LONESOME LAND

BY B. M. BOWER

Author of "Chip, of the Flying U, " etc. 

With Four IllustrationsBY STANLEY L. WOOD

[Illustration: As he raced over the uneven prairie he fumbledwith the saddle string]

_Contents_

CHAPTER I. THE ARRIVAL OF VAL II. WELL-MEANT ADVICE III. A LADY IN A TEMPER IV. THE "SHIVAREE" V. COLD SPRING RANCH VI. MANLEY'S FIRE GUARD VII. VAL'S NEW DUTIES VIII. THE PRAIRIE FIRE IX. KENT TO THE RESCUE X. DESOLATION XI. VAL'S AWAKENING XII. A LESSON IN FORGIVENESS XIII. ARLINE GIVES A DANCE XIV. A WEDDING PRESENT XV. A COMPACT XVI. MANLEY'S NEW TACTICS XVII. VAL BECOMES AN AUTHORXVIII. VAL'S DISCOVERY XIX. KENT'S CONFESSION XX. A BLOTCHED BRAND XXI. VAL DECIDES XXII. A FRIEND IN NEEDXXIII. CAUGHT! XXIV. RETRIBUTION

_List of Illustrations_

As he raced over the uneven prairie he fumbled with the saddle string

He was jeered unmercifully by Fred De Garmo and his crowd

"Little woman, listen here, " he said. "You're playing hard luck, and I knowit"

To draw the red hot spur across the fresh VP did not take long

CHAPTER I

THE ARRIVAL OF VAL

In northern Montana there lies a great, lonely stretch of prairie land, gashed deep where flows the Missouri. Indeed, there are many such--big, impassive, impressive in their very loneliness, in summer given over tothe winds and the meadow larks and to the shadows fleeing always over thehilltops. Wild range cattle feed there and grow sleek and fat for the fallshipping of beef. At night the coyotes yap quaveringly and prowl abroadafter the long-eared jack rabbits, which bounce away at their hunger-drivenapproach. In winter it is not good to be there; even the beasts shrink thenfrom the bleak, level reaches, and shun the still bleaker heights. 

But men will live anywhere if by so doing there is money to be gained, andso a town snuggled up against the northern rim of the bench land, where thebleakness was softened a bit by the sheltering hills, and a willow-fringedcreek with wild rosebushes and chokecherries made a vivid green backgroundfor the meager huddle of little, unpainted buildings. 

To the passengers on the through trains which watered at the red tank nearthe creek, the place looked crudely picturesque--interesting, so long asone was not compelled to live there and could retain a perfectly impersonalviewpoint. After five or ten minutes spent hi watching curiously the onelittle street, with the long hitching poles planted firmly and frequentlydown both sides--usually within a very few steps of a saloon door--and thehorses nodding and stamping at the flies, and the loitering figuresthat appeared now and then in desultory fashion, many of them imaginedthat they understood the West and sympathized with it, and appreciated itsbigness and its freedom from conventions. 

One slim young woman had just told the thin-faced school teacher on avacation, with whom she had formed one of those evanescent travelingacquaintances, that she already knew the West, from instinct and fromManley's letters. She loved it, she said, because Manley loved it, andbecause it was to be her home, and because it was so big and so free. Out here one could think and grow and really live, she declared, withenthusiasm. Manley had lived here for three years, and his letters, shetold the thin-faced teacher, were an education in themselves. 

The teacher had already learned that the slim young woman, with theyellow-brown hair and yellow-brown eyes to match, was going to marryManley--she had forgotten his other name, though the young woman hadmentioned it--and would live on a ranch, a cattle ranch. She smiled withsomewhat wistful sympathy, and hoped the young woman would be happy; andthe young woman waved her hand, with the glove only half pulled on, towardthe shadow-dappled prairie and the willow-fringed creek, and the hillsbeyond. 

"Happy!" she echoed joyously. "Could one be anything else, in such acountry? And then--you don't know Manley, you see. It's horribly bad form, and undignified and all that, to prate of one's private affairs, but I justcan't help bubbling over. I'm not looking for heaven, and I expect to haveplenty of bumpy places in the trail--trail is anything that you travelover, out here; Manley has coached me faithfully--but I'm going to behappy. My mind is quite made up. Well, good-by--I'm so glad you happenedto be on this train, and I wish I might meet you again. Isn't it a funnylittle depot? Oh, yes--thank you! I almost forgot that umbrella, and Imight need it. Yes, I'll write to you--I should hate to drop out ofyour mind completely. Address me Mrs. Manley Fleetwood, Hope, Montana. Good-by--I wish--"

She trailed off down the aisle with eyes shining, in the wake of thegrinning porter. She hurried down the steps, glanced hastily along theplatform, up at the car window where the faded little school teacher wassmiling wearily down at her, waved her hand, threw a dainty little kiss, nodded a gay farewell, smiled vaguely at the conductor, who had beenrespectfully pleasant to her--and then she was looking at the rear platformof the receding train mechanically, not yet quite realizing why it was thather heart went heavy so suddenly. She turned then and looked about her ina surprised, inquiring fashion. Manley, it would seem, was not at hand towelcome her. She had expected his face to be the first she looked upon inthat town, but she tried not to be greatly perturbed at his absence; somany things may detain one. 

At that moment a young fellow, whose clothes emphatically proclaimed him acowboy, came diffidently up to her, tilted his hat backward an inch or so, and left it that way, thereby unconsciously giving himself an air of candorwhich should have been reassuring. 

"Fleetwood was detained. You were expecting to--you're the lady he wasexpecting, aren't you?"

