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+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: 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. Chisholm
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