thinks the world of me, spoils me—and bullies me. But +what do you think of my humble home? You haven't seen it since it was +finished."</p> + +<p>Angus approved the room and its furnishings. There was space to move, +and a fireplace. The chairs were comfortable and strong; there was a +spacious couch, a well-filled bookcase, a piano and a banjo case.</p> + +<p>"I like it," he said. "It's not cluttered up with a lot of junk. +Everything looks as if it could be used. That's what I like. Is that a +banjo and do you play it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I play it."</p> + +<p>"I like a banjo better than a piano."</p> + +<p>"You Philistine! Why?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps because I'm a Philistine. I don't know just why. All I know is +that I <i>do</i> like it better. A piano is sort of machine-made music to me; +but with a banjo the player seems to be making the music himself, as if +he was singing."</p> + +<p>"You mean there is more personal expression."</p> + +<p>"Maybe. I don't know anything about music. But a banjo seems to <i>talk</i>. +It's the thing for the tunes that everybody knows."</p> + +<p>"You and Kipling agree, then. You know his 'Song of the Banjo':</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And the tunes that mean so much to you alone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Common tunes that make you choke and blow your nose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vulgar tunes that bring the laugh that hides the groan—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can rip your very heartstrings out with those."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Yes, that's the idea. He's right enough there."</p> + +<p>"And how about:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'But the word, the word is mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the order moves the line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lean, locked ranks go roaring down to die,'?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>she asked curiously.</p> + +<p>"The only music to fight with and to die to is the pipes," Angus said.</p> + +<p>"The pipes? You mean the bagpipes."</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Some people," Faith laughed, "would say that death would be a blessed +relief from the sound of them."</p> + +<p>Angus smiled grimly. "I know. There are plenty of jokes about the pipes. +But they are no joke to the men who meet the men played into battle to +the skirl of them."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are right in that," Faith admitted. "I haven't a drop of +Scotch blood, so far as I know. But I have heard a pipe band playing +'Lochaber No More' behind a gun carriage which bore a dead soldier; and +I have seen the Highland regiments march past the colors at a review, to +'Glendarual' and 'Cock o' the North,' and heaven knows what gatherings +and pibrochs, and I have stood up on my toes and my back hair has felt +crinkly. I own up to it. But I love the banjo. It's a little sister of +the lonesome."</p> + +<p>She took the instrument, a beautiful concert model, from its case, keyed +it for a moment and spoke through low, rippling chords.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes at night I pick it by the hour—oh, very softly, so as not to +disturb anybody—not any particular tune—just odds and ends, +anything—and my thoughts go away off wool gathering and I am quite +happy. Can you understand such foolishness?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Angus replied seriously. "I can't play anything, or sing, but +there are times when I want to—if you can understand that."</p> + +<p>She nodded, her fingers brushing the strings. "Yes, I know. Often the +person who knows least about music loves it best—down in his soul."</p> + +<p>"Play something," Angus urged.</p> + +<p>And so Faith Winton played. At first she played consciously; but as the +daylight faded and the twilight came she let the strings talk. Bits of +old half-forgotten melodies rippled from her fingers, changing, +shifting, mingling and merging, now familiar or half familiar and then +quite strange; but always tugging, tugging at the heartstrings, as if in +the gut and parchment there dwelt a wayward, whimsical soul, half-sad +and half-merry, whimpering and chuckling in the growing darkness. +Suddenly the music swept into a rolling, thunderous march, shifted to a +rollicking Irish jig, and stopped abruptly with a crash of chords and a +ringing of gut and iron.</p> + +<p>"Don't stop," Angus said.</p> + +<p>"But I've played myself out—for this time. It's dark—quite dark—and I +didn't notice. I must get a light."</p> + +<p>"I must go. I have never heard playing like that—never. I'll take much +of it home with me."</p> + +<p>"Come and get more any time," she laughed. "When shall I see you again?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow or next day. There are several things to be done here. If I +can't come myself, I'll send Gus."</p> + +<p>"Try to come yourself," said Faith Winton.</p> + +<p>Angus, as he rode homeward, found himself dwelling on these words.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>AN ENEMY AT WORK</h3> + + +<p>Spring merged into early summer, and Jean came home. Angus met her, and +before they were clear of town he was undergoing a feminine +cross-examination as to Faith Winton.</p> + +<p>"Is she pretty, Angus?"</p> + +<p>"You girls are all alike," he grinned. "That's what she asked about +you."</p> + +<p>"What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I said I hadn't noticed."</p> + +<p>"You're a nice brother!"</p> + +<p>"That's exactly what she said."</p> + +<p>"Well, I like her for that. But is <i>she</i> pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know that a girl would call her pretty. She doesn't dress +herself up like a French wedding and frizzle her hair and all that, but +she's—she's—oh, darned if I know! She looks <i>clean</i>."</p> + +<p>"Clean!" Miss Jean cried. "Well, I should hope so!"</p> + +<p>"I mean clean-run, clean-strain, clean-built, like a good horse."</p> + +<p>"My heavens, Angus, don't tell me she's built like a horse!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be a little fool!" her brother growled. "She's better built than +you are, young lady, and prettier, too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" Miss Jean sniffed. "Well, beauty doesn't run in our +family. Now tell me about Turkey."</p> + +<p>But Angus could not give her much information. Turkey was working +around, here and there, but he never came to the ranch.</p> + +<p>"Can't we get him to come back, Angus?"</p> + +<p>"He can come when he likes."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. But won't you ask him?"</p> + +<p>Angus did not reply at once.</p> + +<p>"No" he said at last, deliberately, "I won't. It's not the fire; I don't +care for that. But we haven't got along well for a long time. It had to +come to a show-down."</p> + +<p>Out of her knowledge of her brother, Jean dropped the subject +temporarily. She asked casually about Chetwood.</p> + +<p>"Did he ever tell you why his remittances had stopped?"</p> + +<p>"No. Of course I never asked. I got the idea that something had gone +bust—that there was no more money coming in. He wasn't actually a +remittance man, you know. He had some money of his own."</p> + +<p>"It comes to the same thing—if he hasn't any now," said Miss Jean. "It +will be a good thing for him to do some work."</p> + +<p>She exhibited no special enthusiasm when she met the young man. Chetwood +in overalls, with nailed boots, hard and brown, differed materially from +the young idler of the summer before, but his cheery good nature was +unchanged. Apparently the loss of his income or capital, or both, did +not worry him.</p> + +<p>The next day Jean rode over with Angus to make Faith Winton's +acquaintance. Angus left them alone to be friends or otherwise. +Returning a couple of hours later, he found that there was no doubt +about their mutual attitude.</p> + +<p>"Why, she's a dear!" Jean declared enthusiastically as they rode +homeward. "Why didn't you tell me what she was like?"</p> + +<p>"I tried to."</p> + +<p>"You said she was clean-built, like a good horse. I told her—"</p> + +<p>"What!" Angus cried in horror.</p> + +<p>"Not that, of course. I told her you were a clam. She said from your +description she thought I was a skinny, little girl in braids and short +dresses."</p> + +<p>"I never said anything about braids and dresses."</p> + +<p>"Did you say I was skinny?" Miss Jean demanded.</p> + +<p>"Well—"</p> + +<p>"Then you did say it. Ye great, long, lummix—"</p> + +<p>"Hello!" said Angus. "That sounds like Mrs. Foley.</p> + +<p>"'And so yez do be th' sister iv that great, long, lummix iv an Angus +Mackay,'" said his sister in startling imitation of that lady. "'Yez do +not favor him, bein' a good-lookin' slip iv a colleen.' What do you +think of that, Angus?"</p> + +<p>"That you're making the last part up," her brother grinned.</p> + +<p>"Not a word, not a syllable. I told her I thought you were a big, +fine-looking young man, and what do you think she said?"</p> + +<p>"I'll bet she didn't agree with you."</p> + +<p>"''Tis yer duty as a sisther to stand up f'r yer brother,' she told me, +'an' I am not mixin' it wid yez on th' question iv his shape. 'Tis true +he's that big they was a good pair iv twins spoilt in him, and he has +th' legs an' arrums an' back iv a rale man; but his face is that hard it +wud make a foine map f'r a haythen god.'"</p> + +<p>"Huh!" Angus snorted. "She ought to look at her own."</p> + +<p>"Heavens, Angus! I believe you're vain."</p> + +<p>"Vain—blazes!" Angus growled. "I suppose I ought to be tickled when an +old she-mick says I look like a totem pole."</p> + +<p>"Like a god!" his sister chuckled. "Don't get sore, old boy. Miss Winton +says she's never complimentary to the people she likes best. She thinks +you've made a hit with the lady."</p> + +<p>"Then I wonder what she'd have said about my figurehead if I hadn't?" +Angus grinned. "I like the old girl, myself, but she sure does hand it +to me. Well, I guess I can take my medicine."</p> + +<p>But Angus had more important things to think about. One which began to +worry him was exceptionally dry weather. High, drying winds sucked all +the moisture from the soil, and with the loss of it the surface earth +shifted and blew away from the roots of the grain. Deprived of this +support, they twisted in the winds, their arteries of life hardened and +withered. The grass crops were poor, short and wiry when they should +have been lush and long. Pallid green instead of dark dominated the hue +of the fields, the worst possible sign to the eye of the rancher. And +this was in spite of the best that could be done by way of irrigation.</p> + +<p>Now Angus obtained the water for his ditch system from a mountain creek +fed by innumerable springs as well as by melting snows back in the +hills. But for the first time in his experience he found himself without +sufficient water. For he had been clearing land steadily, year after +year, without enlarging his main ditch. So far the seasons had favored +him. But now, in the first, old-time dry season for years, he found that +his ditch was insufficient to irrigate his enlarged acreage.</p> + +<p>It was out of the question to deepen or broaden the ditch just then. To +do so would be a task of some magnitude, for from intake to ranch was +nearly two miles. Time had packed and cemented the gravel of its banks, +and further bound them with roots of grasses and willows. Again, to +avoid expensive fluming the ditch wound sinuously around the flanks of +several steep sidehills, and to disturb existing sidehill ditches is to +invite slides, which necessitate flumes. He made up his mind to enlarge +the ditch before another season, but meanwhile he had to depend on it. +So he took every drop of water it would carry. The creek was high, a +muddy torrent, and he set the water gate of his intake so that the ditch +should run rap full, but no spill, and thus cause washouts along its +banks.</p> + +<p>One morning in the gray of dawn Angus awoke. The wind which had blown +all night seemed to have lulled. He heard Gus pass his door on the way +to the stables, but as he was dressing the big Swede returned. He +pounded on Angus' door.</p> + +<p>"Hey, gat oop!" he cried. He stuck his head inside, his eyes round and +goggling. "We ent gat no watter!" he announced.</p> + +<p>"The devil we haven't!" Angus exclaimed. "What's wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Ay be goldarn if Ay know. She's yoost oft. Mebbe dae ditch ban plug."</p> + +<p>"Glom a shovel for me and get an ax and pick and I'll be right with +you," Angus told him.</p> + +<p>Dressing hastily, he struck the main ditch behind the house. It was dry, +save for little pools in which water lingered. They crossed the rear +fence, finding no obstruction, and followed the ditch until it struck +the sidehill section. Then Gus who was in the lead, stopped with an +oath.</p> + +<p>"By Yudas Priest!" he ejaculated, "dae whole dam' sidehill ban vash to +hal!"</p> + +<p>Pushing past him, Angus surveyed the damage. Where the ditch had run was +a raw, gaping wound in the hillside. Hundreds of tons of gravel, earth +and small bowlders had slid down on it. The far end of the ditch vomited +water upon the mass. Even as they looked a few yards of hillside +undermined by its rush came down upon the broken end, blocking the +water. This, backed up, began to pour over the banks of the ditch.</p> + +<p>Left to itself the whole ditch would wash away. Circling the break, both +men took the trail to the intake. The water gate was wide open. The high +water of the creek was hurrying through in a swift flood, far more than +the ditch could carry. They threw their weight on the lever and shut it +off.</p> + +<p>"Who opened it this far on that water?" Angus demanded.</p> + +<p>"Ay ent been near him," Gus replied. "Mebbe dae Engelschman monkey med +him."</p> + +<p>It was most unfortunate. In other years the ditch had carried a full +head without accident. This time, however, it had failed just at the +time when water was absolutely necessary to the crops. The only way to +get water now was to build a flume; and so, immediately after breakfast, +Rennie started for a load of planks, while the others began to get out +timbers to support them, and to clear away the mass of dirt. Chetwood, +it appeared, had not been near the water gate. Somebody, however, had +changed it.</p> + +<p>They dug into the mess, and sank holes for timbers to support the flume. +Now and then a small bowlder or a little dirt came down from above, +where the hill rose sheer above the slip. Gus, looking up at it, shook +his head.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe she come anoder slide an' take dae flume, hey! Mebbe I better put +in leetle shot up dere an' fetch him now?</p> + +<p>"You might fetch half the hill."</p> + +<p>"Yoost vat you say."</p> + +<p>"Well, make it a darn small one."</p> + +<p>So Gus put in a very small shot which brought down a small patch of dirt +and gravel, but did not budge the mass.</p> + +<p>"I guess she ban O.K.," he admitted.</p> + +<p>It took four days to put in the flume. When water was running once more +and the long, silver ribbons of it were trickling down the length of the +fields giving fresh life to the grain which, even in that short time was +yellowing with the drouth, Angus heaved a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"Thank the Lord that's done," he observed.</p> + +<p>"If we couldn't have put her in we'd have had a hundred years of dry +weather," Rennie grumbled. "But now, of course, she'll rain."</p> + +<p>That night, as if to make his prediction good, thunder-heads rose above +the ranges and lightning was splitting the back of the southwest sky. +But all that came of it was a heavy wind, though some time in the night +Angus was awakened by what he thought was a heavy roll of thunder. But +as he emerged from the house in the early morning the sky was clear and +the day seemed to promise more heat than ever.</p> + +<p>Thankful that he had water anyway, he stood for a moment cleaning his +lungs with big draughts of mountain air; but as he stood he seemed to +miss something which was or should have been a part of that +early-morning stretch and breath. Puzzled for an instant he would not +tell what was missing. And then he knew. He could not hear the gurgle of +water in the ditch which ran beside the house.</p> + +<p>He reached it in two jumps. It was dry. For a moment he stood +contemplating it, and then started on a run for the flume. There his +worst fears were verified. There was no flume. The hanging section of +sidehill above it which Gus' shot had failed to shake, had fetched away +and swept the structure out of existence. The only evidence of it was a +few ends of planks and timbers sticking up at crazy angles. All the work +and a great deal more was to do over again.</p> + +<p>Angus stood scowling at the wreck. His crops needed water very, very +badly, and this time, to judge from appearances, it would take a week to +make repairs. If the dry weather continued that would mean practical +ruin to his crop.</p> + +<p>But standing there would not help matters and time was precious. As soon +as he had shut off the water he returned to the house, and after +breakfast all hands tackled the job.</p> + +<p>It was harder than before. Much earth and loose rock had to be moved. +The morning was hot, breathless. As the sun gained power the sidehill +absorbed its rays and threw off a baking heat. Chetwood, unused to such +work, puffed and gasped, but stuck to it. Angus and Gus labored +steadily, without respite. But Rennie after a while leaned on his shovel +and stared up at the raw earth above.</p> + +<p>"Where'd you put in that shot, Gus, when you was tryin' to shake her?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>Gus told him, and soon after he abandoned his shovel and climbing around +the track of the slide he got above it. There he poked around for some +time. Coming down he beckoned to Angus.</p> + +<p>"How long do you s'pose it'll take to put in this flume?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"Maybe a week."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh! And then s'pose she goes out again?"</p> + +<p>"What's the use of supposing that?" Angus demanded irritably, for his +hard luck was getting on his nerves. "What the devil are you croaking +for? I've got troubles enough."</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to give you more," Rennie told him. "Look a-here!" He +exhibited four or five small stones with fresh, yellow earth still +clinging to them, and a piece of broken root. "What do you think of this +lay-out?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Angus frowned at the junk impatiently. The stones came from the layer of +like stuff which lay beneath most of the land in the district. The root +was fir, old, resinous, so that it had not rotted with the tree it had +once helped to anchor, and apparently it was freshly broken off and +twisted.</p> + +<p>"I've been shoveling stuff like that for hours," he said. "What about +it?"</p> + +<p>"Quite a bit. You seen me nanitchin' round up there, and I s'pose you +damned me for a lazy cuss. Well, up there's where I find them things."</p> + +<p>"You could have found plenty of them without climbing."</p> + +<p>"But I'm tellin' you I found these here <i>above</i> the slide."</p> + +<p>Angus stared at him, slowly taking in his meaning.</p> + +<p>"Above it!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"That's what I said. Up hill from the slide. Slide stuff never runs up +hill. This stuff was <i>blown</i> there."</p> + +<p>"Gus put in a little shot—"</p> + +<p>"Near a week ago. The dirt on these rocks ain't dry yet. Same with the +wood. They ain't been lyin' out in the sun no time at all. All Gus did +was to put in a little coyote hole, and she blew straight out. This +shot was above, and when she blew she ripped the whole sidehill loose. +Mebbe there was more than one shot. I'll bet I heard it, and thought it +was thunder. Anyway, all this stuff was above where the slide started. +And that's what made the first slide, too. It wasn't water. Some son of +a gun shot the ditch."</p> + +<p>Angus turned the bits of evidence over in his hands, frowning.</p> + +<p>"Who would do a trick like that?"</p> + +<p>"You can come as near guessin' as I can."</p> + +<p>Angus shook his head. Nobody, so far as he knew, would deliberately cut +off his water. And yet, according to this silent but conclusive +evidence, somebody had done so. The repairs had been wrecked as soon as +completed. They might be wrecked again. It gave him a strange, +uncomfortable feeling, akin to that of a mysterious presence in the +dark. Also it moved him to deep, silent anger.</p> + +<p>"I would give a good deal to know," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Nobody hangin' round lately that I've noticed. But somebody was keepin' +case all right, 'cause we only got water a few hours. And I'll tell you +somethin' else: When we get the flume pretty near in again I'm keepin' +case myself."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>WATCHING</h3> + + +<p>It took nine days to complete the flume a second time, and all hands +were dog-tired. All the time the heat had continued and the hot winds +were constant. The ranch had suffered badly. Irreparable damage had been +done. The grain was stunted, yellow. There would not be half a crop.</p> + +<p>These things bit into the soul of Angus Mackay as he labored fiercely, +pitting his strength and endurance against relentless time. He could get +no clew, no inkling of the person responsible for the trouble.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon of the day when the flume was completed, Rennie was +absent. After supper he sought Angus.</p> + +<p>"I went across the creek this afternoon," he said, "and I clumb up onto +that hill across where we was workin'. There was somebody there across +the gulch from me. Course I went down and over, but he'd gone. Found +where his horse had been standin' on top of the hill."</p> + +<p>"You couldn't tell who it was?"</p> + +<p>"No. I don't think he seen me. But whoever it was, was sizin' up the +flume. I'm goin' to take my blankets and camp alongside it for some +nights."</p> + +<p>"So will I," Angus said. "If I can find out who is doing this, Dave, I +will handle them myself. I will not bother about the law."</p> + +<p>A little spark lit in Dave Rennie's mild, blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Sure; best way," he agreed. "Things was a darn sight better and safer +and less skunks and sharks when every gent packed his own law below his +belt. Law don't give you no action when you want it. Well, let's get +organized."</p> + +<p>Angus had told Jean nothing of his suspicions as to the destruction of +the flume. But now it was necessary. She listened, wide-eyed.</p> + +<p>"But who would do it, Angus?"</p> + +<p>"If I knew," he replied, "I would be hunting him now."</p> + +<p>Jean looked at her big, swarthy brother, noting the grim line of his +mouth, the smouldering anger in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't get into any trouble, Angus."</p> + +<p>"It will be somebody else that will get into trouble if I find him."</p> + +<p>"But if you can avoid—"</p> + +<p>"I will avoid nothing," he told her sharply. "Let others do that. I have +never injured a man in my life, of my own will, and nobody shall injure +me and get away with it."</p> + +<p>Going into Rennie's room he saw his blankets on the floor ready for +rolling. On them reposed a worn gun-belt with two holsters, from each of +which protruded an ivory butt. Angus stared at this artillery, which he +had never seen before.</p> + +<p>"Sure, take a look at 'em," Dave said, interpreting his gaze. "I ain't +wore 'em for so long they feel funny now. Time was, though, when they +felt natural as front teeth."</p> + +<p>Angus drew the guns. They were ivory-handled, forty-one calibre, heavy, +long-barreled, single-action weapons of an old frontier model. Though +they had evidently seen much service, they were spotless. The pull, when +Angus tried it, was astonishingly quick and smooth, and in his hands +they fitted and balanced perfectly.</p> + +<p>"Them guns," said Dave, "pretty near shoot themselves if a feller +savvies a gun at all. A feller give 'em to me a long time ago."</p> + +<p>"Some present," Angus commented.</p> + +<p>"Well, he hadn't no more use for 'em," Dave explained. "Tell you about +it some time. What gun you takin'?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Take a shotgun with buck. That's the best thing at night."</p> + +<p>Angus stared at him. In all the years he had known Rennie the little man +had been meek and mild, apparently the last being on earth to exhibit +bloodthirsty tendencies.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to blow anybody to pieces," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, you won't—unless you get to shootin' at mighty close range," +Rennie pointed out; "and then you won't care. Take a double bar'l and a +box of goose loads, anyway."</p> + +<p>An hour later they picked a level spot near the new flume, wrapped up in +their blankets and lit pipes. But soon Angus dozed.</p> + +<p>"Go to sleep," said Rennie. "I'll wake you after a while."</p> + +<p>Angus went to sleep instantly and gratefully. He woke some hours later +with Rennie's hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"It'll be light in two hours, and I'm pinchin' myself to keep awake. +You're awake for sure, are you? All right."</p> + +<p>He settled himself in his blankets, sighed and slept like a tired dog. +Angus sat up. The night which had been bright with stars was now +overcast and a wind was blowing. He could hear it straining through the +tree tops and booming back in the hills. The creek roared and brawled +noisily. A couple of horned owls hooted at their hunting in the timber. +There were noises close at hand; the faint, intermittent gurgle of +water, little rustlings of grasses and leaves, the occasional scurry of +tiny feet, the buzz and click of insects. He had a hard job to fight off +sleep. But suddenly a sound which did not blend with the natural voices +of the night drove every bit of drowsiness out of him.</p> + +<p>It was faint, like the clink of metal on stone. While Angus listened it +was repeated. He touched Rennie. Instantly the latter's breathing +stopped and changed.</p> + +<p>"Somethin' doing'?"</p> + +<p>"Listen!"</p> + +<p>Clink, clink, clang! Down the wind came the sound.</p> + +<p>"It's on the next sidehill," said Rennie. "Rippin' the ditch out, or +makin' a hole for a shot. She's a worse hill than this, too." He rose, +shook himself, and buckled on his belt. "We'll hold 'em up. Sneak up as +close as we can, and tell 'em to h'ist their paws."</p> + +<p>"Suppose they don't," said Angus, slipping a couple of shells into the +breech of his gun.</p> + +<p>"When you tell a feller to put 'em up and he don't, there's only one +thing to do; 'cause there's only one thing he's goin' to do, and you got +to beat him to it."</p> + +<p>The ditch, leaving the sidehill with the new flume, crossed the end of a +flat and struck another sidehill. This was brushy halfway to the top, +marking the track of an old slide of many years before. But above it, +where the ancient slide had started, the bank rose sheer, overhanging. +As they struck the flat they heard more plainly the clink of tools.</p> + +<p>"Right under where that old slip hangs," Rennie deducted. "That's the +place 'd make most trouble to fix. It's a darn sight worse than what we +did fix. Now—"</p> + +<p>His words were interrupted by the shrill blast of a whistle from +somewhere above. It was repeated, and from where the sounds of work had +been came the crash of brush. Rennie swore, and a gun seemed to leap +into his hand.</p> + +<p>"Their lookout seen us on this blasted flat!" he cried. "They're +climbin' the hill. If we had any sense—Come on! Maybe we can head 'em +off!"</p> + +<p>They rushed at the steep, brush-covered hill. To their right, but +invisible, others seemed to be climbing also. Suddenly from above a gun +barked, and a bullet drilled above Angus' head and spatted on a rock +below. Again a spurt of fire lanced the night, and another bullet +buzzed, this time to the left.</p> + +<p>Angus had never been shot at before. He had supposed that he would be +nervous if ever called on to stand fire. But actually his main feeling +was indignation that any one could shoot at him. And just as +automatically and unthinkingly as he was accustomed to swing on a bird, +he sent a charge of shot at the second flash of the gun. But a third +shot answered and he fired again, and broke the twelve gauge and shoved +in fresh shells, and started forward, only to be pulled back by Rennie.</p> + +<p>"There ain't no cover ahead. You'll get plugged."</p> + +<p>"But they'll get away!"</p> + +<p>"Well, so'll you," Dave told him; "but if you go crowdin' up without +cover somebody'll have to pack you home. Have sense! And lay down. +You're so darn big you'll stop something if you keep standin' up!"</p> + +<p>Angus dropped beside him in a little hollow, and a bullet droned through +the space his body had just occupied.</p> + +<p>"Told you so," Rennie grunted. "There's one man up there savvies +downhill shootin'. If I could—" The gun in his hand leaped twice so +quickly that the reports almost blended. "Don't believe I touched him. +Outa practice with a belt gun. Dark besides. Scatter some shot around +near the top."</p> + +<p>Angus used half a dozen shells, guessing as best he could. A shot or two +came back. Rennie suddenly turned loose both his guns in a fusillade, +and for an instant Angus saw or thought he saw moving figures +silhouetted against the sky on the hill's rim. At these, he let go both +barrels. Dave, swinging out the empty cylinders of his guns, swore.</p> + +<p>"Darn 'f I b'lieve we've touched hide nor hair. They got horses up +there. What darn fools we was to camp down in this bottom. There they go +now."</p> + +<p>Angus could hear the faint drumming of hoofs over the hill. There was +nothing to be done about it. Disgusted they went back to their blankets, +but not to sleep, and with dawn they returned to investigate.</p> + +<p>An endeavor had been made to tear out the wall of the ditch, and above +it a hole had been started, apparently with intent to use powder. A shot +there would have split off a section of the precipitous bank, and +brought it down, trees and all, into the ditch. Angus, surveying these +things with lowering brow, saw Rennie stoop and pick up something.</p> + +<p>"What have you got there?" the latter asked.</p> + +<p>Without a word Rennie handed him an old, stag-handled jack-knife. Angus +knew it very well. He himself had given it to his brother, Turkey.</p> + +<p>Angus stared at the knife, at first blankly and then with swiftly +blackening brow. He heard Dave's voice as from a distance.</p> + +<p>"Now don't go off at half-cock, Angus. Maybe—"</p> + +<p>"You know the knife," he said, his own voice sounding strange in his +ears.</p> + +<p>"Well, that don't say Turkey was in this. Maybe he lost it, and +somebody—"</p> + +<p>"Quit lying to yourself!"</p> + +<p>"By gosh, Angus, I'll bet Turkey don't know a darn thing—"</p> + +<p>But Angus was not listening. Out of the glory of the sun rising over the +ranges, one of the black moods of the Black Mackays descended on him. +All his life he had struggled against the hardness and bitterness of +heart inherited from his ancestors, men dour and vengeful, whose creed +had been eye for eye and tooth for tooth through the clan feuds of the +dim centuries. Hard and bitter men, these bygone Mackays whose blood ran +in his veins, carrying the black hate in the heart, even brother against +brother. There was even that Mackay of a dark memory—and his name, too, +was Torquil—who after a quarrel with his brothers had slain them, all +four. Old tales, these, handed down through the years, losing or gaining +in the telling, perhaps, but all stormy and full of violence and hate +and revenge. And in all of them there was never one of a Mackay who +forgave an injury. One and all they brooded over wrong and struck in +their own time. With them it was not the quick word and blow—though if +other tales were true they were quick enough with both—but the deep, +sullen, undying resentment under injury.</p> + +<p>As he thought of these things with the black mood upon him, Angus' heart +hardened against his brother. He did not doubt that this was Turkey's +revenge. There was his knife, and he should account for it. Since he had +not been alone he should tell the names of his confederates. And then, +like the bitter, dour Mackay he was, Angus put the knife in his pocket +and turned a grim but composed face to Rennie.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you are right," he admitted, though he had not heard a word the +other had been saying. "Let's go home and get breakfast. And say nothing +at all to Jean."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>BROTHER TO BROTHER</h3> + + +<p>Jean was left in ignorance as to the occurrences of the night. No +further attempts were made to interfere with the ditch; but the flume +itself sagged in the middle by natural subsidence of the loose soil, and +much of it had to be set up again. Angus was sick at heart, for the +damage done by the combination of hot winds and lack of water was +irreparable. Much of his crop would not be worth cutting.</p> + +<p>And this, of all times, was the one chosen by Jean to re-open the +question of Turkey's return to the ranch. She urged Angus to ask him. +Angus flatly refused.</p> + +<p>"He is our brother—our younger brother," Jean urged.</p> + +<p>"If he were fifty times my brother, I would not. I tell you he has worn +out my patience, and I am glad he went. He made trouble enough when he +was on the ranch, and now—"</p> + +<p>But suddenly recollecting himself he broke off. Jean's face was grave.</p> + +<p>"Angus," she said, "what has Turkey done?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he replied sullenly.</p> + +<p>"That is not the truth, Angus."</p> + +<p>"Then whatever he has done it is more than enough. Let it go at that. I +will not talk about it to you or any one."</p> + +<p>"The black dog is on you," Jean told him. "I have seen it for days."</p> + +<p>"And if it is, your talk doesn't call it off," Angus retorted, and left +the house. And that night, being in a worse mood than ever, he threw a +saddle on Chief and rode away to have it out with his brother.</p> + +<p>Turkey dwelt alone in a log shack on the outskirts of the town. Angus +had never visited him, but he knew the place well enough. There was a +light in the shack, and after listening a moment to make sure there was +nobody else there, he knocked. Turkey's voice bade him enter.</p> + +<p>Turkey was lying on a bunk reading by the light of a lamp drawn up +beside him, and his eyebrows lifted as he recognized his visitor.</p> + +<p>"It's you, is it?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I have come to talk to you," said Angus.</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better sit down while you're doing it," said Turkey, as he +got out of his bunk.</p> + +<p>Angus sat down. There was but one room, in which Turkey ate and slept. +The walls were decorated with pictures cut from magazines. A rifle and +shotgun leaned in a corner with a saddle beside them. At the head of +Turkey's bunk hung a holstered six-shooter. The place was tidy enough, +save for burnt matches and cigarette butts which Turkey had carelessly +thrown down.</p> + +<p>"To save time," Angus began, "I'll tell you that this is a show-down." +Turkey's eyes narrowed at his tone, and the old, latent hostility sprang +to life in them.</p> + +<p>"Then spread your hand," he said. Angus took the knife from his pocket +and tossed it on the table.</p> + +<p>"That's yours, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Turkey picked up the knife, surprise in his face.</p> + +<p>"You ought to know it."</p> + +<p>"I do know it."</p> + +<p>Turkey shrugged his shoulders. "All right. Thanks. Say whatever you have +to say, and don't stall."</p> + +<p>"I can say that in a few words," Angus returned. "It is not because you +are my brother, but only for Jean's sake that I keep my hands off you. +Do you get that?"</p> + +<p>"I can tell you another reason," Turkey retorted, his young face +hardening, "which is that I won't let you put your hands on me. You'll +get hurt if you try it. Now go on."</p> + +<p>"I want the names of the men who were with you."</p> + +<p>"What men? With me when?"</p> + +<p>"You know mighty well," Angus accused him.</p> + +<p>"All right, have it your own way."</p> + +<p>"I want their names."</p> + +<p>"Then keep on wanting them," Turkey returned. "If you think I know what +you mean, keep on thinking it. Keep on having your own way, same as +you've always had. Same as you had when you got me to quit the ranch. +Now you can go plumb, understand?"</p> + +<p>"Before I leave here," Angus said, "you will tell me what I want to +know, or—"</p> + +<p>"Or what?" Turkey demanded.</p> + +<p>"Or you will lie in that bunk for a week and be glad to do it," Angus +finished grimly. His young brother's eyes closed down to mere slits.</p> + +<p>"Get one thing straight," he said. "I'll take no more from you now than +I would from a stranger. Remember what I told you about keeping your +hands off me. I mean it!"</p> + +<p>"And so do I," said Angus rising. "No more nonsense, Turkey. Will you +answer my question?"</p> + +<p>Turkey was on his feet instantly. He took a step backward. "No," he +said; "I won't tell you one damned thing. Keep away from me, Angus. Keep +away, or by—"</p> + +<p>Unheeding the warning, Angus sprang forward. Turkey dodged, leaped back, +and his hand shot for the gun hanging by his bunk. It came out of its +holster. Angus swung his arm against it, and it roared in his ear. He +grasped it as the hammer fell a second time, and the firing pin pierced +the web of his hand between thumb and finger. He ripped the weapon from +Turkey's weaker hands and threw it away. Then he lost control of himself +and let his anger have full sway.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Angus swung his arm against it, and it roared in his ear.</i></h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Turkey was a strong, active young fellow, but against his brother's +thews and bulk he was helpless. Angus did not strike him; he poured his +strength in a flood upon the body in his grasp, shaking and worrying it +as a great dog might worry a fox. But as the tremendous handling shook +away the last of Turkey's power of resistance, the door opened, there +were voices, a rush of feet, a hard fist came against Angus' ear, and an +arm shot around his neck.</p> + +<p>With this assault sanity came to him. He caught the wrist of the arm and +twisted it, and he heard a yell of pain. He thrashed himself free, +leaping back against the wall.</p> + +<p>The newcomers were Garland, Blake French, Gerald, Larry and two young +men strangers to Angus. Blake French, nursing a twisted wrist, cursed +him.</p> + +<p>"By ——, he was trying to murder Turkey!" he declared.</p> + +<p>The younger Mackay swayed forward, his face white in the lamplight.</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" he said. "Don't talk damned foolishness!"</p> + +<p>"He was choking you," Garland cried. "Somebody used a gun. The room's +full of powder smoke."</p> + +<p>"If you don't like smoke the air's good outside," Turkey told him.</p> + +<p>Angus stared at his young brother in amazement. He had expected +denunciation.</p> + +<p>"This isn't your put in—any of you," Turkey declared.</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"But—nothing!" Turkey snapped. "Mind your own business, can't you! Who +asked you to horn in?"</p> + +<p>Gerald grinned, a certain admiration in his lazy eyes.</p> + +<p>"All right, Turkey, I get you completely. See you later. Come on, boys."</p> + +<p>When the door closed behind them Turkey dropped into a chair, shoved his +hands into his pockets and stared at his brother.</p> + +<p>"You're a husky devil!" he said after an interval of silence. "What were +you trying to do—kill me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Angus admitted.</p> + +<p>"If you had been just a shade slower," said Turkey, "I would have blown +your head off. So I can't blame you much. Well—what happens now?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," Angus replied. "I'll be going." Getting up he walked to the +door, his anger replaced by shame and disgust. At the door he turned. "I +am sorry," he said, "and ashamed of myself. To prove it I will say what +I never thought to say, meaning it: Will you come back to the ranch? +Jean wants you. Maybe we can make a fresh start."</p> + +<p>Turkey stared at him in amazement for a moment.</p> + +<p>"You didn't come here to say that, did you?"</p> + +<p>"No," Angus admitted. "But Jean wanted me to."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jean!" said the younger man. "I get on with Jean all right. But +you're doing it not because Jean wants you to, but to square yourself +with yourself. You always were a sour, proud devil, so I know what it +costs you. I won't crowd you, though. I'm getting along all right this +way, and so are you. No, I won't go back."</p> + +<p>"Suit yourself," said Angus. Turkey nodded.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't go back on a bet. Some day you can buy out my share of the +ranch cheap—that is if I have any share. That's up to you."</p> + +<p>"When I can afford it, I will pay you what your share is worth," Angus +told him. "Father left me all he had, because I was the eldest and he +knew I would deal fairly. I think it would be fair if we took a third +each. That is what I have always intended."</p> + +<p>"More than fair," Turkey admitted. "You have done most of the work. I'll +hand you that much. So when the time comes, split my third two ways. +I'll take one, and you and Jean can take the other."</p> + +<p>"You can do what you like with your share," Angus told him, "but of +course I will not touch one cent of it. Meanwhile the ranch is +increasing in value."</p> + +<p>"I know all that," Turkey replied. "Don't tell me you're working for +me."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you this," said Angus, "anything that injures the ranch +injures you."</p> + +<p>Turkey eyed him for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well—remember it."</p> + +<p>"I'll try," said Turkey. "We don't get along well together. Best way is +not to be together. So after this you keep plumb away from me, and I'll +keep away from you. Does that go?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Angus. "And mind you keep to that, you and your friends. Let +me alone, and let the ranch alone!"</p> + +<p>Turkey stared at him, frowning, and half opened his mouth in question, +but let it go unuttered. Without another word Angus left him and rode +home through an overcast night. As he turned in at the ranch gate a drop +struck his hand. As he stabled Chief it began to rain softly and +steadily. Angus Mackay turned his face to the sky, and out of the +bitterness of his heart cursed it and the rain that had come too late.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>FAITH'S FARM</h3> + + +<p>Angus was riding fast for Faith Winton's ranch. Rain had fallen steadily +for two days, and was still falling. The hills were veiled to their +bases in low clouds. Mists hung everywhere, rising from little lakes, +hanging low over the bottoms, clinging to the tree-tops of the +benchlands. The rain would do good, undoubtedly, but it could not repair +the damage of the drouth.</p> + +<p>Angus had not seen Faith for a fortnight. As he rode, head down against +the rain, half unconsciously he began to picture unimportant details. Of +course, on such a beastly day, she would be at home. There would be an +open fire, and perhaps music. Music and an open fire! The combination +suited him. Perhaps—</p> + +<p>A live bomb landed beneath Chief's feet with an explosion of barking. +The big horse, taken by surprise, bounded and kicked. And as Angus +caught him hard with the rein and a word picked at random from a +vocabulary suited to the comprehension of western horses, he saw Faith +Winton.</p> + +<p>She was cased against the rain in a long slicker, and a tarpaulin hat +protected her fair head. Beneath the broad brim of it her face, rosy and +clear-skinned, laughed up at him as he brought Chief up with a +suddenness which made his hoofs cut slithering grooves in the slop.</p> + +<p>"Jehu, the son of Nimshi, rideth furiously. Also he useth vain words to +his steed."</p> + +<p>Angus reddened, for a man's remarks to his horse are in the nature of +confidential communications.</p> + +<p>"I didn't see you," he said, dismounting beside her.</p> + +<p>"Melord of many acres honors the poor ranch maiden. Methought he had +forgotten her existence."</p> + +<p>"You know better than that."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps I do. I hope your flume is all right now. But of course +this rain—"</p> + +<p>He did not undeceive her.</p> + +<p>"I never expected to see you out on a day like this."</p> + +<p>"Like this? Why, I never could stay in, on a rainy day. I must get out. +Good for the complexion."</p> + +<p>"I can see the complexion part of it. I wonder if you know how becoming +that slicker hat is?"</p> + +<p>She laughed up at him. "Of course I know. Do you think I'd wear it if I +didn't?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw one on a girl before."</p> + +<p>"No? They're supposed to be purely masculine, I know." She cocked the +hat on one side and sang:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If it be a girl she shall wear a golden ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if it be a boy he shall fight for his king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his tarpaulin hat, and his coat of navy blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall pace the quarter-deck as his daddy used to do."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Her rich contralto rang down the misty aisles beneath the dripping firs.</p> + +<p>"Fine!" Angus applauded. "That's a great old song." She nodded and swung +into the old, original refrain, her voice taking on the North Country +burr:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O-ho! it's hame, lads, hame, an' it's hame we yet wull be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back thegither scatheless in the North Countree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hame wi' wives an' bairns an' sweethearts in our ain countree—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whaur the ash, an' the oak, an' the bonnie hazel tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They be all a-growin' green in our ain countree."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I like those old songs," Angus approved.</p> + +<p>"So do I. Modern songs seem to me cheap things, written just to sell. +But the old ones—the real, old songs that were the songs of generations +before us—weren't really written at all. Somehow, when I sing them I +feel that I am almost touching the spirits of those who sang them many +years ago." She stopped abruptly. "And now you'll think I'm silly!"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. Spirits! Old Murdoch McGillivray—"</p> + +<p>"Who was he?"</p> + +<p>"A friend of my father's. He had the gift."</p> + +<p>"The gift?"</p> + +<p>"I mean the second sight."</p> + +<p>"You believe in that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he foretold his own death."</p> + +<p>"Not really?"</p> + +<p>"It comes to the same thing. The last night he was at our house he was +playing the pipes, and suddenly he stopped and would play no more. +Before he left he told my father he had seen himself lying dead beside +running water. A week after that they found him dead beside the creek. +What would you think?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Faith admitted. "It's a thin veil, and some may see +beyond." She shivered. "I wish you had the second sight yourself. Then +you might tell me what to do."</p> + +<p>"About what?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Godfrey has made me an offer for my land, and I don't know +whether to accept it or not."</p> + +<p>"Will he give you a fair price?"</p> + +<p>"He offers the price paid for the land and the cost of the improvements +I have made."</p> + +<p>It seemed to Angus that Godfrey French had some conscience left. But it +might be less conscience than fear that the girl would find out how he +had cheated her father. Restitution was practically forced on him if he +had the money to make good, and apparently, in spite of what Judge Riley +had said, he had.</p> + +<p>"I would take his offer," Angus advised reluctantly, for it meant that +he would lose his neighbor.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why? Why, I've always told you you can't make a success of ranching."</p> + +<p>"And I've never admitted it. I'm gaining experience. And land is going +up."</p> + +<p>"Some land."</p> + +<p>"Then why not this? What is the matter with my land?"</p> + +<p>Angus evaded the direct challenge. "The place is too big for you. +There's a lot of it, like that little, round mountain, that's no good at +all."</p> + +<p>"Which is directly against your contention that the place is too big for +me. But if this land is worth what was paid for it, it should be worth +more to-day."</p> + +<p>Suddenly Angus began to wonder what had spurred French's conscience.</p> + +<p>"Why does he want to buy?"</p> + +<p>"Partly, he says, to take a white elephant off my hands; and partly for +Blake."</p> + +<p>"For Blake?" Angus exclaimed in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Blake wants a ranch of his own. You don't believe it?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word of it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Uncle Godfrey is merely inventing that reason. He may have no +other than a desire to take the property off my hands, if he thinks I +can't work it profitably."</p> + +<p>"It seems funny," Angus said, thoughtfully. "If he wants to buy for +Blake he may offer more. I don't think, after all, I'd be in a hurry to +decide."</p> + +<p>"I'll take that advice, and wait. But here we are at the house. Put +Chief in the stable. You'll stay for supper, of course."</p> + +<p>Angus stayed. But all evening he was preoccupied. Again and again he +went over the puzzle. Why did Godfrey French want to buy that dry ranch? +Why had he given a reason which was not a reason? Why had he lied about +Blake? He could find no satisfactory answers to these questions.</p> + +<p>His reflections were interrupted by the unexpected appearance of Blake +himself, and Blake was obviously half-drunk. He acknowledged Angus' +presence with a nod and a growl, and thereafter ignored him, devoting +himself to Faith. His attitude toward her was familiar, and when at his +request she went to the piano glad to escape his conversation, he leaned +over her, placing a hand on her shoulder, an action which made Angus +long to break his neck. But she rose from the piano.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't play any more. You must have some refreshments. Tea, coffee +or cocoa?"</p> + +<p>"Not strong on any of 'em," said Blake. "But all right if <i>you</i> make +'em. Drink anything <i>you</i> make, li'l girl!"</p> + +<p>Without reply Faith left the room, and without invitation Angus followed +her. In the hall she turned fury blazing in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"He's disgusting!"</p> + +<p>"Shall I send him home?"</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't go. I wish he would."</p> + +<p>"I can make him go," Angus said hopefully. "I'd like to."</p> + +<p>"No, no, that wouldn't do. I'll just have to put up with him. Perhaps +he'll be better. Why, there's somebody in the kitchen. I didn't know +Mrs. Foley had a visitor. Why, it's your man, Gus!"</p> + +<p>Gus was established in a chair which he had balanced on its hind legs +against the wall. Around its front legs his huge feet were hooked. A +pipe was clenched in his teeth, and on his face was placid content.</p> + +<p>"Yaas," he announced, "Ay ban purty gude man on a rench. Ay roon dat +rench for Engus, yoost like Ay roon him for hes fader."</p> + +<p>"Ye run th' ranch f'r th' ould man, did ye?" Mrs. Foley commented.</p> + +<p>"Sure," Gus affirmed. "Me and him we roon him. Engus, he don't know much +about a rench. If it ent for me, Ay tank he mek dam' fule out of the +whole t'ing."</p> + +<p>"Gawd, but ye hate yerself!" said his auditor. "If ye know so much, why +ain't ye got a half section or bether of yer own, instid of dhrillin' +along a hired man?"</p> + +<p>"Vell, Ay don't see yoost vat Ay like," Gus explained. "Ay mek gude +money."</p> + +<p>"Who gets it?" asked Mrs. Foley. "Th' barkeep?"</p> + +<p>Big Gus grinned. "Mebbe he gat some. But Ay got a stake saved up. Ven Ay +see a gude rench mebbe Ay buy him. But a faller alone on a rench haf +purty hard time. He needs a woman to cook and vash by him."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" snorted Mrs. Foley. "But, be me sowl, I b'lieve ye're +tellin' the stark, naked trut' as ye see ut. That's all the loikes iv +yez sees in a woman."</p> + +<p>"Soome time," said Gus reflectively, "mebbe Ay gat me a voman."</p> + +<p>"Hiven help her!" said Mrs. Foley piously. Gus surveyed her calmly.</p> + +<p>"If Ay gat a voman," he announced, "Ay skall gat one dat ent no fule."</p> + +<p>"Any woman ye get will be," Mrs. Foley retorted with a meaning which got +past Gus entirely.</p> + +<p>"Vell, Ay don't know," he returned. "Some vomans is gat soome sense ven +dey gat old enough. Ay don't vant no good-lookin' young dancin' girl dat +don't know how to cook. Ay gat me soome day a rench, and a gude strong +voman like you, and settle down."</p> + +<p>Faith smothered her mirth with difficulty. "There's a pointer for you, +Angus!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Foley will murder him now," he returned.</p> + +<p>"Ye have ut down fine," Mrs. Foley snorted, "an' all I hope is that ye +get a woman that'll lay ye out wid a rowlin' pin in life, an' wid a +cleaner shirt nor ye have on now, when yer time comes. An' ut's me +that's lit candles, head an' feet, for foour men already. Though belike +ut's no candles ye'll have to light yer way up or down. Phwat belief are +ye, ye big Swede?"</p> + +<p>Gus scratched his head and pondered.</p> + +<p>"Ay vote democrat in Meenneesota," he replied, "but Ay tank Ay ban +socialist now."</p> + +<p>"Agh-r-r!" snarled Mrs. Foley. "I mean phwat religion are ye, or ain't +ye?"</p> + +<p>Gus scratched his head again.</p> + +<p>"Ay tank mebbe Ay ban Christian," he said doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Ay tank mebbe ye're a Scandahoovian haythen," Mrs. Foley mimicked.</p> + +<p>But the entrance of Faith and Angus cut short her further theological +research. Faith explained her wants.</p> + +<p>"It's for Blake French, Mary," she said. "He's—well, we thought he +might feel better if—"</p> + +<p>"Is he dhrunk, bad scran till him?"</p> + +<p>"Half," Angus nodded.</p> + +<p>"Then, instid of feedin' him why don't ye t'run him out?"</p> + +<p>"I'd be glad to, but—"</p> + +<p>"No, no," Faith broke in, "he may be better—"</p> + +<p>"A bad actor an' a raw wan is that same lad," Mrs. Foley announced with +conviction, "an' comin' around here too much. I am not yer mother, but +if I was—"</p> + +<p>"Please, Mary!" Faith cried, her cheeks scarlet.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," Mrs. Foley observed, "coffee an' pickles is th' best thing +f'r him, barrin' p'ison. Go yer ways, an' I'll bring ut in whin ready."</p> + +<p>They returned to the living room and the society of Blake. He met them +with a scowl. He chose to interpret the fact that he had been left alone +in the light of an insult. He was surly, glaring at Angus. The coffee, +cold meat and pickles which presently appeared did not change his mood. +The liquor dying in him left a full-sized grouch as a legacy.</p> + +<p>Angus ignored his attitude. Faith tried to make conversation, but it was +a failure. Time passed and it grew late. Apparently Blake was waiting +out Angus. The latter did not know what to do, but he had no intention +of leaving Blake behind him. Finally, however, he was forced to make a +move. He bade Faith good night. She turned to Blake.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Blake."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not going yet," he announced.</p> + +<p>"It's late, Blake, and I'm tired."</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, please. Come to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"No, I'll talk to you to-night."</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, Blake."</p> + +<p>"Well, you will," Blake declared with an oath. "Trying to get rid of me, +are you? And I suppose this Mackay—"</p> + +<p>"That will do now," Angus interrupted. "Be careful what you say."</p> + +<p>"Say!" Blake roared, his temper getting the better of his prudence, +"I'll say what I like. What business have you hanging around here? It's +time—"</p> + +<p>"It's time you went," Angus told him, "and you're going, do you savvy? +Come along, or I'll take you."</p> + +<p>"You—" Blake began, but got no further, for Angus slapped the words +back against his teeth and caught him by wrist and collar.</p> + +<p>The struggle was short and sharp. A couple of chairs went over. And then +Angus got his grip.</p> + +<p>"Give him th' bummer's run!" shrieked Mrs. Foley from the door.</p> + +<p>"Open the front door!" Angus commanded Gus.</p> + +<p>When it was open he shot Blake through with a rush and outside released +him.</p> + +<p>"Now, Blake French, I want to tell you something," he said. "You have a +dirty tongue in your head. See that you keep it between your teeth, and +mind that never again do you come here drunk. For as sure as you do and +I hear of it, I will break half the bones in your body. Is that plain +enough for you?"</p> + +<p>Blake swore deeply. "I'll get you for this," he threatened.</p> + +<p>"Then get me right," said Angus, "for the next time I lay my hands on +you I will break you. Remember that."</p> + +<p>Riding homeward beside Gus he thought over the events of the evening. It +seemed fated that he should lock horns with Blake. He regretted that he +had not thrown him out sooner. For the latter's threat he did not care +at all. As he looked at it Blake had not enough sand to make his words +good.</p> + +<p>"Ay tank," said Gus, "dat faller, Blake, he'd do purty dirty trick."</p> + +<p>"Maybe."</p> + +<p>Gus was silent for a mile.</p> + +<p>"Dat's purty fine voman," he announced.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Angus agreed absently, "Miss Winton is a fine girl."</p> + +<p>"Ay ent mean her," said Gus; "Ay mean dae Irish voman."</p> + +<p>Angus grinned in the darkness. "Sure," he said, "she's a fine, strong +woman."</p> + +<p>Gus sighed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>A DEMAND AND AN ANSWER</h3> + + +<p>A few days after the episode with Blake, Angus busy in his workshop +ironing a set of whiffletrees, had a visit from Godfrey French. French +made the reason of it plain at once.</p> + +<p>"You know," he said, "that I have offered to buy my niece's land. She +doesn't want to sell, and in that I am under the impression that she is +acting on your advice? Is that so?"</p> + +<p>"At first I advised her to sell," Angus told him, "but when I thought it +over it seemed to me she shouldn't be in a hurry."</p> + +<p>French studied him for a moment. "What made you alter your advice?"</p> + +<p>"It doesn't pay to be in too much of a hurry to sell."</p> + +<p>"And sometimes it doesn't pay to refuse a fair offer. Now I was always +opposed to this foolish idea of hers that she could ranch, but I +couldn't prevent her doing it. I made up my mind, however, that she +should not lose by her play; that is that I would take the place off her +hands at cost, plus whatever she had spent on improvements, providing +these were not too expensive. I can do that now, but I can't pay for +more improvements, because I am not a rich man, and I can't keep the +offer open indefinitely. She must make her choice now. And so, as she +seems to rely on your opinion, I come to you. I hope you will persuade +her to take my offer and give up the absurd idea of ranching."</p> + +<p>Angus thought as rapidly as he could.</p> + +<p>"She told me you wanted to buy the place for Blake."</p> + +<p>French gave him a swift, keen glance of scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"And you didn't believe it?"</p> + +<p>"No," Angus admitted, "I didn't."</p> + +<p>French laughed. "And not believing it you drew the natural conclusion +that I had some other motive. Well, I will be quite frank with you: If I +had said I wanted to buy merely to take the property off her hands she +would not have allowed me to do it. But what I said about Blake is +partly true. I don't know that he himself wants to ranch—but I want him +to settle down. So that is the situation."</p> + +<p>Once more Angus did some swift thinking.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to say about it," he admitted frankly.</p> + +<p>French's eyes narrowed a trifle in suspicion.</p> + +<p>"Do you think she can succeed—make the ranch pay eventually?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Do you think the land is worth more than I have offered?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know why it should be."</p> + +<p>"Then why not advise her to get rid of it?"</p> + +<p>"Because," Angus told him, "there are some things I don't understand at +all."</p> + +<p>"For instance?"</p> + +<p>"Well, in the first place the price her father paid was much more than +the land was worth at the time."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't that make my offer all the fairer?"</p> + +<p>"I don't understand how it was paid at all. The land wasn't worth half +of it then."</p> + +<p>"That is a matter of opinion."</p> + +<p>"There is no opinion about it. It's a matter of fact. Just as good land +could have been bought for two or three dollars an acre. And yet you +invested Winton's money in this at ten dollars."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, but I did nothing of the sort. Winton had seen the land, +wanted it, and was looking for something to hold for years. As a matter +of fact, I advised him not to buy, because I considered the land too far +back to be readily salable if he ever wished to dispose of it. But he +instructed me to buy at the price at which it was held. I can show you +his letter to that effect."</p> + +<p>As this was entirely different from Faith's version, Angus was taken +aback. "But," he said, "last fall Braden tried to sell part of it to +Chetwood. How could he do that when it wasn't his?"</p> + +<p>"I told Braden to try to sell it, because the sale, if it had gone +through, would have given her in cash a large part of her father's +investment, and no doubt she would have ratified it. I thought and still +think it was the best thing that could be done. I understand that you +were responsible for that sale falling through."</p> + +<p>"It's a dry ranch, except for the spring."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! There's a water record."</p> + +<p>"That record is more nonsense. You ought to know that if you are +thinking of buying the place for Blake."</p> + +<p>"I take that risk when I offer to purchase."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Angus admitted, "and that's another thing I don't understand."</p> + +<p>French's gray brows drew together for an instant.</p> + +<p>"If it is in my interest not to buy isn't it in my niece's interest to +sell?"</p> + +<p>"It looks like it," Angus admitted, "but still I don't understand—"</p> + +<p>"What?" Godfrey French demanded as Angus paused. "I have explained as +well as I can. Do you mean that my explanations are not satisfactory?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps."</p> + +<p>"In what particular?"</p> + +<p>"They don't seem to explain."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" Godfrey French rasped. "Do you mean that you +question the truth of my words?" He frowned at Angus angrily.</p> + +<p>"You are putting words into my mouth," Angus replied. "But I mean just +this: The land was worth only about a quarter of what was paid for it. +You and Braden both knew it. If you had told Winton that, he wouldn't +have paid what he did unless he was crazy. I wonder why you let him pay +it. Now you want to buy back worthless land, and I wonder why."</p> + +<p>Their eyes met and held each other. In those of each was suspicion, +hostility. French moistened dry lips.</p> + +<p>"I admire your frankness," he said. "Have you told my niece that in your +opinion the land is worthless?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather not say."</p> + +<p>"I insist on an answer."</p> + +<p>"Very well," Angus returned. "I did not tell her, because she would have +wondered what sort of a man you were to let her father load himself up +with stuff like that, and I was not trying to make trouble."</p> + +<p>Godfrey French's fists clenched. "Thirty years ago," he said, "for that +you should have proved to me what sort of a man <i>you</i> were."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't help your age," Angus retorted. "I would not have told +you, but you would have it."</p> + +<p>"There are some things," said Godfrey French, "which it seems you do not +understand. But understand this very clearly. Hereafter you will keep +your nose out of things that don't concern you. You will keep away from +me and mine, which includes my niece. Do you understand that?"</p> + +<p>"I hear what you say," Angus returned. "But nobody but herself is going +to forbid me to go to your niece's ranch."</p> + +<p>"I forbid you," said Godfrey French. "I won't have you hanging around +there. I won't have her name coupled with yours."</p> + +<p>"I did not know it was being coupled," Angus said, "and I do not think +it is. But if it is—what then?"</p> + +<p>"What then!" Godfrey French exclaimed. "Have you the consummate +impudence to imagine that my niece would think twice of an ignorant +young hawbuck without birth or education? Bah! You're a young fool!"</p> + +<p>At the words, entirely insolent, vibrant with contempt, a hot fire of +anger began to blow within Angus. With all his heart he wished that +Godfrey French had been minus the thirty years he had regretted.</p> + +<p>"Those are hard words," he said, and it was characteristic of him that +as his anger rose his voice was very quiet.</p> + +<p>"True words," Godfrey French returned.</p> + +<p>"At any rate," Angus told him, "I make a clean living by hard work."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose you think 'A man's a man for a' that,'" Godfrey French +sneered. "Don't give me any rotten nonsense about democracy and +equality."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to," Angus replied. "I think myself that every tub +should stand on its own bottom. But if, as you seem to think, there is +something in a man's blood, then perhaps mine is as good as your own."</p> + +<p>"Fine blood!" Godfrey French commented with bitter irony. "Wild, hairy +Highlanders, caterans and reivers for five hundred years!"</p> + +<p>"Ay," Angus Mackay agreed with a grim smile, "and maybe for five hundred +years back of that. But always pretty men of their hands, good friends +and bad enemies, and ill to frighten or drive." Then, following the +custom of his blood, he returned insult for insult. He launched it +deliberately, coldly. "And it is not claiming much for the blood of a +Mackay to say it is as good as that which comes from any shockheaded +kernes spawned by a Galway bog."</p> + +<p>White to his twitching lips, Godfrey French struck him in the face. +Angus caught his hand, but made no attempt to return the blow.</p> + +<p>"I think you had better go," he said. "You have too many years on your +head for me."</p> + +<p>Godfrey French stepped back.</p> + +<p>"That is my misfortune," he said. "Well—I have sons. Remember what I +told you, young man."</p> + +<p>"I will remember," Angus said, "and I will do as I please. If your sons +try to make your words good they will find a rough piece of road."</p> + +<p>He watched Godfrey French drive away, and turned back to his work. But +presently he gave it up, sat down and stared at vacancy. For an hour he +sat, and was aroused from his brown study by Jean.</p> + +<p>"I've called and called you," she told him.</p> + +<p>"For what?"</p> + +<p>"For supper, of course. Heavens, Angus, what's wrong that you forget +your meals?"</p> + +<p>He did not answer for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I have been making up my mind about something."</p> + +<p>"About what?"</p> + +<p>"Just something I am going to do. I will tell you later."</p> + +<p>He ate supper, and immediately saddled Chief and rode away in the +direction of Faith Winton's ranch.</p> + +<p>Faith listened in amazement as he told her of the high price her father +had paid; of the abortive sale and his discovery that the land was +non-irrigable; and finally of French's request that he should advise her +to sell.</p> + +<p>"But why didn't you tell me these things before?"</p> + +<p>"I could not very well tell you while you were under his roof."</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not. You are sure of what you say—that the land could +have been bought for so much less then, and that I can't get water on it +now?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely."</p> + +<p>"Then why does he want to buy the ranch now?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew."</p> + +<p>"I am going to find out before I sell it. He lied about Blake, and I +don't believe he just wants to take it off my hands. There is some other +reason."</p> + +<p>"I think so myself, but I don't know what it is. There is something else +though. We had a few hard words, and the upshot of the whole thing was +that he forbade me to have anything to do with him or his. I suppose he +has that right. But also he forbade me to come here."</p> + +<p>The girl stared at him, amazed.</p> + +<p>"Is he crazy? He has no right—"</p> + +<p>"So I told him."</p> + +<p>"And you will always be welcome, while the ranch is mine, or beneath any +roof that is mine."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said simply.</p> + +<p>"But this is beyond everything!" she flamed indignantly. "I am not a +child. I make my own friends. I will tell him—"</p> + +<p>"He is an old man. Pay no attention to it. I am sorry, now, that I said +to him what I did."</p> + +<p>"What did you quarrel about? Tell me!"</p> + +<p>"About the whole thing, I think."</p> + +<p>"Then it was all on my account. From first to last, I've made trouble +for you. I am sorry."</p> + +<p>"You needn't be. All the trouble you have made me is a joy."</p> + +<p>"Why—Angus!" The color rose in the girl's cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you know it?"</p> + +<p>"I know you have been very—good—to me."</p> + +<p>"You have known more than that," he said.</p> + +<p>"No, good heavens, no! Angus—"</p> + +<p>"I have only known it myself since that day in the rain," he +interrupted. "Before that, I thought I was only helping you, as I would +have helped any woman—or man, either. But then I knew it was something +else. And to-day when Godfrey French said he would not have our names +coupled together—"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" the girl cried sharply.</p> + +<p>"And that you would not think twice of a rough, uneducated man like +myself," he pursued. "I decided to find out to-night whether he was +right or wrong."</p> + +<p>"He was wrong!" she cried. "That is—I mean—that you are not rough and +uneducated, and—"</p> + +<p>"I am both," Angus admitted gravely. "I have worked hard since I was a +boy, and what education I have I have got for myself. In that he was +right. And so I find it very hard to tell you what I want to, as a woman +should be told, because words do not come to my tongue easily, and never +did. The thoughts I have had I have always kept to myself, for that, and +because there was no one who would understand even if I could have put +them into words. And this is all I can say, that I love you as a man +loves one woman in his lifetime, and I want you for my wife. Is it yes +or no, Faith?"</p> + +<p>"But—Angus—I never thought of such a thing—not really, I mean. You +were always kind, helpful, but never like—like—"</p> + +<p>"Never like a lover?"</p> + +<p>"Well—no."</p> + +<p>Angus laid his great hands on her shoulders. The ordinary grimness of +his face was lacking. It was replaced by something ineffably tender. +Slowly he drew her to him until they stood breast to breast.</p> + +<p>"I can be like a lover, Faith," he said, "if you will have it so."</p> + +<p>For a long moment Faith Winton's clear eyes looked into his, and then +went blank as she searched her own heart for an answer and found it.</p> + +<p>"I will have it so—dear!" she said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>CROSS CURRENTS</h3> + + +<p>Jean Mackay, rustling through the house with broom and duster after +breakfast, came on her brother reading what at first glance she took to +be a magazine. This gave her what was destined to be the first of a +string of surprises, for Angus never loafed around the house.</p> + +<p>"Shoo! Get out of here!" she said. "You'll get all choked with dust. I +declare I don't know where all the dirt comes from."</p> + +<p>In proof of her words she raised a cloud which made him cough. "Told you +so," she said. "Do go somewhere else, Angus. You're only in my way."</p> + +<p>"In a minute," he replied, frowning at his reading.</p> + +<p>"Where did you go last night—to Faith's?"</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh!"</p> + +<p>"You might have asked me to go along."</p> + +<p>"Huh!"</p> + +<p>"You're extra polite this morning!" his sister observed with irony. +"Whatever are you reading? Well, of all things! A jeweler's catalogue! +What on earth—"</p> + +<p>Angus held it out to her.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, "I know nothing about such things. Pick out a ring."</p> + +<p>"A ring!" Miss Jean exclaimed, astounded. "I don't want a ring, I mean I +can get along without one."</p> + +<p>"That's lucky," said her brother, "because the ring I want you to pick +out is for Faith."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" cried Miss Jean, and fell limply upon a couch. Recovering +herself she rushed upon him, threw her arms around his neck, and +punctuated her words with emphatic hugs. "You big, old fraud. But I'm +glad, really I am. When—where—"</p> + +<p>"Last night," Angus told her. "That was what I was making up my mind +about. I didn't know whether I should ask her just now."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't you? If she cares—"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't that. You see I owe a good deal of money."</p> + +<p>"How much?" asked Jean, who knew little about the finances of the ranch.</p> + +<p>"Nearly ten thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>"What?" gasped Jean. "Impossible."</p> + +<p>"Nothing impossible about it. That includes the principal of the +mortgage father gave Braden when he bought that timber that was burnt +out afterwards. When I had to run the ranch I couldn't pay much +interest, and Braden carried it along. Then of course there was the hail +last year, and the drouth this. And I had to borrow money from him on my +note, to pay something that wasn't my fault, but couldn't be helped. Now +I have just had a letter from Braden saying that the mortgage and note +are past due. I suppose that's a matter of form, and I can make +arrangements with him."</p> + +<p>"And with all that you sent me off to get an education," said Jean +bitterly. "Oh, I wish—"</p> + +<p>"That was a mere drop in the bucket. Nobody can take that away from you, +no matter what happens. Now about this ring—"</p> + +<p>"Do you think you should buy one—now?"</p> + +<p>"I would buy a ring and a good one now if it took my share of the +ranch," Angus declared frowning. "You will pick out one that she can +wear in any company at all. Find out what she prefers, and get one like +it but a good deal better, and never mind the cost. And to save trouble, +you had better order a wedding ring at the same time."</p> + +<p>"Quick work!" beamed Miss Jean. "When <i>is</i> the wedding?"</p> + +<p>"Wedding? I don't know," Angus admitted. "We didn't talk about that."</p> + +<p>"You're going to buy a wedding ring and you don't know when you'll be +married?" Miss Jean cried scandalized.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll be married some time. I always order more repair parts of +machinery than I want, and they always come in handy. So will the ring."</p> + +<p>"Repairs! Machinery! Oh, my grief!" ejaculated Miss Jean. "I suppose you +<i>have</i> a soul, but—Oh, well never mind!" She threw her broom recklessly +at a corner, and her dust cap after it. "Go and saddle Pincher for me, +will you? And you men will have to get your own dinner. I'm going over +to spend the day with my <i>sister</i>!"</p> + +<p>When she had gone, burning up the trail toward Faith's ranch, Angus +saddled Chief and rode to town, taking with him the notice he had +received from Mr. Braden. He looked upon it as a matter of form, and +attached little importance to it. With the undoubted security of the +ranch he anticipated no difficulty in securing an extension.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said to his creditor, "I don't suppose this means just +what it says."</p> + +<p>"It means exactly what it says," Mr. Braden informed him. "The loan is +very badly in arrears, and I have made up my mind to call it in."</p> + +<p>"But the security is good for double the money."</p> + +<p>"Security isn't money. You are away behind. Then there is that note, +past due. I can't let these things run on indefinitely."</p> + +<p>"You always told me not to worry about interest payments."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't look as if you did worry about them. I carried you along +because you were a mere boy, and under the circumstances I couldn't +press for money. But you have increased your debt instead of decreasing +it. I have been easy, that's what I've been—too easy. I can look back +at my dealings with you," Mr. Braden continued with virtuous +satisfaction, "and I can truly say that I have dealt tenderly with +the—er—fatherless. But of course there's a limit."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you feel that way about it, the only way I can pay up is to +get a loan elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"There's another way," Mr. Braden told him. "I make the suggestion to +help you out, principally. If you will sell the place I will take it +over at a fair price, and pay you the difference in cash."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to sell."</p> + +<p>"Think it over. The ranch is saddled with a heavy debt. <i>You</i> are +saddled with more than a young man should be called on to carry. <i>You</i> +are the one who will have to pay, if you keep the ranch, by your own +hard work. You will be handicapped for years, deprived of many things +you would otherwise have. On the other hand," Mr. Braden continued, +warming to his subject, "if you sold this place all debt would be wiped +out, you would have a nice lump sum in cash, and you would be as free +as—er—birds. You could take a year's holiday, travel, or," he added, +seeing no signs of enthusiasm in Angus' face, "you could go into one of +the new districts just opening up, buy virgin land, full of—of—er—"</p> + +<p>"Full of alkali?" Angus suggested gravely.</p> + +<p>"Alkali! Not at all," said Mr. Braden frowning. "'Potentialities' was +the word I had in mind. Yes, full of potentialities. In a new district +you would become prosperous, free from the ball and chain of debt. That +is the sensible course. Now what do you think of it?"</p> + +<p>"Not much," said Angus.</p> + +<p>"Huh! Why not?" Mr. Braden inquired, plainly disappointed at this +reception of his disinterested advice.</p> + +<p>"Because I have a good ranching proposition here. And you wouldn't pay +what the land will be worth some day if I hang on."</p> + +<p>"What will it be worth?"</p> + +<p>"About a hundred dollars an acre."</p> + +<p>"You're right, I wouldn't pay it," Mr. Braden concurred. "Ridiculous. I +would give you say twenty dollars, all around, and that's more than it's +worth."</p> + +<p>"Just as it stands—stock, implements and all?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden looked at Angus, but failed to read his face.</p> + +<p>"That's what I had in mind. But if you were making a start elsewhere and +needed some of the implements and stock—why I wouldn't insist. Say for +the land alone."</p> + +<p>Angus laughed.</p> + +<p>"All right, laugh!" said Mr. Braden frowning. "Go and get a new loan, +then. And don't lose any time about it, either."</p> + +<p>"You seem to be in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"I never delay business matters," Mr. Braden replied. "Get your loan, +and get it at once. Otherwise I shall exercise the rights which the +mortgage gives me."</p> + +<p>"That is plain enough," said Angus.</p> + +<p>"It's intended to be," said Mr. Braden.</p> + +<p>Thence Angus went to Judge Riley's office and told him the situation. +The Judge jotted figures on a pad.</p> + +<p>"To clean up you will want nearly eleven thousand dollars," he said. +"That's a large sum for this country."</p> + +<p>"The property is worth three or four times that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, on a basis of land at so much per acre. But uncultivated land +isn't productive. You have to pay interest out of what you grow. Few +concerns will lend money on raw land. Then you are borrowing to pay off +accumulated debts, and not to improve property, buy stock or the like. +These things have an important bearing. You may have trouble in getting +money. And I think Braden will try to see that you have."</p> + +<p>"What will he have to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Bless your innocence, he knows the loan companies operating here, and +their appraisers. They'll ask him what sort of a borrower you have been +and are apt to be, and why he is calling his loan in, and he'll knock +you as hard as he can. He doesn't want the loan paid off. He wants to +sell you out, and buy the place in. He is still at the old game. He'll +try to work it now by a mortgage sale."</p> + +<p>"But that would be a public sale. He'd have to bid against others."</p> + +<p>"Nobody in this country has money enough to pay a fair price for the +ranch as a whole. That would practically knock out competition. That's +what he is counting on."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't got me yet," said Angus. "It's funny, but old French is +trying to buy out Miss Winton, too." He told the lawyer of French's +offer.</p> + +<p>"Then Braden is putting up the money for French," the lawyer deduced. "I +don't understand it any more than you do, but I do know that neither of +these men would knowingly buy anything valueless. So far as your place +is concerned, the value is there. As to the other it doesn't seem to be. +But I think you did right in advising her not to sell."</p> + +<p>Angus rode homeward thoughtfully. His thoughts affected his pace, and so +when under ordinary circumstances he would have been home, he was little +more than halfway. Chief suddenly pricked his ears, and Angus became +aware of Kathleen French upon her favorite horse, Finn. She seemed to +have been riding hard, for his coat was wet and his flanks drawn and +working.</p> + +<p>"What's the hurry?" he asked. She brushed her loosened hair away from +her forehead.</p> + +<p>"He wanted to run and I let him. I'll ride along with you now."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know that your father wouldn't like it?"</p> + +<p>"This isn't the Middle Ages," she replied scornfully. "These family +feuds make me tired. I have no quarrel with you."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to make trouble for you."</p> + +<p>"You won't," she told him. "I can look after myself."</p> + +<p>They descended a steep grade, which at the bottom made a sharp turn +opening upon a flat through which ran a little creek. As they made the +turn they came face to face with Blake French, Gerald and Larry. At +sight of Kathleen their faces expressed astonishment. Blake uttered an +oath.</p> + +<p>"What the devil are you doing with him?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Riding with Angus Mackay!" said his sister. "I'll ride with any one I +like, when I like. Do you get that, Blake? Pull out. You're blocking the +trail."</p> + +<p>Gerald French laughed. "I thought you were up to something, Kit."</p> + +<p>"That's what I thought about you," she retorted.</p> + +<p>As Angus rode past the French boys, who had not addressed him at all, he +met their eyes. Their stares were level, hard, insolent. He rode on, +half angry and much puzzled. Kathleen lifted her horse into a lope and +he followed. Then she pulled to a walk.</p> + +<p>"The boys didn't like you being with me," he said.</p> + +<p>"Never mind what they like. I'm glad I was in time—" She broke off, but +a sudden light dawned on Angus.</p> + +<p>"What!" he exclaimed. "Is that what you were running your horse for? You +mean they were waiting for me?"</p> + +<p>He wheeled Chief abruptly, but more quickly she spun Finn on his heels, +blocking the back trail.</p> + +<p>"I won't let you go back!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"That was a nice trick to play on a man!" he told her indignantly.</p> + +<p>"And that's a man gratitude!" she retorted bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Gratitude! I know you meant well, and I thank you. But it looks as if I +had hidden behind your skirts, and I am not that kind of a man. I am +going back."</p> + +<p>"You are not. I won't have any trouble between you and the boys to-day. +You said you didn't want to make trouble. Well, then, don't."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to make trouble, but I am not going to run away from it. +If your brothers want to take up their father's quarrel—and I am not +saying they haven't the right to, mind you—I will meet them half way. +I am not going to be hunted by them in a pack. I don't have to be +rounded up. If there is going to be trouble I am going to have some say +about the time of it."</p> + +<p>"And so am I," Kathleen declared. "I will put a stop to this."</p> + +<p>"Men's affairs must be settled by men," he told her.</p> + +<p>"I believe you are all savages at heart," she said. "This will blow over +if you will let it. Whether you like it or not, I am going to interfere. +I blame Blake for this."</p> + +<p>"You may be right. I had to put him out of Faith's house the other +night. He was drunk."</p> + +<p>"Pah!" said Blake's sister in disgust. "I'm glad you told me. He has +been going there lately, I knew. Well, I'll see that he stops <i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>"You need not bother. I will look after that myself. Faith won't be +there long."</p> + +<p>"Is she going to sell? I'm glad of it."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about selling. But she is coming to my ranch."</p> + +<p>"On a visit to Jean?"</p> + +<p>"No, she is going to marry me."</p> + +<p>The girl stared at him. He saw a flood of color rush to her cheeks and +recede, leaving her face white. Her strong hand gripped the saddle horn +hard.</p> + +<p>"She is—going—to marry you!" she said in a voice little more than a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Angus replied, "why shouldn't she? She is too good for me, I +know, but I hope you don't think, like your father, that I am not fit to +marry her."</p> + +<p>Kathleen French smiled with stiff lips.</p> + +<p>"What rot!" she said. "I didn't know my father thought anything of the +kind, and certainly I don't. I hope you will be very happy. When did it +happen?"</p> + +<p>Angus told her, but it was a subject on which he did not care to +enlarge. Where the trail forked to the French ranch they parted and he +rode on. But if he had turned back and ridden half a mile on the other +trail, and two hundred yards to the right behind a thick growth of +cottonwoods, he would have seen a girl lying on the ground, her face +buried in her arms, while a big, bay horse with a sweat-dried coat stood +by flicking the flies and regarding his mistress wonderingly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>CONSPIRACY</h3> + + +<p>On the chance that, after all, water might be got on Faith's ranch, +Angus had his own levels checked by a surveyor. The result was to +confirm them. Thus most of the level land was undoubtedly worthless for +agricultural purposes. As for the rest of the property, it was hill and +coulee and included the round mountain. Angus had ridden over it and +hunted through it and he thought he had nothing to learn about it. He +dismissed it with contempt. The only reasonable explanation of French's +desire to purchase seemed to be that he was acting for Braden and that +Braden had some purchaser in view. That being so, it would pay to hold +out for a better offer.</p> + +<p>So far as his own affairs were concerned, the outlook was not promising. +His loan applications were turned down cold by various loan companies, +as Judge Riley had feared. And one day he received a formal demand for +payment of mortgage and note, coupled with an intimation that, failing +immediate payment, legal proceedings would follow.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I thought this was about due," Judge Riley said when Angus showed +him the letter of Mr. Braden's lawyers. "There are no grounds for +defending the actions, that I know of."</p> + +<p>"The money is owing, no doubt about it. And I can't pay it."</p> + +<p>"Then it will have to be realized upon the security. I'm sorry, my boy. +I don't know where you can raise a loan. If I had the money I'd lend it +to you myself, but I haven't. Braden will get his judgments and sell."</p> + +<p>Angus himself saw nothing else for it. This, then, was the end of his +years of work, of struggle, of self-denial. The land he had promised his +father to hold would be sold and bid in by Braden for a fraction of its +value. For himself, so far as the financial loss went, he did not care +especially. But with it Jean's share would be swallowed up. Without any +fault of his own, so far as he could see, he had failed in his duty to +her. And the thought was bitter.</p> + +<p>As he walked down the street his thoughts went back over the years. He +could not attribute his failure to lack of hard work, to lack of +planning, to lack of care. All these he had given, without stint. The +seasons had been against him, but they had been against others. He had +lost cattle mysteriously, but that was merely an incident. There was the +fire which had destroyed his hay, but his own brother was responsible +for that. Finally there was the ruin of his present crop by the +destruction of the ditch. That was the only definite act of hostility on +which he could lay his finger. But apart from that he could not have +paid Braden.</p> + +<p>If he was to lose the ranch it did not matter who had wrecked his ditch. +Turkey would be hoist by his own petard. Angus smiled grimly at the +thought that his brother had contributed to his own loss. And just then +he saw Turkey going through the door of Braden's office. To Angus it was +as if a searchlight had been turned upon a dark corner, as if a switch +had been closed establishing a connection.</p> + +<p>Up to that moment he had seen no object, other than spite, in the +wrecking of the ditch. But now, as things were turning out anything +which injured him financially would further Braden's carefully laid +plans to obtain the ranch. Might he not be responsible? There, at last, +was motive, the thing he had sought vainly.</p> + +<p>The idea was new and amazing. But once formed it grew in probability. +Would Turkey deliberately lend himself to a plan to deprive not only +Angus but Jean and himself of the ranch? Likely he had not thought of +that. The boy had been a catspaw without knowing Braden's ultimate +purpose. There were others besides Braden in the game. Braden himself +did not do the work of destruction; but no doubt he had instigated and +paid for it. As to these others, Angus made up his mind to settle the +score with them if he ever found out their identity. Never again would +he lay a hand on Turkey. As for Braden—his mouth twisted scornfully at +the thought of the latter's fat body in his grip.</p> + +<p>But Turkey's visit to Mr. Braden's office was with quite a different +object than Angus' interpretation of it. Between Turkey and Mr. Braden +there was little more cordiality than on the day when the latter had +patted the boy on the head. When he had left the ranch Mr. Braden had +extended sympathy, condemned Angus for harshness; but Turkey had been +unresponsive. He looked on family quarrels as the exclusive property of +the family.</p> + +<p>Turkey knew of the mortgage which Mr. Braden held but nothing of its +condition. The burden of financing the ranch had been upon Angus, and he +had not shared it. Nor did Turkey know anything of the further sum Angus +had borrowed. And so Turkey, if he thought of the mortgage at all, +assumed that it was all right. It was Angus' business.</p> + +<p>He heard of the action which Mr. Braden was taking quite by accident. On +the occasion when Angus had seen him entering the office he had gone +there merely with reference to a transaction in cattle in which Garland +was interested. But on hearing that Braden had launched a mortgage +action, he went there to get first-hand information.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean," he queried with a scowl when Mr. Braden had stated the +case succinctly, "that the ranch will be sold?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid there is nothing else for it," Mr. Braden replied in +regretful tones. "I offered to buy it at a fair price, but your brother +wouldn't sell."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't, hey!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden shook his head sadly. "I am sorry to say that the present +condition of affairs is due to his recklessness and mismanagement."</p> + +<p>"Huh!" said Turkey.</p> + +<p>"It would have been much better," said Mr. Braden, "if I had insisted +upon my original view after your father cash—er—was called hence. I +felt that your brother was incompetent, and results have proved it. I +was weak; yes, I admit that I was weak."</p> + +<p>"Then the size of it is, that we lose the ranch?"</p> + +<p>"If my claim is satisfied otherwise I shall be very glad. But of course +I have to protect myself."</p> + +<p>"Who gets it? You?"</p> + +<p>"It will be sold publicly to the highest bidder."</p> + +<p>"Is that you?"</p> + +<p>"I may have to bid it in to protect myself," Mr. Braden explained. "It +is forced on me, and I fear others—you and your sister—must suffer for +your brother's incompetence."</p> + +<p>Turkey, scowling said nothing for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I remember the day you came to the ranch after father died," he said at +last irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>"Um," Mr. Braden returned. "I felt very deeply for you in your +bereavement. You were quite a small boy then. I—er—patted you on the +head."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you then," said Turkey, "but do you know what I thought?"</p> + +<p>"No," smiled Mr. Braden. "I suppose you stood somewhat in awe of me, my +boy."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were a fat, old crook," Turkey announced.</p> + +<p>"Hey!" Mr. Braden ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I know you better now," Turkey added.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, just so," said Mr. Braden with comprehension. "Childish +impressions. Most amusing. Ha-ha! Huh!"</p> + +<p>Turkey looked him in the eye.</p> + +<p>"And now you're fatter and older," he said deliberately, "and I believe +you're a damned sight crookeder than I thought you were then. You +pork-faced old mortgage shark, I'll like to burn your ears off with a +gun!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden gasped. Turkey's voice was as venomous as his words. His +hard, young mouth twisted bitterly as he spoke. "You're damned anxious +to sell the ranch, aren't you?" he went on. "Angus had the right steer +about you. He thought you were trying to put something over. I was a +kid, and he wasn't much more, but we both had you sized for a crook. +Well, we're not kids now. Since I left the ranch I've been hearing about +you. I'll tell you what I've heard."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden expressed no undue anxiety to hear. "I don't know what you +have heard and I don't care. If you can't talk decently, get out of +here."</p> + +<p>"In a minute," said Turkey, "when I've told you what I think of you."</p> + +<p>His spoken opinion caused Mr. Braden to change color from time to time, +but the prevailing hue was red.</p> + +<p>"Get out of my office!" he roared, rearing his impressive bulk against +Turkey's slimness. "Get out or I'll throw you out!"</p> + +<p>"Shucks!" said Turkey with contempt, and dug a hard, young thumb into +Mr. Braden's forward over-hang. "That's the only thing you can throw +out, you old tub of lard. You'll drop dead some day with a rotten heart. +And now I'm telling you something: I guess I can't stop you from selling +the ranch, but if you do, I'll get you somehow, if you live long +enough."</p> + +<p>Turkey, as he went down the street from this interview, was in a +poisonous temper. His was the impotent rage of youth, which failing +expression in physical violence, finds itself at a complete loss. Though +he had said a number of highly insulting things, he was not satisfied. +He told himself that he did not care a hoot about Angus, nor about his +own prospective share in the ranch, which would be wiped out by a forced +sale. But he thought it hard luck for Jean. In spite of their quarrel, +he recognized that his brother had done most of the work for years. The +thought that a pork-faced old mortgage shark should get the ranch that +had been his father's was bitter.</p> + +<p>However, he did not know what could be done about it. No doubt Angus had +consulted old Riley. The law was against him. The darn law, Turkey +reflected, was always against the ordinary man, which was not to be +wondered at since it was made by darn crooks. Coming such, Turkey +unconsciously sighed for the good, old days of stock which had no +special respect for the law, as days when dispossession was attended by +difficulties other than legal.</p> + +<p>Under the circumstances, it seemed to Turkey that he should have a +drink. To get it he went around the block to a hostelry immediately +behind Mr. Braden's office. There he had a drink with the proprietor, +one Tom Hall. Then Tom had one with him. Five minutes later both had two +more with two strangers. Hall took his drinks from a private bottle +which contained cold tea. But four drinks of the kind he dispensed to +customers furnished a very fair foundation. Turkey had nothing +particular to do. Thus the end of a decidedly imperfect day found him +gently slumbering in an upstairs room of Tom's place.</p> + +<p>When he awoke it was dark. He did not know where he was, and did not +care. Being young and in perfect health he had not the traditional +"splitting head." He was very dry, but that was all. He lay still, and +remembered that Tom had helped him to that room, taken off his boots and +told him to sleep it off. Apparently he had.</p> + +<p>The window was open and the night air blew softly upon his face, +bringing with it the sound of voices from the next room. He heard the +scraping of chairs, the pop of a safety match, the clink of glass. Then +the voices became more audible, as if the occupants of the room had +drawn closer to the window. Listening idly, Turkey caught his own +surname. In a moment it was repeated.</p> + +<p>In spite of the adage concerning what listeners are apt to hear of +themselves, and all honorable theories against eavesdropping, the +average person hearing his own name will prick up his ears. Turkey +rolled softly out of the bed, and in his stockinged feet went to the +window.</p> + +<p>It was a rear window, looking out upon the roofs of sheds and the backs +of other buildings. The night was dark and, save for a soft breeze, +quiet. The first words Turkey heard were calculated to destroy any +scruples.</p> + +<p>"I thought the boys were going to beat Mackay up," said a voice which at +first he could not identify. Another voice which he knew for Garland's +replied:</p> + +<p>"They will, later. Blake has it in for him good and plenty."</p> + +<p>"Over that girl on the dry ranch, I s'pose," the other speculated.</p> + +<p>"There's a lot of things."</p> + +<p>"Blake's a darn fool," said the other, and now Turkey knew the voice. It +was Poole's. "He's too fond of women and booze. He's in a mess right +now. That klootch wants him to marry her."</p> + +<p>"She's got another guess coming."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Poole judicially, "if he ain't going to marry her, if I was +him I'd pull out for a while. Some of her folks might lay for him."</p> + +<p>"She hasn't got any folks but her grandfather."</p> + +<p>"At that, some of these old bucks is bad medicine. Well, it's none of +our funeral. When will the Mackay ranch be sold?"</p> + +<p>"Soon as the old man can work it. I wish we could touch him up for some +coin. I'm broke."</p> + +<p>"Me, too," said Poole. "Trouble is we ain't got nothing on him. We +couldn't give him away without giving ourselves away, and he knows it. +We couldn't prove a darn thing, anyway. <i>He</i> didn't rustle them cattle +either time, nor he didn't blow out Mackay's ditch in the dry spell. We +couldn't prove that he even knew of them things, let alone framed 'em up +and paid for 'em. He'd give us the laugh if we tried to hold him up."</p> + +<p>Turkey, leaning out into the night, listened in amazement. So the stock +had been rustled. The speaker could not refer to anything else. But what +was this about the ditch? Turkey made a swift deduction which was fairly +accurate. That was what Angus meant when he had demanded the names of +men responsible for something unknown to Turkey. Somehow, Angus had +connected him with it. It must have been through his knife. That must +have been found on the ground, and Angus had naturally assumed that he +had been there. At this point obstinacy had prevented an understanding, +set him and Angus at cross-purposes, and led to a fresh quarrel.</p> + +<p>Turkey ground his teeth softly and cursed beneath his breath. So that +was the stuff that was being put over on Angus. The "old man" must be +Braden. For the first time, Turkey began to see clearly through the +mists of hurt, boyish pride, to perceive realities undistorted by +youthful grievances. Angus might not have been tactful—but he had been +right. And he, Turkey, instead of helping his own had deserted them.</p> + +<p>In Turkey's inner being sounded the rallying call of the blood. It was +no time for family feuds. If he had been a young fool, he would make up +for it. He would play a lone hand, taking his time, and he would play +more than even. But now he must not lose a word.</p> + +<p>"The old man's pretty darn smooth," Poole went on. "Take that time he +lent Mackay money to make good them bets he was holdin'. That put Mackay +further in the hole to him. It's lucky Mackay don't know who rapped him +on the head and rolled him that night. You get a feller like him on the +prod, and I'd rather take chances on a mad grizzly. You take that kid +brother of his, too. There's a bad actor. You can see it in his eye."</p> + +<p>"He's just a young fool," Garland said contemptuously. "He hates his +brother like poison. I wish he'd blown his head off. There was some sort +of a gun play, I know."</p> + +<p>"And that's what I'm tellin' you. The big man would kill a man with his +hands, but the kid would go for a gun fast and quiet. If he knew he'd +been trailed home that night he was full and the stack fired, there'd be +trouble."</p> + +<p>"If the stable had gone with the hay it would have thrown a crimp into +Mackay. I don't savvy why it didn't go. The wind was right."</p> + +<p>Suddenly the blackness of the back wall of the building opposite was +split by a slot of light, revealing a railed landing on a level with the +second story. A bulky figure stepped out and the light disappeared. Came +the creak of wooden steps beneath a heavy body. Garland swore softly.</p> + +<p>"There he is now!"</p> + +<p>"The old man?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. There's an outside flight of steps from the back up to his room. +I wonder what he's up to. Douse our light for a minute."</p> + +<p>The light in the next room went out and Turkey drew back. His neighbors +evidently occupied the window. From the darkness beneath came the sound +of a badly-hung door rasping on its hinges.</p> + +<p>"There's a shed down there he keeps a lot of old plunder in," Garland +observed.</p> + +<p>A silence of minutes and the door rasped again. Following that came a +series of metallic sounds and once more the creak of steps. The slot of +light of an open doorway appeared again. The bulky figure showed in it, +carrying some heavy object hung in its right hand. Then the door +closed, all but a crack through which a light filtered.</p> + +<p>"He was carrying something," said Garland. "Could you see what it was?"</p> + +<p>"No. Sounded like a milk can or a tin trunk."</p> + +<p>The light went on again in the next room, but the men moved away from +the window, and Turkey heard no more than odd snatches of conversation +which were not relevant to his affairs. Listening proving unprofitable, +Turkey softly opened his door and carrying his boots went downstairs. +Nobody seemed to be about. He went down a hall to a rear door and slid +out into the night. Thence he picked his way through the litter of a +back yard to the foot of the flight of steps which led to Mr. Braden's +apartments, and leaving his boots at the bottom ascended with great +care.</p> + +<p>Turkey had identified the object which Mr. Braden had brought back with +him as a typewriter in its carrying case. To Turkey it seemed +mysterious. Why should Braden who had two perfectly good machines in his +office below, go out the back way and bring in a machine from an old +shed? It was funny. But he had made up his mind to find out all he could +about Braden and his doings, and to start at once. Braden had been +playing a crooked game right along. If Turkey could catch him in +anything—get something on him—it might help to save the ranch. If not +that, it would help him to play even. He put his eye to the crack of the +door.</p> + +<p>He saw Braden and Godfrey French. They were at a table on which stood a +typewriter, and Braden appeared to be signing some legal documents. They +were talking, but Turkey could not distinguish words. Presently French +rose, folded up some papers and put them in an inner pocket. Braden went +with him to the door which was the ordinary entrance to the apartment, +and gave upon a hall and flight of stairs leading down to the office.</p> + +<p>Turkey went down the outside stairs and put on his boots. He was +disappointed in not being able to over-hear their conversation, but he +had heard a good deal that night.</p> + +<p>What would he do?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>WHILE SHELLING PEAS</h3> + + +<p>Miss Jean, spick and span in a cool dress of wash fabric, took a +critical survey of herself in the mirror, and adjusted a wide shade hat +at exactly the right angle. Then, taking a bright tin pan she sallied +forth into the afternoon sun. Her course led her back of the house, +through the orchard, and finally to a garden patch a couple of acres in +extent. There, by a strange coincidence, Chetwood was working among the +plants. At sight of her he paused, straightened his back and leaned upon +his hoe.</p> + +<p>"Oh, are <i>you</i> here?" said Miss Jean in tones of extreme surprise. +Chetwood looked down at his feet, tapped his head and finally pinched +himself.</p> + +<p>"Rather," he announced gravely. "At least my mortal body seems to be."</p> + +<p>"Don't let me interrupt you," said Miss Jean. "I came to pick peas."</p> + +<p>"I'll help you."</p> + +<p>"I don't require help, thanks."</p> + +<p>"You might get thorns in your fingers."</p> + +<p>"Peas haven't thorns!" said Miss Jean scathingly. "You ought to know +that by this time."</p> + +<p>"Observation has taught me that in this world one finds thorns in the +most unexpected places. Even roses—fragrant, blushing roses—"</p> + +<p>"Don't be absurd!"</p> + +<p>"Then let me help you pick peas."</p> + +<p>"But the garden needs hoeing."</p> + +<p>"The bally thing always needs hoeing," Chetwood commented with deep +resentment. "It has an insatiable desire to be tickled with a hoe. What +a world it would be if weeds would die as easily as plants, and plants +thrive as carelessly as weeds. Bright thought, what?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Miss Jean.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say! It's really profound."</p> + +<p>"It's profoundly silly. You had better stick to the hoe."</p> + +<p>"My back is broken."</p> + +<p>"Well," Miss Jean relented, "you may help me if you like."</p> + +<p>On either side of tall vines trained on brush they began to pick the +big, fat Telephones. Now and then, in the tangle of the vines, their +fingers touched, as both reached for the same pod.</p> + +<p>"This beats hoeing," Chetwood announced.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you're lazy."</p> + +<p>"I am. I always was. But to help a girl, especially a pret—"</p> + +<p>"If you are going to be silly I shall go to the other end of the row."</p> + +<p>"'O stay,' the young man said, 'and rest thy weary head up—'"</p> + +<p>Miss Jean promptly picked up the pan and marched to the other end of the +row. Chetwood followed her.</p> + +<p>"They <i>are</i> better here," he said. "It's a genuine pleasure to pick such +peas together." Miss Jean did not reply. "Don't you like to pick peas +with me?"</p> + +<p>"When you talk sensibly I don't object. There, the pan's full. Thanks +very much."</p> + +<p>"And now we'll shell them."</p> + +<p>"I'll take them to the house to shell."</p> + +<p>"Please don't. Here is shade, running water, the company of an +industrious young man. You can't overlook a combination like that—if +you have a heart."</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> nice shade," Miss Jean admitted.</p> + +<p>They sat in it, the pan piled with peas between them, and began to +shell. Miss Jean's hand diving for a pea, encountered Chetwood's and was +held fast.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Chetwood!"</p> + +<p>Without relinquishing his prize that gentleman set the pan aside and +with considerable agility seated himself beside Miss Jean.</p> + +<p>"My full name is Eustace William Fitzroy Chetwood. I prefer the second. +William is a respectable name. Do you know what it means?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know it meant anything."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; it means 'Bill.' I answer beautifully to 'Bill.'"</p> + +<p>"Will—"</p> + +<p>"'Bill'!"</p> + +<p>"Will you please let go my hand?"</p> + +<p>"'What we have we hold' is a good motto. It seems a sound system to hold +what I have."</p> + +<p>Miss Jean sighed. "Then of course I can't shell peas, and you won't have +any for supper."</p> + +<p>"Hang supper! Jean, darling, how long are you going to keep me in +suspense?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not keeping you at all; and you mustn't call me 'darling.'"</p> + +<p>"Are you going to keep me waiting seven years, as Rebecca kept Joseph?"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't Rebecca or Joseph."</p> + +<p>"Well, it doesn't matter; I had the waiting part of it right. I can feel +the strain telling on me, and when I look into your eyes—like this—"</p> + +<p>Here Miss Jean shut her eyes. Chetwood being human did the natural +thing. Miss Jean wrenched her hand away and rubbed her cheek.</p> + +<p>"How dare you!" she demanded with really first-class indignation.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; but like Warren Hastings, I am astonished at my own +moderation. I should have kissed you before. And I am going to kiss you +again."</p> + +<p>Though the prospect did not seem to dismay Miss Jean, she removed +herself swiftly to a distance of several feet, and further consolidated +her position by placing the pan of peas between them.</p> + +<p>"Shell peas—Eustace!" she said. Chetwood ground a set of perfect teeth.</p> + +<p>"You want to drive me crazy, I see that," he said. "You're too dangerous +to be running around loose. You need a firm hand—like mine. Now—"</p> + +<p>What followed was very bad for the peas. Some minutes later Miss Jean, +raising hands to a flushed face and sadly tilted hat, regarded them in +dismay.</p> + +<p>"Now see what you've done!"</p> + +<p>Chetwood grinned. "Will you carry sweet peas?" he asked. "If we are +married early in September—"</p> + +<p>"September!" Miss Jean gasped. "I couldn't think of such a thing, +Bil—ly!"</p> + +<p>"You can when you get used to it," Chetwood assured her. "Like getting +into hot water, you know."</p> + +<p>"It may be a good deal like it," Miss Jean observed reflectively.</p> + +<p>"Eh! Oh, I didn't mean that."</p> + +<p>"I know you didn't, but it might be true, all the same. We can't be +married for a long time."</p> + +<p>"Why can't we?" the lover demanded.</p> + +<p>"For a number of perfectly good reasons," Jean replied, a grave little +pucker coming upon her forehead.</p> + +<p>"Wrinkles!" cried Chetwood. "But I'll love you just as much when—"</p> + +<p>"Well, goodness knows, I've enough worries without getting married."</p> + +<p>"Cynic!"</p> + +<p>"Maybe, but I hope I have some horse sense. Now to start with, +Billy—and please don't be offended—I'd like you to make good, more or +less, before I marry you."</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd like you to have a ranch of your own."</p> + +<p>"Any special one?"</p> + +<p>"Don't joke about it," Jean reproved him. "You'll find it serious +enough. As you haven't any money now you can't buy a ranch. And so +you'll have to homestead."</p> + +<p>Chetwood stared at her for a moment and gulped. "I keep forgetting I'm a +hired man. Go on."</p> + +<p>"It's doing you good. You're getting a knowledge of ranching. I think +you know almost enough now to take up a homestead."</p> + +<p>"But," Chetwood objected, "I'd have to live on the blinking thing in a +beastly, lonely shack."</p> + +<p>"Plenty of good men have lived in lonely shacks."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean that. I meant that I shouldn't see you more than perhaps +four or five times a week. Now—"</p> + +<p>"You may not see me at all. I'll tell you why, presently. Anyway, I +wouldn't let you waste your time. I'm serious. You see, Billy—" here +Miss Jean blushed—"you'd be working on your homestead for—for <i>us</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord!" said Chetwood. "That is—I mean—yes, of course. Inspiring +thought and all that sort of thing, what? But how much nicer it would be +if I were able to look forward to seeing you in our humble door as I +came home weary from my daily toil, with—er—roses and honeysuckle and +all that sort of thing clambering about don't you know, and the sweet +odor of—of—"</p> + +<p>"Of what, Billy?" Miss Jean prompted softly, in her eyes the expression +of one who gazes upon a fair mental picture. "Of what, Billy?"</p> + +<p>"Of pies," Chetwood replied raptly. "Ah! Um!"</p> + +<p>"Of wha—a—t!" Miss Jean cried, coming out of her reverie with a start.</p> + +<p>"Of pies cooking," Chetwood repeated. "Nice, juicy pies."</p> + +<p>"Pies—bah!" Miss Jean ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"Say not so," Chetwood responded. "I admire pie. The land of my birth, I +sadly admit, is deficient in pie. But here I adopt the customs of the +country. I am what might be called a pie—oneer—"</p> + +<p>"Ugh! Awful!" Miss Jean shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Now I thought that quite bright."</p> + +<p>"That's the saddest part of it."</p> + +<p>"My word, what a—er—slam! Strange that you should feel such a sincere +affection for—"</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether I do or not!"</p> + +<p>"Then, Miss Mackay," Chetwood demanded, "what is the meaning of your +conduct?"</p> + +<p>Miss Jean bit her lip, blushed, and finally decided to laugh. "I was +getting sentimental for a moment," she confessed. "Your little word +picture had me going. And all the time you were fooling. That's +dangerous, young man."</p> + +<p>"No, on my word I wasn't," Chetwood protested. "I meant it. Only I got +stuck for a word, and I just happened to think of—pie."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you did," Jean admitted. "What I like about you is that you're +cheerful all the time. Angus sulks like a—a mule. So does Turkey. Oh, I +do, too. We all do. But you always have a smile and a joke, though +sometimes they're awful."</p> + +<p>"Both of 'em?"</p> + +<p>"The smiles are all right," Jean admitted. "But do you know, I've never +seen you serious about anything. And it seems to me that a man who has +a—well, a real purpose in life should be—now and then."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I never had one."</p> + +<p>"Well, now you've got me."</p> + +<p>"Eh! By Jove, so I have. I'll live in a shack if you say so, but I'd +rather stay on here a bit. I'm learning all the time."</p> + +<p>"That brings me to another reason. There may be no 'here' to stay on +at—so far as we are concerned."</p> + +<p>She told him the situation briefly. "And so, you see, we may not have a +ranch at all. Then Angus would go away and take up land, and I might go +with him."</p> + +<p>"So would I if he'd have me. It would be rather jolly."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Jean. "Making a new ranch isn't fun; it's hard work. +And then, on top of it all, what do you think Angus is going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Wring old Braden's neck, I hope."</p> + +<p>"He's going to get married!"</p> + +<p>"Hooray!" cried Chetwood. "Nail the flag to the mast! Derry walls and no +surrender! Give hostages—er—I mean that's the spirit. Also an example. +Let's follow it. What's sauce for the Mackay gander ought to be sauce +for—er—"</p> + +<p>"I'm not a goose," she pouted prettily.</p> + +<p>"Duck!" Chetwood suggested.</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly. It's a different proposition entirely."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Jean did not reply. "Why, Jean?"</p> + +<p>"Because Angus can look after himself—and a wife."</p> + +<p>Chetwood's perennially cheerful expression sobered. "That's rather a +hard one. I'm not quite helpless, really."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," Jean said simply. "But I meant just what I said. The +country is new to you and you're new to the country, and we can't be +married till you find yourself. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. I'm +putting it up to you to make good, Billy."</p> + +<p>Chetwood nodded soberly, but his eyes smiled.</p> + +<p>"I'll make good," he said. "I'll go and see this Judge Riley—about a +homestead. And now, Jean darling, will you oblige me by the size of that +pretty little third finger."</p> + +<p>"You are not to spend any money on rings. Keep it for the homestead."</p> + +<p>"Oh da—er—I mean high heaven hates a piker. Can't allow you to go +ringless. It's not done, really. I'm going to have my own way. Nothing +elaborate. Just a simple, little ring, costing, say, fifty pounds—"</p> + +<p>"Fifty pounds!" Jean gasped. "Two hundred and fifty dollars! Why, I +couldn't—"</p> + +<p>"Does sound more in dollars. Tell you what I'll do. I have a ring at +home. It belonged to my mother. I'll send for it if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"I should be proud of your mother's ring," said Jean.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Chetwood, "that she would be proud to have you wear it."</p> + +<p>"Billy," said Jean, "that's just the nicest thing you ever said—or ever +will say."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>MRS. FOLEY ON MARRIAGE</h3> + + +<p>Faith and Angus were to be married at Faith's ranch. There was small +preparation, to the scandal of Mrs. Foley.</p> + +<p>"Sure I niver thought to see ye go off this way, wid no style about ye!" +she mourned. "Foour min have I tuk, hopin' th' bether an' gettin' th' +worse, but annyways ivery time they was lashin's to ate an' dhrink, an' +all the folks there we knowed an' plenty we didn't. But here ye're +fixin' for nobody at all."</p> + +<p>"Well, there won't be anybody," Faith replied. "It's to be a very quiet +wedding."</p> + +<p>"Ye may say that," Mrs. Foley agreed. "All th' differ' bechune it an' a +death-bed will be a docther an' a nurse."</p> + +<p>"Oh it's not as bad as that, Mary," Faith laughed. "I really prefer it +that way."</p> + +<p>"Bein' a woman mesilf, I know ye're lyin'," Mrs. Foley returned +uncompromisingly. "'Tis not the nacher iv us to dispinse wid frills in +annything."</p> + +<p>Faith laughed, stifling a sigh. She had had her dreams. But she was +quite content. Mrs. Foley ran on:</p> + +<p>"Sure, thin, iver since ye was a little tot I've been thinkin' that some +day I'd see ye comin' up th' aisle in a big church on yer blessed +father's arrum, all in white wid a big bookay an' veil an' orange +blossoms an' all; an' th' organist tearin' th' bowils out iv th' organ +whiles, an' th' choir rippin' loose; an' a foine fat bishop or th' +loikes, wid a grand voice rowlin' th' solemn words out in his chist. +An' aftherwards atin' an' dhrinkin' an speechifyin', an' showers iv rice +an' shoes an' white ribbon be th' yarrd. Thim's th' things I t'ought f'r +to see. An' instid iv that, ye will stand up in privut in a shack in a +neck iv woods, an' have th' words said over ye by a dom', wryneck, +Gospel George iv a heretic pulpit-poundher, that's dhruv out in a +buckboord dhrawed be a foundhered harrse, to do th' job loike a plumber +comes. Well, God's will be done. An' mebbe yer second weddin' will be +diff'rent. Though they's never th' peachbloom on th' second they is on +th' first, worse luck."</p> + +<p>"Mary! what a thing to say!" Faith cried. "There will never be a second +wedding for me."</p> + +<p>"Ye say so—knowin' nawthin'," Mrs. Foley responded. "All wimmin say so +before they're first married, knowin' nawthin' iv marriage; an' half iv +thim swear it to thimselves before they've been married a year, knowin' +too much. But sure 'tis th' nacher iv us to take chances, or we'd niver +marry at all. An' f'r why should a young widdy woman like yerself go +lonely all yer days?"</p> + +<p>"Heavens, Mary, stop it!" Faith shuddered. "Talking like that before I'm +married at all. I'm not a widow; I won't be a widow."</p> + +<p>"I'm wan foour times," Mrs. Foley observed. "An' I've knowed thim that +wud have give their sowls to be wan just wanst. Ye niver can tell."</p> + +<p>"To judge by Angus' looks I won't be a widow for a long time," Faith +laughed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Foley shook her head sagely. "Nor ye can't tell about that. Sthrong +th' lad is, but he's voylent, an' voylent min come to quick ends."</p> + +<p>"Violent? Nonsense! He never loses his temper."</p> + +<p>"All min lose their timpers," Mrs. Foley asserted; "an' th' quoiter th' +man th' bigger divil he is whin he starts. Thim kind is th' worst. It's +not f'r nawthin' he carries that harrd face."</p> + +<p>"His face isn't hard," Faith contradicted indignantly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Foley waved her hand. "I was speakin' in parables, loike. I'm not +meanin' it's bad-lookin' he is, but he's harrd. He's th' kind that niver +forgives wrong or slight, an' it wud shtrain him awful to forgive th' +same. They's a divil lives deep down in him, I'm tellin' ye, that's best +left asleep."</p> + +<p>"Bosh!" said Faith.</p> + +<p>"Ye say that, bein' ign'rant iv min," Mrs. Foley told her gravely. "I +believe he loves ye thrue, an' ut's little th' life iv a man wud be +worth who should speak a light word iv ye, or lay a hand on ye in other +than respect, if he knew it. But take ye heed, my gyurl, niver to rouse +that sleepin' divil an' have him peep at ye through the eyes of yer man. +Niver, as ye value yer station as a wife, give him annything to forgive +in ye as a wife. Forgive it he might, but forget it he niver would."</p> + +<p>Faith, her smooth cheeks aflame, drew herself up haughtily. "You have no +right to speak to me like that."</p> + +<p>"I am takin' th' right," Mrs. Foley replied steadily. "Do I not know ye +for what ye are—a little lady born an' bred, pure-minded an' +high-minded? Ye blush whin an old woman that's seen th' rough iv ut +calls a spade a spade. I wud tear th' eyes out iv man or woman that +spoke ill of ye. But ye are a woman, an' women will be women, and min +min, foriver an' a day."</p> + +<p>"You have never spoken to me so before. Why do you do it now?"</p> + +<p>"Bekase ye are about to take a man," Mrs. Foley replied. "A colleen is +her own woman, wid none but herself to gyard an' care for; but a wife is +her man's woman, an' besides herself she must gyard an' care for her man +an' his love for her. The wise wife will gyard herself closer nor whin +she was a maid, an' she will gyard her man closer nor his mother."</p> + +<p>"Angus may trust me," Faith said proudly, "as I trust him."</p> + +<p>"An' well f'r both iv ye," said Mrs. Foley, "if as ye say now in yer +youth ye do till ye have grandchilder." She wound a great arm around +Faith and drew her to her ample bosom. "There, there, gyurl iv me heart! +Forgive th' rough tongue iv an owld woman wid a long, harrd road behind +her. Th' lad is a rale man, if iver I saw wan. An' as f'r th' divil in +him, I wouldn' give a snap iv me thumb for a man widout wan."</p> + +<p>Whereat Faith, being motherless and in spite of her independence lonely +as well, cried a little and so did Mrs. Foley, and both enjoyed it very +much.</p> + +<p>The wedding took place a few days later. Kathleen French was the only +one of her family present. Turkey would not come, sending Jean an +excuse. Faith had never even seen him.