She had been looking questioningly at her violin box and two trunksstanding on their ends farther down the platform, and she smiled vaguelywithout glancing at him. 

"Yes. I hope he isn't sick, or--"

"I'll take you over to the hotel, and go tell him you're here, " hevolunteered, somewhat curtly, and picked up her bag. 

"Oh, thank you. " This time her eyes grazed his face inattentively. Shefollowed him down the rough steps of planking and up an extremely dustyroad--one could scarcely call it a street--to an uninviting building withcrooked windows and a high, false front of unpainted boards. 

The young fellow opened a sagging door, let her pass into a narrow hallway, and from there into a stuffy, hopelessly conventional fifth-rate parlor, handed her the bag, and departed with another tilt of the hat which placedit at a different angle. The sentence meant for farewell she did not catch, for she was staring at a wooden-faced portrait upon an easel, the portraitof a man with a drooping mustache, and porky cheeks, and dead-looking eyes. 

"And I expected bearskin rugs, and antlers on the walls, and bigfireplaces!" she remarked aloud, and sighed. Then she turned and pulledaside a coarse curtain of dusty, machine-made lace, and looked after herguide. He was just disappearing into a saloon across the street, and shedropped the curtain precipitately, as if she were ashamed of spying. "Oh, well--I've heard all cowboys are more or less intemperate, " she excused, again aloud. 

She sat down upon an atrocious red plush chair, and wrinkled hernose spitefully at the porky-cheeked portrait. "I suppose you're theproprietor, " she accused, "or else the proprietor's son. I wish youwouldn't squint like that. If I have to stop here longer than ten minutes, I shall certainly turn you face to the wall. " Whereupon, with anothergrimace, she turned her back upon it and looked out of the window. Then shestood up impatiently, looked at her watch, and sat down again upon the redplush chair. 

"He didn't tell me whether Manley is sick, " she said suddenly, with someresentment. "He was awfully abrupt in his manner. Oh, you--" She rose, picked up an old newspaper from the marble-topped table with uncertainlegs, and spread it ungently over the portrait upon the easel. Then shewent to the window and looked out again. "I feel perfectly sure that cowboywent and got drunk immediately, " she complained, drumming pettishly uponthe glass. "And I don't suppose he told Manley at all. "

The cowboy was innocent of the charge, however, and he was doing hisenergetic best to tell Manley. He had gone straight through the saloon andinto the small room behind, where a man lay sprawled upon a bed in onecorner. He was asleep, and his clothes were wrinkled as if he had lainthere long. His head rested upon his folded arms, and he was snoringloudly. The young fellow went up and took him roughly by the shoulder. 

"Here! I thought I told you to straighten up, " he cried disgustedly. "Comealive! The train's come and gone, and your girl's waiting for you over tothe hotel. D' you hear?"

"Uh-huh!" The man opened one eye, grunted, and closed it again. 

The other yanked him half off the bed, and swore. This brought both eyesopen, glassy with whisky and sleep. He sat wobbling upon the edge of thebed, staring stupidly. 

"Can't you get anything through you?" his tormentor exclaimed. "You wantyour girl to find out you're drunk? You got the license in your pocket. You're supposed to get spliced this evening--and look at you!" He turnedand went out to the bartender. 

"Why didn't you pour that coffee into him, like I told you?" he demanded. "We've got to get him steady on his pins _somehow!_"

The bartender was sprawled half over the bar, apathetically reading thesporting news of a torn Sunday edition of an Eastern paper. He looked upfrom under his eyebrows and grunted. 

"How you going to pour coffee down a man that lays flat on his belly andwon't open his mouth?" he inquired, in an injured tone. "Sleep's all heneeds, anyway. He'll be all right by morning. "

The other snorted dissent. "He'll be all right by dark--or he'll feel awhole lot worse, " he promised grimly. "Dig up some ice. And a good jolt ofbromo, if you've got it--and a towel or two. "

The bartender wearily pushed the paper to one side, reached languidly underthe bar, and laid hold of a round blue bottle. Yawning uninterestedly, hepoured a double portion of the white crystals into a glass, half filledanother under the faucet of the water cooler, and held them out. 

"Dump that into him, then, " he advised. "It'll help some, if you get itdown. What's the sweat to get him married off to-day? Won't the girl wait?"

"I never asked her. You pound up some ice and bring it in, will you?" Thevolunteer nurse kicked open the door into the little room and went in, hastily pouring the bromo seltzer from one glass to the other to keep itfrom foaming out of all bounds. His patient was still sitting upon the edgeof the bed where he had left him, slumped forward with his head in hishands. He looked up stupidly, his eyes bloodshot and swollen of lid. 

"'S the train come in yet?" he asked thickly. "'S you, is it, Kent?"

"The train's come, and your girl is waiting for you at the hotel. Here, throw this into you--and for God's sake, brace up! You make me tired. Drinkher down quick--the foam's good for you. Here, you take the stuff in thebottom, too. Got it? Take off your coat, so I can get at you. You don'tlook much like getting married, and that's no josh. "

Fleetwood shook his head with drunken gravity, and groaned. "I ought to bekilled. Drunk to-day!" He sagged forward again, and seemed disposed to shedtears. "She'll never forgive me; she--"

Kent jerked him to his feet peremptorily. "Aw, look here! I'm tryingto sober you up. You've got to do your part--see? Here's some ice in atowel--you get it on your head. Open up your shirt, so I can bathe yourchest. Don't do any good to blubber around about it. Your girl can't hearyou, and Jim and I ain't sympathetic. Set down in this chair, where we canget at you. " He enforced his command with some vigor, and Fleetwood groanedagain. But he shed no more tears, and he grew momentarily more lucid, asthe treatment took effect. 

The tears were being shed in the stuffy little hotel parlor. The youngwoman looked often at her watch, went into the hallway, and opened theouter door several times, meditating a search of the town, and drew backalways with a timid fluttering of heart because it was all so crude andstrange, and the saloons so numerous and terrifying in their very baldsimplicity. 

She was worried about Manley, and she wished that cowboy would come outof the saloon and bring her lover to her. She had never dreamed of beingtreated in this way. No one came near her--and she had secretly expected tocause something of a flutter in this little town they called Hope. 

Surely, young girls from the East, come out to get married to theirsweethearts, weren't so numerous that they should be ignored. If there wereother people in the hotel, they did not manifest their presence, save bydisquieting noises muffled by intervening partitions. 

She grew thirsty, but she hesitated to explore the depths of this drearyabode, in fear of worse horrors than the parlor furniture, and all theplaces of refreshment which she could see from the window or the doorlooked terribly masculine and unmoral, and as if they did not know thereexisted such things as ice cream, or soda, or sherbet. 

It was after an hour of this that the tears came, which is saying a gooddeal for her courage. It seemed to her then that Manley must be dead. Whatelse could keep him so long away from her, after three years of impassionedlonging written twice a week with punctilious regularity?

He knew that she was coming. She had telegraphed from St. Paul, and hadreceived a joyful reply, lavishly expressed in seventeen words instead ofthe ten-word limit. And they were to have been married immediately upon herarrival. 

That cowboy had known she was coming; he must also have known why Manleydid not meet her, and she wished futilely that she had questioned him, instead of walking beside him without a word. He should have explained. Hewould have explained if he had not been so very anxious to get inside thatsaloon and get drunk. 

She had always heard that cowboys were chivalrous, and brave, andfascinating in their picturesque dare-deviltry, but from the lone specimenwhich she had met she could not see that they possessed any of thosequalities. If all cowboys were like that, she hoped that she would not becompelled to meet any of them. And _why_ didn't Manley come?

It was then that an inner door--a door which she had wanted to open, buthad lacked courage--squeaked upon its hinges, and an ill-kept bundle ofhair was thrust in, topping a weather-beaten face and a scrawny littlebody. Two faded, inquisitive eyes looked her over, and the woman sidled in, somewhat abashed, but too curious to remain outside. 

"Oh yes!" She seemed to be answering some inner question. "I didn't knowyou was here. " She went over and removed the newspaper from the portrait. "That breed girl of mine ain't got the least idea of how to straighten upa room, " she observed complainingly. "I guess she thinks this picture wasmade to hang things on. I'll have to round her up again and tell her a fewthings. This is my first husband. He was in politics and got beat, and sohe killed himself. He couldn't stand to have folks give him the laugh. " Shespoke with pride. "He was a real handsome man, don't you think? You mightatook off the paper; it didn't belong there, and he does brighten up theroom. A good picture is real company, seems to me. When my old man gets onthe rampage till I can't stand it no longer, I come in here and set, andlook at Walt. 'T ain't every man that's got nerve to kill himself--with ashotgun. It was turrible! He took and tied a string to the trigger--"

"Oh, please!"

The landlady stopped short and stared at her. "What? Oh, I won't go intodetails--it was awful messy, and that's a fact. I didn't git over it for acouple of months. He coulda killed himself with a six-shooter; it's alwaysbeen a mystery why he dug up that old shotgun, but he did. I always thoughthe wanted to show his nerve. " She sighed, and drew her fingers across hereyes. "I don't s'pose I ever will git over it, " she added complacently. "Itwas a turrible shock. "

"Do you know, " the girl began desperately, "if Mr. Manley Fleetwood is intown? I expected him to meet me at the train. "

"Oh! I kinda _thought_ you was Man Fleetwood's girl. My name's Hawley. Yougoing to be married to-night, ain't you?"

"I--I haven't seen Mr. Fleetwood yet, " hesitated the girl, and her eyesfilled again with tears. "I'm afraid something may have happened to him. He--"

Mrs. Hawley glimpsed the tears, and instantly became motherly in hermanner. She even went up and patted the girl on the shoulder. 

"There, now, don't you worry none. Man's all right; I seen him at dinnertime. He was--" She stopped short, looked keenly at the delicate face, and at the yellow-brown eyes which gazed back at her, innocent of evil, trusting, wistful. "He spoke about your coming, and said he'd want the useof the parlor this evening, for the wedding. I had an idea you was comingon the six-twenty train. Maybe he thought so, too. I never heard you comein--I was busy frying doughnuts in the kitchen--and I just happened to comein here after something. You'd oughta rapped on that door. Then I'd 'a'known you was here. I'll go and have my old man hunt him up. He must bearound town somewheres. Like as not he'll meet the six-twenty, expectingyou to be on it. "

She smiled reassuringly as she turned to the inner door. 

"You take off your hat and jacket, and pretty soon I'll show you up to aroom. I'll have to round up my old man first--and that's liable to taketime. " She turned her eyes quizzically to the porky-cheeked portrait. "Youjest let Walt keep you company till I get back. He was real good companywhen he was livin'. "

She smiled again and went out briskly, came back, and stood with her handupon the cracked doorknob. 