</p> + +<p>There was no wedding trip. But after a few days at the Mackay ranch +Angus began to arrange excursions. So far as he could see, it was now +merely a matter of weeks till the place had another owner, probably +Braden. He had done his best, and he was more or less resigned to the +inevitable. With the resignation a load of worry dropped from his +shoulders. Later he must make a fresh start, but now he would enjoy the +present.</p> + +<p>With Faith he took long rides into the foothills, along faint, old +trails first beaten by the feet of the long-vanished elk, through deep +timber where towering, seal-brown trunks shot fifty feet in the air +without a limb and met in dense, needle-foliage above, and the horses' +feet fell without sound; beside creeks fed by the hoary, old glaciers +which far away glinted gray, and ridged, and fissured, relics of the +ancient ice-cap which once overlay and over-rode the land. To Faith +these trips were a novelty, opening a fresh world new and wonderful. +Incidentally they showed her husband to advantage, in a new light and +her trust in him strengthened.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus3" id="illus3"></a> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>To Faith these trips were a novelty, opening a world new and wonderful.</i></h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>In such surroundings Angus was at home, adequate, competent. His +knowledge of them amazed Faith, though there was nothing at all +wonderful about it, since he had lived in the open all his life and +consorted with men who had done likewise. His camps were always +comfortable and sheltered. He constructed deep beds in which one sank +luxuriously. Rain or shine he was a wizard with a fire and a frying pan, +building browned and feathery bannocks in a minimum of time, the +doughgods he mixed were marvels, his mulligan a thing to dream of. All +was accomplished without hurry and without fuss. She saw the results +without quite appreciating the method.</p> + +<p>Another thing which impressed her was his apparent ability to make the +horses comprehend his wishes. When he spoke to them he seldom raised his +voice. When trouble developed he was infinitely patient; when punishment +was necessary he inflicted it without temper. Faith saw no signs of the +"divil" of which Mrs. Foley had spoken. If he existed at all he dwelt +deep, in the dungeons of the man's being, securely chained.</p> + +<p>It was natural that she should take pride in her husband's physique. His +body was hard, lean, in the condition of an athlete's in training. Her +fingers pressing his forearm made scarcely an impression. Once, as he +bent to heave out of the way fallen timber which blocked the trail, she +placed her hands upon his back. He turned his head.</p> + +<p>"Lift!" she said, and beneath her hands she felt the long, pliant +muscles spring and tauten and harden. On another occasion a bowlder had +fallen upon the trail, partially embedding itself. It was possible to go +around, but he would not. Finally he worried out the rock and rolled it +down the hillside.</p> + +<p>"Heavy?" she queried.</p> + +<p>"Pretty heavy. The trouble was I couldn't get hold of it."</p> + +<p>"Do you know how strong you are?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"Why, no," he admitted. "That is, I don't know just what I can lift, if +that is what you mean, nor what I could pack for say a mile if I had to. +There's a good deal of knack in that sort of thing—balance and +distribution of weight, and the development of a certain set of muscles +by keeping at it. There are men who can pack five hundred on a short +portage. I've heard of eight hundred—but I don't know."</p> + +<p>Faith thought she had known Angus before marriage. But in the +companionship of the trail and beside the evening fires beneath the +stars she learned that her knowledge of him had been superficial. She +found that the country rock of his reserve hid unsuspected veins of +tenderness, of poesy and of melancholy. But though he possessed these +softer veins—and she reflected that it should be her task to develop +them—the man himself was essentially hard and grim. His outlook, when +she came to know it, proved primitive, the code which governed him +simple and ancient—the old, old code of loyalty to friends, and in the +matter of reprisals eye for eye and tooth for tooth.</p> + +<p>"But that is not right," she urged when he had set forth this latter +belief. "We are told to return good for evil."</p> + +<p>Angus smiled grimly. "We may be told to do so," he said, "and we are +told to turn the other cheek to the smiter. That is all very well when +the evil or the blow is unintentional, sort of by accident. But when a +man does you harm on purpose, out of meanness, the best way to show him +he has made a mistake is to get back at him hard."</p> + +<p>"Which makes him hate you all the more."</p> + +<p>"Maybe. But it makes him mighty careful what he does."</p> + +<p>"But don't you see," she argued, "that if there were no such thing as +forgiveness—if everybody paid back everybody for injuries in the same +coin—the whole world would be at feud and at war. We should go back to +savagery."</p> + +<p>"And don't you see," he responded, "that if men knew they could get away +with anything without a comeback the world wouldn't be much better. +There are men and nations who are decent, and there are both who are +not. These have to be kept down. If they ruled, it would be terrorism."</p> + +<p>"There would be the law; there must be the law, of course. That would +protect people."</p> + +<p>"The law has too much red tape about it. In the old days things were +better. Then a man packed his own law."</p> + +<p>"The gun? A horrible state of affairs! Barbarism!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it made men careful. Now you take Braden. With the help of the +law he is going to get our ranch for a fraction of its value. I am not +kicking about that. But he blew up my ditch. I don't mean he did it +himself, but he framed it, though I can't prove it. If it wasn't for the +law I would go and twist the truth out of him, and then I would settle +with the men who did it. And then there's your ranch. I know it must be +Braden who wants to buy that. I'd find out about that, too. There's +something wrong. He's trying to put something over." His fist clenched +suddenly. "The rotten crooks!" he growled. "They've got me. But let them +try any dirty work on <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>Secretly, Faith worried a little about the future, the more because +Angus seemed utterly careless of it. He had utterly refused to allow her +to sell her ranch and apply the proceeds to satisfy Braden's claim. If +he had any definite plans for the future he would not talk of them. With +what money he would have from the sale of stock and various chattels +there would be enough for a start elsewhere. But when and where and how +that start should be made was up to Angus.</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't we be making some definite plans?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I suppose we should," he admitted. "But I've always planned and +worried, and the best I've made out of it all is to land in this mess. +Now and then I've asked myself what was the use of it."</p> + +<p>"But that's no state of mind for a man," she protested. "That's lie down +and quit. You're not that sort, surely?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't think I was," he said slowly. "I thought I had sand and +staying power. But I'm tired. Lord, you don't know how tired I am—and +sore! Every thought I've had for years has been for the old place. And +now to lose it! It sort of upsets me—temporarily. I'm deliberately not +thinking, nor planning. When the place is sold it will be different. +Till then I'm going to loaf, body and mind, for all I'm worth."</p> + +<p>Though she thoroughly disapproved of this state of mind, Faith said no +more. Time drew on. And one night Angus announced that loafing was done.</p> + +<p>"Now I'll get into the collar for another stretch of years," he said. +"To-morrow we'll start back. I want to be at the sale, to see who will +bid the place in."</p> + +<p>"It will be like turning the knife, won't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I can take my medicine. Then I'll sell off the stock, turn +everything I can into cash, fix up you and Jean somewhere and go +cruising."</p> + +<p>"Cruising?"</p> + +<p>"Prospecting for new ground somewhere. The farther away the better. I +want a lot of land—cheap. I'm out to make a stake—to found a fortune +for the Mackay family."</p> + +<p>"You'll take me with you."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Please!"</p> + +<p>"Better not, old girl. I may have to cover a lot of ground before I find +what I'm looking for, and the traveling will be rough. It's better for +me to go alone."</p> + +<p>Faith did not press. She recognized the truth of what he said. But she +realized as they rode down out of the hills what a difference already +his absence would make in her life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>SUDDEN DEATH</h3> + + +<p>Though Godfrey French's habits could not be called studious his private +room was known as his "study," which possibly was as good as any other +name. The furnishings of the room were of comfortable solidity. Since +the room served as an office in which he transacted such business as he +had, there was a desk with many pigeon holes, and backed against the +wall stood a small safe.</p> + +<p>Outside it was dark, and the rising wind was beginning to sigh with a +promise of breeding weather. But in the study, lit by a shade lamp, its +owner and Mr. Braden were comfortably seated. Beside them stood a small +table bearing a decanter, a siphon and a box of cigars.</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden helped himself to the whiskey. His drinking was strictly +private, but he indulged rather more frequently than of old, and in +larger doses. Somehow he seemed to require them. As for Godfrey French, +he took his Scotch as he took his tea, as he had been taking it all his +life, and with no more visible effect.</p> + +<p>But as Mr. Braden looked at French he seemed to have aged in the last +few weeks. The features seemed more prominent, the keen face leaner and +more deeply lined, the cold, blue eyes more weary and more cynical.</p> + +<p>"You look a little pulled down," Mr. Braden commented. "Perhaps a change +would do you good."</p> + +<p>"If I could change the last thirty years for the next thirty, it might," +French agreed grimly.</p> + +<p>"None of us get younger," said Mr. Braden. "I myself begin to feel +the—er—burden of the years."</p> + +<p>"You're not old. It's the burden of your fat."</p> + +<p>"Ha-ha!" Mr. Braden laughed without much mirth. "But what seems to be +the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"The life that is behind me," French replied. "You can't eat your cake +and have it. But what the devil is the use of cake if you don't eat it? +I've eaten my cake and enjoyed it, and I'm quite willing to pay when the +times comes. All flesh is as grass, Braden—even such a quantity as +yours."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden shifted uneasily. Like many men he found any reference to his +ultimate extinction unpleasant.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes, of course we must all pay our debt to nature. No hurry +about it, though. We have a number of things to do first."</p> + +<p>"We merely think we have," French returned. "It wouldn't matter in the +least if we both snuffed out to-night."</p> + +<p>"It would matter to me," Mr. Braden declared with evident sincerity.</p> + +<p>"But to nobody else. Who would care a curse if <i>you</i> died?"</p> + +<p>Offhand, Mr. Braden could not answer this blunt question. French grinned +at the expression of his face. "You don't like to face the inevitable, +Braden. Well, since it is the inevitable it doesn't matter whether you +like it or not." He tossed three fingers of straight liquor down his +throat. A shade of color came into his lean cheeks and his eyes +brightened. "Have you heard anything fresh lately?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden shook his head. "Nothing authoritative. I know the Airline +people are running trial lines east of here. I had a reply to my letter +from the head of their real estate department—McKinley, as near as I +could make out the signature—and he says just about half a page of +nothing."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't want to tip their hand."</p> + +<p>"That's what I think, I know they are coming through here, and when they +do it will kill this town, because they won't come within fifteen miles +of it. Well, in a week or so I'll own the Mackay ranch, and be in shape +to make them a definite townsite proposition whenever they do come. +There isn't a better natural townsite anywhere."</p> + +<p>"No hold-up," French warned. "They won't stand for it. Give them a good +slice if they want it."</p> + +<p>"I'll do that because I can't help myself. It's lucky I've been able to +bring on the sale so soon. You were wrong in thinking it would stop the +girl from marrying Mackay, though."</p> + +<p>"I thought she would have more sense than to marry him under the +circumstances."</p> + +<p>"You've heard nothing about the—er—deeds since you gave them to her?" +Mr. Braden asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"Then I guess it's all right. When I sell out Mackay he'll get out of +the district likely. Just as well. He might find out something if he +stayed around here."</p> + +<p>"He might," French agreed. "He suspects that we split up the biggest +part of the price that Winton was supposed to pay for the land."</p> + +<p>"He can't prove it."</p> + +<p>"And possibly he suspects that you are responsible for his failure to +get a new loan. He may even suspect that you had something to do with +what happened to his water supply.</p> + +<p>"No; but when a man begins to suspect he interprets things which +otherwise would carry no meaning. So far he connects us only through the +original transaction with Winton. If he knew the truth he'd probably +twist your neck like a chicken's."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden moved that threatened part of his anatomy uneasily. "He +wouldn't dare to attempt physical violence."</p> + +<p>French laughed. "You don't know that young man, Braden, because you're a +different breed. I know him, because I've seen his kind before. I made a +mistake in quarreling with him."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see him beaten to a pulp," said Mr. Braden viciously, "but +after all, it's the money we want. I'm having a devil of a time to keep +my head above water, and you're broke."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm broke," French admitted. "These things are the only chance I +see of getting money. When a man reaches my age and faces poverty to +which he is unaccustomed, he will do almost anything for money. I want +to see the cities and some of the men I knew thirty years ago, before I +die. For money to do that I'd give—give—I would—give—"</p> + +<p>Something seemed to have gone wrong with Godfrey French's enunciation. +It resembled nothing so much as a phonographic record with a +running-down motor. He did not stammer, but the words came slowly and +then blurred, as if his tongue had lost power. His face, on which a look +of blank wonder had come, suddenly contorted, his hand caught at his +breast, he threw his head back, chin up, mouth open, gasping.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Mr. Braden cried, startled at this sudden +transformation. "Are you ill? What—"</p> + +<p>"Get—" Godfrey French muttered indistinctly, "get—" He fell back in +his chair, inert, sagging arms loose, his face gray, unconscious.</p> + +<p>For an instant Mr. Braden stared at his associate horrified. It was as +if he had been seized, struck down and throttled by an invisible hand +which might claim another victim. Recovering, he poured a glass of +liquor with a shaking hand, and shivered as the rim clinked against the +unconscious man's teeth. He ran to the door.</p> + +<p>"Help!" he shouted wildly to the echoing darkness of the hall. "Come, +somebody! Help!"</p> + +<p>His call was answered by Kathleen and young Larry.</p> + +<p>"Your father!" Mr. Braden quavered. But Kathleen, pushing past him, ran +to her father's side.</p> + +<p>"He has a hypodermic somewhere," she said. "Look in his room, Larry, +quick!" Young Larry bounded for the stairs. "He has had these attacks +before, but this is the worst."</p> + +<p>"I'll go for the doctor," Mr. Braden offered.</p> + +<p>"Larry will go. Your horse isn't fast enough. I wish you'd stay here, if +you don't mind. The other boys are out and I'm alone."</p> + +<p>But in a moment Larry returned with a hypodermic syringe in its case and +a vial of tablets. Kathleen dissolved one of the latter, and baring her +father's arm administered the injection with a swiftness and steadiness +which commanded Mr. Braden's admiration. "We'd better get him up to his +room," she said.</p> + +<p>Larry picked up his father's inert body and mounted the stairs. He laid +him on his bed.</p> + +<p>"I'll look after him now," Kathleen said. "You won't mind waiting till +Larry comes back, Mr. Braden? And—<i>ride</i>, Larry!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden returned to the study. In a few moments he heard the dancing +rataplan of the hoofs of an eager, nervous horse, a curse from Larry, +the hoof-beats clamored past, steadied to a drumming roar, and died in +the distance. Evidently Larry was riding at a pace which probably meant +a foundered horse.</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden helped himself to a drink. Inadvertently he sat down in the +chair which had held Godfrey French, and suddenly realizing that fact +vacated it hastily. Outside the wind had increased to a gale, and with +it was rain. The window was open and the drawn blind slatted to and fro. +Mr. Braden selected another chair and sat down.</p> + +<p>But in a moment he arose, went to the door and listened. Leaving it ajar +he went to the desk and proceeded to pull out drawer after drawer, +rooting among their contents. Not finding what he sought he turned to +the safe. He stared at the impassive face of the dial, shook his head, +half turned away, and then caught the handle and twisted it. To his +amazement the bolts snicked back. Apparently whoever had closed the safe +had neglected to turn the knob of the combination.</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden burrowed in the safe's contents, and with an exclamation of +satisfaction seized a packet of legal-looking documents bound by a +rubber band. He stripped off the band and riffled the papers. Apparently +he found what he sought, for he selected two documents, replacing the +rest. Then, crossing the room to the light he opened the documents and +proceeded to verify them by glancing at their signatures.</p> + +<p>As he stood he fronted the window; and as he raised his eyes from the +perusal the down blind bellied and lifted with a gust of wind. In the +enlarged opening thus made Mr. Braden saw or thought he saw, a face. It +was but the merest glimpse he had of it, white with the reflected light +of the lamp. For an instant it stood out against the darkness, and then +the blind dropped back into place, hiding it.</p> + +<p>Hastily Mr. Braden shoved the papers in his pocket, while a gentle but +clammy perspiration broke out upon his forehead. But had he actually +seen a face, or was it some freak of vision? He went to the window, +raised the blind and peeped out. It was pitch dark and raining hard, but +across from him there was a glint of white, and in a moment he +identified it as merely a painted post of a fence glistening in the +rain. So that was the "face." Mr. Braden's heart resumed its normal +action. He closed the safe, spun the combination, sat down and picking +up a paper began to read.</p> + +<p>It was more than an hour later when Dr. Wilkes arrived. He came alone, +Larry having gone in search of his brothers. Mr. Braden listened to the +sound of low voices, of footsteps coming and going on the floor above. +Finally Wilkes came down.</p> + +<p>"And how is the patient?" Mr. Braden asked.</p> + +<p>"Gone out."</p> + +<p>"Gone out? You don't mean—"</p> + +<p>Dr. Wilkes nodded. Between him and Mr. Braden there was little +cordiality.</p> + +<p>"What was the—er—cause of death?"</p> + +<p>"Valvular cardiac disease of long standing."</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow, poor fellow!" Mr. Braden sorrowed, his hand involuntarily +caressing the papers in his inside pocket. "You never can—or—that is +in the midst of life we are in death. Why, only an hour or so ago he was +planning for a trip abroad."</p> + +<p>"He's on a longer trip," Wilkes said grimly.</p> + +<p>But the pounding of hoofs outside indicated that Larry had found his +brothers. In a moment he entered with Gavin and Gerald. Dr. Wilkes did +not soften his reply to Gerald's quick question. They stared at him, +stupefied. It seemed to Mr. Braden that he should express his sympathy.</p> + +<p>"My dear boys," he said, "I assure you that I feel for you in this dark +hour. Providence in its inscrutable wisdom has seen fit—"</p> + +<p>But Gavin interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"Cut it out!" he growled. "We don't want any stuff like that from +<i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>Shortly afterward Mr. Braden found himself driving homeward. The rain +had turned the road into mud, and was still coming down. It drove though +the lap-robe, wetted his knees and trickled down the back of his neck. +He was thoroughly uncomfortable. Nevertheless he reflected that +Providence in its inscrutable wisdom sometimes arranged things well. +Once more his hands pressed the papers in his pocket. Arriving at his +apartments he placed them in an old-fashioned iron safe which was +operated by a key instead of a combination. There were two keys. One Mr. +Braden carried with others on a ring. The other hung upon a single nail +driven into the wall immediately behind and concealed by the safe +itself. As it was dark there and as the safe was very close to the wall, +it seemed a very secure hiding place. On this occasion Mr. Braden used +the latter key, because he had changed his wet garments and left his +key-ring with them.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Braden's trust in Providence might have lessened—or +increased—had he known that outside, chinning himself against the +window-sill which he had just managed to reach from the rickety steps, +hung Turkey Mackay; and that, further, the said Turkey had been a +witness to the manner in which the papers had come into the possession +of Mr. Braden.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>STRANGERS ASK QUESTIONS</h3> + + +<p>When Faith and Angus got back to the ranch Godfrey French's funeral was +over. Faith did not pretend to be specially grieved.</p> + +<p>"But of course I must go and see Kathleen," she said.</p> + +<p>She went alone, for Angus would not go. He held no particular +ill-feeling toward Godfrey French, but as French had held it toward him +he thought it best to stay away. When Faith had gone he pottered about +the house, stables and sheds, taking an inventory, estimating the value +of the things he could sell, deciding where they could be sold to the +best advantage. There were the tools, implements, rigs, cut crops, +horses and stock on the range. He jotted down a rough estimate and +frowned at the result. Still it was the best he could do.</p> + +<p>Chetwood appeared. "Busy?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"I've just been figuring up what I can sell and what I can get for it."</p> + +<p>"You haven't sold anything yet?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'll hold off till the place itself is sold."</p> + +<p>"Somebody might bid it up to a good figure."</p> + +<p>"Nobody is apt to bid. Nobody here with enough loose money. No, +Braden'll get the place, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Old blighter!" Chetwood grunted. "But you never can tell. 'The +best-laid schemes of mice and men' and all that sort of thing. Let's +talk of something else—something I want to talk about."</p> + +<p>"Fire away," said Angus.</p> + +<p>"Jean and I are thinking of getting married," Chetwood told him bluntly.</p> + +<p>"The devil you are!" Angus exclaimed. He was not exactly surprised at +the news, but at the time of its announcement.</p> + +<p>"I like you," Angus admitted, "but I don't know a great deal about you. +You're working for wages which aren't very large. They won't keep two."</p> + +<p>"No more they will," Chetwood replied. "Jean suggests that I take up a +homestead." Angus shook his head. "You don't like the idea? No more do +I. I shan't do it."</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea what you will do? I gathered that you lost what money +you had in some fool investment. You never told me what it was."</p> + +<p>"I don't look on it as totally lost," Chetwood responded. "It may be all +right some day. One thing I'll promise you, old man, I won't marry Jean +till I have something definite to go on."</p> + +<p>"Good boy!" Angus approved. "That's sense. I'm going to look up a bunch +of land in one of the new districts. When I find what I want Jean will +come and live with us, of course. Then we might make some +arrangement—if you want to buck the ranching game."</p> + +<p>When Chetwood had gone, presumably to find Jean, Angus was restless. He +liked Chetwood, but the Lord alone knew when the latter would be in +shape to support a wife unless somebody helped him. He would have to do +that. The fancy took him to walk around the ranch for a last look as +owner. As he walked a hundred recollections crowded upon him. Here there +had been a good crop in one year; there a failure in another. Here was +the place where he had first held the handles of a plow. This was where +a team had run away with a mower. He arrived at the gate and looked +back over the fields. To-day they were his; to-morrow in all likelihood +they would belong to Braden.</p> + +<p>Looking up the road he saw a light rig with two men. One of them was +standing up in it, apparently surveying his surroundings through a pair +of field glasses. Presently he sat down and the team came on. By the +gate the driver pulled up and nodded.</p> + +<p>"Afternoon!" he said. He was a thickset, deeply tanned man of middle +age, with a shrewd, blue eye. He wore a suit which, though old, was of +excellently cut tweed, and his trousers were shoved into nailed +cruisers. His companion was younger, stout, round-faced and more +carefully dressed, but he, too, possessed a shrewd eye. Neither looked +like a rancher, and both were strangers to Angus. Between them rested an +instrument of some sort, hooded, which looked like a level.</p> + +<p>"Nice ranch, this," said the driver, "Yours?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"For sale?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Angus told him grimly.</p> + +<p>"How much have you got here?" the second stranger asked. Angus told him. +"En bloc?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What do you hold it at?"</p> + +<p>"I don't hold it at anything. It will be sold to-morrow by public sale +under a mortgage."</p> + +<p>The two men exchanged glances and eyed Angus with curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Who holds the mortgage?" the younger man asked.</p> + +<p>"Isaac J. Braden."</p> + +<p>"Braden, hey! Isn't that the fellow—" He spoke swiftly in an undertone +to his companion, who nodded. "We've heard of him. Local big bug, isn't +he? What's the amount against the property?" He whistled when Angus told +him. "Why didn't you get a loan somewhere and pay him off?"</p> + +<p>"Because I couldn't. Nobody would lend. The loan companies' +appraisers—well, they shied off."</p> + +<p>"Braden fixed them, did he?" the other deduced. "Knocked the loan, hey? +Knocked you as a borrower! Shoved you to the wall. Thinks he'll bid the +place in. Anybody else want it? No—or you'd have made some deal."</p> + +<p>"That's about the size of it," Angus admitted, surprised at the swift +accuracy of these deductions.</p> + +<p>"Will it leave you stranded?"</p> + +<p>"Nearly. Not quite."</p> + +<p>"Folks depending on you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you tell me to mind my own darn business?"</p> + +<p>"I came near it," Angus admitted; "but you look as if you know enough to +do that without being told."</p> + +<p>The stout man chuckled. "I think I do, myself. If I had known of this +place before I'd have made you some sort of an offer for it. As it is, +I'll go to that sale to-morrow. Good day. Drive on, Floyd."</p> + +<p>Angus watched them drive away and turned back to the house. It seemed +that Braden might have opposition, and apart from financial reasons he +was glad of it. The strangers did not look like ranchers. Speculators, +likely. Anyway, it had not taken the stout fellow long to size Braden +up. But if he could have overheard the conversation between the two +strangers as they drove away he would have been more surprised at the +accuracy of their mental workings.</p> + +<p>"Things like that," the man called Floyd observed jerking his head +backward, "always get my goat. I'll bet that young fellow's got the raw +end of some dirty deal. He's taking a bitter dose of medicine. You can +see it in his face."</p> + +<p>"And I can make a pretty fair guess what it is," the other responded. +"This fellow Braden has been trying to get information about our +construction plans. He hinted that he had some sort of a townsite +proposition to make to us, and if that place back there is it I give him +credit for a good eye. He doesn't seem to have been very particular +about how he went to work to get hold of it himself."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do about it, Mac?"</p> + +<p>"What I should do," the other replied, frowning thoughtfully, "is to +make a dicker with Braden to take over the land at a reasonable profit, +after he had bid it in for the amount of his dinky mortgage. That's my +plain duty to my employers, the Northern Airline, Mountain Section, for +which they pay me a salary, large it is true, but small in comparison +with my talents."</p> + +<p>Floyd grinned. "Yes, I know you <i>should</i> do that. But what <i>are</i> you +going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Well," the man called Mac admitted, "I do hate to see a shark get away +with anything but the hook. Besides, it looks to me as if Braden, if he +got hold of the property would try to double-cross us. I'll bet he'd +hold us up for some fancy price. So it's my duty to see he doesn't get a +chance. The property is just about what we want. There's room for a +good, little town. With that creek, a natural gravity water system could +be put in. No trouble about drainage. You can get power, too. A +subsidiary company formed to handle that end would pay well in a few +years when the place got going. Ah, it's a bird of a proposition—too +good to take any chances on."</p> + +<p>"That's your end," Floyd nodded. "We go ahead and find the grades and +put 'em in, and you fat office guys come along and clean up. Well, +Healey's notes are all right so far. Easy construction through here. +I'll send young Davis in right away and let him run a trial line east, +for Broderick to tie into."</p> + +<p>"Don't be in a hurry," the other responded. "Trouble with you roughneck +engineers, you think all there is to a railroad is building it. You wait +till I pick up what I want. I could fix it with Braden, but he'd get the +profit, and that young fellow back there would go broke, as he said. I +think I'll try to fix it so <i>he</i> gets the profit. I'll just bid the +place in over Braden, and the young fellow will get any surplus over the +mortgage claim. It will be just as cheap for us."</p> + +<p>"And the trouble with you," said the chief of Northern Airline +construction to its chief right-of-way and natural resources man, "is +that you're mushy about men in hard luck. I know some corporations you +wouldn't last with as long as a pint of red-eye in a Swede rock gang."</p> + +<p>"You're such a hard-hearted guy yourself!" sneered Mac, his round face +reddening perceptibly. "No bowels of compassion. Practical man! Dam' +hypocrite! Yah! you make me sick!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Floyd also reddened perceptibly. "Oh, well, I've been in hard luck +myself," he said.</p> + +<p>"So've I," his friend admitted. "I know what the gaff feels like. +Well—stir up those horses. We've got a long way to go."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>THE AUCTION</h3> + + +<p>The sale was to take place at noon in the sheriff's office. After +breakfast Angus went down to the corrals. Faith followed him.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to go with you to the sale."</p> + +<p>"Why?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I'd just like to be with you."</p> + +<p>He stared at her for a moment. In his life this solicitude, almost +maternal, was a new thing.</p> + +<p>"Why, old girl, I believe you think I can't stand the gaff. But if you +like, we'll take our medicine together."</p> + +<p>Toward noon they entered the sheriff's office. Braden was already there +with his lawyer, Parks, talking with the sheriff. Presently entered the +two strangers with whom Angus had talked the day before. The stout man +smiled and nodded, with a quick appraising glance at Faith. Then came +Judge Riley, and with him, to Angus' surprise, was Chetwood.</p> + +<p>"'Under and by virtue of the power of sale contained in a certain +mortgage bearing date—and made between—'"</p> + +<p>The sheriff's voice droned on. Angus paid scanty attention. Now that he +was there "to stand the gaff" his feelings were almost impersonal.</p> + +<p>"What am I offered for this property?" the sheriff having stated the +conditions of sale was getting down to business.</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand dollars." This from Mr. Braden. The amount was slightly +more than his mortgage claim.</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand dollars I am offered. Ten thousand. Are there any other +offers? If not—" The sheriff paused, sweeping the room with his eye. +Braden, looking at Angus, permitted himself a grin. "If not, then—"</p> + +<p>"Twelve thousand." It was the stout man, Mac. Having uttered the two +words he resumed a conversation with his friend.</p> + +<p>"Twelve thousand?" the sheriff repeated. "Was that right sir? You bid +twelve thousand, Mr.—er—"</p> + +<p>"McGinity," the stout man supplied.</p> + +<p>"Twelve thousand I am offered. Any other offers?"</p> + +<p>"Thirteen," said Mr. Braden.</p> + +<p>"Fourteen," said McGinity on the heels of Braden's voice.</p> + +<p>Faith whispered, "Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. He was out at the ranch yesterday. I think he'll run +Braden up."</p> + +<p>Braden whispered to his lawyer, who shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Fifteen thousand."</p> + +<p>"Sixteen."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden frowned, hesitated and went over to Mr. McGinity.</p> + +<p>"We seem to be opposing each other," he observed.</p> + +<p>"Does seem like it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we could reach an understanding—privately. As it stands, we +are running the price up."</p> + +<p>"I can stand it so far," said Mr. McGinity.</p> + +<p>"But we are cutting into each other. If you have reached your top figure +I will give you five hundred on it."</p> + +<p>"I haven't any top figure—except the value of the property to me."</p> + +<p>"You have bid all the property is worth."</p> + +<p>Mr. McGinity grinned. "Then naturally you won't bid any more," said he.</p> + +<p>"I have—er—sentimental reasons for desiring this property. You won't +enter into any arrangement?"</p> + +<p>"Not just now."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mr. Braden. "Sixteen thousand, five hundred, Mr. +Sheriff."</p> + +<p>"Seventeen," said Mr. McGinity, idly creasing his hat.</p> + +<p>Again Mr. Braden conferred with Parks. He raised the bid five hundred, +and again the stranger tilted it. The latter did so nonchalantly. +Between bids he conversed with his friend. But when Mr. Braden had bid +nineteen thousand, five hundred, he shot it to twenty-one thousand.</p> + +<p>Though the perspiration stood upon Mr. Braden's brow, his pedal +extremities began to suffer from cold. He had not expected any +opposition. The conditions of sale were stringent, as he had intended +them to be, with a view of choking off others; but just then, though few +knew it, certain unfortunate speculations had strained his credit very +badly. Twenty-one thousand was a large sum, more than he could count on +with certainty unless he had time to raise more on the security of the +property itself, even though part of it was his mortgage claim. But he +wanted the property very badly—needed it, in fact. Who the deuce was +this McGinity?</p> + +<p>And then, suddenly, he saw light. "McGinity" was the translation of +certain hieroglyphics appended to letters he had received from the +Northern Airline. He had translated them into "McKinley," but with +considerable doubt. So his competitor for possession of the Mackay ranch +was the Airline itself!</p> + +<p>So that was what he was up against! Mackay, somehow, must have gotten +wind of his intentions, and himself entered into negotiations with the +railway; and these must have reached a definite point.</p> + +<p>It was a difficult situation for Mr. Braden. He saw his dream of carving +up a choice townsite—of seeing it grow in value by leaps and bounds—go +glimmering. He hated to drop out. But what was the use of going on? +McGinity would bid up to whatever he thought the proposition worth, and +not a dollar more. More than that, if he, Braden, overtopped that +figure, they would let him keep the land, and they would make a townsite +elsewhere. Mr. Braden was under no delusions. He had known landowners +who had held the mistaken belief that a strong corporation could be +forced to adopt a certain location for a townsite merely because it was +the best. The said landowners still owned the land, but it was not a +town.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-one thousand!" the sheriff repeated. "Any advance? A very +valuable property, gentlemen." He looked at Mr. Braden. That gentleman +sadly shook his head. No, he was out of it. "Then," said the sheriff, +"if there is no higher bid, I—"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-two thousand!"</p> + +<p>It was Chetwood, and the effect was explosive. Mr. Braden stared, +open-mouthed. McGinity and Floyd turned and eyed him. Faith gasped, +clutching Angus' arm.</p> + +<p>"Why—why," she whispered, "how can he—you told me he had lost all his +money!"</p> + +<p>"So he told me. He must be running some sort of a blazer. Only, of +course, it won't go. It's foolish of him to try."</p> + +<p>The sheriff seemed to share Angus' view. Mr. Braden whispered to him. He +frowned.</p> + +<p>"You know the conditions of sale, young man?"</p> + +<p>"I heard you state them."</p> + +<p>"You are able to meet them?"</p> + +<p>"May I point out," said Chetwood, "that you have not asked that question +of any previous bidder. Why favor me?"</p> + +<p>"Well—er—you see—" the sheriff was slightly embarrassed—"I +understand that you are working for Mr. Mackay."</p> + +<p>"Quite so. And what of it?"</p> + +<p>"A man who can pay twenty-two thousand for a ranch doesn't often work on +it as a hired man," the sheriff pointed out.</p> + +<p>"It is absolutely none of your business, official or private, for whom, +or for what, or at what I work," Chetwood retorted. "I make that bid, +and I demand that you receive it."</p> + +<p>Faith laughed softly. Angus stared at his hired man.</p> + +<p>"I may tell you, Mr. Sheriff," the court voice of Judge Riley filled the +room, "that this gentleman is quite able to meet the conditions of sale +in any offer he may make."</p> + +<p>"Twenty-three thousand," said Mr. McGinity experimentally.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-four," Chetwood returned.</p> + +<p>Mr. McGinity turned to his friend. "Now what the devil is up? I've +raised Braden out. Who's this young fellow? And what's this about his +working for Mackay?"</p> + +<p>"I'm an engineer and an honest man," Floyd returned. "This is your end, +Mac. But if I were doing it, I'd get together with those boys, now that +the old cuss is out of it."</p> + +<p>"I always said you had too much brains for an engineer," Mr. McGinity +retorted. He crossed the room to Angus and bowed to Faith.</p> + +<p>"Suppose you tell me what the idea is?" he said. "Is this young fellow +bidding for you?"</p> + +<p>"You know as much about it as I do," Angus confessed, and beckoned to +Chetwood. "What are you up to, anyway?" he demanded of the latter. "I +thought you were broke. You told me so."</p> + +<p>"I told you my income had stopped—temporarily," Chetwood replied. "So +it had. If you had ever said a word about money troubles I would have +fixed them like a shot, but you never even mentioned 'em. So now I'm +going to buy the ranch in."</p> + +<p>"How high will you go?" Mr. McGinity asked. "Hold on, now—wait a +minute. I represent the Northern Airline, which is going to build +through here, and this property is valuable to us. I'm prepared to go +fairly high myself to get it. That means that we are prepared to pay the +owner a good price. Now, instead of crazy bidding, can't we come to an +arrangement?"</p> + +<p>"Have you any connection with Braden?" Chetwood asked.</p> + +<p>"Hell, no!" Mr. McGinity replied. "Didn't you just see me raise him out? +And I can raise <i>you</i> out, young man, if you won't act sensibly, unless +you have a mighty big roll back of you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you can't," Chetwood replied cheerfully. He drew McGinity to +one side. "Because, you see," he explained, "I'm really bidding the +property in for Mackay, though he doesn't know it. So, you see, I never +have to put up real money at all, except enough to satisfy old Braden's +claim, and technically satisfy the conditions of sale. I buy the +property, hand stage money to Mackay, he hands it back to me—and there +you are! The only real money is what Braden gets."</p> + +<p>"And suppose Mackay doesn't come through," Mr. McGinity speculated +wisely. "Suppose I forced you up—away up—and Mackay found that as a +result his ranch had brought a top-notch price which he was entitled to +most of; and suppose he stood pat and insisted on receiving it. Where +would you get off at then?"</p> + +<p>Chetwood laughed. "Braden might do that. Mackay isn't that kind. We're +friends, and I'm going to marry his sister. Raise away, if you feel like +it."</p> + +<p>Mr. McGinity's eyes twinkled. "Not on your life," he said. "The +combination is too many for me." The sheriff impatiently claimed +recognition. "I'm through, Mr. Sheriff. The last bid is good as far as +I'm concerned."</p> + +<p>The sheriff looked at Mr. Braden, who shook his head. And thus the +Mackay ranch came into the nominal possession of Chetwood.</p> + +<p>Angus, throttling his pride, held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"You've got a good ranch," he said. "I'm glad it's you. If you marry +Jean it will be staying in the family, anyway. I'll be moving out as +soon—"</p> + +<p>"You'll be doing nothing of the kind," Chetwood told him. "Do you think +I'm such a dashed cad as that? I'm buying the ranch for you, of course. +You can pay me what I'll pay Braden, when you like, and if you never +feel like it nobody will worry."</p> + +<p>Angus stared at him dazedly. For the first time in years his eyes were +misty; but his innate pride still held.</p> + +<p>"It's good of you," he said. "Oh, it's <i>damned</i> good of you, but—I +can't stand for it."</p> + +<p>"Afraid you'll jolly well have to, my boy," Chetwood grinned cheerfully. +"You can't help yourself, you know."</p> + +<p>"But I can't allow—"</p> + +<p>"Don't I tell you, you'll have to. Don't be such a bally ass, or strike +me pink if I don't punch your beastly head here and now! Can't you take +a little help from a friend who would take it from you? Mrs. Angus, for +heaven's sake make this lunatic listen to reason!"</p> + +<p>Faith laughed happily. "He wouldn't let <i>me</i> help him," she said. "Give +him time, Mr. Chetwood."</p> + +<p>As Chetwood waited to comply with the necessary formalities Mr. McGinity +touched him on the arm.</p> + +<p>"I want to make a proposition to whoever owns that land—you or Mackay," +he said. "I'd rather make it to you, because I can see you know more +about business than he does. The Airline isn't any philanthropic +institution, of course, but we'll play fair with you and Mackay."</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much," said Chetwood, a twinkle in his eye.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I mean it," Mr. McGinity assured him. "You seem a pretty bright +young fellow. If you haven't got too much money to take a good job, I +can place you in my department."</p> + +<p>"But you see," Chetwood returned, "I've already got a job with your +company."</p> + +<p>"What?" cried Mr. McGinity. "What kind of a con game is this? What +department are you in?"</p> + +<p>"I'm a director. Did you ever hear of Sir Eustace Chetwood?"</p> + +<p>Mr. McGinity gasped. "Are you trying to kid me? Sir Eustace Chetwood was +one of our English directors, but he's dead. And he was about eighty +years old."</p> + +<p>"Quite right," Chetwood nodded. "He died a few months ago, and by virtue +of the shares in your corporation which he left to me, I was elected to +fill his place. I'm his nephew, you see. As to the title, it's +hereditary, and I can't help it."</p> + +<p>"Sir Eustace Chetwood!" gasped Mr. McGinity. "Good Lord!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not using either title at present," Chetwood grinned. "Just +keep it dark, like a good fellow. I don't want to be plagued by a lot of +blighters who can't see me at all as a thirty-dollar ranch hand. My real +friends are just beginning to call me 'Bill'—and I like it. I say, Mr. +McGinity, if you should ever call me 'Bill,' I'd call you 'Mac'."</p> + +<p>"Is that so, Bill?" said Mr. McGinity, who was a gentlemen of easy +adjustments.</p> + +<p>"It are so, Mac!" Chetwood laughed. "See you later about that +proposition. Remember, you are to play fair."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>CHETWOOD UNMASKED</h3> + + +<p>As Angus drove homeward he was at first unable to adjust himself to +actuality. He had given up all hope of retaining the ranch. The wrench +of loss had been over. But now the ranch was his again, subject to the +debt already existing, to keep if he chose.</p> + +<p>But he realized that it would be folly to retain it as a ranch, to +refuse a proposition which McGinity had just made amounting to a +fifty-fifty partnership with the Airline in the project of a townsite. +Again, no matter what his individual preference, he must think of +others. In reality, his own individual interest in the ranch amounted to +but one-third. Sooner or later there must be a division—an adjustment +of shares between Jean, Turkey and himself. In justice to them he could +not refuse an offer which promised more than he could ever hope to make +or receive for the ranch as a ranch.</p> + +<p>And so the ranch, as a ranch, was done. Its broad fields and pastures +and broad stretches of timbered levels would be broken up, surveyed into +building lots, pegged out with stakes, gridironed with embryonic +streets. For a while it would lie raw, unsightly, ruined as a ranch, +unmade as a town. And then people would come in. Shacks would spring up, +stores with false fronts, all sorts of makeshifts which accompany +construction days. Later would come permanence, better buildings, +churches, schools, gardens, sidewalks. Where the Ranch had been would +stand the Town. It was Progress, the history of the West since the first +steel road adventured among the ancient buffalo trails. The old order +was changing, but he, though young, was more of the old order than the +new, because he had been bred in the former.</p> + +<p>Faith touched his arm lightly.</p> + +<p>"Tell me I'm awake. It seems like a dream."</p> + +<p>He put his arm around her and she snuggled in the crook of it, leaning +comfortably against his shoulder. He pulled the team to a walk.</p> + +<p>"Now say it yourself."</p> + +<p>"Say what? How <i>did</i> you know I wanted to say something? But it's +nothing particular. It's just—everything!"</p> + +<p>"It's sure a surprise to me. Why, only yesterday I hinted to Chetwood +that it was doubtful if he could support a wife—and to-day he bids in +my whole ranch." He laughed, but with little mirth, for the sense of +obligation lay heavy on him.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Jean knew?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. Why, she wanted him to homestead—said he'd have to +make good before she'd marry him."</p> + +<p>"Jean is so practical!" sighed his wife. "Now I'd never have said +anything like that to <i>you</i>. I'm glad that Braden didn't get the ranch. +Odious beast!" Angus chuckled. "Well, he <i>is</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Easily! I never happened to think of that particular descriptive +phrase, though."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear <i>your</i> descriptive phrases. He's a horrible man. I +shudder when he looks at me. He—he seems to be thinking evil things +about me—plotting—Oh, I don't know. Did you see his face when he saw +that he would be overbidden? It turned white, and then <i>green</i>. Oh, you +may laugh! I <i>saw</i> it."</p> + +<p>"It was a jolt for him. He had it working like an oiled lock up to then. +Some day I will play even with him."</p> + +<p>"He didn't accomplish his end. He's beneath your notice."</p> + +<p>"No man who tried to hand me what he did is beneath my notice," he said +grimly. "Yes, I'll settle with him some day."</p> + +<p>"I thought I might see your brother at the sale."</p> + +<p>"No, he wouldn't go near it. I'll be glad when I can hand him over his +share to do what he likes with."</p> + +<p>"It's odd that I've never seen him. Why don't you make it up with him, +Angus?"</p> + +<p>Angus' mouth tightened grimly. "Make it up! Now, I'll tell you +something, Faith, which you must never repeat, even to Jean: I believe +he is in cahoots with Braden."</p> + +<p>"Oh, surely not!" she cried, and when he told her the grounds of his +belief she was unconvinced. "There's some mistake, Angus."</p> + +<p>"It's not on my part. I'm through with him—except to give him his +share. He shall have that, to the last cent. He shall not say I did not +play fair with him."</p> + +<p>"You would play fair with every one," she told him. "I know that."</p> + +<p>His arm tightened for an instant by way of acknowledgment. But he found +her words only just. To the best of his ability he had tried to play +fair all his life. On that score he could not reproach himself at all.</p> + +<p>They drove up to the ranch, and at the sound of wheels Jean ran out. She +had been waiting, regretting that she had not accompanied them, anxious +to know the worst and have it over.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear!" said Faith tantalizingly.</p> + +<p>"You know what. Who bought the ranch? Was it Braden?"</p> + +<p>"No," Faith replied, "it was a young man named Chetwood."</p> + +<p>"Wha-a-t!" cried Jean in tones which left no doubt of her utter +amazement. "Oh, stop joking! This is serious."</p> + +<p>"He bought it," Angus assured her.</p> + +<p>"But—but he <i>couldn't</i>!" Jean exclaimed incredulously. "Angus, you know +he couldn't. Why he's <i>broke</i>! He's working for you for <i>wages</i>."</p> + +<p>"Just what the old sheriff said," Angus laughed. "But it's straight, +Jean. He bid the ranch in for twenty-four thousand."</p> + +<p>"But where did he get the money?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. But he had it."</p> + +<p>"Then," Jean flashed, "I'll never speak to him again—never! To buy the +ranch, your ranch, our ranch—at a sale! Oh, the miserable, +contemptible—"</p> + +<p>"Hi, hold on!" Angus interrupted. "You don't understand. He didn't buy +it for himself; he bought it in for us—to save it. He's a white man, +all right, Jean."</p> + +<p>"I don't care what he bought the ranch for!" Jean cried. "And he's <i>not</i> +a white man. He's a sneak. He deceived me. He said his remittance had +stopped. He let me make a fool of myself advising him to homestead and +get a place of his own, and work hard, so that—so that—"</p> + +<p>"So that you could be married!" Angus chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Ye—yes," Jean confessed, and her brother roared. "Oh, you think it +funny, do you? Well, <i>he</i> won't. I never want to see him. I <i>won't</i> see +him."</p> + +<p>"But, Jean dear, listen," Faith put in, for she saw that to Jean there +was nothing humorous in the situation. The girl was deeply offended, +bitterly angry.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to listen," Jean snapped. "I don't want to be rude, Faith, +but he—he <i>lied</i> to me. He led me to believe that he was poor, that he +hadn't a dollar. He was playing with me, amusing himself, laughing at me +when I was—oh, I can't talk about it!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, shucks, old girl!" said Angus. "You're going into the air about +nothing. You ought to be glad he isn't broke."</p> + +<p>"Ought I?" Jean retorted. "Well, I'm not. He wasn't straight with me, he +wasn't fair. He talked about a little cottage, and wanted me to marry +him right away, and—and—"</p> + +<p>"And share his poverty," Angus grinned. "Weren't you game, sis?"</p> + +<p>"Angus!" Faith warned. But Jean's cheeks flamed.</p> + +<p>"No, I wasn't," she replied bitterly. "I told him he would have to make +good first, if you want to know, not because I didn't love him, poor as +I thought he was, but because I thought it would make him work in +earnest. Can you understand that, Angus Mackay? Do you think, after +telling him that, I'd marry him now that he has money? I'd rather <i>die</i>! +And—and I half believe I want to."</p> + +<p>With which tragic ultimatum Miss Jean turned and fled. Angus gaped after +her and at his wife.</p> + +<p>"Well, of all darn fool girls—" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"You don't understand. You made it worse."</p> + +<p>"Why, what did I—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind now. I'll talk to her after a while, but in her place I'd +feel much the same. I only hope she will get over it."</p> + +<p>"Of course she will. Rot! She fooled herself about Chetwood, same as I +did. Go and make her behave sensibly."</p> + +<p>"You don't know a blessed thing about girls," his wife told him.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll bet if you let the two of them get together they'll make it +up. She'll go for him red-headed for five minutes, then it'll be over."</p> + +<p>But Faith vetoed this simple plan. She saw that Jean's pride had been +deeply hurt. When Chetwood appeared, later, he met the surprise of his +young life. He did not see Jean. Faith took the matter into her own +hands.</p> + +<p>"But—but, hang it," he exclaimed when the situation was made clear to +him, "it's all a beastly, rotten misunderstanding. I mean to say it's +all wrong. Jean—why, bless the girl, I never dreamed of offending her."</p> + +<p>"But you've done it. Do you mind answering one or two questions?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you anything," Chetwood replied with fervor.</p> + +<p>"Well—they may be impertinent. Have you much money? And is it yours, +or—remittances?"</p> + +<p>"'Much money' is rather a relative term. But I have enough to live on, +and it is mine."</p> + +<p>"Then what on earth made you work as a ranch hand?"</p> + +<p>"Jean did. She had a strong prejudice against remittance men, and she +classed me as one of them. I was an idler, and she rather despised me. +Of course she didn't tell me so, but I could see how the land lay. So I +made up my mind to remove that objection, anyway. The best place to do +it seemed to be where she could see me working, and I really wanted to +know something about ranching. Struck me as a good joke, being paid for +what I was perfectly willing to pay for myself. Then I thought I might +as well live up to the part and really throw myself on my own resources, +which I did. I've been living on my wages. But of course I had to have +some adequate explanation. I couldn't tell Angus I wanted to live on the +ranch to make love to his sister. Now, could I? So I merely let it be +understood that my remittances had stopped. May not have been exactly +cricket, but I can't see that I'm very much to blame. If I could see +Jean—"</p> + +<p>"Not now. She refused to marry you till you were in a position to +support a wife. That's the bitter part of it."</p> + +<p>"But I <i>am</i> able to support one."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but don't you see having refused to marry you until you had made a +little money she won't put herself in the position of doing so now for +fear you or somebody might think the money had something to do with it."</p> + +<p>Chetwood took his bewildered head in his hands.</p> + +<p>"O, my sainted Aunt Jemima!" he murmured. "In the picturesque language +of the country this sure beats—er—I mean it's a bit too thick for me. +She didn't approve of me because I was an idler and presumably a +remittance man. Very well. I cut off my income and became a hired man. +Then she wouldn't marry me because I was. Now she won't see me or speak +to me because I'm not. Kind lady, having been a girl yourself, will you +please tell me what I am to do about it?"</p> + +<p>Faith laughed at his woebegone countenance. "The whole trouble is that +you weren't frank with her. What was play to you—a good joke—was the +most serious thing in life to her. While she was considering and +planning in earnest for the future you were laughing at her. Perhaps a +man can't appreciate it; but a woman finds such things hard to forgive."</p> + +<p>"I'll apologize," Chetwood said. "I'll eat crow. Mrs. Angus, like an +angel, do help me with the future Lady Chet—er—I mean—"</p> + +<p>"What!" Faith cried.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord!" Chetwood ejaculated, "there go the beans. Nothing, nothing! +I don't know what I'm saying, really!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you dare to deceive me!" Faith admonished sternly. "Lady +Chetwood! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"But it's not my fault," the luckless young man protested. "I can't help +it. It's hereditary. When the old boy died—"</p> + +<p>"What old boy?"</p> + +<p>"My uncle, Sir Eustace. I was named after him. And I couldn't help +<i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me," Faith accused him severely, "that on top of +all your deceptions you have a title? Oh, Jean will never forgive this!"</p> + +<p>"But it's not much of a title," its owner palliated. "It's just a little +old one. Nothing gaudy about it, like these new brewers'. It's +considered quite respectable, really, at home, and nobody objects. +It—it runs in the family, like red hair or—er—insanity."</p> + +<p>"Insanity!" Faith gasped. "Good heavens, is there <i>that</i>? Oh, poor Jean! +That explains—"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" Chetwood protested desperately. "I didn't mean that. Quite the +contrary. Not a trace. Why, dash it all, there isn't even genius!"</p> + +<p>Whereat, with a wild shriek, Faith collapsed weakly in her chair and +laughed until she wept. "Oh, oh, oh!" she gasped feebly, wiping her +eyes, "this is lovely—I mean it's awful. Mr. Chetwood—I mean Sir +Eustace—"</p> + +<p>"'Bill!'" the object of her mirth amended. "Poor Bill. Poor old Bill! +Dear, kind, pretty lady, have a heart!"</p> + +<p>"A heart! If it gets any more shocks like this—But what am I to tell +Jean? Here's a poor country girl and a noble knight—"</p> + +<p>"Don't rub it in. You see Sir Eustace was alive when I came over here. +When I heard of his death I said nothing to anybody, because there are a +lot of silly asses who seem to think a title makes some difference in a +man. And then I was afraid some beastly newspaper would print some rot +about my working as a ranch hand."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know what's to be done about it," Faith admitted; "but I +do know that now isn't the time for you to see Jean. Really, I think the +best thing you can do is to go away for a week or two."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>ANOTHER SURPRISE</h3> + + +<p>Outwardly, life on the Mackay ranch settled back to its old groove. Work +went on as usual. Angus entered into an agreement with McGinity which +relieved him from present money worries. But the actual railway +construction would take time, and meanwhile, next season, he could take +off another crop.</p> + +<p>Already the summer was done, the days shortening, the evenings growing +cool. Birds were full-grown and strong of wing. Fogs hung in the +mornings, to be dispelled by the sun slanting a little to southward. The +days were clear, warm, windless. In the lake, trees and mountain ranges +were reflected with the accuracy of a mirror. On these shadows, as +perfect upside down as right side up, Faith expended photographic film +prodigally.</p> + +<p>Chetwood had returned to the ranch, but Jean had refused to restore the +status quo. She treated him with formal politeness, avoiding him +skilfully, taking care that he should not see her alone. Mrs. Foley, now +in complete charge of the ranch kitchen, commented thereon.</p> + +<p>"What's th' racket bechune yez?" she asked bluntly. "Ye act like ye was +feared to be wid th' lad alone. An' a while ago I felt it me duty as a +fellow-woman to cough, or dhrop a broom—"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" Jean interrupted tartly.</p> + +<p>"Well, a dacint lad he is—f'r a sassenach—fair-spoken, wid a smile, +an' a pleasant word f'r th' likes iv me, an' always a josh on th' tip iv +his tongue."</p> + +<p>Jean sniffed.</p> + +<p>"Havin' buried four min, I know their ways," Mrs. Foley continued. "Whin +a man's eyes rest on a woman wishful, like a hungry dog's on a green +bone, that's thrue love."</p> + +<p>"I'm not a bone!" Jean snapped.</p> + +<p>"I am not makin' no cracks at th' build iv yez," Mrs. Foley assured her. +"A foine, well-growed shlip iv a gyurl ye are; an' a swate arrumful—"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Foley!" Jean cried, cheeks afire.</p> + +<p>"Well, glory be, an' what else is a gyurl's waist an' a man's arrum +for?" Mrs. Foley demanded practically. "Sure, I am no quince-mouthed +owld maid, talkin' wide iv phwat ivery woman—maid, wife, an' +widdy—knows. I misdoubt, f'r all yer high head, ye're in love wid th' +lad. Then why don't ye let love take its coorse?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not in love with him," Jean declared. "I don't want to see him. I +wish he'd go away."</p> + +<p>"An' if he did ye'd be afther cryin' thim purty brown eyes out."</p> + +<p>"I would <i>not</i>!" Jean asseverated. "He's nothing to me—less than +nothing."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, God knows our hearts," Mrs. Foley commented piously. "Foour +min I've buried, an' I know their ways."</p> + +<p>"You might have another husband if you liked," Jean told her by way of +counter-attack.</p> + +<p>"Ye mane th' big Swede," Mrs. Foley responded calmly, "Maybe I could. +But I've had no luck keepin' min, an' he might not last either, though +him bein' phwat he is it might not matther. Still an' all, buryin' +husbands is onsettlin' to a woman."</p> + +<p>"But Gus is so healthy!" Jean giggled.</p> + +<p>"So was me poor b'ys that's gone," Mrs. Foley sighed. "They was that +healthy it hurt 'em. Health makes f'r divilmint, an' divilmint shortens +a man's days. I'm tellin' ye, ut's th' scrawny little divils that ain't +healthy enough to enj'y life that nawthin' shakes loose from ut. But +rip-roarin', full-blooded b'ys, like thim I had, they leaves a woman +lorn."</p> + +<p>"Were your husbands <i>all</i> Irish?" Jean asked.</p> + +<p>"They wor," Mrs. Foley replied, "if Galway, Wicklow, Clare an' Down +breed Irishmin, God rest thim!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Gus is a good worker. He's been with us for years."</p> + +<p>"But ye could fire him when ye liked," Mrs. Foley pointed out. "A +husband an' a hired man is cats of diff'rent stripes. But they tell me +this lad of yours has money. Then why is he workin' as a hired man +onless f'r love of ye, tell me that?"</p> + +<p>"I can't help his feelings," Jean returned.</p> + +<p>"No, but ye might soothe thim, instid iv playin' cat-an'-mouse—"</p> + +<p>"I'm not!" Jean cried. "And I wish you wouldn't talk about him any +more."</p> + +<p>The net result was that, feeling herself under Mrs. Foley's skeptical +eye, she treated the unfortunate Chetwood more distantly than ever. +Faith observed, but said nothing, waiting for an opportune moment which +was slow in coming.</p> + +<p>Since her wedding Faith's ranch had been abandoned. She had removed some +of her personal belongings, but the furniture remained. She was aware, +now, of the worthlessness of the place. The reasons which had impelled +Godfrey French to purchase, whatever they were, were not operative with +his children. If Braden had been behind that offer it was improbable +that it would be renewed by him. The place was dead horse.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Faith held a fondness for it, principally sentimental. +Occasionally she rode over to see that all was in order. She had an idea +that, if the Mackay ranch was cut up, they might live there, and she had +a wish, of which she had not yet spoken to her husband, to spend a week +or two there alone with him before the winter. And so one day she paid a +visit to her property.</p> + +<p>Though the day was warm the interior struck chill. She threw the doors +open and raised the blinds, letting in the air and sun. Then, taking a +book, she moved a rocker to the front veranda, and basked in the sun. +For a time she admired the mountains sharply defined, gulch, shoulder +and summit, in the clear air, but speedily she became lost in her own +thoughts.</p> + +<p>A sudden, thudding detonation broke her reverie and brought her upright +in her chair. It rumbled into the hills, caught by the rocks, flung +across gorges and back in a maze of echoes, diminishing and dying in the +far ranges. For a startled instant she wondered what it could be, and +then she knew that it was powder—a blast.</p> + +<p>The shot seemed near, not more than a mile distant. It was either on her +land or very near it, in the vicinity of the foot of the round mountain +which projected from the foot of the range. While she puzzled, another +shot came. Yes, undoubtedly that was where it was. But who could be +using powder on her property?</p> + +<p>She made up her mind to find out what was going on. She locked the +doors, and mounting her pony took as straight a line as she could in the +direction of the blasts.</p> + +<p>There were no more shots, but she rode on, and presently came to what +seemed to be a new trail leading upward beside the shoulder of the round +hill aforesaid. Her pony scrambled up the rough going, walled on either +side by brush. Then she emerged upon a bench a few acres in extent, +above which the hill rose steeply. There stood a couple of tents. The +brush had been cut away, and earth and stones stripped from the mountain +side, leaving a new, raw wound. Fragments of gray country rock, split +and driven by the force which had ripped them loose, lay around. By the +face thus exposed half a dozen men were at work. Closer at hand two men +conversed. As she pulled up her pony they saw her.</p> + +<p>For a moment they stared at her. She rode forward.</p> + +<p>"I—I hope I'm not in the way," she began, feeling the words inadequate. +"I was down at the ranch and heard the blasts. I am Miss—I mean I am +Mrs. Mackay." She was not yet accustomed to the latter designation.</p> + +<p>"My name is Garland," said the younger of the two. "This is Mr. Poole."</p> + +<p>Mr. Poole murmured unintelligibly. Then both waited. A hammer man began +to strike. The measured clang punctuated the stillness.</p> + +<p>"I thought I would ride up and see what was going on," Faith explained.</p> + +<p>"We're doing a little development work."</p> + +<p>"Oh," Faith said, and hesitated for an instant. "But—but this is my +land."</p> + +<p>"Your land!" Garland and Poole were plainly surprised. They exchanged +glances. In them was quick suspicion, unspoken question, speculation.</p> + +<p>"Where would your line run?" Garland asked.</p> + +<p>But Faith could not tell him. Godfrey French had indicated in general +terms where her boundaries lay, but she had never followed them. She +could only repeat her conviction. Again the men exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you'll have to see Braden about that," Garland told her. +"This is his property—or he thinks it is. We're working for him."</p> + +<p>"But what are you working at? What are you doing?"</p> + +<p>"We're opening up a prospect—what's going to be a mine."</p> + +<p>"A mine! What kind of a mine?"</p> + +<p>"A coal mine," Garland replied, "and a good one, too. I guess this +little mountain is mostly coal. We're just clearing off the face, but +you can see the seam if you like."</p> + +<p>Coal! Faith stared at the wound in the hillside. She could see a dark +belt, the "seam" of which Garland had spoken, partially exposed. There, +overlain by soil and worthless rock, screened by tree and brush, was the +stored fertility of some bygone age, the compression of the growth of a +young world, potential heat, light, power.</p> + +<p>"This isn't much more than outcrop," Garland was saying, "but it's good +coal. Braden will make a clean-up on this when the railway comes +through—that is if it is his." His eyes met Poole's, and again there +was the unspoken query, the speculation.</p> + +<p>"But I'm sure it isn't," said Faith. "That is, I'm almost sure."</p> + +<p>"It would be a good thing to be sure about," Garland told her.</p> + +<p>"I think my husband will be able to tell you," said Faith.</p> + +<p>"No use telling us," Garland replied. "Braden's the man for him to see. +And—well, our instructions are not to allow anybody on the ground."</p> + +<p>"No trespassing," Poole corroborated.</p> + +<p>"But if this is my property—"</p> + +<p>"That's the point—<i>if</i> it is."</p> + +<p>"I think it is. And until I know it isn't I have a right to come here, +and so has my husband."</p> + +<p>Garland shrugged his shoulders. "I'm only telling you our instructions. +I may as well tell you Braden wouldn't want your husband coming here. +They're not friends, I guess. You'd better tell him to keep away."</p> + +<p>"My husband will go where he likes without asking Mr. Braden's +permission."</p> + +<p>"We're working for Braden," said Garland, "and what he says goes. We +don't want any trouble with anybody, but we're going to carry out our +instructions."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell my husband," Faith returned. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Garland and Poole watched her out of sight and stared at each other.</p> + +<p>"Now what do you think of that?" the former asked.</p> + +<p>"Darned if I know. She seemed sure. But Braden ought to know what he's +about."</p> + +<p>"He <i>ought</i> to," Garland admitted. "He sold her father whatever land she +has. He owns a whole bunch of it around here." He was silent for a +moment. "I wonder if he's putting something over; I wonder if she <i>does</i> +own this, and Braden has framed something on her?"</p> + +<p>"Her deed would show what she owns."</p> + +<p>"That's so. But if Braden is putting something over and we can get onto +it, we could make him come through. This thing is going to be worth +having a share in."</p> + +<p>"How are we going to get onto it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Garland admitted, "but you never can tell what will turn +up."</p> + +<p>"Suppose young Mackay comes horning in here. He'd come on the prod."</p> + +<p>"This bunch can handle him," Garland said with confidence. "That big +Swede that's using the hammer is a bad actor. I'll give him a pointer +about Mackay."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>A NEW COMPLICATION</h3> + + +<p>Faith rode homeward at an unwonted pace. She had always regarded that +mountain, supposed to be worthless, as part of her property. Godfrey +French, she now remembered more clearly, had once indicated it as within +her boundaries. Now that it was valuable, it appeared that Braden +claimed it. It might be true, but it was strange.</p> + +<p>Her husband met her as she clattered up to the corrals. It was his habit +to lift her from the saddle. For a moment he held her above his head as +if she had been a child, kissed her and set her on her feet gently. His +eyes went to the pony's sweating coat.</p> + +<p>"Just finding out that old Doughnuts can travel when he has to?" The +pony owed his name to that far-off episode of their first meeting.</p> + +<p>"I was in a hurry. Did I ride him too hard?"</p> + +<p>"No, did him good." He loosened the cinches, stripped off saddle and +bridle and dismissed Doughnuts with a friendly slap for a luxurious +roll. "What was the hurry, old girl? Has somebody been breaking into Dry +Lodge?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; all right there. But Angus, such a strange thing has happened. +They've found coal in that round mountain!"</p> + +<p>"Coal!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Swiftly, words tumbling over one another so that much had to be +repeated, she related her experiences. As she spoke, mentioning the +names of Garland, of Poole, and finally of Braden, she saw his face +cloud and darken. The frank, genial lights of love and laughter left his +eyes; they became hard, brooding, watchful.</p> + +<p>"Well," she asked, "what do you think? Isn't that my property—<i>our</i> +property?"</p> + +<p>"I supposed so from what you told me, but I never knew where your lines +ran. How did you know your boundaries?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't really know them, I'm afraid. Uncle Godfrey just generally +indicated where they were, from the house. But I know he said that hill +was inside them."</p> + +<p>"Your deeds would show; but Judge Riley has sent them away to be +registered. I don't remember the description in them."</p> + +<p>"But couldn't we find the corner-posts if the land was surveyed?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it wasn't surveyed. Surveys are usually up to the purchaser. +Your land is part of a larger block owned by Braden. I think he owns +land on both sides of it. He got it for about fifty cents an acre, and +he got the Tetreau place for next to nothing. The description in the +deed would give a starting point, then so many chains that way and so +many another, and it would work out to the acreage, but no actual survey +may have been made."</p> + +<p>In fact the only means of determining the actual boundaries were the +deeds themselves, which were temporarily inaccessible.</p> + +<p>"I'll go over the ground to-morrow anyway," Angus said, "and look for a +line. And I'll see what these fellows are doing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot! This Garland told me nobody was to be allowed on the +ground. Those were his instructions."</p> + +<p>"They were, were they. It's easy to give instructions. I believe Garland +and Poole had something to do with my ditch. They're just the sort +Braden could hire to do a thing like that. And now they're in charge of +this coal prospect! There's something queer about it. I wonder if that +was why your uncle was trying to buy you out?"</p> + +<p>"Why," she exclaimed, startled, "surely you don't think he knew of this +coal! Oh, he couldn't!"</p> + +<p>"It looks to me like a reasonable explanation."</p> + +<p>"But if it is my land, how can Mr. Braden say it's his?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Angus replied, "but I do know that Braden will do +anything he thinks he can get away with."</p> + +<p>Early the following morning Angus and Rennie rode away. The latter, to +Angus' surprise, was wearing a gun.</p> + +<p>"What do you want that for?" Angus asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Rennie replied, "but I know if I need her she's going to +be there. This claim-jumpin' is as risky as foolin' with another man's +wife. You never can tell."</p> + +<p>"But we're not going to jump them."</p> + +<p>"All right. But maybe they'll take a notion to jump us. I don't aim to +be crowded by no dam' rock-gang like Braden 'd hire for a job he thought +there might be trouble about."</p> + +<p>They found the boundaries of the old Tetreau holding without difficulty, +and with these for a base began to prospect for others. After a long +search they found what appeared to be an old line which had been cut +through brush, but new growth had almost choked it.</p> + +<p>"She was run a long time ago," Rennie decided. "Longer 'n when your +wife's pa bought all this scenery. It looks to me like she might be the +line of the block Braden owns."</p> + +<p>"We can take a sight and see where the line hits the mountain," Angus +suggested.</p> + +<p>They took a rough sight, with stakes set as nearly as possible in the +center of the old line, and they found that the line, produced, would +strike to the northwest of the round mountain. Therefore if this line +was the northwestern boundary of Faith's land, it would include the coal +deposit claimed by Braden.</p> + +<p>"Braden skins his hand mighty close before he puts down a bet," said +Rennie. "If he's openin' up a prospect, he's likely organized to back +her. My tumtum is to wait till you get them deeds back and then have a +survey made, or, anyway, see Riley."</p> + +<p>"We can go and have a look at what they're doing, and hear what they +have to say. I like Braden's nerve, giving orders to keep people off. +What the devil does he think this country is? If there wasn't something +crooked about the thing he wouldn't mind who took a look at it. I'm +going to have a look, anyway."</p> + +<p>They rode toward the mountain, eventually striking into the trail which +Faith had followed on the preceding day. As they approached they could +hear the sounds of work in progress, and suddenly they came upon a man +planting posts. A roll of wire lay on the ground. The man stepped into +the trail.</p> + +<p>"Hold on," he said. "You can't go any further."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" said Rennie. "The trail looks like it went some farther."</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>you</i> don't," the other retorted. "Them's orders."</p> + +<p>"Whose orders?" Angus asked, crowding forward.</p> + +<p>"The boss'—Braden."</p> + +<p>"Braden be damned!" said Angus. "Get out of the way. Give me the trail, +you, or I'll ride plum' over you!" As he spoke he touched his horse with +the heel, and the guardian of the trail gave ground, cursing, but +followed them as they rode out on the bench and into the presence of a +group of three—Braden, Garland and Poole.</p> + +<p>Angus halted, and without paying the least attention to them, took in +his surroundings. Then he shifted his gaze to the trio, eying them in a +silence which was broken by Mr. Braden.</p> + +<p>"What do you want here?" he demanded, in a voice which he endeavored to +make stern.</p> + +<p>"To see what you're doing on what I think is my wife's property."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden laughed.</p> + +<p>"Your wife's property! Not much. Her land—if you mean what I sold to +her father—lies east of here. This is mine. I bought it from the +government fifteen years ago."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden's tone was loud, assertive. But his eyes, after a moment, +shifted away from Angus' steady stare.</p> + +<p>"You're lying!" the latter said.</p> + +<p>"Lying, am I?" Braden snarled. "You'd better be careful what you say, +young man. This is my land, and I have the grant. Your wife has her +deeds, hasn't she? Take a look at them before you come here shooting off +your mouth."</p> + +<p>Obviously, that was the thing to do.</p> + +<p>"Why were you and French trying to buy my wife's property?" Angus +bluffed.</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about French," Mr. Braden asserted, "but I never +tried to buy your wife's property. It has nothing to do with this. I +gave the deeds of what I sold her father, to French, as his agent. I +don't know whether he tried to buy it from her or not, and I don't +care."</p> + +<p>Angus felt that he was up against a blank wall. The deeds alone would +settle the question conclusively. But possibly Braden held the erroneous +idea that the deeds had been lost or destroyed. He knew that French had +held them unregistered. He might think that Faith could not produce +evidence of ownership.</p> + +<p>"In case you have any doubt about it," Angus said, "I may tell you that +French gave the deeds to my wife before he died."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Braden merely grinned. "Well, read them," he said. "And keep off +my property after this."</p> + +<p>"You seem fairly anxious about that," Angus retorted. "You're trying to +put something over, Braden, and I give you notice to be careful. I've +had my satisfy of your dirty work."</p> + +<p>"And I give you notice to keep off my property," Mr. Braden snarled. +"You get off now, or I'll have my men throw you off!"</p> + +<p>Angus laughed, his temper beginning to stir.</p> + +<p>"Tell 'em to go to it!" he challenged. "You old crook, you've been +trying to get me ever since I was a kid. You thought you'd get my ranch, +and you came mighty near it. I'll play even with you some day, and with +the bunch you hired last summer to blow my ditch. Do you get that, +Garland, and you, Poole?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean?" Garland returned.</p> + +<p>"I never done nothing to you," Mr. Poole declared nervously.</p> + +<p>Angus eyed them grimly. "It's lucky for both of you I'm not sure," he +said.</p> + +<p>But the dispute had attracted the attention of the workmen. They rested +on their tools, watching, listening curiously. The presence of these +reserves gave Mr. Braden heart.</p> + +<p>"Get out of here!" he shouted, his voice shrill with nervous rage. "Get +off my property, and stay off! Talk about your ranch! Yours? Bah! Bought +in by a remittance man that's chasing your sister! Hi, boys! run these +fellows out!"</p> + +<p>The men started forward, and Angus recognized the leader as the big +Swede who had once been handled so roughly by Gavin French. But Mr. +Braden's taunt, his reference to Chetwood and Jean, had cut deep. +Suddenly his temper, already smouldering hotly, burst into flame. He +left his saddle with a vaulting spring, and as he touched the ground +leaped for Mr. Braden. His hand shot out and fastened upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden uttered a cry like the squeal of a rat beneath an owl's +claws. Angus jerked him forward, and drew back his right fist. But +something, perhaps the age or lack of condition of the man, restrained +him. "You old skunk!" he gritted; and releasing the shoulder opened his +right hand and swung it wide, stiff-armed. His palm cracked against Mr. +Braden's cheek and ear with a report like a pistol, knocking him flat.</p> + +<p>But the man who had followed them from the trail sprang upon Angus from +behind, trying for the small of the back with his knees. The shock drove +Angus into Garland. The three became a locked mass. Suddenly it +disintegrated. Garland staggered back, his hands to his face. The +guardian of the trail, torn from his hold, was lifted and hurled upon +the earth. Poole, stooping as Angus freed himself, caught up a rock. +Garland, his face covered with blood, was reaching beneath his coat.</p> + +<p>"Drop that rock!" Rennie roared. "Nick Garland, h'ist your hands!" Gun +in hand he menaced the oncoming rush of men. "Keep back there!" he +rasped. "Drop them mucksticks! You big Swede with that hammer, I got my +eye on you. Hands up, the bunch! Sky 'em. Now—<i>freeze</i>!"</p> + +<p>The commotion was suddenly stilled. The little man on the horse +dominated the situation. His gun menaced, controlled.</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden quavered shrill denunciation.</p> + +<p>"I'll have you arrested!" he threatened, his hand to his injured cheek. +"Assault! Trespass! Threatening with deadly weapons! We'll see what the +law has to say about this!"</p> + +<p>"Well, don't overlook this here little statute I got in my hand," Rennie +warned him. "This is one law you can't make work crooked for you."</p> + +<p>Garland cursed, shaking his fist. "If you want gun law you'll get it!" +he threatened.</p> + +<p>"I will, hey!" Rennie retorted. "I been wise some time to that shoulder +gun you pack under your coat, and I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll get +down off'n this cayuse and put up both hands empty and let you get your +hands on your gun butt. And then I'll bust your arm while you're +drawin'! How'd that suit you, you dam' four-flush?"</p> + +<p>But Garland did not see fit to accept the challenge. Rennie eyed him +with contempt. "I guess bushwhackin' 's about your limit," he said; "and +I dunno' 's you pack the nerve for <i>that</i>. Come on, Angus, let's go!"</p> + +<p>When they were down the trail and riding side by side Rennie shook his +head.</p> + +<p>"Now maybe you see how handy a gun can come in. But all that didn't do +no good. Your wife either owns the property or she don't, and the way +Braden talked, he seemed to be mighty sure about it. If I was you I'd go +and see Judge Riley."</p> + +<p>Angus did so the next day.</p> + +<p>"If you had come in yesterday instead of going off half-cocked," the +judge told him severely, "I could have shown you the deeds. They came +back some days ago. The only thing to do is to get Barnes or somebody to +make a survey and see what its boundaries are."</p> + +<p>Angus hunted up Barnes, the local surveyor, and drove him out to Faith's +ranch. The place of beginning named in the deed was with reference to +the eastern corner of the large block owned by Braden. Thence Barnes ran +his line west until according to the wording of the deed he reached the +spot which should be the easterly corner of Faith's property. Planting a +post there he continued to work west. Reaching the spot which according +to the description was the southwest corner, he turned off his angle to +work north. Angus peered through the instrument, noting where the +cross-hairs notched upon the landscape.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure this is right?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm sure," Barnes replied somewhat tartly. "If you think I +don't know my business you can get somebody else."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Angus, "this survey won't take in that round mountain at +all?"</p> + +<p>"Not a foot of it," Barnes replied. "The line will run just by its east +base."</p> + +<p>And when the survey was completed it was evident that Faith's deeds gave +her no title whatever to the land claimed by Mr. Braden. The deeds were +conclusive; Barnes' survey accurate. Suspicions amounted to nothing.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>BRADEN MISSES SOME PAPERS</h3> + + +<p>The discovery of coal coming on top of sudden activity in railway survey +filled the hills with prospectors, amateur and otherwise. But no further +discoveries were made. Indeed, Mr. Braden's discovery had been made by +accident, according to his own account of it, which was more or less +along historic lines. He proceeded serenely with development. He spoke +largely of potential output, refusing to consider tentative proposals. +Later he might organize a company and offer shares to the public, but +just then he preferred to keep the entire ownership himself. He became a +personage of more local importance than ever, deferred to, his opinions +quoted. In this notoriety he basked as in the sun. Almost daily he +visited his prospect.</p> + +<p>He was driving back to town one evening when he met Gerald French. Mr. +Braden, who for reasons of his own had rather avoided these young men +since their father's death, nodded pleasantly and would have passed on, +but Gerald stopped and held up his hand.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to have a little talk with you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Can you come in to-morrow? I'm rather in a hurry. To-night I have to +preside at a meeting."</p> + +<p>"What I have to say won't take long," young French told him. "I want to +come to a definite understanding with you about this coal property."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden, for reasons of his own, experienced a decidedly nervous +feeling. "Huh!" he said. "An understanding! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You know damned well what I mean," Gerald replied. "You and my father +were in this thing together. He had an interest—or was to have one. We +expect to have the same interest. Is that clear enough for you?"</p> + +<p>It could not be much clearer, but nevertheless Mr. Braden if not +bewildered gave an excellent imitation of that state of mind.</p> + +<p>"Your father's interest in my coal property!" he exclaimed. "There is +some mistake. Your father had no interest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he had," Gerald maintained.</p> + +<p>"But I tell you you are mistaken," Mr. Braden protested. "I give you my +absolute assurance that he had no interest whatever."</p> + +<p>"Your assurance—hell!" Gerald sneered. "What do you take me for, +anyway? Do you think I'm not wise to you?"</p> + +<p>"If you have any evidence of your father's interest, produce it," Mr. +Braden returned.</p> + +<p>"So that's the ground you take, is it?" said Gerald. "Well, I guess you +know I haven't any evidence that would hold. But all the same the two of +you were partners in this deal. I know it, whether I can prove it or +not. And what we want is to be let in on this on a fifty-fifty basis +with you."</p> + +<p>"You do, hey?" Mr. Braden replied sharply. "Well, you won't be. Your +father had no interest at all. As it is, he owes me money, which—"</p> + +<p>"Forget it!" Gerald interrupted. "He steered a lot of business your way, +and I'll bet you broke better than even. As for the coal, I saw a sample +of it on his desk months ago. <i>You</i> weren't giving out samples. Then he +was trying to buy the Winton property. Buy it? He couldn't have bought +anything the way he was fixed at the time, and you know it. You were +going to put up for it, and you know that, too."</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with the coal?"</p> + +<p>"It had something to do with it. I'm telling you that we want a slice, +and we're going to have it—somehow."</p> + +<p>"If you think I'm going to give away property to people who have no +right to it, you're much mistaken," Mr. Braden stated emphatically. "If +you can bring any evidence—"</p> + +<p>"I told you I couldn't, because I think you know that already. And you +probably know we are broke. Being broke, we're not going to be +particular about how we get money."</p> + +<p>"Are you threatening me?" Mr. Braden asked somewhat nervously.</p> + +<p>"Call it what you like. You're pretty smooth, Braden, but you're also a +hog; and you're a fool to hold out on us. You'll lose by it. Do you +think I don't know where the money came from for a lot of things—for +blowing Mackay's ditch for instance? Do you suppose I thought Garland +was putting up himself?"</p> + +<p>"Are you trying to blackmail me?" Mr. Braden demanded.</p> + +<p>"No," Gerald replied. "I'm giving you a chance now to come through."</p> + +<p>"You won't get any money from me," Mr. Braden declared. "I financed your +father from time to time for reasons of—er—friendship, but I'm not +going to do the like for you young men. If you want money, earn it like +other people."</p> + +<p>"That's your last word, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely my last."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Gerald. "Now go ahead, Braden, and be careful you +don't bump into something hard."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden drove on. At first Gerald's words gave him considerable +uneasiness, but as he thought them over he came to the comfortable +conclusion that they were principally bluff. Gerald had admitted that he +had no evidence of his father's interest. Also they were broke, as Mr. +Braden knew very well. All they had was the ranch, which was mortgaged +to the hilt, and the mortgage was far in arrears. Likely they would get +out of the country, scatter and go to the devil individually.</p> + +<p>He had seen no more of Angus Mackay, though he knew that the latter had +had a survey made. There could be no collusion between Mackay and the +French boys, to embarrass him. The latter were all more or less hostile +to Mackay, and especially Blake.</p> + +<p>So Mr. Braden drove home, had supper, presided at his meeting and sought +his own apartments. There, having lighted his lamp, he opened his little +safe and, taking out a bundle of papers, returned with them to the +light. By rights, the papers which he had abstracted from the safe of +Godfrey French should have been on top of the bundle; but they were not. +He stripped off the rubber band which bound the bundle, and ran through +it rapidly. He could not find what he sought.</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden sat up straight, his eyes widening in an expression which +bore a strong family resemblance to fear. Once more, with fingers which +shook a little, he went through the papers. Nothing! And yet he had a +distinct recollection of snapping that rubber band around them.</p> + +<p>Catching up the lamp he set it beside the safe and went through its +contents. His movements became more hurried, more nervous as his search +progressed. But at the end of it, when he had gone through the contents +of the safe half a dozen times, it was absolutely certain that his +search was in vain. He rose to his feet, but sat down because something +seemed to have happened to the stiffening of his knees.</p> + +<p>"My God!" he said aloud, "they're gone!"</p> + +<p>It appeared to be a shocking discovery. He had found the safe locked, +but somebody must have had access thereto. He felt for the key which +hung behind the safe, and found it. Nobody, to his knowledge, knew of +that hiding place; but somebody must have known of it. Naturally, he +thought of Gerald French. But if French had gone through his safe, he +would have dropped some hint of it during their interview.</p> + +<p>A new thought struck him. Was anything else missing? Engrossed in the +search for those particular papers he had not thought of that. He had no +schedule of the safe's contents, but he had an excellent memory. Once +more he went through the papers on the floor, and at last he +straightened up from his task with a full-sized oath.</p> + +<p>"Nick Garland!" he muttered. "That envelope is gone, too!"</p> + +<p>Now, some years before, Garland had secured money from Mr. Braden on a +promissory note, apparently endorsed by a well-to-do but somewhat +illiterate rancher. When the note matured Garland was unable to meet it, +and Mr. Braden intimated that he would have recourse to the liability of +the endorser. Whereupon Garland, in a panic, had admitted that he +himself had reproduced the rancher's painful scrawl. Mr. Braden secured +his signature to a statement to that effect, and filed it away with the +note. Eventually Garland paid or worked out the face of the note, but +Mr. Braden kept it and the confession as well; Garland for obvious +reasons being unable to insist upon their delivery. Now the envelope +containing that old note and the signed statement had disappeared. The +inference, to Mr. Braden, required no elaborate reasoning.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>TURKEY PLAYS A HAND</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Braden's reasoning which fixed the responsibility on Garland, was +perfectly logical; but his conclusion was entirely wrong. The missing +documents were in the possession, not of Garland, but of Turkey Mackay. +Turkey, on the night when he had seen Mr. Braden take certain papers +from French's safe, had gone to that ranch to see young Larry about a +horse. What he had seen, which included the fatal seizure of Godfrey +French, had put his errand entirely out of his head. The papers which +Braden had taken, he reasoned, must be important. The French boys would +sure raise blazes if they knew of it. Hence, he had followed Braden +home, debating the feasibility of holding him up and taking the papers +by force, but had decided against it. Reaching town he had scurried +around to the rear of Mr. Braden's apartments, and when the light went +on had chinned himself up to the window and seen him place papers, which +must be those in question, in the little safe; and he had also observed +where Mr. Braden had secured the key.</p> + +<p>Thereafter he merely awaited a favorable opportunity to investigate the +safe. There must be private papers in it which Braden would be sorry to +lose. A skunk like that would have a lot of stuff he wouldn't want +people to know about. Therefore, Turkey constructed a short ladder +which, under cover of night, he concealed beneath a pile of old lumber +in the rear of Mr. Braden's office. He found his opportunity in the +night of the meeting at which Mr. Braden presided. It was a public +meeting, and Turkey, looking in at the door of the hall, noted Mr. +Braden on the platform. It was exactly what he had been looking for. The +night was cloudy, dark, with a spatter of rain. Turkey made tracks for +his shack, and securing a short bit of steel which bore a strong family +resemblance to a jimmy, and a flashlight, hastened to the rear of Mr. +Braden's building, erected his ladder, forced the window, found the key +without difficulty and opened the safe.</p> + +<p>At first he found the safe's contents disappointing. The old accounts +and letters which he scanned hastily, seemed innocent, and what books +there were contained no record of crime. The first item of interest was +an envelope endorsed with Garland's name. This Turkey opened and read +the contents. Grinning to himself he put them in his pocket. Anyway, he +now had something on Garland. Searching further, he found what seemed to +be a conveyance in duplicate from Braden to Sewell Winton. Turkey +frowned, puzzled. Sewell Winton? That was the name of Angus' wife's +father. Then those deeds should be in her possession. What was Braden +doing with them?</p> + +<p>Suddenly Turkey thought of the night he had seen Braden and French +together in that very room, poring over documents which French had taken +away. French was Angus' wife's uncle, and had bought the property she +had lived on for her father, Turkey had heard. Now French had taken +documents away; and Braden had stolen two documents from French's safe. +Here were two documents which, though he could not identify them, were +connected more or less with both men. Unless he could find others +bearing directly on French, these must be the ones.</p> + +<p>Having reached this conclusion with the simple logic of a savage working +out a trail, Turkey placed the deeds in his pocket and continued his +search; but he found nothing more connected with French, nor were there +any other papers which looked suspicious. And so Turkey reluctantly +closed the safe, replaced the key where he had found it, reflecting that +it might come in handy again, and departed as he had come.</p> + +<p>When he reached his shack he got into his bunk as being a position +favorable to profound thought, but went to sleep before he thought of +anything. In the morning breakfast absorbed his mental faculties until +it was consumed. Then he lit a smoke and read all the papers through.</p> + +<p>Those connected with Garland were obvious enough, self-explanatory, but +he did not know just what to do with them. If he made them public he +would have to account for his possession of them. That would not do. He +would keep them for a while and see what turned up.</p> + +<p>But the deeds were a different matter. They represented ownership, and +so should be in the hands of his sister-in-law whom he had never seen. +Why hadn't Braden or French given her these deeds? Why had Braden swiped +them from French? The girl had been living on the land, so that she knew +it belonged to her. Maybe, now that French was dead, that old skunk +Braden was going to pretend that he never sold her father the place at +all. But from what he, Turkey, knew of the old Tetreau lay-out, it +wasn't worth going to much trouble about.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Turkey whistled softly and swore to himself. He must be a +bonehead! Braden wanted to get hold of that land because it was near his +coal. Sure! That was it. The darn, old crook, trying to hold out on a +girl after he'd made a strike like that on his own land! Why, the +blanked, double-dashed old hog! Angus' wife must have the deeds at once, +or Braden might put something over on her. It wouldn't do to trust the +mail or any one else. He hated to go to the ranch, but he must give them +to her himself.</p> + +<p>Turkey thereupon saddled his blue mare and clattered away. The mare was +in high spirits, the morning cool, and youth and good health surged in +Turkey's veins. As he rode he sang classics of the old frontier which +for excellent reasons have never been embalmed in type. Within a couple +of miles of his destination the road dipped down to a wooden flat, +crossed a creek and mounted a steep grade. Turkey, walking the blue +mare, was half way up when a horse and rider appeared at the top. To his +amazement they bore down on him at a run, and to his greater amazement +the rider was a girl. For anybody to run a horse down that grade was to +tempt Providence. But in a moment he realized that the horse was running +away.</p> + +<p>The girl had given up trying to hold him, and was letting him run. The +animal, a powerful bay, had the bit, and his eyes showed white. His +rider was sitting still, holding the horn with one hand, trying to +adjust her body to the thumping jar of the downhill run. She was staying +with it gamely, and though her face was white her mouth was set. She was +a complete stranger to Turkey.</p> + +<p>The latter was not foolish enough to endeavor to stop a runaway head on, +on a grade. He wheeled his mare in to the bank, giving right-of-way.</p> + +<p>"Stay with it!" he yelled. "I'll get you at the bottom!" And as the big +bay thundered past he regained the road and sent the mare down after +the runaway at a pace which even he considered risky.</p> + +<p>He reached the bottom some fifty yards behind the bay, and for the first +time called on the real speed of the mare. She overhauled rapidly, but +as he drew nearly level and reached for the rein, the bay swerved, +abandoned the road and took to the brush. But the blue mare was +accustomed to hard riding after wild, long-legged steers up and down +brush-covered coulees. She stuck to the bay, through an undergrowth that +slashed and whipped, and once more brought Turkey level. This time he +got a hold, and dragged the bay to a halt.</p> + +<p>"Th—thank you!" the girl murmured, and swayed a little, catching the +horn with both hands. "I—I think I'll get down, for a minute."</p> + +<p>"Sure!" Turkey agreed, but as he saw how she slid from the saddle he +leaped down and caught her.</p> + +<p>"I'll be all right in a minute. I must have been frightened. It's so +silly of me."</p> + +<p>She sat down on the grass, and Turkey tied the bay to a sapling. This +done he regarded the girl furtively, deciding that though not exactly +pretty, she was mighty easy to look at. Blue eyes, fair hair, nice skin, +tall and well-built. He hoped she wouldn't faint. That would be—well, +it would be embarrassing. He wouldn't know what the—that is he would be +helpless.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to faint," she said as if in answer to his thought. "I'm +just shaken up."</p> + +<p>Turkey nodded. A run down hill jolts even a hardened puncher at times. +Girls were complicated machines—soft, too. Shaking up wasn't good for +'em. But in a moment the color began to come back to her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"There," she said, "I feel better. I want to thank you really, now."</p> + +<p>"That's all right," said Turkey. "I couldn't stop him on the grade; he'd +have gone over, likely. What started him?"</p> + +<p>"A piece of newspaper blew off the sides of the road under his feet. I +couldn't hold him at all."</p> + +<p>Turkey feebly expressed his opinion of people who dropped paper beside a +road, the feebleness being due to the sex of his unknown companion.</p> + +<p>The girl regarded him closely.</p> + +<p>"You remind me of somebody," she said, "but I don't think I've ever seen +you before."</p> + +<p>"My name is Mackay," Turkey vouchsafed, and waited for a similar +confidence which did not come.</p> + +<p>"Mackay!" the girl exclaimed. Her eyes were veiled for a moment. When +she again looked him in the face their expression had altered.</p> + +<p>"Are you the Mr. Mackay who has a ranch somewhere near here?"</p> + +<p>"That's my brother, Angus," Turkey replied.</p> + +<p>"What a really Scotch name! Yours should be Donald, or Duncan, or +Murdoch?"</p> + +<p>"Worse than that," Turkey grinned. "Torquil. But most people call me +'Turkey.'"</p> + +<p>"May I call you 'Turkey'?"</p> + +<p>"If—if you like," Turkey stammered.</p> + +<p>"Well, I do like. And I like <i>you</i>, Turkey."</p> + +<p>"Huh!" said Turkey.</p> + +<p>"Really and truly I do. Don't you like me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know you," the startled Turkey responded defensively.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Turkey! what a speech! But wouldn't you like to know me better?"</p> + +<p>Gosh! was this darn girl trying to be fresh, to flirt with him.</p> + +<p>"I—I hadn't thought about it," he stammered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, worse and worse! I want you to like me, and I want you to come and +see me. I'm going to live here—in this district—for a while."</p> + +<p>Turkey cast a longing eye at the blue mare. He would feel much safer in +the saddle.</p> + +<p>"Will you pay me a visit, Turkey—a nice, long visit. I'll make you +comfy, really I will. I'd love to."</p> + +<p>This was a holy fright.</p> + +<p>"I'm mighty busy just now," he replied.</p> + +<p>"You mean you won't. That's not nice."</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe I'll drop around some time," Turkey relented.</p> + +<p>"I'll look forward to it. And you know, Turkey dear"—Turkey jumped—"in +the brave days of old when brave knights rescued ladies they were +sometimes rewarded. Would you mind very much if I kissed you?"</p> + +<p>Turkey backed hastily toward the faithful blue mare. This girl was +crazy, and that was all there was to it. She shouldn't be out alone. A +crazy girl, plum' bugs on men! A devil of a note! And it was his luck to +get into a jackpot like that!</p> + +<p>"You—you'd better not," he said desperately. "It wouldn't be right, +anyway. I—I got consumption."</p> + +<p>This amazing female laughed.</p> + +<p>"Please let me kiss you, Turkey!"</p> + +<p>"Not by a—I mean, no chance!" Turkey replied emphatically. "If you feel +able to ride I'll go along with you to wherever you're going."</p> + +<p>The girl rose obediently. But as Turkey turned to the horses two strong, +rounded arms clasped him and warm lips pressed a kiss upon his cheek. +Disengaged, he staggered back.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't so bad, was it?" the girl laughed. "You won't be so shy next +time." She drew a fringed buckskin glove from her left hand, and to +Turkey's utter horror he beheld the dull gleam of gold upon the third +finger.</p> + +<p>A wedding ring! Oh Lord! Somebody's crazy wife. Suppose the husband +showed up and found a kissing match going on!</p> + +<p>"Turkey dear," said the crazy wife, "you haven't asked me who I am."</p> + +<p>"Well, who are you?" said Turkey. Likely she would claim to be Joan of +Arc or Pocahontas, and she would be calling him old Cap. Smith next.</p> + +<p>"I am Faith Mackay, Angus' wife!"</p> + +<p>"What!" Turkey gasped.</p> + +<p>Faith laughed, her eyes dancing.</p> + +<p>"I know you'll forgive me, Turkey. But you were so funny, and so +be-yewtifully shy! You wouldn't come to our wedding, and I never saw +you, and so I couldn't resist having a little fun with you."</p> + +<p>Turkey grinned shamefacedly. "I thought you were crazy," he admitted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I thought you did. But I'm not—even if I did want to kiss you."</p> + +<p>"You can do it again if you like," Turkey suggested with sudden +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I shall when you come to pay me that long visit."</p> + +<p>Turkey frowned. "I guess you don't know how things are. Angus—"</p> + +<p>"Now, Turkey, listen to me: The whole trouble with you Mackays is that +you are too stiff-necked to get together and talk over your differences +frankly. Angus has his faults, but his good qualities outweigh them. +He's a <i>man</i>, Turkey, and I'm proud of him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's a man, all right," Turkey admitted frankly. "I never said he +wasn't. He's a darn good man; but all the same he's a darn hard man for +me to get along with. But it's funny. I was going to the ranch to-day to +see <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"That was nice of you."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean it that way. I wanted to give you the deeds to your +land."</p> + +<p>"My deeds? But I have them."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" Turkey exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm sure. My uncle gave them to me before he died."</p> + +<p>Turkey was crestfallen. She ought to know. Then what the dickens was the +junk he had in his pocket? He produced the deeds and handed them to her.</p> + +<p>"Well, all I know is that these look like deeds to your father. I +thought you ought to have 'em, so I brought 'em along."</p> + +<p>She regarded the papers with a puzzled frown.</p> + +<p>"Why they seem just the same as the others. Why should there be two sets +of deeds?"</p> + +<p>"Search me," Turkey admitted. "They're the same, are they?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. I mean they <i>look</i> the same, signatures and all." She read +the description of the property. "A thousand acres. Yes, that's the +same. Oh, wait! 'Beginning at a point ... and thence westerly—'" Her +forehead wrinkled in an effort of recollection. "Why, Turkey, they +<i>aren't</i>! I mean it's the same number of acres, but this puts my east +corner further west. I'm almost sure—Oh!"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Turkey asked, for she was staring wide-eyed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't you see—but of course you wouldn't because you don't +know—but if these deeds are real—I mean if they are the real deeds—I +own the land which Mr. Braden claims—the coal land!"</p> + +<p>The comment which burst from the lips of the startled Turkey went +unreproved.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get these?" Faith demanded.</p> + +<p>Turkey told her the truth. When he had concluded Faith sat silent, +thinking.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said at last, "there are several things I don't understand. +But one thing is clear enough: You must come back to the ranch, and you +and Angus must be friends again. I'm going to insist on that. No more +misunderstandings. We all owe you a great deal, Turkey. And I'm going to +kiss you again."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + +<h3>DUPLICATE DEEDS</h3> + + +<p>Angus entering the ranch house from the rear, was amazed to see Turkey +with his wife and Jean. But when he learned of the runaway he took his +brother's hand in a hard grip.</p> + +<p>"Go easy!" Turkey objected, rescuing his crushed digits. "You've got no +business letting her ride that cayuse. He's a new one on me."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't Doughnuts," Faith exclaimed. "It was that new bay, but I +won't do it again. But it was worth it to meet Turkey and bring him +home. Now you boys have got to make up. Turkey, tell him what you told +me."</p> + +<p>Turkey told that and more. He told of the conversation he had overheard +between Garland and Poole.</p> + +<p>"Why, I blamed you for that ditch business," Angus said.</p> + +<p>"I know you did—now; but I didn't know it that night when you came to +my shack."</p> + +<p>Turkey proceeded. He told of seeing Braden take the documents from +French's safe, and of how he had obtained them.</p> + +<p>Angus scanned the deeds which Faith handed him, and going to a desk in +the corner found those which French had given Faith. He spread them on +the table and the four bent above them. Faith caught her breath sharply.</p> + +<p>"The description of the land <i>is</i> different!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it throws your land further west—all of it. According to this +your west line would be about where we thought it was—where French +originally told you it ran."</p> + +<p>"Then—?"</p> + +<p>"Then if these are the original deeds, you own the coal prospect that +Braden is developing."</p> + +<p>"If they are the originals the others must be forgeries."</p> + +<p>"Yes. It's plain enough. The originals were made by Braden and witnessed +by French. Somehow they found this coal and then they tried to buy you +out. When you wouldn't sell but demanded your deeds, they prepared new +ones, moving your block east and leaving out the coal lands. That was +easy, because Braden owned land on either side of yours. All they had to +do was to sign the new deeds themselves. Where they slipped up was in +not destroying the originals. I don't understand that, unless French +thought their possession would give him a hold on Braden if he didn't +play fair with the coal. Braden should have destroyed them when he stole +them from French."</p> + +<p>"But what are we going to do about it?"</p> + +<p>"I had better see Judge Riley."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you and me and maybe Dave going up there and +standing up the bunch and running them off?" Turkey suggested. "I'd like +to hold a gun on Garland. I'm going to get him. That was a dirty +trick—"</p> + +<p>"We'll get him. But Braden's the man I'm after. I'll give him a taste of +the law he's so fond of."</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking of Kathleen," Faith interposed. "If Braden was a forger, +so was her father."</p> + +<p>"But you can't let that deprive you of a hill full of coal."</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't mean that. But if there is any way in which it can be kept +quiet please take it."</p> + +<p>"That will depend on Braden," Angus replied. "Anyway, I'll see Judge +Riley the first thing to-morrow."</p> + +<p>In the morning they entered Judge Riley's office before the judge had +lighted his first pipe. He listened to Turkey's story, puffing hard, +occasionally rumpling his gray mane.</p> + +<p>"I knew it," he said. "I knew that some time Braden would put his foot +outside the law. Your potential law-breaker merely waits for an +opportunity which he thinks is safe. Braden thought he was safe enough, +and he is a pretty cautious individual. It is one thing to be morally +sure that he committed forgery and another to prove it. Now, let's see +what evidence we have to go on."</p> + +<p>He spread out both sets of documents on his desk and studied them +intently.</p> + +<p>"Both," he observed after an interval, "are in my opinion actually +signed by Braden and French—one as grantor and the other as witness. I +know their signatures very well. The notarial certificate of execution +is not material, because it is separate, and could easily have been +detached from the originals and attached to the others."</p> + +<p>"Your theory is that the deeds delivered by French to your wife were +prepared recently. Let us see if we can find anything in the deeds +themselves to corroborate that. They are on identical legal forms, and +seem to have been written on the same machine, for the same letters show +poor alignment, and the face of one, the small 'c' appears to have been +injured. Let me see: I have some old letters of Braden's."</p> + +<p>Rising he took down an old letter file and searched through it, finally +removing a letter.</p> + +<p>"This, like these deeds, is dated some seven years ago, and was written +in Braden's office. It exhibits the same peculiarities of type."</p> + +<p>"Well, wouldn't that show that both deeds were drawn seven years ago?" +Angus deduced in disappointment, for so far the judge's words were not +encouraging.</p> + +<p>"Not as bad as that. It would show merely that both were prepared on a +machine owned by Braden seven years ago. Here are other letters from +him, written on another and presumably more modern machine. He may have +the old one yet. It merely points to careful preparation—painstaking +forgery. But Turkey, here, cannot testify positively that Braden was +carrying a machine in the case that night, nor did he see him write +anything on a machine. He cannot identify the machine that he did see."</p> + +<p>"No," Turkey admitted.</p> + +<p>"So that even if we found the old machine in Braden's possession, it +would prove nothing," the judge went on. "Nor can you positively +identify the documents you saw Braden abstract from French's safe?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The judge rumpled his mane and reflected.</p> + +<p>"The writing is slightly fainter in the deeds which we are trying to +prove are the more recent. That might go to show either that they were +written long ago, or recently with a dry or worn ribbon such as might +well be in an old, discarded machine. But there is not enough difference +to get us anywhere on that line. We can't depend on the testimony of +Braden's stenographer, for it is too long ago. She would probably +identify both as having been written on or about the dates which they +bear, merely by the peculiarities of type of the machine she used then. +Her evidence would probably be against us."</p> + +<p>"But take the whole thing," Angus urged. "Take French's attempt to buy +my wife out."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, you have no evidence to connect Braden with that. He +would deny all connection under oath, as he did to you. When you set out +to prove a case out of the mouth of a hostile witness, you are embarking +on a very doubtful enterprise. The fact is, Braden himself is the only +witness, and there is nothing so far to contradict the evidence he will +undoubtedly give if called."</p> + +<p>"But how can he account for the existence of two sets of deeds?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," the judge replied, "but he will account for them. Don't +underestimate him. He's a cunning fox. Suppose I put myself in his +place. Assume that the documents delivered to your wife by French are +forgeries. The originals I should have destroyed, but did not. They are +stolen from my safe. I do not know who has them. I may suspect Garland, +because of the disappearance of the other paper, but I am not sure. In +any event I must provide against the possibility that they may be used +against me. Now what story will hold water? What would be plausible?"</p> + +<p>He drummed his spatulate fingers on his desk, his eyes half closed.</p> + +<p>"My effort," he resumed after a moment's silence, "has been to duplicate +the originals in every detail, to make it appear that the second were +prepared some seven years ago. Then my explanation must be one which +will naturally account for the preparation of two sets of deeds on or +about the same date. And that can only be because there was some mistake +in the first which rendered the preparation of the second necessary. +Now, what is the most natural mistake, the most everyday, common +mistake?"</p> + +<p>He paused again.</p> + +<p>"Misdescription!" he announced, "a misdescription of the property, a +clerical error in that. And it's so profoundly simple! The instrument +signed and witnessed carelessly, without comparison; then the discovery +that the land was wrongly described, followed by the preparation of a +second conveyance, and neglect to destroy the first, which of course is +void both by error and lack of delivery. There you are! That's Braden's +defense. And the devil of it is, that without evidence to contradict it +it's perfectly good."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean he gets away with it?" Turkey exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"On the face of it he does," the judge replied, "but sometimes faces +alter. No man can construct evidence without a weak spot somewhere. +Leave these papers with me. I'll think the whole thing over again."</p> + +<p>When his clients had gone he refilled his pipe and put his feet on his +desk. He sat for an hour, motionless, his cold pipe between his teeth. +Then once more he scrutinized the deeds carefully, looking at the faulty +type. At last he held them to the light and peered at them. Then he +brought his gnarled old fist down.</p> + +<p>"By George!" he muttered, "it's a slim chance, and unprofessional as the +devil, but it's about the only one I see. As matters stand, it would be +folly to launch an action. 'Conscience makes cowards.' That's truer than +most proverbs, and Braden's a rank coward at heart. I'll give him a few +days to get really nervous, and then I'll try it. It may work—yes, it +<i>may</i> work."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + +<h3>GARLAND PLAYS A HAND</h3> + + +<p>As Mr. Braden was quite sure that Garland had abstracted the deeds he +expected to receive a proposition from him. When this did not come he +was puzzled. What was Garland waiting for? Was it possible that he was +dickering with Mackay?</p> + +<p>The result of this uncomfortable suspicion was that he began to sound +Garland, speaking carelessly of Faith's claim to the property, +ridiculing it. Garland, being by no means a fool, began to wonder why +Braden recurred to the subject, and began to lead him on.</p> + +<p>"What made her think she owned the thing?" he asked. "If her deeds are +all right they ought to show her what's hers."</p> + +<p>This confirmed Braden's suspicions.</p> + +<p>"You heard Mackay say French gave them to her before he died."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I heard that," said Garland. But if Braden kept insisting on those +deeds there must be something crooked about them. If they had been made +years ago, why hadn't they been handed over? And why was Braden talking +to him? The only answer was that he must be supposed to know something +which he did not. However, being a fair poker player he remembered that +the bluff of a pat hand has been known to win. He shot at a big venture: +"As long as she doesn't know any more than those deeds tell her, I guess +she won't make you any trouble," he said.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt at all in Mr. Braden's mind now about Garland.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "are you going to make trouble for me—I mean are +you going to try to?"</p> + +<p>Garland was amazed at the result of his random shot, but had no +objection to picking up the birds thus fallen at his feet.</p> + +<p>"Not if you do the fair thing," he replied.</p> + +<p>"What do you call fair?" Mr. Braden demanded.</p> + +<p>Garland was in deep water. Braden wanted him to put a price on silence. +Well, he had no idea of the price Braden would be prepared to pay.</p> + +<p>"Fifty-fifty," he replied at a venture.</p> + +<p>"Fifty-fifty!" Mr. Braden echoed. "Why, you hold-up, you sneaking +safe-robber, I'll see you damned first. Those deeds you stole aren't +worth the paper they're written on."</p> + +<p>Here was real news for Garland. Deeds had been stolen from Braden's +safe. If they were the real deeds of the property and French and Braden +had delivered bogus ones to that girl, then Braden was in a devil of a +mess. And Braden thought <i>he</i> had them.</p> + +<p>"I'll take a chance on that," he replied.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Braden, since the loss of the deeds, had been busy mentally +constructing a bomb-proof defense, and this had taken very nearly the +form anticipated by Judge Riley.</p> + +<p>"Then you won't get a nickel out of it," he told Garland. "They might +make a certain amount of trouble, but that's all. I'm not going to be +held up. You think because you stole that old note and statement of +yours when you took the deeds that I've no strings on you? Well, you try +anything and see."</p> + +<p>Garland in his surprise nearly exposed his hand. Here was a rotten +complication, which gave him a very live interest in the affair. While +evidence of his old transgression was in Braden's hands he had been sure +it would not be used. But now somebody else had it. Who would have an +interest in taking it, as well as deeds affecting the coal lands? +Obviously Mackay, who would like nothing better than to get something on +him.</p> + +<p>The position, then, in Garland's mind was that Angus Mackay had evidence +which proved his wife's title to the coal lands. But Braden thought that +he, Garland, had it. Mackay, also, had evidence of his, Garland's old +forgery. He must get that back. As to Braden's misapprehension he must +turn that to his own advantage. Braden, in his opinion, was simply +bluffing as to the nonimportance of the deeds. If he could get hold of +them he could hold Braden up. Also he would knock Mackay out of a very +promising property. But he must lose no time. It was a wonder Mackay had +not taken some action already.</p> + +<p>"Keep your shirt on," he advised Braden. "Don't try to bluff me. You +know if Mackay got hold of those papers it would raise the devil with +you. They show who really owns the property."</p> + +<p>"They are a mistake," Mr. Braden returned. "I mean they were drawn by +mistake. French gave the girl her deeds."</p> + +<p>Garland grinned. "Suppose he had given her the others, where would you +be?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose nothing of the sort!" Mr. Braden snapped. "I tell you they're +no good. You might as well give them back to me."</p> + +<p>"What do you want them for—if they're no good?" Garland grinned.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you a hundred dollars for them."