"I clean forgot your name, " she hinted. "Man told me, at dinner time, butI'm no good on earth at remembering names till after I've seen the personit belongs to. "

"Valeria Peyson--Val, they call me usually, at home. " The homesickness ofthe girl shone in her misty eyes, haunted her voice. Mrs. Hawley read it, and spoke more briskly than she would otherwise have done. 

"Well, we're plumb strangers, but we ain't going to stay that way, becauseevery time you come to town you'll have to stop here; there ain't any otherplace to stop. And I'm going to start right in calling you Val. We don'tuse no ceremony with folk's names, out here. Val's a real nice name, shortand easy to say. Mine's Arline. You can call me by it if you want to. Idon't let everybody--so many wants to cut it down to Leen, and I won'tstand for that; I'm _lean_ enough, without havin' it throwed up to me. Wemight jest as well start in the way we're likely to keep it up, and youwon't feel so much like a stranger. 

"I'm awful glad you're going to settle here--there ain't so awful manywomen in the country; we have to rake and scrape to git enough for threesets when we have a dance--and more likely we can't make out more 'n two. D' you dance? Somebody said they seen a fiddle box down to the depot, witha couple of big trunks; d' you play the fiddle?"

"A little, " Valeria smiled faintly. 

"Well, that'll come in awful handy at dances. We'd have 'em real often inthe winter if it wasn't such a job to git music. Well, I got too much to doto be standin' here talkin'. I have to keep right after that breed girl allthe time, or she won't do nothing. I'll git my old man after your fellowright away. Jest make yourself to home, and anything you want ask for itin the kitchen. " She smiled in friendly fashion and closed the door with alittle slam to make sure that it latched. 

Valeria stood for a moment with her hands hanging straight at hersides, staring absently at the door. Then she glanced at Walt, staringwooden-faced from his gilt frame upon his gilt easel, and shivered. Shepushed the red plush chair as far away from him as possible, sat down withher back to the picture, and immediately felt his dull, black eyes boringinto her back. 

"What a fool I must be!" she said aloud, glancing reluctantly over hershoulder at the portrait. She got up resolutely, placed the chair where ithad stood before, and stared deliberately at Walt, as if she would provehow little she cared. But in a moment more she was crying dismally. 

CHAPTER II

WELL-MEANT ADVICE

Kent Burnett, bearing over his arm a coat newly pressed in the Delmonicorestaurant, dodged in at the back door of the saloon, threw the coat downupon the tousled bed, and pushed back his hat with a gesture of relief atan onerous duty well performed. 

"I had one hell of a time, " he announced plaintively, "and that Chink willlikely try to poison me if I eat over there, after this--but I got herironed, all right. Get into it, Man, and chase yourself over there to thehotel. Got a clean collar? That one's all-over coffee. "

Fleetwood stifled a groan, reached into a trousers pocket, and brought up adollar. "Get me one at the store, will you, Kent? Fifteen and a half--and atie, if they've got any that's decent. And hurry! Such a triple-three-starfool as I am ought to be taken out and shot. "

He went on cursing himself audibly and bitterly, even after Kenthad hurried out. He was sober now--was Manley Fleetwood--sober andself-condemnatory and penitent. His head ached splittingly; his eyeswere heavy-lidded and bloodshot, and his hands trembled so that he couldscarcely button his coat. But he was sober. He did not even carry the odorof whisky upon his breath or his person; for Kent had been very thoughtfuland very thorough. He had compelled his patient to crunch and swallow manynauseous tablets of "whisky killer, " and he had sprinkled his clothesliberally with Jockey Club; Fleetwood, therefore, while he emanated odorsin plenty, carried about him none of the aroma properly belonging tointoxication. 

In ten minutes Kent was back, with a celluloid collar and two ties ofquestionable taste. Manley just glanced at them, waved them away withgloomy finality, and swore. 

"They're just about the limit, and that's no dream, " sympathized Kent, "butthey're clean, and they don't look like they'd been slept in for a month. You've got to put 'em on--by George, I sized up the layout in both thoseimitation stores, and I drew the highest in the deck. And for the Lord'ssake, get a move on. Here, I'll button it for you. "

Behind Fleetwood's back, when collar and tie were in place, Kent grinnedand lowered an eyelid at Jim, who put his head in from the saloon to seehow far the sobering had progressed. 

"You look fine!" he encouraged heartily. "That green-and-blue tie's justwhat you need to set you off. And the collar sure is shiny and nice--yourgirl will be plumb dazzled. She won't see anything wrong--believe _me_. Now, run along and get married. Here, you better sneak out the back way; ifshe happened to be looking out, she'd likely wonder what you were doing, coming out of a saloon. Duck out past the coal shed and cut into the streetby Brinberg's. Tell her you're sick--got a sick headache. Your looks'llswear it's the truth. Hike!" He opened the door and pushed Fleetwood out, watched him out of sight around the corner of Brinberg's store, and turnedback into the close-smelling little room. 

"Do you know, " he remarked to Jim, "I never thought of it before, but I'vebeen playing a low-down trick on that poor girl. I kinda wish now I'd puther next, and given her a chance to draw outa the game if she wanted to. It's stacking the deck on her, if you ask _me_!" He pushed his hat backupon his head, gave his shoulders a twist of dissatisfaction, and told Jimto dig up some Eastern beer; drank it meditatively, and set down the glasswith some force. 

"Yes, sir, " he said disgustedly, "darn my fool soul, I stacked the deck onthat girl--and she looked to be real nice. Kinda innocent and trusting, like she hasn't found out yet how rotten mean men critters can be. " He tookthe bottle and poured himself another glass. "She's sure due to wise up alot, " he added grimly. 