</p> + +<p>Garland merely laughed, and though Mr. Braden increased his offer to +five hundred it was not accepted. He was reluctant to go higher, first, +because it would show Garland that he considered the deeds worth real +money; and second, because Garland did not seem anxious to press his +blackmail. The latter circumstance puzzled Mr. Braden. What was Garland +up to, anyway? He did not threaten to deal with Mackay, after that +single reference to him. Mr. Braden knew that he hated Angus, and +preferably would not deal with him. And so it was his own play to wait +and let the next suggestion come from Garland. There, temporarily, the +matter rested, because neither was in a position to press it to a +finish.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Braden, though he had what so far as he could see was a +perfectly good legal defense, experienced certain inward qualms. There +was always the possibility that something might go wrong with a defense, +if it came to that. That old Riley, for instance, who looked like a +scarred Airedale, would enjoy baiting him. He might find some flaw, some +kink of law, which might be embarrassing. Mr. Braden knew that his nerve +was not of the sort to stand a grueling by skilled counsel, especially +if he slipped once or twice. His would be almost the sole evidence. +There was comfort in that, but there was also responsibility.</p> + +<p>Looking into the future Mr. Braden foresaw the possibility of a +situation in which the possession of actual cash would be very +convenient if not necessary. He might have to pay Garland a lump sum. +Or, if he refused to do so and Garland made a deal with Mackay, he might +have to stand a trial. It might be a mere civil action to establish the +validity of the missing deeds; of it might be a charge of forgery. In +any event it would give him most undesirable publicity. His affairs were +very badly involved, and it would then be very hard to raise money. If +all went well, the coal would pull him out of the financial hole he was +in, and put him on his feet again. But meantime it would be prudent to +get together as much cash as he could. And so, very quietly, he set +about accumulating as much currency as possible, and as he obtained it +he placed it in his office safe, having now no confidence in his private +one. He regarded it as accident insurance.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Garland was making arrangements of his own. The job of +obtaining anything from Angus Mackay was not going to be easy, and +reluctantly he made up his mind that it was too big to be tackled +single-handed. Assistance meant sharing the profits, but unfortunately +it seemed to be a case. He thought of Poole, and would have preferred +him, but Mr. Poole packed no sand whatever. Finally he decided on Blake +French. Not that Blake had any too much courage, but he hated Mackay, +and having rapped him on the head once, he might be counted on to do it +again if necessary. Poole might be used for a scout, without telling him +a great deal.</p> + +<p>Blake French fell in with Garland's proposals with alacrity. He had had +trouble with his brothers since his father's death, culminating in a +short but vicious battle with Larry, in which the latter had got the +best of it. He suspected his brothers of having funds which they refused +to share with him. He himself was flat broke, without money to pay for +his numerous drinks. His brothers treated him as an outsider. He was +sure they were holding out on him. If he could get a share in that coal +proposition he would have the laugh on them; also it would be a chance +to get square with Mackay. And so he and Garland began to lay plans +looking to the acquisition of the missing deeds. The matter seemed +simplified for them by the circumstance that Angus Mackay and his bride +were now living, temporarily at least, in her cottage on the dry ranch. +This strengthened the hypothesis that Mackay had the deeds and was +living close to the coal prospect in order to keep an eye on it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> + +<h3>THE TURNING OF THE SCREW</h3> + + +<p>If Mr. Braden had been puzzled by Garland's conduct in the first +instance, he became more so. Garland made him no proposition. The +thought that the latter might be dickering with the French boys crossed +Mr. Braden's mind, but was open to the objection that he would have to +share blackmail with them. On the whole, Mr. Braden concluded that he +had bluffed Garland. After a while the latter would part with the +document cheaply.</p> + +<p>Hence, when he received a visit from Judge Riley one day about the close +of business hours, he was very little perturbed. Mackay perhaps had +taken legal advice on his supposed right, or the judge might have come +on other business. But the lawyer's first words cleared up that point.</p> + +<p>"I am here," he said, "on behalf of my client, Mrs. Mackay. You are +aware that she claims ownership of the land on which coal has been +found?"</p> + +<p>"Her claim is nonsense," Mr. Braden asserted stoutly.</p> + +<p>"That's just what I am trying to clear up. As a result of what French +told her she always supposed she owned the land."</p> + +<p>"I'm not responsible for what French told her. I'm getting tired of this +absurd claim of hers. Her land is described in her deeds. That's her +evidence of title. You ought to know that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that," the judge admitted mildly. "As it happens, she is +now able to produce a deed from you to her father conveying the land in +question."</p> + +<p>It was so entirely unexpected that Mr. Braden's heart decidedly +misbehaved. How in the name of all bad luck had this happened? Had +Garland, after all, made a dicker with Mackay? Had Mackay got those +infernal deeds? Or had he merely a suspicion, which Riley was trying to +confirm by a fishing trip for a damaging admission?</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," the judge replied cheerfully. "To be quite frank with you, our +position is this: French, shortly before his death, delivered to his +niece a conveyance in duplicate from you to her father purporting to +convey certain lands therein described. This land lies immediately east +of the coal lands, but does not include them. We claim that this latter +conveyance is the true and original one."</p> + +<p>"Where did you get it?" Mr. Braden demanded.</p> + +<p>"Suppose French, feeling his end approaching, gave it to his niece?"</p> + +<p>"He—" Mr. Braden began and checked himself suddenly. Riley was laying +verbal traps for him. He must be careful. "If you have this conveyance, +let me see it."</p> + +<p>"You will see it at the proper time."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you haven't got it," Mr. Braden charged.</p> + +<p>The judge smiled. "You think I am trying to trap you into an admission. +Nothing of the sort. I said we could produce the documents. The only +difference between them and the others is the description of the +property. Same date, same witness. It's useless to deny the existence of +documents which I myself have seen."</p> + +<p>There was no doubt that the judge was telling the truth. So Garland had +sold out to Mackay. Mr. Braden's front trenches were carried, but he +believed his second line to be impregnable.</p> + +<p>"I'm not denying its existence. I know all about the thing, including +the fact that it was stolen from me."</p> + +<p>"The main thing is that it exists."</p> + +<p>"It exists, but it is worthless."</p> + +<p>"My clients consider it rather valuable."</p> + +<p>"I suppose they paid for it, but they've been stung. When I sold that +land to Winton, a clerk in my office prepared the deeds and got the +description wrong. When I discovered the error I had new deeds prepared +and executed, and they are what I suppose French gave to Winton's +daughter. I supposed he had given them to Winton long ago. So there you +are! You've found a mare's nest, and that's all there is to it."</p> + +<p>Judge Riley chuckled internally, though his face was grave. Braden was +doing the obvious.</p> + +<p>"Don't you compare conveyances before execution in your office?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. But in this case the error was in the description which +the clerk prepared and gave to the stenographer to copy. She copied it, +and it was compared with what had been given her."</p> + +<p>"Then who discovered the error?"</p> + +<p>"I did. It struck me that the description was not correct."</p> + +<p>"After you had signed it and French had witnessed it?"</p> + +<p>"Y—yes." There was hesitation in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Don't you read things over before you sign and have your signature +witnessed? Why didn't it strike you then?"</p> + +<p>"You aren't cross-examining me!" Mr. Braden asserted.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I am just trying to understand a situation which is rather +extraordinary. Then, as I understand it, you had a new conveyance +prepared, and delivered it to French, and that's all you know about it?"</p> + +<p>"That's all," Mr. Braden confirmed.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you destroy the other one?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I overlooked it. The papers got among others."</p> + +<p>"And into your private safe."</p> + +<p>"Yes. And they were stolen from it."</p> + +<p>"But then you say they're worthless. You say that the two sets of papers +were drawn on the same day? The second wasn't prepared subsequently and +dated back?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden hesitated, trying to read the purpose behind the question. He +was again beginning to distrust Riley, who undoubtedly resembled an +Airedale.</p> + +<p>"I'm almost sure it was the same day. It may have been the next."</p> + +<p>"But at all events within, say, forty-eight hours?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps your stenographer might remember? Or your clerk?"</p> + +<p>"That clerk is dead," said Mr. Braden without noticeable regret. "My +stenographer might or might not remember. But she could identify the +papers as being written about the same time on the same machine."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Because I had only one machine in my office at that time, and that had +certain peculiarities of type. I scrapped it soon after that, and got a +new one. If you'll compare the deeds, you'll see they must have been +written on the same machine."</p> + +<p>"A very fair point," the judge admitted blandly. "You have an excellent +memory for details. But even if you establish that they were written on +the same machine, it would not prove that they were written on the same +day. For that you would have to depend on your evidence and that of your +stenographer."</p> + +<p>"I don't have to prove when they were written," Mr. Braden stated. "The +date of an instrument is <i>prima facie</i> evidence. I know a little law +myself, Riley."</p> + +<p>"A little law is a very dangerous thing to know," the judge commented.</p> + +<p>"And I'm not going to be cross-examined by you," Mr. Braden declared. +"If you contend that those deeds were made at different times it's up to +you to prove it. Can you do that, hey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the judge replied. "Absolutely!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden almost jumped, and his heart again misbehaved.</p> + +<p>"H—how?" he asked in a voice which shook slightly.</p> + +<p>"In this way," the judge replied: "The conveyance delivered by French to +his niece and dated some seven years ago, is on paper bearing the +watermark of a firm which did not exist, much less manufacture a single +sheet of paper, until two years ago!"</p> + +<p>It was a terrible blow, direct, unexpected, smashing through Mr. +Braden's elaborate system of defense. It produced the shattering, +shocking effect of high explosive. For a moment he was speechless. He +rallied feebly.</p> + +<p>"It's—it's a lie!" he stammered. "They were written on the same legal +forms, printed by the same firm."</p> + +<p>"On the same legal forms," the judge conceded. "But law stationers as a +rule don't manufacture their own paper." His face became grim, his voice +rose, and he drove his accusation home as in the old days of his +greater prosperity he had broken other carefully prepared testimony.</p> + +<p>"That one detail, Braden, overlooked by you and French, destroys +entirely the plausible story you have invented. I am prepared to prove, +and prove to the hilt, that the deeds delivered by French to my client +are forgeries, prepared by you both to defraud a young woman of land +which, instead of being worthless as you supposed it to be when you sold +it to her father in fraudulent collusion with French, you suddenly +discovered to have a high potential value. I say I am prepared to prove +this, including the writing of the forged instruments on the same +machine. I am prepared to prove, too, how the original deeds passed from +French's possession to yours. You are in danger of standing in the dock +facing a charge which carries a very heavy penalty. You must decide here +and now, whether or not you will face that charge, and the damning +evidence which I am prepared to bring against you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden quailed before the stern voice and menacing finger of the old +lawyer. He was not of the stuff to fight up hill, to play out a losing +game to the last chip. What was the use? The judge had the goods on him. +He sagged in his chair, all fight gone, his face white, his heart +choking him.</p> + +<p>"Don'—don't prosecute me, Riley!" he pleaded in a shaking voice. "I'll +do anything you say. What do you want?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2> + +<h3>SIGNS AND OMENS</h3> + + +<p>The reason of the temporary residence of Angus and his wife at her +cottage lay principally in her whim. Angus laughed at it, but yielded, +and found it rather pleasant to be alone with his wife. From force of +habit he found a number of jobs which needed doing, things which should +be put in order before the winter; but Faith insisted that it was to be +a holiday. And so by day they rode leisurely along the base of the +hills, rested at noon beside clear springs, ate with healthy appetites, +and in the evenings returned to the cottage. Then there would be the +cheery open fire against the chill of the fall night, and by its +flickering light the banjo would talk and whimper, and chuckle, until +Faith, laying it aside, would snuggle against her husband, watching the +red heart of the fire, giving free rein to fancy.</p> + +<p>So, she thought and said, men and women had sat in the dim, forgotten +nights of the world, when the Red Flower first bloomed on the rude +hearts of cave and forest and beside the lone beaches of dead seas. +Angus laughed at her fancies, but in his own heart the spell of gut and +string and fire stirred something, too; and when the winds soughed +around the cottage and strained through the tree-tops he found himself +listening subconsciously for he knew not what.</p> + +<p>"You are a dreamer, too," Faith accused him.</p> + +<p>"I will be in about ten minutes."</p> + +<p>"You might as well 'fess up. I wonder if you and I ever sat before a +fire in a cave, together?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember it, myself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you may laugh, but it seems real to me—to-night. The wind in the +trees is like the hiss and roar of squall-swept seas. I can hear other +things, too—the soft padding of feet, and heavy, grunting, snuffling +breaths. That is the tiger or the great cave bear. But they can't get +in, because you have rolled the stone against the mouth of our cave."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I forgot it?"</p> + +<p>"Then to pay for your carelessness, you would have to fight old Sabre +Tooth. You would fight to the death for me, wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"And for myself."</p> + +<p>"Be gallant, please."</p> + +<p>"Cave men weren't gallant. They walloped ladies with clubs and abducted +them."</p> + +<p>"Happy thought. You have abducted me. No, not that, either, because I +was never anybody's but yours. But there is a very great warrior who is +trying to take me from you."</p> + +<p>"The old warrior sure has some nerve. What am I doing about that time?"</p> + +<p>"You fight," she told him, her eyes on the heart of the fire, "while I +stand by praying to the unknown God that you may kill him. And you do +kill him. And then you set your foot on his body and shake your war club +on high and shout a great wild song to the stars. Oh, I can see you now! +There is blood on your face, and the club is dripping with it, and I can +hear the fierce song!"</p> + +<p>"I'll bet the singing is fierce, too," Angus commented. But to his +surprise she was trembling in his arms, every nerve aquiver. "What the +dickens! Old girl, you're shaking! There now, that's plenty of that +nonsense. It isn't good for sleeping."</p> + +<p>For a moment she clung to him. "I'm awfully silly. But somehow it +seemed real—to-night. I wonder if it ever did happen?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's funny. I was just making it up. And then suddenly I felt +that instead of making it up I was <i>recollecting</i>."</p> + +<p>As she paused, Angus' ear caught a faint sound from without. To him it +resembled the faint creak of a board beneath a stealthy footstep. For an +instant his body tensed.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Faith asked. "Have you nerves, too?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of. Turn in now and get a good rest, and don't dream of +things."</p> + +<p>But when she had gone to her room he yawned, stretched himself, wound +the clock and passed into the hall leading to the kitchen. There hung +his belt with holster and gun. He took the gun, went swiftly through the +kitchen and outside. He circled the house, but neither saw nor heard +anything, and so he went in again. But when he turned in, having +extinguished the light, he laid the gun on the floor beside the bed, and +in the morning smuggled it out without Faith's knowledge. Before she had +risen he examined the ground around the house, but found no footprints +other than their own. And so he came to the conclusion that whatever he +had heard had not been a footstep.</p> + +<p>He pottered around all morning, and in the afternoon decided to ride in +to town and see Judge Riley. The latter might have some news.</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't go," Faith decided. "I have bread to bake, and it's too +far, anyway. I'll have supper ready when you get back."</p> + +<p>But when Angus reached the judge's office it was closed. In the post +office he found a note from him, consisting of four words: "Want to see +you," and upon inquiry he learned that the lawyer had driven out with +Dr. Wilkes to see a rancher named McLatchie who being taken suddenly ill +had sent for legal as well as medical assistance. Angus decided to wait. +As he strolled down the street he met Rennie emerging from Dr. Wilkes' +office.</p> + +<p>"Hello," he said. "What's the matter with <i>you</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing with me," Rennie returned. "I was just doin' an errand. But +they tell me the doc's out."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Angus asked, for Rennie's face was troubled.</p> + +<p>"You ain't heard? Well, Mary, that granddaughter of old Paul Sam, has +been missin' some days, and to-day they find her—drowned."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" Angus exclaimed. "How did it happen?" Rennie's face +darkened.</p> + +<p>"I dunno. They say she drowned herself. They say some white man is mixed +up in it. She was a notch or two above the ordinary klootch, and so—oh, +well, it's just the same old rotten mess!"</p> + +<p>"Poor girl!" Angus said after a moment of silence. "This will be hard on +old Paul Sam. Do the Indians know this white man?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno. I heard—mind you I dunno what there is in it—that Blake +French is the man. He's dirty enough. But I dunno's the Injuns know it. +I seen old Paul Sam. He wasn't talkin'. Just sittin' starin' straight +ahead. And the klootch lyin' on her bed alongside him where they'd put +her down. Ugh! Some of 'em wanted to send the doc out. He makes reports +of deaths and such to the government, and then he's coroner. So I +come."</p> + +<p>The event touched Angus deeply. He had known the dead girl all his life. +She was, as Rennie said, a notch or two above the ordinary klootch. Paul +Sam, too, was a good Indian, a friend of his and of his father's, so far +as the white man who knows the Indian admits him to friendship. It would +be a heavy blow for the old man. But unless some of the young bucks took +the law into their own hands it was unlikely that the man responsible +for the tragedy—Blake French or another—would suffer at all.</p> + +<p>It was long after dark when the judge drove in, and Angus waiting at the +livery stable, greeted him.</p> + +<p>"How's McLatchie?" he asked. The judge, with emphasis, consigned +McLatchie to torment.</p> + +<p>"A bellyache!" he exclaimed, "and he thought he was going to die. I +wanted Wilkes to cut him open, just as a lesson. And will you believe +me, the damned Scotch—I beg your pardon, Angus, I mean the damned +lowlander—when the fear of God produced by the fear of death left his +rotten heart with the pain from his equally rotten stomach, refused to +make his will. I made him do it, though—and pay for it. Well, you got +my note. Come up to the office, where we can talk."</p> + +<p>But when he had lit a couple of lamps which illuminated his office and +turned to his desk he stopped short.</p> + +<p>"Somebody's been in here," he said. "Things are not as I left them." He +drew out the drawers of his desk. "Aha!" he exclaimed, for the papers +they held had evidently been taken out and jammed back in disorder. "Now +what misguided idiot thought a law office worth robbing? I wonder, +now—By the Lord! but I believe that's it!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Why somebody's been after <i>your</i> documents," the judge replied. "O-ho, +Braden, me buck! You must think I'm a fool!"</p> + +<p>"You mean you think Braden was trying to get back the original deeds?"</p> + +<p>"And something else. It's a poor tribute he pays to my intelligence, +thinking I'd leave such papers lying at the mercy of a flimsy door lock. +People think I am careless, old-fashioned, because they can't see a safe +in my office. Well, anybody can blow a safe—if the safe can be found. I +had one blown once, and it was nearly the ruin of me. But look here!" A +section of wainscoting swung out under his hand, revealing the face of a +steel safe. "No local man had anything to do with installing this," the +judge said; "and back of it is a false wall to my inner room." He spun +the combination and threw the door open. Taking out a thick envelope he +drew from it a single sheet of paper which he handed to Angus.</p> + +<p>Angus read in amazement. It was a brief statement signed by Braden +acknowledging forgery by French and himself, and an acknowledgment of +the authenticity of the original deeds.</p> + +<p>"How on earth did you get this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The judge told him.</p> + +<p>"Well, that was mighty clever of you," Angus said in admiration. "I'd +never have thought of that."</p> + +<p>"Braden didn't either," the judge said drily. "And what's more he never +thought that my statement about the watermark might be worth verifying."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean you bluffed him?" Angus exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"It was the only way," the judge nodded. "His story, stuck to through +thick and thin, would have prevailed because we had no evidence to +contradict it. But being guilty, it never occurred to him to demand an +inspection of the papers. It may have occurred to him now. He may have +searched my office in my absence, hoping to get back his confession as +well as the deeds. But most of us realize our mistakes too late."</p> + +<p>"Judge" Angus said solemnly, "you are a wonder."</p> + +<p>"When I was your age I would have agreed with that," the judge grinned. +"But I am merely an old dog with some experience of foxes. This settles +Braden's hash. He will leave town—and possibly leave some creditors."</p> + +<p>"I thought he had plenty of money."</p> + +<p>"He has lost a good deal lately in speculation—lost it or tied it up. I +imagine he will get together what cash he can and leave. His debts are +none of my business. I will now have these deeds registered, and you +will have no more trouble about title."</p> + +<p>"When you send me your bill, put in the watermark."</p> + +<p>"My bill will have a sufficiently high watermark to suit you," the judge +chuckled. "And now, young man, I'm too old to be modest. Naturally you +will incorporate, sooner or later, to work this property to advantage. I +want to incorporate you, and I want such of the company's legal work as +I am competent to handle."</p> + +<p>"That's all of it."</p> + +<p>"I meant that," the judge admitted. "And if I were permitted to buy a +block of stock on as good terms as anybody I would take it."</p> + +<p>"That goes, of course," Angus agreed, "and it doesn't by any means +cancel our obligation to you. And now I must be drifting. My wife is +alone, and I was to have been back by supper."</p> + +<p>"You'll have a dark ride."</p> + +<p>"My horse has good feet. Good night, judge, and thank you again."</p> + +<p>The wind struck Angus hard as he left the office. It was blowing great +guns, and as the judge had said, it was very dark. When he left the +lights behind it was better as his eyes became accustomed to the +darkness. But ragged clouds hung low, and the mountains usually visible +against even the sky of night could not be seen. The wind was roaring +through the tops of the firs with a sound of running waves. But the road +was good, and when Chief of his own notion struck into a long, +trail-devouring lope, he did not check him.</p> + +<p>He was suddenly anxious to get back to Faith. He wished to tell her the +good news, but that did not account for the uneasy feeling that +possessed him, tugging at his ordinarily steady nerves. There seemed to +be no reason for it; yet it persisted and even increased. He realized +with disgust that he was nervous. Something seemed to impend. The roar +of the wind was sinister, minatory. The darkness seemed to hover above +like a bird of prey, ready to strike. He swore angrily at himself for +such fancies.</p> + +<p>"I've got the nerves of a squirrel to-night," he muttered. "I'll be +seeing things next. Go on, Chief, old boy! Leak out of here!"</p> + +<p>With the touch of his feel the big chestnut settled to the business of +covering ground. The wind increased, and with it came rain, huge drops +driving like buckshot, stinging as they hit. Somewhere off the road a +tree snapped and crashed down.</p> + +<p>"Timber!" Angus shouted to the darkness, for the storm and the pace were +getting into his blood, and with their entry his nervousness was +replaced by a feeling of exhilaration. Then the chestnut rose in a clean +sailing jump, and Angus realized that he had cleared a fallen tree. But +he did not slacken speed.</p> + +<p>They were off the main road now, on the less used trail, and the ranch +was little over a mile distant. Angus could picture Faith waiting, +wondering what had detained him, perhaps a little anxious because of the +storm. She would laugh when he told her that he had suffered from +nerves. She—</p> + +<p>Chief snorted, leaped, and something caught Angus across the chest. For +a moment it yielded, tautened and snapped back, tearing his tight grip +loose. At the pace he was riding it plucked him from the saddle as a +hawk lifts a chick from the brood, flinging him backward to the earth. +He struck it heavily on his shoulders and the back of his head. He had a +dim impression of somebody or something leaping on him, of a blow, and +then darkness shut down absolutely.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI</h2> + +<h3>TERROR</h3> + + +<p>Toward five o'clock, her bread being baked, Faith put in the oven a pan +containing two young mallards and a blue grouse, all overlaid with +strips of bacon. She made her vegetables ready and set the table. Now +and then she glanced from the window expectantly, but saw nothing of +Angus. When dusk came she lighted the lamps.</p> + +<p>Finally she ate her own supper alone, slightly annoyed. Angus had +promised to be back in time. Something must have detained him. She put +his meal in the warming oven, sat down and tried to read. But somehow +the book failed to interest. She had recourse to the banjo, but that +little sister of the lonesome failed of charm. The wind rose until it +was blowing a gale. Once she went to the door and looked out. The +darkness seemed intense.</p> + +<p>Ten o'clock came. What on earth was keeping Angus? She began to worry, +which she told herself was absurd. Resolutely she sat down and picked up +a book. She would not allow herself to be stampeded by nerves. She made +up her mind to sit on that couch before the fire until her husband +returned.</p> + +<p>She found it hard to keep this resolution. She craved movement. She +wanted a drink, an apple, a different book—anything, to get up and move +around. But she resisted these assaults on her will.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts reverted to the foolery of the preceding night. She had +pretended to be a cave woman with her man. Now she was alone. What +happened to those ancient women whose men went out never to return? How +long did they feed the fire o' nights, and listen alone to the noises of +the dark? The fancy proved more attractive than the book. She leaned +back comfortably, enjoying the play of her imagination, constructing the +life story of an unknown sister in the dawn of the world and presently, +in proof that there was nothing seriously wrong with her nerves, she +fell asleep before the fire.</p> + +<p>She woke with a start. There were footsteps in the house. Angus, then, +had come back. She smiled, contented. She would scold him—in fun. But +as she listened the footsteps seemed to differ from his firm, light +tread. The handle of the door turned and a man who was not Angus stood +framed in the opening—a man who wore a handkerchief across his face, +whose eyes, invisible beneath the shadow of a broad hatbrim, peered at +her through holes cut in the fabric.</p> + +<p>Though a horrible, sinking feeling of nervousness assailed her, she did +not cry out. She regarded the intruder in silence. As he came into the +room she stared at him—at his leather chaps, at the gun in its holster, +at his hands, taking in every little detail. He spoke.</p> + +<p>"Don't be scared," he said in deep tones which she judged were +unnatural. "You won't be hurt."</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid," she replied, and was surprised to find her voice quite +steady. "What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"I want those deeds."</p> + +<p>He could mean only the deeds Turkey had given her. Then he must be an +emissary of Braden. Obviously it was not Braden himself. But how could +he know who had the deeds?</p> + +<p>"Now, listen," the masked man added as she did not reply: "I know you +have them. I know they are here in this house. You'll save trouble by +handing them over."</p> + +<p>"I'll do nothing of the sort," Faith told him; "and you had better go +before my husband comes home."</p> + +<p>The masked man laughed. "Your husband won't be home for a while. If you +won't give them to me I'll find them myself."</p> + +<p>"Very well," Faith replied. "But don't break anything, please."</p> + +<p>"You've got nerve, all right," the man conceded. As he spoke another man +similarly masked entered, standing by the door. The first turned to him +and they held a whispered conversation. "Well, we'll look for 'em," the +first man announced. "If you're sensible you'll just sit quiet."</p> + +<p>Faith sat quietly while they took a leisurely survey of the room. Her +writing desk in the corner was their first objective point. Suddenly it +came to her that their manner of procedure was too leisurely. They did +not fear interruption. She remembered the first man's words when she had +spoken of her husband. Was his continued absence in some way due to +them? She felt a sickening apprehension, a feeling of desertion, of +helplessness.</p> + +<p>She began to study the intruders, to find if she could note something by +which to identify them. There was nothing recognizable about the first. +The second was a big man. His face was quite invisible. A riding slicker +concealed most of his figure. She had not heard his voice. And yet she +found something elusively familiar in his presence.</p> + +<p>From her bedroom she heard the sounds of drawers pulled out and closed +and the slam of a trunk lid. She would have been amused at the +hopelessness of their search but for her growing anxiety for her +husband. Even if he did come, they were armed and he was not. The search +progressed from one room to another, and as it did so it became more +impatient. At last they gave it up, and the first man advanced to her.</p> + +<p>"You have those papers pretty well cached," he admitted. "Where are +they?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to find them."</p> + +<p>"You can cut that out. Now you're going to tell us where they are."</p> + +<p>"Am I?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I said. Now see here; I'm going to give it to you straight: +Your husband isn't going to come home till we turn him loose. He told us +you had those deeds. When you give 'em up you'll see him, and not +before."</p> + +<p>"My husband never told you anything of the sort," Faith said. "You're +merely bluffing."</p> + +<p>"Bluffing or not, we're going to get what we came for. You're alone. +There isn't a living soul in miles. We don't want to hurt you or your +husband, but if you've got any sense you'll give up, and save trouble +for everybody."</p> + +<p>"What you want isn't here," Faith told him.</p> + +<p>"Where are those deeds? Who has them?"</p> + +<p>"I won't tell you."</p> + +<p>"We know they are here. Riley hasn't got them, because we've gone +through his office. And your husband hasn't got them, because we've gone +through <i>him</i>. So you have them. You can't bluff us. No more nonsense, +now!" He caught her wrist with one hand, while with the other he thrust +the muzzle of his gun in her face. "Hand them over," he snarled +ferociously, "or say your prayers!"</p> + +<p>But in spite of the fact that the ring of steel almost touched her +forehead Faith was not convinced. It was melodrama, tawdry, poor. The +man was a poor actor. She laughed in his face.</p> + +<p>"Take care!" she said, "you are hurting my wrist."</p> + +<p>For a moment the muzzle touched her forehead and the grip tightened. +Then he flung her wrist aside.</p> + +<p>"What the hell can you do with a woman, anyway?" he demanded in disgust. +But his companion sprang forward. "You let her bluff you," he growled +hoarsely, "but she won't bluff me!" He caught Faith by the throat. +"Where are they?" he demanded. "Talk quick, or I'll choke you!" His +fingers compressed her throat till she gasped. The strong taint of +alcohol met her nostrils.</p> + +<p>"No, damn it!" the first man cried, in protest; but his companion cursed +him, swinging Faith between them.</p> + +<p>"You keep out of this!" he cried savagely. "I'll make her talk inside a +minute!" And his grip shut down.</p> + +<p>This time there was no bluff. Faith realized the primitive savagery of +the hands that were laid on her. With the knowledge she fought wildly, +like a cornered animal. For a moment the other man was forgotten. Anger +and fear lent her strength. She caught at the handkerchief which hid her +assailant's face, and as he loosed one hand to catch her wrist, she +broke away, tearing the cloth with her. She reeled back, gasping, +disheveled, her dress torn at the throat, her hair bursting from +confining pins falling on her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Blake!" she cried hoarsely. "Blake French!"</p> + +<p>Stripped of his disguise, Blake French faced her, lowering, +ferocious—but suddenly afraid.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't going to hurt you," he said.</p> + +<p>Her hands went to her throat.</p> + +<p>"To hurt me? You liar! You utter brute! Is that what you will tell my +husband?"</p> + +<p>Blake's face contorted. He took a step forward.</p> + +<p>"You'll tell him, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I will!" Faith cried.</p> + +<p>Blake French knew that her recognition was disastrous. The whole plan, +including the blackmail of Braden, had depended upon recovering the +deeds without recognition. But now the matter of the deeds faded into +nothingness. His innate brutality had swept him away, carried him too +far. Apart from the law he knew the penalty that Angus Mackay would +exact from the man who laid hands on his wife. But Angus was lying +roped, helpless, a mile away. He was afraid, desperate. There must be +silence; at all costs, silence.</p> + +<p>He advanced. Faith sprang back, putting the table between them. But +Garland suddenly interposed. Like Blake, he saw the collapse of their +plans, but he accepted the failure.</p> + +<p>"No more of that!" he said. "Let her alone!"</p> + +<p>Blake turned on him in fury.</p> + +<p>"You damned fool!" he snarled. "We've got to fix her, and Mackay, too, +now!"</p> + +<p>"You're crazy!" Garland cried. "Do you want to hang?"</p> + +<p>"And do you want Mackay to kill you?" Blake retorted. He sprang forward, +caught the table and thrust it aside. But Garland caught his arm.</p> + +<p>"Let her alone, I tell you!" he repeated. "Come on; it's all off. Let's +get out of here!"</p> + +<p>Blake with a swift jerk ripped the concealing handkerchief from +Garland's face. "Let her take a look at you, too!" he cried and flinging +him aside drew his gun and turned on Faith.</p> + +<p>Faith, facing him helpless, found herself looking into the eyes of +Murder. It was useless to run. She stood and waited, white to the lips, +but looking him in the face. The gun rose. Garland, recovering, sprang +at Blake. But at that instant the door went wide with the crash of a +shattered catch, and into the room bounded Angus Mackay.</p> + +<p>He was hatless, wet, plastered with mud. His eyes blazed in his swarthy +face. At a glance they took in the disorder, the overturned table; Faith +standing at bay, Blake French with drawn gun, Garland suddenly arrested +in his spring. Then in grim, deadly silence he launched himself at +Blake.</p> + +<p>Faith saw the gun shift and swing. Its report in the confines of the +room was shattering. Garland struck Blake's arm as the weapon blazed a +second time; but Angus staggered and pitched forward at Blake's feet.</p> + +<p>Forgetful of all else Faith sprang forward and knelt beside him, lifting +his head. Blood oozed horribly from his dark hair. She turned her face, +white, anguished, to his slayer. Above her, Garland in panic cursed +Blake.</p> + +<p>"Now you've done it!" he said between oaths. "You've killed him."</p> + +<p>"She—she'll tell!" Blake chattered with quivering lips. "We've got +to—" He raised his gun with twitching hand. Garland caught it. He +thrust his own weapon in Blake's face.</p> + +<p>"If you try that I'll blow your head off!" he declared. With a quick +wrench he twisted the weapon from Blake, and menacing him with his gun +shoved him toward the door. "We've got to make a get-away. Get the +horses, quick!" At the door he hesitated. Returning he knelt beside +Faith.</p> + +<p>"Let me see a minute," he said. Her senses were too dulled to shrink +from him. Suddenly he drew a quick breath, almost a gasp of relief. "He +isn't dead."</p> + +<p>"Not dead?" Faith cried.</p> + +<p>"Not by a long ways. Just creased along the scalp. I guess I hit the gun +just in time, and I'm mighty near as glad as you are. He'll be all +right. I just want to say, before I pull out, that I never meant to do +more than scare you. Maybe you think I'm lying, and I don't blame you. +But I'm not."</p> + +<p>"I believe you," Faith said. In her sudden relief lesser things did not +matter. "I don't know what to do. Stay and help me, please."</p> + +<p>"I guess you don't understand," he returned, shaking his head. "This +would mean about twenty years apiece for me and Blake if we're caught. +And then"—he nodded at Angus—"when he comes around there won't be room +enough in this country for him and us."</p> + +<p>"But I'll tell him you helped me—how you struck Blake's arm—and +afterward!"</p> + +<p>"You're one white girl," Garland said with emphasis, "but I'm in too +deep. You can tell him if you like, and you can tell him I'm pulling +out. I never meant to do more than bluff you. Good-by."</p> + +<p>He was gone. Faith got water, towels, and bathed Angus' head. Touching +the wound with tender fingers she found that as Garland had said it was +apparently in the scalp merely. Presently Angus sighed, stirred, +muttered and opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" he said, and as recollection came to him he sat up suddenly, +staring around. "Where are they?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"They are gone, dear. It's all right. Don't try to get up."</p> + +<p>But he shook his head impatiently and rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"What happened? Blake French and Garland! What were they doing? What's +the matter with your hair? Your dress is torn." A tremendous expletive +burst from him. "What are those marks on your throat?"</p> + +<p>Her hand fluttered upward involuntarily. "Nothing. Never mind now. +Please——"</p> + +<p>"They laid hands on you!" he cried. "On <i>you</i>! And I wasn't here! Tell +me. No, no, I'm all right. Tell me!"</p> + +<p>She told him, seeing his face set and grow rigid. He groaned.</p> + +<p>"They stretched a rope between two trees, and I rode into it. The fall +almost knocked me out, and they finished the job. They roped me up. It +took me a long time to get loose." He held out his wrists, stripped of +skin to the raw flesh. "I was afraid of some devil's work, but——" He +broke off, shaking his head, and put his hand to his left side. When he +removed it his finger tips were stained.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are hurt—twice!" Faith cried.</p> + +<p>"I don't think this is much." He stripped himself to the waist. The +lamplight revealed a red furrow lying along his ribs, but though it bled +freely the skin was little more than broken. To Faith's pleading to lie +down he shook his head. On his instructions she brought an old sheet +which he ripped into a long bandage. "That was Blake's first shot," he +said as he replaced his garments. "He'll have to do better shooting than +that—next time."</p> + +<p>"Next time?" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>He did not reply, but going into the hall came back with a rifle in one +hand and his gun belt in the other.</p> + +<p>"Old girl, please rustle me some grub—cold meat and bread—and put it +in an old sugar sack."</p> + +<p>"But Angus, what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"To do? I am going after Blake French and Garland, of course."</p> + +<p>"But you are hurt. You are not fit—"</p> + +<p>"I am not hurt at all—to speak of. I have a long account to settle with +Blake French and Garland—yes, and with the whole bunch of those +Frenches and Braden as well—and now I am going to clean it up."</p> + +<p>"But if I forgive—"</p> + +<p>"Forgive!" he interrupted bitterly. "It doesn't matter to me what you +forgive. You are a woman. But I am a man and you are my wife, and I can +see the marks of Blake French's fingers on your flesh. As surely as God +lives I will kill him, or he will kill me. About Garland I don't +know—yet."</p> + +<p>His will was set, hardened; his mood black, deadly. Immediately he set +about his simple preparations. He knew that Blake and Garland would not +wait his coming. In all probability they would break for the hills, +where he must be prepared to follow them. He had found Chief, who had +come home of his own accord, waiting by the gate. A pack pony would +hamper his movements. He shoved his food in a sack, rolled a single +blanket in a tarp, got out a heavy sweater and changed his boots for +shoe-packs. Then he held out his arms to Faith. She clung to him.</p> + +<p>"Don't go!" she pleaded. "If anything should happen—now—"</p> + +<p>"I must go," he said. "If I didn't I should be less than a man. Nothing +will happen—to me. To-morrow—or it's to-day now, I guess—go to the +ranch and stay there till I get back."</p> + +<p>He kissed her gently and put her from him. She followed him to the door +and saw him mount. He waved his hand and vanished in the blackness of +the night.</p> + +<p>Faith returned to the living-room and sank into a chair. She was shaken, +bone-tired, sick at heart. A lifetime seemed to have passed since she +and Angus had sat there the night before, indulging in make-believe +playing at tragedy. Now tragedy had invaded their lives. It was like an +evil dream.</p> + +<p>How long she sat there she never knew. Nor did she know how she became +aware that she was not alone. She turned her head to see a figure +standing behind her. Her shaken nerves forced a cry from her lips.</p> + +<p>It was the old Indian, Paul Sam. There was a rifle under his arm, and +around his middle was a belt from which in a beaded scabbard hung a +long, broad-bladed knife. He was hatless, and his long, gray hair hung +in two braids in front of his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said. "You not be scared. Where him Angus?"</p> + +<p>"He isn't here."</p> + +<p>The old Indian's eyes roved around the room, resting on the signs of +disorder. "Iktah mamook?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"What you mamook? What you do?" He threw up his head, his nostrils +twitching like a dog's. "Smell um smoke," he said. "Somebody shoot. You +see um Blake French?"</p> + +<p>"He was here, but he has gone," Faith told him.</p> + +<p>The old Indian's dark eyes peered at her, noting her agitation. "Me ol' +man," he said. "Angus, him my tillikum. You him klootchman, him wife, +all same my tillikum. Goo'-by."</p> + +<p>Faith, left alone, knew she could not sleep. She dreaded the darkness, +the lying waiting for slumber which would not come. She decided to stay +before the fire till daylight. Then she would go to the Mackay ranch.</p> + +<p>The wind had ceased, and in the comparative stillness she heard a low, +distant drumming which she recognized as the sound of horses' hoofs. +They approached, halted, and she started up in apprehension. What would +happen next? Was everybody abroad that night? Footsteps tramped on the +veranda; somebody knocked.</p> + +<p>"Who is there?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Me—Turkey."</p> + +<p>She opened the door. There stood Turkey. Shadowy in the background was +Rennie with the horses. She saw that Turkey was armed.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" he asked. "You look sick. Where's Angus?"</p> + +<p>She told him, finding relief in the confidence. Turkey might bring Angus +back, or see that no harm befell him. As he listened a hard light came +into Turkey's eyes.</p> + +<p>"If Angus don't get Blake and Nick Garland, I will," he declared. "But I +didn't know they were here. I thought they were with the bunch that did +up Braden."</p> + +<p>"Did up Braden?"</p> + +<p>Turkey nodded. "The French boys—I thought sure Blake was in it, but I +guess he couldn't have been—blew open Braden's safe and got away with +the whole works. Braden was shot. Dave and I are part of a posse raised +to round them up, and I wanted Angus. Braden, before he died, said that +Gavin French is the man that shot father."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII</h2> + +<h3>OUTLAWS!</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Braden, some twenty-four hours after his interview with Judge Riley, +made the shocking discovery that in all probability he had laid down a +pat hand before a bluff. But though the discovery brought him to the +verge of an apoplectic fit, it came too late. He had signed a statement +covering the facts. Under the circumstances it did not matter who had +the deeds. If Garland, then his scheme of blackmail would fall down. Mr. +Braden found ample to occupy him in the crisis which the loss of the +coal property made in his affairs.</p> + +<p>The fact was that he was very hard up. The supposed ownership of a +promising coal mine had bolstered up his shaky credit. But as soon as it +was known that this was no longer his, one or two creditors would come +down on him and start an avalanche. And then, though Riley had promised +not to prosecute, it was inevitable that some suspicion of crookedness +would attach to him. Under the circumstances he was forced to the +conclusion that he had played out his string. He had been wise to secure +cash. He could raise a few thousand more, and as soon as he did so he +would pull out. At once he began to convert his few remaining assets, +and as he turned them into cash he put it in his office safe, in a +private compartment. The total formed a nice nest egg for the future. +His creditors in the course of time might get judgment and be hanged to +them, but the cash would be where it could not be tied up by +injunctions.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the strain told on his nerves. For some time he had slept +badly, and now he slept scarcely at all. Whisky, which formerly had had +a soporific effect, now failed, though he doubled the quantity.</p> + +<p>And so, as Angus rode home through the darkness, Mr. Braden lay awake. +His mind, after the habit of the insomniac, searched for, dug up and +turned over the most unpleasant things within his recollection, driving +sleep farther and farther away. It dwelt upon mistakes, failures, +humiliations of years before. The wind roared and rain splashed upon the +windows; and Mr. Braden, cursed by a thousand plaguing little devils of +memory, cursed the night and the darkness and longed for day.</p> + +<p>At last he dozed, but was awakened by a muffled, jarring reverberation +which shook his bed slightly. It was much like localized thunder. He lay +listening, and his ear caught a sound below.</p> + +<p>Somebody was in his office. In an instant he was out of bed. He +reflected that the boss of a local logging camp who had a payroll to +meet the next day, had deposited a considerable amount of cash in his +safe. No doubt that was what the robbers were after. But they would not +overlook his own cash, too. He could not obtain help until too late. He +must stop them single-handed, if at all.</p> + +<p>His knees shaking slightly, Mr. Braden padded softly across the room to +a wardrobe from which he took an old hammer ten-gauge shotgun, found a +box of antique shells, and filled the chambers. Then he stole cautiously +down stairs.</p> + +<p>The door of his office was closed. He turned the knob and gently opened +the door a crack. In the darkness the rays of a flashlight flickered on +his open safe. Figures were vaguely outlined. He could not tell how +many there were. Obviously, the thing to do was to cover them with the +shotgun, but light was necessary, for otherwise they might attack him in +the dark. His office was wired, and just beside the door was a switch. +He put the gun to his shoulder, holding it with one hand while he felt +for the switch. He found it, turned it, and the office sprang into +light.</p> + +<p>Three men were beside the safe. One held a flash light, another the +mouth of a gunny sack to which the third was transferring the safe's +contents.</p> + +<p>"Hands up!" Mr. Braden commanded in a voice which shook badly.</p> + +<p>The three men sprang erect. Mr. Braden recognized Gavin, Gerald and +Larry French. They had made no attempt to conceal their faces. They +blinked, frowning in the sudden light.</p> + +<p>"You infernal scoundrels!" cried Mr. Braden. "Put up your hands! Put +them up I tell you. If you make a move I'll shoot."</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden's mistake was in reiteration. Etiquette and common sense +alike demand that instant obedience to a gun be enforced by the gun +itself. In this case the muzzle of the gun wavered and wobbled badly.</p> + +<p>"Put that gas-pipe down!" Gavin said contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"Put up your hands!" Mr. Braden repeated. "I'll shoot, I tell you. I +will! I—"</p> + +<p>Quite by accident, in response to unintentional pressure of an unsteady +finger, the ten-gauge roared and the shot charge, almost solid at that +short range, passing between Gavin and Gerald struck and spattered +against the steel wall of the safe. Instantly, Gerald jerked a +six-shooter from its holster and fired and fired twice.</p> + +<p>Mr. Braden's face assumed an expression of dumb wonder. The shotgun +sagged, exploded again, and the charge ripped the floor. He sank +downward, pitched forward, and lay still.</p> + +<p>"Hell's fire!" cried Gavin. "What did you do that for?"</p> + +<p>"What for?" Gerald returned. "Because I don't want to be shot, myself."</p> + +<p>"He didn't mean to shoot. He wouldn't have shot again."</p> + +<p>"Then he was damned careless," Gerald replied. "One barrel of a shotgun +is plenty for me. It was coming to him."</p> + +<p>But in a rolling explosion of oaths Gavin cursed his brother for a fool. +He had spilt the beans. There would be a devil of a row. They would have +to make a get-away.</p> + +<p>"What for—if he can't talk?" Gerald asked.</p> + +<p>But at that moment Larry uttered an exclamation. He pointed to a window. +Against the pane below the drawn blind was a face white in the reflected +light. Almost instantly it vanished. Outside they heard running feet.</p> + +<p>"How about a get-away now?" Gavin demanded. "He's gone to get help. I +know him. He's a clerk in Park's law office."</p> + +<p>"I guess that settles it," Gerald concurred coolly. Swiftly he scooped +the remaining currency into the sack. "Well," he added, "we've got +something to make a get-away on."</p> + +<p>"Come on, come on," young Larry urged.</p> + +<p>"Keep cool," said Gerald.</p> + +<p>"If you'd kept cool," the younger man retorted, "we could have bluffed +Braden."</p> + +<p>But none of them voiced a regret for Braden himself. His death, if he +was dead, was to be deplored merely as it might affect them. Gavin +turned the huddled figure over and swore afresh.</p> + +<p>"You're too smooth with a gun, Jerry. He isn't dead yet, but I guess +he's got his. Now we have to beat it."</p> + +<p>They emerged on the streets and ran for their horses, tethered on the +outskirts of town, mounted and pounded off on the trail toward the +ranch. They rode fast, but without forcing their horses, for later they +would need all that was in the animals.</p> + +<p>The ranch was dark as they rode up to it. They loosened cinches, removed +bridles and gave the horses feed. Entering the house they began to throw +an outfit together.</p> + +<p>Gavin, mounting the stairs, knocked at his sister's door.</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you, Kit."</p> + +<p>"In the morning."</p> + +<p>"No, now."</p> + +<p>"Come in, then."</p> + +<p>She sat up in bed as he struck a match and lit the lamp. As he turned to +her the big man's cold, blue eyes softened a shade in expression. He sat +on the side of the bed and put his arm around her.</p> + +<p>"Kittens, old girl, I've only got minutes. Jerry, Larry and I have got +to pull out." He told her why, bluntly, feeling her body tense and +stiffen. "So that was how it was," he concluded. "And now here's what +we're going to do: We're going to break north through the hills and work +up into the Cache River Valley. Then we'll go east or west, whichever +looks best. We may split up, or not. Here's some money—no, no, this is +all right. Braden never saw this. It's mine. Don't give any of it to +Blake. And here's what you do: This place is sunk with a mortgage, so +sell your own horses and quit it. Let the tail go with the hide. Get out +of here, and wherever you go subscribe for the <i>Pacific Spokesman</i>. Read +the 'lost' column every day, and when you see an ad. for a lost horse +with our brand, answer it. I'll be doing that advertising. I guess +that's all. I'm sorry, Kit, but it's the best I can do for you now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's the best," she admitted. "Don't worry about me. I was going +to leave here anyway. I'm going to do something, I don't know just what. +But ever since father died I've known I couldn't go on as we've been +going. You've made an awful mess of things—you boys. I've seen you +going down hill—from bad to worse—losing your self-respect and that of +others, falling lower and lower, till it has come to—this.</p> + +<p>"And I've gone downhill myself. I've lived on money, knowing how it was +obtained, and saying nothing. I'm not preaching. I'm not finding fault. +But I'm through. And I'm through with you boys unless you change. Of the +whole lot, you're the only one I care anything about. I don't know if +you care anything about me, but if you do you're the only one who does. +You've always been fair and decent to me, anyway, I—I'd loved you—if +you'd let me."</p> + +<p>"Damn it, Kit," her brother replied, "why didn't you say something like +that before? I've been fond of you ever since you were a baby, but you +never let me see you thought anything more of me than the other +boys—and that was mighty little. Well—what you say is true. I'm a +rotten bad lot, but all the same I'm just about as sick of the show as +you are. And I'll tell you this much: If I can get clear now I'll make a +fresh start—I've been thinking of the Argentine—and if you'll go with +me, I'd like it."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," she promised. "But suppose you don't get clear?"</p> + +<p>The big man shrugged his shoulders. "Then I lose out. I'm not going to +rot in the pen. You can say a little prayer if you feel like it."</p> + +<p>She stared at him, somber-eyed. "I suppose that's the best way, after +all."</p> + +<p>"The only way. And now I must rustle an outfit."</p> + +<p>"I'll be down in a minute," she said.</p> + +<p>She came down to the apparent confusion of their preparations. Each had +drawn on his personal outfit. Gerald and Larry nodded to her. She said +little, made no reproaches, helping them silently, swiftly. Suddenly +Larry paused, throwing up his head, lifting his hand. Upon the sudden +silence burst the sound of swift hoofs. The brothers looked at each +other.</p> + +<p>"Go upstairs, Kit," said Gavin, "and stay there."</p> + +<p>But in a moment it was evident that there was but one horse. The door +was tried, shaken. A furious oath came from outside.</p> + +<p>"It's just Blake," said Larry, and unfastened the door.</p> + +<p>Blake stared at his brothers, at their weapons, at the outfit piled in +the room.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You may as well know," said Gerald and told him. "And you keep your +mouth shut," he concluded.</p> + +<p>Blake laughed with a certain relief. "I've got to make a get-away +myself. I'm going with you. I shot up Angus Mackay."</p> + +<p>"You shot Angus!" Kathleen cried. Her face went white, and she clutched +the back of a chair. "Do you mean that he is dead?"</p> + +<p>"No," Blake replied. He had learned that much from Garland, who had +decided that it would be safer for him to part company and had done so. +"He'll get over it, I guess."</p> + +<p>"What started it?" Larry asked.</p> + +<p>"He came for me and I downed him," Blake replied sullenly. "Never mind +what started it."</p> + +<p>"You're lying!" Kathleen told him fiercely. "I know you, Blake. You'd +never have faced him if he had had a gun. You shot him in the back, or +unarmed."</p> + +<p>But Gavin interposed.</p> + +<p>"If you're coming with us, get a move on. Rustle your own outfit."</p> + +<p>They gave Blake scant time. Immediately Larry began to pack two ponies. +If necessary these could be abandoned, but meanwhile they would save the +saddle horses. In a few minutes they were packed. All but Gavin mounted. +In the hall he took Kathleen in his great arms and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Kit. No telling how this will come out. Remember what I told +you."</p> + +<p>"I'll remember," she said. "Good-by, Gan—and good luck."</p> + +<p>He released her and swung into the saddle. In a moment they had vanished +in the darkness, heading north for the pass which led into the +wilderness of the hills—outlaws.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII</h2> + +<h3>TAKING THE TRAIL</h3> + + +<p>Kathleen returned to her room and dressed herself fully. It was only a +matter of time until pursuit would be organized, would arrive, and she +would be questioned. She would tell nothing. Her brothers should have +their fighting chance.</p> + +<p>Already her mind, recovering from the shock of the unexpected, was busy +with the future. A sister of outlaws! Well, she would go away, adopt +some other name, and wait till she heard from Gavin.</p> + +<p>With a swift pang of pain she thought of Angus Mackay. How badly was he +hurt? With daylight she would see, she would offer to do what she could. +Of course Faith and Jean would shrink from Blake's sister. She could not +help that. She would take her medicine. There would be much bitter +medicine to take.</p> + +<p>She went downstairs and began to put away things that her brothers had +at first selected and then discarded. It would not be long, now, till +something happened. She picked up a coat of Larry's, turned with it in +her hand, and saw Angus Mackay.</p> + +<p>She had heard no sound. Yet he stood in the doorway. His head was +bandaged. A six-shooter in his hand advertised his purpose.</p> + +<p>"Angus!" she cried. He raised his hand in a warning gesture.</p> + +<p>"Don't make a noise! I didn't expect to see you. I'm sorry. I'll go +away."</p> + +<p>"You are looking for Blake!"</p> + +<p>He nodded silently.</p> + +<p>"He isn't here, Angus. He has gone. I want to know what happened."</p> + +<p>"It will not be pleasant for you to hear."</p> + +<p>"I must know."</p> + +<p>As he told her, her face grew white with anger.</p> + +<p>"I knew he was a brute—a cur!" she said. "But this is too much."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is too much," he agreed gravely. "I am sorry, because he is +your brother, but it has come to a finish between Blake and me."</p> + +<p>"I understand," she said with equal gravity. "I do not feel that he is +my brother. But they have all gone together, and I may as well tell you +why."</p> + +<p>He listened, frowning. He did not care about Braden, to whom he +attributed the attempt of Blake and Garland to recover Faith's deeds. +But if Blake had gone with the other boys it meant that they would all +stand together. It was feud, then, at last, unavoidable. But his purpose +was unchanged.</p> + +<p>"They don't know," Kathleen said, "that Blake laid hands on Faith. If +they had known, they would not help him. They are bad enough but at +least they are men."</p> + +<p>He nodded silently. There was no doubt of that. Kathleen raised her +head, listening. He became aware of a distant sound.</p> + +<p>"That is—the law," she said. "Perhaps you would rather not be seen +here—with me."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to be here. I will see them. You shouldn't be alone. If you +will go to Faith in the morning, and say that I asked you to stay with +her—"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she cried. "It is kind of you. You are a good man, Angus. But +I can't do that."</p> + +<p>"You would be welcome."</p> + +<p>"Still I cannot do it."</p> + +<p>But the hoof-beats swelled in volume and clattered to a halt in front of +the house. Angus went to the front door and opened it. He found himself +confronted by a long, lean, grizzled gentleman who held a gun of +orthodox proportions in readiness for action. But as he recognized Angus +he lowered it with a grunt of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Didn't expect to see <i>you</i>! Any of the French boys in the house?"</p> + +<p>"They've pulled out. Their sister is alone."</p> + +<p>The grizzled gentleman grunted again. His name was Bush, and he was the +sheriff's deputy. As the sheriff was old and carried much weight for +age, the rough jobs fell to Jake Bush, who did them well. He possessed +much experience, a craw full of sand, and a thorough understanding of a +gun. Behind him, with horses, Angus saw men he knew—Bustede, Drury, +Fanning, McClintock—all men of the hills and of their hands.</p> + +<p>"Yeh, I figgered them boys would pull out ahead of me," Bush admitted +placidly. "And of course they'll p'int out north for the hills, where +they ain't no wires. They know the country darn well, too. So I called +in at your ranch and rousted out Dave. He's a wise old ram in them +hills. Your brother wanted to come, and he bein' a useful kid I swore +him in, too. I wanted you, but when I found out where you was I sent +Dave and the kid after you, and come right along here. But I had a hunch +it'd be too late. Still, it's a s'prise to see you."</p> + +<p>"And you want to know why I'm here?"</p> + +<p>"Well—yes. It might have some bearin' on the case."</p> + +<p>Angus told him why, and Bush's eyebrows drew together.</p> + +<p>"Now I'm free to say that for a low-down skunk this here Blake French +is some pumpkins. I sure thought he was with his brothers, but this +gives him a alibi, I s'pose. And I s'pose, also, you're out to git him. +Is that right?"</p> + +<p>"That's right."</p> + +<p>"I don't say he don't need killin'," said the deputy. "But the darn +law—nowadays—sorter discourages these here private executions. And I'm +an officer of the law."</p> + +<p>"You and the law, Jake," Angus said deliberately, "can both go to hell!"</p> + +<p>"Now don't be so darn hair-trigger!" the deputy protested. "Here's the +proposition: You've give me information which justifies me in arrestin' +him for murderous assault on your wife, and shootin' you with intent to +kill. His brothers is wanted for robbery and murder, and they're all +stringin' their chips together. I figger they'll resist arrest, and I +don't believe in allowin' my officers to be shot up. So if you was sworn +in, and was to kill Blake resistin' arrest, it would be all reg'lar. +Savvy?"</p> + +<p>"But suppose he doesn't resist arrest?"</p> + +<p>"Never cross a bridge till you come to it," said Bush wisely. "You got +to come along with us to find him, anyhow. So I'll swear you in and +we'll hope for the best."</p> + +<p>Bush's questioning of Kathleen was perfunctory. He grinned at her +refusal to give information. "I wouldn't think much of you if you did," +he admitted, and went on a tour of investigation, from which he drew +some very accurate deductions.</p> + +<p>Turkey and Rennie arrived, and for the first time Angus heard of +Braden's dying declaration that Gavin French was responsible for the +killing of Adam Mackay. But beyond the bare statement there were no +details. Braden's end had come before he had been able to amplify it.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose it's so?" Turkey queried. "Or was he just trying to hang +something on Gavin?"</p> + +<p>Angus did not know. There were times, in the years, when he had been +puzzled by Gavin's peculiar regard for him. There had always been +something in the big man's eyes which he could not read, something +veiled, inscrutable. He alone of the brothers had been reluctant to take +up their father's quarrel with Angus. This might be the reason.</p> + +<p>"If he killed father," said Turkey grimly, "he's got it coming to him. +You take Blake, and I'll take him."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to go on but what Braden said," Angus pointed out. But +he thought of his father's dying words. His father had not wished to lay +a feud upon him. It fitted.</p> + +<p>At dawn, acting on Bush's theory, they headed north for the pass. When +they struck it there were fresh footprints, many of them, heading into +the hills.</p> + +<p>"That's them," said Bush. "Hey, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," said Rennie. "It ain't Injuns. These horses is shod."</p> + +<p>A mountain pass is not a road. It merely represents the only practicable +way of winning through the jumbled world of hills. Railway construction +in the mountains follows the pass, but persons who admire scenery from +vestibuled coaches know nothing of the old pass of the pack-trail, the +binding brush, the fallen timber, the slides, the swift creeks, the +gulches, the precipices to which the trail must cling.</p> + +<p>The trail itself—the original trail—is invariably the line of least +resistance. It proceeds on the theory that it is easier to go around +than through or over. If traveling on the other side of a creek is +easier it crosses. When conditions are reversed, it comes back. It +wanders with apparent aimlessness, but eventually gets there, at the +cost of time, but without much work. To natural obstacles the wild +animals and the equally wild men who first trod the passes opposed +patience and time, of which they had great store. Later the pioneer +brought the ax. He slashed out the brush, so that he and his might get +by without trouble; but he followed the windings of the trail.</p> + +<p>The pass upon which the pursuit entered was a good trail. It led +gradually and almost imperceptibly upward, following the general course +of a creek. The hills sloped back on either hand. Into them led wide +draws, timbered, little valleys in themselves. But this pass was merely +a vestibule. It reached the summit of the first range of hills, and +there was a way down the other side. The trail had been cut out. But +beyond were hundreds of square miles of mountains in which what few +trails there were had never known an ax.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon they reached the summit of the first divide. It was +comparatively low, and timbered. There was a lake, scarcely more than a +pond. There the fugitives had halted.</p> + +<p>Rennie and Bush nosed among the signs like old hounds, not looking for +anything in particular, but because they could not help it.</p> + +<p>"I sh'd say they got two pack ponies," Bush decided. "There's the four +French boys, and maybe Garland."</p> + +<p>"Garland ain't with 'em," Rennie returned with conviction. "He's too +darn wise. He knows Angus would go after Blake, or if he didn't me or +Turkey would. So he'd quit Blake right away and pull out by himself. +I'd bet money on it."</p> + +<p>"Not with me," Bush grinned. "I guess you're right."</p> + +<p>They were standing by the little lake, and Rennie pointed to a moccasin +track that lay in the soft ground. The foot that made it was shapely, +rather small, and straight along the inner line. The toes were spread +widely, naturally.</p> + +<p>"That's funny," said Rennie.</p> + +<p>"Why?" Bush asked. "It's some Injun. He jumped from there onto that log. +I s'pose he wanted water without wettin' his feet."</p> + +<p>"What's an Injun doin' here?"</p> + +<p>"What's an Injun doin' any place?" Bush countered with the scorn of the +old-timer. "S'pose you loosen up some. You know as much about Injuns as +I do."</p> + +<p>"Well, we ain't met this Injun," said Rennie, "so he's travelin' the +same way we are. Maybe he's just one of a bunch that's in here huntin'. +But I was tellin' you about how old Paul Sam come to Angus' wife's place +last night. He was lookin' for Blake. 'Course you heard what was said +about Blake and his granddaughter. I just wondered."</p> + +<p>Bush removed his hat and scratched his head.</p> + +<p>"By gosh, I wonder!" he observed. "He's mighty old, but it might be. He +ain't no fish-eatin' flat-face Siwash. He's a horse Injun—one of the +old stock. But he is darn old."</p> + +<p>"He thought a heap of the girl," said Rennie. "He sent her to school. He +was goin' to make her all same white girl."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh!" Bush growled. "A lot of darn fools think they can do tricks +like that. But she's a job for the Almighty. Well, if this is the old +buck, he couldn't go on a better last war-trail, and I wish him a heap +of luck. Now let's get goin'."</p> + +<p>Night found them at the foot of the range they had crossed. They were +now in the valley of the Klimminchuck, a fast stream of the proportions +of a river, fed by tributary creeks. Across it rose mountains, range on +range, nameless, cut by valleys, pockets, basins and creeks. Their area +resembled a tumbled sea. It was a mountain wilderness, little known, +unmapped, much as it came from the hands of the Creator.</p> + +<p>And yet in this wilderness there were trails. Up tributary creeks +hunters had made them for short distances, but they soon petered out. +Beyond, into the heart of the hills, were other faintly marked routes, +scarcely trails but ways of traverse, by which at various and widely +separated times man had penetrated into these solitudes and even crossed +them entirely.</p> + +<p>All the men knew something of this mountain area, but Rennie's knowledge +was the most extensive. His was the restlessness, the desire to see +something of what lay beyond, of the pioneer. He had made long +incursions, alone. Bush leaned on this knowledge. Around the fire that +night, pipes alight, they held council.</p> + +<p>"They've turned up river," said Bush. "If they keep on for the head +waters they get into mighty bad country, hey, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Mighty bad," Rennie agreed. "They couldn't get no place."</p> + +<p>"And they ain't outfitted to winter. Do they know she's bad up there?"</p> + +<p>"Sure they know. Anyhow, Gavin does. My tumtum is they'll ford above +here and try for a clean get-away, maybe up Copper Creek, right across +the mountains."</p> + +<p>"Can they make it?"</p> + +<p>"They might. Depends on what they know of the country, and what luck +they have."</p> + +<p>"With horses?"</p> + +<p>"Well, they might."</p> + +<p>"How far have you ever gone yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I been up to where the Copper heads and over the divide and on a +piece."</p> + +<p>"Good travelin'?"</p> + +<p>"No, darn mean."</p> + +<p>"Trail?"</p> + +<p>"Only a liar would call it a trail. Still, you can get along if you're +careful."</p> + +<p>"Could they have gone farther?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear of anybody gettin' plum' through, say to Cache River, +that way?"</p> + +<p>"I've heard of it—yes. Old Pete Jodoin claimed he made her. And one +time I run onto an old Stoney buck and he told me how, long ago, his +people used to come down huntin' onto this here Klimmin, but they don't +do it no more."</p> + +<p>"Pete Jodoin was an old liar," said Bush, "and so's any Stoney, on +gen'ral principles. But it's funny the places you can go if you know +how. Think these French boys would know enough to make a trip like +that?"</p> + +<p>"Gavin knows a lot about these hills," Rennie replied. "He's hunted in +'em a lot by himself. He can pack near as much as a pony, and it's darn +hard to say where he went and didn't go."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Bush, "I only hope we don't lose their trail."</p> + +<p>So far the trail had been plain, the hoof marks on it visible. But on +bad ground this would not be the case. There would be no trail, in the +sense of a path, and the trail in the sense of hoof-marks might +disappear entirely. Therefore it was important to ascertain if they +could the line of flight, so that if signs temporarily ceased there +might be a possibility of finding them again further on.</p> + +<p>But in the morning the trail of the fugitives led straight to the ford, +crossed it and held up the farther side. They came to the mouth of +Copper Creek, a delta with much gravel wash, but the trail of the +fugitives, in place of turning the Copper, led straight on up the valley +trail. A couple of miles on, just after crossing a patch of rocky +ground, Turkey who was in the lead pulled up and dismounted.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, kid?" Bush asked.</p> + +<p>"Matter!" Turkey exclaimed. "Why there isn't a shod horse in this bunch +of tracks we're following."</p> + +<p>Investigation showed that Turkey was right. They had been riding on the +tracks of unshod horses, presumably of an Indian hunting party. And as +they had trampled on these with their own shod horses it was going to be +hard to ascertain just how far they had gone on this false trail. But +Rennie had his own idea of a short cut.</p> + +<p>"They made the side jump somewheres on these here rocks," he said. "They +figgered we'd go hellin' along on the tracks of them barefoots. Now this +bad ground is the end of that there shoulder you see, and she runs back +and dips down on the other side to the Copper."</p> + +<p>"Sounds reas'nable," Bush admitted, "Then we go back to the Copper."</p> + +<p>The two were standing together apart from the others.</p> + +<p>"Look over there," said Rennie, "and line up this rock with that lone +cottonwood. What do you see?"</p> + +<p>Bush looked along the line indicated. "By gosh," he ejaculated, "that +cottonwood's <i>blazed</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Blazed both sides," Rennie informed him. "I been there. And further on +there's another tree blazed. Fresh."</p> + +<p>"Lord—ee!" said Bush. "Them French boys wouldn't do that. You think +it's the old buck?"</p> + +<p>Rennie nodded. "He's wiser 'n we are; also closer to 'em. He's playin' a +lone hand, so he has to wait his chance at Blake. He figgers Angus will +be after Blake, and as he may run into bad luck himself he wants to make +sure somebody lands him. He don't know why the other boys are there, but +he knows there must be some good reason, because they're in a hurry and +tryin' to hide their trail. So on gen'ral principles he blazes that +cottonwood where he strikes their tracks where they've turned off, and +keeps goin'."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh!" Bush agreed. "I guess we better not tell them Mackay boys +about the Injun. They'd be for crowdin' things, and likely mess 'em up. +They don't want nobody to get ahead of 'em. I wish I hadn't told 'em +what old Braden said. But it seemed right they should know."</p> + +<p>"So it is right," said Rennie. "Adam Mackay hadn't no gun. She was +murder. Only thing, I don't savvy it bein' Gavin French. Givin' the +devil his due, he's all <i>man</i>. And Braden was such a darn liar. Well, +there's many a card lost in the shuffle turns up in the deal."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV</h2> + +<h3>THE RED AVENGER</h3> + + +<p>Many miles beyond the head waters of Copper Creek four men rode along +the crest of a sparsely timbered summit. Their horses were weary, +gaunted with scant, frost-burnt feed. The riders were unkempt, unshaven, +their eyes reddened by much staring into distances and the ceaseless +pour of the mountain winds. The wind was now blowing strongly. It was +very cold, and they bent against it, their hats pulled low, their +collars high. Along the summit on which they rode and even along its +flanks lay thin snow, the first of the coming winter. But above, on the +higher ranges, it lay thickly white on the peaks and in the great +gulches, promise of the twenty or thirty or forty feet of it which would +fall before Spring, as it had fallen on that high roof of the world for +ages.</p> + +<p>On the second day on the Copper the fugitives had discovered that they +had not shaken off pursuit. It clung to them doggedly, tenaciously. Once +through binoculars they had seen their pursuers across the width of a +mountain valley. Little figures, seven of them, had ridden across the +field of the lens focused on a barren patch of hillside. They could make +a very fair guess at the identity of some of the men. With the discovery +they had made extra speed.</p> + +<p>Then they had got off the trail, which was ancient, faint, overgrown. +Left to himself Gavin, who was the pilot, would likely have steered a +correct course, for he had much of that intuition which for lack of a +better term may be called sense of direction, and an eye for the +general configuration of country. But he was in a hurry and his brothers +obtruded advice. And so Gavin went astray. Half a day's travel converted +suspicion of this to certainty. The only thing to do was to angle +forward in the general direction in which the old trail might be +supposed to lie.</p> + +<p>It is one thing to travel following the line of least resistance; but it +is quite another to hold for any definite objective point. Immediately, +obstacles interposed. All of a sudden, as it seemed, things went wrong. +Their way was barred by swift creeks, rocks, tangled wind-falls piled +high. These had to be circumnavigated. One pack pony was drowned in a +sudden dip of what looked like a fordable stream. The other slipped, +sprained his shoulder and could not travel. They shot him, and took his +load between them. At last they regained what was presumably the old +trail. The one redeeming feature was that in their wanderings, they +might have shaken off pursuit. But the next morning, looking back, +behind and below them but on their line of travel, they saw smoke. The +pursuit had even gained.</p> + +<p>Now the old trail grew better, clearer, so that they did not have to +worry about that; but they did worry about the way their pursuers hung +on. Of what profit was it to traverse this sea of mountains and emerge +with these hunters at their heels? As they rode, bending against the +keen wind that swept the great ridge, this problem lay in the mind of +each.</p> + +<p>But Blake viewed it from an angle of his own. He had thrown in his lot +with his brothers in panic, relying on them, feeling the safety of +numbers. But the pursuit that dogged was primarily of them and not of +him. Then he had made a mistake in joining them. Garland was a wise bird +in striking off by himself. That was what he should have done. He should +have known it would be assumed that he had gone with his brothers. He +had been a fool.</p> + +<p>And there was another consideration. He knew very well that the boys did +not intend to be taken. If he stayed with them he would have to fight. +Angus or Turkey, or even Rennie would shoot him on sight, and in all +probability one or more of them was with the bunch behind. Obviously the +thing to do was to quit his brothers and let them draw the pursuit. But +the devil of it was he had no money. They, however, had what they had +taken from Braden. He did not know how much, but it must be a lot. They +ought to share up with him. He considered that he had a grievance +against them.</p> + +<p>Toward evening they came to the end of the ridge and began a long +descent into a high valley. They struck timber and shelter from the +wind, and water. There they camped. But though feed was short and +frost-burnt, they dared not let their horses range, keeping them on +ropes.</p> + +<p>Supper over they sat close to the fire, smoking, following their own +thoughts. Gerald regarded the blaze through half-closed eyes; Gavin, +motionless his chin in his hand stared straight ahead; but young Larry, +on one elbow, frowning, impatient, jerked cones and bits of stick at the +fire with vicious flips of the wrist. Finally he sat upright.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what the <i>hell</i>!" he said, in tones of nervous irritation.</p> + +<p>Gerald's half-veiled eyes shifted to him; Gavin turned his head.</p> + +<p>"Well?" the latter asked.</p> + +<p>"What's the use of this?" the young man demanded. "How long are we going +to be chased all over these hills? I wouldn't kick if we were making a +get-away—but we aren't. This bunch is right on our heels. What good +does it do us to keep going? Not a damned bit! Wherever we come out +they'll be right on top of us."</p> + +<p>"The kid's right," Gerald observed.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Gavin again.</p> + +<p>"Why not let it come to a show-down now?" Larry asked. "Let's make a +stand. There's only seven of them, near as we can tell." He laughed +recklessly. "Whoever loses out stays in these damned hills for keeps."</p> + +<p>"Larry's right," said Gerald again.</p> + +<p>"He may be," Gavin admitted. "Make a stand, hey?" He stretched his great +arms slowly. "Four of us, seven of them. Well, I'm game, if you are. +They're apt to have some pretty good men. Some of us are due to stay in +these hills, as Larry says."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Gerald agreed. "But the hills are better than the pen. We're all +in the same boat."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that," Blake put in.</p> + +<p>"Since you mention it," said Gerald, "maybe we're not. If young Turkey +or Rennie is with that bunch they're out to get you." Blake shifted +uneasily, and Gerald sneered. "I'll bet a hundred they <i>do</i> get you, +too."</p> + +<p>"You want the big end," said young Larry.</p> + +<p>"You talk about being in the same boat," said Blake. "Well, I didn't +shoot Braden, nor get any of his money. You held out on me. You thought +you could get it yourselves. You wouldn't let me in on it."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well, why the devil should I help you stand off that bunch, then? +They're after you, not me."</p> + +<p>"Has anybody asked you to?" Gerald retorted. "And nobody asked you to +come with us, if it comes to that."</p> + +<p>"You had the fear of God in your heart and you begged to come," Larry +told him. "You say you shot up Mackay, but you wouldn't tell why. And +now, when things are getting hot, you want to quit and sneak off by +yourself. I know what you're thinking. Quit and be damned, then! You +never were any good. You never had the sand of a white rabbit."</p> + +<p>Blake blustered, cursing his younger brother. The latter leaped to his +feet. But Gavin interposed.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Larry. Blake, do you want to quit us? If you do, say so. +There are no strings on you."</p> + +<p>"If I did want to, I couldn't," Blake growled. "You know blame' well I +haven't got any money."</p> + +<p>Gavin eyed him in silence for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I'll fix the money part," he said. Reaching into his warbag he drew +forth a package of bills. He split it in half without counting, tossing +one half to Blake as he would have tossed a bone to a dog. "There you +are! Anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't want—" Blake began, but Gavin cut him short.</p> + +<p>"You needn't lie. I've seen this in the back of your mind for days. +You'll go now, whether you want to or not! Our trails fork in the +morning, and you play your own hand. But if you try to save your hide by +helping that bunch back there, I'll kill you. And that's cold!"</p> + +<p>Blake could not meet the cold blue eyes that bored into his.</p> + +<p>"You held out on me in the first place," he said. "This is your show, +not mine."</p> + +<p>"You—" Larry began.</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" said Gavin. "Let him alone. Take what grub you want in the +morning, Blake, and go your own way. And now I'm going to sleep."</p> + +<p>He rolled his blanket around him and lay down. Gerald and Larry followed +his example. Blake, to show his indifference, set by the fire for a +time, smoking sullenly; but soon he too turned in.</p> + +<p>It was dark when he awoke, but Gavin was already cooking breakfast, +Larry and Gerald rolling blankets. He shared the meal, but nobody spoke +to him. Larry brought in three horses, but Blake had to go for his own. +Fresh snow, fallen in the night, lay on the ground, but it was merely a +skift which would go with the sun.</p> + +<p>The east was rose and gold when they mounted. High to the westward the +sun, as yet invisible, struck the eastern face of a great snow-wrapped +peak, playing on it dazzlingly. The cold of the high altitudes nipped; +the breath of the gaunt horses hung in steam.</p> + +<p>At the head of the little cavalcade Gavin led the way down a sloping +shoulder into the valley. Blake followed, uncertain what to do. When the +valley opened Gavin pulled up.</p> + +<p>"Here's where we break, Blake."</p> + +<p>"All right," he replied sullenly. "Go ahead. I'm not stopping you."</p> + +<p>"I said we broke here."</p> + +<p>"I've got to get out of these mountains, haven't I? This is the only +way."</p> + +<p>"You wanted to quit us," said Gavin, "and now you have to."</p> + +<p>"All right," Blake replied. "I'll quit you, if you want it that way."</p> + +<p>Without a word of farewell his brothers rode on. Blake watched them go. +Their wordless contempt had stung him, and he hated them. He hoped +sincerely that they would be caught.</p> + +<p>His own immediate plans were simple. He would ride a few miles off the +trail till Bush and his posse went by. Then he would make up his mind +just what to do. He might take the back trail when they had gone on. He +would see.</p> + +<p>He took care to leave the trail on rocky ground. The thin snow which +still lay was unfortunate, but did not greatly matter once he was off +the trail. In an hour or two it would be gone. He rode for a mile, which +for his purpose was as good as five or ten, and dismounting let his +horse feed. He found a place where the sun struck warmly, filled his +pipe and lay down, his back against a rock.</p> + +<p>He counted the money which Gavin had thrown him. It amounted to more +than two thousand dollars. That would help some. He was better off than +if he had stayed with his brothers. Lord, yes! He was safe as a church.</p> + +<p>His eyes half-closed, he enjoyed his pipe, thinking things over. He made +a mess of that Mackay business. When you came right down to it, he +should not have laid hands on Faith. But he would have had the deeds out +of her if Garland had not weakened. But for Garland there would have +been no necessity for this get-away. Garland had got him into the thing. +Damn Garland! And damn women! They were all fools. Take that klootch. +How the devil could she expect a white man to marry her? She wasn't bad +for a klootch, but as a wife—good night!</p> + +<p>The pipe had lost its flavor. Blake tapped it out, rose, and started +back with an involuntary cry. Just back of the rock against which he +had been leaning stood Paul Sam.</p> + +<p>The old Indian raised his rifle.</p> + +<p>"S'pose you move," he said, "you go mimaloos." Blake froze into +immobility. "You go mimaloos, anyway," the old man added; "but first me +talk to you."</p> + +<p>A great fear laid hold upon Blake. The old Indian's features were +impassive, but his eyes were bleak and hard. He lowered the rifle to the +level of his waist, but its muzzle still dominated. Blake's rifle leaned +against the rock, out of reach. His six-shooter was in his belt, but he +knew better than to try for it. He stood motionless, staring at the +seamed features of the Indian.</p> + +<p>"Me talk to you," Paul Sam repeated in soft, clucking gutterals. "Ole +man, me; young man, you. You white man; me Injun. Very ole man, me. All +the men that were young with me go mimaloos many years ago. My wife she +go mimaloos. My son and his wife they go mimaloos. Only one of my blood +is left, my son's daughter—Mary!"</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment.</p> + +<p>"There is no one else of my blood. Me raise hiyu kuitan, hiyu moos-moos, +all for her when me die. One time this country all Injun. Pretty soon no +more Injun. All white. Injun way no good now. All white man's way. So me +send her to school to learn the white man's way.</p> + +<p>"She come back to my house. When me look at her me think of many things, +of many people who go mimaloos many years ago. It is good for an ole man +to have the young of his blood in his house, for in them his youth +lives.</p> + +<p>"There comes a time when this girl who is the last of my blood, is sad. +No more laugh; no more sing. Me not know why. Me ole man. Mebbe-so me +blind ole fool. Me never think of—that! When she is dead—then me hear +of <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>The Indian paused. Blake spoke, moistening dry lips.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't anything to do with Mary."</p> + +<p>"You lie!" the old man returned. "You bring shame on her and on me. So +me kill you."</p> + +<p>There was no passion in his voice; but there was finality, judgment +inexorable. It was the logical conclusion, worked out, demonstrated +according to his rules.</p> + +<p>Blake's face blanched. In fancy, as he stared at it, he could see the +red stab of flame leap and feel the shock of lead. Was there no way of +escape? He glanced around. There was nothing save the mountain +wilderness, the serene heights of the peaks, the blue autumn sky, a +soaring golden eagle. His eyes came back to the rifle muzzle. His mouth +opened, but words would not come.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe-so you like pray?" Paul Sam suggested calmly. Blake found his +voice.</p> + +<p>"I have money," he said. "Look! lots of money. Take it. For God's sake, +don't kill me. I didn't mean—I didn't know—"</p> + +<p>For the first time a glint of bitter anger leaped into the old man's +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Money!" he said. "You think I take money for a dead woman of my blood +and for my shame. Now me kill you all same wolf!"</p> + +<p>The rifle rose, steadied, pointed at Blake's heart. The old finger +crooked on the trigger. The hammer fell with a click. For some +reason—worn firing pin, weak spring, or defective cartridge—the weapon +failed to explode.</p> + +<p>Paul Sam's hand jerked down with the lever to throw another shell into +place. But Blake in that instant of reprieve took his chance. With a +leap he hurled himself forward and caught the barrel, throwing it aside, +feeling the flame of the explosion heat the metal beneath his fingers. +The report smashed out in the stillness of the valley, racketing and +rolling against the hills.</p> + +<p>Blake wrenched the rifle from the old man's hands and threw it far. His +fear was gone, his face contorted with passion. He reached for his +revolver. As he did so Paul Sam drew a nine-inch knife from its beaded +scabbard and struck as a snake strikes.</p> + +<p>With a screaming oath Blake shoved the muzzle of the six-shooter against +him and pulled the trigger. The blunt report was muffled by the body. +But again the knife, now red to the hilt, rose and fell, and again the +gun barked like a kenneled dog. And then Blake reeled backward, his eyes +wide, the gun escaping from his hand, and fell on his back horribly +asprawl. With him fell Paul Sam. But the old Indian's fingers were +locked around the haft of the knife, and the haft stood out of Blake's +breast. And so they lay together as the rolling echoes died and the +stillness of the great hills came again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV</h2> + +<h3>THE GREAT SHOW-DOWN</h3> + + +<p>Down the slope from the wind-swept summit into the valley rode the posse +of Jake Bush. Their horses, too, were gaunted with scant feed and hard +work. Like the men who had preceded them these were unkempt, strained of +eye. Rennie rode in the lead, his eyes on the trail. The eyes of the +others prodded and tested the valley into which they were descending.</p> + +<p>By various signs they knew they were closing the gap which separated +them from their quarry. When they reached the abandoned camp they +dismounted and Rennie and Bush tested the ashes.</p> + +<p>"Warm where they ain't wet," said Bush. "This is the earliest we've ever +struck their camp yet. They made slow time yesterday. Can't be many +hours ahead."</p> + +<p>"Looks to me like their horses is playin' out," Rennie agreed. "Well, +let's get goin'."</p> + +<p>They rode on down the valley. The trail was plain, and the tracks of +horses in the vanishing light snow. They strung along at a steady jog.</p> + +<p>From the left, clean and sharp came the vibrant crash of a rifle shot. +Instantly the hills took it up, flinging it in echoes back and forth. +But with the echoes came other shots, not clear but blunt, muffled, +multiplying the riot of sound. They jerked their horses to a standstill.</p> + +<p>"Not more 'n a mile away," said Rennie. "Them boys is further ahead. It +can't be them."</p> + +<p>"We'll darn soon see," said Bush.</p> + +<p>They turned in the direction of the shots, spreading out riding slowly. +And presently they came upon a pony standing with dropped reins.</p> + +<p>"Why," Turkey exclaimed, "it's Paul Sam's! I'd know that cayuse +anywhere."</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the calico pony. Angus, too recognized it. If +Paul Sam were there it could be but for one purpose.</p> + +<p>"Ride slow," Bush advised. "We don't want to overlook anything."</p> + +<p>But in less than five hundred yards they came upon tragedy. Paul Sam and +Blake lay as they had fallen. In the background a gaunt horse raised his +head for a moment from his browsing.</p> + +<p>They dismounted, ringing the prostrate figures around. Bush removed his +hat, not out of respect for the dead, but to scratch his head.</p> + +<p>"Gosh!" he observed inadequately. Rennie loosened the old fingers from +the knife haft and made a swift examination. He picked up a rifle +cartridge, unexploded, with the cap faintly dinted.</p> + +<p>"Missed fire!" he said. "Then Blake took the gun away from him and went +for his six-shooter and the old man went for his knife. Lord!"</p> + +<p>Angus said nothing. He felt he had been defrauded, hardly used. By day +and by night one vision had haunted him—Faith's soft throat, bruised +and discolored. Just so he had made up his mind to kill Blake, with his +hands, repaying him measure for measure. His disappointment was bitter.</p> + +<p>"The old man beat you to it," said Rennie, "but I guess he had the right +to, if he could."</p> + +<p>Angus nodded. It was true enough. But Turkey was picking up the +scattered money which Blake had let fall. It opened a field for +speculation. No doubt this was some of Braden's money, and the brothers +had divided with Blake. But why had Blake quit them? Bush made a shrewd +guess.</p> + +<p>"Blake wasn't no game bird," he said. "He'd quit any time rather than go +to a show-down. Mabbe that was what he was tryin' to do."</p> + +<p>"And bumped into one," said Rennie. "But I wonder! We're gettin' close, +and it ain't so far to the Cache now. It wouldn't do 'em no good to get +there with us right behind. They might make a stand and take a chance."</p> + +<p>"Or bushwhack us," the deputy suggested. "Us ridin' along single file in +some bad place and them shootin' from cover—hell! we'd be down and +kickin' before we could draw a gun."</p> + +<p>"That's so," Rennie replied thoughtfully. "We'd better go careful. Well, +I s'pose we better try to bury these dead folks while we're here."</p> + +<p>"The Injun, anyway," said Bush. "Give him the best of it."</p> + +<p>They did the best they could, and built above with stones. Then they +went back and took up the pursuit, holding on till darkness hid the +trail. By daylight they were away, and even earlier than before they +came upon the deserted camp.</p> + +<p>And now the old trail began to ascend. It led into a country wild and +rugged, the jagged vertebrae of a mountain range seamed and scarred with +gulch and canon. It was very bad for horses and very hard work for +everybody. But signs showed that they were very near their quarry.</p> + +<p>"We're darn near on top of 'em," said Rennie, and thereafter he rode +with gun in hand.</p> + +<p>But it was late in the afternoon when they got their first glimpse of +the fugitives, who were rounding a bare shoulder ahead and above them. +Two were riding and one was leading his horse. They themselves were not +seen for a growth of brush at that point of the trail intervened. They +looked to Bush for instructions.</p> + +<p>"There ain't much sun left and they'll be goin' into camp soon," the +deputy said. "We'll leave the horses here with one man, and the rest of +us go ahead. While they're makin' camp we'll stand 'em up. What say, +Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Who stays with the horses?"</p> + +<p>"Turkey," Bush decided. "He's the youngest."</p> + +<p>"I'm damned if I do," Turkey rebelled. "Stay yourself. You're the +oldest."</p> + +<p>Bush grinned. "Can't, sonny, though I'd love to." He drew a dilapidated +pack of cards from his pocket and spread them fanwise. "Draw one. Low +stays. Deuce is low."</p> + +<p>Drury drew low, cursed his luck. McClintock on one knee lacing a +shoepack grinned at him.</p> + +<p>"I wisht you'd sponge off my cayuse's back, Joe. He's gettin' sore. +While you're about it, with nothin' else to do, you might go over the +whole lot."</p> + +<p>Drury's retort put his first outburst in the shade. Laughter stirred him +to fresh efforts.</p> + +<p>"Now, boys!" said Bush.</p> + +<p>He took the lead, Rennie behind him, then Angus.</p> + +<p>Angus was glad to be out of the saddle, and glad, too, that the end of +the chase was at hand. With the death of Blake much of his interest in +it had vanished. There was still Gavin, who if Braden's dying +declaration was to be believed had killed his father. But strangely +enough he felt little or no enmity toward him. He thought he should +feel more. Turkey, behind him, spoke.</p> + +<p>"I guess this is the finish of that bunch. If they start anything, we +want to get Gavin—if he killed father."</p> + +<p>Angus was silent for a moment. There was the possibility that it would +not be a one-sided affair. He was not troubled for himself, but Turkey +was rash.</p> + +<p>"Don't take any chances, kid, if there is trouble."</p> + +<p>"Not a chance," Turkey replied cheerfully. "Anybody that beats me to the +trigger will have to go some."</p> + +<p>"That wasn't what I meant. Look after yourself. Don't get hurt."</p> + +<p>"Are you trying to tell me to play it safe?" Turkey demanded with +virtuous indignation. "Why I ought to report you to Bush. Look after +yourself. You're married. Play it safe! Huh! You bet I will—with a fast +gun."</p> + +<p>But the sun was going down. Unless the fugitives suspected something +they would soon be making camp. Now and then Bush stopped to listen. +None now spoke above a whisper. It was like the last hundred yards of a +long, hard stalk of big game. In this case the game was big enough, and +dangerous. Mistakes could not be afforded.</p> + +<p>Bush stopped suddenly. Distinct in the stillness came the quick +"lick-lock" of an ax. The deputy nodded.</p> + +<p>They came upon the camp. It was on a little flat at the mouth of a wild +draw, a little glade fringed with brush, through which ran a trickle of +a spring creek. At one side the horses, unsaddled, grazed. Gavin, at the +other side, was dragging in a dry pole for firewood. Gerald knelt beside +a freshly kindled fire. Larry was getting food from a sack.</p> + +<p>It was Larry who saw them almost at the instant they saw him. He cried a +warning. Gerald rose swiftly. Gavin dropped his pole. Bush stepped +forward and held up his hand.</p> + +<p>"I want you boys," he said.</p> + +<p>"You can't have us," Gerald replied. "That's cold, Bush."</p> + +<p>"Don't be foolish," Bush advised. "I want you, and I'm going to get you. +And that's cold, too."</p> + +<p>"Then fly at it!" Gerald cried, and with the words jerked his gun and +fired.</p> + +<p>Bush staggered, twisted and went down; but he drew his gun as he did so +and began to shoot from the ground. The lonely mountain camp became an +inferno of shattering, rolling sound.</p> + +<p>Angus felt his hat lift as in a sudden squall. At the same moment Turkey +spun half around and against him, destroying his aim.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right!" the youngster gasped, and in proof of his assertion +fired.</p> + +<p>Bustede, his right arm hanging, had dropped his rifle and was struggling +to draw his six-shooter with his left hand. McClintock, on one knee, was +working the lever of his rifle like a saw. Rennie, a gun in either hand, +unhooked them in a rattling roar.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Gerald pitched forward on his face. Larry doubled up and went +down. But Gavin was apparently unhurt. He saw his brothers fall. For an +instant he stood looking at them. Then he turned and bounded for the +sheltering brush. With the rush of a bull moose he crashed into it while +a sleet of lead cut twigs around him, and disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Git him!" Bush croaked from the ground. "Git him, somebody. Oh, sink my +soul for all rotten shootin'! Six guns-and he makes the timber! Agh-r!"</p> + +<p>Angus stooped for an instant over Turkey. The youngster, very white of +face, was sitting on the ground; but he was outcursing Bush.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt much? Where?"</p> + +<p>"Not much. My shoulder. Get him, damn him! Get him for father!"</p> + +<p>Angus found Rennie running beside him. It was impossible to trail the +fugitive. All they could do was to keep on up the draw and trust to +luck. But the pace and the rough ground soon told on Rennie.</p> + +<p>"I can't travel no more," he gasped. "Too old. You go ahead."</p> + +<p>"Go back and help the boys," Angus said. "There's a moon to-night and I +may not be back. If I don't find him I'll come in in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Be darn sure you do come in. Don't take no chances."</p> + +<p>Angus ran on up the draw. Now that he was alone he began to put forth +his strength and speed while the light should last. He was sure that +Gavin would make for the higher ground. He would cross the summit of +that range, and go ahead for the Cache. Though he had neither food nor +outfit he had his six-shooter and presumably ammunition and matches. +Angus knew that he himself would suffer little more than inconvenience +if he were in Gavin's place.</p> + +<p>The draw narrowed, and steep hills closed in on either hand. He turned +to the right and began to climb. Darkness overtook him and he stopped. +The cold chilled his sweating body with the cessation of motion, but +Gavin was as badly off. When the moon rose he went on again, but it was +slow work. Objects were distorted. Shadows lay where he would have had +light. Once he slipped and fell, slithering twenty feet and barely +saving himself from an almost perpendicular drop of a hundred. He +crawled back with difficulty, but his rifle was gone. He had heard it +clang far below him. However, he had his belt gun, and so was on a par +with Gavin.</p> + +<p>His objective was what seemed to be a notch in the summit. It was what +he would make for were he in Gavin's place. He toiled upward +methodically, without hurry now, for there might be a long trail ahead. +If Gavin could go to the Cache so could he. The timber began to thin +out, to stunt. Trees were dwarfed, twisted by the mountain winds, mere +miniatures. Presently they ceased altogether. He was above timberline.</p> + +<p>There the thin snow partially covered the ground, increasing the +difficulty of travel. But its actinic qualities gave more light. It was +past midnight, and the moon was well up. He had been traveling for more +than seven hours.</p> + +<p>For a moment he paused to rest, his lungs feeding greedily on the thin, +cold air, and surveyed the scene below. It was a black fur of tree-tops, +rolling, undulating, cleft with lines of greater darkness indicating +greater depths. He could look over the tops of lesser mountains. Above +were the peaks of the range, whitened spires against the sky.</p> + +<p>In those far heights of the mountain wilderness one seemed to touch the +rim of space itself. The moon, the night, the height produced an effect +of unspeakable vastness. It seemed to press in, to enfold the tiny atom +crawling upon and clinging to the surface of the earth. There finite and +infinite made contact. It was like the world's end, the <i>Ultima Thule</i> +of ancient man.</p> + +<p>Some such thoughts, vague, scarcely formed, passed through his mind. +The ranch, ploughed land, houses, seemed to belong to another world.</p> + +<p>Once more he began to climb, and now that he was close to the summit the +going was easier. Suddenly he stopped. There, clear in the moonlight, +was the track of a moccasin-clad foot.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt that it was Gavin's. Knowing his own pace Angus knew +that the big man could not be far ahead. No doubt he would keep going, +over the summit and down the other side, for timber. Once in the timber, +with a fire, he would rest. His trail across would be covered by the +first wind. He would not suspect that any one would or could follow him +by night.</p> + +<p>Angus followed the trail easily by the bright moonlight, noting grimly +that the length of the stride was almost identical with his own. The +prints were clean, showing that the feet had been cleanly lifted and set +down, token of energy unimpaired.</p> + +<p>When he reached the summit he took a careful survey. It was a desolate +plateau, swept and scoured by the winds and rains and snow of unnumbered +centuries. On it nothing grew. Here and there bowlders loomed blackly. +But nothing moved. Apparently, it was as bare of life as the dead +mountains of the moon. The trail led straight on.</p> + +<p>Satisfied of this, Angus followed the trail at speed. Now and then it +turned out to avoid a bowlder, but otherwise it went straight ahead, as +though no doubt of direction existed in its maker's mind. Presently it +swung around a huge rock and then turned north. Angus glanced casually +at the bowlder and passed by; but he had taken no more than three +strides in the new direction when a voice behind him commanded:</p> + +<p>"Stop! Put up your hands!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI</h2> + +<h3>STRONG MEN</h3> + + +<p>The tone forbade disobedience or delay. Angus turned to face a gun in +the hands of Gavin French. The latter peered at him for a moment and +laughed shortly.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was you," he said. "Nobody else could have made as good +time. You're a good guesser, too. Well—unbuckle your belt with your +left hand and let it drop. Keep your right hand up. That's it. Now step +away from it."</p> + +<p>Having no option Angus obeyed, cursing himself internally for being +fooled by the old trick of doubling back. Gavin lowered his gun.</p> + +<p>"You can take 'em down," he said. "Now what's the next play?"</p> + +<p>"That's up to you," Angus told him.</p> + +<p>"Does look like it," the big man admitted. "But you know damned well I +can't shoot you in cold blood. If I roped you up here and left you, you +might not be found. I can't take you with me. So it's partly up to you. +This is hell's own rotten mess from start to finish. I knew it would be, +from the time Jerry lost his head and plugged Braden. I suppose he's +dead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And Jerry and Larry, too?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. I didn't wait to make sure."</p> + +<p>"Sure to be," Gavin said calmly. "Jerry came ahead on his face and Larry +wilted in a bunch. They got it, all right. I had a fool's luck. Any of +your bunch get it hard?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. We were lucky."</p> + +<p>"You sure were. We were going to hold you up to-morrow, if we found a +good place, but you got the jump on us. You were closer than we thought. +So it seems I'm the only one left, bar Blake, and I don't count him. He +quit us yesterday to save his skin. Maybe he was wise, at that."</p> + +<p>"Blake is dead."</p> + +<p>The big man exclaimed in astonishment. "Dead! How?"</p> + +<p>Angus told him. Also he told why he himself had hunted Blake. Gavin +French uttered a deep malediction.</p> + +<p>"If I had known this," he said, "he would never have come with us. I +think I would have handled him myself. But I don't suppose you believe +that."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Angus returned. "You are a man, and he never was."</p> + +<p>Gavin French eyed him for a moment. "I guess you're right—about him, +anyway," he said. "He got what was coming to him. Well, that leaves +me—and Kathleen." He shook his head moodily. "I tell you straight, +Mackay, that I'm not going to be taken. I've stood you up, but I don't +know what I'm going to do with you. If you'll give me your word to go +back to your bunch and give me that much start, you may pick up your gun +and go."</p> + +<p>"Will you answer me one question straight?" Angus asked.</p> + +<p>"Anything you like," the big man promised. "It won't make much +difference now."</p> + +<p>"Gavin French, did you kill my father?"</p> + +<p>The big man started violently. "Did I—What makes you ask that?"</p> + +<p>"You promised me a straight answer. But Braden said so—before he died."</p> + +<p>Gavin French did not reply immediately. "Braden was a rotten liar all +his life," he said at last. "But I promised you a straight answer, and I +keep my word. Yes, I killed your father—at least, I suppose that's what +it comes to."</p> + +<p>Angus drew a long breath. Its hissing intake was clear in the silence.</p> + +<p>"You suppose!" he said. "My father was not armed. Do you think I will +let you go, gun or no gun. One of us stays on this summit, Gavin +French!"</p> + +<p>"In your place I would say just that," Gavin admitted. "But I am going +to tell you how it happened; and then I am going to let you take up your +gun and do what you like. And just remember that if I wanted to lie I +would have done it in the first place."</p> + +<p>He paused a moment frowning at Angus.</p> + +<p>"The day your father was shot," he began, "I was on the range looking +for horses, and I had my rifle. In the afternoon I was riding up the +long coulee by Cat Creek when I heard a shot ahead, and in a few minutes +I came upon a steer staggering along. Then he rolled over and lay +kicking. I got off my horse and saw your brand on him, and that he had +been shot. Just then your father came tearing up the coulee. He saw me +beside the dead steer, my rifle in my hand, and naturally he thought I +had done the killing. He had no earthly use for me, and besides that he +and I had some trouble a week before over a two-year-old. So when he +rode up I knew there was going to be more trouble, and I was dead right.</p> + +<p>"He didn't give me much chance to explain, and he didn't get off his +horse. He damned me for a liar and a rustler, and suddenly he reached +down and grabbed the barrel of my rifle with both hands. I've often +wished I had let him take it, but by that time he was so damned mad that +I wasn't going to let him have a gun, and I was pretty hot myself. So I +hung onto it and tried to twist it out of his hands. Then his horse +started to back. I was dragged along, holding to the gun, and my hold +slipped. I swear I don't know how it happened, unless my slipping hand +lifted the hammer, but anyway the rifle went off.</p> + +<p>"He let go then, and his horse bolted. I didn't know he was badly hurt, +because he was riding all right. In fact I wasn't sure he was hit at +all. That was the last I saw of him. My own horse was frightened by the +shot and it took me some time to catch him. I rode two or three miles +looking for your father, but I was afraid that would lead to more +trouble, because I thought the first thing he would do would be to +organize himself with a gun. So I went home and kept my mouth shut. The +next day I heard he was dead. That's all. And there's your gun. If you +feel like playing even, go to it."</p> + +<p>But Angus as he listened knew that Gavin French was telling the exact +truth. He could visualize the tragedy of that bygone day of his boyhood. +His father's actions, as related by Gavin, were in exact keeping with +his character. But in the end, though convinced that Gavin had fired +with intent to kill, he had died in grim silence rather than leave to +his son a heritage of hate and revenge.</p> + +<p>"I believe it happened as you say it did," he said. "There is nothing to +play even for."</p> + +<p>The big man sighed deeply. "It's not every man who would believe it," he +said; "but it's true. I know I should have come forward and told how it +was, then, but I had only my own word. If your father had told anybody +about the two-year-old and the words we had had, it would have been bad. +So I just kept quiet."</p> + +<p>"How did Braden know?"</p> + +<p>"From Tenas Pete. I believe that Siwash shot the steer himself and saw +what happened. Braden told me the Indian had told him the whole thing. +That was a year after, and Pete had broken his neck with a bad cayuse. +Braden tried to hold it over me till I put the fear of God in his heart +one night when we were alone. I wouldn't do his dirty work, and I didn't +know till too late what Blake and Jerry had done. I mean about your +ditch. Larry wasn't in that. I couldn't give my brothers away, could I? +Oh, it's a rotten mess from start to finish!"</p> + +<p>He stared gloomily across the moonlit spaces, frowning heavily.</p> + +<p>"So there's the whole thing," he said. "I've felt like telling you +before, but what was the use? From first to last my family has done you +dirt. Well, I'm the only man left, and I'll pay for the crowd. I'll be +the goat. Short of surrendering, which I won't do, I'll give you any +satisfaction you like. If you want it with a gun, all right. But we're +two big, skookum men. I don't know which of us is the better, though I +think I am. If you can best me to-night, in a fair fight without +weapons, I'll go back with you; and if I best you you go back alone. +What do you say?"</p> + +<p>Angus knew that Gavin meant it. The proposal was primitive in conception +and simplicity. Perhaps because of that it appealed to him strongly.</p> + +<p>"There are not many men who would make that offer," he said.</p> + +<p>"I would not make it to any other man," Gavin replied. "Does it go?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The big man threw out his hands in a gesture of impatience.</p> + +<p>"Then what the devil does?" he demanded. "Why not? You're no more afraid +of me than I am of you. What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," Angus said. "Now that I know how my father died, I have +nothing against you. Braden I care nothing about. So I am going back the +way I came. But I am glad you do not think me a coward."</p> + +<p>Gavin French drew a deep breath and his cold blue eyes for a moment held +a curiously soft expression.</p> + +<p>"Mackay," he said, "it probably sounds queer, but I have always liked +you. And I liked you better after that little fuss we had on Christmas +night, for then I knew you were strong as I am strong, and I hoped some +day, for the pure fun of it, we might see which of us was the better +man. A coward? Lord, no! I know why you are doing this. I'll bet you saw +Kathleen."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Angus admitted, "I saw her. She told me. But that's not—"</p> + +<p>"You needn't lie about it," Gavin said gruffly. "That sort of thing is +about all you would lie about. She's a good girl. I—I'm fond of her." +He hesitated over the admission. "We were a queer bunch—our family. +Stand-off. No slush. Afraid to show that we were fond of each other. +That was the way with Kit and me. If I can make this, it will be +different in the future. I'm not pulling any repentance stuff, you +savvy. What's done is done, and it can't be helped. Well, it's time I +was moving."</p> + +<p>"How are you fixed for matches and smoking?"</p> + +<p>"None too well—if you can spare either."</p> + +<p>Angus handed over what he had in his pockets. "I wish you luck," he +said. "I hope you make it—clean."</p> + +<p>"I'll make it," Gavin replied calmly, "if it's my luck, and if it isn't +I won't. It won't make any difference to anybody but Kit. If it wasn't +for her I wouldn't care—either way."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about her. We will see that she wants for nothing. Her home +will be with us if she will make it there, till you are ready for her."</p> + +<p>"That's white of you," Gavin said with something very like emotion in +his voice; "but she'd better do as we had arranged. Tell her I'll make +it sure. And tell Faith—if you don't mind—that I said her husband was +a good man—oh, a damned good man!—every way." He was silent for a +moment. "Shake?" he said and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>Their grips met hard.</p> + +<p>"Well, so long," said Gavin.</p> + +<p>"So long," said Angus.</p> + +<p>The big man nodded and turned north. Angus turned south. In a hundred +paces he looked back. Gavin, already indistinct in the deceptive +moonlight was standing at the top of a slight rise doing likewise. He +waved his hand, turned, and the rise hid him from view. Though Angus +watched for some moments he did not reappear. He had crossed the divide.</p> + +<p>Then Angus, too, turned again, and realizing for the first time that the +night cold of the height had chilled him to the bone struck a brisk pace +down the southern slope; while behind him a rising wind broomed the dry +snow of the desolate summit, effacing all trace of the trespassing feet +of men.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII</h2> + +<h3>PEACE</h3> + + +<p>Angus was riding up to the French ranch. He had just parted from his +companions. Their homeward progress had been slow because of the wounded +men. Turkey and Rennie had gone on toward the home ranch, and Bush and +the other toward town. But he had turned off the trail to see Kathleen. +He hated his errand, but it was better that he should tell her than +leave it to a stranger. He would be glad to get it over and go home—to +Faith.</p> + +<p>As he approached the house he saw her. Apparently she had seen him +coming, for she came down to greet him. He dismounted stiffly. He felt +her eyes searching his face.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she queried. He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Kathleen. It is bad news."</p> + +<p>"I expected it," she said quietly. "Tell me about it—all!"</p> + +<p>He told her the main facts, omitting details. When he had concluded she +sat motionless, her eyes on the glory of the evening sky above the +western ranges.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said again.</p> + +<p>"I understand," she said. "You are sorry that it had to be. I knew what +might happen if the boys were overtaken. It was inevitable. Well, they +made their choice and took their chance, and it went against them. I +think Gavin will tell me more than you have told me—some day. Well, +this is the end of a good many things. I was merely waiting for word. +To-morrow I am going away."</p> + +<p>"There is no need. If you would stay with us—"</p> + +<p>"I am just as grateful, but it is best not."</p> + +<p>"It may be," he admitted. "Is there anything I can do?"</p> + +<p>"If you would take Finn? He's too lively for Faith, but he's a good +horse. I hate to sell him to a stranger."</p> + +<p>"I will buy him."</p> + +<p>"You will not buy him. Are you too proud to do me that kindness?"</p> + +<p>"No. I will take him and give him a good home all his life."</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"For taking the gift of a good horse?"</p> + +<p>"You know better. Finn and I were friends. He—he may miss me a little." +For the first time her voice was not quite steady. "To feel that way +about a horse!" she said scornfully. "Well, it's something to be +missed—even by a horse."</p> + +<p>"I shall miss you," Angus told her. Her eyes rested on him gravely for a +long moment.</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean," she said. "You liked me because I was a frank +sort of individual. You may think of me now and then, when there is +nothing else on your mind. But as for missing me—pshaw! Nobody will +miss me. I had no friends."</p> + +<p>It was brutally true. Kathleen French, highly organized, sensitive, +proud, had repelled friendships. She had hidden real loneliness under a +cloak of indifference. Apparently sufficient unto herself, others had +taken her at her own apparent valuation. Her voice was tinged with +bitterness. Angus realized vaguely a part of the truth.</p> + +<p>"I don't think anybody thought you wanted friends."</p> + +<p>"Everybody wants friends," she returned. "Often the people who want +them most have not the knack of making them. But I am not complaining. I +have always been able to take my medicine without making a very bad +face."</p> + +<p>"You are a clean, straight, game girl," he said. "One of these days you +will marry, and your husband will be a lucky man."</p> + +<p>She smiled for the first time, but her mouth twitched slightly.</p> + +<p>"I am game enough," she said. "I suppose that goes with the breed—like +other things. Oh, yes, I am game enough to run true under punishment. +But as for marrying—I don't think so. I was in love once—or thought I +was."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know about that," Angus said in surprise. "I'm sorry I said +anything."</p> + +<p>"No, of course you didn't know. Nobody did—not even the man in the +case. He married another girl."</p> + +<p>"He lost a mighty fine wife," Angus said.</p> + +<p>"That's nice of you. But heaven knows what sort of wife I'd have made. +The girl he married will suit him better. And now I mustn't keep you, +Angus. Faith will be waiting. I won't see either of you again. She +hasn't much cause to love me or mine, but she has never shown it by word +or look. She is real, Angus, and I hope you will be very happy, both of +you, all through life. Some day—oh, a long time hence, when the things +that are so real and hard now have been dimmed and softened by the +years—I may see you both again. Till then—good-by."</p> + +<p>Angus took her strong, firm hand in his, and looked into her somber +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Good-by," he said, "and thank you for your good wishes. Good luck to +you and to Gavin. Tell him that. And remember that anything I can do at +any time for either you or him will be done cheerfully."</p> + +<p>"I will remember," she said. "I wish you and Gavin had known each other +better. You would have been friends. You are both real men."</p> + +<p>She knew nothing of Gavin's connection with his father's death, for that +was one of several things he had not told her. Another was that he had +lied to Bush. He had said that he had found no trace of Gavin. Kathleen +stood beside him as he mounted, and when, having ridden a few hundred +yards, he turned in the saddle and glanced back she was still standing +where he had left her, motionless.</p> + +<p>But as the French ranch vanished from view Angus drew a long breath. It +was more than the relief from the performance of an unpleasant duty. A +chapter seemed to have closed, the old order of things ended, a new one +begun.</p> + +<p>Already the shadows were falling, the hills purple black against the +west. Well, he would be home as fast as a good horse could carry him. +Turkey would have told Faith, and she would be waiting for him. He shook +the big, gaunted chestnut into a fast lope.</p> + +<p>But at a sharp bend he met Faith, almost riding her down.</p> + +<p>"Why, old girl!" he cried, while Chief's hoofs slid and grooved the +trail and the reliable Doughnut side-stepped expertly. "This is fine!"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't wait," she said. "I have been waiting too long already. So +when Turkey came home I came to meet you."</p> + +<p>"We had to travel slowly. And somebody had to tell Kathleen. I thought +it was better that I should."</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry for her."</p> + +<p>"So am I. But tell me about yourself. How does it feel to be a grass +widow?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to tell you. I've been worried. I suppose I've been +silly. But Jean will tell you all about that. She was aways telling me +not to worry, cheering me up."</p> + +<p>"Has she made it up with Chetwood yet?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my goodness!" Faith exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Why, they're not married, are they?"</p> + +<p>"No. Why, it went clean out of my mind, but this afternoon when I saw +Turkey coming, I ran down to meet him and came around the corner of the +wagon shed, and there the two of them were. And they looked as if they +had been—well, you know."</p> + +<p>"Kissing each other?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it looked like that."</p> + +<p>But the ranch came in sight, its broad, fertile acres dim in the fading +light. The smell of the fresh earth of fall plowing struck the nostrils, +and a tang of wood smoke from new clearing. From the corrals came the +voices of cattle. A colt whinnied in youthful falsetto for his dam. All +sounds carried far in the hush of evening.</p> + +<p>"Seems odd to think this will be broken up," Angus said. "Houses and +streets on the good land; maybe a church on that knoll, a school over +yonder. I ought to be glad, because it means money. But I'm not."</p> + +<p>"I know," his wife nodded wisely. "I've been a wanderer and a city +dweller most of my life, but I can understand how the one spot on all +the earth may claim a man. And you'll always want a ranch, and stock, +and wide spaces, no matter how much money you have. Oh, yes, boy, I +know."</p> + +<p>"I guess you are right," he admitted. "I grew up that way. Well, +there's plenty of time to think it over. I can take another crop off +this." He lifted his head and sniffed the air. "Old girl," he said, "I +believe I smell grub—real grub—cooking. And I haven't had a real meal +for three days. We were sort of shy coming out, you know."</p> + +<p>"My heavens!" Faith cried, "Turkey said the same thing. When I left he +was telling Mrs. Foley he would marry her for a pie. Let's hurry."</p> + +<p>Some hours later Angus, shaven and fed, sat with Faith enjoying rest and +tobacco. It was good to lie back in a chair, to relax, to be in a house +again protected from the wind and cold, to look forward to a comfortable +bed in place of one blanket and such browse as could be scraped into a +heap as a dog scrapes leaves and rubbish to lie on. Though he could +sleep anywhere, by virtue of youth and a hard body, he appreciated +comfort.</p> + +<p>Earlier in the evening Jean, Chetwood and Turkey had borne them company. +But the two former had gone, followed by caustic comment from the +latter. And soon after that young gentleman had announced that Angus and +Faith were a darn sight worse, and that he was going to bed.</p> + +<p>Left alone, Faith spoke the thing which was in her mind.</p> + +<p>"I am glad," she said, "that it was not you who killed Blake."</p> + +<p>"I intended to kill him," he replied, "and I would if it had been my +luck to come up with him. But I think I am glad, now, that I didn't, +though he deserved it. Anyway Paul Sam had the better right."</p> + +<p>"The poor old Indian!" Faith said softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. If he could talk about it he would say that he +couldn't die better. And then he was a very old man."</p> + +<p>"But life may be sweet to the old."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But when a man is alone, when all of his blood and the friends of +his youth and manhood are gone, there can't be much to live for. I would +wish to die before that time comes to me."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk of dying." She shivered a little. But the chord of +melancholy in his being had been struck and vibrated.</p> + +<p>"Why not? Talking will not bring death nearer, nor stave it off. +'<i>Crioch onarach!</i>' You have no Gaelic, but it means a good finish—an +honorable end to life. And that is the main thing. What does it matter +when you die, if you die well? I would not live my last years like a +toothless, stiff, old dog, dragging his legs around the house with the +sun. I would rather go out with the taste of life sweet in my mouth."</p> + +<p>"We have many years before us, you and I," she said. "I think they will +be happy years, boy."</p> + +<p>"They will be largely what we make them. I remember my father's words +when it was near the end with him; and <i>he</i> was a hard man. The things +worth least in life, he said, were hate and revenge; and the things +worth most in life and more in death were love, and work well done, and +a heart clean of bitterness. I did not think so then. But now I am +beginning to think he was right."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he was right," she said.</p> + +<p>Fell a long silence. At last Faith took the banjo on her knee, and +smiling at her husband began to pick the strings gently. She played at +random, snatches of melody, broken, indistinct; old airs, odd, +half-forgotten. Now and then she sang very softly.</p> + +<p>Angus listened in utter content. He seemed to have reached a harbor, a +sheltered haven. Toil, struggle, stress seemed far off, faint memories. +The spell of the home was upon him in full. Little things—familiar +furnishings, the backs of books, pictures—seemed like the smiling faces +of old friends. It was, he recognized, the force of contrast with his +recent experiences; but it was very pleasant. Softly the banjo talked; +and with the haunting murmur of gut and parchment came Faith's voice, +low but clear, singing to herself rather than to him.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Hame, laddie, hame, an' it's hame ye'll come to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hame to yer hame in yer ain countree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whaur th' ash, an' th' oak an' th' bonnie hazel tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They be all a-growin' green in yer ain countree.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>For a moment the singing ceased, while the banjo whimpered uncertainly +as if seeking a new tune. But it steadied to the same air.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'If the bairn be a girl she shall wear a gowden ring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if it be a boy he shall fight for his king—'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Something in her voice, a soft, crooning note, caused Angus to stare at +the singer. Up from the throat to brow a great wave of color swept. But +her voice did not falter:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'With his tarpaulin hat and his coat of navy blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall pace the quarter-deck as his daddy used to do!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Land of Strong Men, by Arthur M. 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Chisholm + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Land of Strong Men + +Author: Arthur M. Chisholm + +Illustrator: Frank Tenney Johnson + +Release Date: September 2, 2010 [EBook #33612] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAND OF STRONG MEN *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Roger Frank, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE LAND OF STRONG MEN + + BY A. M. CHISHOLM + + AUTHOR OF _"Precious Waters" and "The Boss of Wind River"_ + +ILLUSTRATED BY +FRANK TENNEY JOHNSON + +New York +THE H. K. FLY COMPANY +Publishers + +Copyright, 1919, by +THE H. K. FLY COMPANY + + +[Illustration: _Before the heavy snows these bunches were rounded up and +driven to the ranch._] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I Lost and Found + + II A Death Bed + + III Angus Asserts Himself + + IV Judge Riley--Drunk and Sober + + V Angus in Love and War + + VI Gain and Loss + + VII The Frenches Again + + VIII Old Sam Paul Makes a Proposition + + IX Dorgan + + X Before the Race + + XI A Hold-up + + XII The Race + + XIII Mainly About Chetwood + + XIV A Fight with a Grizzly + + XV Faith Winton Turns Up + + XVI A Talk with Judge Riley + + XVII A Crisis + + XVIII Christmas at the Frenches + + XIX Introducing Mrs. Foley + + XX An Enemy at Work + + XXI Watching + + XXII Brother to Brother + + XXIII Faiths's Farm + + XXIV A Demand and Answer + + XXV Cross Currents + + XXVI Conspiracy + + XXVII While Shelling Peas + + XXVIII Mrs. Foley on Marriage + + XXIX Sudden Death + + XXX Strangers Ask Questions + + XXXI The Auction + + XXXII Chetwood Unmasked + + XXXIII Another Surprise + + XXXIV A New Complication + + XXXV Braden Misses Some Papers + + XXXVI Turkey Plays a Hand + + XXXVII Duplicate Deeds + + XXXVIII Garland Plays a Hand + + XXXIX The Turning of the Screw + + XL Signs and Omens + + XLI Terror + + XLII Outlaws! + + XLIII Taking the Trail + + XLIV The Red Avenger + + XLV The Great Show-Down + + XLVI Strong Men + + XLVII Peace + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Before the heavy snows these bunches were rounded up and driven to the +ranch + +He turned the corner, and came full upon a huge, old-man grizzly + +Angus swung his arm against it, and it roared in his ear + +To Faith these trips were a novelty, opening a world new and wonderful + + + + +The Land of Strong Men + + + + +CHAPTER I + +LOST AND FOUND + + +It was light, but not yet day. The shadows of the night seemed to +linger, to retreat with reluctance; and as they were beaten back by the +sun, still far below the eastern curve of the earth and further +blockaded by giant mountain ranges also to the eastward, the clinging, +gray morning mists of early Fall came to replace them. In the pallid +light, a-swim with vapor, objects loomed gigantic and grotesque. + +The house which stood among the mists was of squared timbers, mortised +and fitted. It was unpainted, and the interstices were neatly filled +with plaster. The main part was two stories in height, but back of this +and joined to it was another log building, long and low. Evidently this +had been the original dwelling, to which the more pretentious structure +had been added. From one window of this rear building a light glimmered. + +The house was surrounded and in summer would be shaded by trees, +cottonwoods and soft maples; but these had shed most of their leaves and +the ground was yellowed with them. Close beside the house ran an +irrigation ditch in which clear mountain water purred and gurgled +softly. To the south loomed the roofs of stables, sheds, high corrals +and stacks of hay and straw. Beyond these were cleared, level fields. To +the northward, protected to some extent by the buildings and trees, was +a small orchard in neat rows. + +Now, the light in the rear window went out, and a moment later a door +opened and a boy emerged. He was apparently about eighteen, but +unusually tall and long of limb. At a casual glance he seemed to run to +legs and arms, but a second look would have shown that his chest was +broad and deep, and that his apparent ungainliness was due to age +merely. His face, naturally dark, was tanned to the color of an old +saddle. The cheekbones were high, the nose prominent, the mouth straight +and the boyish jaw firm. The eyes were dark, steady and sombre, shaded +by black eyebrows which slashed straight across the face, meeting above +the nose. The darkness of complexion, the heavy brows, the straight +mouth conveyed an expression almost of grimness. The boy wore a battered +felt hat, a fawn mackinaw coat, pants thrust into high socks and a pair +of moosehide moccasins. In his right hand he carried a rifle, in his +left a small cotton bag. The wooden handle of a knife stuck from a +jam-sheath in his belt. + +For a moment he stood sniffling the morning air like a dog, and then +with a light swiftness which gave the lie to his apparent ungainliness, +made for the stables. In a few moments he led out a brown pony. He tied +the cotton bag to the cantle, thrust the rifle into a saddle holster and +swung up. + +As he did so there was the sound of running feet, and a girl sped toward +him from the house. + +"Angus! Wait a minute!" she cried. She was apparently a couple of years +younger than the boy, slim, brown of hair, eye, and face, delicate of +feature. She held out a paper-wrapped parcel. "Here's some doughnuts for +your lunch," she said. + +But the boy frowned down at her. "I've got my lunch," he said tapping +the cotton bag. In it there was bread and cold meat, which he esteemed +manly fare. + +"But you like doughnuts," said the girl, "and I thought--I thought--" + +Her eyes filled with moisture which was not that of the mists, and the +boy either because of that or affected by the silent argument of the +doughnuts, relented. + +"Oh, well, give 'em here," he said, and dismounting untied the bag, +thrust in the doughnuts, made all fast again and remounted. "Tell father +I'll be back in time to feed the stock to-night." + +"Yes, Angus. I hope you'll get a deer." + +"Sure, I'll get one," the boy replied confidently. A thought seemed to +strike him. "Oh, thanks for the doughnuts." + +The girl beamed at this belated recognition. She felt fully repaid for +both the cooking and the early rising. For when a brother is going +hunting naturally his thoughts are far above such things as doughnuts +and younger sisters. Recognizing the propriety of this she turned back +to the house. + +The boy rode fast. He passed the boundaries of the ranch, followed a +road for a mile and then, turning into a beaten cattle trail, headed +eastward toward the flanks of a mountain range showing beneath the +skirts of the rising mist. + +The trail wound sinuously, rising from benchland to benchland, but the +boy stuck to it, for he knew that cattle invariably choose the easiest +way. Also he knew the country so near home like a book, or rather better +than he knew any written books. To him the land, lying as yet much as it +came from the hands of the Creator, carried more messages and held more +interesting things than any printed pages. Grouse scuttled aside or rose +with a roar of wings, and the boy eyed them regretfully. Once he caught +sight of a coyote, an arrogant, bushy-tailed youngster which, apparently +knowing that he was in a hurry, stood in full view watching him. Once he +stopped short at a momentary glimpse of something in thick bush. But as +he did not see it again, he rode on. + +While he still rode in the shadow of the eastern hills, the sun from +behind them struck the face of the western range ten miles or more +across Fire Valley. Behind that again it glinted on peaks still capped +with the snows of the previous winter. The sunshine moved downward to +the valley and eastward across it in a marching swath of gold. In that +clear, thin air to the keen eyes of the boy, peaks and rocks and even +trees miles away were sharply defined. Below him was a lake, pale silver +where the mists that still clung to its surface had parted. Half an hour +later it would take on the wondrous blue of mountain waters. But the boy +did not care for that, nor just then for the great unfolding panorama of +rolling, timber-clad hills, bare, gray peaks and blue sky. He was an +hour late and, as everybody knows, the early morning is the best time to +hunt. + +He had intended to enter a pass leading into the hills and turn from it +up a big draw which he knew held blacktail, but he gave up the idea and +turned along the base of the mountain. He was now in a country of +jackpine with huge, scattered, gloomy firs and chumps of cottonwood. +Numerous little spring-fed creeks ran through it, and there were rocky +coulees and small ponds. It was an ideal country for whitetail. There +the boy dismounted, hung his saddle from a tree out of the reach of a +possible porcupine, and put his pony on a rope. He glanced around +mechanically, noting the exact position and registering landmarks. Then +he levered a cartridge into the chamber of his rifle, dropped the hammer +to half cock, tucked the weapon under his arm and struck off parallel +with the base of the mountain. + +In motion the impression of awkwardness vanished. He walked with the +peculiar straight-footed, bent-kneed slouch which is the distinctive +mark of the woodsman and moccasin wearer; and is, moreover, extremely +easy because the weight of the body cushions on the natural +shock-absorbers, the ball of the foot and the bend of the knee, and so +is quite a different method of locomotion from the ordinary heel-jarring +stride. Also it is much faster than it looks. And so the boy moved +easily and silently, his moccasined feet automatically avoiding sticks +and loose stones. + +He did not hurry. Now and then he stopped, his eyes keen as a young +hawk's fixed on some ill-defined object, and he remained absolutely +motionless until it defined itself to his gaze. Occasionally he +inspected the soft ground, but though he saw many impressions of the +hoofs of deer he paid little attention to them. He followed the only +practical method of still-hunting, prowling along quietly and +watchfully. + +But luck seemed against him. Twice, in spite of his care, he heard the +thumping beat which told that deer, alarmed, were making a get-away, but +he did not see them. Being pardonably proud of his eyes and his ability +to move quietly, the boy was disgusted. Noon came and he had no meat. He +sat down by a spring which gushed cold from the base of a hill, and ate +his bread and meat and two doughnuts. Of the latter four remained. These +he saved against an emergency, and stretching himself on a patch of +yellow, sun-dried grass went to sleep like a young dog. + +In an hour he awoke, stretched himself, drank from the spring and +circling toward the mountain began to work back toward his pony. He had +covered perhaps half the return distance when he came suddenly upon a +young buck. At the same time the buck caught sight of him and set sail +for the protection of thick brush. + +Though taken by surprise, the boy was unflurried. He planted his feet +solidly, swung his rifle swiftly but without hurry, caught the leaping +form fair with the bead and squeezed the trigger. A second time the +rifle rapped on the heels of its own echo, and the buck pitched forward +sprawling, the stiffening gone from his slim limbs which kicked +convulsively. + +But instead of running forward eagerly, the boy scarcely shifted his +position as he pumped another cartridge into place. As the deer did not +rise he fed two fresh shells to the magazine methodically. There was no +youthful triumph in his face. Instead it showed a certain +dissatisfaction. + +"Ought to have downed him first shot," he muttered, and went forward. He +turned the deer over finding that the first bullet had stuck too far +back. Laying the rifle aside he stuck the animal and proceeded to dress +him. Completing his task he rose and scanned the brush thirty yards away +for a convenient sapling on which to hang his meat. + +As he looked, his eye was arrested by a movement in the bushes of +something dun or brown. Without taking his eyes from the spot he stooped +for his rifle, cocked it and advanced slowly. + +When he was within thirty feet of the bushes they shook, and the boy +halted, throwing his rifle forward, the butt halfway to his shoulders. +Then, from the shelter of the bushes out stepped a girl. + +She was apparently several years younger than the boy, slight, straight, +fair of hair, with clear blue eyes which, however, seemed a little puffy +and reddened. Her face, too, was streaked as with tears, and one sheer +stocking was torn so that the flesh peeped through. She held her arms +straight by her sides, her fists gripped tight. Plainly she was +frightened, but though her mouth quivered a little she looked the boy +straight in the face. + +If it had been a grizzly he would have been less surprised. The girl was +a stranger and, moreover, her dress of neat brown linen, her shoes, and +even the sheer, torn stockings, showed that she did not belong in that +neighborhood. + +"Hallo!" he said. She gave a little, gasping sigh of relief. + +"Why," she said, "you're just a white boy." She spoke with a faint +little lisp, which was really enticing. But her words did not please the +boy who privately considered himself a good deal of a man. + +"What did you think I was?" he asked in as gruff a voice as he could +attain. + +"I thought you were an In-di-an," she said, pronouncing the word in +syllables; "a growed-up--I mean a grown-up-In-di-an." + +Having known Indians all his life the boy found her words unflattering. +"What made you think that?" he queried. + +"Because you looked so black and bloody," she told him frankly. + +The boy was disgusted. What business had this girl to call him black? +"What's a kid like you doing away out here?" he demanded severely. And +he added wickedly: "Don't you know these woods are full of grizzlies and +cougars and wolves? It's a wonder you weren't eaten alive." + +The girl shivered and glanced fearfully back into the gloom of the firs. + +"I didn't mean to get lost, really." + +"Lost, are you?" + +"I was," she said, "but now, of course, you've found me. I'm not afraid +now, because I know you wouldn't let anything hurt me." + +At this belated tribute to his manhood the boy's expression softened. + +"Well, I guess you're safe now," he admitted. "How did you get lost, and +where from?" + +"I got lost from Uncle Godfrey's ranch." + +"Do you mean old Godfrey French's ranch?" + +"I mean Mr. Godfrey French's ranch," she corrected him. "You'll take me +there, won't you, like a nice boy?" + +The boy snorted. The ranch in question was nearly ten miles distant. Of +course she would ride his pony. He did not in the least mind the +walking, but it meant that he would have to leave the deer until the +next day, and meat was needed at home. However, there was no help for +it. + +"I suppose I'll have to," he said with the candor of his age. "How did +you get lost?" + +Her explanation was commonplace. She had gone for a ride in the morning, +and the mountains had seemed closer than they were. Tiring she had +dismounted, and had been unable to catch her pony. She had followed him +until finally he had disappeared, by which time she was hopelessly +confused. + +"Then," she said, "I walked and walked, and I found a lot of paths, but +they didn't seem to go anywhere. I--I was frightened. And then I heard +two shots and I ran as hard as could, and when I saw you I was +frightened again. But now of course it's all right." + +The boy grunted. It was just like a girl to let her pony get away, and +get lost, and follow cattle trails all over the country instead of +taking her bearings and striking for home as any intelligent being would +have done. Girls were fools, anyway. They were always getting into +trouble, and dumping themselves down on a man to be looked after. If old +Godfrey French was her uncle, why in blazes didn't some of the French +boys take care of this kid? They hadn't anything else to do. + +The boy had little or no use for the French family, which held itself a +little aloof from most of the inhabitants of the district. It consisted +of Godfrey French, his four sons and one daughter. The sons were young +men. They were all big, powerful young fellows, and one of them, Gavin, +was reputed to be the strongest man in the neighborhood. The daughter, a +long-limbed slip of a girl who rode like a cow-puncher, was about the +boy's age. Though Godfrey French had a ranch it was worked scarcely at +all. The boys did not like work, and apparently did not have to. Godfrey +French was reputed to have money. His ranch was a hang-out for what were +known as "remittance men", young Englishmen who received more or less +regular allowances from home--or perhaps to keep away from home. There +were rumors of gambling and hard drinking at French's ranch. + +"Well, I'll take you home," the boy said. "You can ride my pony. He's on +a rope a mile from here. But I'll have to hang up this buck, or the +coyotes will chew him." + +He found two small saplings close together, bent them down, trimmed them +and lashed their tops. Over these he placed the tied legs of the buck. +With a little search he found a long dry pole. With this he had a +tripod. As he hoisted with the pole the spring of the saplings raised +the buck, which dangled clear, out of reach of all four-footed +marauders. The girl watched him, wide-eyed. To her it seemed a +marvellously clever piece of engineering. + +"Well, now we'll be going," the boy announced. He started at his +ordinary pace, but reduced it immediately because she seemed very tired. +Coming to a creek she hesitated and stopped. + +"Won't you wash your face and hands, please?" she said. + +The boy stared at her, but washed obediently. So did she, and began to +dry her face with a tiny handkerchief at which the boy cast a glance of +contempt. He drew forth his own, which was two feet square, and +originally had been figured in red and yellow, but unfortunately the two +colors had run together. + +"Here, take this," he said. But the girl looked at the variegated square +suspiciously. + +"No, thank you. I'm afraid it's not san--sanitary." + +"It ain't--what?" the boy queried. + +"I mean it's not clean." + +"Sure it's clean," he returned indignantly. "You're mighty particular, +seems to me." Struck by a sudden thought he took the remains of his +lunch from his pocket and opened it, exposing four sadly crushed +doughnuts. "I don't s'pose you'd eat these, would you? Maybe they ain't +sanitary enough." + +But the girl who had had nothing to eat since morning, eyed the +delicacies longingly. + +"I--I'll take one, thank you." + +"Eat the bunch," said the boy generously. "I've had all I want. Sit down +and rest. There's no rush." + +The girl sat down, munching the crushed doughnuts with keen enjoyment, +while the boy stretched on the grass, his head pillowed in his locked +hands watched her curiously. Looking up she met his gaze. + +"They're awfully good," she said. "Did your mother make them?" + +"My mother is dead. Jean made 'em. She's my sister." + +"What is your name, please?" + +"My full name is Angus Struan Mackay." + +"How do you spell it?" + +"M-a-c-k-a-y." + +"But k-a-y spells 'K'. Why do you pronounce your name 'McKi'?" + +"Because it is," young Mackay replied with finality. + +"How many brothers and sisters have you?" + +"There's just father, and Jean and Turkey and me." + +"'Turkey'!" she exclaimed. "What a funny name! Is it a boy or a girl?" + +"His real name is Torquil," young Angus explained, "after my +grandfather. He's just a kid, like you. What is your own name?" + +"I am Faith Winton." + +"Faith Winton French?" + +"No, just Winton. Uncle Godfrey isn't really my uncle. That is, he is my +mother's uncle by marriage. My mother is dead, too. My father is Sewell +Winton." + +She stated the fact proudly; but the boy was unimpressed. + +"What does your father do for a living?" he asked. + +"My father is a great artist." + +"Is that so," said young Mackay. "You mean he paints pictures?" + +"Of course he does--great pictures. But I suppose, living here, you've +never seen them." Her tone expressed pity. + +"I've never seen painted pictures that looked like anything at all," +Angus Mackay returned with contempt. "There was a teacher at our school +that painted things, but you could not tell what it was all about. She +would paint what she would call a cow, but it would look like a horse, +all but the horns, and a poor horse, too. Has your father come here to +paint?" + +"No, he isn't well. He thought the change might do him good, but it +doesn't seem to. We are going away in a few days." + +But young Mackay was not interested in the painter's health, nor was he +specially interested in the painter's daughter. His immediate object now +that she had finished the doughnuts was to get her off his hands. And so +he set a good pace toward his pony, saddled, shortened the stirrups and +helped the girl up. No longer restrained by her inability to keep up +with his stride, he struck a swift, swinging gait which was faster than +the pony's walk. He paid little or no attention to girl or pony. It was +their business to keep up with him. He led the way without hesitation, +around sloughs, down coulees, through timber. When they had been +traveling thus for an hour or more he stopped suddenly. + +"Somebody is shouting," he said. "It will be your people looking for +you, likely. We will just wait here. You had better get down, for I am +going to shoot and he might not stand still." + +He fired three shots close together, and after an interval three more. +Soon afterward they could hear a distant whoop. Mackay answered, and in +a few minutes the search party which had been strung out combing benches +and coulees, began to converge upon them. + +First came Kathleen French, a dark-haired, blue-eyed girl sitting +astride a slashing, blaze-faced sorrel, and following her, her three +brothers, Blake, Gerald and Lawrence, the latter leading the pony which +had evaded Faith Winton. The pony had come in, it appeared, with the +saddle twisted down under its belly and kicked to flinders, and the +Frenches had united in blaming Larry, the youngest, who had given Faith +the pony and saddled it for her. + +"And lucky for you she wasn't hurt," Blake told him. He was a big, +powerfully built man, with a heavy, florid face which was already +beginning to show signs of the life he led. "If she'd been smashed up +you'd have got yours." + +Larry, a rangy, hawk-faced youngster, eyed his brother insolently. "I +would, hey! Well, not from you, and you can make a note of that." + +"Shut up!" said the sister. "Quit your scrapping. We may as well be +drifting. Climb up on this pony, Faith." + +Faith Winton held out her hand. "Good-by, Angus Mackay. And thank you so +much for finding me, and for the ride, and for the doughnuts." + +Young Mackay shook hands limply. "That is all right," he said, +embarrassed. But Kathleen French was reminded of an omission. + +"We're a nice lot!" she exclaimed. "Not one of us has thanked him for +looking after Faith. Well _I_ do, anyway. It was good of you, Angus +Mackay." + +"Oh, sure," Gerald French concurred carelessly. Not so heavily built as +his brother Blake, he was as tall and finer drawn. His face was oval, +his eyes dark and lazy, and his voice a drawl. "Thanks, Mackay." + +"Ditto," said young Larry. + +Blake French, reaching into his pocket pulled out a roll of currency and +stripped off a bill. "No, no, Cousin Blake!" Faith Winton exclaimed, but +he held it out to the boy. + +"Here you are, Mackay. That's better than thanks. I guess you can use +it." + +But the boy made no movement to take the money. "I was not bringing her +home for money, nor for thanks either," he said uncompromisingly. + +Blake laughed loudly. "I never heard of a Mackay refusing money." + +The boy scowled at him. "There will be other things you have not heard +of," he said coldly. + +Blake French stared at him, and laughed again. + +"Well, give him a kiss, Faith. Maybe that's what he'd like. Or has he +had it?" + +"Cousin Blake, you're horrid!" the girl cried indignantly. + +"The kid isn't used to talk like that, Blake," Kathleen told him. "Have +some sense." + +"Where would he get it?" young Larry asked insolently. For answer his +brother cursed him. + +"Cut that out, Blake," Gerald drawled, but his tone was edged. + +"Then let that young pup keep a civil tongue in his head," Blake +growled. + +"Pup, hey?" said young Larry. "Well, I'll never make a yellow dog, +anyway." The insinuation was obvious. Blake's face blackened with fury, +but wheeling his horse he rode off after the girls. Gerald and Larry +with brief nods to young Mackay, followed. + +The latter stood looking after them, his heavy brows drawn in a frown. +Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he lengthened his stirrups and +swung up on his pony. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A DEATH BED + + +Deciding that it was too late to go back after the deer, Angus headed +for home. The sun was down when he struck into a wagon trail a couple of +miles from the ranch, and he had followed it but a few hundred yards +when he heard the sound of hoofs behind him. Turning in his saddle he +recognized horse and rider which were overhauling him rapidly. + +"What's the rush, Dave?" he asked as they drew level. + +Whatever the rush had been it seemed to be over. The rider slowed to a +walk. He was a small man, apparently in the forties, wiry and sun-dried. +His name was Rennie, and he was nominally a homesteader, though he did +little more than comply with the statutory requirements. In winter he +trapped and in summer he turned his hand to almost anything. He was a +wizard with horses, he knew the habits of most wild animals thoroughly +and he had seen a great deal of the old West. He and young Mackay were +friends, and he had taught the boy many things from his own store of +experience. As he pulled up, the boy noted that Blaze's bright coat was +dark with sweat and that his head hung wearily. + +"You've been combing some speed out of that cayuse," he commented. + +"He's been on grass and lathers easy," Rennie returned. "But I was--I +was sorter lookin' for you, kid." + +"Why?" + +"Well, you see--your daddy he wants you." + +"He knew I was hunting. I got a two-year old buck, but it was too late +to pack him in. What does he want me for?" + +The question seemed to embarrass Rennie exceedingly. He gulped and went +into a fit of coughing which left him red in the face. + +"He wants to talk to you," he replied at last. "He--he wants to tell you +something, I guess. He--he ain't right well, your daddy ain't." + +"Not well!" the boy cried in amazement. "Why, what's the matter with +him, Dave?" + +"A little accident--just a little accident, kid. He--he--now you don't +want to go worryin' about it; not yet, anyway." + +But Rennie's effort to break bad news gently was too obvious. The boy's +voice took on a sharp note of alarm. + +"What sort of an accident?" he demanded. "Is he hurt? Talk up, can't +you?" + +"Well, now, durn it, kid, I'd ruther break a leg than tell you--but your +daddy, he's been shot up some." + +"Do you mean he's dead?" the boy cried in wide-eyed horror. + +"No, he ain't dead--or he wasn't when I started out to find you. +But--but he's plugged plumb center, and--and--Oh, hell, I guess you +know what I'm tryin' to say!" + +The boy stared at him dumbly while the slow thudding pad of the horses' +feet on the soft trail smote on his ears like the sound of muffled +drums. He failed at first, as the young must ever fail, to comprehend +the full meaning of the message. His father dead or dying! His father, +Adam Mackay, that living tower of muscle and sinew who could lift with +his hands logs with which other men struggled with cant-hook and peavie, +who could throw a steel-beamed breaking plow aboard a wagon as another +man would handle a wheel-hoe? It was unbelievable. + +But slowly the realization was forced upon him. His father had been +shot, and with the knowledge came the flame of bitter anger and desire +for revenge that was his in right of the blood in his veins. And the +desire momentarily overwhelmed sorrow. + +"Who did it?" he asked, his young voice a fierce, croaking whisper. + +"I dunno. He won't tell anybody. Maybe he'll tell you." + +"Come on!" Angus Mackay cried, and dug heels into his pony. + +The pony was blown and gasping as they rode up to the ranch and Angus +leaped from his back. Rennie's hand fell on his shoulder. + +"Kid," he said earnestly, "you want to brace up and keep braced. If it's +a show-down for your daddy he'll like to know you're takin' it like a +man. Then there's Jean and Turkey. This here happens to everybody, and +while it's tough it's a part of the game. And just one more thing: If +you find out who done the shootin', let me know!" + +The boy nodded, because he could not trust himself to speak, and ran +into the house. It was hushed in the twilight. Already it seemed to hold +a little of the strange stillness which comes with the departure of a +familiar presence. As the boy paused, from a corner came a little, +sniffling sob, and in the semi-darkness he saw his young brother, +Torquil, curled miserably upon a skin-covered couch. Paying no attention +to him he crossed the living room and as he did so his sister Jean +entered. In some mysterious way she seemed years older than the +girl-child who had come running after him in the gray mists of that +morning. Dry-eyed, slender, quiet-moving, like the shadow of a girl in +the gloom, she led him back and closed the door. He obeyed her touch +without question, without a trace of his superiority of the morning. In +face of sickness and death, like most of his sex he felt helpless, +impotent. He put his long arm around his sister and suddenly she clung +to him, her slender body shaking. + +"He's not--dead--Jean?" + +"Not--not yet, Angus. Dr. Wilkes is with him now. He says he won't live +long. He didn't want to tell me, but I made him." + +She told him all she knew. Adam Mackay had ridden away by himself that +morning, no one knew whither. In the afternoon he had come home swaying +in his saddle, shot through the body. Then young Turkey has climbed into +the blood-soaked saddle and ridden for the doctor. As to how he had met +with his hurt Adam Mackay had said no word. + +The inner door opened to admit a burly, thick-bodied man with reddish +hair sprinkled with gray and grizzled, bushy eyebrows. This was Dr. +Wilkes. He nodded to Angus. + +"You're in time. Your father wants you. Go to him, and call me if +anything happens." + +"He's going to--going to--" + +The boy was unable to complete the sentence. The doctor put his arm +over his shoulder for a moment in a kindly, elder-brotherly touch. + +"I'm afraid so, my boy. In fact, I know so. Keep a stiff upper lip, old +man. He'll like that." + +Adam Mackay stared at his eldest son hungrily from the pillows. Above +his great black beard his face was gray. He was a great frame of a man, +long, lean and sinewy. The likeness of father and son was marked. He +held out his hand feebly and the boy took it and choked. Then Adam +Mackay spoke in a little whisper so unlike his usual deep voice that the +boy was startled, and because it was near the end with him his words +carried the sharp twist and hiss of the Gaelic which was the tongue of +his youth; for though Adam Mackay had never seen Scotland, he had been +born in a settlement which, fifty years before, was more Gaelic than the +Highlands themselves. + +"It cannot be helped, son, and it is little I care for myself. When you +come to face death, many years from now, please the God, you'll find it +no' sic' a fearful thing. But it is you and the children that worries me +now, Angus." + +"Never mind us, father," the boy said. "I can look after Jean and +Turkey." + +The stricken giant smiled at him with a quiet pride of which the +recollection years after warmed the boy's heart. + +"I had hoped for twenty years of life yet, by which time you would have +been settled, with children of your own. Eh, well, the young birds must +fledge and fly alone, and your wings are well sprouted, Angus-lad. You +have in you the makings of a man, though yet headstrong and dour by +nature. And now listen, son, for my time is short: I look to you to +take the place I can no longer fill. You are the Mackay, the head of the +family. Remember that, and cease before your time to be a boy." + +"I will, father," the boy promised. + +"There is little or no money, worse luck," the man went on. "All I have +had I have put into land and timber, and the fire burnt the timber: But +in time the land will make you rich, though not yet awhile, maybe. But +till it does, the ranch will give you a living. Sell nothing now--not an +acre. Promise me, boy!" + +"I promise, father," the boy replied. + +"A promise to a dying father is an oath," the man went on. "But no +Mackay of our Mackays ever broke his word passed for good or ill. +Remember that, too. I have made a will, and all I have is left to you as +the eldest son. That has ever been our custom. When the time comes, and +they are older, deal generously with your sister and brother. That is +our custom, too. Of this will, the man Braden is named as executor. I +had intended--but it is too late now. He is a man of business and has +the name of an upright man. But if you need advice, son, go to Judge +Riley, drunkard and all as he is. But for that he should have been in +Braden's place. That is all, I think. I feel more content now." And he +closed his eyes with a sigh. + +"I will remember, father," the boy said. "But who did this? Who shot +you?" + +The eyes opened and searched his deeply for many seconds. + +"Why do you want to know?" + +"I ought to know," the boy replied. + +"You want to know," his father said, "so that if the law should fail, +you would take the old law of the old days into your young hands. Is +that it, my son?" + +"Yes," the boy admitted, "that is it. And why for no, father?" + +For a moment the graying face of the dying man lighted with a swift +gleam of pride and satisfaction. Then he lifted his great hand feebly. + +"You have bred true, lad. Ever were the Mackays good haters, bitter of +heart and heavy of hand. So I have been all my days, and no man did me +wrong that I did not repay it. But listen, son o' mine: Lying here with +my man's strength gone from me and the shadows on my soul I see more +clearly, as clearly as old Murdoch McGillivray, who is dead, and as you +know had the gift while he lived. And I tell you now that hate and +revenge are the things worth least in life; and, moreover, that the +things worth most in life and much more in death, are love, and work +well done, and a heart clean of bitterness. And so I will tell you +nothing at all." + +"Please, father!" the boy pleaded, for as his father had said he had +bred true. + +"No and no, I tell you, no!" Adam Mackay refused. "No killing will bring +me back. I will not lay a feud upon you. Blood and blood, and yet more +blood I have seen come of such things. I know you, Angus, bone o' my +bone and flesh o' my flesh as I know my own youth, and of the knowledge +in that one thing I will not trust you. I die, and that is the end of +it, for me and for all of me. Your duty is to the living. And now call +you Jean and Torquil, that I may bid them farewell. And take you my +blessing such as it is; for I feel the darkness closing upon me." + +An hour later Adam Mackay was dead. And that day was the last of Angus +Mackay's careless boyhood. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +ANGUS ASSERTS HIMSELF + + +Though the death of Adam Mackay made a great local sensation, its cause +remained unexplained. Apparently he had been unarmed, and so it seemed +plain murder. But on the other hand his strange silence was puzzling. He +had been on good terms with most of his neighbors, or at least not on +very bad terms with anybody, save a couple of Indians whom he had caught +stealing and handled roughly. But these Indians had a perfectly good +alibi. There was no clew, no starting point. Nobody knew even which way +Mackay had ridden on the day of his death. And so after a while it was +classed with those mysteries which may be solved by time, but not +otherwise. + +Meanwhile, young Angus took up the burden of his responsibilities. So +far as he knew he had no near relatives, and search of his father's +papers confirmed this. He was rather relieved than otherwise. He found +his father's will, and struggling with its verbiage, set it aside to +await the return of the executor Isaac J. Braden, who was absent on a +business trip. + +Braden was known to Angus by sight and by reputation. He lived in +Mowbray, the nearest town, which was some sixteen miles from the ranch, +where he was the big frog in its little puddle. He had a good many irons +in the fire. He ran a sort of private banking-loan-insurance business, +dealt in real estate, owned an interest in a store, dabbled in local +politics and was prominent in church matters. He was considered a very +able and trustworthy man. But young Angus, though he had very misty +notions of the functions of an executor, had a very clear and definite +conviction that it was up to him to run the ranch and look after his +sister and brother. That was his personal job. And so he took stock of +the situation. + +Adam Mackay had owned in all a block of nearly two thousand acres. Of +this about three hundred was cultivated or in pasture. The whole block +was good, very level, with ample water for irrigation. On the range was +nearly a hundred head of cattle. There were horses in plenty--a couple +of work team, a team of drivers, and each young Mackay had a saddle +pony. The buildings were good, and the wagons, sleighs, tools and +machinery in excellent condition. The ranch was a going concern, +apparently in good shape. None the less it was a hard proposition for a +youngster to handle. It was like putting a cabin boy on the bridge to +navigate the ship. + +Having been brought up on a ranch, he knew quite well how most work +should be done, and he had acquired by absorption rather than by +conscious thought a good deal of theory. But Adam Mackay had himself +done rather more than half the work. He had had but one steady hired +man, Gus Gustafson, a huge Scandinavian who was a splendid worker when +told what to do, but who had no head whatever. As Angus could not do the +work his father had done he had to obtain additional help, and so he +made a proposition to Dave Rennie. + +Rennie was not much of a farmer, but he came to the ranch temporarily at +first out of his friendship for Angus, and remained. + +On a certain Saturday afternoon Angus and Dave Rennie, engaged in +hanging a new gate, saw a two-seated rig with three men approaching. +Rennie peered at them. + +"There's Braden," he said. "I heard he'd got back." + +"And that's Nick Garland driving," Angus observed. "Who's the other +fellow?" + +"Stranger to me. Garland, huh! I never had much use for that sport." + +Garland was a young man whose business, so far as he had any, was +dealing in cattle. Uncharitable persons said that he dealt more poker. +He was a good-looking chap, after a fashion, who affected cowboy garb, +rode a good horse, was locally known and considered himself a devil +among the girls, and generally tried to live up to the reputation of a +dead-game sport. + +The third man, whom neither Angus nor Dave recognized, was a +nondescript, sandy individual with drooping shoulders, a drooping nose +above a drooping moustache which but partially concealed a drooping +mouth. On the whole, both Garland and this stranger seemed uncongenial +companions for Mr. Braden. + +That celebrity grunted as he climbed down. He was a fleshy man of middle +age, clean shaven, carefully dressed, with small, somewhat fishy eyes. +He took Angus' brown, hardened paw in a soft, moist palm, putting his +left hand on his shoulder in a manner which he intended to be +sympathetic and protecting; but at which Angus squirmed inwardly and +grew rigid outwardly, for in common with normal boys he hated the touch +of a stranger. + +"And so," said Mr. Braden in a short-winded, throaty voice which held +an occasional curious pant like an old-time camp meeting exhorter, "and +so this is Angus! It is a matter of great regret to me, my boy, that I +was absent at the time of your bereavement. You and your young sister +and your young brother have my heartfelt sympathy in this your time of +tribulation--huh. Your father was a very dear friend of mine, a man in a +thousand, one of nature's noblemen. 'We ne'er shall look upon his like +again,' as the poet truly remarks. However, there is no use crying +over--that is, the Lord giveth and taketh away--huh, as you have been +taught, no doubt. As executor of your father's will my dear boy, I +regard myself as in loco parentis, and I hope you will regard me in that +way, too." + +He beamed most benevolently, but Angus was unimpressed. Mr. Braden, if +he had only known it, could not have made a worse start. A quiet word of +sympathy or a firm grip of the hand without words would have gone far. +As it was, he quite failed to inspire liking or confidence. + +They went to the house together, where Mr. Braden said much the same +thing over again to Jean, and patted her head. And young Turkey, +unwarily peeping through the door, was called in and addressed as "my +little man" and patted also; which attentions he acknowledged with a +fierce scowl and a muttered word, which fortunately Mr. Braden did not +hear. + +But these preliminaries over, Mr. Braden got down to business at once. +In a few brief but pointed questions he found out all there was to know +about the ranch and the stock, and he skimmed through such papers as +Angus produced, with a practised eye. + +"H'm, yes, yes," he said. "Now I think I understand the situation. I +have given the future of you young people the most careful +consideration, because it is for the future that you must now prepare. +Youth is the time of preparation. It is the building time. As we sow in +youth, so we reap in age--huh. Then let us ask what to-day is the great +essential of success? There is but one answer--education. And so it +follows that you young people must receive the best education that your +father's estate can give you; and as Art is long and Time fleeting, as +the poet truly remarks, you young people must enter upon the path of +learning at once." + +The young people said nothing. The flow of words bewildered them. Mr. +Braden then got down to brass tacks: + +"I will make the necessary arrangements right away," he said. "We will +rent the ranch and sell off some of the stock, and the money will be +used in sending you all to some good school which will fit you for +success in life." + +This was definite, concrete, different from generalities. Angus stared +at the executor. + +"Rent the ranch!" he exclaimed. "I guess not. I'm going to run it +myself." + +Mr. Braden smiled tolerantly. "Your spirit is very creditable, my boy, +but you are too young and inexperienced." + +"I'm running it now," Angus told him, "and I'm going to keep on. I won't +stand for having it rented." + +"At your age, my boy, you don't know what is best for you. You must +allow me to be the judge." + +Youth is hot-headed, and the tongue of youth unruly. + +"I will not stand for having the ranch rented," Angus repeated. "I am +going to stay here and work it, and that's all there is to it." + +Mr. Braden frowned at this brusque ultimatum. "I have already made +arrangements with Mr. Poole, here, to take it over." + +Angus looked at the drooping Mr. Poole and decided that he did not like +him. + +"I don't care what you have made," he said bluntly. "Renters rip the +heart out of a ranch. They take everything from the land and put nothing +back; and when they have worked it out they quit. That's not going to +happen here, if I know it." + +"You don't know what you're talking about," Mr. Poole observed. + +"I think I know more about ranching than you do," Angus retorted. + +"I was ranching before you was born," Mr. Poole told him loftily. + +"Then why haven't you got a ranch of your own, instead of hoboing it +around, renting places?" Angus demanded. + +Mr. Poole reddened and scowled. "I had a blame sight better ranch than +this, but I sold it," he said. + +"By your looks I think the sheriff helped you," Angus said. "You look to +me like a man that is too lazy to turn over in bed, like a man that +would sleep in winter and never hear his stock bawling for feed. You +will never have this ranch. If you try to come on it--" + +"Angus," Mr. Braden broke in with dignified severity, "you are +forgetting yourself. You must not talk in that way to your elders." + +But by this time young Mackay's temper, which had been gradually +rising, was beyond being damped off by a stern voice and dignified +manner. + +"I will say what I think," he declared, "to this man Poole, or to you, +or to anybody else, and I will back up what I say the best way I can. +You come here and talk about renting the ranch and selling stock as if I +had nothing to say about it. I tell you, now, it doesn't go. I am +staying here, and so are Jean and Turkey. If you try to put us off, or +put this Poole or anybody else on, there will be trouble you can scoop +up in a bucket." + +Garland chose that moment to laugh. Angus turned on him with a scowl. He +was like a young dog cornered by older ones, nervous, snarling, but +quite ready to fight for his bone. He looked Garland in the eye. + +"And that goes for you too," he said. "You will buy nothing with the MK +brand from anybody but me. You try to take a single head of my stock off +the range, and you'll do it in the smoke, do you savvy that?" + +Garland laughed again, but there was a note of uneasiness in it, for +next to the real "bad man," cold, experienced and deadly, comes the boy, +who, bred in the traditions of the old West, has the recklessness and +hot passions of extreme youth. The history of the West teems with +examples. + +"You're making a fool of yourself, kid," he said. + +Here Dave Rennie broke the silence which had enwrapped him. + +"Oh, I dunno," he observed. + +"What have you got to say about it?" Garland demanded. + +"I ain't said much so far," Rennie pointed out, "and I ain't goin' to. +Only this: Don't nobody overplay his hand in this game--nobody at all." + +"Who are you?" asked Mr. Braden. + +"Me? Dave Rennie. I'm workin' for the kid." + +"Then," said Mr. Braden, "I fail to see what interest you have in the +matter, my friend." + +"I get in this way," said Dave. "I'm a friend of the kid's, as well as a +hired man. You can take what you like out of that." + +Whatever Mr. Braden took out of it he did not immediately speak, but +drummed with his fingers on the table. + +"One of my rules of life," he said, "is to get along without friction; I +trust I am a reasonable man. When I find that my views conflict with +those of others, I weigh both carefully. They may be right and I may be +wrong. We must have no friction at the outset, Angus, and I think that +you have misunderstood me. As you object to renting the ranch I am going +to give you an opportunity to think it over, and I am going to think it +over myself. Then we will have another talk. Naturally, I must do what +is best for the estate, but I wish to meet your wishes as far as +possible. My sole desire is to do my best for all of you. No +friction--no, no. We do not want friction, do we, my boy?" + +"I do not want trouble at all," Angus said. "All I want is to run the +ranch, and that is what I am going to do." + +"Yes, yes, I understand," Mr. Braden returned. "Well, do so for the +present, my boy. Then we will talk it over again." + +"There is no use talking it over," Angus maintained. "I have made up my +mind." + +Mr. Braden looked as though he desired to express his opinion of this +boyish obstinacy, but changing his mind he smiled benevolently and +suggested a look around the ranch. Angus accompanied him, pointing out +what was needed and what he intended to do. The executor listened, +asking an occasional question, giving now and then a bit of advice. But +when he had driven away Angus was thoughtful. + +"You and him was gettin' to be some tillikums," Rennie observed. + +"He seemed all right while I was going around with him," Angus admitted. +"He wants to get that notion of renting out his head, though. I wonder +how it would be on a show-down, Dave? Do you suppose he could rent the +place, no matter whether I wanted to or not, or was he only running a +sandy?" + +"I dunno," Rennie admitted. "If I was you I'd go and have a talk with +old Judge Riley, like your daddy told you to do if anything come up. You +may catch him sober. Not," he added, "that the old boy ain't pretty wise +when he's drunk." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +JUDGE RILEY--DRUNK AND SOBER + + +"Judge" Riley had once been on the bench, but for some reason had +resigned and gone back to his profession, hanging out his shingle in +Mowbray. There was no doubt of his natural and professional ability, but +it was the inability to let liquor alone, even when business demanded +attention. Hence he had little of the latter. + +He was not sober when Angus entered his untidy little office. At Angus' +entrance he stared up with dull eyes from beneath a thick thatch of gray +hair which had fallen across his forehead like a horse's forelock. For a +moment he had difficulty in identifying his visitor, but succeeded. + +"Angus," he muttered, "sure, yes, Angus Mackay. Sit down, Angus. And how +is your father?" + +"My father is dead, Judge Riley," Angus reminded him. + +"Dead!" said the judge, "dead!" His voice altered at the repetition of +the word, and his eyes lost a little of their dullness. "Why, I knew +that," he muttered to himself, "I knew Mackay was dead. I--I beg your +pardon, Angus. Not--not exactly right just now. A little--a little touch +of something. All right, presently." + +"I'll come in again," Angus said. "I wanted to see you on business." + +"Bus'ness?" the judge queried. "Always 'tend to bus'ness. Not so much of +it now. State your bus'ness." + +Though he did not see much use in doing so in the judge's condition, +Angus told him what had happened and asked what powers the executor +possessed. + +"Exec'tor governed by will," the judge told him. "Never give 'pinion on +written instrument without seeing instrument." + +"You drew the will yourself, judge--at least it has your name on it." + +"Good will, then," said the judge, "perfec'ly good will." + +"There's nothing in it about renting the place." + +"Exec'tor's powers broad," said the judge. "Gen'ral law of trustees. +Governed by will, though. Princ'ples governing construction of will--" + +But just then the judge was in no condition to enunciate them. His voice +trailed off into a murmur and his head dropped. + +"I'll come in again," said Angus, "and pay for your advice. What do you +charge, judge?" + +"Charge!" muttered the judge lifting his head. "Charge, Chester, charge! +On, Stan--" + +"Your fee," Angus interrupted. + +"Oh, fee!" said the judge. "Yes, fee. Very proper. Fund'mental princ'ple +of law, never neglect fee. Fifty dollars!" + +"Fifty dollars!" Angus gasped. + +"Merely nom'nal fee," the judge murmured. "Avoid lit'gation, young man, +'void lit'gation!" And his head fell forward and he slept. + +Disappointed in obtaining legal advice from the judge, Angus left his +office. He was determined, however, to know where he stood, and two days +afterward he entered the judge's office again. This time the judge was +sober and busy. + +"Glad to see you, Angus," he greeted cheerfully, "sit down and have a +chat." + +Angus sat down and, taking fifty dollars in bills from his pocket, +handed the money across the desk. The judge did not take it. He frowned +at the tenderer. + +"What is this?" he demanded. + +"Your fee," Angus explained. + +"For what?" + +"For telling me what I want to know." + +"Indeed!" rasped the judge. "And how the devil do you know that I can or +will tell you what you want to know? And who gave you the authority to +fix my fee?" + +"You fixed it yourself," Angus reminded him. "When I was here two days +ago you told me your fee for advice was fifty dollars; and now I have +brought the money for the advice." + +A dull color rose in the old lawyer's cheeks. + +"You mean I was too drunk to give it," he said. "I remember that you +were here, but nothing about fifty dollars. Put it back in your pocket, +and tell me what you want to know." + +"But I want to pay for what I get." + +"Well, you won't," the judge snapped. + +"Why not?" + +"Because I regulate my own charges," the judge told him. "I've enjoyed +your father's hospitality and yours, and not a cent would you Mackays +ever accept for the time you lost, or for the hire of horses or their +feed, or mine. Damned proud Highland Scotch, that must always give and +never take! Put your money in your pocket, I tell you, and let me know +what's worrying you." + +So, seeing that he meant it, Angus put his money back and stated his +case. + +"H'm," said the judge. "So Braden wants to rent the ranch, does he, and +sell some stock. Under certain circumstances that might be expedient. An +executor's powers are broad enough, within certain limits, which you +probably wouldn't understand. But what do you want to do yourself? What +do you think is the best thing for you and your sister and brother?" + +"I want to stay on the ranch. I can make a living there. Jean and Turkey +are going to school now, and it will be some years before they are +through with it. Then it will be time enough to think of another +school." + +"How about yourself?" the judge queried. "You are at the age when you +should be laying the foundations of more education if you are to get it +at all." + +"I have thought of that," Angus replied, "and I do not think I have the +head for books, like Jean. I might spend years learning things that +might be well enough to know, perhaps, but of no real use to make a +living, which is what I have to do. And meanwhile the ranch would be run +down and the ground be worked out and dirty with weeds. And then there +is my promise to my father. I am taking his place as well as I can; and +that place is on the ranch." + +"I see," said the judge thoughtfully. "You may be right, my boy. Many a +good rancher has been spoilt to make a poor something else. The +professions are crowded with failures. But let's go back to the point: +Whether Braden has or has not the power to rent the ranch and sell +stock, is immaterial so long as it is not done. I will see him, and I +think I can explain the situation to him perhaps more clearly than you +can. How old are you?" + +"Eighteen," Angus replied. "I wish I was older." + +The judge looked at him and sighed. "Believe this," he said; "that when +you are older--much older--you will wish much more and just as vainly to +be eighteen. It's three years before you come of age. Even then--" He +broke off and for a moment was silent. "Angus, you are a close-mouthed +boy. If in the future you have any trouble with Braden, or if he or +anybody else makes you any proposition involving the ranch, will you +come to me with it?" + +"I'll be very glad to," Angus told him gratefully. + +"All right. And, Angus, I'm going to give you a word of advice, which +may sound strange from me. Never drink. Never start. Not only not now, +but five years hence, nor ten, nor thirty, nor forty." + +"I don't intend to," Angus said, in surprise. "I don't think I'd ever +drink much. There isn't anything in it, it seems to me." + +"You're wrong," the judge told him gravely. "You know nothing about it. +In youth there is pleasure in it, and good fellowship that warms the +heart, and bright eyes and soft lips--which you know nothing about +yet--and dreams of ambition and temporary equality with the gods; and +later in life there are the faces and voices of old friends, of men and +women dead before their time, and the golden past and golden youth leaps +and lives again, and the present is forgotten. And at last--Do you know +what there is at last, Angus?" + +"No, sir," said the boy with equal gravity. "What is there?" + +"Damnation!" the judge replied slowly. "Damnation, deep and living. The +damnation of those who knowing the better have chosen the worse; who +living the worse can yet see the better and the great gulf fixed +between. The hell of the hereafter--phutt!" And the judge snapped his +fingers. + +The boy stared at him wonderingly. The judge interpreted his thought. + +"The gulf is fixed, because the will, which is the only thing that can +bridge it, is the first thing to be destroyed. Where there is no will to +fight there is no fight. And you think, too, that this advice comes +strangely from me. But who can speak with greater authority--I, or the +man who never took a drink in his life?" + +"You, of course," Angus admitted. + +"Yes, I," said the judge. "And I tell you who are on the threshold of +manhood to let liquor alone; not because there is nothing in it, as you +say in your ignorance, but because there are most things--or the +semblance of most things--in it that the heart of man desires. Remember +not to prove these things. That's all I have to say on the subject. And +now clear out, for I am busy." + +But when Angus had gone the judge did not appear to be very busy. He +filled a disreputable old pipe with a somewhat shaky hand, and lighting +it passed into a period of reflection. At the end of it he put on his +hat and proceeded up the street to Mr. Braden's office. + +Mr. Braden, spick and span and freshly shaven, enjoying a very good +cigar, looked with surprise and some distaste at the rumpled, unpressed +clothes, unshaven cheeks and untidy hair of the old lawyer. He had +little or no use for him. + +"And what is it this morning, judge?" he asked. + +"Mackay estate," said the judge. + +Mr. Braden's eyes closed a little. + +"Yes, I know you drew Mackay's will," he admitted, "but Crosby and Parks +do all my business, and of course--" + +"Wrong foot," said the judge, "I'm not asking for any of your business, +Braden. Angus Mackay tells me you were speaking of renting the ranch, +and he wanted to know if you had the power to do it." + +"Of course I have," Mr. Braden asserted. "The boy--" + +"I told him," the judge went on, "that whether you had the power or not, +it was most unlikely that you would exercise it." + +"What do you know about it?" Mr. Braden demanded brusquely. + +"Not a great deal just yet; but enough to tell him that." + +"Well, that may be your personal opinion. I haven't made up my mind yet. +But if I consider it in the interests of the estate to rent the ranch to +a competent man I shall most certainly do so." + +"Poole a competent man?" the judge queried. + +"I believe so. What do you know about him?" + +"Not a great deal--yet," the judge returned again. "What makes you think +it would be best to rent the place--to a competent man?" + +"Under the circumstances I should think it would be obvious." + +"If it is obvious why isn't your mind made up?" + +"Look here," Mr. Braden snapped, "you aren't cross-examining me, Riley!" + +The judge smiled blandly, but somehow the smile reminded Mr. Braden of +the engaging facial expression of a scarred old Airedale. + +"Perhaps you'll explain the obvious, Braden." + +"I don't know why I should explain anything to you. I don't recognize +your right to ask me any questions whatever." + +"Pshaw!" said the judge. "Think a little, Braden." + +Whatever Mr. Braden thought he saw fit to adopt a different tone. + +"Just look at the situation from my standpoint," he said. "By their +father's untimely death these children are thrown on the world with no +ready money whatever. Their only source of income is the ranch, which +they are too young and inexperienced to make pay. The only sensible +thing to do is to put it into the hands of some competent man, so that +it will yield a steady income. Isn't that common sense?" + +"As you state it--yes," the judge admitted. + +"Ha, of course it is," said Mr. Braden triumphantly. "Then as to the +children themselves, I feel my responsibility. They must not be allowed +to grow up wild like--er--cayuses, as it were. They must have an +education to fit them for the Battle of Life, and as you know they can't +get that at a country school. The rental of the ranch, plus the proceeds +of a sale of some of the stock could not be better employed than in +sending them to some first-class institution. In these days education is +the right of every child. It is the key to Success, which, when +Opportunity knocks at the door--What the devil are you grinning at?" + +"Go on." + +"Well, that's all I was going to say," said Mr. Braden whose wings of +fancy had suddenly dragged before the old lawyer's cynical smile. "Rent +the place; get money; apply the money to educate the children. That's it +in a nutshell. Any court would approve such action of an executor." + +"Possibly--on an _ex parte_ application. But meantime who pays the +mortgage?" + +"Mortgage?" said Mr. Braden. + +"The mortgage Adam Mackay made to you on the ranch to obtain money to +enable him to buy timber limits which were subsequently fire-swept. +That's subsisting, isn't it?" + +"Certainly it is." There was a shade of defiance in Mr. Braden's tone. +"I hope I am not a harsh creditor. The interest might run along and all +the rental go toward educating the children." + +"Very creditable to your heart," said the judge. "But practically the +result would be that the interest would accumulate and compound, and +that when these young people had received the education which is the key +to Success the property would be saddled with a very heavy encumbrance, +more, in fact, than they might care to assume." + +"Well," snapped Mr. Braden, "what would you have me do? Insist on my +interest and rob these poor children of their chance of life?" + +"Very hard situation, isn't it?" said the judge blandly. "It is just as +well to look it in the face, though. If, some years hence, the children +couldn't pay off these mortgage arrears the property would have to be +sold. In fact you might be forced to buy it in to protect yourself." + +"Do you suggest--" + +"I don't suggest anything. Let us look at another angle of it. Suppose +the place is rented and a crop or two fails and the lessee proves +incompetent. Then the time comes when, to educate the children, the +property, or some of it, must be sold. Again you might be forced to buy +it in to protect yourself." + +"I don't want the ranch," Mr. Braden said. + +"No, of course not. But that is the situation. Now young Angus is a +well-grown boy. I think he can run the ranch fairly well. The other +children are going to a school which is good enough for their present +needs. Angus feels very strongly about the matter. In fact I think he +would ask me to oppose any endeavor to rent the place." + +"Are you threatening me with a lawsuit?" + +"Not at all. There can be no action unless there are grounds for one, +and of course a wise trustee walks very carefully. That's all I have to +say. Good morning, Braden." + +Mr. Braden from his window looked after the bulky, square-set figure of +the old lawyer as he made his way down the street. + +"You will, will you, you old bum!" he muttered. Then his gaze shifted to +a large map of the district which hung on the wall. For some minutes he +contemplated it, and then his pudgy finger tapped the exact spot which +represented the Mackay ranch. Then half aloud he uttered an eternal +truth. "There's sev'ral ways," said Mr. Braden, "of skinning a cat." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ANGUS IN LOVE AND WAR + + +The judge merely told Angus that if he could work the ranch properly it +would not be rented; and thus encouraged he buckled into the work. The +responsibility thrust on him changed his outlook even more than he +himself realized. + +Jean felt her responsibilities as much as he. She was fond of books, but +she grudged the time spent at school, and from before daylight till long +after dark she was as busy as a young hen with a brood of chicks. The +boys helped her with the hard tasks, and on the whole she got along very +well. + +But though Angus and Jean felt their responsibilities and endeavored to +live up to them, young Turkey did not. He was a curious combination, +with as many moods and shifts as an April day. By turns he was +headstrong and impulsive, and then coldly calculating. If he felt like +it, he would be industrious; but if not, he would be deliberately and +provokingly idle. In the days of Adam Mackay these qualities had been +not so apparent; but with the passing of his father he recognized no +authority and he resented bitterly the least suggestion of control. + +He would soon have gotten completely out of hand had Angus permitted it. +Matters came to a show-down one morning when Turkey, snug between his +blankets, delivered a flat ultimatum to his brother's command that he +get up and help pick potatoes. + +"You go plum!" said Turkey. "Saturday's a holiday, and I'm goin' +fishin'. Pick spuds yourself!" + +The next moment he was yanked out of his nest by the ankle and, fighting +like a young wildcat, was thrown on the floor. + +"Will you pick those spuds?" Angus demanded. + +"No!" Turkey shouted, and Angus whirled him over on his face and +reaching out acquired a leather slipper. + +"Get this straight," he said. "You'll pick spuds, or I'll lick you till +you do." + +"You lick me, and I'll kill you," roared Turkey, emphasizing the threat +with language gleaned from certain teamsters of his acquaintance, but +which was cut short by the slipper. + +"Will you come to work now?" Angus asked after a heated interval. + +"No!" yelled Turkey, sobbing more with rage than with pain, "no, I +won't, you big--" + +But again the slipper cut him short, and this time his brother put his +full strength into it. Finally, Turkey recognized the old-time doctrine +of force, and gave up. That day he picked potatoes with fair diligence, +and though he would not speak to Angus for a week, he did as he was +told. + +And so that Fall the young Mackays were very busy, and the threshing was +done, and the roots dug and got in, and some fall plowing, before the +frosts hardened the earth and the snow came to overlie it. + +With winter the work of the ranch lightened--or at least its hours +shortened. But still there was plenty to do. + +But there were the long evenings, when all the work was done, and supper +over and the lamps lit, and they sat by the big, airtight heater, and +Angus at least enjoyed the warmth the more because, well-fed and +comfortable himself, he knew that every head of his stock was also +full-bellied and contented in pen and stable and stall and shed, and the +wind might blow and the snow drift and not matter at all. + +A year passed uneventfully. The ranch paid its way, though Angus could +not meet the mortgage interest. In that year Angus had grown physically. +Adam Mackay had been a strong man, and his son was beginning to show his +breed, and the results of the good plain food and open air and hard +exercise which had been his all his life. + +He was yet lanky and apparently awkward, being big of bone, but long +ropes of muscle were beginning to come on his arms and thighs, and bands +and plasters of it lay on his shoulders and along his back and armored +ribs. He took pride in the strength that was coming upon him, rejoicing +in his ability to shoulder a sack of grain without effort, to lift and +set around the end of a wagon, to handle the big breaking plow at the +end of a furrow, and he was forever trying new things which called for +strength and activity. At nineteen he could, though he did not know it, +have taken the measure of any ordinary man. And about this time an +incident occurred which nearly turned out disastrously. + +Angus had delivered a load of potatoes at a hotel much frequented by +lumberjacks, and, seeking its proprietor, he entered the bar. A logging +camp had broken up, and its members, paid off, were celebrating in the +good old way. As Angus approached the bar he passed between two young +men. These, with one telepathic glance, suddenly administered to the +unsuspecting youth the rite known as the "Dutch flip." Although the +humor of the "flip" is usually more apparent to perpetrators and +onlookers than to the victim, Angus merely grinned as he found himself +on his feet again, and all would have been well if, in his involuntary +parabola, his feet aforesaid had not brushed a huge tie-maker. This +tie-maker was a Swede, "bad," with a reputation as a fighter and the +genial disposition of a bear infested with porcupine quills. Also he was +partly drunk. In this condition he chose to regard the involuntary +contact of Angus' heels as a personal affront. With a ripping blasphemy +he slapped the boy in the face, and as instantly as a reflex action +Angus lashed back with a blow clean and swift as the kick of a colt, and +nearly as powerful. + +The logger recovered from his surprise, and with a roar sprang and +caught him. Strong for a boy, Angus was as yet no match for such an +adversary. The weight of the man, apart from fighting experience, made +the issue undoubted. But suddenly the Swede was twisted, wrenched loose, +and sent staggering ten feet. Straight down the length of the room the +big tie-maker shot, landing with a terrific crash, and lay groaning. + +"Let the kid alone!" a deep voice commanded. + +Angus' rescuer was Gavin French, the eldest of the brothers. The largest +of a family of big men, Gavin stood three inches over six feet in his +stockings, and tapered from shoulders to heels. He was long of limb, +long of sinew, and so beautifully built that at first sight his real +bulk and weight were not apparent. His hair, reddish gold, was so wavy +that it almost curled, his eye a clear blue, but as hard as newly-cut +ice. He nodded to Angus. + +"All right, Mackay; I won't let him hurt you." + +Gavin French surveyed his handiwork with cold satisfaction. + +"Give the boys a drink," he said. And when the drink had been disposed +of he walked out without a second glance at his late adversary who was +sitting up. Angus followed him. + +"Thanks for handling him," he said. "He was too strong for me." + +The cold blue eyes rested on him appraisingly. + +"You'll be all right when you're older. Better keep out of trouble till +then." + +"He struck me," Angus said, "and no man will ever do that without +getting back the best I have, no matter how big he is. That was my +father's way." + +Gavin French made no reply. He nodded, and turning abruptly left Angus +alone. + +This episode, trivial in itself, gave Angus food for thought. For long +months the sight of the big Swede hurtling through the air was before +his eyes, and he admired and envied the mighty strength of Gavin French. +By contrast his own seemed puny, insignificant. He set himself +deliberately to increase it. + +The second fall after Adam Mackay's death the school which Jean and +Turkey attended had a new teacher. Jean fell in love with her from the +start, and even Turkey, who had regarded teachers as his natural +enemies, was inclined to make an exception. Jean brought this paragon to +the ranch over Sunday. Alice Page was a clear-eyed young woman of +twenty-four, brown of hair and eye as Jean herself, full of quiet fun, +but with a dignity which forbade familiarity. She was the first person +who had ever given Angus a handle to his name. This was at dinner, and +Turkey yelped joyously: + +"Ah, there, 'Mister' Mackay!" he cried. "A little more meat, 'Mister' +Mackay, and a dose of spuds and gravy, 'Mister' Mackay. I see you missed +some of the feathers by your left ear when you was shavin', 'Mister' +Mackay!" + +Having just begun the use of the razor, Angus reddened to the ear +aforesaid. Like most taciturn, reserved people he was keenly sensitive +to ridicule. + +"'Meester' Mackay! Haw-haw!" rumbled big Gus through a mouthful of food. +"He's shave hees viskers! Das ban purty good von. Ho-ho!" + +Dave Rennie grinned. Angus' black brows drew down, but just then he +choked on a crumb of bread which went the wrong way. + +"Pat 'Mister' Mackay on the back!" shrieked Turkey. + +"I'll pat you, young fellow!" Angus wheezed. + +But Alice Page saw how the land lay; saw also that the black-browed, +awkward boy was in danger of losing his temper. + +"Shall I call you 'Angus'?" she asked, and there was something in her +tone and friendly smile which calmed him. + +"That would be fine," he said. "And if you would lick Turkey Monday +morning it would be a great favor." + +A month afterward Alice Page came to live at the ranch. Her +companionship meant much to Jean. It meant more to Angus, who presently +suffered a severe attack of calf-love. + +Being in love, Angus began to suffer the pangs of jealousy, for there +were others who found Alice Page attractive. Chief among these was Nick +Garland, the young man who had accompanied Mr. Braden on his first +visit to the ranch. His visits became frequent, and he made himself very +much at home at the ranch, treating Angus with a careless superiority +and seniority which the latter found intensely irritating. + +Now Garland, who esteemed himself a devil of a fellow, was merely +attempting a flirtation with the pretty school teacher. He could not but +notice Angus' attitude toward himself, and in a flash of perception +divined the cause. He found it humorous, as no doubt it was. He did not +like Angus, which made it the more amusing. He intended to tell Alice +Page the joke, but in the meantime kept it to himself. + +He rode up one moonlight night while Angus was in the stable dressing by +the light of a lantern the leg of a horse which had calked himself, put +his mare in a stall and forked down hay as a matter of course. Angus, +after a short greeting, maintained silence. Then picking up his lantern, +he left the stable. Garland thought his chance had come. + +"They tell me you're going to school this winter," he observed. + +"No," Angus replied. + +"Mighty pretty teacher," Garland insinuated. "If I had the chance, I'd +sure go. I think I could learn a lot from her." + +"There would be lots of room," Angus retorted. + +"What!" Garland demanded, stopping short. + +"Ay," Angus said grimly, setting his lantern on the ground and facing +him. "You might learn to mind your own business." + +Garland peered at him in the moonlight. + +"I'm not used to talk like that, young fellow." + +"You need not take it unless you like," Angus said. + +Garland laughed contemptuously. "Sore, are you? This is the funniest +thing I ever came across. I'm on to you, kid. It's too good to keep. +I'll have to tell her." + +Angus scowled at him in silence for a moment. Then, deliberately, +bitterly, he gave him what is usually regarded as a perfectly good +_casus belli_. + +Garland began to realize that he had made a mistake. He had anticipated +fun, but found this serious. If he thrashed Angus he could not very well +continue to call at the ranch. Also, looking at the tall, raw-boned +youth confronting him, he had an uneasy feeling that he might have his +hands full if he tried. He had not realized till then how much the boy +had grown. At bottom Garland was slightly deficient in sand. And so he +tried to avert the break he had brought about. + +"That's no way to talk," he said. "You'll have to learn to take a joke, +some day." + +"Maybe," Angus retorted. "But I will never learn to take what you are +taking." + +Garland flushed angrily. The element of truth in the words stung. + +"I'd look well, beating up a boy," he said loftily. "I'm not going to +quarrel with you. When you're older maybe you'll have more sense." + +He left Angus, and marched away to the house. Angus looked after him +till the door closed, and then struck straight away across the bare +fields for the timber. + +These night rambles by moonlight were a habit which fitted well with his +nature. He was taciturn, reserved, with an infinite capacity, developed +by circumstance for solitude. But that night, as he covered mile after +mile with a swift, springy stride, his mood was as sinister as the black +shadows the great firs threw across his path. His naturally hard, bitter +temper, usually controlled, was in the ascendant. His long dislike of +Garland had come to a head. And yet there was Garland seated in his +house with Alice Page, while he was forced to walk in the night. It +amounted to that in his estimation. + +At last he turned back, in no better temper. It was late, and he was +sure that Garland had gone. But as he came to the road leading to the +house he saw figures black in the moonlight approaching. Just then he +was in no mood to meet any one. An irrigation ditch bordered by willows +paralleled the road. He jumped the ditch and, concealed by the willows, +waited till whoever it was should go by. + +It was Alice Page, and Garland, leading his horse. Opposite him they +halted. Snatches of conversation blurred by the gurgle of running water +came to his ears. Garland moved closer to her. Suddenly he caught her in +his arms. She strained back, pushing him away, but he kissed her, and at +that moment Angus leaped the ditch, landing beside them. The suddenness +of his appearance startled them. The horse snorted and pulled back. +Garland released Alice with an oath and turned to face the intruder. + +"It's you, is it?" he said angrily. + +"You had better get out of here," Angus told him, "and be quick about +it." + +But Garland, being angry, forgot his prudence. He was not going to be +ordered off by a boy, especially before Alice Page. + +"Be civil, you young fool!" he said. "I've taken enough from you +to-night." + +"Will you get on your horse and pull out?" Angus demanded between his +teeth. + +"When I get good and ready, and not before," Garland replied. + +Without another word Angus went for him. Garland was older, heavier and +presumably stronger, and furious as Angus was he felt that probably he +was in for a licking. But he went in hard, like a forlorn hope, and like +a forlorn hope he intended to do as much damage as he could. + +Garland tried to fend him off with a push, and failing, hit. But his +blow glanced from Angus' head and the latter slashed up under the ribs +with a vicious right hand, and was amazed at the depth his fist sank in +the body and the rasping gasp it brought forth. Angus' knowledge of +offensive and defensive was not great. But at school he had engaged in +various rough-and-tumble affairs and one winter a lithe young fellow +hired by the elder Mackay had shown him how to hold his hands. But these +things were quite forgotten for the moment. Like his claymore-wielding +ancestors, his one idea was to get to close quarters and settle the +matters there. He caught Garland around the middle and was gripped in +return. + +For a moment he thought Garland was not trying, was not doing his best; +and then, suddenly and joyfully, he realized that he _was_ doing it, and +that it was not good enough. He was stronger than Garland. He had the +back, and the legs, and the arms and the lungs of him, man though he +was. With the knowledge he snarled like a young wolf, and suddenly +strength swelled in him like the bore of a tide. He ran Garland back +half a dozen paces, and wrenched and twisted him. Getting his right +hand free he smashed him again under the ribs, and as Garland, gasping, +clinched, he locked his long arms around him, and with his shoulder +against the stomach, his legs propped and braced, and every muscle from +jaw to heel tautening, he squeezed him like a young python. + +Garland tried to hold the walls of his body against the grip, and +failed. Angus heard him pant, and felt the tremors of the man's frame as +the strength oozed out of him. Garland's grip weakened and loosened, and +he tried for Angus' throat and failed, for the boy's chin was tucked +home on his breast-bone, and he beat him over the back and head wildly +with his fists and caught at his arms; and then his head and body began +to go backward. + +Angus heard Alice Page's voice as from a great distance, for that locked +grip of his was like the blind one of a bulldog. + +"Angus! Angus! let him go!" + +And he plucked Garland from his footing easily, for the latter was now +little more than dead weight, and threw him on his back into the running +ditch. He stood above him, his chest heaving, like a young wolf above +his first kill. + +Garland splashed into the chilly water, and drew himself out of it +gasping and cursing with returning breath. Angus tapped him on the mouth +with the toe of his moccasin. + +"That is no talk for a woman to hear," he said. "Get out, or I'll throw +you back in the ditch." + +Garland got to his feet unsteadily, and went to his horse. + +"I'll fix you for this," he said as he got into the saddle. + +"You are a bluff," Angus told him, "and you know it as well as I do. Get +out!" + +When horse and rider were indistinct, Angus turned to Alice Page. + +"You saw him--kiss me, Angus?" she said. + +"Yes," he admitted, "but I didn't mean to. I had words with him +to-night, and I was waiting till you would go past, but you stopped +right in front of me." + +"I'm very glad you were there. I don't want you to think I am the sort +of girl who is kissed by moonlight." + +"I'd never think that," Angus said. "I think you are the finest girl in +the world." + +She stared at him in amazement, as much at his tone as at the words. + +"Why, Angus!" she exclaimed. + +"I do," he asseverated, "the very finest! I've wanted to tell you so, +but I hadn't the nerve. I--I think an awful lot of you." + +So there it was at last, blurted out with boyish clumsiness. + +"Good heavens!" cried Alice Page. "I never--why, Angus, my dear boy--" +She laughed and checked herself, and the laugh turned into a little +hysterical sob, and without any further warning she began to cry. + +Utterly dismayed Angus stood helpless. And then, because it always +seemed to comfort Jean when in trouble, he put his arm around her. For a +moment Alice Page leaned against him, just as Jean did, but somehow the +sensation was quite different. Very hesitatingly and awkwardly, but +doing it as well and carefully as he knew how, he kissed her. Whereupon +Alice Page jumped as if he had bitten her. + +"You, too!" she cried. "O Angus! Oh, good heavens, what a night! Let me +go, Angus!" + +He let her go, feeling all palpitant and vibrant, for he had never +kissed any girl, save Jean, who naturally did not count, but glad that +at any rate he had stopped her crying. And Alice Page, who had a large +store of common sense, did the very best thing possible. Sitting down on +the bank of the ditch she made him sit beside her, and talked to him so +gently and frankly that after a while, though he still considered +himself to be in love, he felt resigned to its hopelessness, and in fact +rather proud of his broken heart and blighted life, as boys are apt to +be. Indeed, with his knowledge that he had squared the account with +Garland, he was almost happy. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +GAIN AND LOSS + + +Alice Page was but an episode in the life of the Mackays, but her +influence was far-reaching, at least with Angus and Jean. She stimulated +in the former a taste for reading, dormant and unsuspected. She made him +see that he was wasting his evenings, and she got him books of history +and travel and voyages, with a sprinkling of the classics of English +fiction. Angus, who had been unaware that such books existed, took to +them like a young eagle to the air, for they opened the door to the +romances of the world. + +Though nobody save Alice Page suspected it, the grim-faced boy was full +of the romance of youth. At heart he was an adventurer, of the stuff of +which the old conquistadores were made. + +Jean needed no encouragement to study. Outwardly, Angus was hard and +practical. Outwardly, Jean was thoughtful and at times dreamy. Inwardly +the reverse was true. Jean was more practical than he, less inclined to +secret dreams. She intended to fit herself to teach, and her studies +were a means to that end. But most of Angus' reading, apart from +technical works, was the end itself. He was not conscious that it was +developing him, broadening his outlook, replacing to some extent more +intimate contact with the outer world of men and affairs. + +Thus time passed and another year slid around. Alice Page was gone, +teaching in a girls' residential small college on the coast. The ranch +was beginning to respond to the hard work. Stock on the range was +increasing in numbers and value. More settlers were coming in, and land +which had been a drug on the market was beginning to find purchasers. + +Angus had grown into a young man, tall and lean, quite unstiffened by +his hard work. Turkey was a youth, slimmer of build and smaller of bone +than his brother, but wiry and hard and catlike in quickness. Jean had +grown from a slip of a girl into a slender, brown-eyed maid. She was +through with the local school, and though she never hinted at it, Angus +knew quite well that she desired to attend the college where Alice Page +taught. It was characteristic of him that he said nothing until he could +speak definitely. But one night he told her she had better get ready to +go. Jean was startled. + +"How on earth did you know I was thinking of that?" + +"It didn't need the second sight of old Murdoch McGillivray," her +brother returned. "You had better get such things as you want." + +"But--can you afford it?" she asked doubtfully. + +"Yes. You write to Alice to-night." + +So in the early fall Jean went away, and her brothers missed her very +much; Turkey, because he had now to mend his own clothes and take a turn +at the cooking, and Angus because he had confided in her more than in +anybody else. + +When the fall grew late and the snow near, Rennie rode the range for +stock, which was usually split up into small bands, scattered here and +there in valleys and pockets along the base of the hills. Each bunch had +its own territory, from which it seldom strayed unless feed got short. +Therefore any given lot could usually be found by combing a few square +miles. Before the heavy snows these bunches were rounded up and driven +to the ranch to winter there. But this time Rennie could find no trace +at all of one bunch. + +"It's them three-year-old steers," he said, "that used in between Cat +Creek and the mountain. They sure ain't on the range." + +"They must have drifted off. Maybe the feed got short." + +"The feed's good yet--never saw it better this time of the year." + +"Likely they've gone up one of the big draws off the pass," Angus +suggested. + +"Well, I wish you'd tell me which. I've rode every draw for ten miles +each way, and durn' if I can find a hoof." + +This was serious. It was up to them to find those steers before the snow +came. Angus had no mind to see them come staggering in in mid-winter, +mere racks of bones; and apart from that he had counted on the proceeds +of their sale to pay Jean's expenses and some of the interest on +Braden's mortgage. Accordingly, he turned himself loose on the range +with Dave and Turkey. They spent the better part of a week in the saddle +and rode half a dozen ponies to a show-down, but of the missing stock +they found never a trace. + +"I'll bet somebody's rustled them," Turkey decided. + +"Bosh!" said Angus. + +"If you're such a darn' wise gazabo, why don't you find 'em?" Turkey +retorted. "What do you think, Dave?" + +"Don't know," said Rennie. "Blamed if it don't look like it." + +"Rustled--nothing!" Angus exclaimed contemptuously. "There aren't any +rustlers here." + +"There never was no rustlers no place till folks began to miss stock," +Rennie pointed out mildly. + +"But who would rustle them?" + +"Well, of course that's the thing to find out." + +It was a puzzle. Every steer wore the MK, and mistakes of ownership were +out of the question. From calfhood they had summered on that range, +coming in fat and frisky to winter by the generous stacks. There was no +good reason why they should have left it. Not only had the entire range +been combed carefully, but none of the other cattle owners had seen +them. + +"If they been rustled," Rennie decided, "it's good bettin' it's Injuns. +Some of the young Siwashes is plenty cultus." + +"What could they do with them? They couldn't range them with their own +stock." + +"No, but they could drive them south if they was careful about it, and +mix 'em up with the stock of them St. Onge Injuns, and nobody'd be apt +to notice. I've sent word to a feller down there to ride through and +take a look." + +In due course Rennie heard from the "feller." The steers were not on the +St. Onge reserve. Thus Angus was up against a blank wall. Nobody would +deal openly in stock plainly branded. Garland knew as much as anybody of +transactions in stock, but he had heard nothing which might give a clew +to the missing steers. + +With the passage of time Garland and Angus were on terms again, though +naturally there was little cordiality. But apparently Garland retained +no active ill-feeling. The occurrences of that night were known to +nobody but the three participants. As for Garland himself having had +anything to do with the steers, it seemed out of the question. He had +never been mixed up in any shady transactions, and apart from that, +handling stolen stock would be too risky for him. There were only a few +white men who were not above all suspicion; and these there was no +reason at all to suspect. But for that matter there was no more reason +to suspect any Indian. Rennie, however, had a species of logic all his +own. + +"No reason!" he grunted. "Why, you say yourself there ain't no reason to +suspect a white man. Then it's got to be an Injun, ain't it? Sure! On +gen'ral principles it's a cinch." + +But Angus did not hold with this view. Though he had no special +affection for Indians--as few people who know them have--in his opinion +they were no worse than other people in the matter of honesty. The older +men he would trust with anything. Some of them, especially the chief, a +venerable and foxy old buck named Paul Sam, had been friends of his +father. + +"I'll have a talk with old Paul Sam the first time I see him," he told +Rennie. "He's as straight as they make them." + +"Well, I guess he's the best of the bunch," Rennie admitted. + +A day or two afterward Angus met Paul Sam on the range, looking for +ponies. Though the Indian was old, he sat his paint pony as easily as a +young man. In his youth he must have been as straight and clean-cut as +a lance, and even the more than three score and ten snows which had +silvered his hair had bent his shoulders but little. He was accompanied +by his granddaughter, Mary, a girl of Jean's age, who, being his last +surviving relative, was as the apple of his eye. He had sent her to +mission school and denied her nothing. As he owned many horses and a +large band of cattle, Mary had luxuries unknown to most Indian girls. +She was unusually good-looking and a good deal spoiled, though Paul Sam, +being of the old school, cherished certain primitive ideas concerning +women. + +He listened in silence to Angus' statement regarding the missing stock, +surveying him with a shrewd old eye. + +"You think Injun kapswalla them moos-moos?" he asked with directness. + +"I didn't say anybody stole them. I'm just trying to find out what's +become of them." + +Paul Sam grunted. "All time white man lose moos-moos, lose kuitan, him +tumtum Injun steal um," he said. "All time blame Injun. Plenty cultus +Injun; plenty cultus white man, too." + +"That's true," Angus admitted. + +"You nanitch good for them moos-moos? Him all got brand?" + +"Yes." + +The old man reflected. "Spose man kapswalla um no sell um here," he +announced. "Drive um off--si-a-a-ah--then sell um." + +This was precisely Rennie's reasoning. + +"Where?" Angus queried. But on this point Paul Sam had no theory. Nobody +could tell, but some day it might be cleared up. + +"Well, if you hear anything of my steers, let me know," continued Angus. + +Paul Sam nodded. "Your father my tillikum," he said. "Him dam' good +skookum man. S'pose me hear, me tell you." + +But the young eyes of Mary had sighted ponies to the left. She announced +this to her grandfather in soft, clucking gutturals. + +"Goo'-by," said Paul Sam. + +"Good-by," said Angus. "Good-by, Mary." + +The girl nodded, with a flash of white teeth and a glance which dwelt +for an instant admiringly on Angus' long, lean body. Then she shook up +her fast pony and sailed away through the timber of the benchland to +round up the bunch of half-wild cayuses, while her grandfather followed +at a pace better suited to his years. + +But the fall went and the snow came, and Angus got no news. It was a +heavy loss just then, which he could not afford. Somehow it must be made +up, and the only way he saw to do it was to cut cordwood. The price was +low and the haul was long, but it was a case, for he had to have the +money. + +So all that winter he and Gus cut and split, while Rennie hauled and +Turkey looked after the house and the feeding. And so all through the +cold weather they made cordwood. It did not make up for the loss of the +steers, but it helped, and he was able to send money to Jean. + +The long winter passed. The days lengthened and the sun mounted higher, +so that it was warm on the south side of house and barn and stack. The +snow went in a glorious, booming Chinook wind that draped the ranges +with soft, scudding clouds, and set every gulch roaring with waters. +The ground thawed, and earth-smells struck the nostrils again. Up +against the washed blue of the sky flocks of geese bore their way +northward. One morning they heard the liquid notes of a meadow-lark. +Then came robins and bluebirds, and a new season opened with a rush. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FRENCHES AGAIN + + +That spring Angus kept three teams going steadily on plows and disks +while the high winds dried the soil to a powder, raising dust clouds +that choked and blinded, so that they came in black and gritty to a +shower bath of Angus' invention. He had accomplished this by a primitive +water wheel operated by the swift water of the irrigation ditch back of +the house. The water was always cold, and invigorated accordingly. But +it was icy in the morning. Rennie tried it once and gave it up, while +big Gus scornfully refused to experiment with a morning bath. + +"It'll brace you up," Turkey urged. + +"Vatter ent brace nobody," Gus replied with contempt. "Dees all-over +vash by mornin' ban no good. Ay ent need him. It ent make me dirty to +sleep." + +But the dust vanished with the spring rains, and the grain sprouted in +the drills. One day the fields lay bare and bald and blank; and the +next, as it seemed, they were covered with a film of tender green. Then +all hands began to clear and repair the irrigation ditches, so that when +dry weather came the fields should have water in plenty. + +So the early summer came and with it Jean's holidays. Her return, Angus +recognized, necessitated some preparation. + +"She'll have a fit when she sees the house," he told Turkey. + +"What's the matter with it?" that young man asked. + +"She'll find plenty the matter with it," Angus predicted apprehensively. +"We'd better clean up a little." + +"Well, maybe we had," Turkey admitted. + +They gave the house what they considered a thorough cleaning, which +consisted in sweeping where it seemed necessary, and removing some of +the pot-black from kitchen utensils which Jean had never set down on the +fire. Angus eyed the rusty-red kitchen range, which Jean had kept black +and shining. + +"I wonder if we hadn't better give that a touch of polish," he said. +"Where is the polish, anyway?" + +"Search me," Turkey replied. "I've never seen any. What's the use? It +cooks all right." + +They could not find Jean's polish, and experimented with black harness +dressing. But the smoke when the fire was lit drove them out of the +house, and they let it go. + +Angus drove into town to meet Jean behind a pair of slashing, +upstanding, bright-bay three-year-olds, of which he was very proud. Jean +had never seen them in harness--indeed they had been harnessed less than +a dozen times--and he anticipated her pleasure in them, for she loved +horses. He put up and fed the colts at the livery stable, had his +dinner, made some purchases, and as it was nearly time for the river +steamer on which Jean would arrive, turned toward the stable to hitch +up. + +As he turned a corner he met Garland, Blake French, and several other +young men. Apparently they were out on a time, for none of them were +entirely steady upon their legs. Blake French, however, was much the +worst. + +In the years that had passed the French family had not changed their +habits. The ranch was still a hang-out for every waster in the country. +But the young men were away a great deal in the summer and fall, +following the various local races. They had two or three good horses, +and seemed to find the sport profitable. Also they had achieved a rather +unenviable notoriety. They had all been mixed up more or less in various +rows, but somehow these matters had been hushed up. Nobody desired to +incur the enmity of a family which was supposed to have money, and one +way and another a good deal of influence. + +Angus would have passed, but Garland stopped him, asking him to come and +have a drink. Angus refused civilly, and Blake sneered. + +"It won't cost you anything," he said thickly. + +"I don't drink," Angus said shortly. + +"Do you do anything?" Blake sneered. "Do you have any fun at all?" + +"What I have is my own business," Angus returned, his temper beginning +to ruffle. + +Blake French, his brow lowering, caught him by the lapel of the coat. +"Are you telling me to mind my own business?" he demanded. + +"That will be plenty of that sort of thing," Angus told him. "Let go, +now, and don't pull me about." + +But Blake, being surly and quarrelsome even when sober, gave the lapel a +savage jerk, and reached out with his other hand. Angus caught his +wrist, and brought a stiffened forearm across his throat. At the same +moment he stepped forward, crooked his right leg behind Blake's left +knee and threw his full weight against him. Blake went down hard, but +was up in an instant and made a staggering rush. Angus dodged. + +"Take care of him, you!" he said to Garland. "I don't want to hit him." + +Blake's friends closed in on him, and Angus made his escape. He was glad +to get clear so easily, for he had no mind to be mixed up in a fight on +the street. He hooked up the colts and drove down to the landing, +hearing as he did so the deep bellow of the river steamer's whistle. +When he got the colts tied and went out on the wharf the boat had +already docked. Behind a group of passengers a girl was bending over a +couple of grips. Her back was toward Angus, and never doubting that it +was Jean, he reached down with one hand for a grip, while he slipped his +other arm around her waist. + +"Hello, old girl!" he said. But to his utter amazement, as she snapped +erect in the crook of his arm, it was not Jean at all. This girl was +taller, black of hair and blue of eye. For a moment he did not recognize +her, and then he knew her for Kathleen French, whom he had not seen for +more than a year. "Oh," he said blankly, "it's you!" + +"I think so," she said dryly. "I can stand without being held, thanks." + +Angus dropped his arm from her waist, blushing. + +"I thought you were Jean. I'm awfully sorry." + +Kathleen French's dark blue eyes looked him up and down, and to his +relief she seemed more amused than angry. + +"But your sister wasn't on the boat. It's nice to be welcomed by +somebody." She frowned, glancing down the wharf. "Have you seen any of +my brothers? Somebody should be here to meet me." + +"Blake is in town. I haven't seen any of the other boys." + +"Then why isn't Blake here?" she demanded. + +"I don't know," Angus returned. "It's not my fault, is it?" + +"No, of course not. He was to be here--or somebody was--and drive me +out. I suppose I'll have to go somewhere and wait his pleasure. Where is +he, do you know?" + +"Why--" Angus began doubtfully, and stopped. + +"Look here," said Kathleen French, "has Blake been drinking?" + +"I think he could drive all right." + +"Pig! Brute!" Blake's sister ejaculated viciously. "He couldn't keep +sober, even to meet me. Didn't think I mattered, I suppose. I'll show +him. Able to drive, is he? Well, he isn't able to drive me. I'll get a +livery rig." + +"I will drive you out." + +"That's good of you. But it's out of your way." + +"It will do the colts good--take the edge off them. But I don't know +what to do about Jean. She was to have come on this boat." + +"She must have missed it. Likely she will be on the next." + +This seemed probable. As there was nothing to be done about it, Angus +went for Kathleen's trunk. He wheeled it on a truck to the rig, picked +it up and deposited it in the wagon back of the seat without apparent +effort. As the trunk went up Kathleen French's eyes widened a little. He +turned to her. + +"The step is broken and if you climb in the mud will get on your dress," +he said. "I had better lift you over the wheel, if you don't mind." + +"Of course I don't mind." + +He lifted her up as one holds a child aloft to see a passing parade, +until her feet set on top of the wheel. As she seated herself she +glanced at him with a queer expression of puzzlement. He unhitched the +colts, gathered up the lines and came up over the wheel beside her. As +he dropped into the seat the team got away with a plunge and they went +townward with slack tugs, the reins and Angus' arms pulling the load. + +"They're a little frisky," he said. "They'll be all right when they get +out of town." + +"You don't think I'm afraid, do you?" she said. + +"No, I guess you are not nervous of horses." + +Angus hoped they would see nothing of Blake. But as they clattered up +the main street, the colts dancing and fighting the bits and Angus +holding them with a double wrap and talking to them steadily to quiet +them, Blake and his companions were crossing from one side to the other. +He recognized Angus and his sister, and probably remembered that he was +to meet her. With the memory of his recent encounter surging in his +fogged brain he lurched out into the roadway and called on Angus to +stop; and as the latter did not do so, he made an unsteady rush for the +colts' heads. + +Just then Angus could not have stopped the colts if he had wished to, +and he did not wish it. He knew that if Blake got hold of them it meant +a wrangle on the street, and so he loosed a wrap and clicked a sharp +command. The colts went into their collars with a bound. + +As they did so Kathleen French reached swiftly across and plucked the +whip from its socket on the dash. Angus had time for just one glance. +The nigh forewheel was just grazing Blake, so that he jumped back. His +flushed, scowling face was upturned, his mouth open in imprecation. Then +with a vicious swish and crack the lash of the blacksnake curled down +over his head and shoulders, and he went out of sight. + +Angus was too fully occupied with the colts to look back. They missed a +wagon and a buggy by inches merely, and were a mile out of town before +he was able to pull them down to an ordinary gait; and he was in no +sweet temper at them, at Blake, and even at Blake's sister; for that +young lady's swishing cut with the whip had put the finishing touch to +the colts' nerves. + +Kathleen herself had not uttered a word, nor had she grasped the seat +rail, even when in danger of collision. Now she sat upright, an angry +color in her cheeks, her mouth set in a straight line, and the whip +still in her hand. She met Angus' eyes with a defiant stare. + +"Well?" she said. + +"I didn't say anything." + +"You're thinking a lot, though." + +"Am I?" + +"Yes, you are! And don't you say a word of it to me. I can't stand it." + +"I am not going to say anything," Angus told her, and stared ahead over +the colts' ears, in which companionable fashion they drove for nearly +two miles. Then he felt her hand on his arm. + +"I'm sorry, Angus. I was utterly rude. Let it go, won't you?" + +"Of course," he assented. "I wasn't any too polite myself. The team +nearly got away from me." + +"And then you think I shouldn't have taken the whip to Blake." + +"You might have taken an ax to him for all I'd care," Angus admitted. + +"Hello!" she said. "Have you had any trouble with Blake?" + +"No real trouble." He told her what had occurred. + +"Well, I'm glad I used the whip," she commented. "He won't be proud of +it--before his friends. Wait till I see the boys! A nice lot, sending +Blake--Blake!--to meet me." Her teeth clicked over the words. "I +suppose," she went on bitterly after a pause, "there's a black sheep in +every family. But in some families--What do you think of our family?" + +Angus stared at her. He had never thought much about the Frenches, who +were outside his orbit. Being young, one side of him had at times envied +their easy life; but another side of him held for them the grim, bitter +scorn of the worker for the idler and waster. These things, however, +were far below the surface. + +"I don't know your family very well," he said. + +She did not press the question. + +"That is so. Angus--I hope you don't mind being called that, any more +than I mind being called by my first name--we've known each other for +years, but not very well. Perhaps we'll know each other better. I'm home +for good. I'm supposed to be a young lady, now." + +"Are you?" said Angus. She laughed. + +"My education--polite and otherwise--is finished. That is what I mean. I +am now prepared to settle down to the serious business of life--of a +young woman's life." + +"And what is that?" + +"If you don't know I won't tell you. Never mind about me. Tell me about +yourself." + +"Myself? Oh, I've just been living on the ranch." + +She considered him gravely, and he stared back. Whatever she saw, he +found her decidedly good to look upon, not only because of her eyes and +hair and clear, satiny skin, but because of the lithe, clean-run shape +of her, which he admired as he would that of a horse, or an athlete's in +training. She broke the silence abruptly. + +"Do you know what my trunk weighs?" + +He glanced back at it, shaking his head. "No. It's riding all right +there." + +"Do you know what I weigh?" + +"Perhaps a hundred and thirty." + +"Ten pounds more. And the trunk weighs more than two hundred." + +"Well, what about it?" Angus asked, puzzled. + +"What about it? Are you in the habit of picking up trunks like that as +if they were meat platters, and girls as if they were babies? I was +watching you, and you didn't even breathe hard." + +"Oh, is that it?" Angus laughed. "That's nothing. Any of your brothers +could handle that trunk." + +"Gavin could, of course. But he's very strong." + +"Well?" said Angus, smiling at her. + +"Why, yes, you must be. But I've always thought of you as a boy. And I +suppose you've thought of me as a gawky, long-legged girl." + +"I haven't thought of you at all," Angus told her. + +"Now I know I'm going to like you," she laughed. "I don't know a +man--except my brothers, who of course don't count--who would have told +me that." + +Angus flushed, but stuck to his guns. + +"Well, why should I think of you?" + +"No reason. You don't know much about girls, do you?" + +"Not a thing. I have had no time for them." + +"And no use for them!" + +"I did not say that." + +"But you looked it, Angus. I'll never forget the look of relief on your +face years ago when we appeared to take poor, little lost Faith Winton +off your hands--and off your pony. And yet she liked you. She speaks +still of how good and kind you were to her, though you frightened her at +first." + +"She must be thinking of Jean's doughnuts," Angus grinned. "I had +forgotten all about it. Where is she now?" + +"I don't know. She and her father were in Italy when I heard from her +last." + +"She would be grown up," Angus deduced. "I wonder if I would know her?" + +But the French ranch hove in sight, its big two-story house and maze of +stables in a setting of uncared-for fields, which Angus never saw +without something akin to pain. A chorus of dogs greeted the sound of +wheels, and half a dozen of them shot around the corner of the house. + +Angus liked dogs, but not when he was driving colts. But just as they +began to dance and the nigh bay had lashed out with a vicious hoof, +Gavin French came around the corner, and at his command the dogs shrank +as if he had laid a whip across them. Just then Gavin was wearing riding +breeches, moccasins, and a flannel shirt wide open at the throat and +stagged off at the sleeves, so that the bronzed column of his neck and +the full sweep of his long, splendidly muscled arms were revealed. He +strode softly, cat-footed, gripping with his toes, and the smoke of the +short pipe which was his inseparable companion, drifted behind him. + +"Hello, Kit!" he said, and nodded to Angus. "Where is Blake? He went for +you." + +"Blake's drunk," Kathleen replied. + +"Drunk, is he?" Gavin said without surprise. + +"And you're a nice bunch of brothers to send him! Couldn't one of you +have come?" + +"Oh, well, he was going, anyway," said Gavin carelessly. "Did you see +him?" + +"Yes, I saw him. He tried to stop Angus' team on the main street, and I +slashed him back with the whip." + +"You little devil!" said her brother, but with a certain admiration in +his voice. "But that's pretty hard medicine, Kit!" + +"And what sort of medicine is it for me to have a drunken blackguard of +a brother run out on the street to hold up the rig I'm driving in?" she +flared. "I'm entitled to ordinary respect; even if I am a sister, and +Blake and all of you had better understand it now." + +"Pshaw!" said Gavin. "The trouble with you, Kit, is that you've got a +wire edge. You're set on a hair-trigger." + +"And the trouble with Blake and the whole lot of you is that you've run +wild," she retorted. "You've got so that you don't care for anything or +anybody. You're practically savages. But I can tell you, you'll remember +some of the ordinary usages of civilization now I'm home." + +"And a sweet temper you've come back in!" said Gavin. He lifted his +sister down over the wheel and reached for the trunk. + +"It's heavy, Gan," she said, with a glance at Angus. + +"Is it?" said Gavin, gripping the handles. He lifted it without apparent +effort, and set it on his right shoulder. "I may be able to stagger +along with it," he told her ironically. "Would you like me to carry you, +too?" + +"You can't!" + +"Can't I?" laughed the blond giant. "Have you any money left to bet on +that?" + +"Five dollars that you can't carry me and the trunk--upstairs and to my +room." + +"My five," said her brother. "Come here." With the trunk on his shoulder +he bent his knees till he squatted low on the balls of his feet. "Now +sit on my shoulder and put your right arm around my neck. Give me your +left hand. All set?" + +"All set." + +Angus watched with interest, doubtful if he could do it. But slowly, +steadily, without shake or tremor the knees of the big man began to +straighten, and his shoulders topped by girl and trunk to rise, until he +stood upright. Upright he hitched to get a better balance, and strode +off for the house as easily as Angus himself would have carried a sack +of oats. Kathleen looked back at him and laughed. + +"Good-by, Angus. Thank you ever so much--and come and see me." + +The last thing Angus saw as he wheeled the colts for home, was the +burdened bulk of Gavin French stooping for the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +OLD SAM PAUL MAKES A PROPOSITION + + +Jean arrived on the next boat three days later, with a tragic tale of +missed connections. It seemed to Angus that the few months of absence +had made quite a difference. She seemed, in fact, almost a young lady, +even to his brotherly eye. + +But however she had changed she had not lost her grip on practical +things, and when she began to look around the house Angus and Turkey +found that their trouble in cleaning up had been wasted. For Jean dug +into corners, and under and behind things where, as Turkey said, nobody +but a girl would ever think of looking; and in such obscure and +out-of-the-way places she found some dirt, some articles discarded or +lost, and the more or less permanent abode of Tom and Matilda. + +Tom and Matilda were mice, which had become thoroughly tame and +domesticated. In the evenings Rennie fed them oatmeal and scraps of +cheese, chuckling to see them sit up on their hunkers and polish their +whiskers and wink their beady, little eyes, and all hands had united in +keeping the cats out. Everybody had regarded Tom and Matilda as good +citizens; and they had developed a simple and touching trust in mankind. +But Jean broke up their home ruthlessly, with exclamations of disgust; +and commandeering all the men for a day, turned the house inside out, +beat, swept, washed and scrubbed; and then put everything back again. +She professed to see a great difference, but nobody else agreed with +her. + +"The only difference I see," said Turkey, "is that I don't know where to +find a darn thing." + +"Well, you won't find it on the floor, or under a heap of rubbish six +months old," Jean told him. + +"Oh, all right," Turkey grumbled. "Now you've got all our things mixed +up maybe you'll be satisfied." + +Jean appealed to Angus, who agreed with Turkey. Whereat Jean sniffed and +left them to their opinions. + +Angus was a little apprehensive of his first meeting Blake French, but +to his relief the latter chose to ignore what had occurred. Rather to +his surprise Kathleen rode over to call on Jean, and the two girls +struck up a certain friendship. Thus Angus saw more of Kathleen and her +people than he had ever done before, including the head of the family, +Godfrey French himself. + +Godfrey French, though well on in years, was still erect and spare. He +had a cold, blue eye, much like Gavin's, but now a trifle weary, and a +slightly bent cynical mouth beneath a white moustach. He was invariably +courteous and dignified, and whatever might be said of his sons, there +was no doubt that the father possessed the ingrained manner of a +gentleman. Yet Angus did not like him, and he thought that old French +had little or no use for him. Somehow, French put him in mind of a +gray-muzzled old fox. + +One day in mid-summer as Angus sat in the shade of the workshop mending +a broken harness, old Paul Sam on his single-footing pony drew up at the +door. + +"'Al-lo!" he greeted. + +"Hello, Paul Sam," Angus returned. "You feel skookum to-day?" + +"Skookum, me," the Indian replied. "Skookum, you?" + +"Skookum, me," Angus told him. + +The old man got off his pony, sat down on an empty box, and drew out an +old buckskin, bead-worked fire-bag. From this he produced a stone pipe +bowl and a reed stem. Fitting the two together he filled the bowl and +smoked. + +This, Angus knew, was diplomacy. Whatever the Indian had come for, not a +word concerning it would he say till he had had his smoke. Then it would +probably be unimportant. So Angus waited in silence, and Paul Sam smoked +in silence. Finally the latter tapped out and unjointed his pipe and put +it away in his fire-bag. + +"Me got cooley kuitan," he announced. + +"Cooley" is apparently a corruption of the French word "courir," to run. +"Kuitan" is a horse. Hence a "cooley kuitan" in Chinook signifies a race +horse. + +Angus shook his head. He knew very well what Sam Paul intended doing +with this race horse. There was a local race meet each year, in +connection with the local fair. The race meet outsized the fair, dwarfed +it in interest. It drew tin horns and sure-thing gamblers as fresh meat +draws flies. These gentry ran various games, open when they could and +under cover when they could not. Then there were men with a seasoned old +ringer under a new name, or a couple of skates with which to pull off a +faked match race. There were various races, but the big event was a mile +for horses locally owned. There was some excellent stock in the country, +and great rivalry developed. + +In this race each year the Indians had entered some alleged running +horse and backed it gamely. But each year they lost, their horses being +neither trained nor ridden properly, and being completely outclassed as +well; for as a rule they were merely good saddle cayuses and +overweighted at that. This year French's horse, a beautiful, bright bay +named Flambeau, seemed likely to win. Angus had seen him and admired +him. Therefore he shook his head. + +"You only think you've got a cooley kuitan," he said. "Keep out of that +race, Paul Sam. You'll only lose money." + +"Him good," the Indian insisted. "S'pose him get good rider him win. +Injun boy no good to ride. Injun boy all right in Injun race; no good in +white man's race." + +"That's true enough," Angus agreed. "Injun boy don't kumtux the game. +Well, what about it?" + +"Mebbe-so you catch white boy to ride um?" Paul Sam suggested. + +"Do you mean Turkey?" Angus queried. + +"Ha-a-lo," Paul Sam negatived. "White boy, all same ride white man's +horse." + +"A jockey! Where would I get you a jockey?" + +But that detail was none of Paul Sam's business. + +"You catch um jock!" he said hopefully. + +"But I don't know where to get one. A jockey would cost money, and you +wouldn't win, anyway. You Injuns start a horse every year, and you never +have one that has a lookin. You'd better get the idea out of your head." + +But an idea once implanted in an Indian's head is apt to stay. Paul Sam +grinned complacently. + +"Me got dam' good cooley kuitan. Me kumtux kuitan." + +He told Angus the history of his horse, as he knew it. Stripped of +details, it amounted to this: Some five years before a fine English mare +which had been the property of a deceased remittance man, had been +auctioned off. She was in foal, and the colt in due course had been +sold, and in some obscure and involved cattle deal had become the +property of Paul Sam, who had let him run with his cayuses. When he +broke him to the saddle he found him remarkably fast. Being a real fox, +he said nothing about the colt's turn of speed, but bided his time. Now, +in his opinion, he could make a killing and spoil the Egyptian, alias +the white man, if only the colt were properly trained and ridden. He +applied to Angus for help, as being the son of his tillikum, Adam +Mackay. He invited him out to inspect the horse. + +Angus went and took Dave Rennie. The horse which Paul Sam led forth for +inspection was a big, slashing four-year-old, with a good head, an +honest eye, deep chest and clean, flat limbs. Every line of him told of +power and endurance; and to the eye which could translate power into +terms of speed, of the latter as well. Rennie whistled softly. + +"He looks to me like he had real blood in him. He's a weight carrier. +English hunting stock, I sh'd say. Some of 'em can run, all right. If +the mare was in foal when she was brought out, I wouldn't wonder if this +boy's sire was real class. He looks it." The big horse reached out a +twitching muzzle to investigate. Rennie stroked the velvet nose. "Kind +as a kitten, too. He seems to have the build, but that don't say he can +run." + +"Him run," Paul Sam affirmed. "You ride him." + +He cinched an old stock saddle on the chestnut, and Rennie mounted. He +cantered easily across the flat and back. + +"He's easy as an old rocker and light as a driftin' cloud," he said. +"The bit worries him, though. He needs rubber. You get on him, and see +what a real horse feels like." + +Angus lengthened the stirrups and swung up. As soon as he felt the +motion he knew he was astride a wondrous piece of mechanism. The +undulating lift of the big chestnut was as easy and effortless and +sustained as a smooth, rolling swell. Of his own accord the horse +quickened his pace from the easy sling of the canter to a long, +stretching, hand-gallop, drawing great lungfuls of air, shaking his +head, rejoicing in his own motion, glad to be doing the work he was +fitted for. At the end of the little flat Angus pulled up and turned. +Rennie's distant shout came faintly: + +"Let him come!" + +Breathing the horse for a moment, Angus loosed him from the canter to +the gallop and then, as he felt the coil and uncoil of the splendid +muscles, and the swell and quiver of the body, and the increasing reach +and stretch of the ever-quickening stride, he let him run. + +All his life Angus had ridden ponies, cayuses, but now he had a new +experience. The big chestnut, as he was given his head, made half a +dozen great bounds and then, steadying himself, he stretched his neck, +his body seemed to sink and straighten, and with muzzle almost in line +with his ears he began to put forth the speed that was in him. The rapid +drum of his hoofs quickened to a roar; the wind sang in Angus' ears; the +figures of Paul and Sam and Rennie seemed to come toward him, and he +shot past them and gradually eased the willing horse to canter and +walk. + +"Him cooley kuitan, hey?" Paul Sam grinned. "You catch um jock?" + +"But I don't know where to get one," Angus replied. + +"Well," said Rennie, "I don't know where to get no regular jockey, but I +know an old has-been that used to ride twenty years ago, before he got +smashed up. I dunno 's he'd ride now, in a race, but he could put the +horse in shape. He's got a fruit and chicken ranch somewheres on the +coast. Me and him was kids together, and he might come if I asked him. +Only he wouldn't do it for nothing." + +"You catch um," said Paul Sam. "Me pay um. Mebbe-so me win hiyu dolla!