"You bet your sweet life!" Jim agreed, and then he reconsidered. "Still, Idunno; Man ain't so worse. He ain't what you can call a real booze fighter. This here's what I'd call an accidental jag; got it in the exuberance ofthe joyful moment when he knew his girl was coming. He'll likely straightenup and be all right. He--" Jim broke off there and looked to see who hadopened the door. 

"Hello, Polly, " he greeted carelessly. 

The man came forward, grinning skinnily. Polycarp Jenks was the outrageousname of him. He was under the average height, and he was lean to the pointof emaciation. His mouth was absolutely curveless--a straight gash acrosshis face; a gash which simply stopped short without any tapering or anyturn at the corners, when it had reached as far as was decent. His nose wasalso straight and high, and owned no perceptible slope; indeed, it seemedmerely a pendant attached to his forehead, and its upper termination wasindefinite, except that somewhere between his eyebrows one felt impelled toconsider it forehead rather than nose. His eyes also were rather long andnarrow, like buttonholes cut to match the mouth. When he grinned his faceappeared to break up into splinters. 

He was intensely proud of his name, and his pleasure was almost patheticwhen one pronounced it without curtailment in his presence. His skinninesswas also a matter of pride. And when you realize that he was anindefatigable gossip, and seemed always to be riding at large, gathering orimparting trivial news, you should know fairly well Polycarp Jenks. 

"I see Man Fleetwood's might' near sober enough to git married, " Polycarpbegan, coming up to the two and leaning a sharp elbow upon the bar besideKent. "By granny, gitting married'd sober anybody! Dinner time he was sodrunk he couldn't find his mouth. I met him up here a little ways just now, and he was so sober he remembered to pay me that ten I lent him t' otherday--_he-he!_ Open up a bottle of pop, James. 

"His girl's been might' near crying her eyes out, 'cause he didn't showup. Mis' Hawley says she looked like she was due at a funeral 'stid of aweddin'. 'Clined to be stuck up, accordin' to Mis' Hawley--shied at hearin'about Walt--_he-he!_ I'll bet there ain't been a transient to that hotel inthe last five year, man or woman, that ain't had to hear about Walt and theshotgun--Pop's all right on a hot day, you bet!

"She's got two trunks and a fiddle over to the depot--don't see how 'n theworld Man's going to git 'em out to the ranch; they're might' near as bigas claim shacks, both of 'em. Time she gits 'em into Man's shack she'llhave to go outside every time she wants to turn around--_he-he!_ Bygranny--two trunks, to one woman! Have some pop, Kenneth, on me. 

"The boys are talkin' about a shivaree t'-night. On the quiet, y' know. Some of 'em's workin' on a horse fiddle now, over in the lumber yard. Wanted me to play a coal-oil can, but I dunno. I'm gittin' a leetle old forsech doings. Keeps you up nights too much. Man had any sense, he'd marryand pull outa town. 'Bout fifteen or twenty in the bunch, and a string ofcans and irons to reach clean across the street. By granny, I'm going toplug m' ears good with cotton when it comes off--_he-he!_ 'Nother bottle ofpop, James. "

"Who's running the show, Polycarp?" Kent asked, accepting the glass of sodabecause he disliked to offend. "Funny I didn't hear about it. "

Polycarp twisted his slit of a mouth knowingly, and closed one slit of aneye to assist the facial elucidation. 

"Ain't funny--not when I tell you Fred De Garmo's handing out the_in_vites, and he sure aims to have plenty of excitement--_he-he!_Betcher Manley won't be able to set on the wagon seat an' hold the linest'-morrow--not if he comes out when he's called and does the thingproper--_he-he!_ An' if he don't show up, they aim to jest about pull theold shebang down over his ears. Hope'll think it's the day of judgment, sure--_he-he!_ Reckon I might's well git in on the fun--they won't be nosleepin' within ten mile of the place, nohow, and a feller always sees thejoke better when he's lendin' a hand. Too bad you an' Fred's on the outs, Kenneth. "

"Oh, I don't know--it suits me fine, " Kent declared easily, setting downhis glass with a sigh of relief; he hated "pop. "

"What's it all about, anyway?" quizzed Polycarp, hungering for the detailswhich had thus far been denied him. "De Garmo sees red whenever anybodymentions your name, Kenneth--but I never did hear no particulars. "

"No?" Kent was turning toward the door. "Well, you see, Fred claims hecan holler louder than I can, and I say he can't. " He opened the door andcalmly departed, leaving Polycarp looking exceedingly foolish and a bitangry. 

Straight to the hotel, without any pretense at disguising his destination, marched Kent. He went into the office--which was really a saloon--invitedHawley to drink with him, and then wondered audibly if he could beg somepie from Mrs. Hawley. 

"Supper'll be ready in a few minutes, " Hawley informed him, glancing up atthe round, dust-covered clock screwed to the wall. 

"I don't want supper--I want pie, " Kent retorted, and opened a door whichled into the hallway. He went down the narrow passage to another door, opened it without ceremony, and was assailed by the odor of manythings--the odor which spoke plainly of supper, or some other assortment offood. No one was in sight, so he entered the dining room boldly, stepped toanother door, tapped very lightly upon it, and went in. By this somewhatroundabout method he invaded the parlor. 

Manley Fleetwood was lying upon an extremely uncomfortable couch, of thekind which is called a sofa. He had a lace-edged handkerchief folded uponhis brow, and upon his face was an expression of conscious unworthinesswhich struck Kent as being extremely humorous. He grinned understandinglyand Manley flushed--also understandingly. Valeria hastily released Manley'shand and looked very prim and a bit haughty, as she regarded the intruderfrom the red plush chair, pulled close to the couch. 