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +DORGAN + + +In due course a small, clean-shaven man who walked with a slight limp +surveyed the big chestnut with a shrewd, bright eye. This was Rennie's +friend, the ex-jockey. + +"Like his looks, Pete?" Rennie queried. + +Pete, whose surname was Dorgan, nodded. "I like 'em some ways," he +admitted. "He's got power to burn, and that'll give him speed--some. In +five miles he'd be runnin' strong, but he might not be fast enough at a +mile. 'Course, I don't know nothin' about what he'll be up ag'inst. What +time has this race been run in, other years?" When Angus told him he +grunted. "Good as that? Must be some real horses here. You're sure he +ain't stolen? I wouldn't want to be mixed up in a deal like that, even +if I am out of the game." + +"He ain't stolen. This old Injun is as straight as you are." + +"Well, I've been called crooked before now," Dorgan grinned. "But if you +say so, Dave, I guess this old boy is all right. You can tell him I'll +put the horse in the best shape I can, and maybe I'll ride him. If I +don't, I'll get a boy. But I ain't goin' to live with a bunch of Injuns +while I'm doin' it, and the horse has to be taken out of here." He eyed +Paul Sam's primitive stable arrangements with disgust. "He's ruinin' his +feet." + +Paul Sam made no objection, and the big chestnut which Dorgan christened +"Chief," was brought to the Mackay ranch. There he was installed in a +disused building which lay behind the other stables and some distance +from them. + +"The way I get it," said Dorgan, "we better keep this horse under cover +as long as we can. From what you say, there ain't been no class to the +hay-hounds the Siwashes has started other years, and so an Injun entry +is a joke entry. Nobody knows this horse, and seein' him the way he is +now, not many'd pipe what he really is unless they was wised up. But you +let some of these wise local birds lamp him after I've had him a couple +of weeks, and they might smell something. Then I may's well keep dark +myself. Not that I'm ashamed of myself more'n I ought to be, but +somebody might remember me, though I ain't ridden for years. So I'll be +an extra hand you've hired, see? Me and Chief will take our work-outs on +the quiet as long as we can." + +So Dorgan gave the horse his exercise on a little prairie a mile back of +the ranch. As he had predicted, a couple of weeks made a vast difference +in his appearance. Groomed till his chestnut coat was gleaming, dappled +satin, his feet trimmed and cleaned and polished and shod by Dorgan +himself, fed bright, clean grain and savory mashes and bedded to the +knees nightly in sweet straw, Chief tasted for the first time the joys +of the equine aristocracy to which he belonged. + +But somehow the rumor that the Indians had a mysterious horse and rider +got going, and one day Dorgan, who had been to town, came to Angus. + +"Say," he said, "do you know a hard-faced bird, near as big as you are +but older and heavier, that looks like a bad actor and likes the juice? +He seems to be the king-pin of a bunch of young rye-hounds that think +they're sports." + +"Do you mean Blake French?" + +"That's the outfit that owns this Flambeau horse, ain't it?" + +"Yes. What about it?" + +"Nothin' much. He'd have bought me a lot of friendship sealers if I'd +let him. Then there was a feller, name of Garland, that thinks he's a +warm member, and claimed he'd seen me ridin' long ago when he was a kid. +He might of, at that. They sorter fished around to find out what I was +doin' here. But they know, all right. If I was crooked I b'lieve I could +do business with them two." + +"I've never heard that they would do anything crooked. Of course they +might try to find out all they could." + +"If I'd taken all the crooked money I've been offered," said Dorgan, +"and got away with it, I wouldn't need to be worryin' about apples and +chickens now. I know when a feller's feelin' me out, same as I know when +a couple of young burglars is holdin' a pocket open for me to ride +into." + +"But they don't know if Paul Sam's horse can run or not." + +"That's their trouble. But if they can fix somebody, they don't need to +care." + +A couple of days after this, Angus, coming around Chief's quarters from +the rear, overheard Dorgan earnestly assuring Kathleen French that Chief +was quarantined for threatened influenza; and further that he was a +saddle horse, pure and simple, with no more speed than a cow. With a +glance at Angus which was intended to convey grave warning, he beat a +retreat. + +"Who is the remarkable liar?" Kathleen asked. + +"Is he that? His name is Pete Dorgan." + +"If you have a deadline on the place you ought to put up a sign," she +told him. "How did I know I was butting in?" + +"How do you know it now?" + +"Because I have average intelligence. I didn't know there was a horse +here at all. I was looking for Jean, and when I saw a perfectly +splendid, strange animal, naturally I stopped to look at him. I also saw +a little, flat pigskin saddle, and I saw that the horse was wearing +plates. Then this Dorgan appeared and lied straight ahead without the +least provocation, looking me in the face without the quiver of an +eyelash. I didn't ask him a single question, I give you my word. + +"There's no special reason why you shouldn't. The horse isn't mine. But +the fact is, his owner and Dorgan aren't saying anything about him." + +"Angus! he isn't--but no, of course he isn't!" + +"Isn't what?" + +"A ringer. I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't go into anything like that if +you knew it." + +Angus laughed. "He's no ringer. He belongs to Paul Sam." He told her as +much as he thought necessary of the animal's history. + +"Thanks for the confidence," she nodded. "I'll say nothing about it. If +you had treated me as Dorgan did, I should have felt hurt." + +"He didn't know you. He thinks this horse will give you a race." + +"What, beat Flambeau!" she cried. "Nonsense!" + +"Well, he seems to be a pretty good horse." + +"Then I'll bet you an even hundred now!" she challenged. + +"No, no. I don't want to bet with you." + +"Oh, you needn't have any scruples. The boys take my money--when they +can get it." + +"But I don't think I'll bet at all." + +"Then what on earth are you doing with the horse?" she asked in frank +astonishment. + +"He is just stabled here." + +"But I don't see why you won't bet if you think the horse has a good +chance." + +"Because I can't afford to lose." + +"But that makes it all the more exciting." + +"It makes it all the more foolish," Angus told her grimly. "It is all +very well for you; you people can afford to play with money." + +"How do you know we can?" + +"Well, I've always heard so." + +"And therefore it must be so." She switched the grass, looking down. +"Well, whether it is or not, we're born gamblers--the whole family. +Perhaps we can't help it. But sometimes--sometimes I wish it were +different. I wish the boys would work as you work; and--and that I were +a home girl with a nice big brother." + +"You have enough big brothers," Angus told her. "I think myself it would +do them no harm to work, but it is none of my business. I did not mean +to seem curious about your affairs. Anyway, some day you will be +marrying and leaving them." + +"Perhaps," she admitted. "The chief end of--woman! Oh, I suppose +so--some day. Well?" + +"That's all. You will likely marry somebody with plenty of money, and +then you will go away." + +"Do you mean that I shall marry for money?" + +"No, but if your husband has it, it will be no drawback. Lots of these +young fellows who go to your ranch are well fixed--or will be when +somebody dies." + +"How nicely you arrange my future. Which one of them am I to marry, +please?" + +"Whichever one you love best." + +"What on earth do you know about love, Angus Mackay?" + +"Nothing at all. But that is why people get married, isn't it?" + +"I think I have heard so," she said dryly. "Will that be why you will +marry--some day?" + +"Why else?" + +"Oh, Scotch! A question with a question! Would you marry for any other +reason?" + +"I would not marry a girl because she had money," said Angus, "because +the money would not be worth the nuisance of her if I didn't love her." + +Kathleen laughed at this frank statement, and went to find Jean. Angus' +reflections as to Kathleen were broken by the reappearance of Dorgan. + +"What did I tell you?" said the little man. "I guess my dope was poor, +huh!" + +"Your dope on what?" + +"On what? On them fellers I was talkin' to yesterday. Now here's +French's sister comes on the scout. When I seen her she was sure gettin' +an eyeful of Chief." + +"She was looking for my sister. She told me how it happened." + +"I'll gamble she did," Dorgan returned skeptically, "and I s'pose you +fell for it, like young fellers do. When a crook can't get the real dope +any other way, he plants a woman. That skirt----" + +"Go easy," Angus warned him. "That young lady is a friend of mine." + +"She ain't a friend of mine, and I got my own idea of what she was here +for. If you don't like it I'll keep it to myself." + +"You're barking up the wrong tree," Angus laughed. "She's as straight as +they make them. She says you're a remarkable liar, if you want to know." + +Dorgan grinned. "I said she was wise. Maybe my work was a little raw, +but she took me by surprise, and I was just doin' the best I could +off-hand." + +"You can't keep the horse cached forever." + +"That's all right. There's no use tellin' what you know most times. This +Flambeau from what I hear will carry a whole bunch of money for them +Frenches. They're givin' as good as five to three against the field. +That means they got the field sized up, or fixed. But they ain't got a +line on Chief, nor they ain't got me fixed, so their calculations has +been clean upset. Somebody's been watchin' me exercise, the last day or +two, but whoever it is ain't had a chance to clock nothin', because they +don't know the distances, and anyway I didn't let him out. They ain't +wise to him, but they're wise to me. They dope it out I wouldn't be +wastin' time on a horse that hadn't a chance. See what I'm gettin' at? A +pill or the needle would put Chief out of the money." + +"Nobody around here would do that," Angus told him. + +"They wouldn't hey?" said Dorgan with sarcasm. "Let me tell you that +right in the bushes is the place they put over stuff they couldn't get +by with nowheres else. The things I've seen pulled at these little, +local races would chill your blood. There's a bunch of murderers follows +'em up that'd hamstring a horse or sandbag an owner for a ten-case +note." + +"But--" Angus began. + +"But--nothing," Dorgan interrupted with contempt. "Don't you s'pose I've +been in the game long enough to know it? There'll be a bunch of tinhorns +and a wreckin' crew of crooked racin' men with a couple of outlaw +horses, all workin' together to skin the suckers. All them Frenches have +to do is to say it's worth fifty to fix any horse. You can maybe tell me +things about raisin' alfalfa, but not about racin'. When a woman gets +into the game, it's serious. After this I'm goin' to sleep right here." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +BEFORE THE RACE + + +A few days before the race Dorgan moved Chief to one of half a dozen +sheds on the fair grounds, which a load of lumber and another of straw +made comfortable. There he dwelt with him, giving him easy exercise and +sizing up the other horses. + +"Outside this Flambeau there ain't much to worry about," he concluded. +"Only with a field of seven, like there will be in this race, there's +always the chance of something going wrong. Chief ain't wise to starts, +nor to running in company." + +"You catch 'um good start," Paul Sam advised. + +"You're a wise Injun," Dorgan told him. "I'll try to be somewhere's on +the line--or in front of it. Still, I ain't quite burglar-proof." + +At the fair Angus had a number of exhibits of ranch produce, cattle, and +his team of young drivers. The night before the race he had been +arranging his exhibits. This done he had supper, strolled around for an +hour, and then returned to the National House, which was the leading +hotel, in search of a man to whom he hoped to sell a few head of cattle. +He got the number of his prospective customer's room, but apparently he +had been misinformed, for the room held a poker game in full blast, the +players being Gavin and Gerald French, two somewhat hard-faced +strangers, and a young fellow about his own age whom he set down as an +Englishman. + +The French boys nodded a greeting. + +"Hold on a minute," said Gerald as Angus would have withdrawn. "I want +to see you." + +So Angus remained, and standing behind Gerald watched the play. + +One of the strangers dealt. On the draw Gerald held a full house; and +yet he dropped out, as did Gavin. The Englishman who stayed lost most of +his remaining stack. But the winning stranger did not seem elated. He +scowled at the pot as he took it in. + +Wondering what intuition had bade Gerald lay down a full--for the pot +had been won by fours--Angus continued to watch the game. The deal came +to Gerald, who riffled the cards. + +"Time we had a drink," said he and rising brushed past Angus to touch a +wall button. Reseating himself he began to deal. + +One of the strangers opened. Gerald, as Angus could see, had nothing. +Nevertheless he stayed, drawing three cards. Everybody stayed. The +betting was brisk, and the pile of chips in the center grew. Gerald was +the first to drop out. One of the strangers and the Englishman followed +suit. Thus it was between the remaining stranger and Gavin. They +proceeded to raise each other. + +"If the limit was something worth while," said the stranger, "I could +get proper action on this hand." + +"It's high enough for these ranchers," the other stranger observed. +"They don't like a hard game." + +"What would you like?" Gavin queried. + +"If you're game to lift it, you can come after a hundred." + +Gavin, reaching into his pocket, brought forth a sheaf of currency from +which he stripped two bills. + +"_And_ a hundred," he said. + +The stranger's breath sucked hard through his teeth. His companion +glanced swiftly and suspiciously at him and then at Gerald. + +"This started out as a friendly game," he observed, a note of warning in +his voice. + +"Well, there's his hundred," the player said. "What you got? Come +on--show 'em." He leaned forward. + +"All the bullets," Gavin replied. He spread four aces face up, while his +other hand reached for the pot. + +The other stranger leaned forward, also, peering at the cards. Suddenly +he started and his hand shot toward them. But Gavin's fell on it, +pinning it to the table. + +"What are you trying to do?" he demanded. Beneath the coldness of his +tone there was something hard and menacing. The stranger wrenched to +free his hand. It remained pinned in Gavin's grasp. + +"I want to see those cards!" he cried with an oath. + +"Where do you come in?" Gavin asked. "You didn't call me." + +"But I did," the losing stranger broke in. "I want to see those cards, +and I'm going to." + +"You're looking at them now," Gavin pointed out. + +Gerald coolly swept up the cards. + +"I dealt them," he said. "They look all right to me. Four aces and a +club seven. Take a look at them, Mackay, and see if this man has +anything to kick at." + +Thus appealed to, Angus took the cards. "I don't see anything wrong with +them," he said. + +"You don't, hey?" cried the loser. "I'm wise to you now. You did it, did +you?" + +"Did what?" Angus queried. + +"Slipped him a cold deck!" the other roared. "You did it when he got up +to press the button." + +"I did nothing of the sort!" Angus denied in amazement. + +"You're a liar!" the other shrilled. "D'ye think we're going to be +cold-decked by a bunch of hicks?" He turned to Gavin. "Come through with +that money, or----" + +"Or what?" Gavin asked. + +By way of bluff or otherwise the stranger resorted to the old, cogent +argument. His right hand dropped swiftly. But as it did so Gavin thrust +the table forward violently. The man went backward, chair and all. +Gerald pounced on him like a leopard, caught his arm and twisted a +short-barreled gun from the clutching fingers. Gavin, with equal +quickness and less effort, caught and disarmed the other man, who +without a word had reached for his gun to back his friend. + +"Bad actors, you two!" Gerald sneered. "Gamblers--gunmen. Shocking! +What'll we do with them, Gan?" + +"Let 'em go," said the big man contemptuously, releasing his captive and +flipping the cartridges from the gun. "Beat it, you blighters, and pick +out easier marks next time." + +"You big crook!" snarled the owner of the gun, "I'll get you----" + +He never finished the sentence, for Gavin was on him. He caught him by +the clothes above his breast, lifted him clear and slammed him back +against the wall. There he held him, pinned with one hand, like a moth +in a show-case. + +"Get me, will you?" he growled hoarsely. "If I hit you, you cheap +tinhorn, you'd never get me or anybody else. Try to get me, and I'll +break your back over my knee. Like this!" + +He plucked the man away from the wall as if he had been a doll, and +threw him, back down, across his knee. For an instant he held him, and +then set him on his feet. The man's face was the dead gray of asbestos +paper. + +"Git!" Gavin commanded. "Don't fool around here or make any more bluffs. +Get out of town." + +When the two strangers had gone, Gerald laughed gently. + +"This breaks up our game, I guess," he said. "By the way--Angus +Mackay--Mr. Chetwood." + +The two young men shook hands. Chetwood was a long-limbed young fellow +with the old-country color fresh in his cheeks, frank blue eyes with a +baby stare which would have been a credit to any ingenue, but which held +an occasional twinkle quite at variance with their ordinary expression. +Angus was inclined to like him. Chetwood, on his part, eyed the lean, +hard, sinewy bulk of Angus with admiration. + +"I say, what was all the row about?" he asked Gerald. "They accused you +of cheating, what?" + +"Old game," said Gerald carelessly. "They went up against an unbeatable +hand, lost more than they could afford, and tried to run a bluff. They +were both crooks, anyway." + +"But if you knew that, why the deuce did you play with them?" + +"You can't be too particular if you want a game," Gerald laughed. + +"You do things so dam' casual out here," Chetwood complained +whimsically. "Now when they tried to draw revolvers--'guns' you call +them out here--I should have given them in charge." + +"Too much trouble and no police force handy," said Gerald. "But I wanted +to ask you about that horse you've been training for the Indians, +Mackay. Are you betting on him?" + +"I haven't been training him, and I don't think I'll bet. The Indians +will, though." + +"Tell 'em we'll take all the money they have, at evens." + +"Even money against the field?" + +"Exactly. You'd better take a little yourself." + +But Angus refused, principally because he had no money to lose. They +went down to the lobby. This was crowded. Blake French, standing on a +chair, was flourishing a sheaf of bills, offering even money as his +brothers had done. He had been drinking, and his remarks seemed to be +directed at some certain person or persons. + +Looking over the heads of the crowd, Angus saw Dorgan and Paul Sam +standing together. The old Indian, bare-headed, his gray braids hanging +in front of either shoulder, wearing a blanket coat, skin-tight leggins +and brand-new moccasins, made an incongruous figure. The two, seeing +Angus, made their way toward him. + +"That bird," said Dorgan nodding toward Blake, "is makin' a cinch offer. +Take all you can get. The old boy, here, was just waitin' for you to +hold the bets." + +"S'pose you hold money, me bet him now," Paul Sam confirmed. + +"Come on, come on!" Blake vociferated from his perch. "Put up a bet on +your--cayuse. Here's real money. Come and get it!" + +Dorgan turned to face him. + +"You're makin' a whole lot of noise on that handful of chicken feed," he +observed. + +"Come and take it then," Blake retorted. "They tell me you used to ride +for white men once." + +"Well, that never gave _you_ no first call on me!" Dorgan shot back. + +Somebody laughed, and Blake's temper, always ugly, flared up. + +"Keep a civil tongue in your head, you down-and-outer, or I'll throw you +out!" he rasped. + +But Dorgan was not awed by the threat, nor by the size of the man who +made it. + +"Your own tongue ain't workin' none too smooth," he retorted. "Throw me +out, hey? About all you'll throw will be a D. T. fit. A hunk of mice +bait, that's about what you are, color and all." + +With an oath Blake leaped from his chair, sending it crashing behind +him. Perfectly game, little Dorgan crouched to meet the rush, in an +attitude which showed a certain experience. + +But Angus, cursing the luck which seemed to lead him athwart Blake, +stepped between them. + +"Hold on, now," he said. "You mustn't----" + +"Get out of my way!" Blake roared. + +"Now wait!" Angus insisted pacifically. "It wouldn't----" + +But Blake struck at him. Angus dodged and clinched. But as he began to +shove Blake back Gavin's great arms were thrust between them. + +"Let go, Mackay," he said. "Quit it!" he commanded Blake. + +"I'll show that runt he can't insult me!" the latter frothed. "Yes, and +Mackay, too. Turn me loose, Gan----" + +"You can't beat up their jockey before the race," his brother told him. +"Too raw. Mackay? Mackay'd make a mess of you. Quit it, I tell you." + +"I'll----" Blake began. But Gavin suddenly cursed him. + +"Do you want me to handle you?" he demanded. In his voice came the +hoarse, growling note it had held when he had spoken to the man pinned +against the wall. His hand clamped his brother's wrist and his eyes +blazed. Half drunk as he was, Blake apparently recognized these danger +signals. + +"Let go," he said. "I won't start anything." + +His brother eyed him for a moment and turned to Paul Sam. + +"How much do you want to bet?" + +For answer the Indian pulled forth a huge roll of bills bound by a +buckskin thong. They represented sales of steers, cayuses, skins of +marten, beaver, bear and lynx, bounties on coyotes and mountain lion. + +"Bet um all!" he announced succinctly. + +"See what he's got," Gavin said to Angus, "and we'll cover it." + +Angus sorted out the currency. It was in bills of various denominations +and various stages of dilapidation. The amount totaled a little over +twelve hundred dollars. + +"We'll put up a check," said Gerald. + +But when this was explained to Paul Sam, he interposed a decided +negative. He himself was putting up real, tangible money, that could be +handled and counted. Similar money must be put up against it. And when +this was procured, with considerable difficulty at that time of night, +he would not hear of it being put in the hotel safe, but insisted that +Angus should hold it literally. + +"Ha-a-lo put um in skookum box," he declared positively. "Me know you. +S'pose you keep money, s'pose me win, me catch um sure. S'pose him put +in skookum box, mebbe so me no catch um. You keep um money." + +Reluctantly, Angus accepted its custody, but privately he made up his +mind to deposit it in the safe as soon as the old Indian had gone. Soon +after, Chetwood drew him aside. + +"I've a fancy to have a little on the old buster's horse," he announced. +"What do you say?" + +"I don't say anything; it's your money." + +"Quite so. But what sort of a run do you think I'll get for it?" + +"The best the horse has in him, whatever that is." + +"Then I've a notion to have a go at it." + +"Do you know anything about the horses?" + +"Not a thing," Chetwood replied cheerfully. "In the expressive language +of the country, I'm playing a hunch. That old Indian takes my eye, +rather." + +"He's foxy enough. But the Indians have entered a horse every year, and +never won yet." + +"But a chap can't lose all the time," Chetwood observed. "And then the +Frenches are offering even money against the field. No end sporting of +'em, but risky. That little ex-jockey knows his business?" + +"I think so. Perhaps you'd like to have a talk with him and see the +horse. He's going out now, and we'll go with him, if you care to." + +"Thanks," Chetwood acknowledged. "That's very decent of you, Mackay. I'd +like it very much." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A HOLD-UP + + +The road to the track, which was nearly a mile beyond the town, was +lonely and dark. Most of the way it ran through a wooded flat, and the +tree shadows overlay it with denser gloom. But at last they emerged from +the trees upon the natural prairie which held track and fair grounds. +Along one side was a row of sheds, and here and there a lantern gleamed. +Toward one of these lights Dorgan led them. + +Dave Rennie, reading beside a lantern, nodded silently and, introduced +to Chetwood, regarded him with disfavor, as a remittance man, one of the +balloon-pants brigade. + +"Everything all right, Davy?" Dorgan asked. + +"Quiet now. There was a row down among the sheds a while ago. A pair of +drunks mixed it, till we pulled 'em apart." + +Dorgan picked up the lantern and illuminated a stall at the rear. Chief +seemed uneasy, sidling away from the light, snorting and shaking his +head. Chetwood moved with him, inspecting him closely. + +"I should say that he has plenty of staying power," he observed. "At the +distance I'd back him rather than any weedy, greyhound stock." + +"And you'd be a good judge," Dorgan agreed, regarding Chetwood with more +respect. Chief blew noisily, shaking his head and rubbing his nose +against the feed-box. "How long's he been actin' that way, Dave?" + +"Maybe an hour. I thought it might be a fly or a bit of foxtail in his +feed." + +"Not a bit of foxtail in his hay or beddin'. Might be a fly. Hold the +lantern a minute." + +He passed his hand over Chief's muzzle, and the horse thrust against his +body, twisting and shaking his head. Dorgan examined his ears. + +"Seems all right. What's worryin' you, old boy?" + +The horse nosed him again, and exhaled a deep breath. Chetwood uttered +an exclamation. + +"How was his wind to-day when you exercised him?" + +"Wind? Good. Why?" + +"No cold--no stoppage of the nostrils?" + +"No. What you gettin' at?" + +"Listen to his breathing. There's something about it--not clear--a +little, straining wheeze----" + +Eyes narrowing, vibrant with quick suspicion, Dorgan took the horse's +head on his shoulder and leaned his ear to the nostrils, listening +intently. Suddenly he swore, a single, tremendous expletive, deep with +venom, turning on Rennie. + +"Did you go to see that fight you was speakin' of?" + +"Sure. But I wasn't away five minutes." + +"Was the horse uneasy before that?" + +"I didn't notice it till I come back," Rennie admitted, and Dorgan swore +again. + +"They got to us somehow. Wait now. Hold still, Chief. So--o, lad! Quiet, +boy!" Gently he laid his face against the muzzle. "By----, it's +sponges!" he exclaimed suddenly. + +"Sponges?" Angus repeated, puzzled. + +"Sure--sponges! One of the bloody, dirtiest, meanest, surest-fire tricks +in the whole box. A little, soft sponge shot up each nostril. A horse +can't blow 'em out. He can breathe all right when he's quiet, but when +he starts to run he can't get wind enough through 'em to feed his lungs, +and they choke him off. It don't take a minute to work the trick on a +quiet horse. It can be put over five minutes or a day before a race. A +rider can do his best and get no speed. A crooked owner can fix his own +horse and tell his boy to ride to win. That's what somebody's put over +on us, and I'll gamble on it. Dave, fetch me my little black bag." + +The bag contained a kit of veterinary instruments, and from them Dorgan +selected a pair of long, slender forceps. But Chief objected and had to +be thrown. Angus sat on his head while Dorgan worked. In the end he got +the sponges, and Chief released, struggled up snorting, but apparently +relieved and glad to be able to fill his lungs full once more. + +"And a devil of a note a night before a race!" Dorgan commented. "Some +horses it would put clean up in the air. But I'll bet Chief will fix +this French bunch now, in spite of their dirty work." + +"What makes you think they did it?" + +"Ain't they givin' even money against the field? That means they think +they got us fixed. That big stiff that tried to beat me up to-night +would have fixed me if he could. They framed that fight to get Dave away +from here. Well, there's no use makin' a roar, because we got nothin' on +them. We're lucky to get wise." He nodded to Chetwood. "I dunno's we +would if it hadn't been for you. I didn't think you knew a thing about +the game, but I guess you do." + +"Even if I am a pilgrim?" Chetwood laughed. "But you know we have +horses and a few races in England." + +"The smoothest crook I ever come across in the racin' game was an +Englishman," Dorgan admitted generously. + +Chetwood laughed at this ambiguous testimonial, and Angus liked him the +better for it. Leaving Dorgan and Rennie to look after the horse, they +took their townward way. The darkness seemed more intense. They stumbled +on the deeply-rutted road. + +"We should have borrowed a lantern," Chetwood observed. "The bally trees +make it black as the devil. I think--Look out, Mackay! 'Ware foot-pads!" + +As he spoke a dry stick cracked sharply. Angus whirled to his right. +Three black figures were almost on top of them. He had no time to dodge +or brace himself. An arm swung around his neck, and he got his chin down +just in time. He grasped the arm, tore it down across his shoulder, and +would no doubt have broken it with the next wrench; but just then +something descended on his head, and he went down unconscious in the +dust of the trail. + +He came back to the world of affairs with a ripple of artistic English +swearing in his ears, and sat up. + +"That you, Chetwood?" he asked. + +"Right-o, old chap!" Chetwood replied, in tones of relief. "You've been +in dreamland so long I was afraid the blighters had jolly well bashed in +your coco." + +"What happened?" Angus demanded. + +"Well, it's a bit thick to me," the Englishman admitted. "There were +four of the beggars, and three of them went for you while the other gave +me all I could do. They floored you, and then rapped me on the head +with a sandbag, I should say." He felt his cranium tenderly. "Laid us +both out side by side like a pair of blinking babes in the wood. I came +around first, and that's some minutes ago. You're sure you're quite all +right, old man?" + +But struck by a sudden, horrible suspicion, Angus put his hand in his +pocket and gasped. + +"What's the matter?" + +"Matter enough," he replied. "They have rustled all the money I was +holding for Paul Sam and the French boys!" + +"My aunt!" Chetwood ejaculated. "We must have been followed." + +Angus nodded gloomily, cursing his own folly. Why had he been such a +fool to carry nearly twenty-four hundred dollars in his pocket? He had +fully intended to deposit it in the safe, but had neglected to do so. +Now it was gone, and naturally he was responsible. + +"I guess we were," he agreed. "You didn't recognize any of them, of +course?" + +"No. Too dark. I say, Mackay, this is beastly rotten luck." + +"Worse than that for me. I'll have to make good." + +"Yes, 'fraid you will. I say--you'll pardon me, I'm sure--but in the +expressive idiom of the country, will it throw a crimp into you to do +it?" + +"Will it?" Angus replied grimly. "I have no more than three hundred +dollars in the bank, and it keeps me scratching gravel with both feet to +make ends meet on the ranch and pay what I have to pay. It puts me in a +devil of a hole, if you want to know." + +"Hard lines!" Chetwood sympathized. "In the breezy phraseology of the +country, it's sure hell. But buck up, old chap! Let me be your banker." + +"You mean you'll lend me the money?" Angus exclaimed. + +"Like a shot." + +"Are you that strong?" + +"Strong?" Chetwood queried. + +"I mean that well fixed financially." + +"Another delightful idiom!" Chetwood laughed. "Must remember it. Well, I +have some money to invest, and this looks like my chance." + +"It looks to me like a mighty poor investment," Angus told him. "I +couldn't pay you for the Lord knows how long." + +"Shouldn't expect you to." + +"No, I can't do it," Angus decided, "though it's mighty white of you, +and I am just as much obliged. I'll get it from somebody who is in the +loaning business." + +"Back your paper, if you like." + +"Nor that either. I will kill my own snakes." + +"Obstinate beggar!" Chetwood commented. "Highland blood, and all that +sort of thing." He was silent for a moment. "By George, I've got it!" he +exclaimed. "I know how we'll turn the corner. Simplest thing in the +world. I'll bet the amount you've lost, we win it, and there we are. +Rippin' idea, what!" + +"Suppose we don't win?" + +"Don't be a bally pessimist. It's more than a sportin' chance; it's a +sound declaration. I'll have a go at it." + +Seeing that he was thoroughly in earnest, Angus endeavored to dissuade +him, and at last apparently succeeded. + +"But we'll find some way out," he said. "Never say die. No surrender. +Yard-arm to yard-arm, and keep the ruddy flag flying, Mackay." + +But Angus slept little that night. The problem of raising the money +worried him. He thought he could get it from Mr. Braden, but he was not +sure. And what worried him just as much was that eventually it must come +out of the ranch. His carelessness had saddled it with a fresh load of +debt. Then there was Jean. Whatever happened, her education must not be +interrupted, her way must be paid. He would see to that if he had to +sell every head of stock on the range. The first pale dawn was rousing +the birds to sleepy twitterings when he finally forgot his problems in +troubled slumber. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RACE + + +Mr. Braden regarded Angus Mackay severely across his desk. "Tut, tut, +tut!" he said. "A very bad business, indeed. Bad company. Evil +communications, horse racing, gambling. Very bad!" + +"But all I did was to hold the stakes," Angus protested. + +"That was just what you didn't do," Mr. Braden pointed out. "It is a +large sum." + +"I know that, but I have to have it. I am good for the money. Chetwood +offered to lend it to me or endorse my note, but----" + +"Chetwood, hey?" said Mr. Braden with sudden interest. "Why should he do +that?" + +"No reason at all. That's why I wouldn't let him." + +"Do you know what he is going to do in this country?" + +"He spoke of ranching." + +"Ha!" said Mr. Braden. "Has he bought any land yet?" + +"I don't think so." + +"He should be careful," said Mr. Braden. "He should go to some reliable +person. Too many irresponsible dealers. He might get--er--stung. I have +some very attractive propositions. Did he mention any amount that he was +prepared to invest?" + +"No. He's going to look around before he buys." + +"Glad to show him around," said Mr. Braden heartily. "Bring him to me, +Angus, and he won't regret it. Neither--er--neither will you." + +"How about lending me this money?" Angus asked. + +"Oh--ah--yes, the money. H'm. Well, under the circumstances I will +advance it on your note. Not business, but to help _you_ out----Well, +don't forget about Chetwood. Bring him in. He might get into wrong +hands, you know. Bring him in, my boy, and you won't regret it." + +With the settlement of the money question Angus was greatly relieved. He +was saddled with an additional debt, but at least he was in a position +to pay the winner, which as he looked at it was the main thing. + +With Jean he went out to the track early in the afternoon. Here and +there in the crowd he noted the tall figures of the French brothers. +Apparently, they were still taking all the money they could get. On +their way to the stand to secure seats, they came upon Chetwood, who was +eying the motley crowd whose costumes ranged from blankets to Bond +Street coats, with pure delight. But being introduced to Jean, the young +Englishman lost all interest in the crowd, and accompanied them. +Kathleen French waved greeting to them, and they found seats beside her. +It appeared that she had met Chetwood. + +"Well, Angus, do you want any Flambeau money?" she laughed. + +"I wouldn't bet much, if I were you," he advised her seriously. + +"I will bet every dollar I can. That's what the boys are doing, and +they're good judges of a horse." + +"I think Dorgan is a better one." + +"What does he know about Flambeau?" she asked. + +"He seems to be satisfied with knowing Chief." + +A little line came between Kathleen's eyes, but she shook her head. +"Flambeau carries all the money we can get up." + +Angus having given her his advice said no more, and went to have a final +look at Chief. + +"I've had Dave bet my roll for me," Dorgan told him. "I ain't a regular +rider no more, and I need the money. Barring accidents, Chief wins +handy." + +"The Frenches are just as sure of Flambeau." + +"Yeh," Dorgan replied calmly. "I just seen the boy burglar that's ridin' +for 'em. There's tracks he couldn't work on, but I ain't makin' no kick. +If he puts anything over on me, it'll be new stuff. But I guess they +figure they got the race won in the stable." + +When Flambeau came on the track, Angus admitted to himself that he +justified Kathleen's confidence. Knowing quite well what he had to do, +the horse was eager. Up on his withers crouched a hard-faced boy in +maroon and silver, who eyed the other horses and riders with cool +contempt. + +But Chief was being led through the gate, and up on his back flashed +Dorgan's old black-and-yellow silk. The big horse stepped forward, +looking at track and crowd with surprised and inquiring but quite calm +eyes. Dorgan patted his neck and spoke to him, and he came past the +stand in the long, singing, stretching canter which was deceptive by its +very ease. Angus looked at Kathleen. + +"He's a grand horse!" she admitted, and once more the little line lay +between her eyes. + +It became evident at the start that it was a fight between Dorgan and +French's boy. Neither would concede the slightest advantage. Both were +warned. As they wheeled back, after half a dozen abortive starts, +French's boy was spitting insults from the corner of his mouth, and old +Dorgan was grinning at him. Side by side, watching each other like +boxers, they wheeled and came down on the line. Crouched, arms extended, +the harried starter caught the bunch fair at last. + +"G'wan!" he yelled as his flag swept. "G'wan outa here!" And the dust of +the flurrying hoofs hid him. + +At the turn Flambeau was running third, and slightly behind and a little +wide and thus out of a possible danger zone, was the black and yellow. +But in the stretch on the first round Flambeau had drawn level with the +leading horse. As they swept past the stand, Chief, still behind and +well out, was running like a machine. Dorgan turned his face, twisted in +a grin, up to the stand. + +"By George, the old boy thinks he has the race on toast!" Chetwood +exclaimed. + +"He can't catch Flambeau now!" Kathleen asserted. + +But to Angus came the recollection of a piece of the old jockey's +wisdom. + +"Not every jock that knows pace is a good jock," he had said; "but no +jock is a good jock that don't. If you know pace and know you're makin' +the time, you don't need to worry. Your leaders will come back to you. I +never was no star rider, but pace is one thing I do know." + +At the turn it was plainly a fight between the two horses. Angus saw +French's boy turn his head, and then sit down to ride. Dorgan was +motionless, lying flat, but the gap began to close. Angus glanced at +Kathleen. She was leaning forward, tense, eager, her lips drawn +straight, the color pinched from them. When he looked at the horses +again Chief's head was lapping Flambeau. French's boy went to his bat. +It rose and fell. At the same moment Dorgan seemed to sink into and +become part of his horse's neck. + +For an instant they seemed to be running together. Then steadily, +surely, inch by inch the black and yellow crept past the maroon and +silver, and the chestnut head appeared in front of the bay. Into the +stretch they came, French's boy riding it out and fighting it out to the +last inch with Flambeau game to the core under terrific punishment. But +as they thundered past the stand Dorgan, his ear hugging Chief's neck, +was looking back beneath his arm, and there was clear daylight between +the horses. + +Once more Angus glanced at Kathleen. She smiled as she met his eye. + +"Well, you were right," she said. + +"I hope you didn't lose much." + +"We--I lost--plenty, thanks. Anyway, I'm proud of Flambeau. He was +outrun, but he ran game to the last foot." + +With Chetwood, Angus went to see Dorgan. On the way they came upon Gavin +and Gerald French. The latter was tearing up a bunch of tickets. At +sight of them he laughed, tossing the fragments aloft. + +"Good paper--once," he observed. "Give you a check to-night, Chetwood." + +"Give you mine, too," said Gavin, lighting his pipe. "Good race, wasn't +it?" + +"Rippin'," Chetwood agreed. "No hurry about settlements, you know." + +"Oh, we may as well clean up," Gerald returned carelessly. "See you +later." + +"So you did bet," Angus observed to his companion as they moved on. + +"I told you it was a sound scheme to get back what you lost. I was jolly +right, too. The money is quite at your service if you need it." + +"I've raised the money, thanks all the same." + +"In the quaint idiom of the country, far be it from me to horn in, but +if I'm not impertinent, how did you do it?" + +"Borrowed it on my note." + +"Oh, my sacred aunt!" Chetwood groaned. "Now listen to reason, old chap. +Here's this money, just the same as if I'd found what you lost. Take it +and----" + +"Cut it out!" Angus interrupted. "That doesn't go." + +"What an obstinate beggar you are!" Chetwood observed in disappointment. +"Well, we'll say no more about it, then. Do you know, I fancy the +Frenches have come rather a cropper to-day. Of course, I don't know +anything of their finances, but they were doing some dashed heavy +betting. I fancied Miss French was hard hit." + +"So did I," Angus agreed. + +"Stood up to it like a major," Chetwood nodded. "Like to see 'em game." + +They found Dorgan and Rennie rubbing and sponging the big horse, fussing +over him like two hens with one chick. + +"Well, I win me a whole barrel of kale," Dorgan chuckled. "I'll bet them +Frenches will find her a hard winter unless they're well fixed." He eyed +the big chestnut contemplatively for a moment. "And yet, mind you, he +ain't a racin' horse," he said, "and don't you never fool yourself that +he is. He can run now, and he'll always run as long as an eight-day +clock, because he's got the works. But he's a weight carrier, that's +what he is. He's a white man's horse, and I hate like poison to see him +go back to them Lo's. Why don't you buy him? He'd carry your weight, and +you'd be ridin' a real horse." + +"I haven't the money," Angus replied regretfully, for in his heart he +had coveted Chief from the time he had first mounted him. + +Later, when he had handed over his winnings to Paul Sam, Angus drove +homeward with Jean. The day had been fine, but in the west a blue-black +sky, tinged with copper, bore promise of storm. He sent the team along +at a lively clip to reach home before it should break. + +He reflected that it had been a most expensive race for him. He did not +know when he would be able to repay the money he had borrowed. But his +crops were looking well, and his grain was almost ready to cut. His hay +was already in. This year he could pay interest on Braden's mortgage. +Jean would require more money. She was going to take a special, +qualifying course, after which she would be able to teach. But he rather +hoped she would not. Undoubtedly, she livened up the ranch. + +Recently Jean had developed. She had grown not only physically but +mentally. She was, Angus realized, a young woman. He had heard Chetwood +ask permission to call at the ranch. + +"How do you like this Chetwood?" he asked. + +"Where did you meet him?" Miss Jean countered. + +"With a couple of the French boys." + +"Oh," said Miss Jean, who was under no delusions as to the boys +aforesaid, "then he's apt to need his remittances." + +"He seems a decent chap," her brother observed. + +"He may be," Miss Jean returned nonchalantly, "but I'm not strong for +these remittance men." + +But the black cloud was mounting higher and higher. A gust of cold wind +struck their faces. The dust of the trail rose in clouds, and behind it +they heard the roar of the wind. Beyond that again, as they topped a +rise and obtained a view, a gray veil, dense, opaque, seemed to have +been let down. + +"I'm afraid we can't make the ranch without a wetting," Angus said. + +"And my best duds, too!" Jean groaned. + +A quarter of a mile ahead there was the wreck of an abandoned shack +which might suffice to keep Jean dry, and Angus sent his team into their +collars; but they had not covered half the distance when with a hissing +rush the gray barrier was upon them. And it was not rain, but hail! + +The stones varied in size from that of buckshot to robin's eggs. Under +the bombardment the dust puffed from the trail. The horses leaped and +swerved at the pelting punishment, refusing to face it. + +"Throw the lap-robe over your head," Angus told Jean, and thereafter was +occupied exclusively with his team. + +The colts swung around, cramping the wheel, almost upsetting the rig. +Angus avoided a capsize by a liberal use of the whip, but with the +punishment and the sting and batter of the icy pellets the animals were +frantic. They began to run. + +Not being able to help it, Angus let them go, having confidence in his +harness and rig. Just there the road was good, without steep grades or +sharp turns. He let them run for half a mile under a steady pull, and +then after reminding them of their duty by the whip, he began to saw +them down. Inside a few hundred yards he had them under control, and +pulled them, quivering and all a-jump, under the shelter of two giant, +bushy firs. + +There Jean, peeping from beneath the robe, saw her brother by the colts' +heads. + +"Thanks for the ride!" she observed with mild sarcasm. Angus stiffened +arm and body against a sudden lunge. + +"Stand still, you!" he commanded, "or I'll club you till you'll be glad +to!" And to Jean: "They wouldn't face it, and I don't blame them. I +thought we were over once." + +"Some hail!" Jean commented. "I never saw anything like it." + +But already the storm was passing. Came a tail-end spatter of rain, and +the sky began to clear. But as he wheeled his team out from shelter +Angus' face was very grave, and a sudden thought struck his sister. + +"Why," she exclaimed, her brown eyes opening wide, "do you suppose that +hail struck the ranch?" + +"I don't know," he replied, "but if it did, there won't be any threshing +this year. It was bad." + +As they drove on there was evidence of that. The grass was beaten flat, +bushes were stripped of leaves. They passed the body of a young grouse +which, caught in the open and confused, had been pelted to death. It was +without doubt very bad hail. + +When they came in sight of the ranch, Jean, unable to restrain her +impatience, rose to her feet and, holding her brother's shoulder, took a +long look. He felt her hand tighten, gripping him hard. Then she dropped +back into the seat beside him. + +"It--it hit us!" she said. + +In a few moments Angus could see for himself. The fields of grain which, +as they had driven away that morning, had rippled in the fresh wind, +nodding full, heavy heads to the blue sky, were beaten flat. The heads +themselves were threshed by the icy flail of the storm. He knew as he +looked at the flattened ruin that there would be no threshing. He was +"hailed out"! + +Though the event assumed the proportions of a disaster, Angus said not a +word. His black brows drew down and his mouth set hard. That was all. He +felt Jean's arm go beneath his and press it. + +"I'm sorry, old boy!" she said. "We needed the money, didn't we!" + +"Yes," he replied. + +"Oh, well, it can't be helped," she said. "I'll stay home this winter, +of course. I can do that much to help, anyway." + +"You will do nothing of the sort," her brother declared. + +"But----" + +"I will find the money. You will finish what you have begun, and that is +all there is to it." + +"I won't----" + +"You _will_!" Angus said in a voice his sister had never heard before. +"I say you will. You have a right to your education, and you shall have +it. If I cannot give it to you, I am no man at all!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +MAINLY ABOUT CHETWOOD + + +When Angus came to investigate the damage wrought by the hail, he found +it very complete. There would be no grain to thresh. It turned out that +his had been the only ranch to suffer, the swath of the storm having +missed his neighbors. It seemed the climax of the bad luck which had +attended that twenty-four hours. + +Jean, when she saw that her brother was absolutely determined that she +should have another year of study, gave in, knowing nothing of the money +he had borrowed. In the fortnight that elapsed before her departure, she +was very busy, not only with her own preparations, but with preserving, +pickling and mending for the ranch. + +During this time Chetwood was an intermittent visitor. On these visits +most of his time was spent in Jean's vicinity. Thus, on the eve of her +departure, when she was very busy with a final batch of preserves, he +appeared in the door. In his eyes, Jean, uniformed in a voluminous blue +apron, her face flushed and her strong young arms bare, made a very +charming picture. But Jean did not know that. She was extremely hot and +somewhat sticky, and believed herself to be untidy. She felt all the +discomfort and none of the dignity of labor. Hence her greeting was not +cordial. + +"I haven't time to stop," she said, indicating preserving kettle and +jars with a wave of a dripping ladle. "You had better go and find the +boys." + +"Please let me stay. I like to watch you." + +"I don't like being watched. You can't find much amusement in watching +me work." + +"Very jolly thing, work," Chetwood observed gravely. + +"Bosh!" Miss Jean returned. She eyed her guest with pardonable +irritation. "What do you know about work?" she demanded. + +"Why--er--not a great deal, I'm afraid," he admitted. + +"Then don't talk nonsense." + +"But it isn't nonsense. I mean to say work keeps one occupied, you +know." + +"I notice it keeps me occupied," Miss Jean retorted, still more +irritated by this profound observation. + +"I mean one gets tired of doing nothing." + +"Then why doesn't one do something?" she snapped. + +Chetwood regarded her whimsically. "I'm afraid you mean me." + +"Well," said Miss Jean, "I would like to see you busy at something, +instead of looking so blessed cool and--and lazy." + +"Oh, I say!" + +"A man who doesn't work in this country," Jean stated severely, "is out +of place." + +"But a man who is out of a place doesn't work, does he?" + +"I'm not joking," Miss Jean said with dignity. "I believe in work for +everybody." + +"So do I. Admire it immensely, I assure you." + +"Bah!" Miss Jean ejaculated. "I don't believe you could do a day's work +on a bet. You're like all the rest of--of----" + +"Go on," Chetwood encouraged as she came to a stop in some confusion. + +"Well, I will," said Miss Jean with sudden determination. "You're like +all the rest of the remittance men. That's what I was going to say." + +"One would gather that your opinion of what you call 'remittance men,' +is not high." + +"High!" Miss Jean's tone expressed much. + +"H'm! Wasters, rotters, what?" + +"And then some." + +"And I'm like them, you think?" + +"Oh, well, I didn't mean just that," Miss Jean admitted under +cross-examination. "But you _don't_ work, you know." + +"Would you like me to work?" + +"Why should I care whether you work or not?" + +"It _is_ strange," Chetwood murmured. + +"I _don't_!" snapped Miss Jean. "I don't care a--a darn! But I'll bet +when I come back in the spring, if you're here you'll be doing just what +you're doing now." + +"I'm sorry you're going away. I thought if we were better acquainted we +should be rather pals." + +"We might be," Miss Jean admitted, "but we have our work to do--at least +I have." + +"I see plainly," said Chetwood, "that this demon of work will get me +yet." + +"Well, it won't hurt you a little bit," Miss Jean told him, and +thereafter gave her exclusive attention to her preserving. + +With the going of Jean, Angus buckled down in earnest. The next year +must make up for his loss, and with this in view he began to clear more +land. He threw himself into the labor, matching his strength and +endurance against the tasks and the time. He worked his teams as +mercilessly as he worked himself, and for the first time he began to +drive others. + +But to this speeding-up Turkey did not take kindly. By nature he was +impatient of steady work, of control, of all discipline. He craved +motion, excitement. He would ride from daylight to dark in any sort of +weather rounding up stock, and enjoy himself thoroughly, but half a day +behind a plow would send him into the sulks. He had broken a fine, young +blue mare for his own use, and he took to being out at night, coming in +late. He never told Angus where he went, but though the latter asked no +questions the youngster could feel his disapproval. But as he possessed +a vein of obstinacy and contrariness, this merely confirmed him in his +course. + +Angus maintained grim silence, repressing a strong desire to speak his +mind. He recognized that the boy was becoming increasingly impatient of +his authority, and desired to avoid a clash. As he let things go, Turkey +took more and more rope. Angus learned accidentally that he consorted +with a number of men older than himself, of whom Garland and Blake +French were leading spirits. He knew that this was no company for the +boy, but as reference to it would inevitably lead to unpleasantness, he +put it off. But Turkey's deliberate slacking of work, just when it was +most necessary, got on his nerves to an extent greater than he knew. + +It was necessary to explain to Mr. Braden that he was unable to meet the +mortgage payments. To his relief, the mortgagee made no difficulty about +it. Indeed he was most genial. + +"I heard you had been hit by the hail," he said. "Well, well, these +things will happen, and I am not a harsh creditor. I will carry you +along." + +"That's very good of you," Angus acknowledged. "I am doing considerable +breaking, and next year, if I don't bump into more hard luck, I'll be +able to make a good payment." + +Mr. Braden nodded. "Meanwhile there is something you can do for me. I am +selling a piece of land to young Chetwood--about five hundred acres--but +before closing the deal he wants your opinion of it." + +Angus had not seen Chetwood for nearly a fortnight. He had not +introduced him to Mr. Braden, but it appeared that they had become +acquainted otherwise. + +"Do I know the land?" he asked. + +"I think so. It's about five miles from your ranch, on Canon Creek. +There is a little cleared, and an old shack, but otherwise it is mostly +unimproved. A splendid opportunity for an energetic young man to build +up an excellent ranch." + +"Do you mean the old Tetreau place?" This was a piece of land long since +abandoned by a man of that name. + +"Why--er--yes, I believe that is what it is called," Mr. Braden replied. +"It's good, level land--most of it. I am offering it at a very low +figure--all things considered--twenty dollars." + +"And I particularly want this deal to go through," he concluded. "I +should not mind paying you a little commission, my boy--say five per +cent. + +"I couldn't take a commission from you for valuing land for a buyer." + +"Nonsense! Done every day. I might--er--stretch it a little. You are not +to worry about that note of yours and the mortgage money, my boy. One +good turn deserves another, hey?" + +"I know the place," Angus said, "but I never thought of putting a value +on it. How about water?" + +"Tetreau had a record of eight hundred inches on Canon Creek. That goes +with the place. And there's a good spring creek." + +"That little spring wouldn't irrigate more than a few acres," Angus +objected. "Seems to me I heard the old man quit because he couldn't +bring water from the main creek." + +Mr. Braden frowned. "Nonsense! Plenty of water. Tetreau was too lazy to +run a ditch, that's all. Lots of water. Never mind that. The main thing +is the land, which is good. I'll depend on you for a good report, and +I'll tell Chetwood to run out and see you." + +Angus rode home, none too well pleased with the prospect. He could just +remember Felix Tetreau, a stooped old Frenchman, and he had a vague +recollection that the latter had given up the place after a vain attempt +to make water run up hill. But it was possible that he had been wrong in +his levels, or, as Mr. Braden had suggested, too lazy to put in a ditch. +Anyway, he had gone years before, and it appeared that Mr. Braden who +owned a big block of land in that vicinity, had acquired his holding. +The clearing had grown back to wild, which as there had not been much of +it, mattered the less. But the question of water mattered a great deal. + +For in that district water was a _sine qua non_. Angus was no victim of +the dry-farming delusion. Water and plenty of it, was essential in most +years to grow paying crops. Therefore the value of the land, no matter +what the quality of the soil, was conditional upon whether water could +be brought upon it. It was that question which, in spite of Mr. Braden's +airy dismissal, must be investigated in justice to Chetwood. Therefore +when the latter came to the ranch, Angus took with them a hand level. + +The land in question lay close to the foothills, and back of it a small, +round mountain rose, but this was evidently not part of the parcel. The +soil was a dark, sandy loam, which would give good result if properly +fed, watered and cultivated. Angus pointed out these facts to the +prospective buyer. + +"Then you think it a good investment?" Chetwood queried. + +"I did not say just that," Angus replied. "You have to add the cost of +clearing to your purchase price. Then there will be your buildings and +fencing and ditches. You have to figure on raising enough to pay +interest on your total investment, and wages as well." + +"I meant to ask you about the price. Is it fair, or shall I jew old +Braden down a bit? Fancy I could, you know." + +"The price is high--as land sells," Angus told him. "You can get good, +wild land now for ten dollars an acre. Five years ago you could have got +it for two dollars, and five years before that for fifty cents." + +Chetwood whistled. "In the noble language of the country, I was about to +be stung." + +"Well," Angus explained, "if land values keep climbing, it might be a +good investment, after all. I would not say it might not be. But you can +buy just as good land cheaper." + +"Then why does Braden ask so much?" + +"I suppose he thinks he can get it." + +Chetwood grinned. "In the terse vernacular of the land, 'I get you, +Steve.' Shall I offer him ten dollars?" + +"That would depend on the water supply." + +"Oh, that's absolutely all right. I've seen the government certificate. +Eight hundred miners' inches. That's ample, what?" + +"Yes--if you can get it on the land." + +"But surely that sort of thing was looked into long ago, when the record +was made." + +Angus shook his head. "A water record isn't a guarantee of water. It's +merely a right to take it if you can get it. Water is one thing you +can't take for granted. We have time to run a line to the creek, and see +where we come out. As for the spring here, it wouldn't water more than +ten acres or so." + +There is nothing more deceptive, even to the trained eye, than levels in +a broken country. The unaided eye can tell nothing about them. To all +appearances, in many places, water runs up hill. Nothing but the level +can prove whether it can be brought upon any given area. + +Starting from the upper end of the block they began to take sights. The +distance to the creek was further than Angus had supposed. They ran into +a broken country where the ground was rocky and less adapted to +ditching. There were sidehills, which are dangerous because they have an +annoying habit of sliding when water-soaked, and gulches which would +necessitate fluming. All the time they drew nearer and nearer to the +base of the round mountain. Unless the line could run around the lower +foot of it the way was barred to water. And finally the line ran into +the base of the hill. There was no going around it. It definitely +settled the question of water. The land, then, was non-irrigable. + +"I wonder if that old blighter, Braden, knew this?" Chetwood speculated. + +"He might not," Angus replied, though he had his own ideas on the +subject. + +"And then again he might," Chetwood grinned. "_Caveat emptor_, and all +that sort of thing. I'm awfully obliged to you, you know." + +"That is all right." + +"Left to myself I might have bought." He hesitated. "I wish there were +some way for me to show my appreciation." + +"Any one who knew the country would have told you the same thing." + +"I'm not so sure of that. For instance, there is a rancher named +Poole--know him?" + +"Yes," Angus returned, for Poole to whom Braden had once purposed +renting the Mackay ranch, had now some sort of place on the other side +of town. + +"Well, friend Braden, when I spoke of getting the opinion of some +practical rancher, suggested Poole. Took a look at Poole, and thought +I'd rather have you. Braden didn't seem to take kindly to my +counter-suggestion, which naturally confirmed me in it. It's a sound +system to play the game your opponent doesn't like. I'll tell the old +blighter you didn't recommend the buy." + +"That will be the truth." + +Chetwood glanced at him keenly. + +"I say," he exclaimed, "I don't wish to seem impertinent, but is there +any personal reason why I should let Braden suppose I am doing this on +my own?" + +Angus hesitated. "I owe him more money than I can pay just now," he +said, "but you may tell him what you like." + +"Oh, thunder!" Chetwood ejaculated. "I'm afraid I've let you in for +something. I'll say we never mentioned water, and quite on my own I'll +tell him I must have an engineer's report on that." + +But perhaps Chetwood did not tell his story convincingly. Or perhaps Mr. +Braden was too old a bird. At any rate, when he next saw Angus he asked +him what he had told Chetwood. Angus replied bluntly. Whereupon, Mr. +Braden in high indignation accused him of blocking the sale. + +"I merely told him what is so," Angus said. + +"You brought up the water question yourself." + +"Land is no good without water. You know that as well as I do." + +"I don't admit that water can't be got on this land. Now, see here, I'm +going to have a surveyor run the line of a ditch, and I want you to tell +Chetwood you were mistaken in your levels. Understand?" + +"If you can show me I'm mistaken, I'll be glad to tell him. But I'm +certain of them. I've checked them up since." + +"Dammit!" Mr. Braden exploded angrily, "do you know I hold a mortgage on +your ranch? Do you know I hold your note? Hey?" + +Angus stared at him for a moment, his black brows drawing down, his eyes +narrowing. "And what has that got to do with the levels of this land?" +he asked with disconcerting directness. + +But Mr. Braden shirked the show-down. + +"Do with it, do with it!" he sputtered. "Oh, not a thing, not a damned +thing, of course. You were my agent to conclude this sale, and you threw +me down." + +"I wasn't your agent. I was acting for Chetwood." + +"You were to get a commission from me." + +"I told you I couldn't take one." + +"Well, you won't get one," Mr. Braden snapped. "Levels! What do you know +about levels? I'll get somebody that does." + +But for some reason Mr. Braden did not do so. + +It was nearly a week after this interview, that old Paul Sam rode up on +his paint pony, leading Chief. + +"Me sell um cooley kuitan," he announced. + +"Who bought him?" Angus asked. For answer the old Indian drew forth from +the recesses of his garment a slip of paper, which he handed to Angus. +The latter read: + + "Dear Mackay: I want you to let me have the pleasure of + presenting a good horse with a good owner. This, not by way of + payment for the service you did me, but in token of my + appreciation of kindness to a pilgrim and a stranger here. Am + leaving for a few weeks, and will look you up on my return. + Faithfully, + + "E. W. F. CHETWOOD. + + "P. S.--Don't be a bally ass. Keep the horse." + +From this surprising letter Angus lifted his eyes to the big chestnut. +As he did so he realized that he had wanted him very badly. He took the +lead rope from the old Indian. + +"All right, Paul Sam," he said. "Thanks for bringing him over. Put your +cayuse in the stable and come up to the house and have some muckamuck." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A FIGHT WITH A GRIZZLY + + +Now, though Angus was working hard under pressure, the hard part of it +was not the work but the things he wanted to do and could not. Though he +plugged away steadily at his tasks, his thoughts were not of them, but +of lonely trails, and steep hills, and deep timber, and the surging +waters tumbling down in nameless creeks from hoary old glaciers; and he +would have given all he owned if he could with a clear conscience have +quit the ranch work and taken a holiday. But as he could not, he worked +on grimly. + +Occasionally, however, he rode the range after stock, and on these +occasions he carried a rifle, on the chance of getting a shot at a deer. +Invariably now he rode Chief, who was becoming a most dependable saddle +horse. And so one bright fall morning he rode along the foothills to +find, if he could, a small bunch of cattle which he himself had not seen +since Spring. + +Shortly after mid-day he found himself near the site of an old logging +camp, where several creeks united to form a muskeg, and at the foot of +it a little lake. Out of the lake a larger creek ran, and across it +stood the old camp buildings, now worn and weatherbeaten and roofless. +The banks were steeply cut and the old pole bridge was rotten. Therefore +Angus put Chief on a rope where the grazing was good, and taking his +lunch and rifle, crossed the creek, intending to eat beside an excellent +spring which was better than the creek water. + +He leaned his rifle against one end of the ancient bunkhouse, went the +length of it, turned the corner, and came full upon a huge, old-man +grizzly. + +[Illustration: _He turned the corner, and came full upon a huge, old-man +grizzly._] + +The bear had been digging at a rotten stump, which strewed the ground in +fragments, and the brawl of the creek had drowned whatever noise Angus +had made. Thus it was a case of mutual surprise. As Angus turned the +corner the bear's senses brought him warning. He turned his great, flat +head, and at sight of the intruder his mane roached and bristled, and he +swung about with unbelievable quickness. Being more or less penned by +the wall of the eating camp and an old pole fence, he probably believed +himself cornered. He half rose, with a snort, and his fierce, little +eyes lit with a green flare. + +Angus had had no first-hand experience with grizzlies, though he had +seen them at a distance. Nevertheless, he knew a good deal about them +from men who had, and his information amounted to this: The ordinary +grizzly will run if he can; but if he is wounded or believes himself +cornered, there is no telling just what he will do. Also there are "bad" +bears, just as there are "bad" bulls or stallions. + +The bear was a complete surprise to Angus. He was so close that he could +almost smell him, could see the little pieces of rotten, wet wood and +slaver on his jaws, the red of his mouth and the white of his tusks all +speckled with dirt from his grubbing. For a moment his heart almost +stopped beating, his hair prickled, and stood on end, and his knees +knocked together. For an instant he stood frozen in his tracks, and then +as he saw the great brown bulk gather itself he came to life and action. +With an involuntary yell he leaped into the air like a scared lynx, +turned and hit the ground running. + +Behind him he heard a short, coughing roar, and it nearly doubled the +stretch of his stride. He made the length of the bunkhouse, turned it +and grabbed for his rifle. But his fingers merely brushed the barrel and +knocked it down. There was no time to pick it up. He doubled the next +corner like a rabbit and after him came the grizzly, with most infernal +persistence. + +For a short distance a grizzly is as fast as a good pony, and all that +had saved Angus was dodging around corners. But that could not go on +indefinitely. The walls of the roofless bunkhouse were of logs, closely +mortised, but inside he knew there were the remains of some old, +double-decked bunks. It was taking a chance, but he ducked through the +door opening, scrambled up on the bunks, the old poles crashing beneath +him, and straddled the top log just in time to escape the swipe of a +steel-garnished paw which actually brushed his leg. + +From this strategic position, rather out of breath and somewhat shaky, +he looked down at the grizzly, and the bear looked up at him, rumbling +and grumbling to himself, his wicked, little eyes burning with unholy +lights. He was a big bear, shaggy and rough, with a sprinkle of gray in +his mane, and there was no doubt that he was annoyed. As a beginning he +knocked a bunk to pieces with one lift and bat of a paw, and rearing he +reached for Angus. Luckily the wall was high, and the big claws raked +bark and slivers below him. Not being able to reach his enemy, the bear +dropped back with a grunt, and stood swinging to and fro gently. + +It occurred to Angus that he might drop over the wall, get his rifle and +call for a show-down, but as he waited to get back some of his breath +and steadiness, meanwhile hitching along the wall to get closer to the +gun, the bear shambled through the door. He trotted around the +bunkhouse, and coming to the rifle sniffed at it and took a wide circle. +Perhaps he knew the smell of steel, and suspected a trap. But after +prowling up and down for a few minutes eying the treed man, he did not +go away, which was quite contrary to what Angus had heard of the habits +of bears under similar circumstances. He lay down like a dog, apparently +prepared to camp there indefinitely. + +From where Angus sat he could see Chief, standing hip-shot and half +asleep, quite unconscious of the bear, and he was glad that the latter +was equally unconscious of the horse, for he seemed full of racial +prejudice against man and his possessions. All Angus could do was wait +it out. An hour passed, and he grew weary of his position, and indignant +at being forced to lie along a log like a lizard by a low-grade +proposition like a bear. He tore off bark and pelted him with it. The +grizzly merely eyed him evilly and sniffed at what he threw; so Angus +gave it up, and more time passed. + +In spite of his position the sun and wind made him sleepy. Perhaps he +dozed. He had seen and heard nothing. But suddenly as he turned his head +he saw a girl a few yards away from the old eating-camp. + +For a moment Angus did not believe his eyes. It seemed one of those +vague visions which flit across the mental retina in that dim shadowland +between wakefulness and slumber. She was looking down into the finder of +a camera, while back of her, reins lying on its neck instead of a-trail, +stood a pony. She was tall and straight, and a crown of hair shone to +the slope of the afternoon's sun, for she was using a pony hat to shield +the camera's lens. + +Angus gaped and blinked, and then he knew it was no dream vision, but +real flesh and blood. Just then she got her picture and took a step or +two in his direction, winding up the film. + +"Hi!" Angus hailed, "don't come here. Get on your pony, quick." + +Being very much in earnest, voice and words were harsh, peremptory. The +girl stopped short and looked around. Then for the first time she saw +him perched on the wall. + +"I beg your pardon!" she said, her voice carrying clear and full, a +touch of hauteur in her tone answering the harshness of Angus' command. +"I'm not to come there, you say. Why not?" Her chin lifted as she spoke +and she took another step forward. + +"Bear!" Angus returned. "Get back, I tell you. I'm treed by a bad +grizzly. Get on your pony and pull out before he sees you." + +The girl stopped. "Do you mean that?" she demanded incredulously. + +"Do I mean it?" Angus yelled, exasperated by her delay and frightened at +her very real danger. "Get a move on you, woman, if you have any sense! +He hears you now!" + +His tone left no doubt of his sincerity, and the girl, turning, ran +toward her pony. But the animal, not being anchored by the reins, sidled +away at her swift approach. + +"Hurry up!" Angus shouted, for the big savage below him, hearing another +voice, was bristling afresh and suddenly started around the corner of +the building to investigate. Just then the pony either sighted or smelt +the bear, for he snorted, wheeled and broke into a gallop. "Run!" Angus +yelled. "Get behind that eating-camp. Try to climb it, quick!" And not +having time for more words he dropped from his perch, lit sprawling +alongside his rifle, seized it, and jumped around the corner into the +open in the wake of the grizzly, his hand hooked into the lever, while a +long soft-nose snicked home in the chamber. + +The girl, now fully alive to her danger, was running for the corner of +the eating camp, and the grizzly, halfway between, was after her. So +much Angus saw at a glance, and then he caught the lumbering but swift +bulk fair center with the bead, and unhooked. + +With the high-pitched, smacking voice of the rifle mingled the roar of +the wounded grizzly. He went heels over head like a shot rabbit, came on +his feet again facing the gun, took a second bullet as if it had been a +pellet of bird-shot, and coughing out a fighting roar that seemed to +hold all the bestial ferocity of the ages, came for Angus like a furry +tornado. + +There is this about a grizzly which entitles him to respect: When he +charges, he charges home. This fact Angus knew very well. The bear was a +scant forty yards away. Angus caught the center of him with his sights, +and began to pump steadily. His entire attention was concentrated on +holding the sights, and otherwise the gun seemed to shoot itself. +Missing was next to impossible at that range, but so also was choice of +aim. "When anything's comin' for you close up," Rennie had once advised +him, "don't try to hit nowhere's special, but just hold plum' center and +keep shootin'." While Angus did not consciously remember this advice, he +followed it, with a dull wonder that the stream of soft-noses tearing +through the great brute's vitals did not stop him. His last shot was +fired at ten feet, and the hammer clicked down on an empty chamber. As +the brown bulk hurled itself upon him, he lunged the rifle barrel with +all his force into the yawning, white-tusked, red mouth. But as he tried +to leap aside a huge paw blurred for an instant before his eyes and then +blotted out the world. He went down, crushed and smothered as by the +weight of mountains. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FAITH WINTON TURNS UP + + +Angus came out of the darkness slowly with the weight still upon him. +There was a strange, salt taste in his mouth and a rank smell in his +nostrils. His head seemed pillowed, but his eyelids were gummed, and +when he threw up his hand to clear them his fingers touched wetness. +Then through a raw, red fog he saw a girl's face bending above him, and +blue eyes that seemed misty as an April sky through showers, though +perhaps it was only his uncertain vision that made them so. + +"Please say something--if you can hear me!" said a low, clear voice as +his senses came back fully. + +"All right," he said. "I'm all right, I guess. What's holding me? What's +on me?" + +As his eyes shifted downward, a huge mound of brown fur rose against +them, hiding the landscape. It was the carcass of the bear which lay +across his legs, burying them from the waist down. + +"I can't move it," the girl told him. "Oh, are you badly hurt? Can you +take a drink of water? I'll lift your head!" She spoke all in a breath, +tremulously, for she had considered him almost a dead man. She lifted +his head from where it lay in her lap, and held an old tin can full of +spring water to his lips. + +Angus drank and felt better. + +"I don't think I'm hurt much," he said. "Where is all the blood coming +from?" He put his hand to his head, touching gingerly a four-inch rip in +his scalp. There was a pain in his side which was worse when he moved, +but he said nothing about that and otherwise he could find nothing +wrong. + +"You must get out from under that brute," the girl told him. "I've tried +to pull it off, and I've tried to pull you out, but I'm not strong +enough." + +She stooped behind him, her hands beneath his shoulders, and he drew his +legs clear of the weight. When he got to his feet he was giddy for a +moment and leaned against her for support. With her assistance he got to +the spring, and washed off the coagulated blood, while she made a +bandage of their handkerchiefs and fitted it deftly. The icy water +cleared away the last of the fog, and save for a growing stiffness and +soreness he felt well enough. He looked at the girl who sat beside him +on the brown grass and wondered who she was and where on earth she had +come from. + +The girl was tall, and clean and graceful as a young pine. She carried +her head well lifted, which Angus considered a good sign in horses and +human beings. A mass of fair hair was coiled low at the base of it and +drawn smoothly back from a broad forehead. Her eyes were a clear blue +which reminded Angus of certain mountain lakes, and yet a little weary +and troubled as if some shadow overcast them. Her smooth cheeks, too, +were pale, with but little of the color that comes from the kiss of wind +and sun. She was an utter stranger to him, and yet there was something +vaguely familiar. + +The fact was that he was staring at her. She met his gaze evenly. + +"Do you know that you are lucky not to be badly hurt?" she said. + +"It would have served me right if I had been." + +"Why?" + +"For leaving my rifle in the first place, and for rotten shooting in the +second," he replied seriously. "I should have stopped him, and so I +would if I had taken my time about it. I guess I got rattled." + +"Is that your trouble?" she laughed. "The bear is simply riddled with +bullets." + +"Is that so?" he returned with obvious pleasure. "Tell me what +happened." + +"I stopped running when you fired the first shot," she said. "You and +the bear seemed to go down together, and he rolled clean over you. It +was only in his last flurry that he threw himself across your legs." + +"Lucky he didn't claw me up in that flurry. He was a tough old boy." + +"If you had been killed it would have been my fault," she said +seriously. "You were quite safe, and you attacked him to save me." + +"I would have come down, anyway, the first chance he gave me to get hold +of my rifle." + +"It was stupid of me," she persisted. "At first, you see, I couldn't +believe there was a bear. I thought you were trying to frighten me. And +then I just _couldn't_ catch that pony. I'm not used to horses, I'm +afraid." + +Now, as she spoke, something in her voice struck a chord in Angus' +recollection. Where had he heard that faint lisp, that slurring of the +sibilants? For a moment he puzzled, groping for an elusive memory. And +then suddenly it leaped at him out of the one day, years before, whose +happenings, even the least of them, he never forgot. And he saw a little +girl, frightened but trying to be brave, and a lanky boy confronting her +with a rifle. + +"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, "you are little Faith Winton!" + +She frowned, drawing herself up a little. + +"I am Faith Winton, but how do you know? Have I ever--" She broke off, +staring at him. "Why, it's impossible. You can't be _that_ boy!" + +"I used to be," he told her. "I've grown a little, since." + +"Angus! Angus Mackay!" she cried, her face lighting swiftly. "Oh, I know +you now. I've never forgotten. And your sister's doughnuts! How good +they were, and how good you were to me!" She leaned forward, catching +his great, brown, work-hardened paws in her slim hands. "Oh, I'm so glad +to see you again, Ang--I mean Mr. Mackay." + +"My name is still Angus." + +"Oh, but that was years ago. How did you recognize me? I was such a +little girl. To think of meeting you again--like this!" + +"I knew you by your lisp," he told her. "And I wish you would call me +'Angus.'" + +"Well--Anguth!" She said it with the old lisp. "I can't help it +sometimes," she confessed. "I struggle and struggle, and then I forget +myself and--lithp. Do you mind it very much?" + +"I like it." + +"Tho nithe of you to thay tho!" she exaggerated laughing. "No, I won't +lisp any more--until I forget myself. But how big you are--almost as big +as Gavin himself." + +"I am big enough," Angus admitted. "I get in my own way sometimes." For +the first time he noticed a black band on her sleeve. She caught the +glance. + +"My father died two months ago." Her voice broke, and Angus looked away. + +"I am sorry," he said awkwardly. + +"I can't talk about it very well yet," she said. "I didn't mean to. One +shouldn't--to a stranger." + +"But I'm not a stranger. You seem like--well--like an old friend." + +"I'm glad of that," she said, smiling a trifle sadly. "You see, father +and I were always together, and it's new and--and hard to be alone. But +I suppose I shall get used to it after a while." + +"You have your kin here," he ventured. + +"Yes, I have them," she agreed. "But they are not really my kin. And +then I won't be with them very long." + +"You are going away?" For some reason Angus experienced a sensation of +regret. + +"No, I am going to stay here. I am thinking of ranching." + +"Ranching!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes. Why not?" + +"Do you know anything about it?" + +"No, but I could learn, I suppose." + +"I suppose you might. But the work is hard--man's work. I wouldn't buy a +ranch, if I were you." + +"But I have one--or the makings of one. A few years ago Uncle Godfrey +bought nearly a thousand acres for father. I'm afraid there isn't much +of it cleared, and there is no house fit to live in. I had been to look +at it, and was riding back by this old logging camp. That's how I +happened to be here." + +"Where is this land?" Angus asked. + +Her reply gave him almost as much of a shock as he had received from the +bear; for as she described it, the land, or at least part of it, was +none other than the old Tetreau place which Mr. Braden had painstakingly +tried to unload on Chetwood. But if it belonged to her or to her father +how could Braden sell it? And then, again, she had spoken of nearly a +thousand acres, while the old Tetreau place comprised some five hundred +only. Something of his thoughts reflected in his face. + +"Do you know the land?" she asked. + +"Yes, I know it," he admitted. "Have you ever thought of selling the +land instead of ranching it? Has any one ever tried to sell it for you?" + +"Oh, no," she replied. "I don't want to sell it--yet, a while, anyway. +Father's idea was to hold it till land increased very much in value. +Uncle Godfrey told him that was bound to occur. It was an investment, +you see. It cost only ten dollars an acre." + +"You mean your father paid ten thousand dollars for the land!" Angus +exclaimed. + +"Yes, in round figures. He never saw it. Uncle Godfrey said it was well +worth that, and of course he knows." + +There was little that Angus could say. He was no stranger to +wild-catting in lands, but he held to the old idea that agricultural +land is worth what it will grow and no more: a maxim which, if +remembered by prospective purchasers, would cut down both sales and +disappointments. But the puzzling thing was that Godfrey French, who +wasn't an easy mark by any means, should have advised his relative to +pay ten dollars an acre for land half of which was too rough to +cultivate and of which all was non-irrigable; and this at a time when +good, wild land was to be had in plenty for from three to five dollars +an acre. Added to that was the abortive Braden-Chetwood deal. The one +clear thing was that Faith Winton had a bunch of worthless land. He +hoped that it did not represent her entire patrimony. + +"You will find it hard work starting a ranch," he said. "Clearing, +breaking, fencing and so on are expensive, too." + +"But whatever I spend will make the place worth that much more, and then +if I wish to sell I would have a better chance. People always prefer to +buy improved properties, I'm told." + +Angus had neither the heart nor the nerve to tell her the truth. +Everything went to show that her father had been deliberately stung by +Godfrey French. Never in the world would he have paid ten dollars of his +own money for such a property. Had he paid ten dollars of Winton's +money? Angus doubted it. In plain language, his thought was that French +had paid about three dollars an acre, and either pocketed the difference +or split it with the seller. + +"What does your uncle think about it?" he asked. + +"He doesn't want me to try ranching. He says the place is increasing in +value anyway, and that I should not be in a hurry to sell." + +Naturally, thought Angus, that would be French's advice. Perhaps he had +had the handling of the property, and Braden had been acting for him +when trying to sell to Chetwood. If that sale had gone through, half the +property would have been sold for what had been paid for the whole, and +the remainder, worthless or not, would have been velvet. But as it was +French was in a tight box, and the only thing he could do was to advise +the girl to let the place alone, and hope that nothing would occur to +arouse her suspicions. Angus half wished for her sake that he had not +blocked the sale to Chetwood. + +"You see," she said, "I have to do something for a living. I haven't +enough to keep me in idleness, and anyway I don't want to be idle. But I +didn't mean to bother you with my worries. I don't know why it is, but +I find myself talking to you just as frankly as when I was the little, +lost girl and you were the big boy. Perhaps I am a little lost, still. +You--you seem comforting, somehow." She considered for a moment. +"Perhaps it's the bigness of you. But I don't talk to Gavin as I do to +you, and I know him much better. Why is it?" + +"I don't know, but I'm glad of it," Angus told her. "I want to help you +if I can." + +"Now, I believe that's why," she said. "You want to help folks who need +it. That's the secret of it." + +"Nothing of the sort," Angus told her. Suddenly he realized that the sun +was low above the western ranges and that the early fall evening was +coming. "We'll have to be moving if we're to get home by dark," he said. +"To-morrow I'll skin out the bear." + +"Oh--my pony!" she exclaimed. "I never thought of him." + +"No use looking for him. Likely he headed for home. You'll ride my +horse." + +"And let you walk? Indeed, no!" + +"Of course you will." + +"But I won't. You're hurt--" + +"Not a bit," Angus lied cheerfully. + +"Yes, you are. There, you see, you're almost too stiff to walk. I won't +have it, Angus, really I won't." + +Angus did not argue the point further. He was accustomed to having his +own way with girls, or at least with Jean. He was sore and stiff, and +when he first moved a sharp pain in his side made him catch his breath, +but he knew that the best cure for stiffness is movement. They crossed +the creek and he saddled Chief, and without a word began to take up the +stirrups. + +"Angus," said Faith Winton, "I meant what I told you. I rode your pony +years ago, when I was a little, lost girl--" + +"What are you now?" + +"A pedestrian," she said with determination. + +"Now, see," Angus urged. "It's over five miles. Your shoes would be cut +to pieces on the rocks, and you'd be tired out. So you're going to +ride." + +"I'm _not_, Angus! What are you--Oh!" + +For Angus, finding that argument was a waste of time had picked her up +and put her in the saddle. Thence she stared down at him, and now there +was no lack of color in her cheeks. + +"Angus Mackay! What--what do you mean?" + +"You are going to ride," Angus told her with finality, "and that is all +there is to it." + +"I'm not used to being thrown about like a sack of oats!" she flashed, +and would have dismounted, but he stopped her. "How dare you!" she +cried. "Let me down! Take your hands off me, Angus Mackay!" + +"Then behave sensibly!" said Angus. + +"Sensibly! My heavens! do you think I'm a child?" + +"A child would be glad to ride." + +"Do you think you can make me do things merely because you're stronger?" + +"Yes," Angus told her flatly, "some things. This, for one." + +"Admitting that--you're brutal!" + +"And admitting that," Angus returned, "will you act like a sensible +girl?" + +For a moment she frowned at him, her eyes stormy, dark with anger. And +then, slowly, she bent low over the saddle horn, and turned her face +away, while a sob shook her slight figure. At which awful spectacle +Angus' resolution suddenly melted to contrition. + +"Don't do that!" he pleaded. "Don't cry. I didn't mean it. Come on and +walk. Walk all you like. Walk a lot. I'll help you down." + +She turned her face to him and he gasped; for in place of tears there +was laughter, mocking laughter. + +"You--you fraud!" he exclaimed. + +"You--you bluff!" she retorted. "This was one of the things you could +make me do because you were stronger, was it? Oh, Angus Mackay, what a +soft heart you have in that big body!" + +"It would serve you right if I made you walk!" he told her indignantly. + +"Yes, wouldn't it? But you won't. I'll ride--if you'll promise to tell +me if you get tired." + +And so they went down the old tote road in the wan light of the fall +sunset. + +"It's exactly like that day so many years ago," she said. + +But Angus, though he agreed with her, was privately conscious of a vast +difference. On that far-away day he had considered the little, lost girl +a nuisance and an imposition. Now he felt a strange, warm glow and +thrill as he walked beside her, and a sense of contentment strange to +him. He was conscious of this feeling. But, quite honestly, he +attributed it to the fact that he had just got his first grizzly, and +what was more, centered him, charging, with every shot; which, as he +looked at it, ought to be a source of satisfaction to any properly +constituted man, and adequately explained the sense of contentment +aforesaid. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A TALK WITH JUDGE RILEY + + +Dr. Wilkes investigated the naked torso of Angus Mackay with skilled +fingers. + +"Two ribs cracked," he announced, "and you're lucky at that, young man. +The scalp wound is nothing. The ribs will be all right in a few weeks, +if you give them a chance. Mind, you, Angus, no hard riding, no lifting; +move gently and rest all you can." + +"But the fall work--" Angus began. The doctor cut him short. + +"Work!" he exploded irritably. "There's that word again. By heaven, you +all say it! It's 'I can't go away, doc, I can't take a holiday, I can't +rest. I've got to work.' Lord knows how many times I've heard it, and +from men who wouldn't work a sick or lame horse on a bet. You'd think +health was the least important thing on earth, something to be fixed up +in a day or two with a Blaud's pill. Work is a fine thing to keep folks +out of mischief, but it isn't the chief end of man, and it isn't a +damned fetich that demands human sacrifice. Who'll do your work when +you're dead?" He glared at Angus ferociously beneath shaggy, +red-and-gray brows. + +"Well, I won't worry about that," Angus laughed. "I hope it's a long way +off." + +"It missed your head by about an inch yesterday," Wilkes told him. +"There you stand, over six feet, and nearly two hundred pounds of as +fine bone and sinew and flesh and blood as I've ever seen, every organ +of you, as far as I can tell, as sound as clear pine. And you may be +good for seventy years more--or seventy hours. A long way off! Your +horse steps in a hole, or a team bolts and you happen to fall wrong, or +a little drop of blood clots somewhere. And puff! away you go like a +pinch of dust on the trail, which is exactly what you are. A long way +off! Of all the blasted but blessed cocksureness of youth!" And he +grumbled and growled as he strapped up the injured side. + +But Angus paid little attention to the doctor's homily. From the +latter's office he went to see Judge Riley who, much to everybody's +surprise, had cut his drinking down if not out, and in consequence was +much busier than of old. Before him Angus laid the puzzle of Faith +Winton's property, Godfrey French's connection therewith, and Braden's +attempt to sell part of it. + +"There may be a perfectly good explanation," said the lawyer. "For +instance, there may have been other properties or other transactions +involved. Then as to Braden's attempt to sell to Chetwood, he may have +been acting for French, who may be Winton's executor. In any event, if +half of this land could be sold for as much as was paid for the whole, +nobody but the purchaser would be apt to make subsequent objection." + +"But if French paid only about three dollars for the land and split the +difference with somebody, couldn't Miss Winton claim the difference?" + +"Undoubtedly. But you have no evidence of that. If you like, I'll search +the title and find out who sold the land and what consideration is +stated in the conveyance to Winton. Drop in some time next week." + +Angus waited the week with impatience. Convinced that there had been +crooked work somewhere, he was anxious to get at the facts. Also he +chafed at the comparative inactivity imposed on him by his injured +ribs. + +"Well," said the judge, when Angus sought him again, "I haven't found +out very much. But Braden apparently owns this property." + +"Braden!" Angus exclaimed. + +"Yes, he is the registered owner of a large block of land which seems to +include this. So far as most of the land is concerned, he is the +original grantee. As to the Tetreau land, Tetreau was the original +grantee of that. Five hundred acres was granted to Tetreau, and sold by +him to Braden for an expressed monetary consideration of one thousand +dollars and certain other considerations not specified. When he acquired +that land from Tetreau, Braden then had a compact block, and apparently +he has it still." + +"But there must be a deed to Winton." + +"If so it isn't registered. Braden can convey and give a good registered +title. There is nothing to show any interest of Winton's. Are you sure +this is the property his daughter meant?" + +"From her description, it can't be any other." + +"Then probably there is an unregistered conveyance from Braden to +Winton, or to French as the latter's trustee. As to the price paid, it +may have been high, but it does not prove nor even raise the presumption +of fraud. You can't tell the girl your suspicions, when they are mere +suspicions, especially while she is under French's roof." + +"I believe both Braden and French are crooks. I never liked Braden, but +up to a little while ago, I thought he was straight. And I always +thought old French was a gentleman." + +"So he is." + +"Not if he is a crook." + +"Nonsense!" the judge returned. "Gentlemen have been pirates, outlaws +and highwaymen. A gentleman may be a blackguard, just as a well-bred dog +may be a sheep-killer, or run wild with wolves. It's one word, not two. +It's a name for a breed, not a descriptive term for qualities such as +honesty, courtesy or the like." + +"If a man has those qualities, isn't he a gentleman?" + +"No," said the judge, "though he may be something a good deal better. +I'm as democratic as they make 'em, but it is an undoubted fact that +there are strains of men, just as there are strains of animals. +Considered as a strain of mankind, a gentleman is a gentleman, no matter +how big a rascal he is. The Frenches are all gentlemen--that is, all but +Blake." + +"Why not Blake, if it is a breed?" + +"God knows," the judge replied. "Blake is a full brother to the rest, +but he's not the same breed. He's a throwback to something that crept in +somehow, maybe a century or so ago, when nobody was looking. He has the +body, but not the heart. He is a cur, while the rest are--wolves." He +drummed on his blotter. "In confidence, Angus, I am going to tell you +one or two things: The first is that the Frenches have little or no +money left. They have been going down hill steadily for years. This +horse racing and gambling is not amusement, but their living. Their +ranch is mortgaged for all it will stand, and more. So you see, it's not +likely French could repay the girl, even if we proved he cheated Winton. + +"And now for Braden:" He paused for a moment, and his bushy brows drew +down. "If there is one thing I despise," he said with emphasis, "it is a +hypocrite. More repulsive to me than even sordid crime is hypocrisy, +snivelling righteousness, a lip-and-broadcloth service of the Almighty, +the broad phylacteries of the Pharisee. All my life I have hated such +things. And Braden, mark you, is a hypocrite. Outwardly, he is full of +good works. Your father was deceived in him, and I told him so when he +would have made Braden his executor, but I had merely my own opinion. + +"Well, when your father died, Braden conceived an ingenious plan to get +hold of the ranch, knowing that it would increase in value very much, +eventually. The first step was to get you children off it, to put +somebody else on, to allow the rent to get into arrears, to let the +place run down a little. With the accumulating interest on the mortgage, +ownership would involve a heavy financial burden. Then a straw man would +have made an offer for the place, d'ye understand me? And to get money +for your education and maintenance Braden would have accepted, and to +keep his skirts clean he would have got a court order approving the +sale. Afterward the straw man would have transferred to Braden. Is that +clear to you?" + +Angus nodded, amazed. + +"Also absence from the place would have weaned you youngsters away from +it," the judge continued. "When you came to me for advice I went to +Braden and read his mind to him, and his face told me I had read it +aright. Since then he has hated me for knowing him for what he knows +himself to be. So, in course of time, he laid a trap for me with a +pretended client and monies for a certain investment. The idea was that +the man with whom I was to invest the monies was to deny it, and they +thought they had it arranged so that I could not produce evidence of +what had become of it. But they were wrong. I had evidence, and with a +very little more I'd have had a clear case of conspiracy against them. +However, I fell short of that and let it go. But one thing it did for +me: It showed me that I needed a clear head, and it gave me the will to +fight the habit that had a grip on me. So there's information in +confidence for you, Angus. Now Braden and French are working together. +French and his sons get the confidence of young fellows with more money +than experience, steer them to Braden who sells them land, and the +commissions are split. Perhaps that is what happened in the Winton case. +Only we can't prove it." + +"No," Angus admitted. For the first time he told the judge of the money +he had borrowed from Braden. The old jurist whistled softly. + +"What with that and the mortgage arrears, you are not in good shape, my +boy. If I were you, I should make every effort to get clear as soon as +possible." + +"The hail hit me badly, but next year, with a good crop and all the new +land I have broken, I ought to be able to make a good payment. Then you +think nothing can be done to help Miss Winton?" + +"Braden tried once to find a purchaser for part of it, and he may try +again." The judge's eyes twinkled. "In that case would you consider it +your duty to warn the intending purchaser?" + +Angus grinned, flushing a little. "If it would help Miss Winton I would +consider it my duty to mind my own business." + +"It seems to me about the only chance she has to get back part of the +money," said the judge. "While that chance exists, it is just as well to +say nothing to anybody." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A CRISIS + + +Winter came with the going of the last brigades of the geese. The +sloughs and lakes froze, and the ground hardened to iron, ringing +hollowly beneath hoofs, rumbling dully to wagon wheels. It was cold, but +there was no snow in the valleys, though it lay white well down the +flanks of the ranges. On the benchlands there was nothing to relieve the +dark gloom of the firs, the bareness of the deciduous trees, the +frost-burnt dead of the grasses. + +Angus had seen little of Faith Winton. At the French ranch he felt like +a cat in a strange garret. He had little or nothing in common with the +French boys, and certainly nothing with the young men who made the place +a hang-out. Though old Godfrey French was polite enough, Angus felt or +thought he felt a certain cool contempt. Kathleen was the only one of +the family with whom he was at ease. + +He was now able to ride, and help round up the cattle for the winter. +But to his annoyance there were several head which could not be found. +Again they were steers, beef cattle. As in the case of the others, some +years before, they seemed to have vanished utterly. Rennie was sure they +had been rustled, and again he blamed the Indians. In the end he took +his rifle and an outfit, and Angus knew that very little would escape +his methodical combing. On top of his other hard luck Angus felt the +loss badly. He was going to be very hard run for money. None too +cheerfully he went at the various tasks of snugging up for the winter. + +In these he had little or no assistance from Turkey. The youngster was +absent more than ever, and, one morning when, instead of helping with +fencing, he led out his mare saddled, Angus ventured remonstrance. + +"There are a whole lot of things to do," he observed. + +"No rush," Turkey returned. "Let 'em wait." + +"I am not waiting." + +"Well, I am," Turkey said, his tone suddenly truculent. "I've worked all +summer and fall, and I want some fun. I'm going to have it, too." + +"Perhaps I want some myself," Angus suggested, holding his temper. + +"Oh, you!" Turkey's voice held careless scorn of Angus' desire for +recreation. "Well, if you want it, go and get it. Nobody's stopping you. +And nobody's going to stop me." + +Angus shut his lips grimly over the words which rose to them. He saw his +brother ride away, defiance in the set of his shoulders, and he turned +to his work, bitterness in his heart. That, he reflected sourly, was +what he got for sticking to work. He was the steady, reliable old horse. +Nobody suspected him of a longing for other things. A working machine, +that's what he was. For Jean he did not mind, but for Turkey! Why, in +weeks the boy had made a mere bluff at working, for months he had +slacked. Instead of doing a man's work as he should, he had been barely +earning his grub. In sudden anger Angus sank a staple with a blow which +snapped the hammer handle like a stick of candy. He threw the fragment +from him with a curse. But the action and the oath did not relieve. +Instead of acting as a safety valve, his self-control slipped by that +much. A black mood descended on him and persisted through the day. That +night he ate in glum silence, smoked in silence, and went to bed +without uttering half a dozen words to Gus, who, Turkey not having +returned, was his sole companion. + +He slept badly. In a period of wakefulness he heard the drum hoofs on +the frozen ground and knew that Turkey was coming home at last. Looking +at his watch by the light of a match he saw that it was nearly two +o'clock in the morning. A nice time for a fellow to come home who +expected to do any work the next day. But perhaps Turkey didn't intend +to. + +Turkey took his time putting up his mare. When he entered the house he +tripped over a chair, coming down with a crash. Whereat he swore, and +something in his voice made Angus jump out of bed and light his lamp. +With it in his hand he entered Turkey's room. + +One look confirmed his suspicions. Turkey was more than half drunk. +Angus stared at him in angry amazement, and Turkey stared back, sullen +and defiant, the butt of a cigarette between his lips. + +"Well," he said, "what you lookin' at?" + +"At you," Angus returned. "Who got you drunk?" + +"I ain't drunk," Turkey denied. "If I want a drink I guess I can take it +without asking you." + +"Who were you with?" Angus persisted. + +"None of your dam' business!" Turkey told him flatly. + +Angus hesitated. He felt a strong desire to man-handle his young +brother, but finally he decided against it. He went back to bed, but not +to sleep. His anger struggled with a feeling of responsibility for +Turkey. The boy must not be allowed to make a fool of himself; but he +was difficult to handle. He realized that he himself was the last person +from whom he would take advice, but something had to be done. + +Puzzling over his course he became aware that the room was no longer +dark. It was not the dim light of dawn, but a reddish, reflected glow. +With the realization he bounded from his bed and into the living room. +There the light was brighter, and through a window which faced the +stables he saw a shaft of flame lick high in the air. + +"Gus!" he shouted. "Fire!" + +As he dashed for his room and pulled on trousers and moccasins, he heard +the weight of Gus hit the floor above. Not waiting for him, he ran for +the stables. + +The stable yard and corrals were drenched in a red glare, and smoke and +leaping sheets of flame were driving with a bitter south wind. The stock +in corrals and sheds was bawling; in the stable horses were stamping and +whinnying. For a moment he thought the stable was on fire, but as he +vaulted a five-foot gate, not waiting to open it, he saw that it was not +the stable but the great stack of hay close to it and directly to +wind-ward. + +Nothing could save the stack. The fire had a good hold and the flame +sheets were leaping and smothering in hot smoke with the noise of a +hundred flapping blankets. The fire and the sparks were driving directly +at the stable. Its walls were of peeled logs, which offered little hold +for fire, but its roof was of split shakes and its mow full of hay. + +He threw the doors wide and began to turn the horses loose. But +frightened by the glare and the smoke and the roar and crackle of +flames, they hung back snorting, cowering in their stalls. + +It was no time for half measures. Gus joined him, a fiendish figure in +red flannel underclothes, which he wore day and night all the year +round, for the big Swede had waited only to pull on a pair of +moccasins. With whip and pitchfork they slashed and prodded the animals +out. + +"By the Yumpin' Yudas!" Gus cried, "Ay tank dae stable ban go." + +It looked like it. The flames were reaching and snapping back, and +flying streams of sparks were now driving upon the weather-worn, dry +shakes. If the roof caught, or if a vagrant spark reached the hay with +which the mow was filled, nothing could save it. But Angus was not +inclined to lose his stable without an effort. + +"Get all the horse blankets and wagon covers, soak 'em, and throw 'em up +to me," he ordered. "I'm going up on the roof. Help me with the ladder." + +A ladder hung on the north wall of the stable. Together they shot it up. +Angus grabbed a coil of lash rope and a couple of lariats, and ran up +the ladder. Making the rope fast to the top rung and taking the coil +over his arm he crawled up the steep slope of the roof. As he put his +head over the ridge smoke stung his eyes and bit at his lungs. The pitch +was fairly bubbling from the old shakes on the southern exposure. + +Behind him Gus staggered up the ladder with an armful of dripping horse +blankets which he had soaked in the ditch. Angus ripped off a bit of +loose lining and tied it over his nose and mouth. Then, taking the wet +blankets on one arm and a turn of rope around the other, he drew a full +breath of good air and went over the ridge into the smoke and flying red +cinders. + +Down close to the eaves he saw a little, blue flame start and die, and +start again and live. He went down, his body at right angles to the +pitch of the roof against the pull of the rope, and spread a dripping +blanket on it. As he did so a big fluff of burning hay lit above him. +He extinguished that. Little, creeping lizards of fire began to glow, +and he beat them out and yelled for more blankets. The moisture was +being sucked from his body, his eyes stabbed with pain and his lungs +ached. Sparks clung to him and burned through to the skin, the heat of +the roof struck through the soles of his moccasins. The little, creeping +flames, starting everywhere, seemed personal enemies, and he beat upon +them with wet blankets, and stamped upon them and croaked curses at +them. Then Gus was beside him, a very welcome demon in his red garments, +working like a maniac and swearing strange oaths. Together they kept the +roof till the heat lessened, and the tongues and sheets of flame snapped +no more in their faces, and blackened and gray ashes instead of red +cinders powdered them, and where Angus' fine stack of bright hay had +been was a red and glowing heap. + +They came down from the roof and drank deeply from the running ditch, +and the cold wind striking their overheated bodies through burnt and +insufficient clothing, cut to the bone. + +In the house, changing his burnt garments for warm clothes, Angus for +the first time thought of his brother and looked into his room. The boy +slept. He had known nothing of the fire. + +"By Yimminy, dat kid sleep like a mudsill," Gus commented. "Ay holler at +him when Ay go out, too." + +"Let him sleep," Angus said. "Come on and get the horses into the stable +again." + +He spoke quietly, but there was bitter anger in his heart. It was bad +enough that Turkey should lie in drunken slumber; but far worse than +that he was the last person who had been near the stable and stack. +Neither Angus nor Gus had been out of the house for five or six hours +before the fire. As they put the horses back Angus found Turkey's mare's +manger full of hay. Drunk or sober the boy would look after the animal's +needs. But to get hay he had either to fork it down from the mow or get +it from the stack. As the mow was dark, with a ladder to climb, there +wasn't much doubt that he had got it from the latter. Then at the stack +he had either dropped the butt of a cigarette or the end of a match. +There was no doubt in Angus' mind as to the origin of the fire. + +But as was his custom, he kept his thoughts to himself. He sent Gus to +the house to get what sleep he could, and he remained on guard against +chances from stray sparks. + +As he stared at the heap of black and gray and red which had been his +stack his anger hardened. In the heart of the heap he seemed to see the +fields where the hay had grown, green and tender in the spring, laced +with the silver threads of irrigation waters; and lush and high and +waving in the summer winds, tipped and tinged with the pink and red of +clover and alfalfa and the purple bloom of timothy. He thought of the +labor that had gone into it--the careful irrigation, the mowing, the +raking, the hauling, the stacking--all to the end that the stock should +be full-bellied and fat-clad against the cold and snow that shrinks +ill-nourished stock to racks of hide-tied bone. He looked ahead--two +months, three--and he could hear the hunger-bawling of the cattle +clustered by the corral bars, and see them hump-backed and lean and +shivering, and weak and dying of cold and hunger. He could see their +eyes, looking to him for the food man should provide. + +Unless he would see that picture become grim reality he must buy feed, +and he had no money to spare. His straw was quite insufficient to +winter his stock on. Then he had counted on selling some of the hay. It +all meant that his debt must be increased. In the breath of the fire the +fruits of his hard work had been wiped out. As he thought of all these +things he was filled with bitterness against his brother. + +When dawn came and all danger was over he went in to breakfast. Turkey +still slept. Angus let him slumber, and going to the workshop went to +work repairing a set of sleighs. + +He had worked for an hour or more when Turkey emerged from the house, +his hands in his pockets, his back hunched. At first he did not notice +the absence of the stack. When he did, being almost at the stable, he +stopped short, staring at the black heap, at the frozen blankets and +covers hanging on the fence. He entered the stable, came out again, and +hearing Angus' hammering, made for the workshop. As he came in Angus saw +that his mouth was set, his face flushed, his brow scowling. + +"Say--" he began and stopped. "Say--" + +"Well?" Angus returned, coldly. + +"The stack!" + +"You can see for yourself, can't you?" + +"Why didn't you call me?" + +"You'd have been a lot of use!" + +The boy flushed darkly. + +"What started it?" + +"You ought to know," Angus replied, "whether you do or not." + +"What do you mean?" Turkey cried. + +"I mean that you started the fire yourself." + +"What?" Turkey exclaimed. "I didn't! What do you take me for?" + +"Where did you get the hay to fill Dolly's manger?" + +"From the stack," Turkey admitted. + +"I thought so. And you dropped a butt or a match. Nobody else had been +near there for hours." + +"I didn't. I didn't light a cigarette till after I came out of the +stable." + +"I don't think you know what you did. The stack is gone. We have to buy +feed now, and we haven't the money to pay for it." + +"That's not my fault," Turkey asseverated. "I won't be blamed for what I +didn't do." + +"No," Angus returned grimly, "but for what you did do." + +"If you say I started that fire you're a ---- liar!" Turkey flared. + +Angus looked at him with narrowing eyes. + +"You had better go slow, Turkey," he warned. "I don't feel like taking +much from anybody this morning. And I'll take less from you than +anybody." + +"Then don't say I started that fire!" Turkey cried "The hay was mine as +well as yours. You act as if you were boss here, and I won't stand for +it any longer." + +Under ordinary circumstances Angus would have let that go. But now he +was sore and worried and angry. He had worked hard, denied himself a +good deal to hold the ranch together and make a living for them all. It +seemed that a show-down had to come and he was ready for it. + +"We may as well settle this now," he said. "I am boss. I mean to stay +boss, and while you're on this ranch you'll toe the mark after this, +understand?" + +"Is that so?" Turkey sneered. + +"It is so," Angus repeated. "Let me tell you something: I've given you +the easy end right along, and you haven't held up even that. You've +shirked and loafed every chance you've had. This has got to stop. And +there will be no more of this coming in at all hours of night." + +"I'll come in when I like and go where I like," Turkey declared +defiantly, "and I'd like to see you stop me." + +"You will see it," Angus told him grimly. "You ought to be ashamed of +yourself. You've burnt up our stack--" + +"You're a liar!" Turkey cried hotly. "Don't you tell me that again!" + +"Tell you again!" Angus said contemptuously. "I'll not only tell you +again, but for two pins I'd hand you something to make you remember it." + +"Then fly at it!" Turkey cried, and struck him in the face. + +For an instant Angus was so surprised that he did nothing at all. Then, +taking another blow, he caught his brother by wrist and shoulder and +slammed him back against the wall with a force which shook the frame +building. He was white-hot with anger, and all that restrained him was +fear--fear that if he once lost grip of himself he would go too far. As +he held the boy pinned and helpless he fought his fight and won it. His +grip relaxed and he stepped back. + +"Don't ever do that again, Turkey," he said quietly. + +Turkey, freed, stared at him. "I called you a liar and hit you twice." + +"I know it," Angus returned impatiently. "And I could beat you to a +froth, and you know it. I don't want to start--the way I'm feeling. +That's all." + +"Then I'm sorry I hit you," Turkey conceded. "But all the same, I didn't +fire the stack." + +"We won't talk about it." + +"Yes, we will. If you think I did, I'm pulling out." + +"You'll do as you please," Angus said coldly. "You'll come back mighty +soon." + +"Don't fool yourself," Turkey retorted. "I'm sick of this dam' place, +and working day in and day out." + +"I've told you what I think of your work. If you're sick of it I'm just +as sick of coddling you along. Can't you get it through your head that +you're almost a man?" + +"Yes," Turkey returned, "and I'm going where I'll be treated like one." + +"Then you'll have to change a lot," Angus informed him. "When you behave +like one you'll be treated like one, here or anywhere else. Till you do +that, you won't. And here it is cold for you, Turkey, with no trimmings: +You may go to the devil if you like; but you can't stay on this ranch +and do it, because I won't stand for it." + +And so, at last, the issue between the brothers, so long pending, lay +clear and sharply defined. There was no middle course. For a long minute +they looked each other in the face. Then said Turkey: + +"You and the ranch can go to hell!" + +He turned on his heel and went to the house whence, a few minutes later, +he emerged wearing wool chaps and a heavy mackinaw. In one hand he +carried his pet rifle; in the other a canvas warbag. He went into the +stable and presently led out his mare, saddled. Then he jogged away +without a glance in Angus' direction. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +CHRISTMAS AT THE FRENCHES + + +On Christmas Day, Angus and Rennie found themselves alone on the ranch. +Gus had gone to town, which meant that he would be drunk for some days. +Turkey had not returned since he rode away, nor had Angus seen him, +though he had learned that he was helping Garland to round up a drive or +two of cattle and would probably feed a bunch through the winter for a +grubstake. + +The weather had turned mild. The day was warm as October, and the frost +was coming out of the ground, for still there was no snow. Rennie was +busy with preparations for an elaborate night dinner, but Angus was +restless. + +"I think I'll go out and look for that old buckskin cayuse," he said. + +"He ain't worth lookin' for," Rennie returned; "but if you go, you +better pack that old buffler coat." + +But Angus did not take the old buffalo riding coat which had been his +father's. He got into a pair of leather chaps and tied a mackinaw on the +saddle. + +The big horse wanted to go, and Angus let him. When he left the road it +was to follow cattle trails, on which Chief sailed smoothly. Now and +then he pulled up to listen for bells, but the buckskin was merely an +excuse. He was an old sinner, with a habit of staying out as long as he +could rustle feed. When Angus ran across him at last, late in the +afternoon, he was with a band of half-wild, disreputable friends, from +whom he had no intention of being separated. They knew every foot of +every trail in a badly broken country, and Chief, though sure-footed, +was not a stock horse. The continued twists and turns and brush worried +him. He could not use his speed, and not knowing exactly what was +expected of him, began to fret. After an hour of fruitless chase Angus +gave it up and looked around to get his bearings. + +He found himself up under a mountain in a rough country some fifteen +miles from home. The sun was gone; and all over the north and west and +overhead the sky was blue-black, trimmed with dirty gray. As he sat +breathing Chief he could hear a far-off straining and sighing. A gust of +cold wind drove past, and borne with it were white flakes. + +Angus needed nobody to interpret these signs, and he cursed the buckskin +and his own carelessness in neglecting to watch sun and sky. Real winter +was opening with a blizzard, and from all indications it was going to be +the real thing. + +In five minutes the snowflakes had become a white blur. He could not see +fifty yards ahead. Trails vanished. Landmarks were invisible. The air +was full of drifting white. It was as if one had suddenly gone nearly +blind, unable to see beyond a short radius. No man could hold a course +with certainty. Constantly it grew colder, and the light began to fail. + +Riding fast in the growing darkness was impossible. The cold began to +nip his fingers through his light buckskin gloves, and his toes, for he +was wearing leather boots and but a single pair of socks. He steered a +general downhill course which he knew in time must intersect a wagon +trail which led past the French ranch and thence home. The trouble was +that in the darkness he might cross it. In that event it would be a case +of spending the night out. + +It grew utterly dark, save for a certain dim light which the snow seemed +to hold. Warned by a growing numbness in his feet Angus dismounted and +stamped the blood back into them. He decided that it must be below zero. +On the brows of the benches the wind was bitter. + +Just as he decided that he must have passed it, he came on the wagon +trail. He mounted and gave Chief his head. But once more his feet began +to numb. Again he got down and stamped the circulation going, but as +soon as he began to ride again they numbed. To take off boots and rub +was out of the question, so he sent Chief sailing into the blinding +storm, trusting to luck to keep on the road. + +After several miles of blind riding he saw the far flicker of a light +which he knew must come from the French ranch. He had no wish to intrude +on Christmas night, but he knew that unless he was to have badly frozen +feet he must get to shelter at once. He struck the fence, followed it to +the gate, and turned in. + +The house, when he got close enough to see through the driving snow, was +brightly lighted behind drawn blinds. The chords of a piano came to him, +accompanying a strong, ringing baritone, and as he passed beneath the +window the old, rousing, hunting chorus of "John Peel" crashed out. + +A devil of a time to butt in, Angus reflected grimly, as he led Chief +under the partial shelter of the house. No doubt there was a Christmas +party on. However, it was no night to indulge in pride or shyness. + +He could not leave Chief out in the storm, and an attempt to stable him +himself would probably mean a battle with the dogs which slept in the +stables. He banged on the door, and as no one answered stepped into the +hall. After the temperature outside it seemed tropical, friendly with +the smell of warmth and good tobacco. Being in a hurry, he did not stand +on ceremony, but opened the door to his left just as the last notes of +"John Peel" died. For a moment he blinked in the light like a +storm-driven night bird. + +There were nearly a dozen men besides the Frenches, and among them he +recognized Chetwood. Kathleen was swinging around from the piano, +laughing up at the singers. Tobacco smoke eddied blue around the hanging +lamps. A couple of card tables were going. After the hours of cold and +darkness and the sting of the wind-driven snow, it seemed to Angus +extraordinarily warm and cosy and comforting. + +Kathleen was the first to catch sight of the snow-plastered apparition +in the doorway. + +"Why, Angus!" she exclaimed, springing to her feet. + +"I'm sorry to bother you," Angus said, "but I got caught back on the +range, and my feet are touched a little. If I can put up my horse--" + +But Gavin French rose from his card game. + +"Larry will look after your horse. You come along with me out of this +heat." + +Angus stumped after the blond giant down the hall and into a back +kitchen, where he unlaced his boots while Gavin brought in a dishpan of +snow. + +"Toes and heels," the big man observed as he rubbed briskly. "It's no +night for leather boots. It's close to fifteen below now, and a wind +with it. Feel the blood starting yet?" + +Angus felt the welcome tingle of returning circulation and continued the +rubbing himself, while Gavin brought him his own moccasins and a pair +of heavy woolen socks. As he was putting them on Kathleen entered. + +"If you were caught on the range you haven't had anything to eat. I've +got something ready in the dining room. You can go back to your game, +Gan. I'll look after him." + +"Don't bother about me," Angus said. + +"I'm not. Come along and eat." + +He followed her into the dining room where the table was spread with a +substantial cold meal. She sat down with him. + +"Now, see here," he said, "this is not right. I'm taking you away from +your guests--" + +"You're one of them," she laughed. + +"An unbidden one." + +"But a very welcome one. Don't be silly." + +Angus ate and drank, and the food and hot coffee warmed him through. + +"And now," said Kathleen, "we'll join the festive throng." + +But Angus balked. He was not dressed for such things. He preferred to +stay out in the kitchen. + +"Angus Mackay, you make me tired!" Kathleen told him. "What do I care +about your clothes? You're still thinking of yourself as an unbidden +guest, after I've told you you're more than welcome. I'm not going to +let you sit out in the kitchen like an Indian. Come along, now, like a +good boy." + +As there was no way out of it, Angus followed her, feeling very +conscious of his worn riding-clothes. But as everybody was playing cards +nobody cast more than a casual glance in his direction, save Faith +Winton, who rose and came toward them. + +"Kathleen, I've driven my unfortunate partner nearly crazy. He's too +polite to tell me what he thinks of my play, but see how wistfully he's +looking at you." + +Kathleen laughed. + +"Well, take care of Angus, then. And keep his mind off his clothes. He's +worrying because he isn't dressed like a head waiter." With a nod she +left them and seated herself at the vacant table. + +"They were relieved to get rid of me," Faith Winton laughed. "Shall we +sit down and talk? I haven't seen you for weeks. Why didn't you come to +see me once in awhile?" + +"I wanted to, but somehow--" + +"Never mind excuses. When I get a place of my own perhaps you will be +more neighborly. I've made up my mind to build a house on my ranch in +the spring." + +She told him her plans. She would have a cottage built, buy a few head +of stock and some chickens, break a few acres as a start and set out +fruit trees. Between the rows she would grow small fruits, feed, +vegetables. When the trees came into bearing she would have an assured, +definite income. + +Angus listened in grim silence. He had heard it all before from the +hopeful lips of new settlers. Theoretically, so many bushels may be +grown to the acre, a tree so many years old will bear so many boxes of +fruit. This is quite unassailable, proven by actual experience, by +incontestable data, set out in reports which are the gospel of the new +and especially the inexperienced settler. He seizes these facts avidly, +but overlooks or refuses to consider a number of other things, such as +drought, hail, frosts early or late, winter-killed trees, pests, poor +years, low prices, and a hundred other factors which taken together make +those actually used entirely misleading. But the one big factor which +the inexperienced invariably refuse to consider at all, is that +inexperience itself. + +"I don't want to discourage you," he said, "but you know, don't you, +that you can't do this work yourself. Hiring will eat up your profit." + +"But there must be a margin. You hire men yourself." + +"I hire two men to about three hundred acres. You are thinking of hiring +about one man for ten. At that rate I should have thirty men, and the +land wouldn't pay for them." + +"But I could hire a man as I needed him, and what improvements I make +will increase the value of the place. And when I get more cleared--" + +Metaphorically, Angus threw up his hands. It was no use. Also it was +impossible to tell her the truth about the property under the +circumstances. With actual experience she might give up the idea. All he +could do was to make the experiment as cheap as possible for her. + +"Well," he said, "when the winter breaks up, if you're of the same mind, +I'll do your breaking and disking for you, if you like, and seed it down +to something. I can clean out the spring and run a ditch and fix it for +irrigating. You needn't bother with water from the creek for a few +acres. While I'm about it I might as well do the fencing and fork out +the sods for a garden patch. When the sleighing is good I'll haul over a +few loads of well-rotted manure." + +"Thank you," she said, "but--" + +"Oh, that's all right," Angus continued. "I guess you don't know much +about planting trees and garden truck. I'll attend to that. I may as +well order your seeds while I'm getting my own. I can run a cultivator +through the garden now and then in the evenings. I can fix you up with +all the tools you'll need. Then I can give you a milk cow, a nice +quiet--" + +"Wait, wait!" she interrupted as Angus began to think of other items. +"What are all these things and all this work going to cost?" + +"Cost?" Angus echoed blankly. "Why, nothing, of course. They don't +amount to anything." + +"Don't they? It seems to me you're calmly arranging to do all my work +yourself--the work you said I'd have to hire done." + +"These are just a few little chores for a neighbor. Nobody would think +of charging for them. We sort of swap work about here." + +"But what work could I do for you?" + +"Huh!" Angus hesitated, at a loss for an answer. "Oh, lots of things. +You could--er--um--yes, of course you could." + +"You can't think of one single thing I could do!" + +"You could pick berries," said Angus struck by a brilliant thought. +"Yes, you could do that better than any man. I always have a lot more +than I can use, and you could put up all you needed for the winter." + +"And you think giving me fruit would pay for--p-pay for--" + +She broke off, and Angus saw to his utter amazement that her eyes were +full of tears, as she bent her head. + +"Whatever is the matter?" he whispered. "Is it anything I've said?" + +"It's--it's everything you've said," she murmured. "Don't say anything +for a minute, please." + +So Angus kept silence, sorely puzzled, and in a few moments she looked +him in the face with eyes still misty and a little, tremulous smile. + +"Yes, it's everything. I couldn't stand it. Nobody else has really +offered to help me. The boys think it's a joke, and Kathleen thinks I'm +mildly crazy. And then you, a stranger--" + +"I'm not. And I might as well put in my spare time helping you." + +"You have no spare time, and I know it. I must pay for what you do." + +"All right. I'll send you a bill." + +"For a fraction of what the work is worth!" she scoffed. "Not that way, +Angus Mackay!" + +"Any way you like," Angus said, knowing that he could make it up to her. + +"Very well--and thank you. I'll be an independent ranch lady--unless I +sell the place." + +"Has any one made you an offer?" + +"No. I would rather not sell, anyway." + +"You have your title deeds all in order, in case you should want to +sell?" + +"I suppose so. Uncle Godfrey would attend to that." + +"He has the title papers?" + +"Yes. I never saw them. I don't know much about such things. Father told +me Uncle Godfrey had them all." + +Angus dropped the subject. He could not very well suggest that she take +a look at these papers. Faith Winton on her part appeared satisfied. +Presently she suggested music and went to the piano. Lying back in a +chair Angus watched the soft curve of her cheek, her clean-cut profile, +the certain touch of her fingers on the keys. Absently his gaze wandered +to the card players. He had no idea of the stakes, but the players were +tense, absorbed. Faith Winton, glancing at him, marked his expression. + +"What are you thinking of?" she asked without interrupting the play of +her fingers. + +"I was wondering how on earth these people can sit playing cards all +night." + +"I hate this," she said. He looked at her in surprise. "All of it. It's +not like Christmas night. It's not even sociability. It's gambling, pure +and simple. Uncle Godfrey and Kathleen will stop presently, but the boys +will play till morning." + +Shortly, the first half of her prediction was verified. The games broke +up. Godfrey French apologized perfunctorily. Time was when he would have +spent the night in such good company, but now he was no longer young. +With him went Faith and Kathleen. + +With their going the business of the evening began in earnest. A quartet +stuck to bridge, but the rest embarked on a poker game. Scotch +circulated briskly. + +Angus, very much out of it, sat and smoked, regarding the players idly. +He noted that the French boys--Blake was absent--drank very little. On +the other hand, some of the players drank a good deal. But finally he +lost interest. He became sleepy and dozed in his chair. + +He was awakened by loud voices. The poker game had broken up; the +players were on their feet. + +"I tell you, Willoughby," Gerald French was saying, "you are quite +mistaken. Nothing of the sort happened. + +"I saw it," Willoughby maintained doggedly. + +"You are a guest," said Gerald, "but don't abuse your privileges." + +"I am aware of my obligations as a guest," Willoughby retorted, "but +they do not include allowing myself to be rooked at cards." + +Instantly Gerald struck him hard across the mouth and Willoughby lashed +back. Another guest sought to interfere. Young Larry pushed him back. + +"Keep out!" he said. "Mind your own business." + +"Keep your hands off me!" the other returned, and caught at his arm. + +Larry pinned him, and somebody else tried to pull him loose. Larry came +loose with remarkable alacrity, and did so hitting with both hands. +Gavin, pushing forward, was caught by two men. Instantly a rough-house +started. + +Angus sat where he was, taking no part. He saw Chetwood plunge into the +fray and go back from a straight punch. Gavin shook off three men as a +bear shakes clear of a worrying pack, and as he did so another man who +had caught up a chair, swung it at his head. The big man partially +dodged the blow, wrenched the chair away and brandished it high. As he +did so he emitted a short, deep roar of anger. + +Fearing that somebody might be seriously hurt, Angus decided to +interfere. He leaped forward and caught the chair as it poised for a +moment aloft. + +"Don't do that," he said. Gavin's ordinarily cold eyes were blazing. + +"Keep out of this," he said. "It's nothing to you." As he spoke he tried +to wrench the chair free; but Angus' grip held. Letting go himself, the +big man clinched him. + +Angus felt himself caught in a tremendous grip; but the wrench and heave +that followed did not pluck him from his footing. He locked his long +arms around Gavin, and the arch of his back and the sinews of his braced +legs held against him. + +Suddenly Gavin gave ground, swung and tripped with the heel. Angus felt +himself going, but he took his man with him. They rolled over and over. +By this time Angus had lost all his indifference. For the first time +since his full strength came upon him, he was putting it all forth +against a man as strong or stronger than himself. And then he became +aware that nobody else was fighting. Gavin's grip loosened. + +"Let go, Mackay," he said. "Cut it out now." + +Then Angus saw Kathleen. She had slipped on some clinging thing of blue +and lace, and her hair in its night braids hung to her waist. Her face +was pale and her eyes stormy with anger. + +"Well," she said, "_gentlemen_!" + +She accented the word with bitter irony. Her eyes swept over them +disdainfully, resting for a moment on Angus. + +"All right, Kit," Gavin said. "You can go back to roost." + +"If you're quite through!" she said. "Otherwise I'll stay." + +"Oh, we're through," Gavin assured her. + +Without another word Kathleen left the room. Behind her there was utter +silence for a moment. Then with one accord the guests moved toward the +door. Gavin halted them. + +"No," he said, "you can't go till this blizzard blows out. Don't be +damned fools just because we've had a row. Mackay will tell you what +it's like outside. Now we'll leave you alone, because you probably want +it that way." He turned to Angus who stood apart from the rest, and +lowered his voice. "You're a good, skookum man, Mackay. I half wish +Kathleen hadn't butted in." + +"So do I," Angus returned. The big man smiled. + +"No hard feelings on my part," he said. "I'd just like to see which of +us was the better man. I never hooked up with anybody as husky as you. +You're not like these blighters." His eyes rested on his guests with +utter contempt. "You were right in catching that chair. I might have +hurt somebody. Thanks. Good night." + +Left alone, Angus after telling the others that in his opinion it would +be folly to venture out before daylight, established himself in his +corner, where Chetwood presently joined him. + +"Pleasant evening, what?" he observed. He grinned. + +"I didn't know you were back." + +"Just got in the other night, and intended to look you up to-morrow." + +"Do it, anyway." + +"I wanted to ask you if you could do with another man on your ranch?" + +"Not till spring." + +"Wages secondary object. Primary one a Christian home for an honest but +inexperienced young man whose funds are not what they should be." + +"Who is he?" + +"His full name is Eustace William Fitzroy Chetwood. But he would answer +to 'Bill.'" + +"You?" Angus exclaimed. "You're joking." + +"Not a bit of it. I have the best of reasons for asking. Tell you about +them some time. To-night is my last night of the gay life. Thought I +might win a little money, but instead of that I lost. I am an applicant +for work." + +"You're welcome. I can't pay much, but the meals come regularly." + +"That's very good of you," Chetwood acknowledged. "I'll move my traps +out to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +INTRODUCING MRS. FOLEY + + +That spring, as soon as the frost was out of the ground, Angus did his +promised work for Faith Winton, while a couple of carpenters ran up a +cottage, stable and outbuilding. With this extra work, Angus was more +than busy. The Frenches did nothing to help. They seemed to regard the +girl's actions as folly of which the sooner she was cured the better. + +"I am getting a companion, an old friend of mine," Faith told Angus one +day as the cottage neared completion. "It may be cowardly, but I don't +want to live here alone." + +"Of course it would be lonesome," he agreed. "It will be nice for you to +have a girl friend." + +She stared at him for a moment and laughed. "Oh, very nice. We'll move +in some time next week." + +A week passed and another, and Angus, though he had heard that the new +ranch was occupied, had had no opportunity to visit it. Then one evening +he saddled Chief and rode over. + +He saw smoke rising from the chimney, and when he dismounted and +ascended the steps he heard a strange swishing and thumping, accompanied +by a melancholy moaning which put him in mind of a dog scratching a sore +ear. Wondering what on earth the racket was about, he knocked. + +The noise ceased, heavy footsteps utterly unlike Faith Winton's crossed +the floor, the door opened and a strange lady confronted him. She was +short, but extremely broad of beam. Her hair, streaked with gray, had +once been a fiery red. She had keen, aggressive blue eyes, a short, +turned-up nose, and a wide mouth with perfect white teeth. Her sleeves +were rolled above her elbows, showing a pair of solid, red, freckled +forearms, and in one hand she carried a mop. Amazed at this apparition, +Angus gaped at her. + +"Well," said the lady in accents which left no doubt of her nationality, +"well, misther man, an' phwat will yez be wantin'?" + +"Is Miss Winton at home?" Angus asked. + +"She is _nat_." + +"She's living here now, isn't she?" + +"She is." + +"Which way has she gone?" + +"I dunno." + +"Then I'll wait," Angus decided. + +"Outside!" the lady also decided. + +Bang! The door shut in Angus' face. Immediately the thump and swish +began again, though the moaning obligato did not. Angus sat down on the +steps and filled his pipe, but found he had no matches. For some moments +he sat there, sucking the cold stem and wondering where the deuce Faith +Winton had picked up this woman. No doubt she and her girl friend had +gone for a walk. Well, he might as well be doing something. + +He went around to the back of the house where he had hauled a pile of +wood, picked up an old ax and began to split. Once the lady of the mop +came to the back door and took a long look at him. By and by, tiring of +splitting and wanting a smoke very badly, he put on his coat and went to +the door to request a match. The lady of the mop met him on the +threshold. + +"Could you give me--" he began, but she cut him short. + +"I could _nat_," she said grimly. "Who asked ye to do ut? On yer way!" + +"But--" + +"They's nawthin' comin' to ye," the lady asserted. "Ut's no handout +yez'll get here." + +"But I don't want--" + +"Yez want coin, do yez? Divil th' cint will yez get!" + +"No, no," Angus protested, "you're all wrong. I want--" + +"An' do I care phwat yez want, ye black-avised bo?" the lady shouted in +a tops'l-yard-ahoy bellow. "Beggars on harrseback I've heerd iv, but +ye're the first I've seen. On yer way; or th' flat iv me hand and th' +toe iv me boot is phwat ye'll dhraw, for all the bigness iv ye, ye long, +lazy, herrin'--bel--" + +"Give me a match!" Angus roared through this wealth of personal +description, despairing of making his want known otherwise. "I want a +match, that's all." + +"A match?" the lady exclaimed. + +"Sure, to light my pipe with," Angus told her. "I'm not a hobo. I'm +working the place for Miss Winton." + +"And why couldn't ye say so before?" she demanded, frowning at him. + +"Because you wouldn't give me a chance. You wouldn't let me get in a +word edgeways." + +"God save us all, an' maybe I wouldn't then," she admitted. "Is Mackay +th' name iv ye? Come in an' sit down. A match, is ut? Here ye are, +then." + +Angus sat down and lit his pipe, while she stared at him. + +"Faix, then, I wouldn't have knowed ye at all, at all," she said. + +"Well, you never saw me before." + +"Be description, I mane. She said--" + +"Miss Winton?" + +"Who else? Yez do be big enough, but homelier than she said." + +"Did she say I was homely?" + +"Did I say so?" the lady returned, and her blue eyes twinkled. + +"Not exactly. But--" + +"Then don't be puttin' words into a woman's mouth, for God knows they's +no need iv ut," she told him. "An' so ye do be th' Mackay lad I've been +hearin' iv, that found her whin she was a little, lost wan, an' shooted +that murtherin' divil iv a grizzly bear!" + +Angus acknowledged his identity and diffidently inquired the lady's +name. + +"Me name, is ut? They's times whin I have to stop an' think. Mary Kelly +I was born, an' me first was Tim Phelan. A slip iv a gyurl I was then, +an' little more when they waked him. Dhrowned he was, but sure wather +was always fatal to his fam'ly, an' maybe it was all for the best, as +Father Paul said whin he married me to Dan Shaughnessy after a dacint +year. But he died himself, the holy man, before Dan fell off the roof, +an' it was Father Kerrigan said the words over me an' Pether Finucane. +It was Dinney Foley brought me th' news iv th' premachure blast that tuk +Pether, an' I married him. Dinny was me last. So me name's Mrs. Foley." + +"And is Mr. Foley here on the ranch?" Angus asked. + +"I hope not," Mrs. Foley returned with apprehension. "Givin' him th' +best iv ut, he's wid th' blessid saints. A voylent man was poor Dinney, +as broad as ye, but not so high, an' a lion wid a muckstick. But phwat's +a muckstick to knives? Sure thim dirty dagoes is born wid thim in their +hands. Though he stretched thim right an' left wid th' shovel, he could +not gyard his back. So whin I buried him I quit. No, I've had no luck at +all keepin' men." And Mrs. Foley sighed, pursed up her lips and shook +her head at Angus. + +"You do seem to have been out of luck," Angus sympathized gravely. "Have +you known Miss Winton long." + +"As long as she is. I nursed her wid me own b'y that died." + +"And have you known this girl friend of hers, long, too?" + +"Phwat gyurl friend?" + +"The one who is here with her--her companion." + +"I'm her," Mrs. Foley returned. "Where do ye get this gyurl friend +thing, anyway?" + +But Angus could not tell. He had put his own construction on Faith +Winton's words. At any rate Mrs. Foley seemed a capable companion. + +"Well, I hope you'll like it here," he said. "It may be a little lonely, +but there's nothing to be afraid of. Bears seldom come down on the +benchlands now, and there are no hoboes worse than I am." + +"Afraid, is ut?" Mrs. Foley snorted. "An' wud I that has lived wid four +men be afraid iv a bear? I am not even afeard iv a mouse. Anyways, for +bears an' bos they's a dog." + +"I thought I heard him whining when I came to the front door." + +"Whining?" Mrs. Foley ejaculated. + +"Well, sort of moaning as if he was scratching a sore ear. And then he +howled." + +"Howled!" Mrs. Foley cried. "Th' nerve iv ye!" + +"What's the matter?" Angus asked. "It sounded like a lonesome pup to +me." + +"Did ut, indade!" snorted Mrs. Foley. "Ye big, on-mannerly blackgyard, +that was me, singin'!" + +"Singing?" Angus gasped. + +"Singin'," Mrs. Foley repeated firmly. "An' a sweet song, too, a rale +Irish song. Color blind in th' ears, ye are, ye long lummix! May th' +divil--But phwat's the use? Th' ign'rance iv ye is curse enough!" + +"What's the matter, Mary?" Faith Winton's voice asked from the door. +"You're not quarrelling with Angus Mackay, I hope." + +"I wud not lower mesilf!" Mrs. Foley replied loftily, "though he said me +singin' was like the howlin's iv a purp." + +"No, no," Angus protested, "I didn't mean that. I heard your singing, +too, and it was fine." + +"Yez may be a willin' liar, but yer work is coorse," Mrs. Foley informed +him. "Well, I do not set up f'r to be wan iv thim divas. I can raise th' +keen fine over a corpse, but me singin' is privut an' so intended. So I +forgive ye, young man, more be token I can see it's herself thinks it's +a joke on the old gyurl. For shame, Miss Faith! An' me that's crooned ye +in yer cradle many's the long night!" + +But there was a twinkle in Mrs. Foley's blue eyes, and Angus began to +suspect that her bark was much worse than her bite. + +"Mary was my nurse," Faith told him when they were seated in the living +room. "She really thinks the world of me, spoils me--and bullies me. But +what do you think of my humble home? You haven't seen it since it was +finished." + +Angus approved the room and its furnishings. There was space to move, +and a fireplace. The chairs were comfortable and strong; there was a +spacious couch, a well-filled bookcase, a piano and a banjo case. + +"I like it," he said. "It's not cluttered up with a lot of junk. +Everything looks as if it could be used. That's what I like. Is that a +banjo and do you play it?" + +"Yes, I play it." + +"I like a banjo better than a piano." + +"You Philistine! Why?" + +"Perhaps because I'm a Philistine. I don't know just why. All I know is +that I _do_ like it better. A piano is sort of machine-made music to me; +but with a banjo the player seems to be making the music himself, as if +he was singing." + +"You mean there is more personal expression." + +"Maybe. I don't know anything about music. But a banjo seems to _talk_. +It's the thing for the tunes that everybody knows." + +"You and Kipling agree, then. You know his 'Song of the Banjo': + + "And the tunes that mean so much to you alone-- + Common tunes that make you choke and blow your nose, + Vulgar tunes that bring the laugh that hides the groan-- + I can rip your very heartstrings out with those." + +"Yes, that's the idea. He's right enough there." + +"And how about: + + "'But the word, the word is mine + When the order moves the line, + And the lean, locked ranks go roaring down to die,'?" + +she asked curiously. + +"The only music to fight with and to die to is the pipes," Angus said. + +"The pipes? You mean the bagpipes." + +"Of course." + +"Some people," Faith laughed, "would say that death would be a blessed +relief from the sound of them." + +Angus smiled grimly. "I know. There are plenty of jokes about the pipes. +But they are no joke to the men who meet the men played into battle to +the skirl of them." + +"I believe you are right in that," Faith admitted. "I haven't a drop of +Scotch blood, so far as I know. But I have heard a pipe band playing +'Lochaber No More' behind a gun carriage which bore a dead soldier; and +I have seen the Highland regiments march past the colors at a review, to +'Glendarual' and 'Cock o' the North,' and heaven knows what gatherings +and pibrochs, and I have stood up on my toes and my back hair has felt +crinkly. I own up to it. But I love the banjo. It's a little sister of +the lonesome." + +She took the instrument, a beautiful concert model, from its case, keyed +it for a moment and spoke through low, rippling chords. + +"Sometimes at night I pick it by the hour--oh, very softly, so as not to +disturb anybody--not any particular tune--just odds and ends, +anything--and my thoughts go away off wool gathering and I am quite +happy. Can you understand such foolishness?" + +"Yes," Angus replied seriously. "I can't play anything, or sing, but +there are times when I want to--if you can understand that." + +She nodded, her fingers brushing the strings. "Yes, I know. Often the +person who knows least about music loves it best--down in his soul." + +"Play something," Angus urged. + +And so Faith Winton played. At first she played consciously; but as the +daylight faded and the twilight came she let the strings talk. Bits of +old half-forgotten melodies rippled from her fingers, changing, +shifting, mingling and merging, now familiar or half familiar and then +quite strange; but always tugging, tugging at the heartstrings, as if in +the gut and parchment there dwelt a wayward, whimsical soul, half-sad +and half-merry, whimpering and chuckling in the growing darkness. +Suddenly the music swept into a rolling, thunderous march, shifted to a +rollicking Irish jig, and stopped abruptly with a crash of chords and a +ringing of gut and iron. + +"Don't stop," Angus said. + +"But I've played myself out--for this time. It's dark--quite dark--and I +didn't notice. I must get a light." + +"I must go. I have never heard playing like that--never. I'll take much +of it home with me." + +"Come and get more any time," she laughed. "When shall I see you again?" + +"To-morrow or next day. There are several things to be done here. If I +can't come myself, I'll send Gus." + +"Try to come yourself," said Faith Winton. + +Angus, as he rode homeward, found himself dwelling on these words. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +AN ENEMY AT WORK + + +Spring merged into early summer, and Jean came home. Angus met her, and +before they were clear of town he was undergoing a feminine +cross-examination as to Faith Winton. + +"Is she pretty, Angus?" + +"You girls are all alike," he grinned. "That's what she asked about +you." + +"What did you say?" + +"I said I hadn't noticed." + +"You're a nice brother!" + +"That's exactly what she said." + +"Well, I like her for that. But is _she_ pretty?" + +"Well, I don't know that a girl would call her pretty. She doesn't dress +herself up like a French wedding and frizzle her hair and all that, but +she's--she's--oh, darned if I know! She looks _clean_." + +"Clean!" Miss Jean cried. "Well, I should hope so!" + +"I mean clean-run, clean-strain, clean-built, like a good horse." + +"My heavens, Angus, don't tell me she's built like a horse!" + +"Don't be a little fool!" her brother growled. "She's better built than +you are, young lady, and prettier, too." + +"Oh, indeed!" Miss Jean sniffed. "Well, beauty doesn't run in our +family. Now tell me about Turkey." + +But Angus could not give her much information. Turkey was working +around, here and there, but he never came to the ranch. + +"Can't we get him to come back, Angus?" + +"He can come when he likes." + +"Yes, I know. But won't you ask him?" + +Angus did not reply at once. + +"No" he said at last, deliberately, "I won't. It's not the fire; I don't +care for that. But we haven't got along well for a long time. It had to +come to a show-down." + +Out of her knowledge of her brother, Jean dropped the subject +temporarily. She asked casually about Chetwood. + +"Did he ever tell you why his remittances had stopped?" + +"No. Of course I never asked. I got the idea that something had gone +bust--that there was no more money coming in. He wasn't actually a +remittance man, you know. He had some money of his own." + +"It comes to the same thing--if he hasn't any now," said Miss Jean. "It +will be a good thing for him to do some work." + +She exhibited no special enthusiasm when she met the young man. Chetwood +in overalls, with nailed boots, hard and brown, differed materially from +the young idler of the summer before, but his cheery good nature was +unchanged. Apparently the loss of his income or capital, or both, did +not worry him. + +The next day Jean rode over with Angus to make Faith Winton's +acquaintance. Angus left them alone to be friends or otherwise. +Returning a couple of hours later, he found that there was no doubt +about their mutual attitude. + +"Why, she's a dear!" Jean declared enthusiastically as they rode +homeward. "Why didn't you tell me what she was like?" + +"I tried to." + +"You said she was clean-built, like a good horse. I told her--" + +"What!" Angus cried in horror. + +"Not that, of course. I told her you were a clam. She said from your +description she thought I was a skinny, little girl in braids and short +dresses." + +"I never said anything about braids and dresses." + +"Did you say I was skinny?" Miss Jean demanded. + +"Well--" + +"Then you did say it. Ye great, long, lummix--" + +"Hello!" said Angus. "That sounds like Mrs. Foley. + +"'And so yez do be th' sister iv that great, long, lummix iv an Angus +Mackay,'" said his sister in startling imitation of that lady. "'Yez do +not favor him, bein' a good-lookin' slip iv a colleen.' What do you +think of that, Angus?" + +"That you're making the last part up," her brother grinned. + +"Not a word, not a syllable. I told her I thought you were a big, +fine-looking young man, and what do you think she said?" + +"I'll bet she didn't agree with you." + +"''Tis yer duty as a sisther to stand up f'r yer brother,' she told me, +'an' I am not mixin' it wid yez on th' question iv his shape. 'Tis true +he's that big they was a good pair iv twins spoilt in him, and he has +th' legs an' arrums an' back iv a rale man; but his face is that hard it +wud make a foine map f'r a haythen god.'" + +"Huh!" Angus snorted. "She ought to look at her own." + +"Heavens, Angus! I believe you're vain." + +"Vain--blazes!" Angus growled. "I suppose I ought to be tickled when an +old she-mick says I look like a totem pole." + +"Like a god!" his sister chuckled. "Don't get sore, old boy. Miss Winton +says she's never complimentary to the people she likes best. She thinks +you've made a hit with the lady." + +"Then I wonder what she'd have said about my figurehead if I hadn't?" +Angus grinned. "I like the old girl, myself, but she sure does hand it +to me. Well, I guess I can take my medicine." + +But Angus had more important things to think about. One which began to +worry him was exceptionally dry weather. High, drying winds sucked all +the moisture from the soil, and with the loss of it the surface earth +shifted and blew away from the roots of the grain. Deprived of this +support, they twisted in the winds, their arteries of life hardened and +withered. The grass crops were poor, short and wiry when they should +have been lush and long. Pallid green instead of dark dominated the hue +of the fields, the worst possible sign to the eye of the rancher. And +this was in spite of the best that could be done by way of irrigation. + +Now Angus obtained the water for his ditch system from a mountain creek +fed by innumerable springs as well as by melting snows back in the +hills. But for the first time in his experience he found himself without +sufficient water. For he had been clearing land steadily, year after +year, without enlarging his main ditch. So far the seasons had favored +him. But now, in the first, old-time dry season for years, he found that +his ditch was insufficient to irrigate his enlarged acreage. + +It was out of the question to deepen or broaden the ditch just then. To +do so would be a task of some magnitude, for from intake to ranch was +nearly two miles. Time had packed and cemented the gravel of its banks, +and further bound them with roots of grasses and willows. Again, to +avoid expensive fluming the ditch wound sinuously around the flanks of +several steep sidehills, and to disturb existing sidehill ditches is to +invite slides, which necessitate flumes. He made up his mind to enlarge +the ditch before another season, but meanwhile he had to depend on it. +So he took every drop of water it would carry. The creek was high, a +muddy torrent, and he set the water gate of his intake so that the ditch +should run rap full, but no spill, and thus cause washouts along its +banks. + +One morning in the gray of dawn Angus awoke. The wind which had blown +all night seemed to have lulled. He heard Gus pass his door on the way +to the stables, but as he was dressing the big Swede returned. He +pounded on Angus' door. + +"Hey, gat oop!" he cried. He stuck his head inside, his eyes round and +goggling. "We ent gat no watter!" he announced. + +"The devil we haven't!" Angus exclaimed. "What's wrong?" + +"Ay be goldarn if Ay know. She's yoost oft. Mebbe dae ditch ban plug." + +"Glom a shovel for me and get an ax and pick and I'll be right with +you," Angus told him. + +Dressing hastily, he struck the main ditch behind the house. It was dry, +save for little pools in which water lingered. They crossed the rear +fence, finding no obstruction, and followed the ditch until it struck +the sidehill section. Then Gus who was in the lead, stopped with an +oath. + +"By Yudas Priest!" he ejaculated, "dae whole dam' sidehill ban vash to +hal!" + +Pushing past him, Angus surveyed the damage. Where the ditch had run was +a raw, gaping wound in the hillside. Hundreds of tons of gravel, earth +and small bowlders had slid down on it. The far end of the ditch vomited +water upon the mass. Even as they looked a few yards of hillside +undermined by its rush came down upon the broken end, blocking the +water. This, backed up, began to pour over the banks of the ditch. + +Left to itself the whole ditch would wash away. Circling the break, both +men took the trail to the intake. The water gate was wide open. The high +water of the creek was hurrying through in a swift flood, far more than +the ditch could carry. They threw their weight on the lever and shut it +off. + +"Who opened it this far on that water?" Angus demanded. + +"Ay ent been near him," Gus replied. "Mebbe dae Engelschman monkey med +him." + +It was most unfortunate. In other years the ditch had carried a full +head without accident. This time, however, it had failed just at the +time when water was absolutely necessary to the crops. The only way to +get water now was to build a flume; and so, immediately after breakfast, +Rennie started for a load of planks, while the others began to get out +timbers to support them, and to clear away the mass of dirt. Chetwood, +it appeared, had not been near the water gate. Somebody, however, had +changed it. + +They dug into the mess, and sank holes for timbers to support the flume. +Now and then a small bowlder or a little dirt came down from above, +where the hill rose sheer above the slip. Gus, looking up at it, shook +his head. + +"Mebbe she come anoder slide an' take dae flume, hey! Mebbe I better put +in leetle shot up dere an' fetch him now? + +"You might fetch half the hill." + +"Yoost vat you say." + +"Well, make it a darn small one." + +So Gus put in a very small shot which brought down a small patch of dirt +and gravel, but did not budge the mass. + +"I guess she ban O.K.," he admitted. + +It took four days to put in the flume. When water was running once more +and the long, silver ribbons of it were trickling down the length of the +fields giving fresh life to the grain which, even in that short time was +yellowing with the drouth, Angus heaved a sigh of relief. + +"Thank the Lord that's done," he observed. + +"If we couldn't have put her in we'd have had a hundred years of dry +weather," Rennie grumbled. "But now, of course, she'll rain." + +That night, as if to make his prediction good, thunder-heads rose above +the ranges and lightning was splitting the back of the southwest sky. +But all that came of it was a heavy wind, though some time in the night +Angus was awakened by what he thought was a heavy roll of thunder. But +as he emerged from the house in the early morning the sky was clear and +the day seemed to promise more heat than ever. + +Thankful that he had water anyway, he stood for a moment cleaning his +lungs with big draughts of mountain air; but as he stood he seemed to +miss something which was or should have been a part of that +early-morning stretch and breath. Puzzled for an instant he would not +tell what was missing. And then he knew. He could not hear the gurgle of +water in the ditch which ran beside the house. + +He reached it in two jumps. It was dry. For a moment he stood +contemplating it, and then started on a run for the flume. There his +worst fears were verified. There was no flume. The hanging section of +sidehill above it which Gus' shot had failed to shake, had fetched away +and swept the structure out of existence. The only evidence of it was a +few ends of planks and timbers sticking up at crazy angles. All the work +and a great deal more was to do over again. + +Angus stood scowling at the wreck. His crops needed water very, very +badly, and this time, to judge from appearances, it would take a week to +make repairs. If the dry weather continued that would mean practical +ruin to his crop. + +But standing there would not help matters and time was precious. As soon +as he had shut off the water he returned to the house, and after +breakfast all hands tackled the job. + +It was harder than before. Much earth and loose rock had to be moved. +The morning was hot, breathless. As the sun gained power the sidehill +absorbed its rays and threw off a baking heat. Chetwood, unused to such +work, puffed and gasped, but stuck to it. Angus and Gus labored +steadily, without respite. But Rennie after a while leaned on his shovel +and stared up at the raw earth above. + +"Where'd you put in that shot, Gus, when you was tryin' to shake her?" +he asked. + +Gus told him, and soon after he abandoned his shovel and climbing around +the track of the slide he got above it. There he poked around for some +time. Coming down he beckoned to Angus. + +"How long do you s'pose it'll take to put in this flume?" he queried. + +"Maybe a week." + +"Uh-huh! And then s'pose she goes out again?" + +"What's the use of supposing that?" Angus demanded irritably, for his +hard luck was getting on his nerves. "What the devil are you croaking +for? I've got troubles enough." + +"I'm goin' to give you more," Rennie told him. "Look a-here!" He +exhibited four or five small stones with fresh, yellow earth still +clinging to them, and a piece of broken root. "What do you think of this +lay-out?" he asked. + +Angus frowned at the junk impatiently. The stones came from the layer of +like stuff which lay beneath most of the land in the district. The root +was fir, old, resinous, so that it had not rotted with the tree it had +once helped to anchor, and apparently it was freshly broken off and +twisted. + +"I've been shoveling stuff like that for hours," he said. "What about +it?" + +"Quite a bit. You seen me nanitchin' round up there, and I s'pose you +damned me for a lazy cuss. Well, up there's where I find them things." + +"You could have found plenty of them without climbing." + +"But I'm tellin' you I found these here _above_ the slide." + +Angus stared at him, slowly taking in his meaning. + +"Above it!" he exclaimed. + +"That's what I said. Up hill from the slide. Slide stuff never runs up +hill. This stuff was _blown_ there." + +"Gus put in a little shot--" + +"Near a week ago. The dirt on these rocks ain't dry yet. Same with the +wood. They ain't been lyin' out in the sun no time at all. All Gus did +was to put in a little coyote hole, and she blew straight out. This +shot was above, and when she blew she ripped the whole sidehill loose. +Mebbe there was more than one shot. I'll bet I heard it, and thought it +was thunder. Anyway, all this stuff was above where the slide started. +And that's what made the first slide, too. It wasn't water. Some son of +a gun shot the ditch." + +Angus turned the bits of evidence over in his hands, frowning. + +"Who would do a trick like that?" + +"You can come as near guessin' as I can." + +Angus shook his head. Nobody, so far as he knew, would deliberately cut +off his water. And yet, according to this silent but conclusive +evidence, somebody had done so. The repairs had been wrecked as soon as +completed. They might be wrecked again. It gave him a strange, +uncomfortable feeling, akin to that of a mysterious presence in the +dark. Also it moved him to deep, silent anger. + +"I would give a good deal to know," he said quietly. + +"Nobody hangin' round lately that I've noticed. But somebody was keepin' +case all right, 'cause we only got water a few hours. And I'll tell you +somethin' else: When we get the flume pretty near in again I'm keepin' +case myself." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +WATCHING + + +It took nine days to complete the flume a second time, and all hands +were dog-tired. All the time the heat had continued and the hot winds +were constant. The ranch had suffered badly. Irreparable damage had been +done. The grain was stunted, yellow. There would not be half a crop. + +These things bit into the soul of Angus Mackay as he labored fiercely, +pitting his strength and endurance against relentless time. He could get +no clew, no inkling of the person responsible for the trouble. + +On the afternoon of the day when the flume was completed, Rennie was +absent. After supper he sought Angus. + +"I went across the creek this afternoon," he said, "and I clumb up onto +that hill across where we was workin'. There was somebody there across +the gulch from me. Course I went down and over, but he'd gone. Found +where his horse had been standin' on top of the hill." + +"You couldn't tell who it was?" + +"No. I don't think he seen me. But whoever it was, was sizin' up the +flume. I'm goin' to take my blankets and camp alongside it for some +nights." + +"So will I," Angus said. "If I can find out who is doing this, Dave, I +will handle them myself. I will not bother about the law." + +A little spark lit in Dave Rennie's mild, blue eyes. + +"Sure; best way," he agreed. "Things was a darn sight better and safer +and less skunks and sharks when every gent packed his own law below his +belt. Law don't give you no action when you want it. Well, let's get +organized." + +Angus had told Jean nothing of his suspicions as to the destruction of +the flume. But now it was necessary. She listened, wide-eyed. + +"But who would do it, Angus?" + +"If I knew," he replied, "I would be hunting him now." + +Jean looked at her big, swarthy brother, noting the grim line of his +mouth, the smouldering anger in his eyes. + +"Don't get into any trouble, Angus." + +"It will be somebody else that will get into trouble if I find him." + +"But if you can avoid--" + +"I will avoid nothing," he told her sharply. "Let others do that. I have +never injured a man in my life, of my own will, and nobody shall injure +me and get away with it." + +Going into Rennie's room he saw his blankets on the floor ready for +rolling. On them reposed a worn gun-belt with two holsters, from each of +which protruded an ivory butt. Angus stared at this artillery, which he +had never seen before. + +"Sure, take a look at 'em," Dave said, interpreting his gaze. "I ain't +wore 'em for so long they feel funny now. Time was, though, when they +felt natural as front teeth." + +Angus drew the guns. They were ivory-handled, forty-one calibre, heavy, +long-barreled, single-action weapons of an old frontier model. Though +they had evidently seen much service, they were spotless. The pull, when +Angus tried it, was astonishingly quick and smooth, and in his hands +they fitted and balanced perfectly. + +"Them guns," said Dave, "pretty near shoot themselves if a feller +savvies a gun at all. A feller give 'em to me a long time ago." + +"Some present," Angus commented. + +"Well, he hadn't no more use for 'em," Dave explained. "Tell you about +it some time. What gun you takin'?" + +"I don't know." + +"Take a shotgun with buck. That's the best thing at night." + +Angus stared at him. In all the years he had known Rennie the little man +had been meek and mild, apparently the last being on earth to exhibit +bloodthirsty tendencies. + +"I don't want to blow anybody to pieces," he said. + +"Well, you won't--unless you get to shootin' at mighty close range," +Rennie pointed out; "and then you won't care. Take a double bar'l and a +box of goose loads, anyway." + +An hour later they picked a level spot near the new flume, wrapped up in +their blankets and lit pipes. But soon Angus dozed. + +"Go to sleep," said Rennie. "I'll wake you after a while." + +Angus went to sleep instantly and gratefully. He woke some hours later +with Rennie's hand on his shoulder. + +"It'll be light in two hours, and I'm pinchin' myself to keep awake. +You're awake for sure, are you? All right." + +He settled himself in his blankets, sighed and slept like a tired dog. +Angus sat up. The night which had been bright with stars was now +overcast and a wind was blowing. He could hear it straining through the +tree tops and booming back in the hills. The creek roared and brawled +noisily. A couple of horned owls hooted at their hunting in the timber. +There were noises close at hand; the faint, intermittent gurgle of +water, little rustlings of grasses and leaves, the occasional scurry of +tiny feet, the buzz and click of insects. He had a hard job to fight off +sleep. But suddenly a sound which did not blend with the natural voices +of the night drove every bit of drowsiness out of him. + +It was faint, like the clink of metal on stone. While Angus listened it +was repeated. He touched Rennie. Instantly the latter's breathing +stopped and changed. + +"Somethin' doing'?" + +"Listen!" + +Clink, clink, clang! Down the wind came the sound. + +"It's on the next sidehill," said Rennie. "Rippin' the ditch out, or +makin' a hole for a shot. She's a worse hill than this, too." He rose, +shook himself, and buckled on his belt. "We'll hold 'em up. Sneak up as +close as we can, and tell 'em to h'ist their paws." + +"Suppose they don't," said Angus, slipping a couple of shells into the +breech of his gun. + +"When you tell a feller to put 'em up and he don't, there's only one +thing to do; 'cause there's only one thing he's goin' to do, and you got +to beat him to it." + +The ditch, leaving the sidehill with the new flume, crossed the end of a +flat and struck another sidehill. This was brushy halfway to the top, +marking the track of an old slide of many years before. But above it, +where the ancient slide had started, the bank rose sheer, overhanging. +As they struck the flat they heard more plainly the clink of tools. + +"Right under where that old slip hangs," Rennie deducted. "That's the +place 'd make most trouble to fix. It's a darn sight worse than what we +did fix. Now--" + +His words were interrupted by the shrill blast of a whistle from +somewhere above. It was repeated, and from where the sounds of work had +been came the crash of brush. Rennie swore, and a gun seemed to leap +into his hand. + +"Their lookout seen us on this blasted flat!" he cried. "They're +climbin' the hill. If we had any sense--Come on! Maybe we can head 'em +off!" + +They rushed at the steep, brush-covered hill. To their right, but +invisible, others seemed to be climbing also. Suddenly from above a gun +barked, and a bullet drilled above Angus' head and spatted on a rock +below. Again a spurt of fire lanced the night, and another bullet +buzzed, this time to the left. + +Angus had never been shot at before. He had supposed that he would be +nervous if ever called on to stand fire. But actually his main feeling +was indignation that any one could shoot at him. And just as +automatically and unthinkingly as he was accustomed to swing on a bird, +he sent a charge of shot at the second flash of the gun. But a third +shot answered and he fired again, and broke the twelve gauge and shoved +in fresh shells, and started forward, only to be pulled back by Rennie. + +"There ain't no cover ahead. You'll get plugged." + +"But they'll get away!" + +"Well, so'll you," Dave told him; "but if you go crowdin' up without +cover somebody'll have to pack you home. Have sense! And lay down. +You're so darn big you'll stop something if you keep standin' up!" + +Angus dropped beside him in a little hollow, and a bullet droned through +the space his body had just occupied. + +"Told you so," Rennie grunted. "There's one man up there savvies +downhill shootin'. If I could--" The gun in his hand leaped twice so +quickly that the reports almost blended. "Don't believe I touched him. +Outa practice with a belt gun. Dark besides. Scatter some shot around +near the top." + +Angus used half a dozen shells, guessing as best he could. A shot or two +came back. Rennie suddenly turned loose both his guns in a fusillade, +and for an instant Angus saw or thought he saw moving figures +silhouetted against the sky on the hill's rim. At these, he let go both +barrels. Dave, swinging out the empty cylinders of his guns, swore. + +"Darn 'f I b'lieve we've touched hide nor hair. They got horses up +there. What darn fools we was to camp down in this bottom. There they go +now." + +Angus could hear the faint drumming of hoofs over the hill. There was +nothing to be done about it. Disgusted they went back to their blankets, +but not to sleep, and with dawn they returned to investigate. + +An endeavor had been made to tear out the wall of the ditch, and above +it a hole had been started, apparently with intent to use powder. A shot +there would have split off a section of the precipitous bank, and +brought it down, trees and all, into the ditch. Angus, surveying these +things with lowering brow, saw Rennie stoop and pick up something. + +"What have you got there?" the latter asked. + +Without a word Rennie handed him an old, stag-handled jack-knife. Angus +knew it very well. He himself had given it to his brother, Turkey. + +Angus stared at the knife, at first blankly and then with swiftly +blackening brow. He heard Dave's voice as from a distance. + +"Now don't go off at half-cock, Angus. Maybe--" + +"You know the knife," he said, his own voice sounding strange in his +ears. + +"Well, that don't say Turkey was in this. Maybe he lost it, and +somebody--" + +"Quit lying to yourself!" + +"By gosh, Angus, I'll bet Turkey don't know a darn thing--" + +But Angus was not listening. Out of the glory of the sun rising over the +ranges, one of the black moods of the Black Mackays descended on him. +All his life he had struggled against the hardness and bitterness of +heart inherited from his ancestors, men dour and vengeful, whose creed +had been eye for eye and tooth for tooth through the clan feuds of the +dim centuries. Hard and bitter men, these bygone Mackays whose blood ran +in his veins, carrying the black hate in the heart, even brother against +brother. There was even that Mackay of a dark memory--and his name, too, +was Torquil--who after a quarrel with his brothers had slain them, all +four. Old tales, these, handed down through the years, losing or gaining +in the telling, perhaps, but all stormy and full of violence and hate +and revenge. And in all of them there was never one of a Mackay who +forgave an injury. One and all they brooded over wrong and struck in +their own time. With them it was not the quick word and blow--though if +other tales were true they were quick enough with both--but the deep, +sullen, undying resentment under injury. + +As he thought of these things with the black mood upon him, Angus' heart +hardened against his brother. He did not doubt that this was Turkey's +revenge. There was his knife, and he should account for it. Since he had +not been alone he should tell the names of his confederates. And then, +like the bitter, dour Mackay he was, Angus put the knife in his pocket +and turned a grim but composed face to Rennie. + +"Maybe you are right," he admitted, though he had not heard a word the +other had been saying. "Let's go home and get breakfast. And say nothing +at all to Jean." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +BROTHER TO BROTHER + + +Jean was left in ignorance as to the occurrences of the night. No +further attempts were made to interfere with the ditch; but the flume +itself sagged in the middle by natural subsidence of the loose soil, and +much of it had to be set up again. Angus was sick at heart, for the +damage done by the combination of hot winds and lack of water was +irreparable. Much of his crop would not be worth cutting. + +And this, of all times, was the one chosen by Jean to re-open the +question of Turkey's return to the ranch. She urged Angus to ask him. +Angus flatly refused. + +"He is our brother--our younger brother," Jean urged. + +"If he were fifty times my brother, I would not. I tell you he has worn +out my patience, and I am glad he went. He made trouble enough when he +was on the ranch, and now--" + +But suddenly recollecting himself he broke off. Jean's face was grave. + +"Angus," she said, "what has Turkey done?" + +"Nothing," he replied sullenly. + +"That is not the truth, Angus." + +"Then whatever he has done it is more than enough. Let it go at that. I +will not talk about it to you or any one." + +"The black dog is on you," Jean told him. "I have seen it for days." + +"And if it is, your talk doesn't call it off," Angus retorted, and left +the house. And that night, being in a worse mood than ever, he threw a +saddle on Chief and rode away to have it out with his brother. + +Turkey dwelt alone in a log shack on the outskirts of the town. Angus +had never visited him, but he knew the place well enough. There was a +light in the shack, and after listening a moment to make sure there was +nobody else there, he knocked. Turkey's voice bade him enter. + +Turkey was lying on a bunk reading by the light of a lamp drawn up +beside him, and his eyebrows lifted as he recognized his visitor. + +"It's you, is it?" he said. + +"I have come to talk to you," said Angus. + +"Then you'd better sit down while you're doing it," said Turkey, as he +got out of his bunk. + +Angus sat down. There was but one room, in which Turkey ate and slept. +The walls were decorated with pictures cut from magazines. A rifle and +shotgun leaned in a corner with a saddle beside them. At the head of +Turkey's bunk hung a holstered six-shooter. The place was tidy enough, +save for burnt matches and cigarette butts which Turkey had carelessly +thrown down. + +"To save time," Angus began, "I'll tell you that this is a show-down." +Turkey's eyes narrowed at his tone, and the old, latent hostility sprang +to life in them. + +"Then spread your hand," he said. Angus took the knife from his pocket +and tossed it on the table. + +"That's yours, isn't it?" + +Turkey picked up the knife, surprise in his face. + +"You ought to know it." + +"I do know it." + +Turkey shrugged his shoulders. "All right. Thanks. Say whatever you have +to say, and don't stall." + +"I can say that in a few words," Angus returned. "It is not because you +are my brother, but only for Jean's sake that I keep my hands off you. +Do you get that?" + +"I can tell you another reason," Turkey retorted, his young face +hardening, "which is that I won't let you put your hands on me. You'll +get hurt if you try it. Now go on." + +"I want the names of the men who were with you." + +"What men? With me when?" + +"You know mighty well," Angus accused him. + +"All right, have it your own way." + +"I want their names." + +"Then keep on wanting them," Turkey returned. "If you think I know what +you mean, keep on thinking it. Keep on having your own way, same as +you've always had. Same as you had when you got me to quit the ranch. +Now you can go plumb, understand?" + +"Before I leave here," Angus said, "you will tell me what I want to +know, or--" + +"Or what?" Turkey demanded. + +"Or you will lie in that bunk for a week and be glad to do it," Angus +finished grimly. His young brother's eyes closed down to mere slits. + +"Get one thing straight," he said. "I'll take no more from you now than +I would from a stranger. Remember what I told you about keeping your +hands off me. I mean it!" + +"And so do I," said Angus rising. "No more nonsense, Turkey. Will you +answer my question?" + +Turkey was on his feet instantly. He took a step backward. "No," he +said; "I won't tell you one damned thing. Keep away from me, Angus. Keep +away, or by--" + +Unheeding the warning, Angus sprang forward. Turkey dodged, leaped back, +and his hand shot for the gun hanging by his bunk. It came out of its +holster. Angus swung his arm against it, and it roared in his ear. He +grasped it as the hammer fell a second time, and the firing pin pierced +the web of his hand between thumb and finger. He ripped the weapon from +Turkey's weaker hands and threw it away. Then he lost control of himself +and let his anger have full sway. + +[Illustration: _Angus swung his arm against it, and it roared in his +ear._] + +Turkey was a strong, active young fellow, but against his brother's +thews and bulk he was helpless. Angus did not strike him; he poured his +strength in a flood upon the body in his grasp, shaking and worrying it +as a great dog might worry a fox. But as the tremendous handling shook +away the last of Turkey's power of resistance, the door opened, there +were voices, a rush of feet, a hard fist came against Angus' ear, and an +arm shot around his neck. + +With this assault sanity came to him. He caught the wrist of the arm and +twisted it, and he heard a yell of pain. He thrashed himself free, +leaping back against the wall. + +The newcomers were Garland, Blake French, Gerald, Larry and two young +men strangers to Angus. Blake French, nursing a twisted wrist, cursed +him. + +"By ----, he was trying to murder Turkey!" he declared. + +The younger Mackay swayed forward, his face white in the lamplight. + +"Shut up!" he said. "Don't talk damned foolishness!" + +"He was choking you," Garland cried. "Somebody used a gun. The room's +full of powder smoke." + +"If you don't like smoke the air's good outside," Turkey told him. + +Angus stared at his young brother in amazement. He had expected +denunciation. + +"This isn't your put in--any of you," Turkey declared. + +"But--" + +"But--nothing!" Turkey snapped. "Mind your own business, can't you! Who +asked you to horn in?" + +Gerald grinned, a certain admiration in his lazy eyes. + +"All right, Turkey, I get you completely. See you later. Come on, boys." + +When the door closed behind them Turkey dropped into a chair, shoved his +hands into his pockets and stared at his brother. + +"You're a husky devil!" he said after an interval of silence. "What were +you trying to do--kill me?" + +"I don't know," Angus admitted. + +"If you had been just a shade slower," said Turkey, "I would have blown +your head off. So I can't blame you much. Well--what happens now?" + +"Nothing," Angus replied. "I'll be going." Getting up he walked to the +door, his anger replaced by shame and disgust. At the door he turned. "I +am sorry," he said, "and ashamed of myself. To prove it I will say what +I never thought to say, meaning it: Will you come back to the ranch? +Jean wants you. Maybe we can make a fresh start." + +Turkey stared at him in amazement for a moment. + +"You didn't come here to say that, did you?" + +"No," Angus admitted. "But Jean wanted me to." + +"Oh, Jean!" said the younger man. "I get on with Jean all right. But +you're doing it not because Jean wants you to, but to square yourself +with yourself. You always were a sour, proud devil, so I know what it +costs you. I won't crowd you, though. I'm getting along all right this +way, and so are you. No, I won't go back." + +"Suit yourself," said Angus. Turkey nodded. + +"I wouldn't go back on a bet. Some day you can buy out my share of the +ranch cheap--that is if I have any share. That's up to you." + +"When I can afford it, I will pay you what your share is worth," Angus +told him. "Father left me all he had, because I was the eldest and he +knew I would deal fairly. I think it would be fair if we took a third +each. That is what I have always intended." + +"More than fair," Turkey admitted. "You have done most of the work. I'll +hand you that much. So when the time comes, split my third two ways. +I'll take one, and you and Jean can take the other." + +"You can do what you like with your share," Angus told him, "but of +course I will not touch one cent of it. Meanwhile the ranch is +increasing in value." + +"I know all that," Turkey replied. "Don't tell me you're working for +me." + +"I will tell you this," said Angus, "anything that injures the ranch +injures you." + +Turkey eyed him for a moment. + +"Well?" + +"Well--remember it." + +"I'll try," said Turkey. "We don't get along well together. Best way is +not to be together. So after this you keep plumb away from me, and I'll +keep away from you. Does that go?" + +"Yes," said Angus. "And mind you keep to that, you and your friends. Let +me alone, and let the ranch alone!" + +Turkey stared at him, frowning, and half opened his mouth in question, +but let it go unuttered. Without another word Angus left him and rode +home through an overcast night. As he turned in at the ranch gate a drop +struck his hand. As he stabled Chief it began to rain softly and +steadily. Angus Mackay turned his face to the sky, and out of the +bitterness of his heart cursed it and the rain that had come too late. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +FAITH'S FARM + + +Angus was riding fast for Faith Winton's ranch. Rain had fallen steadily +for two days, and was still falling. The hills were veiled to their +bases in low clouds. Mists hung everywhere, rising from little lakes, +hanging low over the bottoms, clinging to the tree-tops of the +benchlands. The rain would do good, undoubtedly, but it could not repair +the damage of the drouth. + +Angus had not seen Faith for a fortnight. As he rode, head down against +the rain, half unconsciously he began to picture unimportant details. Of +course, on such a beastly day, she would be at home. There would be an +open fire, and perhaps music. Music and an open fire! The combination +suited him. Perhaps-- + +A live bomb landed beneath Chief's feet with an explosion of barking. +The big horse, taken by surprise, bounded and kicked. And as Angus +caught him hard with the rein and a word picked at random from a +vocabulary suited to the comprehension of western horses, he saw Faith +Winton. + +She was cased against the rain in a long slicker, and a tarpaulin hat +protected her fair head. Beneath the broad brim of it her face, rosy and +clear-skinned, laughed up at him as he brought Chief up with a +suddenness which made his hoofs cut slithering grooves in the slop. + +"Jehu, the son of Nimshi, rideth furiously. Also he useth vain words to +his steed." + +Angus reddened, for a man's remarks to his horse are in the nature of +confidential communications. + +"I didn't see you," he said, dismounting beside her. + +"Melord of many acres honors the poor ranch maiden. Methought he had +forgotten her existence." + +"You know better than that." + +"Well, perhaps I do. I hope your flume is all right now. But of course +this rain--" + +He did not undeceive her. + +"I never expected to see you out on a day like this." + +"Like this? Why, I never could stay in, on a rainy day. I must get out. +Good for the complexion." + +"I can see the complexion part of it. I wonder if you know how becoming +that slicker hat is?" + +She laughed up at him. "Of course I know. Do you think I'd wear it if I +didn't?" + +"I never saw one on a girl before." + +"No? They're supposed to be purely masculine, I know." She cocked the +hat on one side and sang: + + "If it be a girl she shall wear a golden ring, + And if it be a boy he shall fight for his king, + With his tarpaulin hat, and his coat of navy blue + He shall pace the quarter-deck as his daddy used to do." + +Her rich contralto rang down the misty aisles beneath the dripping firs. + +"Fine!" Angus applauded. "That's a great old song." She nodded and swung +into the old, original refrain, her voice taking on the North Country +burr: + + "O-ho! it's hame, lads, hame, an' it's hame we yet wull be-- + Back thegither scatheless in the North Countree; + Hame wi' wives an' bairns an' sweethearts in our ain countree-- + Whaur the ash, an' the oak, an' the bonnie hazel tree, + They be all a-growin' green in our ain countree." + +"I like those old songs," Angus approved. + +"So do I. Modern songs seem to me cheap things, written just to sell. +But the old ones--the real, old songs that were the songs of generations +before us--weren't really written at all. Somehow, when I sing them I +feel that I am almost touching the spirits of those who sang them many +years ago." She stopped abruptly. "And now you'll think I'm silly!" + +"Not a bit. Spirits! Old Murdoch McGillivray--" + +"Who was he?" + +"A friend of my father's. He had the gift." + +"The gift?" + +"I mean the second sight." + +"You believe in that?" + +"Well, he foretold his own death." + +"Not really?" + +"It comes to the same thing. The last night he was at our house he was +playing the pipes, and suddenly he stopped and would play no more. +Before he left he told my father he had seen himself lying dead beside +running water. A week after that they found him dead beside the creek. +What would you think?" + +"I don't know," Faith admitted. "It's a thin veil, and some may see +beyond." She shivered. "I wish you had the second sight yourself. Then +you might tell me what to do." + +"About what?" he asked. + +"Uncle Godfrey has made me an offer for my land, and I don't know +whether to accept it or not." + +"Will he give you a fair price?" + +"He offers the price paid for the land and the cost of the improvements +I have made." + +It seemed to Angus that Godfrey French had some conscience left. But it +might be less conscience than fear that the girl would find out how he +had cheated her father. Restitution was practically forced on him if he +had the money to make good, and apparently, in spite of what Judge Riley +had said, he had. + +"I would take his offer," Angus advised reluctantly, for it meant that +he would lose his neighbor. + +"Why?" + +"Why? Why, I've always told you you can't make a success of ranching." + +"And I've never admitted it. I'm gaining experience. And land is going +up." + +"Some land." + +"Then why not this? What is the matter with my land?" + +Angus evaded the direct challenge. "The place is too big for you. +There's a lot of it, like that little, round mountain, that's no good at +all." + +"Which is directly against your contention that the place is too big for +me. But if this land is worth what was paid for it, it should be worth +more to-day." + +Suddenly Angus began to wonder what had spurred French's conscience. + +"Why does he want to buy?" + +"Partly, he says, to take a white elephant off my hands; and partly for +Blake." + +"For Blake?" Angus exclaimed in amazement. + +"Blake wants a ranch of his own. You don't believe it?" + +"Not a word of it." + +"Perhaps Uncle Godfrey is merely inventing that reason. He may have no +other than a desire to take the property off my hands, if he thinks I +can't work it profitably." + +"It seems funny," Angus said, thoughtfully. "If he wants to buy for +Blake he may offer more. I don't think, after all, I'd be in a hurry to +decide." + +"I'll take that advice, and wait. But here we are at the house. Put +Chief in the stable. You'll stay for supper, of course." + +Angus stayed. But all evening he was preoccupied. Again and again he +went over the puzzle. Why did Godfrey French want to buy that dry ranch? +Why had he given a reason which was not a reason? Why had he lied about +Blake? He could find no satisfactory answers to these questions. + +His reflections were interrupted by the unexpected appearance of Blake +himself, and Blake was obviously half-drunk. He acknowledged Angus' +presence with a nod and a growl, and thereafter ignored him, devoting +himself to Faith. His attitude toward her was familiar, and when at his +request she went to the piano glad to escape his conversation, he leaned +over her, placing a hand on her shoulder, an action which made Angus +long to break his neck. But she rose from the piano. + +"No, I won't play any more. You must have some refreshments. Tea, coffee +or cocoa?" + +"Not strong on any of 'em," said Blake. "But all right if _you_ make +'em. Drink anything _you_ make, li'l girl!" + +Without reply Faith left the room, and without invitation Angus followed +her. In the hall she turned fury blazing in her eyes. + +"He's disgusting!" + +"Shall I send him home?" + +"He wouldn't go. I wish he would." + +"I can make him go," Angus said hopefully. "I'd like to." + +"No, no, that wouldn't do. I'll just have to put up with him. Perhaps +he'll be better. Why, there's somebody in the kitchen. I didn't know +Mrs. Foley had a visitor. Why, it's your man, Gus!" + +Gus was established in a chair which he had balanced on its hind legs +against the wall. Around its front legs his huge feet were hooked. A +pipe was clenched in his teeth, and on his face was placid content. + +"Yaas," he announced, "Ay ban purty gude man on a rench. Ay roon dat +rench for Engus, yoost like Ay roon him for hes fader." + +"Ye run th' ranch f'r th' ould man, did ye?" Mrs. Foley commented. + +"Sure," Gus affirmed. "Me and him we roon him. Engus, he don't know much +about a rench. If it ent for me, Ay tank he mek dam' fule out of the +whole t'ing." + +"Gawd, but ye hate yerself!" said his auditor. "If ye know so much, why +ain't ye got a half section or bether of yer own, instid of dhrillin' +along a hired man?" + +"Vell, Ay don't see yoost vat Ay like," Gus explained. "Ay mek gude +money." + +"Who gets it?" asked Mrs. Foley. "Th' barkeep?" + +Big Gus grinned. "Mebbe he gat some. But Ay got a stake saved up. Ven Ay +see a gude rench mebbe Ay buy him. But a faller alone on a rench haf +purty hard time. He needs a woman to cook and vash by him." + +"Is that so?" snorted Mrs. Foley. "But, be me sowl, I b'lieve ye're +tellin' the stark, naked trut' as ye see ut. That's all the loikes iv +yez sees in a woman." + +"Soome time," said Gus reflectively, "mebbe Ay gat me a voman." + +"Hiven help her!" said Mrs. Foley piously. Gus surveyed her calmly. + +"If Ay gat a voman," he announced, "Ay skall gat one dat ent no fule." + +"Any woman ye get will be," Mrs. Foley retorted with a meaning which got +past Gus entirely. + +"Vell, Ay don't know," he returned. "Some vomans is gat soome sense ven +dey gat old enough. Ay don't vant no good-lookin' young dancin' girl dat +don't know how to cook. Ay gat me soome day a rench, and a gude strong +voman like you, and settle down." + +Faith smothered her mirth with difficulty. "There's a pointer for you, +Angus!" she whispered. + +"Mrs. Foley will murder him now," he returned. + +"Ye have ut down fine," Mrs. Foley snorted, "an' all I hope is that ye +get a woman that'll lay ye out wid a rowlin' pin in life, an' wid a +cleaner shirt nor ye have on now, when yer time comes. An' ut's me +that's lit candles, head an' feet, for foour men already. Though belike +ut's no candles ye'll have to light yer way up or down. Phwat belief are +ye, ye big Swede?" + +Gus scratched his head and pondered. + +"Ay vote democrat in Meenneesota," he replied, "but Ay tank Ay ban +socialist now." + +"Agh-r-r!" snarled Mrs. Foley. "I mean phwat religion are ye, or ain't +ye?" + +Gus scratched his head again. + +"Ay tank mebbe Ay ban Christian," he said doubtfully. + +"Ay tank mebbe ye're a Scandahoovian haythen," Mrs. Foley mimicked. + +But the entrance of Faith and Angus cut short her further theological +research. Faith explained her wants. + +"It's for Blake French, Mary," she said. "He's--well, we thought he +might feel better if--" + +"Is he dhrunk, bad scran till him?" + +"Half," Angus nodded. + +"Then, instid of feedin' him why don't ye t'run him out?" + +"I'd be glad to, but--" + +"No, no," Faith broke in, "he may be better--" + +"A bad actor an' a raw wan is that same lad," Mrs. Foley announced with +conviction, "an' comin' around here too much. I am not yer mother, but +if I was--" + +"Please, Mary!" Faith cried, her cheeks scarlet. + +"Well, well," Mrs. Foley observed, "coffee an' pickles is th' best thing +f'r him, barrin' p'ison. Go yer ways, an' I'll bring ut in whin ready." + +They returned to the living room and the society of Blake. He met them +with a scowl. He chose to interpret the fact that he had been left alone +in the light of an insult. He was surly, glaring at Angus. The coffee, +cold meat and pickles which presently appeared did not change his mood. +The liquor dying in him left a full-sized grouch as a legacy. + +Angus ignored his attitude. Faith tried to make conversation, but it was +a failure. Time passed and it grew late. Apparently Blake was waiting +out Angus. The latter did not know what to do, but he had no intention +of leaving Blake behind him. Finally, however, he was forced to make a +move. He bade Faith good night. She turned to Blake. + +"Good night, Blake." + +"Oh, I'm not going yet," he announced. + +"It's late, Blake, and I'm tired." + +"I want to talk to you." + +"Not to-night, please. Come to-morrow." + +"No, I'll talk to you to-night." + +"Not to-night, Blake." + +"Well, you will," Blake declared with an oath. "Trying to get rid of me, +are you? And I suppose this Mackay--" + +"That will do now," Angus interrupted. "Be careful what you say." + +"Say!" Blake roared, his temper getting the better of his prudence, +"I'll say what I like. What business have you hanging around here? It's +time--" + +"It's time you went," Angus told him, "and you're going, do you savvy? +Come along, or I'll take you." + +"You--" Blake began, but got no further, for Angus slapped the words +back against his teeth and caught him by wrist and collar. + +The struggle was short and sharp. A couple of chairs went over. And then +Angus got his grip. + +"Give him th' bummer's run!" shrieked Mrs. Foley from the door. + +"Open the front door!" Angus commanded Gus. + +When it was open he shot Blake through with a rush and outside released +him. + +"Now, Blake French, I want to tell you something," he said. "You have a +dirty tongue in your head. See that you keep it between your teeth, and +mind that never again do you come here drunk. For as sure as you do and +I hear of it, I will break half the bones in your body. Is that plain +enough for you?" + +Blake swore deeply. "I'll get you for this," he threatened. + +"Then get me right," said Angus, "for the next time I lay my hands on +you I will break you. Remember that." + +Riding homeward beside Gus he thought over the events of the evening. It +seemed fated that he should lock horns with Blake. He regretted that he +had not thrown him out sooner. For the latter's threat he did not care +at all. As he looked at it Blake had not enough sand to make his words +good. + +"Ay tank," said Gus, "dat faller, Blake, he'd do purty dirty trick." + +"Maybe." + +Gus was silent for a mile. + +"Dat's purty fine voman," he announced. + +"Yes," Angus agreed absently, "Miss Winton is a fine girl." + +"Ay ent mean her," said Gus; "Ay mean dae Irish voman." + +Angus grinned in the darkness. "Sure," he said, "she's a fine, strong +woman." + +Gus sighed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +A DEMAND AND AN ANSWER + + +A few days after the episode with Blake, Angus busy in his workshop +ironing a set of whiffletrees, had a visit from Godfrey French. French +made the reason of it plain at once. + +"You know," he said, "that I have offered to buy my niece's land. She +doesn't want to sell, and in that I am under the impression that she is +acting on your advice? Is that so?" + +"At first I advised her to sell," Angus told him, "but when I thought it +over it seemed to me she shouldn't be in a hurry." + +French studied him for a moment. "What made you alter your advice?" + +"It doesn't pay to be in too much of a hurry to sell." + +"And sometimes it doesn't pay to refuse a fair offer. Now I was always +opposed to this foolish idea of hers that she could ranch, but I +couldn't prevent her doing it. I made up my mind, however, that she +should not lose by her play; that is that I would take the place off her +hands at cost, plus whatever she had spent on improvements, providing +these were not too expensive. I can do that now, but I can't pay for +more improvements, because I am not a rich man, and I can't keep the +offer open indefinitely. She must make her choice now. And so, as she +seems to rely on your opinion, I come to you. I hope you will persuade +her to take my offer and give up the absurd idea of ranching." + +Angus thought as rapidly as he could. + +"She told me you wanted to buy the place for Blake." + +French gave him a swift, keen glance of scrutiny. + +"And you didn't believe it?" + +"No," Angus admitted, "I didn't." + +French laughed. "And not believing it you drew the natural conclusion +that I had some other motive. Well, I will be quite frank with you: If I +had said I wanted to buy merely to take the property off her hands she +would not have allowed me to do it. But what I said about Blake is +partly true. I don't know that he himself wants to ranch--but I want him +to settle down. So that is the situation." + +Once more Angus did some swift thinking. + +"I don't know what to say about it," he admitted frankly. + +French's eyes narrowed a trifle in suspicion. + +"Do you think she can succeed--make the ranch pay eventually?" + +"No." + +"Do you think the land is worth more than I have offered?" + +"I don't know why it should be." + +"Then why not advise her to get rid of it?" + +"Because," Angus told him, "there are some things I don't understand at +all." + +"For instance?" + +"Well, in the first place the price her father paid was much more than +the land was worth at the time." + +"Doesn't that make my offer all the fairer?" + +"I don't understand how it was paid at all. The land wasn't worth half +of it then." + +"That is a matter of opinion." + +"There is no opinion about it. It's a matter of fact. Just as good land +could have been bought for two or three dollars an acre. And yet you +invested Winton's money in this at ten dollars." + +"Excuse me, but I did nothing of the sort. Winton had seen the land, +wanted it, and was looking for something to hold for years. As a matter +of fact, I advised him not to buy, because I considered the land too far +back to be readily salable if he ever wished to dispose of it. But he +instructed me to buy at the price at which it was held. I can show you +his letter to that effect." + +As this was entirely different from Faith's version, Angus was taken +aback. "But," he said, "last fall Braden tried to sell part of it to +Chetwood. How could he do that when it wasn't his?" + +"I told Braden to try to sell it, because the sale, if it had gone +through, would have given her in cash a large part of her father's +investment, and no doubt she would have ratified it. I thought and still +think it was the best thing that could be done. I understand that you +were responsible for that sale falling through." + +"It's a dry ranch, except for the spring." + +"Nonsense! There's a water record." + +"That record is more nonsense. You ought to know that if you are +thinking of buying the place for Blake." + +"I take that risk when I offer to purchase." + +"Yes," Angus admitted, "and that's another thing I don't understand." + +French's gray brows drew together for an instant. + +"If it is in my interest not to buy isn't it in my niece's interest to +sell?" + +"It looks like it," Angus admitted, "but still I don't understand--" + +"What?" Godfrey French demanded as Angus paused. "I have explained as +well as I can. Do you mean that my explanations are not satisfactory?" + +"Perhaps." + +"In what particular?" + +"They don't seem to explain." + +"What do you mean by that?" Godfrey French rasped. "Do you mean that you +question the truth of my words?" He frowned at Angus angrily. + +"You are putting words into my mouth," Angus replied. "But I mean just +this: The land was worth only about a quarter of what was paid for it. +You and Braden both knew it. If you had told Winton that, he wouldn't +have paid what he did unless he was crazy. I wonder why you let him pay +it. Now you want to buy back worthless land, and I wonder why." + +Their eyes met and held each other. In those of each was suspicion, +hostility. French moistened dry lips. + +"I admire your frankness," he said. "Have you told my niece that in your +opinion the land is worthless?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"I would rather not say." + +"I insist on an answer." + +"Very well," Angus returned. "I did not tell her, because she would have +wondered what sort of a man you were to let her father load himself up +with stuff like that, and I was not trying to make trouble." + +Godfrey French's fists clenched. "Thirty years ago," he said, "for that +you should have proved to me what sort of a man _you_ were." + +"Well, I can't help your age," Angus retorted. "I would not have told +you, but you would have it." + +"There are some things," said Godfrey French, "which it seems you do not +understand. But understand this very clearly. Hereafter you will keep +your nose out of things that don't concern you. You will keep away from +me and mine, which includes my niece. Do you understand that?" + +"I hear what you say," Angus returned. "But nobody but herself is going +to forbid me to go to your niece's ranch." + +"I forbid you," said Godfrey French. "I won't have you hanging around +there. I won't have her name coupled with yours." + +"I did not know it was being coupled," Angus said, "and I do not think +it is. But if it is--what then?" + +"What then!" Godfrey French exclaimed. "Have you the consummate +impudence to imagine that my niece would think twice of an ignorant +young hawbuck without birth or education? Bah! You're a young fool!" + +At the words, entirely insolent, vibrant with contempt, a hot fire of +anger began to blow within Angus. With all his heart he wished that +Godfrey French had been minus the thirty years he had regretted. + +"Those are hard words," he said, and it was characteristic of him that +as his anger rose his voice was very quiet. + +"True words," Godfrey French returned. + +"At any rate," Angus told him, "I make a clean living by hard work." + +"And I suppose you think 'A man's a man for a' that,'" Godfrey French +sneered. "Don't give me any rotten nonsense about democracy and +equality." + +"I am not going to," Angus replied. "I think myself that every tub +should stand on its own bottom. But if, as you seem to think, there is +something in a man's blood, then perhaps mine is as good as your own." + +"Fine blood!" Godfrey French commented with bitter irony. "Wild, hairy +Highlanders, caterans and reivers for five hundred years!" + +"Ay," Angus Mackay agreed with a grim smile, "and maybe for five hundred +years back of that. But always pretty men of their hands, good friends +and bad enemies, and ill to frighten or drive." Then, following the +custom of his blood, he returned insult for insult. He launched it +deliberately, coldly. "And it is not claiming much for the blood of a +Mackay to say it is as good as that which comes from any shockheaded +kernes spawned by a Galway bog." + +White to his twitching lips, Godfrey French struck him in the face. +Angus caught his hand, but made no attempt to return the blow. + +"I think you had better go," he said. "You have too many years on your +head for me." + +Godfrey French stepped back. + +"That is my misfortune," he said. "Well--I have sons. Remember what I +told you, young man." + +"I will remember," Angus said, "and I will do as I please. If your sons +try to make your words good they will find a rough piece of road." + +He watched Godfrey French drive away, and turned back to his work. But +presently he gave it up, sat down and stared at vacancy. For an hour he +sat, and was aroused from his brown study by Jean. + +"I've called and called you," she told him. + +"For what?" + +"For supper, of course. Heavens, Angus, what's wrong that you forget +your meals?" + +He did not answer for a moment. + +"I have been making up my mind about something." + +"About what?" + +"Just something I am going to do. I will tell you later." + +He ate supper, and immediately saddled Chief and rode away in the +direction of Faith Winton's ranch. + +Faith listened in amazement as he told her of the high price her father +had paid; of the abortive sale and his discovery that the land was +non-irrigable; and finally of French's request that he should advise her +to sell. + +"But why didn't you tell me these things before?" + +"I could not very well tell you while you were under his roof." + +"No, I suppose not. You are sure of what you say--that the land could +have been bought for so much less then, and that I can't get water on it +now?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Then why does he want to buy the ranch now?" + +"I wish I knew." + +"I am going to find out before I sell it. He lied about Blake, and I +don't believe he just wants to take it off my hands. There is some other +reason." + +"I think so myself, but I don't know what it is. There is something else +though. We had a few hard words, and the upshot of the whole thing was +that he forbade me to have anything to do with him or his. I suppose he +has that right. But also he forbade me to come here." + +The girl stared at him, amazed. + +"Is he crazy? He has no right--" + +"So I told him." + +"And you will always be welcome, while the ranch is mine, or beneath any +roof that is mine." + +"Thank you," he said simply. + +"But this is beyond everything!" she flamed indignantly. "I am not a +child. I make my own friends. I will tell him--" + +"He is an old man. Pay no attention to it. I am sorry, now, that I said +to him what I did." + +"What did you quarrel about? Tell me!" + +"About the whole thing, I think." + +"Then it was all on my account. From first to last, I've made trouble +for you. I am sorry." + +"You needn't be. All the trouble you have made me is a joy." + +"Why--Angus!" The color rose in the girl's cheeks. + +"Didn't you know it?" + +"I know you have been very--good--to me." + +"You have known more than that," he said. + +"No, good heavens, no! Angus--" + +"I have only known it myself since that day in the rain," he +interrupted. "Before that, I thought I was only helping you, as I would +have helped any woman--or man, either. But then I knew it was something +else. And to-day when Godfrey French said he would not have our names +coupled together--" + +"Oh!" the girl cried sharply. + +"And that you would not think twice of a rough, uneducated man like +myself," he pursued. "I decided to find out to-night whether he was +right or wrong." + +"He was wrong!" she cried. "That is--I mean--that you are not rough and +uneducated, and--" + +"I am both," Angus admitted gravely. "I have worked hard since I was a +boy, and what education I have I have got for myself. In that he was +right. And so I find it very hard to tell you what I want to, as a woman +should be told, because words do not come to my tongue easily, and never +did. The thoughts I have had I have always kept to myself, for that, and +because there was no one who would understand even if I could have put +them into words. And this is all I can say, that I love you as a man +loves one woman in his lifetime, and I want you for my wife. Is it yes +or no, Faith?" + +"But--Angus--I never thought of such a thing--not really, I mean. You +were always kind, helpful, but never like--like--" + +"Never like a lover?" + +"Well--no." + +Angus laid his great hands on her shoulders. The ordinary grimness of +his face was lacking. It was replaced by something ineffably tender. +Slowly he drew her to him until they stood breast to breast. + +"I can be like a lover, Faith," he said, "if you will have it so." + +For a long moment Faith Winton's clear eyes looked into his, and then +went blank as she searched her own heart for an answer and found it. + +"I will have it so--dear!" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +CROSS CURRENTS + + +Jean Mackay, rustling through the house with broom and duster after +breakfast, came on her brother reading what at first glance she took to +be a magazine. This gave her what was destined to be the first of a +string of surprises, for Angus never loafed around the house. + +"Shoo! Get out of here!" she said. "You'll get all choked with dust. I +declare I don't know where all the dirt comes from." + +In proof of her words she raised a cloud which made him cough. "Told you +so," she said. "Do go somewhere else, Angus. You're only in my way." + +"In a minute," he replied, frowning at his reading. + +"Where did you go last night--to Faith's?" + +"Uh-huh!" + +"You might have asked me to go along." + +"Huh!" + +"You're extra polite this morning!" his sister observed with irony. +"Whatever are you reading? Well, of all things! A jeweler's catalogue! +What on earth--" + +Angus held it out to her. + +"Here," he said, "I know nothing about such things. Pick out a ring." + +"A ring!" Miss Jean exclaimed, astounded. "I don't want a ring, I mean I +can get along without one." + +"That's lucky," said her brother, "because the ring I want you to pick +out is for Faith." + +"Good Lord!" cried Miss Jean, and fell limply upon a couch. Recovering +herself she rushed upon him, threw her arms around his neck, and +punctuated her words with emphatic hugs. "You big, old fraud. But I'm +glad, really I am. When--where--" + +"Last night," Angus told her. "That was what I was making up my mind +about. I didn't know whether I should ask her just now." + +"Why shouldn't you? If she cares--" + +"It wasn't that. You see I owe a good deal of money." + +"How much?" asked Jean, who knew little about the finances of the ranch. + +"Nearly ten thousand dollars." + +"What?" gasped Jean. "Impossible." + +"Nothing impossible about it. That includes the principal of the +mortgage father gave Braden when he bought that timber that was burnt +out afterwards. When I had to run the ranch I couldn't pay much +interest, and Braden carried it along. Then of course there was the hail +last year, and the drouth this. And I had to borrow money from him on my +note, to pay something that wasn't my fault, but couldn't be helped. Now +I have just had a letter from Braden saying that the mortgage and note +are past due. I suppose that's a matter of form, and I can make +arrangements with him." + +"And with all that you sent me off to get an education," said Jean +bitterly. "Oh, I wish--" + +"That was a mere drop in the bucket. Nobody can take that away from you, +no matter what happens. Now about this ring--" + +"Do you think you should buy one--now?" + +"I would buy a ring and a good one now if it took my share of the +ranch," Angus declared frowning. "You will pick out one that she can +wear in any company at all. Find out what she prefers, and get one like +it but a good deal better, and never mind the cost. And to save trouble, +you had better order a wedding ring at the same time." + +"Quick work!" beamed Miss Jean. "When _is_ the wedding?" + +"Wedding? I don't know," Angus admitted. "We didn't talk about that." + +"You're going to buy a wedding ring and you don't know when you'll be +married?" Miss Jean cried scandalized. + +"Well, we'll be married some time. I always order more repair parts of +machinery than I want, and they always come in handy. So will the ring." + +"Repairs! Machinery! Oh, my grief!" ejaculated Miss Jean. "I suppose you +_have_ a soul, but--Oh, well never mind!" She threw her broom recklessly +at a corner, and her dust cap after it. "Go and saddle Pincher for me, +will you? And you men will have to get your own dinner. I'm going over +to spend the day with my _sister_!" + +When she had gone, burning up the trail toward Faith's ranch, Angus +saddled Chief and rode to town, taking with him the notice he had +received from Mr. Braden. He looked upon it as a matter of form, and +attached little importance to it. With the undoubted security of the +ranch he anticipated no difficulty in securing an extension. + +"Of course," he said to his creditor, "I don't suppose this means just +what it says." + +"It means exactly what it says," Mr. Braden informed him. "The loan is +very badly in arrears, and I have made up my mind to call it in." + +"But the security is good for double the money." + +"Security isn't money. You are away behind. Then there is that note, +past due. I can't let these things run on indefinitely." + +"You always told me not to worry about interest payments." + +"It doesn't look as if you did worry about them. I carried you along +because you were a mere boy, and under the circumstances I couldn't +press for money. But you have increased your debt instead of decreasing +it. I have been easy, that's what I've been--too easy. I can look back +at my dealings with you," Mr. Braden continued with virtuous +satisfaction, "and I can truly say that I have dealt tenderly with +the--er--fatherless. But of course there's a limit." + +"Well, if you feel that way about it, the only way I can pay up is to +get a loan elsewhere." + +"There's another way," Mr. Braden told him. "I make the suggestion to +help you out, principally. If you will sell the place I will take it +over at a fair price, and pay you the difference in cash." + +"I don't want to sell." + +"Think it over. The ranch is saddled with a heavy debt. _You_ are +saddled with more than a young man should be called on to carry. _You_ +are the one who will have to pay, if you keep the ranch, by your own +hard work. You will be handicapped for years, deprived of many things +you would otherwise have. On the other hand," Mr. Braden continued, +warming to his subject, "if you sold this place all debt would be wiped +out, you would have a nice lump sum in cash, and you would be as free +as--er--birds. You could take a year's holiday, travel, or," he added, +seeing no signs of enthusiasm in Angus' face, "you could go into one of +the new districts just opening up, buy virgin land, full of--of--er--" + +"Full of alkali?" Angus suggested gravely. + +"Alkali! Not at all," said Mr. Braden frowning. "'Potentialities' was +the word I had in mind. Yes, full of potentialities. In a new district +you would become prosperous, free from the ball and chain of debt. That +is the sensible course. Now what do you think of it?" + +"Not much," said Angus. + +"Huh! Why not?" Mr. Braden inquired, plainly disappointed at this +reception of his disinterested advice. + +"Because I have a good ranching proposition here. And you wouldn't pay +what the land will be worth some day if I hang on." + +"What will it be worth?" + +"About a hundred dollars an acre." + +"You're right, I wouldn't pay it," Mr. Braden concurred. "Ridiculous. I +would give you say twenty dollars, all around, and that's more than it's +worth." + +"Just as it stands--stock, implements and all?" + +Mr. Braden looked at Angus, but failed to read his face. + +"That's what I had in mind. But if you were making a start elsewhere and +needed some of the implements and stock--why I wouldn't insist. Say for +the land alone." + +Angus laughed. + +"All right, laugh!" said Mr. Braden frowning. "Go and get a new loan, +then. And don't lose any time about it, either." + +"You seem to be in a hurry." + +"I never delay business matters," Mr. Braden replied. "Get your loan, +and get it at once. Otherwise I shall exercise the rights which the +mortgage gives me." + +"That is plain enough," said Angus. + +"It's intended to be," said Mr. Braden. + +Thence Angus went to Judge Riley's office and told him the situation. +The Judge jotted figures on a pad. + +"To clean up you will want nearly eleven thousand dollars," he said. +"That's a large sum for this country." + +"The property is worth three or four times that." + +"Yes, on a basis of land at so much per acre. But uncultivated land +isn't productive. You have to pay interest out of what you grow. Few +concerns will lend money on raw land. Then you are borrowing to pay off +accumulated debts, and not to improve property, buy stock or the like. +These things have an important bearing. You may have trouble in getting +money. And I think Braden will try to see that you have." + +"What will he have to do with it?" + +"Bless your innocence, he knows the loan companies operating here, and +their appraisers. They'll ask him what sort of a borrower you have been +and are apt to be, and why he is calling his loan in, and he'll knock +you as hard as he can. He doesn't want the loan paid off. He wants to +sell you out, and buy the place in. He is still at the old game. He'll +try to work it now by a mortgage sale." + +"But that would be a public sale. He'd have to bid against others." + +"Nobody in this country has money enough to pay a fair price for the +ranch as a whole. That would practically knock out competition. That's +what he is counting on." + +"He hasn't got me yet," said Angus. "It's funny, but old French is +trying to buy out Miss Winton, too." He told the lawyer of French's +offer. + +"Then Braden is putting up the money for French," the lawyer deduced. "I +don't understand it any more than you do, but I do know that neither of +these men would knowingly buy anything valueless. So far as your place +is concerned, the value is there. As to the other it doesn't seem to be. +But I think you did right in advising her not to sell." + +Angus rode homeward thoughtfully. His thoughts affected his pace, and so +when under ordinary circumstances he would have been home, he was little +more than halfway. Chief suddenly pricked his ears, and Angus became +aware of Kathleen French upon her favorite horse, Finn. She seemed to +have been riding hard, for his coat was wet and his flanks drawn and +working. + +"What's the hurry?" he asked. She brushed her loosened hair away from +her forehead. + +"He wanted to run and I let him. I'll ride along with you now." + +"I suppose you know that your father wouldn't like it?" + +"This isn't the Middle Ages," she replied scornfully. "These family +feuds make me tired. I have no quarrel with you." + +"I don't want to make trouble for you." + +"You won't," she told him. "I can look after myself." + +They descended a steep grade, which at the bottom made a sharp turn +opening upon a flat through which ran a little creek. As they made the +turn they came face to face with Blake French, Gerald and Larry. At +sight of Kathleen their faces expressed astonishment. Blake uttered an +oath. + +"What the devil are you doing with him?" he demanded. + +"Riding with Angus Mackay!" said his sister. "I'll ride with any one I +like, when I like. Do you get that, Blake? Pull out. You're blocking the +trail." + +Gerald French laughed. "I thought you were up to something, Kit." + +"That's what I thought about you," she retorted. + +As Angus rode past the French boys, who had not addressed him at all, he +met their eyes. Their stares were level, hard, insolent. He rode on, +half angry and much puzzled. Kathleen lifted her horse into a lope and +he followed. Then she pulled to a walk. + +"The boys didn't like you being with me," he said. + +"Never mind what they like. I'm glad I was in time--" She broke off, but +a sudden light dawned on Angus. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Is that what you were running your horse for? You +mean they were waiting for me?" + +He wheeled Chief abruptly, but more quickly she spun Finn on his heels, +blocking the back trail. + +"I won't let you go back!" she cried. + +"That was a nice trick to play on a man!" he told her indignantly. + +"And that's a man gratitude!" she retorted bitterly. + +"Gratitude! I know you meant well, and I thank you. But it looks as if I +had hidden behind your skirts, and I am not that kind of a man. I am +going back." + +"You are not. I won't have any trouble between you and the boys to-day. +You said you didn't want to make trouble. Well, then, don't." + +"I don't want to make trouble, but I am not going to run away from it. +If your brothers want to take up their father's quarrel--and I am not +saying they haven't the right to, mind you--I will meet them half way. +I am not going to be hunted by them in a pack. I don't have to be +rounded up. If there is going to be trouble I am going to have some say +about the time of it." + +"And so am I," Kathleen declared. "I will put a stop to this." + +"Men's affairs must be settled by men," he told her. + +"I believe you are all savages at heart," she said. "This will blow over +if you will let it. Whether you like it or not, I am going to interfere. +I blame Blake for this." + +"You may be right. I had to put him out of Faith's house the other +night. He was drunk." + +"Pah!" said Blake's sister in disgust. "I'm glad you told me. He has +been going there lately, I knew. Well, I'll see that he stops _that_." + +"You need not bother. I will look after that myself. Faith won't be +there long." + +"Is she going to sell? I'm glad of it." + +"I don't know about selling. But she is coming to my ranch." + +"On a visit to Jean?" + +"No, she is going to marry me." + +The girl stared at him. He saw a flood of color rush to her cheeks and +recede, leaving her face white. Her strong hand gripped the saddle horn +hard. + +"She is--going--to marry you!" she said in a voice little more than a +whisper. + +"Yes," Angus replied, "why shouldn't she? She is too good for me, I +know, but I hope you don't think, like your father, that I am not fit to +marry her." + +Kathleen French smiled with stiff lips. + +"What rot!" she said. "I didn't know my father thought anything of the +kind, and certainly I don't. I hope you will be very happy. When did it +happen?" + +Angus told her, but it was a subject on which he did not care to +enlarge. Where the trail forked to the French ranch they parted and he +rode on. But if he had turned back and ridden half a mile on the other +trail, and two hundred yards to the right behind a thick growth of +cottonwoods, he would have seen a girl lying on the ground, her face +buried in her arms, while a big, bay horse with a sweat-dried coat stood +by flicking the flies and regarding his mistress wonderingly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +CONSPIRACY + + +On the chance that, after all, water might be got on Faith's ranch, +Angus had his own levels checked by a surveyor. The result was to +confirm them. Thus most of the level land was undoubtedly worthless for +agricultural purposes. As for the rest of the property, it was hill and +coulee and included the round mountain. Angus had ridden over it and +hunted through it and he thought he had nothing to learn about it. He +dismissed it with contempt. The only reasonable explanation of French's +desire to purchase seemed to be that he was acting for Braden and that +Braden had some purchaser in view. That being so, it would pay to hold +out for a better offer. + +So far as his own affairs were concerned, the outlook was not promising. +His loan applications were turned down cold by various loan companies, +as Judge Riley had feared. And one day he received a formal demand for +payment of mortgage and note, coupled with an intimation that, failing +immediate payment, legal proceedings would follow. + +"Yes, I thought this was about due," Judge Riley said when Angus showed +him the letter of Mr. Braden's lawyers. "There are no grounds for +defending the actions, that I know of." + +"The money is owing, no doubt about it. And I can't pay it." + +"Then it will have to be realized upon the security. I'm sorry, my boy. +I don't know where you can raise a loan. If I had the money I'd lend it +to you myself, but I haven't. Braden will get his judgments and sell." + +Angus himself saw nothing else for it. This, then, was the end of his +years of work, of struggle, of self-denial. The land he had promised his +father to hold would be sold and bid in by Braden for a fraction of its +value. For himself, so far as the financial loss went, he did not care +especially. But with it Jean's share would be swallowed up. Without any +fault of his own, so far as he could see, he had failed in his duty to +her. And the thought was bitter. + +As he walked down the street his thoughts went back over the years. He +could not attribute his failure to lack of hard work, to lack of +planning, to lack of care. All these he had given, without stint. The +seasons had been against him, but they had been against others. He had +lost cattle mysteriously, but that was merely an incident. There was the +fire which had destroyed his hay, but his own brother was responsible +for that. Finally there was the ruin of his present crop by the +destruction of the ditch. That was the only definite act of hostility on +which he could lay his finger. But apart from that he could not have +paid Braden. + +If he was to lose the ranch it did not matter who had wrecked his ditch. +Turkey would be hoist by his own petard. Angus smiled grimly at the +thought that his brother had contributed to his own loss. And just then +he saw Turkey going through the door of Braden's office. To Angus it was +as if a searchlight had been turned upon a dark corner, as if a switch +had been closed establishing a connection. + +Up to that moment he had seen no object, other than spite, in the +wrecking of the ditch. But now, as things were turning out anything +which injured him financially would further Braden's carefully laid +plans to obtain the ranch. Might he not be responsible? There, at last, +was motive, the thing he had sought vainly. + +The idea was new and amazing. But once formed it grew in probability. +Would Turkey deliberately lend himself to a plan to deprive not only +Angus but Jean and himself of the ranch? Likely he had not thought of +that. The boy had been a catspaw without knowing Braden's ultimate +purpose. There were others besides Braden in the game. Braden himself +did not do the work of destruction; but no doubt he had instigated and +paid for it. As to these others, Angus made up his mind to settle the +score with them if he ever found out their identity. Never again would +he lay a hand on Turkey. As for Braden--his mouth twisted scornfully at +the thought of the latter's fat body in his grip. + +But Turkey's visit to Mr. Braden's office was with quite a different +object than Angus' interpretation of it. Between Turkey and Mr. Braden +there was little more cordiality than on the day when the latter had +patted the boy on the head. When he had left the ranch Mr. Braden had +extended sympathy, condemned Angus for harshness; but Turkey had been +unresponsive. He looked on family quarrels as the exclusive property of +the family. + +Turkey knew of the mortgage which Mr. Braden held but nothing of its +condition. The burden of financing the ranch had been upon Angus, and he +had not shared it. Nor did Turkey know anything of the further sum Angus +had borrowed. And so Turkey, if he thought of the mortgage at all, +assumed that it was all right. It was Angus' business. + +He heard of the action which Mr. Braden was taking quite by accident. On +the occasion when Angus had seen him entering the office he had gone +there merely with reference to a transaction in cattle in which Garland +was interested. But on hearing that Braden had launched a mortgage +action, he went there to get first-hand information. + +"Do you mean," he queried with a scowl when Mr. Braden had stated the +case succinctly, "that the ranch will be sold?" + +"I am afraid there is nothing else for it," Mr. Braden replied in +regretful tones. "I offered to buy it at a fair price, but your brother +wouldn't sell." + +"He wouldn't, hey!" + +Mr. Braden shook his head sadly. "I am sorry to say that the present +condition of affairs is due to his recklessness and mismanagement." + +"Huh!" said Turkey. + +"It would have been much better," said Mr. Braden, "if I had insisted +upon my original view after your father cash--er--was called hence. I +felt that your brother was incompetent, and results have proved it. I +was weak; yes, I admit that I was weak." + +"Then the size of it is, that we lose the ranch?" + +"If my claim is satisfied otherwise I shall be very glad. But of course +I have to protect myself." + +"Who gets it? You?" + +"It will be sold publicly to the highest bidder." + +"Is that you?" + +"I may have to bid it in to protect myself," Mr. Braden explained. "It +is forced on me, and I fear others--you and your sister--must suffer for +your brother's incompetence." + +Turkey, scowling said nothing for a moment. + +"I remember the day you came to the ranch after father died," he said at +last irrelevantly. + +"Um," Mr. Braden returned. "I felt very deeply for you in your +bereavement. You were quite a small boy then. I--er--patted you on the +head." + +"I didn't know you then," said Turkey, "but do you know what I thought?" + +"No," smiled Mr. Braden. "I suppose you stood somewhat in awe of me, my +boy." + +"I thought you were a fat, old crook," Turkey announced. + +"Hey!" Mr. Braden ejaculated. + +"Of course, I know you better now," Turkey added. + +"Yes, yes, just so," said Mr. Braden with comprehension. "Childish +impressions. Most amusing. Ha-ha! Huh!" + +Turkey looked him in the eye. + +"And now you're fatter and older," he said deliberately, "and I believe +you're a damned sight crookeder than I thought you were then. You +pork-faced old mortgage shark, I'll like to burn your ears off with a +gun!" + +Mr. Braden gasped. Turkey's voice was as venomous as his words. His +hard, young mouth twisted bitterly as he spoke. "You're damned anxious +to sell the ranch, aren't you?" he went on. "Angus had the right steer +about you. He thought you were trying to put something over. I was a +kid, and he wasn't much more, but we both had you sized for a crook. +Well, we're not kids now. Since I left the ranch I've been hearing about +you. I'll tell you what I've heard." + +Mr. Braden expressed no undue anxiety to hear. "I don't know what you +have heard and I don't care. If you can't talk decently, get out of +here." + +"In a minute," said Turkey, "when I've told you what I think of you." + +His spoken opinion caused Mr. Braden to change color from time to time, +but the prevailing hue was red. + +"Get out of my office!" he roared, rearing his impressive bulk against +Turkey's slimness. "Get out or I'll throw you out!" + +"Shucks!" said Turkey with contempt, and dug a hard, young thumb into +Mr. Braden's forward over-hang. "That's the only thing you can throw +out, you old tub of lard. You'll drop dead some day with a rotten heart. +And now I'm telling you something: I guess I can't stop you from selling +the ranch, but if you do, I'll get you somehow, if you live long +enough." + +Turkey, as he went down the street from this interview, was in a +poisonous temper. His was the impotent rage of youth, which failing +expression in physical violence, finds itself at a complete loss. Though +he had said a number of highly insulting things, he was not satisfied. +He told himself that he did not care a hoot about Angus, nor about his +own prospective share in the ranch, which would be wiped out by a forced +sale. But he thought it hard luck for Jean. In spite of their quarrel, +he recognized that his brother had done most of the work for years. The +thought that a pork-faced old mortgage shark should get the ranch that +had been his father's was bitter. + +However, he did not know what could be done about it. No doubt Angus had +consulted old Riley. The law was against him. The darn law, Turkey +reflected, was always against the ordinary man, which was not to be +wondered at since it was made by darn crooks. Coming such, Turkey +unconsciously sighed for the good, old days of stock which had no +special respect for the law, as days when dispossession was attended by +difficulties other than legal. + +Under the circumstances, it seemed to Turkey that he should have a +drink. To get it he went around the block to a hostelry immediately +behind Mr. Braden's office. There he had a drink with the proprietor, +one Tom Hall. Then Tom had one with him. Five minutes later both had two +more with two strangers. Hall took his drinks from a private bottle +which contained cold tea. But four drinks of the kind he dispensed to +customers furnished a very fair foundation. Turkey had nothing +particular to do. Thus the end of a decidedly imperfect day found him +gently slumbering in an upstairs room of Tom's place. + +When he awoke it was dark. He did not know where he was, and did not +care. Being young and in perfect health he had not the traditional +"splitting head." He was very dry, but that was all. He lay still, and +remembered that Tom had helped him to that room, taken off his boots and +told him to sleep it off. Apparently he had. + +The window was open and the night air blew softly upon his face, +bringing with it the sound of voices from the next room. He heard the +scraping of chairs, the pop of a safety match, the clink of glass. Then +the voices became more audible, as if the occupants of the room had +drawn closer to the window. Listening idly, Turkey caught his own +surname. In a moment it was repeated. + +In spite of the adage concerning what listeners are apt to hear of +themselves, and all honorable theories against eavesdropping, the +average person hearing his own name will prick up his ears. Turkey +rolled softly out of the bed, and in his stockinged feet went to the +window. + +It was a rear window, looking out upon the roofs of sheds and the backs +of other buildings. The night was dark and, save for a soft breeze, +quiet. The first words Turkey heard were calculated to destroy any +scruples. + +"I thought the boys were going to beat Mackay up," said a voice which at +first he could not identify. Another voice which he knew for Garland's +replied: + +"They will, later. Blake has it in for him good and plenty." + +"Over that girl on the dry ranch, I s'pose," the other speculated. + +"There's a lot of things." + +"Blake's a darn fool," said the other, and now Turkey knew the voice. It +was Poole's. "He's too fond of women and booze. He's in a mess right +now. That klootch wants him to marry her." + +"She's got another guess coming." + +"Well," said Poole judicially, "if he ain't going to marry her, if I was +him I'd pull out for a while. Some of her folks might lay for him." + +"She hasn't got any folks but her grandfather." + +"At that, some of these old bucks is bad medicine. Well, it's none of +our funeral. When will the Mackay ranch be sold?" + +"Soon as the old man can work it. I wish we could touch him up for some +coin. I'm broke." + +"Me, too," said Poole. "Trouble is we ain't got nothing on him. We +couldn't give him away without giving ourselves away, and he knows it. +We couldn't prove a darn thing, anyway. _He_ didn't rustle them cattle +either time, nor he didn't blow out Mackay's ditch in the dry spell. We +couldn't prove that he even knew of them things, let alone framed 'em up +and paid for 'em. He'd give us the laugh if we tried to hold him up." + +Turkey, leaning out into the night, listened in amazement. So the stock +had been rustled. The speaker could not refer to anything else. But what +was this about the ditch? Turkey made a swift deduction which was fairly +accurate. That was what Angus meant when he had demanded the names of +men responsible for something unknown to Turkey. Somehow, Angus had +connected him with it. It must have been through his knife. That must +have been found on the ground, and Angus had naturally assumed that he +had been there. At this point obstinacy had prevented an understanding, +set him and Angus at cross-purposes, and led to a fresh quarrel. + +Turkey ground his teeth softly and cursed beneath his breath. So that +was the stuff that was being put over on Angus. The "old man" must be +Braden. For the first time, Turkey began to see clearly through the +mists of hurt, boyish pride, to perceive realities undistorted by +youthful grievances. Angus might not have been tactful--but he had been +right. And he, Turkey, instead of helping his own had deserted them. + +In Turkey's inner being sounded the rallying call of the blood. It was +no time for family feuds. If he had been a young fool, he would make up +for it. He would play a lone hand, taking his time, and he would play +more than even. But now he must not lose a word. + +"The old man's pretty darn smooth," Poole went on. "Take that time he +lent Mackay money to make good them bets he was holdin'. That put Mackay +further in the hole to him. It's lucky Mackay don't know who rapped him +on the head and rolled him that night. You get a feller like him on the +prod, and I'd rather take chances on a mad grizzly. You take that kid +brother of his, too. There's a bad actor. You can see it in his eye." + +"He's just a young fool," Garland said contemptuously. "He hates his +brother like poison. I wish he'd blown his head off. There was some sort +of a gun play, I know." + +"And that's what I'm tellin' you. The big man would kill a man with his +hands, but the kid would go for a gun fast and quiet. If he knew he'd +been trailed home that night he was full and the stack fired, there'd be +trouble." + +"If the stable had gone with the hay it would have thrown a crimp into +Mackay. I don't savvy why it didn't go. The wind was right." + +Suddenly the blackness of the back wall of the building opposite was +split by a slot of light, revealing a railed landing on a level with the +second story. A bulky figure stepped out and the light disappeared. Came +the creak of wooden steps beneath a heavy body. Garland swore softly. + +"There he is now!" + +"The old man?" + +"Sure. There's an outside flight of steps from the back up to his room. +I wonder what he's up to. Douse our light for a minute." + +The light in the next room went out and Turkey drew back. His neighbors +evidently occupied the window. From the darkness beneath came the sound +of a badly-hung door rasping on its hinges. + +"There's a shed down there he keeps a lot of old plunder in," Garland +observed. + +A silence of minutes and the door rasped again. Following that came a +series of metallic sounds and once more the creak of steps. The slot of +light of an open doorway appeared again. The bulky figure showed in it, +carrying some heavy object hung in its right hand. Then the door +closed, all but a crack through which a light filtered. + +"He was carrying something," said Garland. "Could you see what it was?" + +"No. Sounded like a milk can or a tin trunk." + +The light went on again in the next room, but the men moved away from +the window, and Turkey heard no more than odd snatches of conversation +which were not relevant to his affairs. Listening proving unprofitable, +Turkey softly opened his door and carrying his boots went downstairs. +Nobody seemed to be about. He went down a hall to a rear door and slid +out into the night. Thence he picked his way through the litter of a +back yard to the foot of the flight of steps which led to Mr. Braden's +apartments, and leaving his boots at the bottom ascended with great +care. + +Turkey had identified the object which Mr. Braden had brought back with +him as a typewriter in its carrying case. To Turkey it seemed +mysterious. Why should Braden who had two perfectly good machines in his +office below, go out the back way and bring in a machine from an old +shed? It was funny. But he had made up his mind to find out all he could +about Braden and his doings, and to start at once. Braden had been +playing a crooked game right along. If Turkey could catch him in +anything--get something on him--it might help to save the ranch. If not +that, it would help him to play even. He put his eye to the crack of the +door. + +He saw Braden and Godfrey French. They were at a table on which stood a +typewriter, and Braden appeared to be signing some legal documents. They +were talking, but Turkey could not distinguish words. Presently French +rose, folded up some papers and put them in an inner pocket. Braden went +with him to the door which was the ordinary entrance to the apartment, +and gave upon a hall and flight of stairs leading down to the office. + +Turkey went down the outside stairs and put on his boots. He was +disappointed in not being able to over-hear their conversation, but he +had heard a good deal that night. + +What would he do? + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +WHILE SHELLING PEAS + + +Miss Jean, spick and span in a cool dress of wash fabric, took a +critical survey of herself in the mirror, and adjusted a wide shade hat +at exactly the right angle. Then, taking a bright tin pan she sallied +forth into the afternoon sun. Her course led her back of the house, +through the orchard, and finally to a garden patch a couple of acres in +extent. There, by a strange coincidence, Chetwood was working among the +plants. At sight of her he paused, straightened his back and leaned upon +his hoe. + +"Oh, are _you_ here?" said Miss Jean in tones of extreme surprise. +Chetwood looked down at his feet, tapped his head and finally pinched +himself. + +"Rather," he announced gravely. "At least my mortal body seems to be." + +"Don't let me interrupt you," said Miss Jean. "I came to pick peas." + +"I'll help you." + +"I don't require help, thanks." + +"You might get thorns in your fingers." + +"Peas haven't thorns!" said Miss Jean scathingly. "You ought to know +that by this time." + +"Observation has taught me that in this world one finds thorns in the +most unexpected places. Even roses--fragrant, blushing roses--" + +"Don't be absurd!" + +"Then let me help you pick peas." + +"But the garden needs hoeing." + +"The bally thing always needs hoeing," Chetwood commented with deep +resentment. "It has an insatiable desire to be tickled with a hoe. What +a world it would be if weeds would die as easily as plants, and plants +thrive as carelessly as weeds. Bright thought, what?" + +"Nonsense!" said Miss Jean. + +"Oh, I say! It's really profound." + +"It's profoundly silly. You had better stick to the hoe." + +"My back is broken." + +"Well," Miss Jean relented, "you may help me if you like." + +On either side of tall vines trained on brush they began to pick the +big, fat Telephones. Now and then, in the tangle of the vines, their +fingers touched, as both reached for the same pod. + +"This beats hoeing," Chetwood announced. + +"I'm afraid you're lazy." + +"I am. I always was. But to help a girl, especially a pret--" + +"If you are going to be silly I shall go to the other end of the row." + +"'O stay,' the young man said, 'and rest thy weary head up--'" + +Miss Jean promptly picked up the pan and marched to the other end of the +row. Chetwood followed her. + +"They _are_ better here," he said. "It's a genuine pleasure to pick such +peas together." Miss Jean did not reply. "Don't you like to pick peas +with me?" + +"When you talk sensibly I don't object. There, the pan's full. Thanks +very much." + +"And now we'll shell them." + +"I'll take them to the house to shell." + +"Please don't. Here is shade, running water, the company of an +industrious young man. You can't overlook a combination like that--if +you have a heart." + +"It _is_ nice shade," Miss Jean admitted. + +They sat in it, the pan piled with peas between them, and began to +shell. Miss Jean's hand diving for a pea, encountered Chetwood's and was +held fast. + +"Mr. Chetwood!" + +Without relinquishing his prize that gentleman set the pan aside and +with considerable agility seated himself beside Miss Jean. + +"My full name is Eustace William Fitzroy Chetwood. I prefer the second. +William is a respectable name. Do you know what it means?" + +"I didn't know it meant anything." + +"Oh, yes; it means 'Bill.' I answer beautifully to 'Bill.'" + +"Will--" + +"'Bill'!" + +"Will you please let go my hand?" + +"'What we have we hold' is a good motto. It seems a sound system to hold +what I have." + +Miss Jean sighed. "Then of course I can't shell peas, and you won't have +any for supper." + +"Hang supper! Jean, darling, how long are you going to keep me in +suspense?" + +"I'm not keeping you at all; and you mustn't call me 'darling.'" + +"Are you going to keep me waiting seven years, as Rebecca kept Joseph?" + +"It wasn't Rebecca or Joseph." + +"Well, it doesn't matter; I had the waiting part of it right. I can feel +the strain telling on me, and when I look into your eyes--like this--" + +Here Miss Jean shut her eyes. Chetwood being human did the natural +thing. Miss Jean wrenched her hand away and rubbed her cheek. + +"How dare you!" she demanded with really first-class indignation. + +"I don't know; but like Warren Hastings, I am astonished at my own +moderation. I should have kissed you before. And I am going to kiss you +again." + +Though the prospect did not seem to dismay Miss Jean, she removed +herself swiftly to a distance of several feet, and further consolidated +her position by placing the pan of peas between them. + +"Shell peas--Eustace!" she said. Chetwood ground a set of perfect teeth. + +"You want to drive me crazy, I see that," he said. "You're too dangerous +to be running around loose. You need a firm hand--like mine. Now--" + +What followed was very bad for the peas. Some minutes later Miss Jean, +raising hands to a flushed face and sadly tilted hat, regarded them in +dismay. + +"Now see what you've done!" + +Chetwood grinned. "Will you carry sweet peas?" he asked. "If we are +married early in September--" + +"September!" Miss Jean gasped. "I couldn't think of such a thing, +Bil--ly!" + +"You can when you get used to it," Chetwood assured her. "Like getting +into hot water, you know." + +"It may be a good deal like it," Miss Jean observed reflectively. + +"Eh! Oh, I didn't mean that." + +"I know you didn't, but it might be true, all the same. We can't be +married for a long time." + +"Why can't we?" the lover demanded. + +"For a number of perfectly good reasons," Jean replied, a grave little +pucker coming upon her forehead. + +"Wrinkles!" cried Chetwood. "But I'll love you just as much when--" + +"Well, goodness knows, I've enough worries without getting married." + +"Cynic!" + +"Maybe, but I hope I have some horse sense. Now to start with, +Billy--and please don't be offended--I'd like you to make good, more or +less, before I marry you." + +"In what way?" + +"Well, I'd like you to have a ranch of your own." + +"Any special one?" + +"Don't joke about it," Jean reproved him. "You'll find it serious +enough. As you haven't any money now you can't buy a ranch. And so +you'll have to homestead." + +Chetwood stared at her for a moment and gulped. "I keep forgetting I'm a +hired man. Go on." + +"It's doing you good. You're getting a knowledge of ranching. I think +you know almost enough now to take up a homestead." + +"But," Chetwood objected, "I'd have to live on the blinking thing in a +beastly, lonely shack." + +"Plenty of good men have lived in lonely shacks." + +"I didn't mean that. I meant that I shouldn't see you more than perhaps +four or five times a week. Now--" + +"You may not see me at all. I'll tell you why, presently. Anyway, I +wouldn't let you waste your time. I'm serious. You see, Billy--" here +Miss Jean blushed--"you'd be working on your homestead for--for _us_." + +"Oh, Lord!" said Chetwood. "That is--I mean--yes, of course. Inspiring +thought and all that sort of thing, what? But how much nicer it would be +if I were able to look forward to seeing you in our humble door as I +came home weary from my daily toil, with--er--roses and honeysuckle and +all that sort of thing clambering about don't you know, and the sweet +odor of--of--" + +"Of what, Billy?" Miss Jean prompted softly, in her eyes the expression +of one who gazes upon a fair mental picture. "Of what, Billy?" + +"Of pies," Chetwood replied raptly. "Ah! Um!" + +"Of wha--a--t!" Miss Jean cried, coming out of her reverie with a start. + +"Of pies cooking," Chetwood repeated. "Nice, juicy pies." + +"Pies--bah!" Miss Jean ejaculated. + +"Say not so," Chetwood responded. "I admire pie. The land of my birth, I +sadly admit, is deficient in pie. But here I adopt the customs of the +country. I am what might be called a pie--oneer--" + +"Ugh! Awful!" Miss Jean shuddered. + +"Now I thought that quite bright." + +"That's the saddest part of it." + +"My word, what a--er--slam! Strange that you should feel such a sincere +affection for--" + +"I don't know whether I do or not!" + +"Then, Miss Mackay," Chetwood demanded, "what is the meaning of your +conduct?" + +Miss Jean bit her lip, blushed, and finally decided to laugh. "I was +getting sentimental for a moment," she confessed. "Your little word +picture had me going. And all the time you were fooling. That's +dangerous, young man." + +"No, on my word I wasn't," Chetwood protested. "I meant it. Only I got +stuck for a word, and I just happened to think of--pie." + +"I'm glad you did," Jean admitted. "What I like about you is that you're +cheerful all the time. Angus sulks like a--a mule. So does Turkey. Oh, I +do, too. We all do. But you always have a smile and a joke, though +sometimes they're awful." + +"Both of 'em?" + +"The smiles are all right," Jean admitted. "But do you know, I've never +seen you serious about anything. And it seems to me that a man who has +a--well, a real purpose in life should be--now and then." + +"Perhaps I never had one." + +"Well, now you've got me." + +"Eh! By Jove, so I have. I'll live in a shack if you say so, but I'd +rather stay on here a bit. I'm learning all the time." + +"That brings me to another reason. There may be no 'here' to stay on +at--so far as we are concerned." + +She told him the situation briefly. "And so, you see, we may not have a +ranch at all. Then Angus would go away and take up land, and I might go +with him." + +"So would I if he'd have me. It would be rather jolly." + +"Nonsense!" said Jean. "Making a new ranch isn't fun; it's hard work. +And then, on top of it all, what do you think Angus is going to do?" + +"Wring old Braden's neck, I hope." + +"He's going to get married!" + +"Hooray!" cried Chetwood. "Nail the flag to the mast! Derry walls and no +surrender! Give hostages--er--I mean that's the spirit. Also an example. +Let's follow it. What's sauce for the Mackay gander ought to be sauce +for--er--" + +"I'm not a goose," she pouted prettily. + +"Duck!" Chetwood suggested. + +"Don't be silly. It's a different proposition entirely." + +"Why?" Jean did not reply. "Why, Jean?" + +"Because Angus can look after himself--and a wife." + +Chetwood's perennially cheerful expression sobered. "That's rather a +hard one. I'm not quite helpless, really." + +"I'm sorry," Jean said simply. "But I meant just what I said. The +country is new to you and you're new to the country, and we can't be +married till you find yourself. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. I'm +putting it up to you to make good, Billy." + +Chetwood nodded soberly, but his eyes smiled. + +"I'll make good," he said. "I'll go and see this Judge Riley--about a +homestead. And now, Jean darling, will you oblige me by the size of that +pretty little third finger." + +"You are not to spend any money on rings. Keep it for the homestead." + +"Oh da--er--I mean high heaven hates a piker. Can't allow you to go +ringless. It's not done, really. I'm going to have my own way. Nothing +elaborate. Just a simple, little ring, costing, say, fifty pounds--" + +"Fifty pounds!" Jean gasped. "Two hundred and fifty dollars! Why, I +couldn't--" + +"Does sound more in dollars. Tell you what I'll do. I have a ring at +home. It belonged to my mother. I'll send for it if you don't mind." + +"I should be proud of your mother's ring," said Jean. + +"I think," said Chetwood, "that she would be proud to have you wear it." + +"Billy," said Jean, "that's just the nicest thing you ever said--or ever +will say." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +MRS. FOLEY ON MARRIAGE + + +Faith and Angus were to be married at Faith's ranch. There was small +preparation, to the scandal of Mrs. Foley. + +"Sure I niver thought to see ye go off this way, wid no style about ye!" +she mourned. "Foour min have I tuk, hopin' th' bether an' gettin' th' +worse, but annyways ivery time they was lashin's to ate an' dhrink, an' +all the folks there we knowed an' plenty we didn't. But here ye're +fixin' for nobody at all." + +"Well, there won't be anybody," Faith replied. "It's to be a very quiet +wedding." + +"Ye may say that," Mrs. Foley agreed. "All th' differ' bechune it an' a +death-bed will be a docther an' a nurse." + +"Oh it's not as bad as that, Mary," Faith laughed. "I really prefer it +that way." + +"Bein' a woman mesilf, I know ye're lyin'," Mrs. Foley returned +uncompromisingly. "'Tis not the nacher iv us to dispinse wid frills in +annything." + +Faith laughed, stifling a sigh. She had had her dreams. But she was +quite content. Mrs. Foley ran on: + +"Sure, thin, iver since ye was a little tot I've been thinkin' that some +day I'd see ye comin' up th' aisle in a big church on yer blessed +father's arrum, all in white wid a big bookay an' veil an' orange +blossoms an' all; an' th' organist tearin' th' bowils out iv th' organ +whiles, an' th' choir rippin' loose; an' a foine fat bishop or th' +loikes, wid a grand voice rowlin' th' solemn words out in his chist. +An' aftherwards atin' an' dhrinkin' an speechifyin', an' showers iv rice +an' shoes an' white ribbon be th' yarrd. Thim's th' things I t'ought f'r +to see. An' instid iv that, ye will stand up in privut in a shack in a +neck iv woods, an' have th' words said over ye by a dom', wryneck, +Gospel George iv a heretic pulpit-poundher, that's dhruv out in a +buckboord dhrawed be a foundhered harrse, to do th' job loike a plumber +comes. Well, God's will be done. An' mebbe yer second weddin' will be +diff'rent. Though they's never th' peachbloom on th' second they is on +th' first, worse luck." + +"Mary! what a thing to say!" Faith cried. "There will never be a second +wedding for me." + +"Ye say so--knowin' nawthin'," Mrs. Foley responded. "All wimmin say so +before they're first married, knowin' nawthin' iv marriage; an' half iv +thim swear it to thimselves before they've been married a year, knowin' +too much. But sure 'tis th' nacher iv us to take chances, or we'd niver +marry at all. An' f'r why should a young widdy woman like yerself go +lonely all yer days?" + +"Heavens, Mary, stop it!" Faith shuddered. "Talking like that before I'm +married at all. I'm not a widow; I won't be a widow." + +"I'm wan foour times," Mrs. Foley observed. "An' I've knowed thim that +wud have give their sowls to be wan just wanst. Ye niver can tell." + +"To judge by Angus' looks I won't be a widow for a long time," Faith +laughed. + +Mrs. Foley shook her head sagely. "Nor ye can't tell about that. Sthrong +th' lad is, but he's voylent, an' voylent min come to quick ends." + +"Violent? Nonsense! He never loses his temper." + +"All min lose their timpers," Mrs. Foley asserted; "an' th' quoiter th' +man th' bigger divil he is whin he starts. Thim kind is th' worst. It's +not f'r nawthin' he carries that harrd face." + +"His face isn't hard," Faith contradicted indignantly. + +Mrs. Foley waved her hand. "I was speakin' in parables, loike. I'm not +meanin' it's bad-lookin' he is, but he's harrd. He's th' kind that niver +forgives wrong or slight, an' it wud shtrain him awful to forgive th' +same. They's a divil lives deep down in him, I'm tellin' ye, that's best +left asleep." + +"Bosh!" said Faith. + +"Ye say that, bein' ign'rant iv min," Mrs. Foley told her gravely. "I +believe he loves ye thrue, an' ut's little th' life iv a man wud be +worth who should speak a light word iv ye, or lay a hand on ye in other +than respect, if he knew it. But take ye heed, my gyurl, niver to rouse +that sleepin' divil an' have him peep at ye through the eyes of yer man. +Niver, as ye value yer station as a wife, give him annything to forgive +in ye as a wife. Forgive it he might, but forget it he niver would." + +Faith, her smooth cheeks aflame, drew herself up haughtily. "You have no +right to speak to me like that." + +"I am takin' th' right," Mrs. Foley replied steadily. "Do I not know ye +for what ye are--a little lady born an' bred, pure-minded an' +high-minded? Ye blush whin an old woman that's seen th' rough iv ut +calls a spade a spade. I wud tear th' eyes out iv man or woman that +spoke ill of ye. But ye are a woman, an' women will be women, and min +min, foriver an' a day." + +"You have never spoken to me so before. Why do you do it now?" + +"Bekase ye are about to take a man," Mrs. Foley replied. "A colleen is +her own woman, wid none but herself to gyard an' care for; but a wife is +her man's woman, an' besides herself she must gyard an' care for her man +an' his love for her. The wise wife will gyard herself closer nor whin +she was a maid, an' she will gyard her man closer nor his mother." + +"Angus may trust me," Faith said proudly, "as I trust him." + +"An' well f'r both iv ye," said Mrs. Foley, "if as ye say now in yer +youth ye do till ye have grandchilder." She wound a great arm around +Faith and drew her to her ample bosom. "There, there, gyurl iv me heart! +Forgive th' rough tongue iv an owld woman wid a long, harrd road behind +her. Th' lad is a rale man, if iver I saw wan. An' as f'r th' divil in +him, I wouldn' give a snap iv me thumb for a man widout wan." + +Whereat Faith, being motherless and in spite of her independence lonely +as well, cried a little and so did Mrs. Foley, and both enjoyed it very +much. + +The wedding took place a few days later. Kathleen French was the only +one of her family present. Turkey would not come, sending Jean an +excuse. Faith had never even seen him. + +There was no wedding trip. But after a few days at the Mackay ranch +Angus began to arrange excursions. So far as he could see, it was now +merely a matter of weeks till the place had another owner, probably +Braden. He had done his best, and he was more or less resigned to the +inevitable. With the resignation a load of worry dropped from his +shoulders. Later he must make a fresh start, but now he would enjoy the +present. + +With Faith he took long rides into the foothills, along faint, old +trails first beaten by the feet of the long-vanished elk, through deep +timber where towering, seal-brown trunks shot fifty feet in the air +without a limb and met in dense, needle-foliage above, and the horses' +feet fell without sound; beside creeks fed by the hoary, old glaciers +which far away glinted gray, and ridged, and fissured, relics of the +ancient ice-cap which once overlay and over-rode the land. To Faith +these trips were a novelty, opening a fresh world new and wonderful. +Incidentally they showed her husband to advantage, in a new light and +her trust in him strengthened. + +[Illustration: _To Faith these trips were a novelty, opening a world new +and wonderful._] + +In such surroundings Angus was at home, adequate, competent. His +knowledge of them amazed Faith, though there was nothing at all +wonderful about it, since he had lived in the open all his life and +consorted with men who had done likewise. His camps were always +comfortable and sheltered. He constructed deep beds in which one sank +luxuriously. Rain or shine he was a wizard with a fire and a frying pan, +building browned and feathery bannocks in a minimum of time, the +doughgods he mixed were marvels, his mulligan a thing to dream of. All +was accomplished without hurry and without fuss. She saw the results +without quite appreciating the method. + +Another thing which impressed her was his apparent ability to make the +horses comprehend his wishes. When he spoke to them he seldom raised his +voice. When trouble developed he was infinitely patient; when punishment +was necessary he inflicted it without temper. Faith saw no signs of the +"divil" of which Mrs. Foley had spoken. If he existed at all he dwelt +deep, in the dungeons of the man's being, securely chained. + +It was natural that she should take pride in her husband's physique. His +body was hard, lean, in the condition of an athlete's in training. Her +fingers pressing his forearm made scarcely an impression. Once, as he +bent to heave out of the way fallen timber which blocked the trail, she +placed her hands upon his back. He turned his head. + +"Lift!" she said, and beneath her hands she felt the long, pliant +muscles spring and tauten and harden. On another occasion a bowlder had +fallen upon the trail, partially embedding itself. It was possible to go +around, but he would not. Finally he worried out the rock and rolled it +down the hillside. + +"Heavy?" she queried. + +"Pretty heavy. The trouble was I couldn't get hold of it." + +"Do you know how strong you are?" she questioned. + +"Why, no," he admitted. "That is, I don't know just what I can lift, if +that is what you mean, nor what I could pack for say a mile if I had to. +There's a good deal of knack in that sort of thing--balance and +distribution of weight, and the development of a certain set of muscles +by keeping at it. There are men who can pack five hundred on a short +portage. I've heard of eight hundred--but I don't know." + +Faith thought she had known Angus before marriage. But in the +companionship of the trail and beside the evening fires beneath the +stars she learned that her knowledge of him had been superficial. She +found that the country rock of his reserve hid unsuspected veins of +tenderness, of poesy and of melancholy. But though he possessed these +softer veins--and she reflected that it should be her task to develop +them--the man himself was essentially hard and grim. His outlook, when +she came to know it, proved primitive, the code which governed him +simple and ancient--the old, old code of loyalty to friends, and in the +matter of reprisals eye for eye and tooth for tooth. + +"But that is not right," she urged when he had set forth this latter +belief. "We are told to return good for evil." + +Angus smiled grimly. "We may be told to do so," he said, "and we are +told to turn the other cheek to the smiter. That is all very well when +the evil or the blow is unintentional, sort of by accident. But when a +man does you harm on purpose, out of meanness, the best way to show him +he has made a mistake is to get back at him hard." + +"Which makes him hate you all the more." + +"Maybe. But it makes him mighty careful what he does." + +"But don't you see," she argued, "that if there were no such thing as +forgiveness--if everybody paid back everybody for injuries in the same +coin--the whole world would be at feud and at war. We should go back to +savagery." + +"And don't you see," he responded, "that if men knew they could get away +with anything without a comeback the world wouldn't be much better. +There are men and nations who are decent, and there are both who are +not. These have to be kept down. If they ruled, it would be terrorism." + +"There would be the law; there must be the law, of course. That would +protect people." + +"The law has too much red tape about it. In the old days things were +better. Then a man packed his own law." + +"The gun? A horrible state of affairs! Barbarism!" + +"Well, it made men careful. Now you take Braden. With the help of the +law he is going to get our ranch for a fraction of its value. I am not +kicking about that. But he blew up my ditch. I don't mean he did it +himself, but he framed it, though I can't prove it. If it wasn't for the +law I would go and twist the truth out of him, and then I would settle +with the men who did it. And then there's your ranch. I know it must be +Braden who wants to buy that. I'd find out about that, too. There's +something wrong. He's trying to put something over." His fist clenched +suddenly. "The rotten crooks!" he growled. "They've got me. But let them +try any dirty work on _you_!" + +Secretly, Faith worried a little about the future, the more because +Angus seemed utterly careless of it. He had utterly refused to allow her +to sell her ranch and apply the proceeds to satisfy Braden's claim. If +he had any definite plans for the future he would not talk of them. With +what money he would have from the sale of stock and various chattels +there would be enough for a start elsewhere. But when and where and how +that start should be made was up to Angus. + +"Shouldn't we be making some definite plans?" she asked. + +"I suppose we should," he admitted. "But I've always planned and +worried, and the best I've made out of it all is to land in this mess. +Now and then I've asked myself what was the use of it." + +"But that's no state of mind for a man," she protested. "That's lie down +and quit. You're not that sort, surely?" + +"I didn't think I was," he said slowly. "I thought I had sand and +staying power. But I'm tired. Lord, you don't know how tired I am--and +sore! Every thought I've had for years has been for the old place. And +now to lose it! It sort of upsets me--temporarily. I'm deliberately not +thinking, nor planning. When the place is sold it will be different. +Till then I'm going to loaf, body and mind, for all I'm worth." + +Though she thoroughly disapproved of this state of mind, Faith said no +more. Time drew on. And one night Angus announced that loafing was done. + +"Now I'll get into the collar for another stretch of years," he said. +"To-morrow we'll start back. I want to be at the sale, to see who will +bid the place in." + +"It will be like turning the knife, won't it?" + +"Yes, but I can take my medicine. Then I'll sell off the stock, turn +everything I can into cash, fix up you and Jean somewhere and go +cruising." + +"Cruising?" + +"Prospecting for new ground somewhere. The farther away the better. I +want a lot of land--cheap. I'm out to make a stake--to found a fortune +for the Mackay family." + +"You'll take me with you." + +"No." + +"Please!" + +"Better not, old girl. I may have to cover a lot of ground before I find +what I'm looking for, and the traveling will be rough. It's better for +me to go alone." + +Faith did not press. She recognized the truth of what he said. But she +realized as they rode down out of the hills what a difference already +his absence would make in her life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +SUDDEN DEATH + + +Though Godfrey French's habits could not be called studious his private +room was known as his "study," which possibly was as good as any other +name. The furnishings of the room were of comfortable solidity. Since +the room served as an office in which he transacted such business as he +had, there was a desk with many pigeon holes, and backed against the +wall stood a small safe. + +Outside it was dark, and the rising wind was beginning to sigh with a +promise of breeding weather. But in the study, lit by a shade lamp, its +owner and Mr. Braden were comfortably seated. Beside them stood a small +table bearing a decanter, a siphon and a box of cigars. + +Mr. Braden helped himself to the whiskey. His drinking was strictly +private, but he indulged rather more frequently than of old, and in +larger doses. Somehow he seemed to require them. As for Godfrey French, +he took his Scotch as he took his tea, as he had been taking it all his +life, and with no more visible effect. + +But as Mr. Braden looked at French he seemed to have aged in the last +few weeks. The features seemed more prominent, the keen face leaner and +more deeply lined, the cold, blue eyes more weary and more cynical. + +"You look a little pulled down," Mr. Braden commented. "Perhaps a change +would do you good." + +"If I could change the last thirty years for the next thirty, it might," +French agreed grimly. + +"None of us get younger," said Mr. Braden. "I myself begin to feel +the--er--burden of the years." + +"You're not old. It's the burden of your fat." + +"Ha-ha!" Mr. Braden laughed without much mirth. "But what seems to be +the matter with you?" + +"The life that is behind me," French replied. "You can't eat your cake +and have it. But what the devil is the use of cake if you don't eat it? +I've eaten my cake and enjoyed it, and I'm quite willing to pay when the +times comes. All flesh is as grass, Braden--even such a quantity as +yours." + +Mr. Braden shifted uneasily. Like many men he found any reference to his +ultimate extinction unpleasant. + +"Oh, yes, yes, of course we must all pay our debt to nature. No hurry +about it, though. We have a number of things to do first." + +"We merely think we have," French returned. "It wouldn't matter in the +least if we both snuffed out to-night." + +"It would matter to me," Mr. Braden declared with evident sincerity. + +"But to nobody else. Who would care a curse if _you_ died?" + +Offhand, Mr. Braden could not answer this blunt question. French grinned +at the expression of his face. "You don't like to face the inevitable, +Braden. Well, since it is the inevitable it doesn't matter whether you +like it or not." He tossed three fingers of straight liquor down his +throat. A shade of color came into his lean cheeks and his eyes +brightened. "Have you heard anything fresh lately?" + +Mr. Braden shook his head. "Nothing authoritative. I know the Airline +people are running trial lines east of here. I had a reply to my letter +from the head of their real estate department--McKinley, as near as I +could make out the signature--and he says just about half a page of +nothing." + +"He doesn't want to tip their hand." + +"That's what I think, I know they are coming through here, and when they +do it will kill this town, because they won't come within fifteen miles +of it. Well, in a week or so I'll own the Mackay ranch, and be in shape +to make them a definite townsite proposition whenever they do come. +There isn't a better natural townsite anywhere." + +"No hold-up," French warned. "They won't stand for it. Give them a good +slice if they want it." + +"I'll do that because I can't help myself. It's lucky I've been able to +bring on the sale so soon. You were wrong in thinking it would stop the +girl from marrying Mackay, though." + +"I thought she would have more sense than to marry him under the +circumstances." + +"You've heard nothing about the--er--deeds since you gave them to her?" +Mr. Braden asked. + +"Nothing at all." + +"Then I guess it's all right. When I sell out Mackay he'll get out of +the district likely. Just as well. He might find out something if he +stayed around here." + +"He might," French agreed. "He suspects that we split up the biggest +part of the price that Winton was supposed to pay for the land." + +"He can't prove it." + +"And possibly he suspects that you are responsible for his failure to +get a new loan. He may even suspect that you had something to do with +what happened to his water supply. + +"No; but when a man begins to suspect he interprets things which +otherwise would carry no meaning. So far he connects us only through the +original transaction with Winton. If he knew the truth he'd probably +twist your neck like a chicken's." + +Mr. Braden moved that threatened part of his anatomy uneasily. "He +wouldn't dare to attempt physical violence." + +French laughed. "You don't know that young man, Braden, because you're a +different breed. I know him, because I've seen his kind before. I made a +mistake in quarreling with him." + +"I'd like to see him beaten to a pulp," said Mr. Braden viciously, "but +after all, it's the money we want. I'm having a devil of a time to keep +my head above water, and you're broke." + +"Yes, I'm broke," French admitted. "These things are the only chance I +see of getting money. When a man reaches my age and faces poverty to +which he is unaccustomed, he will do almost anything for money. I want +to see the cities and some of the men I knew thirty years ago, before I +die. For money to do that I'd give--give--I would--give--" + +Something seemed to have gone wrong with Godfrey French's enunciation. +It resembled nothing so much as a phonographic record with a +running-down motor. He did not stammer, but the words came slowly and +then blurred, as if his tongue had lost power. His face, on which a look +of blank wonder had come, suddenly contorted, his hand caught at his +breast, he threw his head back, chin up, mouth open, gasping. + +"What's the matter?" Mr. Braden cried, startled at this sudden +transformation. "Are you ill? What--" + +"Get--" Godfrey French muttered indistinctly, "get--" He fell back in +his chair, inert, sagging arms loose, his face gray, unconscious. + +For an instant Mr. Braden stared at his associate horrified. It was as +if he had been seized, struck down and throttled by an invisible hand +which might claim another victim. Recovering, he poured a glass of +liquor with a shaking hand, and shivered as the rim clinked against the +unconscious man's teeth. He ran to the door. + +"Help!" he shouted wildly to the echoing darkness of the hall. "Come, +somebody! Help!" + +His call was answered by Kathleen and young Larry. + +"Your father!" Mr. Braden quavered. But Kathleen, pushing past him, ran +to her father's side. + +"He has a hypodermic somewhere," she said. "Look in his room, Larry, +quick!" Young Larry bounded for the stairs. "He has had these attacks +before, but this is the worst." + +"I'll go for the doctor," Mr. Braden offered. + +"Larry will go. Your horse isn't fast enough. I wish you'd stay here, if +you don't mind. The other boys are out and I'm alone." + +But in a moment Larry returned with a hypodermic syringe in its case and +a vial of tablets. Kathleen dissolved one of the latter, and baring her +father's arm administered the injection with a swiftness and steadiness +which commanded Mr. Braden's admiration. "We'd better get him up to his +room," she said. + +Larry picked up his father's inert body and mounted the stairs. He laid +him on his bed. + +"I'll look after him now," Kathleen said. "You won't mind waiting till +Larry comes back, Mr. Braden? And--_ride_, Larry!" + +Mr. Braden returned to the study. In a few moments he heard the dancing +rataplan of the hoofs of an eager, nervous horse, a curse from Larry, +the hoof-beats clamored past, steadied to a drumming roar, and died in +the distance. Evidently Larry was riding at a pace which probably meant +a foundered horse. + +Mr. Braden helped himself to a drink. Inadvertently he sat down in the +chair which had held Godfrey French, and suddenly realizing that fact +vacated it hastily. Outside the wind had increased to a gale, and with +it was rain. The window was open and the drawn blind slatted to and fro. +Mr. Braden selected another chair and sat down. + +But in a moment he arose, went to the door and listened. Leaving it ajar +he went to the desk and proceeded to pull out drawer after drawer, +rooting among their contents. Not finding what he sought he turned to +the safe. He stared at the impassive face of the dial, shook his head, +half turned away, and then caught the handle and twisted it. To his +amazement the bolts snicked back. Apparently whoever had closed the safe +had neglected to turn the knob of the combination. + +Mr. Braden burrowed in the safe's contents, and with an exclamation of +satisfaction seized a packet of legal-looking documents bound by a +rubber band. He stripped off the band and riffled the papers. Apparently +he found what he sought, for he selected two documents, replacing the +rest. Then, crossing the room to the light he opened the documents and +proceeded to verify them by glancing at their signatures. + +As he stood he fronted the window; and as he raised his eyes from the +perusal the down blind bellied and lifted with a gust of wind. In the +enlarged opening thus made Mr. Braden saw or thought he saw, a face. It +was but the merest glimpse he had of it, white with the reflected light +of the lamp. For an instant it stood out against the darkness, and then +the blind dropped back into place, hiding it. + +Hastily Mr. Braden shoved the papers in his pocket, while a gentle but +clammy perspiration broke out upon his forehead. But had he actually +seen a face, or was it some freak of vision? He went to the window, +raised the blind and peeped out. It was pitch dark and raining hard, but +across from him there was a glint of white, and in a moment he +identified it as merely a painted post of a fence glistening in the +rain. So that was the "face." Mr. Braden's heart resumed its normal +action. He closed the safe, spun the combination, sat down and picking +up a paper began to read. + +It was more than an hour later when Dr. Wilkes arrived. He came alone, +Larry having gone in search of his brothers. Mr. Braden listened to the +sound of low voices, of footsteps coming and going on the floor above. +Finally Wilkes came down. + +"And how is the patient?" Mr. Braden asked. + +"Gone out." + +"Gone out? You don't mean--" + +Dr. Wilkes nodded. Between him and Mr. Braden there was little +cordiality. + +"What was the--er--cause of death?" + +"Valvular cardiac disease of long standing." + +"Poor fellow, poor fellow!" Mr. Braden sorrowed, his hand involuntarily +caressing the papers in his inside pocket. "You never can--or--that is +in the midst of life we are in death. Why, only an hour or so ago he was +planning for a trip abroad." + +"He's on a longer trip," Wilkes said grimly. + +But the pounding of hoofs outside indicated that Larry had found his +brothers. In a moment he entered with Gavin and Gerald. Dr. Wilkes did +not soften his reply to Gerald's quick question. They stared at him, +stupefied. It seemed to Mr. Braden that he should express his sympathy. + +"My dear boys," he said, "I assure you that I feel for you in this dark +hour. Providence in its inscrutable wisdom has seen fit--" + +But Gavin interrupted him. + +"Cut it out!" he growled. "We don't want any stuff like that from +_you_!" + +Shortly afterward Mr. Braden found himself driving homeward. The rain +had turned the road into mud, and was still coming down. It drove though +the lap-robe, wetted his knees and trickled down the back of his neck. +He was thoroughly uncomfortable. Nevertheless he reflected that +Providence in its inscrutable wisdom sometimes arranged things well. +Once more his hands pressed the papers in his pocket. Arriving at his +apartments he placed them in an old-fashioned iron safe which was +operated by a key instead of a combination. There were two keys. One Mr. +Braden carried with others on a ring. The other hung upon a single nail +driven into the wall immediately behind and concealed by the safe +itself. As it was dark there and as the safe was very close to the wall, +it seemed a very secure hiding place. On this occasion Mr. Braden used +the latter key, because he had changed his wet garments and left his +key-ring with them. + +But Mr. Braden's trust in Providence might have lessened--or +increased--had he known that outside, chinning himself against the +window-sill which he had just managed to reach from the rickety steps, +hung Turkey Mackay; and that, further, the said Turkey had been a +witness to the manner in which the papers had come into the possession +of Mr. Braden. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +STRANGERS ASK QUESTIONS + + +When Faith and Angus got back to the ranch Godfrey French's funeral was +over. Faith did not pretend to be specially grieved. + +"But of course I must go and see Kathleen," she said. + +She went alone, for Angus would not go. He held no particular +ill-feeling toward Godfrey French, but as French had held it toward him +he thought it best to stay away. When Faith had gone he pottered about +the house, stables and sheds, taking an inventory, estimating the value +of the things he could sell, deciding where they could be sold to the +best advantage. There were the tools, implements, rigs, cut crops, +horses and stock on the range. He jotted down a rough estimate and +frowned at the result. Still it was the best he could do. + +Chetwood appeared. "Busy?" he queried. + +"I've just been figuring up what I can sell and what I can get for it." + +"You haven't sold anything yet?" + +"No, I'll hold off till the place itself is sold." + +"Somebody might bid it up to a good figure." + +"Nobody is apt to bid. Nobody here with enough loose money. No, +Braden'll get the place, I guess." + +"Old blighter!" Chetwood grunted. "But you never can tell. 'The +best-laid schemes of mice and men' and all that sort of thing. Let's +talk of something else--something I want to talk about." + +"Fire away," said Angus. + +"Jean and I are thinking of getting married," Chetwood told him bluntly. + +"The devil you are!" Angus exclaimed. He was not exactly surprised at +the news, but at the time of its announcement. + +"I like you," Angus admitted, "but I don't know a great deal about you. +You're working for wages which aren't very large. They won't keep two." + +"No more they will," Chetwood replied. "Jean suggests that I take up a +homestead." Angus shook his head. "You don't like the idea? No more do +I. I shan't do it." + +"Have you any idea what you will do? I gathered that you lost what money +you had in some fool investment. You never told me what it was." + +"I don't look on it as totally lost," Chetwood responded. "It may be all +right some day. One thing I'll promise you, old man, I won't marry Jean +till I have something definite to go on." + +"Good boy!" Angus approved. "That's sense. I'm going to look up a bunch +of land in one of the new districts. When I find what I want Jean will +come and live with us, of course. Then we might make some +arrangement--if you want to buck the ranching game." + +When Chetwood had gone, presumably to find Jean, Angus was restless. He +liked Chetwood, but the Lord alone knew when the latter would be in +shape to support a wife unless somebody helped him. He would have to do +that. The fancy took him to walk around the ranch for a last look as +owner. As he walked a hundred recollections crowded upon him. Here there +had been a good crop in one year; there a failure in another. Here was +the place where he had first held the handles of a plow. This was where +a team had run away with a mower. He arrived at the gate and looked +back over the fields. To-day they were his; to-morrow in all likelihood +they would belong to Braden. + +Looking up the road he saw a light rig with two men. One of them was +standing up in it, apparently surveying his surroundings through a pair +of field glasses. Presently he sat down and the team came on. By the +gate the driver pulled up and nodded. + +"Afternoon!" he said. He was a thickset, deeply tanned man of middle +age, with a shrewd, blue eye. He wore a suit which, though old, was of +excellently cut tweed, and his trousers were shoved into nailed +cruisers. His companion was younger, stout, round-faced and more +carefully dressed, but he, too, possessed a shrewd eye. Neither looked +like a rancher, and both were strangers to Angus. Between them rested an +instrument of some sort, hooded, which looked like a level. + +"Nice ranch, this," said the driver, "Yours?" + +"Yes." + +"For sale?" + +"Yes," Angus told him grimly. + +"How much have you got here?" the second stranger asked. Angus told him. +"En bloc?" + +"Yes." + +"What do you hold it at?" + +"I don't hold it at anything. It will be sold to-morrow by public sale +under a mortgage." + +The two men exchanged glances and eyed Angus with curiosity. + +"Who holds the mortgage?" the younger man asked. + +"Isaac J. Braden." + +"Braden, hey! Isn't that the fellow--" He spoke swiftly in an undertone +to his companion, who nodded. "We've heard of him. Local big bug, isn't +he? What's the amount against the property?" He whistled when Angus told +him. "Why didn't you get a loan somewhere and pay him off?" + +"Because I couldn't. Nobody would lend. The loan companies' +appraisers--well, they shied off." + +"Braden fixed them, did he?" the other deduced. "Knocked the loan, hey? +Knocked you as a borrower! Shoved you to the wall. Thinks he'll bid the +place in. Anybody else want it? No--or you'd have made some deal." + +"That's about the size of it," Angus admitted, surprised at the swift +accuracy of these deductions. + +"Will it leave you stranded?" + +"Nearly. Not quite." + +"Folks depending on you?" + +"Yes." + +"Why don't you tell me to mind my own darn business?" + +"I came near it," Angus admitted; "but you look as if you know enough to +do that without being told." + +The stout man chuckled. "I think I do, myself. If I had known of this +place before I'd have made you some sort of an offer for it. As it is, +I'll go to that sale to-morrow. Good day. Drive on, Floyd." + +Angus watched them drive away and turned back to the house. It seemed +that Braden might have opposition, and apart from financial reasons he +was glad of it. The strangers did not look like ranchers. Speculators, +likely. Anyway, it had not taken the stout fellow long to size Braden +up. But if he could have overheard the conversation between the two +strangers as they drove away he would have been more surprised at the +accuracy of their mental workings. + +"Things like that," the man called Floyd observed jerking his head +backward, "always get my goat. I'll bet that young fellow's got the raw +end of some dirty deal. He's taking a bitter dose of medicine. You can +see it in his face." + +"And I can make a pretty fair guess what it is," the other responded. +"This fellow Braden has been trying to get information about our +construction plans. He hinted that he had some sort of a townsite +proposition to make to us, and if that place back there is it I give him +credit for a good eye. He doesn't seem to have been very particular +about how he went to work to get hold of it himself." + +"What are you going to do about it, Mac?" + +"What I should do," the other replied, frowning thoughtfully, "is to +make a dicker with Braden to take over the land at a reasonable profit, +after he had bid it in for the amount of his dinky mortgage. That's my +plain duty to my employers, the Northern Airline, Mountain Section, for +which they pay me a salary, large it is true, but small in comparison +with my talents." + +Floyd grinned. "Yes, I know you _should_ do that. But what _are_ you +going to do?" + +"Well," the man called Mac admitted, "I do hate to see a shark get away +with anything but the hook. Besides, it looks to me as if Braden, if he +got hold of the property would try to double-cross us. I'll bet he'd +hold us up for some fancy price. So it's my duty to see he doesn't get a +chance. The property is just about what we want. There's room for a +good, little town. With that creek, a natural gravity water system could +be put in. No trouble about drainage. You can get power, too. A +subsidiary company formed to handle that end would pay well in a few +years when the place got going. Ah, it's a bird of a proposition--too +good to take any chances on." + +"That's your end," Floyd nodded. "We go ahead and find the grades and +put 'em in, and you fat office guys come along and clean up. Well, +Healey's notes are all right so far. Easy construction through here. +I'll send young Davis in right away and let him run a trial line east, +for Broderick to tie into." + +"Don't be in a hurry," the other responded. "Trouble with you roughneck +engineers, you think all there is to a railroad is building it. You wait +till I pick up what I want. I could fix it with Braden, but he'd get the +profit, and that young fellow back there would go broke, as he said. I +think I'll try to fix it so _he_ gets the profit. I'll just bid the +place in over Braden, and the young fellow will get any surplus over the +mortgage claim. It will be just as cheap for us." + +"And the trouble with you," said the chief of Northern Airline +construction to its chief right-of-way and natural resources man, "is +that you're mushy about men in hard luck. I know some corporations you +wouldn't last with as long as a pint of red-eye in a Swede rock gang." + +"You're such a hard-hearted guy yourself!" sneered Mac, his round face +reddening perceptibly. "No bowels of compassion. Practical man! Dam' +hypocrite! Yah! you make me sick!" + +Mr. Floyd also reddened perceptibly. "Oh, well, I've been in hard luck +myself," he said. + +"So've I," his friend admitted. "I know what the gaff feels like. +Well--stir up those horses. We've got a long way to go." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE AUCTION + + +The sale was to take place at noon in the sheriff's office. After +breakfast Angus went down to the corrals. Faith followed him. + +"I'd like to go with you to the sale." + +"Why?" he asked. + +"I'd just like to be with you." + +He stared at her for a moment. In his life this solicitude, almost +maternal, was a new thing. + +"Why, old girl, I believe you think I can't stand the gaff. But if you +like, we'll take our medicine together." + +Toward noon they entered the sheriff's office. Braden was already there +with his lawyer, Parks, talking with the sheriff. Presently entered the +two strangers with whom Angus had talked the day before. The stout man +smiled and nodded, with a quick appraising glance at Faith. Then came +Judge Riley, and with him, to Angus' surprise, was Chetwood. + +"'Under and by virtue of the power of sale contained in a certain +mortgage bearing date--and made between--'" + +The sheriff's voice droned on. Angus paid scanty attention. Now that he +was there "to stand the gaff" his feelings were almost impersonal. + +"What am I offered for this property?" the sheriff having stated the +conditions of sale was getting down to business. + +"Ten thousand dollars." This from Mr. Braden. The amount was slightly +more than his mortgage claim. + +"Ten thousand dollars I am offered. Ten thousand. Are there any other +offers? If not--" The sheriff paused, sweeping the room with his eye. +Braden, looking at Angus, permitted himself a grin. "If not, then--" + +"Twelve thousand." It was the stout man, Mac. Having uttered the two +words he resumed a conversation with his friend. + +"Twelve thousand?" the sheriff repeated. "Was that right sir? You bid +twelve thousand, Mr.--er--" + +"McGinity," the stout man supplied. + +"Twelve thousand I am offered. Any other offers?" + +"Thirteen," said Mr. Braden. + +"Fourteen," said McGinity on the heels of Braden's voice. + +Faith whispered, "Who is he?" + +"I don't know. He was out at the ranch yesterday. I think he'll run +Braden up." + +Braden whispered to his lawyer, who shook his head. + +"Fifteen thousand." + +"Sixteen." + +Mr. Braden frowned, hesitated and went over to Mr. McGinity. + +"We seem to be opposing each other," he observed. + +"Does seem like it." + +"Perhaps we could reach an understanding--privately. As it stands, we +are running the price up." + +"I can stand it so far," said Mr. McGinity. + +"But we are cutting into each other. If you have reached your top figure +I will give you five hundred on it." + +"I haven't any top figure--except the value of the property to me." + +"You have bid all the property is worth." + +Mr. McGinity grinned. "Then naturally you won't bid any more," said he. + +"I have--er--sentimental reasons for desiring this property. You won't +enter into any arrangement?" + +"Not just now." + +"Very well," said Mr. Braden. "Sixteen thousand, five hundred, Mr. +Sheriff." + +"Seventeen," said Mr. McGinity, idly creasing his hat. + +Again Mr. Braden conferred with Parks. He raised the bid five hundred, +and again the stranger tilted it. The latter did so nonchalantly. +Between bids he conversed with his friend. But when Mr. Braden had bid +nineteen thousand, five hundred, he shot it to twenty-one thousand. + +Though the perspiration stood upon Mr. Braden's brow, his pedal +extremities began to suffer from cold. He had not expected any +opposition. The conditions of sale were stringent, as he had intended +them to be, with a view of choking off others; but just then, though few +knew it, certain unfortunate speculations had strained his credit very +badly. Twenty-one thousand was a large sum, more than he could count on +with certainty unless he had time to raise more on the security of the +property itself, even though part of it was his mortgage claim. But he +wanted the property very badly--needed it, in fact. Who the deuce was +this McGinity? + +And then, suddenly, he saw light. "McGinity" was the translation of +certain hieroglyphics appended to letters he had received from the +Northern Airline. He had translated them into "McKinley," but with +considerable doubt. So his competitor for possession of the Mackay ranch +was the Airline itself! + +So that was what he was up against! Mackay, somehow, must have gotten +wind of his intentions, and himself entered into negotiations with the +railway; and these must have reached a definite point. + +It was a difficult situation for Mr. Braden. He saw his dream of carving +up a choice townsite--of seeing it grow in value by leaps and bounds--go +glimmering. He hated to drop out. But what was the use of going on? +McGinity would bid up to whatever he thought the proposition worth, and +not a dollar more. More than that, if he, Braden, overtopped that +figure, they would let him keep the land, and they would make a townsite +elsewhere. Mr. Braden was under no delusions. He had known landowners +who had held the mistaken belief that a strong corporation could be +forced to adopt a certain location for a townsite merely because it was +the best. The said landowners still owned the land, but it was not a +town. + +"Twenty-one thousand!" the sheriff repeated. "Any advance? A very +valuable property, gentlemen." He looked at Mr. Braden. That gentleman +sadly shook his head. No, he was out of it. "Then," said the sheriff, +"if there is no higher bid, I--" + +"Twenty-two thousand!" + +It was Chetwood, and the effect was explosive. Mr. Braden stared, +open-mouthed. McGinity and Floyd turned and eyed him. Faith gasped, +clutching Angus' arm. + +"Why--why," she whispered, "how can he--you told me he had lost all his +money!" + +"So he told me. He must be running some sort of a blazer. Only, of +course, it won't go. It's foolish of him to try." + +The sheriff seemed to share Angus' view. Mr. Braden whispered to him. He +frowned. + +"You know the conditions of sale, young man?" + +"I heard you state them." + +"You are able to meet them?" + +"May I point out," said Chetwood, "that you have not asked that question +of any previous bidder. Why favor me?" + +"Well--er--you see--" the sheriff was slightly embarrassed--"I +understand that you are working for Mr. Mackay." + +"Quite so. And what of it?" + +"A man who can pay twenty-two thousand for a ranch doesn't often work on +it as a hired man," the sheriff pointed out. + +"It is absolutely none of your business, official or private, for whom, +or for what, or at what I work," Chetwood retorted. "I make that bid, +and I demand that you receive it." + +Faith laughed softly. Angus stared at his hired man. + +"I may tell you, Mr. Sheriff," the court voice of Judge Riley filled the +room, "that this gentleman is quite able to meet the conditions of sale +in any offer he may make." + +"Twenty-three thousand," said Mr. McGinity experimentally. + +"Twenty-four," Chetwood returned. + +Mr. McGinity turned to his friend. "Now what the devil is up? I've +raised Braden out. Who's this young fellow? And what's this about his +working for Mackay?" + +"I'm an engineer and an honest man," Floyd returned. "This is your end, +Mac. But if I were doing it, I'd get together with those boys, now that +the old cuss is out of it." + +"I always said you had too much brains for an engineer," Mr. McGinity +retorted. He crossed the room to Angus and bowed to Faith. + +"Suppose you tell me what the idea is?" he said. "Is this young fellow +bidding for you?" + +"You know as much about it as I do," Angus confessed, and beckoned to +Chetwood. "What are you up to, anyway?" he demanded of the latter. "I +thought you were broke. You told me so." + +"I told you my income had stopped--temporarily," Chetwood replied. "So +it had. If you had ever said a word about money troubles I would have +fixed them like a shot, but you never even mentioned 'em. So now I'm +going to buy the ranch in." + +"How high will you go?" Mr. McGinity asked. "Hold on, now--wait a +minute. I represent the Northern Airline, which is going to build +through here, and this property is valuable to us. I'm prepared to go +fairly high myself to get it. That means that we are prepared to pay the +owner a good price. Now, instead of crazy bidding, can't we come to an +arrangement?" + +"Have you any connection with Braden?" Chetwood asked. + +"Hell, no!" Mr. McGinity replied. "Didn't you just see me raise him out? +And I can raise _you_ out, young man, if you won't act sensibly, unless +you have a mighty big roll back of you." + +"Oh, no, you can't," Chetwood replied cheerfully. He drew McGinity to +one side. "Because, you see," he explained, "I'm really bidding the +property in for Mackay, though he doesn't know it. So, you see, I never +have to put up real money at all, except enough to satisfy old Braden's +claim, and technically satisfy the conditions of sale. I buy the +property, hand stage money to Mackay, he hands it back to me--and there +you are! The only real money is what Braden gets." + +"And suppose Mackay doesn't come through," Mr. McGinity speculated +wisely. "Suppose I forced you up--away up--and Mackay found that as a +result his ranch had brought a top-notch price which he was entitled to +most of; and suppose he stood pat and insisted on receiving it. Where +would you get off at then?" + +Chetwood laughed. "Braden might do that. Mackay isn't that kind. We're +friends, and I'm going to marry his sister. Raise away, if you feel like +it." + +Mr. McGinity's eyes twinkled. "Not on your life," he said. "The +combination is too many for me." The sheriff impatiently claimed +recognition. "I'm through, Mr. Sheriff. The last bid is good as far as +I'm concerned." + +The sheriff looked at Mr. Braden, who shook his head. And thus the +Mackay ranch came into the nominal possession of Chetwood. + +Angus, throttling his pride, held out his hand. + +"You've got a good ranch," he said. "I'm glad it's you. If you marry +Jean it will be staying in the family, anyway. I'll be moving out as +soon--" + +"You'll be doing nothing of the kind," Chetwood told him. "Do you think +I'm such a dashed cad as that? I'm buying the ranch for you, of course. +You can pay me what I'll pay Braden, when you like, and if you never +feel like it nobody will worry." + +Angus stared at him dazedly. For the first time in years his eyes were +misty; but his innate pride still held. + +"It's good of you," he said. "Oh, it's _damned_ good of you, but--I +can't stand for it." + +"Afraid you'll jolly well have to, my boy," Chetwood grinned cheerfully. +"You can't help yourself, you know." + +"But I can't allow--" + +"Don't I tell you, you'll have to. Don't be such a bally ass, or strike +me pink if I don't punch your beastly head here and now! Can't you take +a little help from a friend who would take it from you? Mrs. Angus, for +heaven's sake make this lunatic listen to reason!" + +Faith laughed happily. "He wouldn't let _me_ help him," she said. "Give +him time, Mr. Chetwood." + +As Chetwood waited to comply with the necessary formalities Mr. McGinity +touched him on the arm. + +"I want to make a proposition to whoever owns that land--you or Mackay," +he said. "I'd rather make it to you, because I can see you know more +about business than he does. The Airline isn't any philanthropic +institution, of course, but we'll play fair with you and Mackay." + +"Thanks very much," said Chetwood, a twinkle in his eye. + +"Oh, I mean it," Mr. McGinity assured him. "You seem a pretty bright +young fellow. If you haven't got too much money to take a good job, I +can place you in my department." + +"But you see," Chetwood returned, "I've already got a job with your +company." + +"What?" cried Mr. McGinity. "What kind of a con game is this? What +department are you in?" + +"I'm a director. Did you ever hear of Sir Eustace Chetwood?" + +Mr. McGinity gasped. "Are you trying to kid me? Sir Eustace Chetwood was +one of our English directors, but he's dead. And he was about eighty +years old." + +"Quite right," Chetwood nodded. "He died a few months ago, and by virtue +of the shares in your corporation which he left to me, I was elected to +fill his place. I'm his nephew, you see. As to the title, it's +hereditary, and I can't help it." + +"Sir Eustace Chetwood!" gasped Mr. McGinity. "Good Lord!" + +"Well, I'm not using either title at present," Chetwood grinned. "Just +keep it dark, like a good fellow. I don't want to be plagued by a lot of +blighters who can't see me at all as a thirty-dollar ranch hand. My real +friends are just beginning to call me 'Bill'--and I like it. I say, Mr. +McGinity, if you should ever call me 'Bill,' I'd call you 'Mac'." + +"Is that so, Bill?" said Mr. McGinity, who was a gentlemen of easy +adjustments. + +"It are so, Mac!" Chetwood laughed. "See you later about that +proposition. Remember, you are to play fair." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +CHETWOOD UNMASKED + + +As Angus drove homeward he was at first unable to adjust himself to +actuality. He had given up all hope of retaining the ranch. The wrench +of loss had been over. But now the ranch was his again, subject to the +debt already existing, to keep if he chose. + +But he realized that it would be folly to retain it as a ranch, to +refuse a proposition which McGinity had just made amounting to a +fifty-fifty partnership with the Airline in the project of a townsite. +Again, no matter what his individual preference, he must think of +others. In reality, his own individual interest in the ranch amounted to +but one-third. Sooner or later there must be a division--an adjustment +of shares between Jean, Turkey and himself. In justice to them he could +not refuse an offer which promised more than he could ever hope to make +or receive for the ranch as a ranch. + +And so the ranch, as a ranch, was done. Its broad fields and pastures +and broad stretches of timbered levels would be broken up, surveyed into +building lots, pegged out with stakes, gridironed with embryonic +streets. For a while it would lie raw, unsightly, ruined as a ranch, +unmade as a town. And then people would come in. Shacks would spring up, +stores with false fronts, all sorts of makeshifts which accompany +construction days. Later would come permanence, better buildings, +churches, schools, gardens, sidewalks. Where the Ranch had been would +stand the Town. It was Progress, the history of the West since the first +steel road adventured among the ancient buffalo trails. The old order +was changing, but he, though young, was more of the old order than the +new, because he had been bred in the former. + +Faith touched his arm lightly. + +"Tell me I'm awake. It seems like a dream." + +He put his arm around her and she snuggled in the crook of it, leaning +comfortably against his shoulder. He pulled the team to a walk. + +"Now say it yourself." + +"Say what? How _did_ you know I wanted to say something? But it's +nothing particular. It's just--everything!" + +"It's sure a surprise to me. Why, only yesterday I hinted to Chetwood +that it was doubtful if he could support a wife--and to-day he bids in +my whole ranch." He laughed, but with little mirth, for the sense of +obligation lay heavy on him. + +"I wonder if Jean knew?" + +"I don't think so. Why, she wanted him to homestead--said he'd have to +make good before she'd marry him." + +"Jean is so practical!" sighed his wife. "Now I'd never have said +anything like that to _you_. I'm glad that Braden didn't get the ranch. +Odious beast!" Angus chuckled. "Well, he _is_!" + +"Easily! I never happened to think of that particular descriptive +phrase, though." + +"I don't want to hear _your_ descriptive phrases. He's a horrible man. I +shudder when he looks at me. He--he seems to be thinking evil things +about me--plotting--Oh, I don't know. Did you see his face when he saw +that he would be overbidden? It turned white, and then _green_. Oh, you +may laugh! I _saw_ it." + +"It was a jolt for him. He had it working like an oiled lock up to then. +Some day I will play even with him." + +"He didn't accomplish his end. He's beneath your notice." + +"No man who tried to hand me what he did is beneath my notice," he said +grimly. "Yes, I'll settle with him some day." + +"I thought I might see your brother at the sale." + +"No, he wouldn't go near it. I'll be glad when I can hand him over his +share to do what he likes with." + +"It's odd that I've never seen him. Why don't you make it up with him, +Angus?" + +Angus' mouth tightened grimly. "Make it up! Now, I'll tell you +something, Faith, which you must never repeat, even to Jean: I believe +he is in cahoots with Braden." + +"Oh, surely not!" she cried, and when he told her the grounds of his +belief she was unconvinced. "There's some mistake, Angus." + +"It's not on my part. I'm through with him--except to give him his +share. He shall have that, to the last cent. He shall not say I did not +play fair with him." + +"You would play fair with every one," she told him. "I know that." + +His arm tightened for an instant by way of acknowledgment. But he found +her words only just. To the best of his ability he had tried to play +fair all his life. On that score he could not reproach himself at all. + +They drove up to the ranch, and at the sound of wheels Jean ran out. She +had been waiting, regretting that she had not accompanied them, anxious +to know the worst and have it over. + +"Well, dear!" said Faith tantalizingly. + +"You know what. Who bought the ranch? Was it Braden?" + +"No," Faith replied, "it was a young man named Chetwood." + +"Wha-a-t!" cried Jean in tones which left no doubt of her utter +amazement. "Oh, stop joking! This is serious." + +"He bought it," Angus assured her. + +"But--but he _couldn't_!" Jean exclaimed incredulously. "Angus, you know +he couldn't. Why he's _broke_! He's working for you for _wages_." + +"Just what the old sheriff said," Angus laughed. "But it's straight, +Jean. He bid the ranch in for twenty-four thousand." + +"But where did he get the money?" + +"I don't know. But he had it." + +"Then," Jean flashed, "I'll never speak to him again--never! To buy the +ranch, your ranch, our ranch--at a sale! Oh, the miserable, +contemptible--" + +"Hi, hold on!" Angus interrupted. "You don't understand. He didn't buy +it for himself; he bought it in for us--to save it. He's a white man, +all right, Jean." + +"I don't care what he bought the ranch for!" Jean cried. "And he's _not_ +a white man. He's a sneak. He deceived me. He said his remittance had +stopped. He let me make a fool of myself advising him to homestead and +get a place of his own, and work hard, so that--so that--" + +"So that you could be married!" Angus chuckled. + +"Ye--yes," Jean confessed, and her brother roared. "Oh, you think it +funny, do you? Well, _he_ won't. I never want to see him. I _won't_ see +him." + +"But, Jean dear, listen," Faith put in, for she saw that to Jean there +was nothing humorous in the situation. The girl was deeply offended, +bitterly angry. + +"I don't want to listen," Jean snapped. "I don't want to be rude, Faith, +but he--he _lied_ to me. He led me to believe that he was poor, that he +hadn't a dollar. He was playing with me, amusing himself, laughing at me +when I was--oh, I can't talk about it!" + +"Oh, shucks, old girl!" said Angus. "You're going into the air about +nothing. You ought to be glad he isn't broke." + +"Ought I?" Jean retorted. "Well, I'm not. He wasn't straight with me, he +wasn't fair. He talked about a little cottage, and wanted me to marry +him right away, and--and--" + +"And share his poverty," Angus grinned. "Weren't you game, sis?" + +"Angus!" Faith warned. But Jean's cheeks flamed. + +"No, I wasn't," she replied bitterly. "I told him he would have to make +good first, if you want to know, not because I didn't love him, poor as +I thought he was, but because I thought it would make him work in +earnest. Can you understand that, Angus Mackay? Do you think, after +telling him that, I'd marry him now that he has money? I'd rather _die_! +And--and I half believe I want to." + +With which tragic ultimatum Miss Jean turned and fled. Angus gaped after +her and at his wife. + +"Well, of all darn fool girls--" he exclaimed. + +"You don't understand. You made it worse." + +"Why, what did I--" + +"Never mind now. I'll talk to her after a while, but in her place I'd +feel much the same. I only hope she will get over it." + +"Of course she will. Rot! She fooled herself about Chetwood, same as I +did. Go and make her behave sensibly." + +"You don't know a blessed thing about girls," his wife told him. + +"Well, I'll bet if you let the two of them get together they'll make it +up. She'll go for him red-headed for five minutes, then it'll be over." + +But Faith vetoed this simple plan. She saw that Jean's pride had been +deeply hurt. When Chetwood appeared, later, he met the surprise of his +young life. He did not see Jean. Faith took the matter into her own +hands. + +"But--but, hang it," he exclaimed when the situation was made clear to +him, "it's all a beastly, rotten misunderstanding. I mean to say it's +all wrong. Jean--why, bless the girl, I never dreamed of offending her." + +"But you've done it. Do you mind answering one or two questions?" + +"I'll tell you anything," Chetwood replied with fervor. + +"Well--they may be impertinent. Have you much money? And is it yours, +or--remittances?" + +"'Much money' is rather a relative term. But I have enough to live on, +and it is mine." + +"Then what on earth made you work as a ranch hand?" + +"Jean did. She had a strong prejudice against remittance men, and she +classed me as one of them. I was an idler, and she rather despised me. +Of course she didn't tell me so, but I could see how the land lay. So I +made up my mind to remove that objection, anyway. The best place to do +it seemed to be where she could see me working, and I really wanted to +know something about ranching. Struck me as a good joke, being paid for +what I was perfectly willing to pay for myself. Then I thought I might +as well live up to the part and really throw myself on my own resources, +which I did. I've been living on my wages. But of course I had to have +some adequate explanation. I couldn't tell Angus I wanted to live on the +ranch to make love to his sister. Now, could I? So I merely let it be +understood that my remittances had stopped. May not have been exactly +cricket, but I can't see that I'm very much to blame. If I could see +Jean--" + +"Not now. She refused to marry you till you were in a position to +support a wife. That's the bitter part of it." + +"But I _am_ able to support one." + +"Yes, but don't you see having refused to marry you until you had made a +little money she won't put herself in the position of doing so now for +fear you or somebody might think the money had something to do with it." + +Chetwood took his bewildered head in his hands. + +"O, my sainted Aunt Jemima!" he murmured. "In the picturesque language +of the country this sure beats--er--I mean it's a bit too thick for me. +She didn't approve of me because I was an idler and presumably a +remittance man. Very well. I cut off my income and became a hired man. +Then she wouldn't marry me because I was. Now she won't see me or speak +to me because I'm not. Kind lady, having been a girl yourself, will you +please tell me what I am to do about it?" + +Faith laughed at his woebegone countenance. "The whole trouble is that +you weren't frank with her. What was play to you--a good joke--was the +most serious thing in life to her. While she was considering and +planning in earnest for the future you were laughing at her. Perhaps a +man can't appreciate it; but a woman finds such things hard to forgive." + +"I'll apologize," Chetwood said. "I'll eat crow. Mrs. Angus, like an +angel, do help me with the future Lady Chet--er--I mean--" + +"What!" Faith cried. + +"Oh, Lord!" Chetwood ejaculated, "there go the beans. Nothing, nothing! +I don't know what I'm saying, really!" + +"Don't you dare to deceive me!" Faith admonished sternly. "Lady +Chetwood! What do you mean?" + +"But it's not my fault," the luckless young man protested. "I can't help +it. It's hereditary. When the old boy died--" + +"What old boy?" + +"My uncle, Sir Eustace. I was named after him. And I couldn't help +_that_." + +"Do you mean to tell me," Faith accused him severely, "that on top of +all your deceptions you have a title? Oh, Jean will never forgive this!" + +"But it's not much of a title," its owner palliated. "It's just a little +old one. Nothing gaudy about it, like these new brewers'. It's +considered quite respectable, really, at home, and nobody objects. +It--it runs in the family, like red hair or--er--insanity." + +"Insanity!" Faith gasped. "Good heavens, is there _that_? Oh, poor Jean! +That explains--" + +"No, no!" Chetwood protested desperately. "I didn't mean that. Quite the +contrary. Not a trace. Why, dash it all, there isn't even genius!" + +Whereat, with a wild shriek, Faith collapsed weakly in her chair and +laughed until she wept. "Oh, oh, oh!" she gasped feebly, wiping her +eyes, "this is lovely--I mean it's awful. Mr. Chetwood--I mean Sir +Eustace--" + +"'Bill!'" the object of her mirth amended. "Poor Bill. Poor old Bill! +Dear, kind, pretty lady, have a heart!" + +"A heart! If it gets any more shocks like this--But what am I to tell +Jean? Here's a poor country girl and a noble knight--" + +"Don't rub it in. You see Sir Eustace was alive when I came over here. +When I heard of his death I said nothing to anybody, because there are a +lot of silly asses who seem to think a title makes some difference in a +man. And then I was afraid some beastly newspaper would print some rot +about my working as a ranch hand." + +"Well, I don't know what's to be done about it," Faith admitted; "but I +do know that now isn't the time for you to see Jean. Really, I think the +best thing you can do is to go away for a week or two." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +ANOTHER SURPRISE + + +Outwardly, life on the Mackay ranch settled back to its old groove. Work +went on as usual. Angus entered into an agreement with McGinity which +relieved him from present money worries. But the actual railway +construction would take time, and meanwhile, next season, he could take +off another crop. + +Already the summer was done, the days shortening, the evenings growing +cool. Birds were full-grown and strong of wing. Fogs hung in the +mornings, to be dispelled by the sun slanting a little to southward. The +days were clear, warm, windless. In the lake, trees and mountain ranges +were reflected with the accuracy of a mirror. On these shadows, as +perfect upside down as right side up, Faith expended photographic film +prodigally. + +Chetwood had returned to the ranch, but Jean had refused to restore the +status quo. She treated him with formal politeness, avoiding him +skilfully, taking care that he should not see her alone. Mrs. Foley, now +in complete charge of the ranch kitchen, commented thereon. + +"What's th' racket bechune yez?" she asked bluntly. "Ye act like ye was +feared to be wid th' lad alone. An' a while ago I felt it me duty as a +fellow-woman to cough, or dhrop a broom--" + +"Nonsense!" Jean interrupted tartly. + +"Well, a dacint lad he is--f'r a sassenach--fair-spoken, wid a smile, +an' a pleasant word f'r th' likes iv me, an' always a josh on th' tip iv +his tongue." + +Jean sniffed. + +"Havin' buried four min, I know their ways," Mrs. Foley continued. "Whin +a man's eyes rest on a woman wishful, like a hungry dog's on a green +bone, that's thrue love." + +"I'm not a bone!" Jean snapped. + +"I am not makin' no cracks at th' build iv yez," Mrs. Foley assured her. +"A foine, well-growed shlip iv a gyurl ye are; an' a swate arrumful--" + +"Mrs. Foley!" Jean cried, cheeks afire. + +"Well, glory be, an' what else is a gyurl's waist an' a man's arrum +for?" Mrs. Foley demanded practically. "Sure, I am no quince-mouthed +owld maid, talkin' wide iv phwat ivery woman--maid, wife, an' +widdy--knows. I misdoubt, f'r all yer high head, ye're in love wid th' +lad. Then why don't ye let love take its coorse?" + +"I'm not in love with him," Jean declared. "I don't want to see him. I +wish he'd go away." + +"An' if he did ye'd be afther cryin' thim purty brown eyes out." + +"I would _not_!" Jean asseverated. "He's nothing to me--less than +nothing." + +"Well, well, God knows our hearts," Mrs. Foley commented piously. "Foour +min I've buried, an' I know their ways." + +"You might have another husband if you liked," Jean told her by way of +counter-attack. + +"Ye mane th' big Swede," Mrs. Foley responded calmly, "Maybe I could. +But I've had no luck keepin' min, an' he might not last either, though +him bein' phwat he is it might not matther. Still an' all, buryin' +husbands is onsettlin' to a woman." + +"But Gus is so healthy!" Jean giggled. + +"So was me poor b'ys that's gone," Mrs. Foley sighed. "They was that +healthy it hurt 'em. Health makes f'r divilmint, an' divilmint shortens +a man's days. I'm tellin' ye, ut's th' scrawny little divils that ain't +healthy enough to enj'y life that nawthin' shakes loose from ut. But +rip-roarin', full-blooded b'ys, like thim I had, they leaves a woman +lorn." + +"Were your husbands _all_ Irish?" Jean asked. + +"They wor," Mrs. Foley replied, "if Galway, Wicklow, Clare an' Down +breed Irishmin, God rest thim!" + +"Well, Gus is a good worker. He's been with us for years." + +"But ye could fire him when ye liked," Mrs. Foley pointed out. "A +husband an' a hired man is cats of diff'rent stripes. But they tell me +this lad of yours has money. Then why is he workin' as a hired man +onless f'r love of ye, tell me that?" + +"I can't help his feelings," Jean returned. + +"No, but ye might soothe thim, instid iv playin' cat-an'-mouse--" + +"I'm not!" Jean cried. "And I wish you wouldn't talk about him any +more." + +The net result was that, feeling herself under Mrs. Foley's skeptical +eye, she treated the unfortunate Chetwood more distantly than ever. +Faith observed, but said nothing, waiting for an opportune moment which +was slow in coming. + +Since her wedding Faith's ranch had been abandoned. She had removed some +of her personal belongings, but the furniture remained. She was aware, +now, of the worthlessness of the place. The reasons which had impelled +Godfrey French to purchase, whatever they were, were not operative with +his children. If Braden had been behind that offer it was improbable +that it would be renewed by him. The place was dead horse. + +Nevertheless, Faith held a fondness for it, principally sentimental. +Occasionally she rode over to see that all was in order. She had an idea +that, if the Mackay ranch was cut up, they might live there, and she had +a wish, of which she had not yet spoken to her husband, to spend a week +or two there alone with him before the winter. And so one day she paid a +visit to her property. + +Though the day was warm the interior struck chill. She threw the doors +open and raised the blinds, letting in the air and sun. Then, taking a +book, she moved a rocker to the front veranda, and basked in the sun. +For a time she admired the mountains sharply defined, gulch, shoulder +and summit, in the clear air, but speedily she became lost in her own +thoughts. + +A sudden, thudding detonation broke her reverie and brought her upright +in her chair. It rumbled into the hills, caught by the rocks, flung +across gorges and back in a maze of echoes, diminishing and dying in the +far ranges. For a startled instant she wondered what it could be, and +then she knew that it was powder--a blast. + +The shot seemed near, not more than a mile distant. It was either on her +land or very near it, in the vicinity of the foot of the round mountain +which projected from the foot of the range. While she puzzled, another +shot came. Yes, undoubtedly that was where it was. But who could be +using powder on her property? + +She made up her mind to find out what was going on. She locked the +doors, and mounting her pony took as straight a line as she could in the +direction of the blasts. + +There were no more shots, but she rode on, and presently came to what +seemed to be a new trail leading upward beside the shoulder of the round +hill aforesaid. Her pony scrambled up the rough going, walled on either +side by brush. Then she emerged upon a bench a few acres in extent, +above which the hill rose steeply. There stood a couple of tents. The +brush had been cut away, and earth and stones stripped from the mountain +side, leaving a new, raw wound. Fragments of gray country rock, split +and driven by the force which had ripped them loose, lay around. By the +face thus exposed half a dozen men were at work. Closer at hand two men +conversed. As she pulled up her pony they saw her. + +For a moment they stared at her. She rode forward. + +"I--I hope I'm not in the way," she began, feeling the words inadequate. +"I was down at the ranch and heard the blasts. I am Miss--I mean I am +Mrs. Mackay." She was not yet accustomed to the latter designation. + +"My name is Garland," said the younger of the two. "This is Mr. Poole." + +Mr. Poole murmured unintelligibly. Then both waited. A hammer man began +to strike. The measured clang punctuated the stillness. + +"I thought I would ride up and see what was going on," Faith explained. + +"We're doing a little development work." + +"Oh," Faith said, and hesitated for an instant. "But--but this is my +land." + +"Your land!" Garland and Poole were plainly surprised. They exchanged +glances. In them was quick suspicion, unspoken question, speculation. + +"Where would your line run?" Garland asked. + +But Faith could not tell him. Godfrey French had indicated in general +terms where her boundaries lay, but she had never followed them. She +could only repeat her conviction. Again the men exchanged glances. + +"I'm afraid you'll have to see Braden about that," Garland told her. +"This is his property--or he thinks it is. We're working for him." + +"But what are you working at? What are you doing?" + +"We're opening up a prospect--what's going to be a mine." + +"A mine! What kind of a mine?" + +"A coal mine," Garland replied, "and a good one, too. I guess this +little mountain is mostly coal. We're just clearing off the face, but +you can see the seam if you like." + +Coal! Faith stared at the wound in the hillside. She could see a dark +belt, the "seam" of which Garland had spoken, partially exposed. There, +overlain by soil and worthless rock, screened by tree and brush, was the +stored fertility of some bygone age, the compression of the growth of a +young world, potential heat, light, power. + +"This isn't much more than outcrop," Garland was saying, "but it's good +coal. Braden will make a clean-up on this when the railway comes +through--that is if it is his." His eyes met Poole's, and again there +was the unspoken query, the speculation. + +"But I'm sure it isn't," said Faith. "That is, I'm almost sure." + +"It would be a good thing to be sure about," Garland told her. + +"I think my husband will be able to tell you," said Faith. + +"No use telling us," Garland replied. "Braden's the man for him to see. +And--well, our instructions are not to allow anybody on the ground." + +"No trespassing," Poole corroborated. + +"But if this is my property--" + +"That's the point--_if_ it is." + +"I think it is. And until I know it isn't I have a right to come here, +and so has my husband." + +Garland shrugged his shoulders. "I'm only telling you our instructions. +I may as well tell you Braden wouldn't want your husband coming here. +They're not friends, I guess. You'd better tell him to keep away." + +"My husband will go where he likes without asking Mr. Braden's +permission." + +"We're working for Braden," said Garland, "and what he says goes. We +don't want any trouble with anybody, but we're going to carry out our +instructions." + +"I'll tell my husband," Faith returned. "Good-bye." + +Garland and Poole watched her out of sight and stared at each other. + +"Now what do you think of that?" the former asked. + +"Darned if I know. She seemed sure. But Braden ought to know what he's +about." + +"He _ought_ to," Garland admitted. "He sold her father whatever land she +has. He owns a whole bunch of it around here." He was silent for a +moment. "I wonder if he's putting something over; I wonder if she _does_ +own this, and Braden has framed something on her?" + +"Her deed would show what she owns." + +"That's so. But if Braden is putting something over and we can get onto +it, we could make him come through. This thing is going to be worth +having a share in." + +"How are we going to get onto it?" + +"I don't know," Garland admitted, "but you never can tell what will turn +up." + +"Suppose young Mackay comes horning in here. He'd come on the prod." + +"This bunch can handle him," Garland said with confidence. "That big +Swede that's using the hammer is a bad actor. I'll give him a pointer +about Mackay." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +A NEW COMPLICATION + + +Faith rode homeward at an unwonted pace. She had always regarded that +mountain, supposed to be worthless, as part of her property. Godfrey +French, she now remembered more clearly, had once indicated it as within +her boundaries. Now that it was valuable, it appeared that Braden +claimed it. It might be true, but it was strange. + +Her husband met her as she clattered up to the corrals. It was his habit +to lift her from the saddle. For a moment he held her above his head as +if she had been a child, kissed her and set her on her feet gently. His +eyes went to the pony's sweating coat. + +"Just finding out that old Doughnuts can travel when he has to?" The +pony owed his name to that far-off episode of their first meeting. + +"I was in a hurry. Did I ride him too hard?" + +"No, did him good." He loosened the cinches, stripped off saddle and +bridle and dismissed Doughnuts with a friendly slap for a luxurious +roll. "What was the hurry, old girl? Has somebody been breaking into Dry +Lodge?" + +"No, no; all right there. But Angus, such a strange thing has happened. +They've found coal in that round mountain!" + +"Coal!" he exclaimed. + +Swiftly, words tumbling over one another so that much had to be +repeated, she related her experiences. As she spoke, mentioning the +names of Garland, of Poole, and finally of Braden, she saw his face +cloud and darken. The frank, genial lights of love and laughter left his +eyes; they became hard, brooding, watchful. + +"Well," she asked, "what do you think? Isn't that my property--_our_ +property?" + +"I supposed so from what you told me, but I never knew where your lines +ran. How did you know your boundaries?" + +"I didn't really know them, I'm afraid. Uncle Godfrey just generally +indicated where they were, from the house. But I know he said that hill +was inside them." + +"Your deeds would show; but Judge Riley has sent them away to be +registered. I don't remember the description in them." + +"But couldn't we find the corner-posts if the land was surveyed?" + +"Perhaps it wasn't surveyed. Surveys are usually up to the purchaser. +Your land is part of a larger block owned by Braden. I think he owns +land on both sides of it. He got it for about fifty cents an acre, and +he got the Tetreau place for next to nothing. The description in the +deed would give a starting point, then so many chains that way and so +many another, and it would work out to the acreage, but no actual survey +may have been made." + +In fact the only means of determining the actual boundaries were the +deeds themselves, which were temporarily inaccessible. + +"I'll go over the ground to-morrow anyway," Angus said, "and look for a +line. And I'll see what these fellows are doing." + +"Oh, I forgot! This Garland told me nobody was to be allowed on the +ground. Those were his instructions." + +"They were, were they. It's easy to give instructions. I believe Garland +and Poole had something to do with my ditch. They're just the sort +Braden could hire to do a thing like that. And now they're in charge of +this coal prospect! There's something queer about it. I wonder if that +was why your uncle was trying to buy you out?" + +"Why," she exclaimed, startled, "surely you don't think he knew of this +coal! Oh, he couldn't!" + +"It looks to me like a reasonable explanation." + +"But if it is my land, how can Mr. Braden say it's his?" + +"I don't know," Angus replied, "but I do know that Braden will do +anything he thinks he can get away with." + +Early the following morning Angus and Rennie rode away. The latter, to +Angus' surprise, was wearing a gun. + +"What do you want that for?" Angus asked. + +"I don't know," Rennie replied, "but I know if I need her she's going to +be there. This claim-jumpin' is as risky as foolin' with another man's +wife. You never can tell." + +"But we're not going to jump them." + +"All right. But maybe they'll take a notion to jump us. I don't aim to +be crowded by no dam' rock-gang like Braden 'd hire for a job he thought +there might be trouble about." + +They found the boundaries of the old Tetreau holding without difficulty, +and with these for a base began to prospect for others. After a long +search they found what appeared to be an old line which had been cut +through brush, but new growth had almost choked it. + +"She was run a long time ago," Rennie decided. "Longer 'n when your +wife's pa bought all this scenery. It looks to me like she might be the +line of the block Braden owns." + +"We can take a sight and see where the line hits the mountain," Angus +suggested. + +They took a rough sight, with stakes set as nearly as possible in the +center of the old line, and they found that the line, produced, would +strike to the northwest of the round mountain. Therefore if this line +was the northwestern boundary of Faith's land, it would include the coal +deposit claimed by Braden. + +"Braden skins his hand mighty close before he puts down a bet," said +Rennie. "If he's openin' up a prospect, he's likely organized to back +her. My tumtum is to wait till you get them deeds back and then have a +survey made, or, anyway, see Riley." + +"We can go and have a look at what they're doing, and hear what they +have to say. I like Braden's nerve, giving orders to keep people off. +What the devil does he think this country is? If there wasn't something +crooked about the thing he wouldn't mind who took a look at it. I'm +going to have a look, anyway." + +They rode toward the mountain, eventually striking into the trail which +Faith had followed on the preceding day. As they approached they could +hear the sounds of work in progress, and suddenly they came upon a man +planting posts. A roll of wire lay on the ground. The man stepped into +the trail. + +"Hold on," he said. "You can't go any further." + +"Is that so?" said Rennie. "The trail looks like it went some farther." + +"Well, _you_ don't," the other retorted. "Them's orders." + +"Whose orders?" Angus asked, crowding forward. + +"The boss'--Braden." + +"Braden be damned!" said Angus. "Get out of the way. Give me the trail, +you, or I'll ride plum' over you!" As he spoke he touched his horse with +the heel, and the guardian of the trail gave ground, cursing, but +followed them as they rode out on the bench and into the presence of a +group of three--Braden, Garland and Poole. + +Angus halted, and without paying the least attention to them, took in +his surroundings. Then he shifted his gaze to the trio, eying them in a +silence which was broken by Mr. Braden. + +"What do you want here?" he demanded, in a voice which he endeavored to +make stern. + +"To see what you're doing on what I think is my wife's property." + +Mr. Braden laughed. + +"Your wife's property! Not much. Her land--if you mean what I sold to +her father--lies east of here. This is mine. I bought it from the +government fifteen years ago." + +Mr. Braden's tone was loud, assertive. But his eyes, after a moment, +shifted away from Angus' steady stare. + +"You're lying!" the latter said. + +"Lying, am I?" Braden snarled. "You'd better be careful what you say, +young man. This is my land, and I have the grant. Your wife has her +deeds, hasn't she? Take a look at them before you come here shooting off +your mouth." + +Obviously, that was the thing to do. + +"Why were you and French trying to buy my wife's property?" Angus +bluffed. + +"I don't know anything about French," Mr. Braden asserted, "but I never +tried to buy your wife's property. It has nothing to do with this. I +gave the deeds of what I sold her father, to French, as his agent. I +don't know whether he tried to buy it from her or not, and I don't +care." + +Angus felt that he was up against a blank wall. The deeds alone would +settle the question conclusively. But possibly Braden held the erroneous +idea that the deeds had been lost or destroyed. He knew that French had +held them unregistered. He might think that Faith could not produce +evidence of ownership. + +"In case you have any doubt about it," Angus said, "I may tell you that +French gave the deeds to my wife before he died." + +But Mr. Braden merely grinned. "Well, read them," he said. "And keep off +my property after this." + +"You seem fairly anxious about that," Angus retorted. "You're trying to +put something over, Braden, and I give you notice to be careful. I've +had my satisfy of your dirty work." + +"And I give you notice to keep off my property," Mr. Braden snarled. +"You get off now, or I'll have my men throw you off!" + +Angus laughed, his temper beginning to stir. + +"Tell 'em to go to it!" he challenged. "You old crook, you've been +trying to get me ever since I was a kid. You thought you'd get my ranch, +and you came mighty near it. I'll play even with you some day, and with +the bunch you hired last summer to blow my ditch. Do you get that, +Garland, and you, Poole?" + +"I don't know what you mean?" Garland returned. + +"I never done nothing to you," Mr. Poole declared nervously. + +Angus eyed them grimly. "It's lucky for both of you I'm not sure," he +said. + +But the dispute had attracted the attention of the workmen. They rested +on their tools, watching, listening curiously. The presence of these +reserves gave Mr. Braden heart. + +"Get out of here!" he shouted, his voice shrill with nervous rage. "Get +off my property, and stay off! Talk about your ranch! Yours? Bah! Bought +in by a remittance man that's chasing your sister! Hi, boys! run these +fellows out!" + +The men started forward, and Angus recognized the leader as the big +Swede who had once been handled so roughly by Gavin French. But Mr. +Braden's taunt, his reference to Chetwood and Jean, had cut deep. +Suddenly his temper, already smouldering hotly, burst into flame. He +left his saddle with a vaulting spring, and as he touched the ground +leaped for Mr. Braden. His hand shot out and fastened upon his shoulder. + +Mr. Braden uttered a cry like the squeal of a rat beneath an owl's +claws. Angus jerked him forward, and drew back his right fist. But +something, perhaps the age or lack of condition of the man, restrained +him. "You old skunk!" he gritted; and releasing the shoulder opened his +right hand and swung it wide, stiff-armed. His palm cracked against Mr. +Braden's cheek and ear with a report like a pistol, knocking him flat. + +But the man who had followed them from the trail sprang upon Angus from +behind, trying for the small of the back with his knees. The shock drove +Angus into Garland. The three became a locked mass. Suddenly it +disintegrated. Garland staggered back, his hands to his face. The +guardian of the trail, torn from his hold, was lifted and hurled upon +the earth. Poole, stooping as Angus freed himself, caught up a rock. +Garland, his face covered with blood, was reaching beneath his coat. + +"Drop that rock!" Rennie roared. "Nick Garland, h'ist your hands!" Gun +in hand he menaced the oncoming rush of men. "Keep back there!" he +rasped. "Drop them mucksticks! You big Swede with that hammer, I got my +eye on you. Hands up, the bunch! Sky 'em. Now--_freeze_!" + +The commotion was suddenly stilled. The little man on the horse +dominated the situation. His gun menaced, controlled. + +Mr. Braden quavered shrill denunciation. + +"I'll have you arrested!" he threatened, his hand to his injured cheek. +"Assault! Trespass! Threatening with deadly weapons! We'll see what the +law has to say about this!" + +"Well, don't overlook this here little statute I got in my hand," Rennie +warned him. "This is one law you can't make work crooked for you." + +Garland cursed, shaking his fist. "If you want gun law you'll get it!" +he threatened. + +"I will, hey!" Rennie retorted. "I been wise some time to that shoulder +gun you pack under your coat, and I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll get +down off'n this cayuse and put up both hands empty and let you get your +hands on your gun butt. And then I'll bust your arm while you're +drawin'! How'd that suit you, you dam' four-flush?" + +But Garland did not see fit to accept the challenge. Rennie eyed him +with contempt. "I guess bushwhackin' 's about your limit," he said; "and +I dunno' 's you pack the nerve for _that_. Come on, Angus, let's go!" + +When they were down the trail and riding side by side Rennie shook his +head. + +"Now maybe you see how handy a gun can come in. But all that didn't do +no good. Your wife either owns the property or she don't, and the way +Braden talked, he seemed to be mighty sure about it. If I was you I'd go +and see Judge Riley." + +Angus did so the next day. + +"If you had come in yesterday instead of going off half-cocked," the +judge told him severely, "I could have shown you the deeds. They came +back some days ago. The only thing to do is to get Barnes or somebody to +make a survey and see what its boundaries are." + +Angus hunted up Barnes, the local surveyor, and drove him out to Faith's +ranch. The place of beginning named in the deed was with reference to +the eastern corner of the large block owned by Braden. Thence Barnes ran +his line west until according to the wording of the deed he reached the +spot which should be the easterly corner of Faith's property. Planting a +post there he continued to work west. Reaching the spot which according +to the description was the southwest corner, he turned off his angle to +work north. Angus peered through the instrument, noting where the +cross-hairs notched upon the landscape. + +"Are you sure this is right?" he asked. + +"Of course I'm sure," Barnes replied somewhat tartly. "If you think I +don't know my business you can get somebody else." + +"Then," said Angus, "this survey won't take in that round mountain at +all?" + +"Not a foot of it," Barnes replied. "The line will run just by its east +base." + +And when the survey was completed it was evident that Faith's deeds gave +her no title whatever to the land claimed by Mr. Braden. The deeds were +conclusive; Barnes' survey accurate. Suspicions amounted to nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +BRADEN MISSES SOME PAPERS + + +The discovery of coal coming on top of sudden activity in railway survey +filled the hills with prospectors, amateur and otherwise. But no further +discoveries were made. Indeed, Mr. Braden's discovery had been made by +accident, according to his own account of it, which was more or less +along historic lines. He proceeded serenely with development. He spoke +largely of potential output, refusing to consider tentative proposals. +Later he might organize a company and offer shares to the public, but +just then he preferred to keep the entire ownership himself. He became a +personage of more local importance than ever, deferred to, his opinions +quoted. In this notoriety he basked as in the sun. Almost daily he +visited his prospect. + +He was driving back to town one evening when he met Gerald French. Mr. +Braden, who for reasons of his own had rather avoided these young men +since their father's death, nodded pleasantly and would have passed on, +but Gerald stopped and held up his hand. + +"I'd like to have a little talk with you," he said. + +"Can you come in to-morrow? I'm rather in a hurry. To-night I have to +preside at a meeting." + +"What I have to say won't take long," young French told him. "I want to +come to a definite understanding with you about this coal property." + +Mr. Braden, for reasons of his own, experienced a decidedly nervous +feeling. "Huh!" he said. "An understanding! What do you mean?" + +"You know damned well what I mean," Gerald replied. "You and my father +were in this thing together. He had an interest--or was to have one. We +expect to have the same interest. Is that clear enough for you?" + +It could not be much clearer, but nevertheless Mr. Braden if not +bewildered gave an excellent imitation of that state of mind. + +"Your father's interest in my coal property!" he exclaimed. "There is +some mistake. Your father had no interest." + +"Oh, yes, he had," Gerald maintained. + +"But I tell you you are mistaken," Mr. Braden protested. "I give you my +absolute assurance that he had no interest whatever." + +"Your assurance--hell!" Gerald sneered. "What do you take me for, +anyway? Do you think I'm not wise to you?" + +"If you have any evidence of your father's interest, produce it," Mr. +Braden returned. + +"So that's the ground you take, is it?" said Gerald. "Well, I guess you +know I haven't any evidence that would hold. But all the same the two of +you were partners in this deal. I know it, whether I can prove it or +not. And what we want is to be let in on this on a fifty-fifty basis +with you." + +"You do, hey?" Mr. Braden replied sharply. "Well, you won't be. Your +father had no interest at all. As it is, he owes me money, which--" + +"Forget it!" Gerald interrupted. "He steered a lot of business your way, +and I'll bet you broke better than even. As for the coal, I saw a sample +of it on his desk months ago. _You_ weren't giving out samples. Then he +was trying to buy the Winton property. Buy it? He couldn't have bought +anything the way he was fixed at the time, and you know it. You were +going to put up for it, and you know that, too." + +"What has that to do with the coal?" + +"It had something to do with it. I'm telling you that we want a slice, +and we're going to have it--somehow." + +"If you think I'm going to give away property to people who have no +right to it, you're much mistaken," Mr. Braden stated emphatically. "If +you can bring any evidence--" + +"I told you I couldn't, because I think you know that already. And you +probably know we are broke. Being broke, we're not going to be +particular about how we get money." + +"Are you threatening me?" Mr. Braden asked somewhat nervously. + +"Call it what you like. You're pretty smooth, Braden, but you're also a +hog; and you're a fool to hold out on us. You'll lose by it. Do you +think I don't know where the money came from for a lot of things--for +blowing Mackay's ditch for instance? Do you suppose I thought Garland +was putting up himself?" + +"Are you trying to blackmail me?" Mr. Braden demanded. + +"No," Gerald replied. "I'm giving you a chance now to come through." + +"You won't get any money from me," Mr. Braden declared. "I financed your +father from time to time for reasons of--er--friendship, but I'm not +going to do the like for you young men. If you want money, earn it like +other people." + +"That's your last word, is it?" + +"Absolutely my last." + +"All right," said Gerald. "Now go ahead, Braden, and be careful you +don't bump into something hard." + +Mr. Braden drove on. At first Gerald's words gave him considerable +uneasiness, but as he thought them over he came to the comfortable +conclusion that they were principally bluff. Gerald had admitted that he +had no evidence of his father's interest. Also they were broke, as Mr. +Braden knew very well. All they had was the ranch, which was mortgaged +to the hilt, and the mortgage was far in arrears. Likely they would get +out of the country, scatter and go to the devil individually. + +He had seen no more of Angus Mackay, though he knew that the latter had +had a survey made. There could be no collusion between Mackay and the +French boys, to embarrass him. The latter were all more or less hostile +to Mackay, and especially Blake. + +So Mr. Braden drove home, had supper, presided at his meeting and sought +his own apartments. There, having lighted his lamp, he opened his little +safe and, taking out a bundle of papers, returned with them to the +light. By rights, the papers which he had abstracted from the safe of +Godfrey French should have been on top of the bundle; but they were not. +He stripped off the rubber band which bound the bundle, and ran through +it rapidly. He could not find what he sought. + +Mr. Braden sat up straight, his eyes widening in an expression which +bore a strong family resemblance to fear. Once more, with fingers which +shook a little, he went through the papers. Nothing! And yet he had a +distinct recollection of snapping that rubber band around them. + +Catching up the lamp he set it beside the safe and went through its +contents. His movements became more hurried, more nervous as his search +progressed. But at the end of it, when he had gone through the contents +of the safe half a dozen times, it was absolutely certain that his +search was in vain. He rose to his feet, but sat down because something +seemed to have happened to the stiffening of his knees. + +"My God!" he said aloud, "they're gone!" + +It appeared to be a shocking discovery. He had found the safe locked, +but somebody must have had access thereto. He felt for the key which +hung behind the safe, and found it. Nobody, to his knowledge, knew of +that hiding place; but somebody must have known of it. Naturally, he +thought of Gerald French. But if French had gone through his safe, he +would have dropped some hint of it during their interview. + +A new thought struck him. Was anything else missing? Engrossed in the +search for those particular papers he had not thought of that. He had no +schedule of the safe's contents, but he had an excellent memory. Once +more he went through the papers on the floor, and at last he +straightened up from his task with a full-sized oath. + +"Nick Garland!" he muttered. "That envelope is gone, too!" + +Now, some years before, Garland had secured money from Mr. Braden on a +promissory note, apparently endorsed by a well-to-do but somewhat +illiterate rancher. When the note matured Garland was unable to meet it, +and Mr. Braden intimated that he would have recourse to the liability of +the endorser. Whereupon Garland, in a panic, had admitted that he +himself had reproduced the rancher's painful scrawl. Mr. Braden secured +his signature to a statement to that effect, and filed it away with the +note. Eventually Garland paid or worked out the face of the note, but +Mr. Braden kept it and the confession as well; Garland for obvious +reasons being unable to insist upon their delivery. Now the envelope +containing that old note and the signed statement had disappeared. The +inference, to Mr. Braden, required no elaborate reasoning. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +TURKEY PLAYS A HAND + + +Mr. Braden's reasoning which fixed the responsibility on Garland, was +perfectly logical; but his conclusion was entirely wrong. The missing +documents were in the possession, not of Garland, but of Turkey Mackay. +Turkey, on the night when he had seen Mr. Braden take certain papers +from French's safe, had gone to that ranch to see young Larry about a +horse. What he had seen, which included the fatal seizure of Godfrey +French, had put his errand entirely out of his head. The papers which +Braden had taken, he reasoned, must be important. The French boys would +sure raise blazes if they knew of it. Hence, he had followed Braden +home, debating the feasibility of holding him up and taking the papers +by force, but had decided against it. Reaching town he had scurried +around to the rear of Mr. Braden's apartments, and when the light went +on had chinned himself up to the window and seen him place papers, which +must be those in question, in the little safe; and he had also observed +where Mr. Braden had secured the key. + +Thereafter he merely awaited a favorable opportunity to investigate the +safe. There must be private papers in it which Braden would be sorry to +lose. A skunk like that would have a lot of stuff he wouldn't want +people to know about. Therefore, Turkey constructed a short ladder +which, under cover of night, he concealed beneath a pile of old lumber +in the rear of Mr. Braden's office. He found his opportunity in the +night of the meeting at which Mr. Braden presided. It was a public +meeting, and Turkey, looking in at the door of the hall, noted Mr. +Braden on the platform. It was exactly what he had been looking for. The +night was cloudy, dark, with a spatter of rain. Turkey made tracks for +his shack, and securing a short bit of steel which bore a strong family +resemblance to a jimmy, and a flashlight, hastened to the rear of Mr. +Braden's building, erected his ladder, forced the window, found the key +without difficulty and opened the safe. + +At first he found the safe's contents disappointing. The old accounts +and letters which he scanned hastily, seemed innocent, and what books +there were contained no record of crime. The first item of interest was +an envelope endorsed with Garland's name. This Turkey opened and read +the contents. Grinning to himself he put them in his pocket. Anyway, he +now had something on Garland. Searching further, he found what seemed to +be a conveyance in duplicate from Braden to Sewell Winton. Turkey +frowned, puzzled. Sewell Winton? That was the name of Angus' wife's +father. Then those deeds should be in her possession. What was Braden +doing with them? + +Suddenly Turkey thought of the night he had seen Braden and French +together in that very room, poring over documents which French had taken +away. French was Angus' wife's uncle, and had bought the property she +had lived on for her father, Turkey had heard. Now French had taken +documents away; and Braden had stolen two documents from French's safe. +Here were two documents which, though he could not identify them, were +connected more or less with both men. Unless he could find others +bearing directly on French, these must be the ones. + +Having reached this conclusion with the simple logic of a savage working +out a trail, Turkey placed the deeds in his pocket and continued his +search; but he found nothing more connected with French, nor were there +any other papers which looked suspicious. And so Turkey reluctantly +closed the safe, replaced the key where he had found it, reflecting that +it might come in handy again, and departed as he had come. + +When he reached his shack he got into his bunk as being a position +favorable to profound thought, but went to sleep before he thought of +anything. In the morning breakfast absorbed his mental faculties until +it was consumed. Then he lit a smoke and read all the papers through. + +Those connected with Garland were obvious enough, self-explanatory, but +he did not know just what to do with them. If he made them public he +would have to account for his possession of them. That would not do. He +would keep them for a while and see what turned up. + +But the deeds were a different matter. They represented ownership, and +so should be in the hands of his sister-in-law whom he had never seen. +Why hadn't Braden or French given her these deeds? Why had Braden swiped +them from French? The girl had been living on the land, so that she knew +it belonged to her. Maybe, now that French was dead, that old skunk +Braden was going to pretend that he never sold her father the place at +all. But from what he, Turkey, knew of the old Tetreau lay-out, it +wasn't worth going to much trouble about. + +Suddenly Turkey whistled softly and swore to himself. He must be a +bonehead! Braden wanted to get hold of that land because it was near his +coal. Sure! That was it. The darn, old crook, trying to hold out on a +girl after he'd made a strike like that on his own land! Why, the +blanked, double-dashed old hog! Angus' wife must have the deeds at once, +or Braden might put something over on her. It wouldn't do to trust the +mail or any one else. He hated to go to the ranch, but he must give them +to her himself. + +Turkey thereupon saddled his blue mare and clattered away. The mare was +in high spirits, the morning cool, and youth and good health surged in +Turkey's veins. As he rode he sang classics of the old frontier which +for excellent reasons have never been embalmed in type. Within a couple +of miles of his destination the road dipped down to a wooden flat, +crossed a creek and mounted a steep grade. Turkey, walking the blue +mare, was half way up when a horse and rider appeared at the top. To his +amazement they bore down on him at a run, and to his greater amazement +the rider was a girl. For anybody to run a horse down that grade was to +tempt Providence. But in a moment he realized that the horse was running +away. + +The girl had given up trying to hold him, and was letting him run. The +animal, a powerful bay, had the bit, and his eyes showed white. His +rider was sitting still, holding the horn with one hand, trying to +adjust her body to the thumping jar of the downhill run. She was staying +with it gamely, and though her face was white her mouth was set. She was +a complete stranger to Turkey. + +The latter was not foolish enough to endeavor to stop a runaway head on, +on a grade. He wheeled his mare in to the bank, giving right-of-way. + +"Stay with it!" he yelled. "I'll get you at the bottom!" And as the big +bay thundered past he regained the road and sent the mare down after +the runaway at a pace which even he considered risky. + +He reached the bottom some fifty yards behind the bay, and for the first +time called on the real speed of the mare. She overhauled rapidly, but +as he drew nearly level and reached for the rein, the bay swerved, +abandoned the road and took to the brush. But the blue mare was +accustomed to hard riding after wild, long-legged steers up and down +brush-covered coulees. She stuck to the bay, through an undergrowth that +slashed and whipped, and once more brought Turkey level. This time he +got a hold, and dragged the bay to a halt. + +"Th--thank you!" the girl murmured, and swayed a little, catching the +horn with both hands. "I--I think I'll get down, for a minute." + +"Sure!" Turkey agreed, but as he saw how she slid from the saddle he +leaped down and caught her. + +"I'll be all right in a minute. I must have been frightened. It's so +silly of me." + +She sat down on the grass, and Turkey tied the bay to a sapling. This +done he regarded the girl furtively, deciding that though not exactly +pretty, she was mighty easy to look at. Blue eyes, fair hair, nice skin, +tall and well-built. He hoped she wouldn't faint. That would be--well, +it would be embarrassing. He wouldn't know what the--that is he would be +helpless. + +"I'm not going to faint," she said as if in answer to his thought. "I'm +just shaken up." + +Turkey nodded. A run down hill jolts even a hardened puncher at times. +Girls were complicated machines--soft, too. Shaking up wasn't good for +'em. But in a moment the color began to come back to her cheeks. + +"There," she said, "I feel better. I want to thank you really, now." + +"That's all right," said Turkey. "I couldn't stop him on the grade; he'd +have gone over, likely. What started him?" + +"A piece of newspaper blew off the sides of the road under his feet. I +couldn't hold him at all." + +Turkey feebly expressed his opinion of people who dropped paper beside a +road, the feebleness being due to the sex of his unknown companion. + +The girl regarded him closely. + +"You remind me of somebody," she said, "but I don't think I've ever seen +you before." + +"My name is Mackay," Turkey vouchsafed, and waited for a similar +confidence which did not come. + +"Mackay!" the girl exclaimed. Her eyes were veiled for a moment. When +she again looked him in the face their expression had altered. + +"Are you the Mr. Mackay who has a ranch somewhere near here?" + +"That's my brother, Angus," Turkey replied. + +"What a really Scotch name! Yours should be Donald, or Duncan, or +Murdoch?" + +"Worse than that," Turkey grinned. "Torquil. But most people call me +'Turkey.'" + +"May I call you 'Turkey'?" + +"If--if you like," Turkey stammered. + +"Well, I do like. And I like _you_, Turkey." + +"Huh!" said Turkey. + +"Really and truly I do. Don't you like me?" + +"I don't know you," the startled Turkey responded defensively. + +"Oh, Turkey! what a speech! But wouldn't you like to know me better?" + +Gosh! was this darn girl trying to be fresh, to flirt with him. + +"I--I hadn't thought about it," he stammered. + +"Oh, worse and worse! I want you to like me, and I want you to come and +see me. I'm going to live here--in this district--for a while." + +Turkey cast a longing eye at the blue mare. He would feel much safer in +the saddle. + +"Will you pay me a visit, Turkey--a nice, long visit. I'll make you +comfy, really I will. I'd love to." + +This was a holy fright. + +"I'm mighty busy just now," he replied. + +"You mean you won't. That's not nice." + +"Well, maybe I'll drop around some time," Turkey relented. + +"I'll look forward to it. And you know, Turkey dear"--Turkey jumped--"in +the brave days of old when brave knights rescued ladies they were +sometimes rewarded. Would you mind very much if I kissed you?" + +Turkey backed hastily toward the faithful blue mare. This girl was +crazy, and that was all there was to it. She shouldn't be out alone. A +crazy girl, plum' bugs on men! A devil of a note! And it was his luck to +get into a jackpot like that! + +"You--you'd better not," he said desperately. "It wouldn't be right, +anyway. I--I got consumption." + +This amazing female laughed. + +"Please let me kiss you, Turkey!" + +"Not by a--I mean, no chance!" Turkey replied emphatically. "If you feel +able to ride I'll go along with you to wherever you're going." + +The girl rose obediently. But as Turkey turned to the horses two strong, +rounded arms clasped him and warm lips pressed a kiss upon his cheek. +Disengaged, he staggered back. + +"It wasn't so bad, was it?" the girl laughed. "You won't be so shy next +time." She drew a fringed buckskin glove from her left hand, and to +Turkey's utter horror he beheld the dull gleam of gold upon the third +finger. + +A wedding ring! Oh Lord! Somebody's crazy wife. Suppose the husband +showed up and found a kissing match going on! + +"Turkey dear," said the crazy wife, "you haven't asked me who I am." + +"Well, who are you?" said Turkey. Likely she would claim to be Joan of +Arc or Pocahontas, and she would be calling him old Cap. Smith next. + +"I am Faith Mackay, Angus' wife!" + +"What!" Turkey gasped. + +Faith laughed, her eyes dancing. + +"I know you'll forgive me, Turkey. But you were so funny, and so +be-yewtifully shy! You wouldn't come to our wedding, and I never saw +you, and so I couldn't resist having a little fun with you." + +Turkey grinned shamefacedly. "I thought you were crazy," he admitted. + +"Yes, I thought you did. But I'm not--even if I did want to kiss you." + +"You can do it again if you like," Turkey suggested with sudden +enthusiasm. + +"Perhaps I shall when you come to pay me that long visit." + +Turkey frowned. "I guess you don't know how things are. Angus--" + +"Now, Turkey, listen to me: The whole trouble with you Mackays is that +you are too stiff-necked to get together and talk over your differences +frankly. Angus has his faults, but his good qualities outweigh them. +He's a _man_, Turkey, and I'm proud of him." + +"Oh, he's a man, all right," Turkey admitted frankly. "I never said he +wasn't. He's a darn good man; but all the same he's a darn hard man for +me to get along with. But it's funny. I was going to the ranch to-day to +see _you_." + +"That was nice of you." + +"I didn't mean it that way. I wanted to give you the deeds to your +land." + +"My deeds? But I have them." + +"Are you sure?" Turkey exclaimed. + +"Of course I'm sure. My uncle gave them to me before he died." + +Turkey was crestfallen. She ought to know. Then what the dickens was the +junk he had in his pocket? He produced the deeds and handed them to her. + +"Well, all I know is that these look like deeds to your father. I +thought you ought to have 'em, so I brought 'em along." + +She regarded the papers with a puzzled frown. + +"Why they seem just the same as the others. Why should there be two sets +of deeds?" + +"Search me," Turkey admitted. "They're the same, are they?" + +"I think so. I mean they _look_ the same, signatures and all." She read +the description of the property. "A thousand acres. Yes, that's the +same. Oh, wait! 'Beginning at a point ... and thence westerly--'" Her +forehead wrinkled in an effort of recollection. "Why, Turkey, they +_aren't_! I mean it's the same number of acres, but this puts my east +corner further west. I'm almost sure--Oh!" + +"What's the matter?" Turkey asked, for she was staring wide-eyed. + +"Oh, don't you see--but of course you wouldn't because you don't +know--but if these deeds are real--I mean if they are the real deeds--I +own the land which Mr. Braden claims--the coal land!" + +The comment which burst from the lips of the startled Turkey went +unreproved. + +"Where did you get these?" Faith demanded. + +Turkey told her the truth. When he had concluded Faith sat silent, +thinking. + +"Well," she said at last, "there are several things I don't understand. +But one thing is clear enough: You must come back to the ranch, and you +and Angus must be friends again. I'm going to insist on that. No more +misunderstandings. We all owe you a great deal, Turkey. And I'm going to +kiss you again." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +DUPLICATE DEEDS + + +Angus entering the ranch house from the rear, was amazed to see Turkey +with his wife and Jean. But when he learned of the runaway he took his +brother's hand in a hard grip. + +"Go easy!" Turkey objected, rescuing his crushed digits. "You've got no +business letting her ride that cayuse. He's a new one on me." + +"It wasn't Doughnuts," Faith exclaimed. "It was that new bay, but I +won't do it again. But it was worth it to meet Turkey and bring him +home. Now you boys have got to make up. Turkey, tell him what you told +me." + +Turkey told that and more. He told of the conversation he had overheard +between Garland and Poole. + +"Why, I blamed you for that ditch business," Angus said. + +"I know you did--now; but I didn't know it that night when you came to +my shack." + +Turkey proceeded. He told of seeing Braden take the documents from +French's safe, and of how he had obtained them. + +Angus scanned the deeds which Faith handed him, and going to a desk in +the corner found those which French had given Faith. He spread them on +the table and the four bent above them. Faith caught her breath sharply. + +"The description of the land _is_ different!" she cried. + +"Yes, it throws your land further west--all of it. According to this +your west line would be about where we thought it was--where French +originally told you it ran." + +"Then--?" + +"Then if these are the original deeds, you own the coal prospect that +Braden is developing." + +"If they are the originals the others must be forgeries." + +"Yes. It's plain enough. The originals were made by Braden and witnessed +by French. Somehow they found this coal and then they tried to buy you +out. When you wouldn't sell but demanded your deeds, they prepared new +ones, moving your block east and leaving out the coal lands. That was +easy, because Braden owned land on either side of yours. All they had to +do was to sign the new deeds themselves. Where they slipped up was in +not destroying the originals. I don't understand that, unless French +thought their possession would give him a hold on Braden if he didn't +play fair with the coal. Braden should have destroyed them when he stole +them from French." + +"But what are we going to do about it?" + +"I had better see Judge Riley." + +"What's the matter with you and me and maybe Dave going up there and +standing up the bunch and running them off?" Turkey suggested. "I'd like +to hold a gun on Garland. I'm going to get him. That was a dirty +trick--" + +"We'll get him. But Braden's the man I'm after. I'll give him a taste of +the law he's so fond of." + +"I'm thinking of Kathleen," Faith interposed. "If Braden was a forger, +so was her father." + +"But you can't let that deprive you of a hill full of coal." + +"No, I didn't mean that. But if there is any way in which it can be kept +quiet please take it." + +"That will depend on Braden," Angus replied. "Anyway, I'll see Judge +Riley the first thing to-morrow." + +In the morning they entered Judge Riley's office before the judge had +lighted his first pipe. He listened to Turkey's story, puffing hard, +occasionally rumpling his gray mane. + +"I knew it," he said. "I knew that some time Braden would put his foot +outside the law. Your potential law-breaker merely waits for an +opportunity which he thinks is safe. Braden thought he was safe enough, +and he is a pretty cautious individual. It is one thing to be morally +sure that he committed forgery and another to prove it. Now, let's see +what evidence we have to go on." + +He spread out both sets of documents on his desk and studied them +intently. + +"Both," he observed after an interval, "are in my opinion actually +signed by Braden and French--one as grantor and the other as witness. I +know their signatures very well. The notarial certificate of execution +is not material, because it is separate, and could easily have been +detached from the originals and attached to the others." + +"Your theory is that the deeds delivered by French to your wife were +prepared recently. Let us see if we can find anything in the deeds +themselves to corroborate that. They are on identical legal forms, and +seem to have been written on the same machine, for the same letters show +poor alignment, and the face of one, the small 'c' appears to have been +injured. Let me see: I have some old letters of Braden's." + +Rising he took down an old letter file and searched through it, finally +removing a letter. + +"This, like these deeds, is dated some seven years ago, and was written +in Braden's office. It exhibits the same peculiarities of type." + +"Well, wouldn't that show that both deeds were drawn seven years ago?" +Angus deduced in disappointment, for so far the judge's words were not +encouraging. + +"Not as bad as that. It would show merely that both were prepared on a +machine owned by Braden seven years ago. Here are other letters from +him, written on another and presumably more modern machine. He may have +the old one yet. It merely points to careful preparation--painstaking +forgery. But Turkey, here, cannot testify positively that Braden was +carrying a machine in the case that night, nor did he see him write +anything on a machine. He cannot identify the machine that he did see." + +"No," Turkey admitted. + +"So that even if we found the old machine in Braden's possession, it +would prove nothing," the judge went on. "Nor can you positively +identify the documents you saw Braden abstract from French's safe?" + +"No." + +The judge rumpled his mane and reflected. + +"The writing is slightly fainter in the deeds which we are trying to +prove are the more recent. That might go to show either that they were +written long ago, or recently with a dry or worn ribbon such as might +well be in an old, discarded machine. But there is not enough difference +to get us anywhere on that line. We can't depend on the testimony of +Braden's stenographer, for it is too long ago. She would probably +identify both as having been written on or about the dates which they +bear, merely by the peculiarities of type of the machine she used then. +Her evidence would probably be against us." + +"But take the whole thing," Angus urged. "Take French's attempt to buy +my wife out." + +"Unfortunately, you have no evidence to connect Braden with that. He +would deny all connection under oath, as he did to you. When you set out +to prove a case out of the mouth of a hostile witness, you are embarking +on a very doubtful enterprise. The fact is, Braden himself is the only +witness, and there is nothing so far to contradict the evidence he will +undoubtedly give if called." + +"But how can he account for the existence of two sets of deeds?" + +"I don't know," the judge replied, "but he will account for them. Don't +underestimate him. He's a cunning fox. Suppose I put myself in his +place. Assume that the documents delivered to your wife by French are +forgeries. The originals I should have destroyed, but did not. They are +stolen from my safe. I do not know who has them. I may suspect Garland, +because of the disappearance of the other paper, but I am not sure. In +any event I must provide against the possibility that they may be used +against me. Now what story will hold water? What would be plausible?" + +He drummed his spatulate fingers on his desk, his eyes half closed. + +"My effort," he resumed after a moment's silence, "has been to duplicate +the originals in every detail, to make it appear that the second were +prepared some seven years ago. Then my explanation must be one which +will naturally account for the preparation of two sets of deeds on or +about the same date. And that can only be because there was some mistake +in the first which rendered the preparation of the second necessary. +Now, what is the most natural mistake, the most everyday, common +mistake?" + +He paused again. + +"Misdescription!" he announced, "a misdescription of the property, a +clerical error in that. And it's so profoundly simple! The instrument +signed and witnessed carelessly, without comparison; then the discovery +that the land was wrongly described, followed by the preparation of a +second conveyance, and neglect to destroy the first, which of course is +void both by error and lack of delivery. There you are! That's Braden's +defense. And the devil of it is, that without evidence to contradict it +it's perfectly good." + +"Do you mean he gets away with it?" Turkey exclaimed. + +"On the face of it he does," the judge replied, "but sometimes faces +alter. No man can construct evidence without a weak spot somewhere. +Leave these papers with me. I'll think the whole thing over again." + +When his clients had gone he refilled his pipe and put his feet on his +desk. He sat for an hour, motionless, his cold pipe between his teeth. +Then once more he scrutinized the deeds carefully, looking at the faulty +type. At last he held them to the light and peered at them. Then he +brought his gnarled old fist down. + +"By George!" he muttered, "it's a slim chance, and unprofessional as the +devil, but it's about the only one I see. As matters stand, it would be +folly to launch an action. 'Conscience makes cowards.' That's truer than +most proverbs, and Braden's a rank coward at heart. I'll give him a few +days to get really nervous, and then I'll try it. It may work--yes, it +_may_ work." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +GARLAND PLAYS A HAND + + +As Mr. Braden was quite sure that Garland had abstracted the deeds he +expected to receive a proposition from him. When this did not come he +was puzzled. What was Garland waiting for? Was it possible that he was +dickering with Mackay? + +The result of this uncomfortable suspicion was that he began to sound +Garland, speaking carelessly of Faith's claim to the property, +ridiculing it. Garland, being by no means a fool, began to wonder why +Braden recurred to the subject, and began to lead him on. + +"What made her think she owned the thing?" he asked. "If her deeds are +all right they ought to show her what's hers." + +This confirmed Braden's suspicions. + +"You heard Mackay say French gave them to her before he died." + +"Yes, I heard that," said Garland. But if Braden kept insisting on those +deeds there must be something crooked about them. If they had been made +years ago, why hadn't they been handed over? And why was Braden talking +to him? The only answer was that he must be supposed to know something +which he did not. However, being a fair poker player he remembered that +the bluff of a pat hand has been known to win. He shot at a big venture: +"As long as she doesn't know any more than those deeds tell her, I guess +she won't make you any trouble," he said. + +There was no doubt at all in Mr. Braden's mind now about Garland. + +"Look here," he said, "are you going to make trouble for me--I mean are +you going to try to?" + +Garland was amazed at the result of his random shot, but had no +objection to picking up the birds thus fallen at his feet. + +"Not if you do the fair thing," he replied. + +"What do you call fair?" Mr. Braden demanded. + +Garland was in deep water. Braden wanted him to put a price on silence. +Well, he had no idea of the price Braden would be prepared to pay. + +"Fifty-fifty," he replied at a venture. + +"Fifty-fifty!" Mr. Braden echoed. "Why, you hold-up, you sneaking +safe-robber, I'll see you damned first. Those deeds you stole aren't +worth the paper they're written on." + +Here was real news for Garland. Deeds had been stolen from Braden's +safe. If they were the real deeds of the property and French and Braden +had delivered bogus ones to that girl, then Braden was in a devil of a +mess. And Braden thought _he_ had them. + +"I'll take a chance on that," he replied. + +But Mr. Braden, since the loss of the deeds, had been busy mentally +constructing a bomb-proof defense, and this had taken very nearly the +form anticipated by Judge Riley. + +"Then you won't get a nickel out of it," he told Garland. "They might +make a certain amount of trouble, but that's all. I'm not going to be +held up. You think because you stole that old note and statement of +yours when you took the deeds that I've no strings on you? Well, you try +anything and see." + +Garland in his surprise nearly exposed his hand. Here was a rotten +complication, which gave him a very live interest in the affair. While +evidence of his old transgression was in Braden's hands he had been sure +it would not be used. But now somebody else had it. Who would have an +interest in taking it, as well as deeds affecting the coal lands? +Obviously Mackay, who would like nothing better than to get something on +him. + +The position, then, in Garland's mind was that Angus Mackay had evidence +which proved his wife's title to the coal lands. But Braden thought that +he, Garland, had it. Mackay, also, had evidence of his, Garland's old +forgery. He must get that back. As to Braden's misapprehension he must +turn that to his own advantage. Braden, in his opinion, was simply +bluffing as to the nonimportance of the deeds. If he could get hold of +them he could hold Braden up. Also he would knock Mackay out of a very +promising property. But he must lose no time. It was a wonder Mackay had +not taken some action already. + +"Keep your shirt on," he advised Braden. "Don't try to bluff me. You +know if Mackay got hold of those papers it would raise the devil with +you. They show who really owns the property." + +"They are a mistake," Mr. Braden returned. "I mean they were drawn by +mistake. French gave the girl her deeds." + +Garland grinned. "Suppose he had given her the others, where would you +be?" + +"Suppose nothing of the sort!" Mr. Braden snapped. "I tell you they're +no good. You might as well give them back to me." + +"What do you want them for--if they're no good?" Garland grinned. + +"I'll give you a hundred dollars for them." + +Garland merely laughed, and though Mr. Braden increased his offer to +five hundred it was not accepted. He was reluctant to go higher, first, +because it would show Garland that he considered the deeds worth real +money; and second, because Garland did not seem anxious to press his +blackmail. The latter circumstance puzzled Mr. Braden. What was Garland +up to, anyway? He did not threaten to deal with Mackay, after that +single reference to him. Mr. Braden knew that he hated Angus, and +preferably would not deal with him. And so it was his own play to wait +and let the next suggestion come from Garland. There, temporarily, the +matter rested, because neither was in a position to press it to a +finish. + +But Mr. Braden, though he had what so far as he could see was a +perfectly good legal defense, experienced certain inward qualms. There +was always the possibility that something might go wrong with a defense, +if it came to that. That old Riley, for instance, who looked like a +scarred Airedale, would enjoy baiting him. He might find some flaw, some +kink of law, which might be embarrassing. Mr. Braden knew that his nerve +was not of the sort to stand a grueling by skilled counsel, especially +if he slipped once or twice. His would be almost the sole evidence. +There was comfort in that, but there was also responsibility. + +Looking into the future Mr. Braden foresaw the possibility of a +situation in which the possession of actual cash would be very +convenient if not necessary. He might have to pay Garland a lump sum. +Or, if he refused to do so and Garland made a deal with Mackay, he might +have to stand a trial. It might be a mere civil action to establish the +validity of the missing deeds; of it might be a charge of forgery. In +any event it would give him most undesirable publicity. His affairs were +very badly involved, and it would then be very hard to raise money. If +all went well, the coal would pull him out of the financial hole he was +in, and put him on his feet again. But meantime it would be prudent to +get together as much cash as he could. And so, very quietly, he set +about accumulating as much currency as possible, and as he obtained it +he placed it in his office safe, having now no confidence in his private +one. He regarded it as accident insurance. + +Meanwhile, Garland was making arrangements of his own. The job of +obtaining anything from Angus Mackay was not going to be easy, and +reluctantly he made up his mind that it was too big to be tackled +single-handed. Assistance meant sharing the profits, but unfortunately +it seemed to be a case. He thought of Poole, and would have preferred +him, but Mr. Poole packed no sand whatever. Finally he decided on Blake +French. Not that Blake had any too much courage, but he hated Mackay, +and having rapped him on the head once, he might be counted on to do it +again if necessary. Poole might be used for a scout, without telling him +a great deal. + +Blake French fell in with Garland's proposals with alacrity. He had had +trouble with his brothers since his father's death, culminating in a +short but vicious battle with Larry, in which the latter had got the +best of it. He suspected his brothers of having funds which they refused +to share with him. He himself was flat broke, without money to pay for +his numerous drinks. His brothers treated him as an outsider. He was +sure they were holding out on him. If he could get a share in that coal +proposition he would have the laugh on them; also it would be a chance +to get square with Mackay. And so he and Garland began to lay plans +looking to the acquisition of the missing deeds. The matter seemed +simplified for them by the circumstance that Angus Mackay and his bride +were now living, temporarily at least, in her cottage on the dry ranch. +This strengthened the hypothesis that Mackay had the deeds and was +living close to the coal prospect in order to keep an eye on it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +THE TURNING OF THE SCREW + + +If Mr. Braden had been puzzled by Garland's conduct in the first +instance, he became more so. Garland made him no proposition. The +thought that the latter might be dickering with the French boys crossed +Mr. Braden's mind, but was open to the objection that he would have to +share blackmail with them. On the whole, Mr. Braden concluded that he +had bluffed Garland. After a while the latter would part with the +document cheaply. + +Hence, when he received a visit from Judge Riley one day about the close +of business hours, he was very little perturbed. Mackay perhaps had +taken legal advice on his supposed right, or the judge might have come +on other business. But the lawyer's first words cleared up that point. + +"I am here," he said, "on behalf of my client, Mrs. Mackay. You are +aware that she claims ownership of the land on which coal has been +found?" + +"Her claim is nonsense," Mr. Braden asserted stoutly. + +"That's just what I am trying to clear up. As a result of what French +told her she always supposed she owned the land." + +"I'm not responsible for what French told her. I'm getting tired of this +absurd claim of hers. Her land is described in her deeds. That's her +evidence of title. You ought to know that." + +"Yes, I know that," the judge admitted mildly. "As it happens, she is +now able to produce a deed from you to her father conveying the land in +question." + +It was so entirely unexpected that Mr. Braden's heart decidedly +misbehaved. How in the name of all bad luck had this happened? Had +Garland, after all, made a dicker with Mackay? Had Mackay got those +infernal deeds? Or had he merely a suspicion, which Riley was trying to +confirm by a fishing trip for a damaging admission? + +"Nonsense!" he said. + +"Oh, no," the judge replied cheerfully. "To be quite frank with you, our +position is this: French, shortly before his death, delivered to his +niece a conveyance in duplicate from you to her father purporting to +convey certain lands therein described. This land lies immediately east +of the coal lands, but does not include them. We claim that this latter +conveyance is the true and original one." + +"Where did you get it?" Mr. Braden demanded. + +"Suppose French, feeling his end approaching, gave it to his niece?" + +"He--" Mr. Braden began and checked himself suddenly. Riley was laying +verbal traps for him. He must be careful. "If you have this conveyance, +let me see it." + +"You will see it at the proper time." + +"You mean that you haven't got it," Mr. Braden charged. + +The judge smiled. "You think I am trying to trap you into an admission. +Nothing of the sort. I said we could produce the documents. The only +difference between them and the others is the description of the +property. Same date, same witness. It's useless to deny the existence of +documents which I myself have seen." + +There was no doubt that the judge was telling the truth. So Garland had +sold out to Mackay. Mr. Braden's front trenches were carried, but he +believed his second line to be impregnable. + +"I'm not denying its existence. I know all about the thing, including +the fact that it was stolen from me." + +"The main thing is that it exists." + +"It exists, but it is worthless." + +"My clients consider it rather valuable." + +"I suppose they paid for it, but they've been stung. When I sold that +land to Winton, a clerk in my office prepared the deeds and got the +description wrong. When I discovered the error I had new deeds prepared +and executed, and they are what I suppose French gave to Winton's +daughter. I supposed he had given them to Winton long ago. So there you +are! You've found a mare's nest, and that's all there is to it." + +Judge Riley chuckled internally, though his face was grave. Braden was +doing the obvious. + +"Don't you compare conveyances before execution in your office?" + +"Of course I do. But in this case the error was in the description which +the clerk prepared and gave to the stenographer to copy. She copied it, +and it was compared with what had been given her." + +"Then who discovered the error?" + +"I did. It struck me that the description was not correct." + +"After you had signed it and French had witnessed it?" + +"Y--yes." There was hesitation in his voice. + +"Don't you read things over before you sign and have your signature +witnessed? Why didn't it strike you then?" + +"You aren't cross-examining me!" Mr. Braden asserted. + +"Not at all. I am just trying to understand a situation which is rather +extraordinary. Then, as I understand it, you had a new conveyance +prepared, and delivered it to French, and that's all you know about it?" + +"That's all," Mr. Braden confirmed. + +"Why didn't you destroy the other one?" + +"I suppose I overlooked it. The papers got among others." + +"And into your private safe." + +"Yes. And they were stolen from it." + +"But then you say they're worthless. You say that the two sets of papers +were drawn on the same day? The second wasn't prepared subsequently and +dated back?" + +Mr. Braden hesitated, trying to read the purpose behind the question. He +was again beginning to distrust Riley, who undoubtedly resembled an +Airedale. + +"I'm almost sure it was the same day. It may have been the next." + +"But at all events within, say, forty-eight hours?" + +"Yes." + +"Perhaps your stenographer might remember? Or your clerk?" + +"That clerk is dead," said Mr. Braden without noticeable regret. "My +stenographer might or might not remember. But she could identify the +papers as being written about the same time on the same machine." + +"How?" + +"Because I had only one machine in my office at that time, and that had +certain peculiarities of type. I scrapped it soon after that, and got a +new one. If you'll compare the deeds, you'll see they must have been +written on the same machine." + +"A very fair point," the judge admitted blandly. "You have an excellent +memory for details. But even if you establish that they were written on +the same machine, it would not prove that they were written on the same +day. For that you would have to depend on your evidence and that of your +stenographer." + +"I don't have to prove when they were written," Mr. Braden stated. "The +date of an instrument is _prima facie_ evidence. I know a little law +myself, Riley." + +"A little law is a very dangerous thing to know," the judge commented. + +"And I'm not going to be cross-examined by you," Mr. Braden declared. +"If you contend that those deeds were made at different times it's up to +you to prove it. Can you do that, hey?" + +"Yes," the judge replied. "Absolutely!" + +Mr. Braden almost jumped, and his heart again misbehaved. + +"H--how?" he asked in a voice which shook slightly. + +"In this way," the judge replied: "The conveyance delivered by French to +his niece and dated some seven years ago, is on paper bearing the +watermark of a firm which did not exist, much less manufacture a single +sheet of paper, until two years ago!" + +It was a terrible blow, direct, unexpected, smashing through Mr. +Braden's elaborate system of defense. It produced the shattering, +shocking effect of high explosive. For a moment he was speechless. He +rallied feebly. + +"It's--it's a lie!" he stammered. "They were written on the same legal +forms, printed by the same firm." + +"On the same legal forms," the judge conceded. "But law stationers as a +rule don't manufacture their own paper." His face became grim, his voice +rose, and he drove his accusation home as in the old days of his +greater prosperity he had broken other carefully prepared testimony. + +"That one detail, Braden, overlooked by you and French, destroys +entirely the plausible story you have invented. I am prepared to prove, +and prove to the hilt, that the deeds delivered by French to my client +are forgeries, prepared by you both to defraud a young woman of land +which, instead of being worthless as you supposed it to be when you sold +it to her father in fraudulent collusion with French, you suddenly +discovered to have a high potential value. I say I am prepared to prove +this, including the writing of the forged instruments on the same +machine. I am prepared to prove, too, how the original deeds passed from +French's possession to yours. You are in danger of standing in the dock +facing a charge which carries a very heavy penalty. You must decide here +and now, whether or not you will face that charge, and the damning +evidence which I am prepared to bring against you." + +Mr. Braden quailed before the stern voice and menacing finger of the old +lawyer. He was not of the stuff to fight up hill, to play out a losing +game to the last chip. What was the use? The judge had the goods on him. +He sagged in his chair, all fight gone, his face white, his heart +choking him. + +"Don'--don't prosecute me, Riley!" he pleaded in a shaking voice. "I'll +do anything you say. What do you want?" + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +SIGNS AND OMENS + + +The reason of the temporary residence of Angus and his wife at her +cottage lay principally in her whim. Angus laughed at it, but yielded, +and found it rather pleasant to be alone with his wife. From force of +habit he found a number of jobs which needed doing, things which should +be put in order before the winter; but Faith insisted that it was to be +a holiday. And so by day they rode leisurely along the base of the +hills, rested at noon beside clear springs, ate with healthy appetites, +and in the evenings returned to the cottage. Then there would be the +cheery open fire against the chill of the fall night, and by its +flickering light the banjo would talk and whimper, and chuckle, until +Faith, laying it aside, would snuggle against her husband, watching the +red heart of the fire, giving free rein to fancy. + +So, she thought and said, men and women had sat in the dim, forgotten +nights of the world, when the Red Flower first bloomed on the rude +hearts of cave and forest and beside the lone beaches of dead seas. +Angus laughed at her fancies, but in his own heart the spell of gut and +string and fire stirred something, too; and when the winds soughed +around the cottage and strained through the tree-tops he found himself +listening subconsciously for he knew not what. + +"You are a dreamer, too," Faith accused him. + +"I will be in about ten minutes." + +"You might as well 'fess up. I wonder if you and I ever sat before a +fire in a cave, together?" + +"I don't remember it, myself." + +"Oh, you may laugh, but it seems real to me--to-night. The wind in the +trees is like the hiss and roar of squall-swept seas. I can hear other +things, too--the soft padding of feet, and heavy, grunting, snuffling +breaths. That is the tiger or the great cave bear. But they can't get +in, because you have rolled the stone against the mouth of our cave." + +"Suppose I forgot it?" + +"Then to pay for your carelessness, you would have to fight old Sabre +Tooth. You would fight to the death for me, wouldn't you?" + +"And for myself." + +"Be gallant, please." + +"Cave men weren't gallant. They walloped ladies with clubs and abducted +them." + +"Happy thought. You have abducted me. No, not that, either, because I +was never anybody's but yours. But there is a very great warrior who is +trying to take me from you." + +"The old warrior sure has some nerve. What am I doing about that time?" + +"You fight," she told him, her eyes on the heart of the fire, "while I +stand by praying to the unknown God that you may kill him. And you do +kill him. And then you set your foot on his body and shake your war club +on high and shout a great wild song to the stars. Oh, I can see you now! +There is blood on your face, and the club is dripping with it, and I can +hear the fierce song!" + +"I'll bet the singing is fierce, too," Angus commented. But to his +surprise she was trembling in his arms, every nerve aquiver. "What the +dickens! Old girl, you're shaking! There now, that's plenty of that +nonsense. It isn't good for sleeping." + +For a moment she clung to him. "I'm awfully silly. But somehow it +seemed real--to-night. I wonder if it ever did happen?" + +"Of course not." + +"Well, it's funny. I was just making it up. And then suddenly I felt +that instead of making it up I was _recollecting_." + +As she paused, Angus' ear caught a faint sound from without. To him it +resembled the faint creak of a board beneath a stealthy footstep. For an +instant his body tensed. + +"What's the matter?" Faith asked. "Have you nerves, too?" + +"Not that I know of. Turn in now and get a good rest, and don't dream of +things." + +But when she had gone to her room he yawned, stretched himself, wound +the clock and passed into the hall leading to the kitchen. There hung +his belt with holster and gun. He took the gun, went swiftly through the +kitchen and outside. He circled the house, but neither saw nor heard +anything, and so he went in again. But when he turned in, having +extinguished the light, he laid the gun on the floor beside the bed, and +in the morning smuggled it out without Faith's knowledge. Before she had +risen he examined the ground around the house, but found no footprints +other than their own. And so he came to the conclusion that whatever he +had heard had not been a footstep. + +He pottered around all morning, and in the afternoon decided to ride in +to town and see Judge Riley. The latter might have some news. + +"Well, I won't go," Faith decided. "I have bread to bake, and it's too +far, anyway. I'll have supper ready when you get back." + +But when Angus reached the judge's office it was closed. In the post +office he found a note from him, consisting of four words: "Want to see +you," and upon inquiry he learned that the lawyer had driven out with +Dr. Wilkes to see a rancher named McLatchie who being taken suddenly ill +had sent for legal as well as medical assistance. Angus decided to wait. +As he strolled down the street he met Rennie emerging from Dr. Wilkes' +office. + +"Hello," he said. "What's the matter with _you_?" + +"Nothing with me," Rennie returned. "I was just doin' an errand. But +they tell me the doc's out." + +"What is it?" Angus asked, for Rennie's face was troubled. + +"You ain't heard? Well, Mary, that granddaughter of old Paul Sam, has +been missin' some days, and to-day they find her--drowned." + +"Good Lord!" Angus exclaimed. "How did it happen?" Rennie's face +darkened. + +"I dunno. They say she drowned herself. They say some white man is mixed +up in it. She was a notch or two above the ordinary klootch, and so--oh, +well, it's just the same old rotten mess!" + +"Poor girl!" Angus said after a moment of silence. "This will be hard on +old Paul Sam. Do the Indians know this white man?" + +"I dunno. I heard--mind you I dunno what there is in it--that Blake +French is the man. He's dirty enough. But I dunno's the Injuns know it. +I seen old Paul Sam. He wasn't talkin'. Just sittin' starin' straight +ahead. And the klootch lyin' on her bed alongside him where they'd put +her down. Ugh! Some of 'em wanted to send the doc out. He makes reports +of deaths and such to the government, and then he's coroner. So I +come." + +The event touched Angus deeply. He had known the dead girl all his life. +She was, as Rennie said, a notch or two above the ordinary klootch. Paul +Sam, too, was a good Indian, a friend of his and of his father's, so far +as the white man who knows the Indian admits him to friendship. It would +be a heavy blow for the old man. But unless some of the young bucks took +the law into their own hands it was unlikely that the man responsible +for the tragedy--Blake French or another--would suffer at all. + +It was long after dark when the judge drove in, and Angus waiting at the +livery stable, greeted him. + +"How's McLatchie?" he asked. The judge, with emphasis, consigned +McLatchie to torment. + +"A bellyache!" he exclaimed, "and he thought he was going to die. I +wanted Wilkes to cut him open, just as a lesson. And will you believe +me, the damned Scotch--I beg your pardon, Angus, I mean the damned +lowlander--when the fear of God produced by the fear of death left his +rotten heart with the pain from his equally rotten stomach, refused to +make his will. I made him do it, though--and pay for it. Well, you got +my note. Come up to the office, where we can talk." + +But when he had lit a couple of lamps which illuminated his office and +turned to his desk he stopped short. + +"Somebody's been in here," he said. "Things are not as I left them." He +drew out the drawers of his desk. "Aha!" he exclaimed, for the papers +they held had evidently been taken out and jammed back in disorder. "Now +what misguided idiot thought a law office worth robbing? I wonder, +now--By the Lord! but I believe that's it!" + +"What?" + +"Why somebody's been after _your_ documents," the judge replied. "O-ho, +Braden, me buck! You must think I'm a fool!" + +"You mean you think Braden was trying to get back the original deeds?" + +"And something else. It's a poor tribute he pays to my intelligence, +thinking I'd leave such papers lying at the mercy of a flimsy door lock. +People think I am careless, old-fashioned, because they can't see a safe +in my office. Well, anybody can blow a safe--if the safe can be found. I +had one blown once, and it was nearly the ruin of me. But look here!" A +section of wainscoting swung out under his hand, revealing the face of a +steel safe. "No local man had anything to do with installing this," the +judge said; "and back of it is a false wall to my inner room." He spun +the combination and threw the door open. Taking out a thick envelope he +drew from it a single sheet of paper which he handed to Angus. + +Angus read in amazement. It was a brief statement signed by Braden +acknowledging forgery by French and himself, and an acknowledgment of +the authenticity of the original deeds. + +"How on earth did you get this?" he asked. + +The judge told him. + +"Well, that was mighty clever of you," Angus said in admiration. "I'd +never have thought of that." + +"Braden didn't either," the judge said drily. "And what's more he never +thought that my statement about the watermark might be worth verifying." + +"Do you mean you bluffed him?" Angus exclaimed. + +"It was the only way," the judge nodded. "His story, stuck to through +thick and thin, would have prevailed because we had no evidence to +contradict it. But being guilty, it never occurred to him to demand an +inspection of the papers. It may have occurred to him now. He may have +searched my office in my absence, hoping to get back his confession as +well as the deeds. But most of us realize our mistakes too late." + +"Judge" Angus said solemnly, "you are a wonder." + +"When I was your age I would have agreed with that," the judge grinned. +"But I am merely an old dog with some experience of foxes. This settles +Braden's hash. He will leave town--and possibly leave some creditors." + +"I thought he had plenty of money." + +"He has lost a good deal lately in speculation--lost it or tied it up. I +imagine he will get together what cash he can and leave. His debts are +none of my business. I will now have these deeds registered, and you +will have no more trouble about title." + +"When you send me your bill, put in the watermark." + +"My bill will have a sufficiently high watermark to suit you," the judge +chuckled. "And now, young man, I'm too old to be modest. Naturally you +will incorporate, sooner or later, to work this property to advantage. I +want to incorporate you, and I want such of the company's legal work as +I am competent to handle." + +"That's all of it." + +"I meant that," the judge admitted. "And if I were permitted to buy a +block of stock on as good terms as anybody I would take it." + +"That goes, of course," Angus agreed, "and it doesn't by any means +cancel our obligation to you. And now I must be drifting. My wife is +alone, and I was to have been back by supper." + +"You'll have a dark ride." + +"My horse has good feet. Good night, judge, and thank you again." + +The wind struck Angus hard as he left the office. It was blowing great +guns, and as the judge had said, it was very dark. When he left the +lights behind it was better as his eyes became accustomed to the +darkness. But ragged clouds hung low, and the mountains usually visible +against even the sky of night could not be seen. The wind was roaring +through the tops of the firs with a sound of running waves. But the road +was good, and when Chief of his own notion struck into a long, +trail-devouring lope, he did not check him. + +He was suddenly anxious to get back to Faith. He wished to tell her the +good news, but that did not account for the uneasy feeling that +possessed him, tugging at his ordinarily steady nerves. There seemed to +be no reason for it; yet it persisted and even increased. He realized +with disgust that he was nervous. Something seemed to impend. The roar +of the wind was sinister, minatory. The darkness seemed to hover above +like a bird of prey, ready to strike. He swore angrily at himself for +such fancies. + +"I've got the nerves of a squirrel to-night," he muttered. "I'll be +seeing things next. Go on, Chief, old boy! Leak out of here!" + +With the touch of his feel the big chestnut settled to the business of +covering ground. The wind increased, and with it came rain, huge drops +driving like buckshot, stinging as they hit. Somewhere off the road a +tree snapped and crashed down. + +"Timber!" Angus shouted to the darkness, for the storm and the pace were +getting into his blood, and with their entry his nervousness was +replaced by a feeling of exhilaration. Then the chestnut rose in a clean +sailing jump, and Angus realized that he had cleared a fallen tree. But +he did not slacken speed. + +They were off the main road now, on the less used trail, and the ranch +was little over a mile distant. Angus could picture Faith waiting, +wondering what had detained him, perhaps a little anxious because of the +storm. She would laugh when he told her that he had suffered from +nerves. She-- + +Chief snorted, leaped, and something caught Angus across the chest. For +a moment it yielded, tautened and snapped back, tearing his tight grip +loose. At the pace he was riding it plucked him from the saddle as a +hawk lifts a chick from the brood, flinging him backward to the earth. +He struck it heavily on his shoulders and the back of his head. He had a +dim impression of somebody or something leaping on him, of a blow, and +then darkness shut down absolutely. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +TERROR + + +Toward five o'clock, her bread being baked, Faith put in the oven a pan +containing two young mallards and a blue grouse, all overlaid with +strips of bacon. She made her vegetables ready and set the table. Now +and then she glanced from the window expectantly, but saw nothing of +Angus. When dusk came she lighted the lamps. + +Finally she ate her own supper alone, slightly annoyed. Angus had +promised to be back in time. Something must have detained him. She put +his meal in the warming oven, sat down and tried to read. But somehow +the book failed to interest. She had recourse to the banjo, but that +little sister of the lonesome failed of charm. The wind rose until it +was blowing a gale. Once she went to the door and looked out. The +darkness seemed intense. + +Ten o'clock came. What on earth was keeping Angus? She began to worry, +which she told herself was absurd. Resolutely she sat down and picked up +a book. She would not allow herself to be stampeded by nerves. She made +up her mind to sit on that couch before the fire until her husband +returned. + +She found it hard to keep this resolution. She craved movement. She +wanted a drink, an apple, a different book--anything, to get up and move +around. But she resisted these assaults on her will. + +Her thoughts reverted to the foolery of the preceding night. She had +pretended to be a cave woman with her man. Now she was alone. What +happened to those ancient women whose men went out never to return? How +long did they feed the fire o' nights, and listen alone to the noises of +the dark? The fancy proved more attractive than the book. She leaned +back comfortably, enjoying the play of her imagination, constructing the +life story of an unknown sister in the dawn of the world and presently, +in proof that there was nothing seriously wrong with her nerves, she +fell asleep before the fire. + +She woke with a start. There were footsteps in the house. Angus, then, +had come back. She smiled, contented. She would scold him--in fun. But +as she listened the footsteps seemed to differ from his firm, light +tread. The handle of the door turned and a man who was not Angus stood +framed in the opening--a man who wore a handkerchief across his face, +whose eyes, invisible beneath the shadow of a broad hatbrim, peered at +her through holes cut in the fabric. + +Though a horrible, sinking feeling of nervousness assailed her, she did +not cry out. She regarded the intruder in silence. As he came into the +room she stared at him--at his leather chaps, at the gun in its holster, +at his hands, taking in every little detail. He spoke. + +"Don't be scared," he said in deep tones which she judged were +unnatural. "You won't be hurt." + +"I'm not afraid," she replied, and was surprised to find her voice quite +steady. "What do you want?" + +"I want those deeds." + +He could mean only the deeds Turkey had given her. Then he must be an +emissary of Braden. Obviously it was not Braden himself. But how could +he know who had the deeds? + +"Now, listen," the masked man added as she did not reply: "I know you +have them. I know they are here in this house. You'll save trouble by +handing them over." + +"I'll do nothing of the sort," Faith told him; "and you had better go +before my husband comes home." + +The masked man laughed. "Your husband won't be home for a while. If you +won't give them to me I'll find them myself." + +"Very well," Faith replied. "But don't break anything, please." + +"You've got nerve, all right," the man conceded. As he spoke another man +similarly masked entered, standing by the door. The first turned to him +and they held a whispered conversation. "Well, we'll look for 'em," the +first man announced. "If you're sensible you'll just sit quiet." + +Faith sat quietly while they took a leisurely survey of the room. Her +writing desk in the corner was their first objective point. Suddenly it +came to her that their manner of procedure was too leisurely. They did +not fear interruption. She remembered the first man's words when she had +spoken of her husband. Was his continued absence in some way due to +them? She felt a sickening apprehension, a feeling of desertion, of +helplessness. + +She began to study the intruders, to find if she could note something by +which to identify them. There was nothing recognizable about the first. +The second was a big man. His face was quite invisible. A riding slicker +concealed most of his figure. She had not heard his voice. And yet she +found something elusively familiar in his presence. + +From her bedroom she heard the sounds of drawers pulled out and closed +and the slam of a trunk lid. She would have been amused at the +hopelessness of their search but for her growing anxiety for her +husband. Even if he did come, they were armed and he was not. The search +progressed from one room to another, and as it did so it became more +impatient. At last they gave it up, and the first man advanced to her. + +"You have those papers pretty well cached," he admitted. "Where are +they?" + +"I thought you were going to find them." + +"You can cut that out. Now you're going to tell us where they are." + +"Am I?" + +"That's what I said. Now see here; I'm going to give it to you straight: +Your husband isn't going to come home till we turn him loose. He told us +you had those deeds. When you give 'em up you'll see him, and not +before." + +"My husband never told you anything of the sort," Faith said. "You're +merely bluffing." + +"Bluffing or not, we're going to get what we came for. You're alone. +There isn't a living soul in miles. We don't want to hurt you or your +husband, but if you've got any sense you'll give up, and save trouble +for everybody." + +"What you want isn't here," Faith told him. + +"Where are those deeds? Who has them?" + +"I won't tell you." + +"We know they are here. Riley hasn't got them, because we've gone +through his office. And your husband hasn't got them, because we've gone +through _him_. So you have them. You can't bluff us. No more nonsense, +now!" He caught her wrist with one hand, while with the other he thrust +the muzzle of his gun in her face. "Hand them over," he snarled +ferociously, "or say your prayers!" + +But in spite of the fact that the ring of steel almost touched her +forehead Faith was not convinced. It was melodrama, tawdry, poor. The +man was a poor actor. She laughed in his face. + +"Take care!" she said, "you are hurting my wrist." + +For a moment the muzzle touched her forehead and the grip tightened. +Then he flung her wrist aside. + +"What the hell can you do with a woman, anyway?" he demanded in disgust. +But his companion sprang forward. "You let her bluff you," he growled +hoarsely, "but she won't bluff me!" He caught Faith by the throat. +"Where are they?" he demanded. "Talk quick, or I'll choke you!" His +fingers compressed her throat till she gasped. The strong taint of +alcohol met her nostrils. + +"No, damn it!" the first man cried, in protest; but his companion cursed +him, swinging Faith between them. + +"You keep out of this!" he cried savagely. "I'll make her talk inside a +minute!" And his grip shut down. + +This time there was no bluff. Faith realized the primitive savagery of +the hands that were laid on her. With the knowledge she fought wildly, +like a cornered animal. For a moment the other man was forgotten. Anger +and fear lent her strength. She caught at the handkerchief which hid her +assailant's face, and as he loosed one hand to catch her wrist, she +broke away, tearing the cloth with her. She reeled back, gasping, +disheveled, her dress torn at the throat, her hair bursting from +confining pins falling on her shoulders. + +"Blake!" she cried hoarsely. "Blake French!" + +Stripped of his disguise, Blake French faced her, lowering, +ferocious--but suddenly afraid. + +"I wasn't going to hurt you," he said. + +Her hands went to her throat. + +"To hurt me? You liar! You utter brute! Is that what you will tell my +husband?" + +Blake's face contorted. He took a step forward. + +"You'll tell him, will you?" + +"Of course I will!" Faith cried. + +Blake French knew that her recognition was disastrous. The whole plan, +including the blackmail of Braden, had depended upon recovering the +deeds without recognition. But now the matter of the deeds faded into +nothingness. His innate brutality had swept him away, carried him too +far. Apart from the law he knew the penalty that Angus Mackay would +exact from the man who laid hands on his wife. But Angus was lying +roped, helpless, a mile away. He was afraid, desperate. There must be +silence; at all costs, silence. + +He advanced. Faith sprang back, putting the table between them. But +Garland suddenly interposed. Like Blake, he saw the collapse of their +plans, but he accepted the failure. + +"No more of that!" he said. "Let her alone!" + +Blake turned on him in fury. + +"You damned fool!" he snarled. "We've got to fix her, and Mackay, too, +now!" + +"You're crazy!" Garland cried. "Do you want to hang?" + +"And do you want Mackay to kill you?" Blake retorted. He sprang forward, +caught the table and thrust it aside. But Garland caught his arm. + +"Let her alone, I tell you!" he repeated. "Come on; it's all off. Let's +get out of here!" + +Blake with a swift jerk ripped the concealing handkerchief from +Garland's face. "Let her take a look at you, too!" he cried and flinging +him aside drew his gun and turned on Faith. + +Faith, facing him helpless, found herself looking into the eyes of +Murder. It was useless to run. She stood and waited, white to the lips, +but looking him in the face. The gun rose. Garland, recovering, sprang +at Blake. But at that instant the door went wide with the crash of a +shattered catch, and into the room bounded Angus Mackay. + +He was hatless, wet, plastered with mud. His eyes blazed in his swarthy +face. At a glance they took in the disorder, the overturned table; Faith +standing at bay, Blake French with drawn gun, Garland suddenly arrested +in his spring. Then in grim, deadly silence he launched himself at +Blake. + +Faith saw the gun shift and swing. Its report in the confines of the +room was shattering. Garland struck Blake's arm as the weapon blazed a +second time; but Angus staggered and pitched forward at Blake's feet. + +Forgetful of all else Faith sprang forward and knelt beside him, lifting +his head. Blood oozed horribly from his dark hair. She turned her face, +white, anguished, to his slayer. Above her, Garland in panic cursed +Blake. + +"Now you've done it!" he said between oaths. "You've killed him." + +"She--she'll tell!" Blake chattered with quivering lips. "We've got +to--" He raised his gun with twitching hand. Garland caught it. He +thrust his own weapon in Blake's face. + +"If you try that I'll blow your head off!" he declared. With a quick +wrench he twisted the weapon from Blake, and menacing him with his gun +shoved him toward the door. "We've got to make a get-away. Get the +horses, quick!" At the door he hesitated. Returning he knelt beside +Faith. + +"Let me see a minute," he said. Her senses were too dulled to shrink +from him. Suddenly he drew a quick breath, almost a gasp of relief. "He +isn't dead." + +"Not dead?" Faith cried. + +"Not by a long ways. Just creased along the scalp. I guess I hit the gun +just in time, and I'm mighty near as glad as you are. He'll be all +right. I just want to say, before I pull out, that I never meant to do +more than scare you. Maybe you think I'm lying, and I don't blame you. +But I'm not." + +"I believe you," Faith said. In her sudden relief lesser things did not +matter. "I don't know what to do. Stay and help me, please." + +"I guess you don't understand," he returned, shaking his head. "This +would mean about twenty years apiece for me and Blake if we're caught. +And then"--he nodded at Angus--"when he comes around there won't be room +enough in this country for him and us." + +"But I'll tell him you helped me--how you struck Blake's arm--and +afterward!" + +"You're one white girl," Garland said with emphasis, "but I'm in too +deep. You can tell him if you like, and you can tell him I'm pulling +out. I never meant to do more than bluff you. Good-by." + +He was gone. Faith got water, towels, and bathed Angus' head. Touching +the wound with tender fingers she found that as Garland had said it was +apparently in the scalp merely. Presently Angus sighed, stirred, +muttered and opened his eyes. + +"Hello!" he said, and as recollection came to him he sat up suddenly, +staring around. "Where are they?" he demanded. + +"They are gone, dear. It's all right. Don't try to get up." + +But he shook his head impatiently and rose to his feet. + +"What happened? Blake French and Garland! What were they doing? What's +the matter with your hair? Your dress is torn." A tremendous expletive +burst from him. "What are those marks on your throat?" + +Her hand fluttered upward involuntarily. "Nothing. Never mind now. +Please----" + +"They laid hands on you!" he cried. "On _you_! And I wasn't here! Tell +me. No, no, I'm all right. Tell me!" + +She told him, seeing his face set and grow rigid. He groaned. + +"They stretched a rope between two trees, and I rode into it. The fall +almost knocked me out, and they finished the job. They roped me up. It +took me a long time to get loose." He held out his wrists, stripped of +skin to the raw flesh. "I was afraid of some devil's work, but----" He +broke off, shaking his head, and put his hand to his left side. When he +removed it his finger tips were stained. + +"Oh, you are hurt--twice!" Faith cried. + +"I don't think this is much." He stripped himself to the waist. The +lamplight revealed a red furrow lying along his ribs, but though it bled +freely the skin was little more than broken. To Faith's pleading to lie +down he shook his head. On his instructions she brought an old sheet +which he ripped into a long bandage. "That was Blake's first shot," he +said as he replaced his garments. "He'll have to do better shooting than +that--next time." + +"Next time?" she exclaimed. + +He did not reply, but going into the hall came back with a rifle in one +hand and his gun belt in the other. + +"Old girl, please rustle me some grub--cold meat and bread--and put it +in an old sugar sack." + +"But Angus, what are you going to do?" + +"To do? I am going after Blake French and Garland, of course." + +"But you are hurt. You are not fit--" + +"I am not hurt at all--to speak of. I have a long account to settle with +Blake French and Garland--yes, and with the whole bunch of those +Frenches and Braden as well--and now I am going to clean it up." + +"But if I forgive--" + +"Forgive!" he interrupted bitterly. "It doesn't matter to me what you +forgive. You are a woman. But I am a man and you are my wife, and I can +see the marks of Blake French's fingers on your flesh. As surely as God +lives I will kill him, or he will kill me. About Garland I don't +know--yet." + +His will was set, hardened; his mood black, deadly. Immediately he set +about his simple preparations. He knew that Blake and Garland would not +wait his coming. In all probability they would break for the hills, +where he must be prepared to follow them. He had found Chief, who had +come home of his own accord, waiting by the gate. A pack pony would +hamper his movements. He shoved his food in a sack, rolled a single +blanket in a tarp, got out a heavy sweater and changed his boots for +shoe-packs. Then he held out his arms to Faith. She clung to him. + +"Don't go!" she pleaded. "If anything should happen--now--" + +"I must go," he said. "If I didn't I should be less than a man. Nothing +will happen--to me. To-morrow--or it's to-day now, I guess--go to the +ranch and stay there till I get back." + +He kissed her gently and put her from him. She followed him to the door +and saw him mount. He waved his hand and vanished in the blackness of +the night. + +Faith returned to the living-room and sank into a chair. She was shaken, +bone-tired, sick at heart. A lifetime seemed to have passed since she +and Angus had sat there the night before, indulging in make-believe +playing at tragedy. Now tragedy had invaded their lives. It was like an +evil dream. + +How long she sat there she never knew. Nor did she know how she became +aware that she was not alone. She turned her head to see a figure +standing behind her. Her shaken nerves forced a cry from her lips. + +It was the old Indian, Paul Sam. There was a rifle under his arm, and +around his middle was a belt from which in a beaded scabbard hung a +long, broad-bladed knife. He was hatless, and his long, gray hair hung +in two braids in front of his shoulders. + +"All right," he said. "You not be scared. Where him Angus?" + +"He isn't here." + +The old Indian's eyes roved around the room, resting on the signs of +disorder. "Iktah mamook?" he queried. + +"I don't understand." + +"What you mamook? What you do?" He threw up his head, his nostrils +twitching like a dog's. "Smell um smoke," he said. "Somebody shoot. You +see um Blake French?" + +"He was here, but he has gone," Faith told him. + +The old Indian's dark eyes peered at her, noting her agitation. "Me ol' +man," he said. "Angus, him my tillikum. You him klootchman, him wife, +all same my tillikum. Goo'-by." + +Faith, left alone, knew she could not sleep. She dreaded the darkness, +the lying waiting for slumber which would not come. She decided to stay +before the fire till daylight. Then she would go to the Mackay ranch. + +The wind had ceased, and in the comparative stillness she heard a low, +distant drumming which she recognized as the sound of horses' hoofs. +They approached, halted, and she started up in apprehension. What would +happen next? Was everybody abroad that night? Footsteps tramped on the +veranda; somebody knocked. + +"Who is there?" she demanded. + +"Me--Turkey." + +She opened the door. There stood Turkey. Shadowy in the background was +Rennie with the horses. She saw that Turkey was armed. + +"What's the matter?" he asked. "You look sick. Where's Angus?" + +She told him, finding relief in the confidence. Turkey might bring Angus +back, or see that no harm befell him. As he listened a hard light came +into Turkey's eyes. + +"If Angus don't get Blake and Nick Garland, I will," he declared. "But I +didn't know they were here. I thought they were with the bunch that did +up Braden." + +"Did up Braden?" + +Turkey nodded. "The French boys--I thought sure Blake was in it, but I +guess he couldn't have been--blew open Braden's safe and got away with +the whole works. Braden was shot. Dave and I are part of a posse raised +to round them up, and I wanted Angus. Braden, before he died, said that +Gavin French is the man that shot father." + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +OUTLAWS! + + +Mr. Braden, some twenty-four hours after his interview with Judge Riley, +made the shocking discovery that in all probability he had laid down a +pat hand before a bluff. But though the discovery brought him to the +verge of an apoplectic fit, it came too late. He had signed a statement +covering the facts. Under the circumstances it did not matter who had +the deeds. If Garland, then his scheme of blackmail would fall down. Mr. +Braden found ample to occupy him in the crisis which the loss of the +coal property made in his affairs. + +The fact was that he was very hard up. The supposed ownership of a +promising coal mine had bolstered up his shaky credit. But as soon as it +was known that this was no longer his, one or two creditors would come +down on him and start an avalanche. And then, though Riley had promised +not to prosecute, it was inevitable that some suspicion of crookedness +would attach to him. Under the circumstances he was forced to the +conclusion that he had played out his string. He had been wise to secure +cash. He could raise a few thousand more, and as soon as he did so he +would pull out. At once he began to convert his few remaining assets, +and as he turned them into cash he put it in his office safe, in a +private compartment. The total formed a nice nest egg for the future. +His creditors in the course of time might get judgment and be hanged to +them, but the cash would be where it could not be tied up by +injunctions. + +Nevertheless, the strain told on his nerves. For some time he had slept +badly, and now he slept scarcely at all. Whisky, which formerly had had +a soporific effect, now failed, though he doubled the quantity. + +And so, as Angus rode home through the darkness, Mr. Braden lay awake. +His mind, after the habit of the insomniac, searched for, dug up and +turned over the most unpleasant things within his recollection, driving +sleep farther and farther away. It dwelt upon mistakes, failures, +humiliations of years before. The wind roared and rain splashed upon the +windows; and Mr. Braden, cursed by a thousand plaguing little devils of +memory, cursed the night and the darkness and longed for day. + +At last he dozed, but was awakened by a muffled, jarring reverberation +which shook his bed slightly. It was much like localized thunder. He lay +listening, and his ear caught a sound below. + +Somebody was in his office. In an instant he was out of bed. He +reflected that the boss of a local logging camp who had a payroll to +meet the next day, had deposited a considerable amount of cash in his +safe. No doubt that was what the robbers were after. But they would not +overlook his own cash, too. He could not obtain help until too late. He +must stop them single-handed, if at all. + +His knees shaking slightly, Mr. Braden padded softly across the room to +a wardrobe from which he took an old hammer ten-gauge shotgun, found a +box of antique shells, and filled the chambers. Then he stole cautiously +down stairs. + +The door of his office was closed. He turned the knob and gently opened +the door a crack. In the darkness the rays of a flashlight flickered on +his open safe. Figures were vaguely outlined. He could not tell how +many there were. Obviously, the thing to do was to cover them with the +shotgun, but light was necessary, for otherwise they might attack him in +the dark. His office was wired, and just beside the door was a switch. +He put the gun to his shoulder, holding it with one hand while he felt +for the switch. He found it, turned it, and the office sprang into +light. + +Three men were beside the safe. One held a flash light, another the +mouth of a gunny sack to which the third was transferring the safe's +contents. + +"Hands up!" Mr. Braden commanded in a voice which shook badly. + +The three men sprang erect. Mr. Braden recognized Gavin, Gerald and +Larry French. They had made no attempt to conceal their faces. They +blinked, frowning in the sudden light. + +"You infernal scoundrels!" cried Mr. Braden. "Put up your hands! Put +them up I tell you. If you make a move I'll shoot." + +Mr. Braden's mistake was in reiteration. Etiquette and common sense +alike demand that instant obedience to a gun be enforced by the gun +itself. In this case the muzzle of the gun wavered and wobbled badly. + +"Put that gas-pipe down!" Gavin said contemptuously. + +"Put up your hands!" Mr. Braden repeated. "I'll shoot, I tell you. I +will! I--" + +Quite by accident, in response to unintentional pressure of an unsteady +finger, the ten-gauge roared and the shot charge, almost solid at that +short range, passing between Gavin and Gerald struck and spattered +against the steel wall of the safe. Instantly, Gerald jerked a +six-shooter from its holster and fired and fired twice. + +Mr. Braden's face assumed an expression of dumb wonder. The shotgun +sagged, exploded again, and the charge ripped the floor. He sank +downward, pitched forward, and lay still. + +"Hell's fire!" cried Gavin. "What did you do that for?" + +"What for?" Gerald returned. "Because I don't want to be shot, myself." + +"He didn't mean to shoot. He wouldn't have shot again." + +"Then he was damned careless," Gerald replied. "One barrel of a shotgun +is plenty for me. It was coming to him." + +But in a rolling explosion of oaths Gavin cursed his brother for a fool. +He had spilt the beans. There would be a devil of a row. They would have +to make a get-away. + +"What for--if he can't talk?" Gerald asked. + +But at that moment Larry uttered an exclamation. He pointed to a window. +Against the pane below the drawn blind was a face white in the reflected +light. Almost instantly it vanished. Outside they heard running feet. + +"How about a get-away now?" Gavin demanded. "He's gone to get help. I +know him. He's a clerk in Park's law office." + +"I guess that settles it," Gerald concurred coolly. Swiftly he scooped +the remaining currency into the sack. "Well," he added, "we've got +something to make a get-away on." + +"Come on, come on," young Larry urged. + +"Keep cool," said Gerald. + +"If you'd kept cool," the younger man retorted, "we could have bluffed +Braden." + +But none of them voiced a regret for Braden himself. His death, if he +was dead, was to be deplored merely as it might affect them. Gavin +turned the huddled figure over and swore afresh. + +"You're too smooth with a gun, Jerry. He isn't dead yet, but I guess +he's got his. Now we have to beat it." + +They emerged on the streets and ran for their horses, tethered on the +outskirts of town, mounted and pounded off on the trail toward the +ranch. They rode fast, but without forcing their horses, for later they +would need all that was in the animals. + +The ranch was dark as they rode up to it. They loosened cinches, removed +bridles and gave the horses feed. Entering the house they began to throw +an outfit together. + +Gavin, mounting the stairs, knocked at his sister's door. + +"I want to talk to you, Kit." + +"In the morning." + +"No, now." + +"Come in, then." + +She sat up in bed as he struck a match and lit the lamp. As he turned to +her the big man's cold, blue eyes softened a shade in expression. He sat +on the side of the bed and put his arm around her. + +"Kittens, old girl, I've only got minutes. Jerry, Larry and I have got +to pull out." He told her why, bluntly, feeling her body tense and +stiffen. "So that was how it was," he concluded. "And now here's what +we're going to do: We're going to break north through the hills and work +up into the Cache River Valley. Then we'll go east or west, whichever +looks best. We may split up, or not. Here's some money--no, no, this is +all right. Braden never saw this. It's mine. Don't give any of it to +Blake. And here's what you do: This place is sunk with a mortgage, so +sell your own horses and quit it. Let the tail go with the hide. Get out +of here, and wherever you go subscribe for the _Pacific Spokesman_. Read +the 'lost' column every day, and when you see an ad. for a lost horse +with our brand, answer it. I'll be doing that advertising. I guess +that's all. I'm sorry, Kit, but it's the best I can do for you now." + +"Yes, it's the best," she admitted. "Don't worry about me. I was going +to leave here anyway. I'm going to do something, I don't know just what. +But ever since father died I've known I couldn't go on as we've been +going. You've made an awful mess of things--you boys. I've seen you +going down hill--from bad to worse--losing your self-respect and that of +others, falling lower and lower, till it has come to--this. + +"And I've gone downhill myself. I've lived on money, knowing how it was +obtained, and saying nothing. I'm not preaching. I'm not finding fault. +But I'm through. And I'm through with you boys unless you change. Of the +whole lot, you're the only one I care anything about. I don't know if +you care anything about me, but if you do you're the only one who does. +You've always been fair and decent to me, anyway, I--I'd loved you--if +you'd let me." + +"Damn it, Kit," her brother replied, "why didn't you say something like +that before? I've been fond of you ever since you were a baby, but you +never let me see you thought anything more of me than the other +boys--and that was mighty little. Well--what you say is true. I'm a +rotten bad lot, but all the same I'm just about as sick of the show as +you are. And I'll tell you this much: If I can get clear now I'll make a +fresh start--I've been thinking of the Argentine--and if you'll go with +me, I'd like it." + +"I'll go," she promised. "But suppose you don't get clear?" + +The big man shrugged his shoulders. "Then I lose out. I'm not going to +rot in the pen. You can say a little prayer if you feel like it." + +She stared at him, somber-eyed. "I suppose that's the best way, after +all." + +"The only way. And now I must rustle an outfit." + +"I'll be down in a minute," she said. + +She came down to the apparent confusion of their preparations. Each had +drawn on his personal outfit. Gerald and Larry nodded to her. She said +little, made no reproaches, helping them silently, swiftly. Suddenly +Larry paused, throwing up his head, lifting his hand. Upon the sudden +silence burst the sound of swift hoofs. The brothers looked at each +other. + +"Go upstairs, Kit," said Gavin, "and stay there." + +But in a moment it was evident that there was but one horse. The door +was tried, shaken. A furious oath came from outside. + +"It's just Blake," said Larry, and unfastened the door. + +Blake stared at his brothers, at their weapons, at the outfit piled in +the room. + +"What's this?" he asked. + +"You may as well know," said Gerald and told him. "And you keep your +mouth shut," he concluded. + +Blake laughed with a certain relief. "I've got to make a get-away +myself. I'm going with you. I shot up Angus Mackay." + +"You shot Angus!" Kathleen cried. Her face went white, and she clutched +the back of a chair. "Do you mean that he is dead?" + +"No," Blake replied. He had learned that much from Garland, who had +decided that it would be safer for him to part company and had done so. +"He'll get over it, I guess." + +"What started it?" Larry asked. + +"He came for me and I downed him," Blake replied sullenly. "Never mind +what started it." + +"You're lying!" Kathleen told him fiercely. "I know you, Blake. You'd +never have faced him if he had had a gun. You shot him in the back, or +unarmed." + +But Gavin interposed. + +"If you're coming with us, get a move on. Rustle your own outfit." + +They gave Blake scant time. Immediately Larry began to pack two ponies. +If necessary these could be abandoned, but meanwhile they would save the +saddle horses. In a few minutes they were packed. All but Gavin mounted. +In the hall he took Kathleen in his great arms and kissed her. + +"Good-by, Kit. No telling how this will come out. Remember what I told +you." + +"I'll remember," she said. "Good-by, Gan--and good luck." + +He released her and swung into the saddle. In a moment they had vanished +in the darkness, heading north for the pass which led into the +wilderness of the hills--outlaws. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +TAKING THE TRAIL + + +Kathleen returned to her room and dressed herself fully. It was only a +matter of time until pursuit would be organized, would arrive, and she +would be questioned. She would tell nothing. Her brothers should have +their fighting chance. + +Already her mind, recovering from the shock of the unexpected, was busy +with the future. A sister of outlaws! Well, she would go away, adopt +some other name, and wait till she heard from Gavin. + +With a swift pang of pain she thought of Angus Mackay. How badly was he +hurt? With daylight she would see, she would offer to do what she could. +Of course Faith and Jean would shrink from Blake's sister. She could not +help that. She would take her medicine. There would be much bitter +medicine to take. + +She went downstairs and began to put away things that her brothers had +at first selected and then discarded. It would not be long, now, till +something happened. She picked up a coat of Larry's, turned with it in +her hand, and saw Angus Mackay. + +She had heard no sound. Yet he stood in the doorway. His head was +bandaged. A six-shooter in his hand advertised his purpose. + +"Angus!" she cried. He raised his hand in a warning gesture. + +"Don't make a noise! I didn't expect to see you. I'm sorry. I'll go +away." + +"You are looking for Blake!" + +He nodded silently. + +"He isn't here, Angus. He has gone. I want to know what happened." + +"It will not be pleasant for you to hear." + +"I must know." + +As he told her, her face grew white with anger. + +"I knew he was a brute--a cur!" she said. "But this is too much." + +"Yes, it is too much," he agreed gravely. "I am sorry, because he is +your brother, but it has come to a finish between Blake and me." + +"I understand," she said with equal gravity. "I do not feel that he is +my brother. But they have all gone together, and I may as well tell you +why." + +He listened, frowning. He did not care about Braden, to whom he +attributed the attempt of Blake and Garland to recover Faith's deeds. +But if Blake had gone with the other boys it meant that they would all +stand together. It was feud, then, at last, unavoidable. But his purpose +was unchanged. + +"They don't know," Kathleen said, "that Blake laid hands on Faith. If +they had known, they would not help him. They are bad enough but at +least they are men." + +He nodded silently. There was no doubt of that. Kathleen raised her +head, listening. He became aware of a distant sound. + +"That is--the law," she said. "Perhaps you would rather not be seen +here--with me." + +"I am glad to be here. I will see them. You shouldn't be alone. If you +will go to Faith in the morning, and say that I asked you to stay with +her--" + +"No, no!" she cried. "It is kind of you. You are a good man, Angus. But +I can't do that." + +"You would be welcome." + +"Still I cannot do it." + +But the hoof-beats swelled in volume and clattered to a halt in front of +the house. Angus went to the front door and opened it. He found himself +confronted by a long, lean, grizzled gentleman who held a gun of +orthodox proportions in readiness for action. But as he recognized Angus +he lowered it with a grunt of surprise. + +"Didn't expect to see _you_! Any of the French boys in the house?" + +"They've pulled out. Their sister is alone." + +The grizzled gentleman grunted again. His name was Bush, and he was the +sheriff's deputy. As the sheriff was old and carried much weight for +age, the rough jobs fell to Jake Bush, who did them well. He possessed +much experience, a craw full of sand, and a thorough understanding of a +gun. Behind him, with horses, Angus saw men he knew--Bustede, Drury, +Fanning, McClintock--all men of the hills and of their hands. + +"Yeh, I figgered them boys would pull out ahead of me," Bush admitted +placidly. "And of course they'll p'int out north for the hills, where +they ain't no wires. They know the country darn well, too. So I called +in at your ranch and rousted out Dave. He's a wise old ram in them +hills. Your brother wanted to come, and he bein' a useful kid I swore +him in, too. I wanted you, but when I found out where you was I sent +Dave and the kid after you, and come right along here. But I had a hunch +it'd be too late. Still, it's a s'prise to see you." + +"And you want to know why I'm here?" + +"Well--yes. It might have some bearin' on the case." + +Angus told him why, and Bush's eyebrows drew together. + +"Now I'm free to say that for a low-down skunk this here Blake French +is some pumpkins. I sure thought he was with his brothers, but this +gives him a alibi, I s'pose. And I s'pose, also, you're out to git him. +Is that right?" + +"That's right." + +"I don't say he don't need killin'," said the deputy. "But the darn +law--nowadays--sorter discourages these here private executions. And I'm +an officer of the law." + +"You and the law, Jake," Angus said deliberately, "can both go to hell!" + +"Now don't be so darn hair-trigger!" the deputy protested. "Here's the +proposition: You've give me information which justifies me in arrestin' +him for murderous assault on your wife, and shootin' you with intent to +kill. His brothers is wanted for robbery and murder, and they're all +stringin' their chips together. I figger they'll resist arrest, and I +don't believe in allowin' my officers to be shot up. So if you was sworn +in, and was to kill Blake resistin' arrest, it would be all reg'lar. +Savvy?" + +"But suppose he doesn't resist arrest?" + +"Never cross a bridge till you come to it," said Bush wisely. "You got +to come along with us to find him, anyhow. So I'll swear you in and +we'll hope for the best." + +Bush's questioning of Kathleen was perfunctory. He grinned at her +refusal to give information. "I wouldn't think much of you if you did," +he admitted, and went on a tour of investigation, from which he drew +some very accurate deductions. + +Turkey and Rennie arrived, and for the first time Angus heard of +Braden's dying declaration that Gavin French was responsible for the +killing of Adam Mackay. But beyond the bare statement there were no +details. Braden's end had come before he had been able to amplify it. + +"Do you suppose it's so?" Turkey queried. "Or was he just trying to hang +something on Gavin?" + +Angus did not know. There were times, in the years, when he had been +puzzled by Gavin's peculiar regard for him. There had always been +something in the big man's eyes which he could not read, something +veiled, inscrutable. He alone of the brothers had been reluctant to take +up their father's quarrel with Angus. This might be the reason. + +"If he killed father," said Turkey grimly, "he's got it coming to him. +You take Blake, and I'll take him." + +"There is nothing to go on but what Braden said," Angus pointed out. But +he thought of his father's dying words. His father had not wished to lay +a feud upon him. It fitted. + +At dawn, acting on Bush's theory, they headed north for the pass. When +they struck it there were fresh footprints, many of them, heading into +the hills. + +"That's them," said Bush. "Hey, Dave?" + +"Sure," said Rennie. "It ain't Injuns. These horses is shod." + +A mountain pass is not a road. It merely represents the only practicable +way of winning through the jumbled world of hills. Railway construction +in the mountains follows the pass, but persons who admire scenery from +vestibuled coaches know nothing of the old pass of the pack-trail, the +binding brush, the fallen timber, the slides, the swift creeks, the +gulches, the precipices to which the trail must cling. + +The trail itself--the original trail--is invariably the line of least +resistance. It proceeds on the theory that it is easier to go around +than through or over. If traveling on the other side of a creek is +easier it crosses. When conditions are reversed, it comes back. It +wanders with apparent aimlessness, but eventually gets there, at the +cost of time, but without much work. To natural obstacles the wild +animals and the equally wild men who first trod the passes opposed +patience and time, of which they had great store. Later the pioneer +brought the ax. He slashed out the brush, so that he and his might get +by without trouble; but he followed the windings of the trail. + +The pass upon which the pursuit entered was a good trail. It led +gradually and almost imperceptibly upward, following the general course +of a creek. The hills sloped back on either hand. Into them led wide +draws, timbered, little valleys in themselves. But this pass was merely +a vestibule. It reached the summit of the first range of hills, and +there was a way down the other side. The trail had been cut out. But +beyond were hundreds of square miles of mountains in which what few +trails there were had never known an ax. + +In the afternoon they reached the summit of the first divide. It was +comparatively low, and timbered. There was a lake, scarcely more than a +pond. There the fugitives had halted. + +Rennie and Bush nosed among the signs like old hounds, not looking for +anything in particular, but because they could not help it. + +"I sh'd say they got two pack ponies," Bush decided. "There's the four +French boys, and maybe Garland." + +"Garland ain't with 'em," Rennie returned with conviction. "He's too +darn wise. He knows Angus would go after Blake, or if he didn't me or +Turkey would. So he'd quit Blake right away and pull out by himself. +I'd bet money on it." + +"Not with me," Bush grinned. "I guess you're right." + +They were standing by the little lake, and Rennie pointed to a moccasin +track that lay in the soft ground. The foot that made it was shapely, +rather small, and straight along the inner line. The toes were spread +widely, naturally. + +"That's funny," said Rennie. + +"Why?" Bush asked. "It's some Injun. He jumped from there onto that log. +I s'pose he wanted water without wettin' his feet." + +"What's an Injun doin' here?" + +"What's an Injun doin' any place?" Bush countered with the scorn of the +old-timer. "S'pose you loosen up some. You know as much about Injuns as +I do." + +"Well, we ain't met this Injun," said Rennie, "so he's travelin' the +same way we are. Maybe he's just one of a bunch that's in here huntin'. +But I was tellin' you about how old Paul Sam come to Angus' wife's place +last night. He was lookin' for Blake. 'Course you heard what was said +about Blake and his granddaughter. I just wondered." + +Bush removed his hat and scratched his head. + +"By gosh, I wonder!" he observed. "He's mighty old, but it might be. He +ain't no fish-eatin' flat-face Siwash. He's a horse Injun--one of the +old stock. But he is darn old." + +"He thought a heap of the girl," said Rennie. "He sent her to school. He +was goin' to make her all same white girl." + +"Uh-huh!" Bush growled. "A lot of darn fools think they can do tricks +like that. But she's a job for the Almighty. Well, if this is the old +buck, he couldn't go on a better last war-trail, and I wish him a heap +of luck. Now let's get goin'." + +Night found them at the foot of the range they had crossed. They were +now in the valley of the Klimminchuck, a fast stream of the proportions +of a river, fed by tributary creeks. Across it rose mountains, range on +range, nameless, cut by valleys, pockets, basins and creeks. Their area +resembled a tumbled sea. It was a mountain wilderness, little known, +unmapped, much as it came from the hands of the Creator. + +And yet in this wilderness there were trails. Up tributary creeks +hunters had made them for short distances, but they soon petered out. +Beyond, into the heart of the hills, were other faintly marked routes, +scarcely trails but ways of traverse, by which at various and widely +separated times man had penetrated into these solitudes and even crossed +them entirely. + +All the men knew something of this mountain area, but Rennie's knowledge +was the most extensive. His was the restlessness, the desire to see +something of what lay beyond, of the pioneer. He had made long +incursions, alone. Bush leaned on this knowledge. Around the fire that +night, pipes alight, they held council. + +"They've turned up river," said Bush. "If they keep on for the head +waters they get into mighty bad country, hey, Dave?" + +"Mighty bad," Rennie agreed. "They couldn't get no place." + +"And they ain't outfitted to winter. Do they know she's bad up there?" + +"Sure they know. Anyhow, Gavin does. My tumtum is they'll ford above +here and try for a clean get-away, maybe up Copper Creek, right across +the mountains." + +"Can they make it?" + +"They might. Depends on what they know of the country, and what luck +they have." + +"With horses?" + +"Well, they might." + +"How far have you ever gone yourself?" + +"I been up to where the Copper heads and over the divide and on a +piece." + +"Good travelin'?" + +"No, darn mean." + +"Trail?" + +"Only a liar would call it a trail. Still, you can get along if you're +careful." + +"Could they have gone farther?" + +"Sure." + +"Did you ever hear of anybody gettin' plum' through, say to Cache River, +that way?" + +"I've heard of it--yes. Old Pete Jodoin claimed he made her. And one +time I run onto an old Stoney buck and he told me how, long ago, his +people used to come down huntin' onto this here Klimmin, but they don't +do it no more." + +"Pete Jodoin was an old liar," said Bush, "and so's any Stoney, on +gen'ral principles. But it's funny the places you can go if you know +how. Think these French boys would know enough to make a trip like +that?" + +"Gavin knows a lot about these hills," Rennie replied. "He's hunted in +'em a lot by himself. He can pack near as much as a pony, and it's darn +hard to say where he went and didn't go." + +"Well," said Bush, "I only hope we don't lose their trail." + +So far the trail had been plain, the hoof marks on it visible. But on +bad ground this would not be the case. There would be no trail, in the +sense of a path, and the trail in the sense of hoof-marks might +disappear entirely. Therefore it was important to ascertain if they +could the line of flight, so that if signs temporarily ceased there +might be a possibility of finding them again further on. + +But in the morning the trail of the fugitives led straight to the ford, +crossed it and held up the farther side. They came to the mouth of +Copper Creek, a delta with much gravel wash, but the trail of the +fugitives, in place of turning the Copper, led straight on up the valley +trail. A couple of miles on, just after crossing a patch of rocky +ground, Turkey who was in the lead pulled up and dismounted. + +"What's the matter, kid?" Bush asked. + +"Matter!" Turkey exclaimed. "Why there isn't a shod horse in this bunch +of tracks we're following." + +Investigation showed that Turkey was right. They had been riding on the +tracks of unshod horses, presumably of an Indian hunting party. And as +they had trampled on these with their own shod horses it was going to be +hard to ascertain just how far they had gone on this false trail. But +Rennie had his own idea of a short cut. + +"They made the side jump somewheres on these here rocks," he said. "They +figgered we'd go hellin' along on the tracks of them barefoots. Now this +bad ground is the end of that there shoulder you see, and she runs back +and dips down on the other side to the Copper." + +"Sounds reas'nable," Bush admitted, "Then we go back to the Copper." + +The two were standing together apart from the others. + +"Look over there," said Rennie, "and line up this rock with that lone +cottonwood. What do you see?" + +Bush looked along the line indicated. "By gosh," he ejaculated, "that +cottonwood's _blazed_!" + +"Blazed both sides," Rennie informed him. "I been there. And further on +there's another tree blazed. Fresh." + +"Lord--ee!" said Bush. "Them French boys wouldn't do that. You think +it's the old buck?" + +Rennie nodded. "He's wiser 'n we are; also closer to 'em. He's playin' a +lone hand, so he has to wait his chance at Blake. He figgers Angus will +be after Blake, and as he may run into bad luck himself he wants to make +sure somebody lands him. He don't know why the other boys are there, but +he knows there must be some good reason, because they're in a hurry and +tryin' to hide their trail. So on gen'ral principles he blazes that +cottonwood where he strikes their tracks where they've turned off, and +keeps goin'." + +"Uh-huh!" Bush agreed. "I guess we better not tell them Mackay boys +about the Injun. They'd be for crowdin' things, and likely mess 'em up. +They don't want nobody to get ahead of 'em. I wish I hadn't told 'em +what old Braden said. But it seemed right they should know." + +"So it is right," said Rennie. "Adam Mackay hadn't no gun. She was +murder. Only thing, I don't savvy it bein' Gavin French. Givin' the +devil his due, he's all _man_. And Braden was such a darn liar. Well, +there's many a card lost in the shuffle turns up in the deal." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +THE RED AVENGER + + +Many miles beyond the head waters of Copper Creek four men rode along +the crest of a sparsely timbered summit. Their horses were weary, +gaunted with scant, frost-burnt feed. The riders were unkempt, unshaven, +their eyes reddened by much staring into distances and the ceaseless +pour of the mountain winds. The wind was now blowing strongly. It was +very cold, and they bent against it, their hats pulled low, their +collars high. Along the summit on which they rode and even along its +flanks lay thin snow, the first of the coming winter. But above, on the +higher ranges, it lay thickly white on the peaks and in the great +gulches, promise of the twenty or thirty or forty feet of it which would +fall before Spring, as it had fallen on that high roof of the world for +ages. + +On the second day on the Copper the fugitives had discovered that they +had not shaken off pursuit. It clung to them doggedly, tenaciously. Once +through binoculars they had seen their pursuers across the width of a +mountain valley. Little figures, seven of them, had ridden across the +field of the lens focused on a barren patch of hillside. They could make +a very fair guess at the identity of some of the men. With the discovery +they had made extra speed. + +Then they had got off the trail, which was ancient, faint, overgrown. +Left to himself Gavin, who was the pilot, would likely have steered a +correct course, for he had much of that intuition which for lack of a +better term may be called sense of direction, and an eye for the +general configuration of country. But he was in a hurry and his brothers +obtruded advice. And so Gavin went astray. Half a day's travel converted +suspicion of this to certainty. The only thing to do was to angle +forward in the general direction in which the old trail might be +supposed to lie. + +It is one thing to travel following the line of least resistance; but it +is quite another to hold for any definite objective point. Immediately, +obstacles interposed. All of a sudden, as it seemed, things went wrong. +Their way was barred by swift creeks, rocks, tangled wind-falls piled +high. These had to be circumnavigated. One pack pony was drowned in a +sudden dip of what looked like a fordable stream. The other slipped, +sprained his shoulder and could not travel. They shot him, and took his +load between them. At last they regained what was presumably the old +trail. The one redeeming feature was that in their wanderings, they +might have shaken off pursuit. But the next morning, looking back, +behind and below them but on their line of travel, they saw smoke. The +pursuit had even gained. + +Now the old trail grew better, clearer, so that they did not have to +worry about that; but they did worry about the way their pursuers hung +on. Of what profit was it to traverse this sea of mountains and emerge +with these hunters at their heels? As they rode, bending against the +keen wind that swept the great ridge, this problem lay in the mind of +each. + +But Blake viewed it from an angle of his own. He had thrown in his lot +with his brothers in panic, relying on them, feeling the safety of +numbers. But the pursuit that dogged was primarily of them and not of +him. Then he had made a mistake in joining them. Garland was a wise bird +in striking off by himself. That was what he should have done. He should +have known it would be assumed that he had gone with his brothers. He +had been a fool. + +And there was another consideration. He knew very well that the boys did +not intend to be taken. If he stayed with them he would have to fight. +Angus or Turkey, or even Rennie would shoot him on sight, and in all +probability one or more of them was with the bunch behind. Obviously the +thing to do was to quit his brothers and let them draw the pursuit. But +the devil of it was he had no money. They, however, had what they had +taken from Braden. He did not know how much, but it must be a lot. They +ought to share up with him. He considered that he had a grievance +against them. + +Toward evening they came to the end of the ridge and began a long +descent into a high valley. They struck timber and shelter from the +wind, and water. There they camped. But though feed was short and +frost-burnt, they dared not let their horses range, keeping them on +ropes. + +Supper over they sat close to the fire, smoking, following their own +thoughts. Gerald regarded the blaze through half-closed eyes; Gavin, +motionless his chin in his hand stared straight ahead; but young Larry, +on one elbow, frowning, impatient, jerked cones and bits of stick at the +fire with vicious flips of the wrist. Finally he sat upright. + +"Oh, what the _hell_!" he said, in tones of nervous irritation. + +Gerald's half-veiled eyes shifted to him; Gavin turned his head. + +"Well?" the latter asked. + +"What's the use of this?" the young man demanded. "How long are we going +to be chased all over these hills? I wouldn't kick if we were making a +get-away--but we aren't. This bunch is right on our heels. What good +does it do us to keep going? Not a damned bit! Wherever we come out +they'll be right on top of us." + +"The kid's right," Gerald observed. + +"Well?" said Gavin again. + +"Why not let it come to a show-down now?" Larry asked. "Let's make a +stand. There's only seven of them, near as we can tell." He laughed +recklessly. "Whoever loses out stays in these damned hills for keeps." + +"Larry's right," said Gerald again. + +"He may be," Gavin admitted. "Make a stand, hey?" He stretched his great +arms slowly. "Four of us, seven of them. Well, I'm game, if you are. +They're apt to have some pretty good men. Some of us are due to stay in +these hills, as Larry says." + +"Sure," Gerald agreed. "But the hills are better than the pen. We're all +in the same boat." + +"I don't know about that," Blake put in. + +"Since you mention it," said Gerald, "maybe we're not. If young Turkey +or Rennie is with that bunch they're out to get you." Blake shifted +uneasily, and Gerald sneered. "I'll bet a hundred they _do_ get you, +too." + +"You want the big end," said young Larry. + +"You talk about being in the same boat," said Blake. "Well, I didn't +shoot Braden, nor get any of his money. You held out on me. You thought +you could get it yourselves. You wouldn't let me in on it." + +"Well?" + +"Well, why the devil should I help you stand off that bunch, then? +They're after you, not me." + +"Has anybody asked you to?" Gerald retorted. "And nobody asked you to +come with us, if it comes to that." + +"You had the fear of God in your heart and you begged to come," Larry +told him. "You say you shot up Mackay, but you wouldn't tell why. And +now, when things are getting hot, you want to quit and sneak off by +yourself. I know what you're thinking. Quit and be damned, then! You +never were any good. You never had the sand of a white rabbit." + +Blake blustered, cursing his younger brother. The latter leaped to his +feet. But Gavin interposed. + +"Sit down, Larry. Blake, do you want to quit us? If you do, say so. +There are no strings on you." + +"If I did want to, I couldn't," Blake growled. "You know blame' well I +haven't got any money." + +Gavin eyed him in silence for a moment. + +"I'll fix the money part," he said. Reaching into his warbag he drew +forth a package of bills. He split it in half without counting, tossing +one half to Blake as he would have tossed a bone to a dog. "There you +are! Anything else?" + +"Well, I don't want--" Blake began, but Gavin cut him short. + +"You needn't lie. I've seen this in the back of your mind for days. +You'll go now, whether you want to or not! Our trails fork in the +morning, and you play your own hand. But if you try to save your hide by +helping that bunch back there, I'll kill you. And that's cold!" + +Blake could not meet the cold blue eyes that bored into his. + +"You held out on me in the first place," he said. "This is your show, +not mine." + +"You--" Larry began. + +"Shut up!" said Gavin. "Let him alone. Take what grub you want in the +morning, Blake, and go your own way. And now I'm going to sleep." + +He rolled his blanket around him and lay down. Gerald and Larry followed +his example. Blake, to show his indifference, set by the fire for a +time, smoking sullenly; but soon he too turned in. + +It was dark when he awoke, but Gavin was already cooking breakfast, +Larry and Gerald rolling blankets. He shared the meal, but nobody spoke +to him. Larry brought in three horses, but Blake had to go for his own. +Fresh snow, fallen in the night, lay on the ground, but it was merely a +skift which would go with the sun. + +The east was rose and gold when they mounted. High to the westward the +sun, as yet invisible, struck the eastern face of a great snow-wrapped +peak, playing on it dazzlingly. The cold of the high altitudes nipped; +the breath of the gaunt horses hung in steam. + +At the head of the little cavalcade Gavin led the way down a sloping +shoulder into the valley. Blake followed, uncertain what to do. When the +valley opened Gavin pulled up. + +"Here's where we break, Blake." + +"All right," he replied sullenly. "Go ahead. I'm not stopping you." + +"I said we broke here." + +"I've got to get out of these mountains, haven't I? This is the only +way." + +"You wanted to quit us," said Gavin, "and now you have to." + +"All right," Blake replied. "I'll quit you, if you want it that way." + +Without a word of farewell his brothers rode on. Blake watched them go. +Their wordless contempt had stung him, and he hated them. He hoped +sincerely that they would be caught. + +His own immediate plans were simple. He would ride a few miles off the +trail till Bush and his posse went by. Then he would make up his mind +just what to do. He might take the back trail when they had gone on. He +would see. + +He took care to leave the trail on rocky ground. The thin snow which +still lay was unfortunate, but did not greatly matter once he was off +the trail. In an hour or two it would be gone. He rode for a mile, which +for his purpose was as good as five or ten, and dismounting let his +horse feed. He found a place where the sun struck warmly, filled his +pipe and lay down, his back against a rock. + +He counted the money which Gavin had thrown him. It amounted to more +than two thousand dollars. That would help some. He was better off than +if he had stayed with his brothers. Lord, yes! He was safe as a church. + +His eyes half-closed, he enjoyed his pipe, thinking things over. He made +a mess of that Mackay business. When you came right down to it, he +should not have laid hands on Faith. But he would have had the deeds out +of her if Garland had not weakened. But for Garland there would have +been no necessity for this get-away. Garland had got him into the thing. +Damn Garland! And damn women! They were all fools. Take that klootch. +How the devil could she expect a white man to marry her? She wasn't bad +for a klootch, but as a wife--good night! + +The pipe had lost its flavor. Blake tapped it out, rose, and started +back with an involuntary cry. Just back of the rock against which he +had been leaning stood Paul Sam. + +The old Indian raised his rifle. + +"S'pose you move," he said, "you go mimaloos." Blake froze into +immobility. "You go mimaloos, anyway," the old man added; "but first me +talk to you." + +A great fear laid hold upon Blake. The old Indian's features were +impassive, but his eyes were bleak and hard. He lowered the rifle to the +level of his waist, but its muzzle still dominated. Blake's rifle leaned +against the rock, out of reach. His six-shooter was in his belt, but he +knew better than to try for it. He stood motionless, staring at the +seamed features of the Indian. + +"Me talk to you," Paul Sam repeated in soft, clucking gutterals. "Ole +man, me; young man, you. You white man; me Injun. Very ole man, me. All +the men that were young with me go mimaloos many years ago. My wife she +go mimaloos. My son and his wife they go mimaloos. Only one of my blood +is left, my son's daughter--Mary!" + +He paused for a moment. + +"There is no one else of my blood. Me raise hiyu kuitan, hiyu moos-moos, +all for her when me die. One time this country all Injun. Pretty soon no +more Injun. All white. Injun way no good now. All white man's way. So me +send her to school to learn the white man's way. + +"She come back to my house. When me look at her me think of many things, +of many people who go mimaloos many years ago. It is good for an ole man +to have the young of his blood in his house, for in them his youth +lives. + +"There comes a time when this girl who is the last of my blood, is sad. +No more laugh; no more sing. Me not know why. Me ole man. Mebbe-so me +blind ole fool. Me never think of--that! When she is dead--then me hear +of _you_!" + +The Indian paused. Blake spoke, moistening dry lips. + +"I hadn't anything to do with Mary." + +"You lie!" the old man returned. "You bring shame on her and on me. So +me kill you." + +There was no passion in his voice; but there was finality, judgment +inexorable. It was the logical conclusion, worked out, demonstrated +according to his rules. + +Blake's face blanched. In fancy, as he stared at it, he could see the +red stab of flame leap and feel the shock of lead. Was there no way of +escape? He glanced around. There was nothing save the mountain +wilderness, the serene heights of the peaks, the blue autumn sky, a +soaring golden eagle. His eyes came back to the rifle muzzle. His mouth +opened, but words would not come. + +"Mebbe-so you like pray?" Paul Sam suggested calmly. Blake found his +voice. + +"I have money," he said. "Look! lots of money. Take it. For God's sake, +don't kill me. I didn't mean--I didn't know--" + +For the first time a glint of bitter anger leaped into the old man's +eyes. + +"Money!" he said. "You think I take money for a dead woman of my blood +and for my shame. Now me kill you all same wolf!" + +The rifle rose, steadied, pointed at Blake's heart. The old finger +crooked on the trigger. The hammer fell with a click. For some +reason--worn firing pin, weak spring, or defective cartridge--the weapon +failed to explode. + +Paul Sam's hand jerked down with the lever to throw another shell into +place. But Blake in that instant of reprieve took his chance. With a +leap he hurled himself forward and caught the barrel, throwing it aside, +feeling the flame of the explosion heat the metal beneath his fingers. +The report smashed out in the stillness of the valley, racketing and +rolling against the hills. + +Blake wrenched the rifle from the old man's hands and threw it far. His +fear was gone, his face contorted with passion. He reached for his +revolver. As he did so Paul Sam drew a nine-inch knife from its beaded +scabbard and struck as a snake strikes. + +With a screaming oath Blake shoved the muzzle of the six-shooter against +him and pulled the trigger. The blunt report was muffled by the body. +But again the knife, now red to the hilt, rose and fell, and again the +gun barked like a kenneled dog. And then Blake reeled backward, his eyes +wide, the gun escaping from his hand, and fell on his back horribly +asprawl. With him fell Paul Sam. But the old Indian's fingers were +locked around the haft of the knife, and the haft stood out of Blake's +breast. And so they lay together as the rolling echoes died and the +stillness of the great hills came again. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +THE GREAT SHOW-DOWN + + +Down the slope from the wind-swept summit into the valley rode the posse +of Jake Bush. Their horses, too, were gaunted with scant feed and hard +work. Like the men who had preceded them these were unkempt, strained of +eye. Rennie rode in the lead, his eyes on the trail. The eyes of the +others prodded and tested the valley into which they were descending. + +By various signs they knew they were closing the gap which separated +them from their quarry. When they reached the abandoned camp they +dismounted and Rennie and Bush tested the ashes. + +"Warm where they ain't wet," said Bush. "This is the earliest we've ever +struck their camp yet. They made slow time yesterday. Can't be many +hours ahead." + +"Looks to me like their horses is playin' out," Rennie agreed. "Well, +let's get goin'." + +They rode on down the valley. The trail was plain, and the tracks of +horses in the vanishing light snow. They strung along at a steady jog. + +From the left, clean and sharp came the vibrant crash of a rifle shot. +Instantly the hills took it up, flinging it in echoes back and forth. +But with the echoes came other shots, not clear but blunt, muffled, +multiplying the riot of sound. They jerked their horses to a standstill. + +"Not more 'n a mile away," said Rennie. "Them boys is further ahead. It +can't be them." + +"We'll darn soon see," said Bush. + +They turned in the direction of the shots, spreading out riding slowly. +And presently they came upon a pony standing with dropped reins. + +"Why," Turkey exclaimed, "it's Paul Sam's! I'd know that cayuse +anywhere." + +There was no mistaking the calico pony. Angus, too recognized it. If +Paul Sam were there it could be but for one purpose. + +"Ride slow," Bush advised. "We don't want to overlook anything." + +But in less than five hundred yards they came upon tragedy. Paul Sam and +Blake lay as they had fallen. In the background a gaunt horse raised his +head for a moment from his browsing. + +They dismounted, ringing the prostrate figures around. Bush removed his +hat, not out of respect for the dead, but to scratch his head. + +"Gosh!" he observed inadequately. Rennie loosened the old fingers from +the knife haft and made a swift examination. He picked up a rifle +cartridge, unexploded, with the cap faintly dinted. + +"Missed fire!" he said. "Then Blake took the gun away from him and went +for his six-shooter and the old man went for his knife. Lord!" + +Angus said nothing. He felt he had been defrauded, hardly used. By day +and by night one vision had haunted him--Faith's soft throat, bruised +and discolored. Just so he had made up his mind to kill Blake, with his +hands, repaying him measure for measure. His disappointment was bitter. + +"The old man beat you to it," said Rennie, "but I guess he had the right +to, if he could." + +Angus nodded. It was true enough. But Turkey was picking up the +scattered money which Blake had let fall. It opened a field for +speculation. No doubt this was some of Braden's money, and the brothers +had divided with Blake. But why had Blake quit them? Bush made a shrewd +guess. + +"Blake wasn't no game bird," he said. "He'd quit any time rather than go +to a show-down. Mabbe that was what he was tryin' to do." + +"And bumped into one," said Rennie. "But I wonder! We're gettin' close, +and it ain't so far to the Cache now. It wouldn't do 'em no good to get +there with us right behind. They might make a stand and take a chance." + +"Or bushwhack us," the deputy suggested. "Us ridin' along single file in +some bad place and them shootin' from cover--hell! we'd be down and +kickin' before we could draw a gun." + +"That's so," Rennie replied thoughtfully. "We'd better go careful. Well, +I s'pose we better try to bury these dead folks while we're here." + +"The Injun, anyway," said Bush. "Give him the best of it." + +They did the best they could, and built above with stones. Then they +went back and took up the pursuit, holding on till darkness hid the +trail. By daylight they were away, and even earlier than before they +came upon the deserted camp. + +And now the old trail began to ascend. It led into a country wild and +rugged, the jagged vertebrae of a mountain range seamed and scarred with +gulch and canon. It was very bad for horses and very hard work for +everybody. But signs showed that they were very near their quarry. + +"We're darn near on top of 'em," said Rennie, and thereafter he rode +with gun in hand. + +But it was late in the afternoon when they got their first glimpse of +the fugitives, who were rounding a bare shoulder ahead and above them. +Two were riding and one was leading his horse. They themselves were not +seen for a growth of brush at that point of the trail intervened. They +looked to Bush for instructions. + +"There ain't much sun left and they'll be goin' into camp soon," the +deputy said. "We'll leave the horses here with one man, and the rest of +us go ahead. While they're makin' camp we'll stand 'em up. What say, +Dave?" + +"Who stays with the horses?" + +"Turkey," Bush decided. "He's the youngest." + +"I'm damned if I do," Turkey rebelled. "Stay yourself. You're the +oldest." + +Bush grinned. "Can't, sonny, though I'd love to." He drew a dilapidated +pack of cards from his pocket and spread them fanwise. "Draw one. Low +stays. Deuce is low." + +Drury drew low, cursed his luck. McClintock on one knee lacing a +shoepack grinned at him. + +"I wisht you'd sponge off my cayuse's back, Joe. He's gettin' sore. +While you're about it, with nothin' else to do, you might go over the +whole lot." + +Drury's retort put his first outburst in the shade. Laughter stirred him +to fresh efforts. + +"Now, boys!" said Bush. + +He took the lead, Rennie behind him, then Angus. + +Angus was glad to be out of the saddle, and glad, too, that the end of +the chase was at hand. With the death of Blake much of his interest in +it had vanished. There was still Gavin, who if Braden's dying +declaration was to be believed had killed his father. But strangely +enough he felt little or no enmity toward him. He thought he should +feel more. Turkey, behind him, spoke. + +"I guess this is the finish of that bunch. If they start anything, we +want to get Gavin--if he killed father." + +Angus was silent for a moment. There was the possibility that it would +not be a one-sided affair. He was not troubled for himself, but Turkey +was rash. + +"Don't take any chances, kid, if there is trouble." + +"Not a chance," Turkey replied cheerfully. "Anybody that beats me to the +trigger will have to go some." + +"That wasn't what I meant. Look after yourself. Don't get hurt." + +"Are you trying to tell me to play it safe?" Turkey demanded with +virtuous indignation. "Why I ought to report you to Bush. Look after +yourself. You're married. Play it safe! Huh! You bet I will--with a fast +gun." + +But the sun was going down. Unless the fugitives suspected something +they would soon be making camp. Now and then Bush stopped to listen. +None now spoke above a whisper. It was like the last hundred yards of a +long, hard stalk of big game. In this case the game was big enough, and +dangerous. Mistakes could not be afforded. + +Bush stopped suddenly. Distinct in the stillness came the quick +"lick-lock" of an ax. The deputy nodded. + +They came upon the camp. It was on a little flat at the mouth of a wild +draw, a little glade fringed with brush, through which ran a trickle of +a spring creek. At one side the horses, unsaddled, grazed. Gavin, at the +other side, was dragging in a dry pole for firewood. Gerald knelt beside +a freshly kindled fire. Larry was getting food from a sack. + +It was Larry who saw them almost at the instant they saw him. He cried a +warning. Gerald rose swiftly. Gavin dropped his pole. Bush stepped +forward and held up his hand. + +"I want you boys," he said. + +"You can't have us," Gerald replied. "That's cold, Bush." + +"Don't be foolish," Bush advised. "I want you, and I'm going to get you. +And that's cold, too." + +"Then fly at it!" Gerald cried, and with the words jerked his gun and +fired. + +Bush staggered, twisted and went down; but he drew his gun as he did so +and began to shoot from the ground. The lonely mountain camp became an +inferno of shattering, rolling sound. + +Angus felt his hat lift as in a sudden squall. At the same moment Turkey +spun half around and against him, destroying his aim. + +"I'm all right!" the youngster gasped, and in proof of his assertion +fired. + +Bustede, his right arm hanging, had dropped his rifle and was struggling +to draw his six-shooter with his left hand. McClintock, on one knee, was +working the lever of his rifle like a saw. Rennie, a gun in either hand, +unhooked them in a rattling roar. + +Suddenly Gerald pitched forward on his face. Larry doubled up and went +down. But Gavin was apparently unhurt. He saw his brothers fall. For an +instant he stood looking at them. Then he turned and bounded for the +sheltering brush. With the rush of a bull moose he crashed into it while +a sleet of lead cut twigs around him, and disappeared. + +"Git him!" Bush croaked from the ground. "Git him, somebody. Oh, sink my +soul for all rotten shootin'! Six guns-and he makes the timber! Agh-r!" + +Angus stooped for an instant over Turkey. The youngster, very white of +face, was sitting on the ground; but he was outcursing Bush. + +"Are you hurt much? Where?" + +"Not much. My shoulder. Get him, damn him! Get him for father!" + +Angus found Rennie running beside him. It was impossible to trail the +fugitive. All they could do was to keep on up the draw and trust to +luck. But the pace and the rough ground soon told on Rennie. + +"I can't travel no more," he gasped. "Too old. You go ahead." + +"Go back and help the boys," Angus said. "There's a moon to-night and I +may not be back. If I don't find him I'll come in in the morning." + +"Be darn sure you do come in. Don't take no chances." + +Angus ran on up the draw. Now that he was alone he began to put forth +his strength and speed while the light should last. He was sure that +Gavin would make for the higher ground. He would cross the summit of +that range, and go ahead for the Cache. Though he had neither food nor +outfit he had his six-shooter and presumably ammunition and matches. +Angus knew that he himself would suffer little more than inconvenience +if he were in Gavin's place. + +The draw narrowed, and steep hills closed in on either hand. He turned +to the right and began to climb. Darkness overtook him and he stopped. +The cold chilled his sweating body with the cessation of motion, but +Gavin was as badly off. When the moon rose he went on again, but it was +slow work. Objects were distorted. Shadows lay where he would have had +light. Once he slipped and fell, slithering twenty feet and barely +saving himself from an almost perpendicular drop of a hundred. He +crawled back with difficulty, but his rifle was gone. He had heard it +clang far below him. However, he had his belt gun, and so was on a par +with Gavin. + +His objective was what seemed to be a notch in the summit. It was what +he would make for were he in Gavin's place. He toiled upward +methodically, without hurry now, for there might be a long trail ahead. +If Gavin could go to the Cache so could he. The timber began to thin +out, to stunt. Trees were dwarfed, twisted by the mountain winds, mere +miniatures. Presently they ceased altogether. He was above timberline. + +There the thin snow partially covered the ground, increasing the +difficulty of travel. But its actinic qualities gave more light. It was +past midnight, and the moon was well up. He had been traveling for more +than seven hours. + +For a moment he paused to rest, his lungs feeding greedily on the thin, +cold air, and surveyed the scene below. It was a black fur of tree-tops, +rolling, undulating, cleft with lines of greater darkness indicating +greater depths. He could look over the tops of lesser mountains. Above +were the peaks of the range, whitened spires against the sky. + +In those far heights of the mountain wilderness one seemed to touch the +rim of space itself. The moon, the night, the height produced an effect +of unspeakable vastness. It seemed to press in, to enfold the tiny atom +crawling upon and clinging to the surface of the earth. There finite and +infinite made contact. It was like the world's end, the _Ultima Thule_ +of ancient man. + +Some such thoughts, vague, scarcely formed, passed through his mind. +The ranch, ploughed land, houses, seemed to belong to another world. + +Once more he began to climb, and now that he was close to the summit the +going was easier. Suddenly he stopped. There, clear in the moonlight, +was the track of a moccasin-clad foot. + +There was no doubt that it was Gavin's. Knowing his own pace Angus knew +that the big man could not be far ahead. No doubt he would keep going, +over the summit and down the other side, for timber. Once in the timber, +with a fire, he would rest. His trail across would be covered by the +first wind. He would not suspect that any one would or could follow him +by night. + +Angus followed the trail easily by the bright moonlight, noting grimly +that the length of the stride was almost identical with his own. The +prints were clean, showing that the feet had been cleanly lifted and set +down, token of energy unimpaired. + +When he reached the summit he took a careful survey. It was a desolate +plateau, swept and scoured by the winds and rains and snow of unnumbered +centuries. On it nothing grew. Here and there bowlders loomed blackly. +But nothing moved. Apparently, it was as bare of life as the dead +mountains of the moon. The trail led straight on. + +Satisfied of this, Angus followed the trail at speed. Now and then it +turned out to avoid a bowlder, but otherwise it went straight ahead, as +though no doubt of direction existed in its maker's mind. Presently it +swung around a huge rock and then turned north. Angus glanced casually +at the bowlder and passed by; but he had taken no more than three +strides in the new direction when a voice behind him commanded: + +"Stop! Put up your hands!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +STRONG MEN + + +The tone forbade disobedience or delay. Angus turned to face a gun in +the hands of Gavin French. The latter peered at him for a moment and +laughed shortly. + +"I thought it was you," he said. "Nobody else could have made as good +time. You're a good guesser, too. Well--unbuckle your belt with your +left hand and let it drop. Keep your right hand up. That's it. Now step +away from it." + +Having no option Angus obeyed, cursing himself internally for being +fooled by the old trick of doubling back. Gavin lowered his gun. + +"You can take 'em down," he said. "Now what's the next play?" + +"That's up to you," Angus told him. + +"Does look like it," the big man admitted. "But you know damned well I +can't shoot you in cold blood. If I roped you up here and left you, you +might not be found. I can't take you with me. So it's partly up to you. +This is hell's own rotten mess from start to finish. I knew it would be, +from the time Jerry lost his head and plugged Braden. I suppose he's +dead?" + +"Yes." + +"And Jerry and Larry, too?" + +"I think so. I didn't wait to make sure." + +"Sure to be," Gavin said calmly. "Jerry came ahead on his face and Larry +wilted in a bunch. They got it, all right. I had a fool's luck. Any of +your bunch get it hard?" + +"I don't think so. We were lucky." + +"You sure were. We were going to hold you up to-morrow, if we found a +good place, but you got the jump on us. You were closer than we thought. +So it seems I'm the only one left, bar Blake, and I don't count him. He +quit us yesterday to save his skin. Maybe he was wise, at that." + +"Blake is dead." + +The big man exclaimed in astonishment. "Dead! How?" + +Angus told him. Also he told why he himself had hunted Blake. Gavin +French uttered a deep malediction. + +"If I had known this," he said, "he would never have come with us. I +think I would have handled him myself. But I don't suppose you believe +that." + +"Yes," Angus returned. "You are a man, and he never was." + +Gavin French eyed him for a moment. "I guess you're right--about him, +anyway," he said. "He got what was coming to him. Well, that leaves +me--and Kathleen." He shook his head moodily. "I tell you straight, +Mackay, that I'm not going to be taken. I've stood you up, but I don't +know what I'm going to do with you. If you'll give me your word to go +back to your bunch and give me that much start, you may pick up your gun +and go." + +"Will you answer me one question straight?" Angus asked. + +"Anything you like," the big man promised. "It won't make much +difference now." + +"Gavin French, did you kill my father?" + +The big man started violently. "Did I--What makes you ask that?" + +"You promised me a straight answer. But Braden said so--before he died." + +Gavin French did not reply immediately. "Braden was a rotten liar all +his life," he said at last. "But I promised you a straight answer, and I +keep my word. Yes, I killed your father--at least, I suppose that's what +it comes to." + +Angus drew a long breath. Its hissing intake was clear in the silence. + +"You suppose!" he said. "My father was not armed. Do you think I will +let you go, gun or no gun. One of us stays on this summit, Gavin +French!" + +"In your place I would say just that," Gavin admitted. "But I am going +to tell you how it happened; and then I am going to let you take up your +gun and do what you like. And just remember that if I wanted to lie I +would have done it in the first place." + +He paused a moment frowning at Angus. + +"The day your father was shot," he began, "I was on the range looking +for horses, and I had my rifle. In the afternoon I was riding up the +long coulee by Cat Creek when I heard a shot ahead, and in a few minutes +I came upon a steer staggering along. Then he rolled over and lay +kicking. I got off my horse and saw your brand on him, and that he had +been shot. Just then your father came tearing up the coulee. He saw me +beside the dead steer, my rifle in my hand, and naturally he thought I +had done the killing. He had no earthly use for me, and besides that he +and I had some trouble a week before over a two-year-old. So when he +rode up I knew there was going to be more trouble, and I was dead right. + +"He didn't give me much chance to explain, and he didn't get off his +horse. He damned me for a liar and a rustler, and suddenly he reached +down and grabbed the barrel of my rifle with both hands. I've often +wished I had let him take it, but by that time he was so damned mad that +I wasn't going to let him have a gun, and I was pretty hot myself. So I +hung onto it and tried to twist it out of his hands. Then his horse +started to back. I was dragged along, holding to the gun, and my hold +slipped. I swear I don't know how it happened, unless my slipping hand +lifted the hammer, but anyway the rifle went off. + +"He let go then, and his horse bolted. I didn't know he was badly hurt, +because he was riding all right. In fact I wasn't sure he was hit at +all. That was the last I saw of him. My own horse was frightened by the +shot and it took me some time to catch him. I rode two or three miles +looking for your father, but I was afraid that would lead to more +trouble, because I thought the first thing he would do would be to +organize himself with a gun. So I went home and kept my mouth shut. The +next day I heard he was dead. That's all. And there's your gun. If you +feel like playing even, go to it." + +But Angus as he listened knew that Gavin French was telling the exact +truth. He could visualize the tragedy of that bygone day of his boyhood. +His father's actions, as related by Gavin, were in exact keeping with +his character. But in the end, though convinced that Gavin had fired +with intent to kill, he had died in grim silence rather than leave to +his son a heritage of hate and revenge. + +"I believe it happened as you say it did," he said. "There is nothing to +play even for." + +The big man sighed deeply. "It's not every man who would believe it," he +said; "but it's true. I know I should have come forward and told how it +was, then, but I had only my own word. If your father had told anybody +about the two-year-old and the words we had had, it would have been bad. +So I just kept quiet." + +"How did Braden know?" + +"From Tenas Pete. I believe that Siwash shot the steer himself and saw +what happened. Braden told me the Indian had told him the whole thing. +That was a year after, and Pete had broken his neck with a bad cayuse. +Braden tried to hold it over me till I put the fear of God in his heart +one night when we were alone. I wouldn't do his dirty work, and I didn't +know till too late what Blake and Jerry had done. I mean about your +ditch. Larry wasn't in that. I couldn't give my brothers away, could I? +Oh, it's a rotten mess from start to finish!" + +He stared gloomily across the moonlit spaces, frowning heavily. + +"So there's the whole thing," he said. "I've felt like telling you +before, but what was the use? From first to last my family has done you +dirt. Well, I'm the only man left, and I'll pay for the crowd. I'll be +the goat. Short of surrendering, which I won't do, I'll give you any +satisfaction you like. If you want it with a gun, all right. But we're +two big, skookum men. I don't know which of us is the better, though I +think I am. If you can best me to-night, in a fair fight without +weapons, I'll go back with you; and if I best you you go back alone. +What do you say?" + +Angus knew that Gavin meant it. The proposal was primitive in conception +and simplicity. Perhaps because of that it appealed to him strongly. + +"There are not many men who would make that offer," he said. + +"I would not make it to any other man," Gavin replied. "Does it go?" + +"No." + +The big man threw out his hands in a gesture of impatience. + +"Then what the devil does?" he demanded. "Why not? You're no more afraid +of me than I am of you. What do you want?" + +"Nothing," Angus said. "Now that I know how my father died, I have +nothing against you. Braden I care nothing about. So I am going back the +way I came. But I am glad you do not think me a coward." + +Gavin French drew a deep breath and his cold blue eyes for a moment held +a curiously soft expression. + +"Mackay," he said, "it probably sounds queer, but I have always liked +you. And I liked you better after that little fuss we had on Christmas +night, for then I knew you were strong as I am strong, and I hoped some +day, for the pure fun of it, we might see which of us was the better +man. A coward? Lord, no! I know why you are doing this. I'll bet you saw +Kathleen." + +"Yes," Angus admitted, "I saw her. She told me. But that's not--" + +"You needn't lie about it," Gavin said gruffly. "That sort of thing is +about all you would lie about. She's a good girl. I--I'm fond of her." +He hesitated over the admission. "We were a queer bunch--our family. +Stand-off. No slush. Afraid to show that we were fond of each other. +That was the way with Kit and me. If I can make this, it will be +different in the future. I'm not pulling any repentance stuff, you +savvy. What's done is done, and it can't be helped. Well, it's time I +was moving." + +"How are you fixed for matches and smoking?" + +"None too well--if you can spare either." + +Angus handed over what he had in his pockets. "I wish you luck," he +said. "I hope you make it--clean." + +"I'll make it," Gavin replied calmly, "if it's my luck, and if it isn't +I won't. It won't make any difference to anybody but Kit. If it wasn't +for her I wouldn't care--either way." + +"Don't worry about her. We will see that she wants for nothing. Her home +will be with us if she will make it there, till you are ready for her." + +"That's white of you," Gavin said with something very like emotion in +his voice; "but she'd better do as we had arranged. Tell her I'll make +it sure. And tell Faith--if you don't mind--that I said her husband was +a good man--oh, a damned good man!--every way." He was silent for a +moment. "Shake?" he said and held out his hand. + +Their grips met hard. + +"Well, so long," said Gavin. + +"So long," said Angus. + +The big man nodded and turned north. Angus turned south. In a hundred +paces he looked back. Gavin, already indistinct in the deceptive +moonlight was standing at the top of a slight rise doing likewise. He +waved his hand, turned, and the rise hid him from view. Though Angus +watched for some moments he did not reappear. He had crossed the divide. + +Then Angus, too, turned again, and realizing for the first time that the +night cold of the height had chilled him to the bone struck a brisk pace +down the southern slope; while behind him a rising wind broomed the dry +snow of the desolate summit, effacing all trace of the trespassing feet +of men. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + +PEACE + + +Angus was riding up to the French ranch. He had just parted from his +companions. Their homeward progress had been slow because of the wounded +men. Turkey and Rennie had gone on toward the home ranch, and Bush and +the other toward town. But he had turned off the trail to see Kathleen. +He hated his errand, but it was better that he should tell her than +leave it to a stranger. He would be glad to get it over and go home--to +Faith. + +As he approached the house he saw her. Apparently she had seen him +coming, for she came down to greet him. He dismounted stiffly. He felt +her eyes searching his face. + +"Well?" she queried. He shook his head. + +"I am sorry, Kathleen. It is bad news." + +"I expected it," she said quietly. "Tell me about it--all!" + +He told her the main facts, omitting details. When he had concluded she +sat motionless, her eyes on the glory of the evening sky above the +western ranges. + +"I am sorry," he said again. + +"I understand," she said. "You are sorry that it had to be. I knew what +might happen if the boys were overtaken. It was inevitable. Well, they +made their choice and took their chance, and it went against them. I +think Gavin will tell me more than you have told me--some day. Well, +this is the end of a good many things. I was merely waiting for word. +To-morrow I am going away." + +"There is no need. If you would stay with us--" + +"I am just as grateful, but it is best not." + +"It may be," he admitted. "Is there anything I can do?" + +"If you would take Finn? He's too lively for Faith, but he's a good +horse. I hate to sell him to a stranger." + +"I will buy him." + +"You will not buy him. Are you too proud to do me that kindness?" + +"No. I will take him and give him a good home all his life." + +"Thank you." + +"For taking the gift of a good horse?" + +"You know better. Finn and I were friends. He--he may miss me a little." +For the first time her voice was not quite steady. "To feel that way +about a horse!" she said scornfully. "Well, it's something to be +missed--even by a horse." + +"I shall miss you," Angus told her. Her eyes rested on him gravely for a +long moment. + +"I know what you mean," she said. "You liked me because I was a frank +sort of individual. You may think of me now and then, when there is +nothing else on your mind. But as for missing me--pshaw! Nobody will +miss me. I had no friends." + +It was brutally true. Kathleen French, highly organized, sensitive, +proud, had repelled friendships. She had hidden real loneliness under a +cloak of indifference. Apparently sufficient unto herself, others had +taken her at her own apparent valuation. Her voice was tinged with +bitterness. Angus realized vaguely a part of the truth. + +"I don't think anybody thought you wanted friends." + +"Everybody wants friends," she returned. "Often the people who want +them most have not the knack of making them. But I am not complaining. I +have always been able to take my medicine without making a very bad +face." + +"You are a clean, straight, game girl," he said. "One of these days you +will marry, and your husband will be a lucky man." + +She smiled for the first time, but her mouth twitched slightly. + +"I am game enough," she said. "I suppose that goes with the breed--like +other things. Oh, yes, I am game enough to run true under punishment. +But as for marrying--I don't think so. I was in love once--or thought I +was." + +"I didn't know about that," Angus said in surprise. "I'm sorry I said +anything." + +"No, of course you didn't know. Nobody did--not even the man in the +case. He married another girl." + +"He lost a mighty fine wife," Angus said. + +"That's nice of you. But heaven knows what sort of wife I'd have made. +The girl he married will suit him better. And now I mustn't keep you, +Angus. Faith will be waiting. I won't see either of you again. She +hasn't much cause to love me or mine, but she has never shown it by word +or look. She is real, Angus, and I hope you will be very happy, both of +you, all through life. Some day--oh, a long time hence, when the things +that are so real and hard now have been dimmed and softened by the +years--I may see you both again. Till then--good-by." + +Angus took her strong, firm hand in his, and looked into her somber +eyes. + +"Good-by," he said, "and thank you for your good wishes. Good luck to +you and to Gavin. Tell him that. And remember that anything I can do at +any time for either you or him will be done cheerfully." + +"I will remember," she said. "I wish you and Gavin had known each other +better. You would have been friends. You are both real men." + +She knew nothing of Gavin's connection with his father's death, for that +was one of several things he had not told her. Another was that he had +lied to Bush. He had said that he had found no trace of Gavin. Kathleen +stood beside him as he mounted, and when, having ridden a few hundred +yards, he turned in the saddle and glanced back she was still standing +where he had left her, motionless. + +But as the French ranch vanished from view Angus drew a long breath. It +was more than the relief from the performance of an unpleasant duty. A +chapter seemed to have closed, the old order of things ended, a new one +begun. + +Already the shadows were falling, the hills purple black against the +west. Well, he would be home as fast as a good horse could carry him. +Turkey would have told Faith, and she would be waiting for him. He shook +the big, gaunted chestnut into a fast lope. + +But at a sharp bend he met Faith, almost riding her down. + +"Why, old girl!" he cried, while Chief's hoofs slid and grooved the +trail and the reliable Doughnut side-stepped expertly. "This is fine!" + +"I couldn't wait," she said. "I have been waiting too long already. So +when Turkey came home I came to meet you." + +"We had to travel slowly. And somebody had to tell Kathleen. I thought +it was better that I should." + +"I am very sorry for her." + +"So am I. But tell me about yourself. How does it feel to be a grass +widow?" + +"I'm not going to tell you. I've been worried. I suppose I've been +silly. But Jean will tell you all about that. She was aways telling me +not to worry, cheering me up." + +"Has she made it up with Chetwood yet?" + +"Well, my goodness!" Faith exclaimed. + +"Why, they're not married, are they?" + +"No. Why, it went clean out of my mind, but this afternoon when I saw +Turkey coming, I ran down to meet him and came around the corner of the +wagon shed, and there the two of them were. And they looked as if they +had been--well, you know." + +"Kissing each other?" + +"Yes, it looked like that." + +But the ranch came in sight, its broad, fertile acres dim in the fading +light. The smell of the fresh earth of fall plowing struck the nostrils, +and a tang of wood smoke from new clearing. From the corrals came the +voices of cattle. A colt whinnied in youthful falsetto for his dam. All +sounds carried far in the hush of evening. + +"Seems odd to think this will be broken up," Angus said. "Houses and +streets on the good land; maybe a church on that knoll, a school over +yonder. I ought to be glad, because it means money. But I'm not." + +"I know," his wife nodded wisely. "I've been a wanderer and a city +dweller most of my life, but I can understand how the one spot on all +the earth may claim a man. And you'll always want a ranch, and stock, +and wide spaces, no matter how much money you have. Oh, yes, boy, I +know." + +"I guess you are right," he admitted. "I grew up that way. Well, +there's plenty of time to think it over. I can take another crop off +this." He lifted his head and sniffed the air. "Old girl," he said, "I +believe I smell grub--real grub--cooking. And I haven't had a real meal +for three days. We were sort of shy coming out, you know." + +"My heavens!" Faith cried, "Turkey said the same thing. When I left he +was telling Mrs. Foley he would marry her for a pie. Let's hurry." + +Some hours later Angus, shaven and fed, sat with Faith enjoying rest and +tobacco. It was good to lie back in a chair, to relax, to be in a house +again protected from the wind and cold, to look forward to a comfortable +bed in place of one blanket and such browse as could be scraped into a +heap as a dog scrapes leaves and rubbish to lie on. Though he could +sleep anywhere, by virtue of youth and a hard body, he appreciated +comfort. + +Earlier in the evening Jean, Chetwood and Turkey had borne them company. +But the two former had gone, followed by caustic comment from the +latter. And soon after that young gentleman had announced that Angus and +Faith were a darn sight worse, and that he was going to bed. + +Left alone, Faith spoke the thing which was in her mind. + +"I am glad," she said, "that it was not you who killed Blake." + +"I intended to kill him," he replied, "and I would if it had been my +luck to come up with him. But I think I am glad, now, that I didn't, +though he deserved it. Anyway Paul Sam had the better right." + +"The poor old Indian!" Faith said softly. + +"Oh, I don't know. If he could talk about it he would say that he +couldn't die better. And then he was a very old man." + +"But life may be sweet to the old." + +"Yes. But when a man is alone, when all of his blood and the friends of +his youth and manhood are gone, there can't be much to live for. I would +wish to die before that time comes to me." + +"Don't talk of dying." She shivered a little. But the chord of +melancholy in his being had been struck and vibrated. + +"Why not? Talking will not bring death nearer, nor stave it off. +'_Crioch onarach!_' You have no Gaelic, but it means a good finish--an +honorable end to life. And that is the main thing. What does it matter +when you die, if you die well? I would not live my last years like a +toothless, stiff, old dog, dragging his legs around the house with the +sun. I would rather go out with the taste of life sweet in my mouth." + +"We have many years before us, you and I," she said. "I think they will +be happy years, boy." + +"They will be largely what we make them. I remember my father's words +when it was near the end with him; and _he_ was a hard man. The things +worth least in life, he said, were hate and revenge; and the things +worth most in life and more in death were love, and work well done, and +a heart clean of bitterness. I did not think so then. But now I am +beginning to think he was right." + +"Yes, he was right," she said. + +Fell a long silence. At last Faith took the banjo on her knee, and +smiling at her husband began to pick the strings gently. She played at +random, snatches of melody, broken, indistinct; old airs, odd, +half-forgotten. Now and then she sang very softly. + +Angus listened in utter content. He seemed to have reached a harbor, a +sheltered haven. Toil, struggle, stress seemed far off, faint memories. +The spell of the home was upon him in full. Little things--familiar +furnishings, the backs of books, pictures--seemed like the smiling faces +of old friends. It was, he recognized, the force of contrast with his +recent experiences; but it was very pleasant. Softly the banjo talked; +and with the haunting murmur of gut and parchment came Faith's voice, +low but clear, singing to herself rather than to him. + + "'Hame, laddie, hame, an' it's hame ye'll come to me, + Hame to yer hame in yer ain countree; + Whaur th' ash, an' th' oak an' th' bonnie hazel tree + They be all a-growin' green in yer ain countree.'" + +For a moment the singing ceased, while the banjo whimpered uncertainly +as if seeking a new tune. But it steadied to the same air. + + "'If the bairn be a girl she shall wear a gowden ring; + And if it be a boy he shall fight for his king--'" + +Something in her voice, a soft, crooning note, caused Angus to stare at +the singer. Up from the throat to brow a great wave of color swept. But +her voice did not falter: + + "'With his tarpaulin hat and his coat of navy blue + He shall pace the quarter-deck as his daddy used to do!'" + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Land of Strong Men, by Arthur M. 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