"Mr. Fleetwood's head is very bad yet, " she informed Kent coldly. "I reallydo not think he ought to see--anybody. "

Kent tapped his hat gently against his leg and faced her unflinchingly, quite unconscious of the fact that she regarded him as a dissolute, drunkencowboy with whom Manley ought not to associate. 

"That's too bad. " His eyes failed to drop guiltily before hers, butcontinued to regard her calmly. "I'm only going to stay a minute. I came totell you that there's a scheme to raise--to 'shivaree' you two, tonight. Ithought you might want to pull out, along about dark. "

Manley looked up at him inquiringly with the eye which was not covered bythe lace-edged handkerchief. Valeria seemed startled, just at first. Thenshe gave Kent a little shock of surprise. 

"I have read about such things. A _charivari_, even out here in thisuncivilized section of the country, can hardly be dangerous. I really donot think we care to run away, thank you. " Her lip curled unmistakably. "Mr. Fleetwood is suffering from a sick headache. He needs rest--not acowardly night ride. "

Naturally Kent admired the spirit she showed, in spite of that eloquentlip, the scorn of which seemed aimed directly at him. But he still facedher steadily. 

"Sure. But if I had a headache--like that--I'd certainly burn the earthgetting outa town to-night. _Shivarees_"--he stuck stubbornly to his ownway of saying it--"are bad for the head. They aren't what you could callsilent--not out here in this uncivilized section of the country. They'replumb--" He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, and his resentmentof her tone melted into a twinkle of the eyes. "They've got fifty coal-oilcans strung with irons on a rope, and there'll be about ninety-fivesix-shooters popping, and eight or ten horse-fiddles, and they'll all beyelling to beat four of a kind. They're going, " he said quite gravely, "toplay the full orchestra. And I don't believe, " he added ironically, "it'sgoing to help Mr. Fleetwood's head any. "

Valeria looked at him doubtingly with steady, amber-colored eyes before sheturned solicitously to readjust the lace-edged handkerchief. Kent seizedthe opportunity to stare fixedly at Fleetwood and jerk his head meaninglybackward, but when, warned by Manley's changing expression, she glancedsuspiciously over her shoulder, Kent was standing quietly by the door withhis hat in his hand, gazing absently at Walt in his gilt-edged frame uponthe gilt easel, and waiting, evidently, for their decision. 

"I shall tell them that Mr. Fleetwood is sick--that he has a horribleheadache, and mustn't be disturbed. "

Kent forgot himself so far as to cough slightly behind his hand. Valeria'seyes sparkled. 

"Even out here, " she went on cuttingly, "there must be some men who aregentlemen!"

Kent refrained from looking at her, but the blood crept darkly into histanned cheeks. Evidently she "had it in for him, " but he could not see why. He wondered swiftly if she blamed him for Manley's condition. 

Fleetwood suddenly sat up, spilling the handkerchief to the floor. WhenValeria essayed to push him back he put her hand gently away. He rose andcame over to Kent. 

"Is this straight goods?" he demanded. "Why don't you stop it?"

"Fred De Garmo's running this show. My influence wouldn't go as far--"

Fleetwood turned to the girl, and his manner was masterful. "I'm going outwith Kent--oh, Val, this is Mr. Burnett. Kent, Miss Peyson. I forgot youtwo aren't acquainted. "

From Valeria's manner, they were in no danger of becoming friends. Heracknowledgment was barely perceptible. Kent bowed stiffly. 

"I'm going to see about this, Val, " continued Fleetwood. "Oh, my head'sbetter--a lot better, really. Maybe we'd better leave town--"

"If your head is better, I don't see why we need run away from a lot ofsilly noise, " Valeria interposed, with merciless logic. "They'll thinkwe're awful cowards. "

"Well, I'll try and find out--I won't be gone a minute, dear. " After thatword, spoken before another, he appeared to be in great haste, and pushedKent rather unceremoniously through the door. In the dining room, Kentdiplomatically included the landlady in the conference, by a gesture ofmuch mystery bringing her in from the kitchen, where she had been curiouslypeeping out at them. 

"Got to let her in, " he whispered to Manley, "to keep her face closed. "

They murmured together for five minutes. Kent seemed to meet with someopposition from Fleetwood--an aftermath of Valeria's objections toflight--and became brutally direct. 

"Go ahead--do as you please, " he said roughly. "But you know that bunch. You'll have to show up, and you'll have to set 'em up, and--aw, thunder!By morning you'll be plumb laid out. You'll be headed into one of yourfour-day jags, and you know it. I was thinking of the girl--but if youdon't care, I guess it's none of my funeral. Go to it--but darned if I'dwant to start my honeymoon out like that!"

Fleetwood weakened, but still he hesitated. "If I didn't show up--" hebegan hopefully. But Kent wittered him with a look. 

"That bunch will be two-thirds full before they start out. If you don'tshow up, they'll go up and haul you outa bed--hell, Man! You'd likely startin to kill somebody off. Fred De Garmo don't love you much better than heloves me. You know what him and his friends would do then, I should think. "He stopped, and seemed to consider briefly a plan, but shook his headover it. "I could round up a bunch and stand 'em off, maybe--but we'd beshooting each other up, first rattle of the box. It's a whole lot easierfor you to get outa town. "

"I'll tell somebody you got the bridal chamber, " hissed Arline, in a veryloud whisper. "That's number two, in front. I can keep a light going andpass back 'n' forth once in a while, to look like you're there. That'llfool 'em good. They'll wait till the light's been out quite a while beforethey start in. You go ahead and git married at seven, jest as you was goingto--and if Kent'll have the team ready somewheres, I can easy sneak you outthe back way. "

"I couldn't get the team out of town without giving the whole deal away, "Kent objected. "You'll have to go horseback. ". 

"Val can't ride, " Fleetwood stated, as if that settled the matter. 

"Damn it, she's got to ride!" snapped Kent, losing patience. "Unless youwant to stay and go on a toot that'll last a week, most likely. "

"Val belongs to the W. C. T. U. , " shrugged Fleetwood. "She'd never--"

"Well, it's that or have a fight on your hands you maybe can't handle. Idon't see any sense in haggling about going, now you know what to expect. But, of course, " he added, with some acrimony, "it's your own business. Idon't know what the dickens I'm getting all worked up over it for. Suityourself. " He turned toward the door. 

"She could ride my Mollie--and I got a sidesaddle hanging up in the coalshed. She could use that, or a stock saddle, either one, " planned Mrs. Hawley anxiously. "You better pull out, Man. "

"Hold on, Kent! Don't rush off--we'll go, " Fleetwood surrendered. "Valwon't like it, but I'll explain as well as I can, without--Say! you stayand see us married, won't you? It's at seven, and--"

Kent's fingers curled around the doorknob. "No, thanks. Weddings andfunerals are two bunches of trouble I always ride 'way around. Time enoughwhen you've got to be _it_. Along about nine o'clock you try and get out tothe stockyards without letting the whole town see you go, and I'll have thehorses there; just beyond the wings, by that pile of ties. You know theplace. I'll wait there till ten, and not a minute longer. That'll give youan hour, and you won't need any more time than that if you get down tobusiness. You find out from her what saddle she wants, and you can tell mewhile I'm eating supper, Mrs. Hawley. I'll 'tend to the rest. " He did notwait to hear whether they agreed to the plan, but went moodily down thenarrow passage, and entered frowningly the "office. " Several men weregathered there, waiting the supper summons. Hawley glanced up from wiping aglass, and grinned. 

"Well, did you git the pie?"

"Naw. She said I'd got to wait for mealtime. She plumb chased me out. "

Fred De Garmo, sprawled in an armchair and smoking a cigar, lazily fannedthe smoke cloud from before his face and looked at Kent attentively. 

CHAPTER III

A LADY IN A TEMPER

To saddle two horses when the night has grown black and to lead them, unobserved, so short a distance as two hundred yards or so seems a simplething; and for two healthy young people with full use of their wits andtheir legs to steal quietly away to where those horses are waitingwould seem quite as simple. At the same time, to prevent the successfulaccomplishment of these things is not difficult, if one but fullyunderstands the designs of the fugitives. 

Hawley Hotel did a flourishing business that night. The two long tables inthe dining room, usually not more than half filled by those who hungeredand were not over-nice concerning the food they ate, were twice filled tooverflowing. Mrs. Hawley and the "breed" girl held hasty consultations inthe kitchen over the supply, and never was there such a rattling of disheshurriedly cleansed for the next comer. 

Kent managed to find a chair at the first table, and eyed the landladyunobtrusively. But Fred De Garmo sat down opposite, and his eyes werebright and watchful, so that there seemed no possible way of delivering amessage undetected--until, indeed, Mrs. Hawley in desperation resorted tostrategy, and urged Kent unnecessarily to take another slice of bacon. 

"Have some more--it's _side_!" she hissed in his ear, and watched anxiouslyhis face. 

"All right, " said Kent, and speared a slice with his fork, although hisplate was already well supplied with bacon. Then, glancing up, he detectedFred in a thoughtful stare which seemed evenly divided between the landladyand himself. Kent was conscious of a passing, mental discomfort, which heput aside as foolish, because De Garmo could not possibly know what Mrs. Hawley meant. To ease his mind still further he glared insolently at Fred, and then at Polycarp Jenks _te-hee_ing a few chairs away. After that hefinished as quickly as possible without exciting remark, and went his way. 

He had not, however, been two minutes in the office before De Garmoentered. From that time on through the whole evening Fred was never fardistant; wherever he went, Kent could not shake him off though De Garmonever seemed to pay any attention to him, and his presence was alwaysapparently accidental. 

"I reckon I'll have to lick that son of a gun yet, " sighed Kent, when aglance at the round clock in the hotel office told him that in just twentyminutes it would strike nine; and not a move made toward getting thosehorses saddled and out to the stockyards. 

There was much talk of the wedding, which had taken place quietly in theparlor at the appointed hour, but not a man mentioned a _charivari_. Therewere many who wished openly that Fleetwood would come out and be sociableabout it, but not a hint that they intended to take measures to bring himamong them. He had caused a box of cigars to be placed upon the bar ofevery saloon in town, where men might help themselves at his expense. Evidently he had considered that with the cigars his social obligationswere canceled. They smoked the cigars, and, with the same breath, gossipedof him and his affairs. 

At just fourteen minutes to nine Kent went out, and, without any attemptat concealment, hurried to the Hawley stables. Half a minute behind himtrailed De Garmo, also without subterfuge. 

Half an hour later the bridal couple stole away from the rear of the hotel, and, keeping to the shadows, went stumbling over the uneven ground to thestockyards. 

"Here's the tie pile, " Fleetwood announced, in an undertone, when theyreached the place. "You stay here, Val, and I'll look farther along thefence; maybe the horses are down there. "

Valeria did not reply, but stood very straight and dignified in the shadowof the huge pile of rotting railroad ties. He was gone but a moment, andcame anxiously back to her. 

"They're not here, " he said, in a low voice. "Don't worry, dear. He'llcome--I know Kent Burnett. "

"Are you sure?" queried Val sweetly. "From what I have seen of thegentleman, your high estimate of him seems quite unauthorized. Aside fromescorting me to the hotel, he has been anything but reliable. Instead oftelling you that I was here, or telling me that you were sick, he wentstraight into a saloon and forgot all about us both. You know that. If hewere your friend, why should he immediately begin carousing, instead of--"

"He didn't, " Fleetwood defended weakly. 

"No? Then perhaps you can explain his behavior. Why didn't he tell me youwere sick? Why didn't he tell you I came on that train? Can you tell methat, Manley?"

Manley, for a very good reason, could not; so he put his arms around herand tried to coax her into good humor. 

"Sweetheart, let's not quarrel so soon--why, we're only two hours married!I want you to be happy, and if you'll only be brave and--"

"Brave!" Mrs. Fleetwood laughed rather contemptuously, for a bride. "Pleaseto understand, Manley, that I'm not frightened in the least. It's you andthat horrid cowboy--_I_ don't see why we need run away, like criminals. Those men don't intend to _murder_ us, do they?" Her mood softened alittle, and she squeezed his arm between her hands. "You dear old silly, I'm not blaming _you_. With your head in such a state, you can't thinkthings out properly, and you let that cowboy influence you against yourbetter judgment. You're afraid I might be annoyed--but, really, Manley, this silly idea of running away annoys me much more than all the noisethose fellows could possibly make. Indeed, I don't think I would mind--itwould give me a glimpse of the real West; and, perhaps, if they grewtoo boisterous, and I spoke to them and asked them not to be quite sorough--and, really, they only mean it as a sort of welcome, in their crudeway. We could invite some of the nicest in to have cake and coffee--ormaybe we might get some ice cream somewhere--and it might turn out a verypleasant little affair. I don't mind meeting them, Manley. The worst ofthem can't be as bad as that--but, of course, if he's your friend, Isuppose I oughtn't to speak too freely my opinion of him!"

Fleetwood held her closely, patted her cheek absently, and tried to thinkof some effective argument. 

"They'll be drunk, sweetheart, " he told her, after a silence. 

"I don't think so, " she returned firmly. "I have been watching the streetall the evening. I saw any number of men passing back and forth, and Ididn't see one who staggered. And they were all very quiet, consideringtheir rough ways, which one must expect. Why, Manley, you always wroteabout these Western men being such fine fellows, and so generous andbig-hearted, under their rough exterior. Your letters were full of it--andhow chivalrous they all are toward nice women. "

She laid her head coaxingly against his shoulder. "Let's go back, Manley. I--_want_ to see a _charivari_, dear. It will be fun. I want to write allabout it to the girls. They'll be perfectly wild with envy. " She struggledwith her conventional upbringing. "And even if some of them are slightlyunder the influence--of liquor, we needn't _meet_ them. You needn'tintroduce those at all, and I'm sure they will understand, "

"Don't be silly, Val!" Fleetwood did not mean to be rude, but a faintglimmer of her romantic viewpoint--a viewpoint gained chiefly from currentfiction and the stage--came to him and contrasted rather brutally with thereality. He did not know how to make her understand, without incriminatinghimself. His letters had been rather idealistic, he admitted to himself. They had been written unthinkingly, because he wanted her to like this bigland; naturally he had not been too baldly truthful in picturing the placeand the people. He had passed lightly over their faults and thrown thelimelight on their virtues; and so he had aided unwittingly the stage andthe fiction she had read, in giving her a false impression. 

Offended at his words and his tone, she drew away from him and glancedwistfully back toward the town, as if she meditated a haughty return to thehotel. She ended by seating herself upon a projecting tie. 

"Oh, very well, my lord, " she retorted, "I shall try and not be silly, butmerely idiotic, as you would have me. You and your friend!" She was veryangry, but she was perfectly well-bred, she hoped. "If I might venture aword, " she began again ironically, "it seems to me that your friend hasbeen playing a practical joke upon you. He evidently has no intention ofbringing any fleet steeds to us. No doubt he is at this moment laughingwith his dissolute companions, because we are sitting out here in the darklike two silly chickens!"

"I think he's coming now, " Manley said rather stiffly. "Of course, I don'task you to like him; but he's putting himself to a good deal of trouble forus, and--"

"Wasted effort, so far as I am concerned, " Valeria put in, with a chirpyaccent which was exasperating, even to a bridegroom very much in love withhis bride. 

In the darkness that muffled the land, save where the yellow flare of lampsin the little town made a misty brightness, came the click of shod hoofs. Another moment and a man, mounted upon a white horse, loomed indistinctbefore them, seeming to take substance from the night. Behind him trailedanother horse, and for the first time in her life Valeria heard the soft, whispering creak of saddle leather, the faint clank of spur chains, and thewhir of a horse mouthing the "cricket" in his bit. Even in her anger, shewas conscious of an answering tingle of blood, because this was life inthe raw--life such as she had dreamed of in the tight swaddlings of a smugcivilization, and had longed for intensely. 

Kent swung down close beside them, his form indistinct but purposeful. "I'mlate, I guess, " he remarked, turning to Fleetwood. "Fred got next, somehow, and--I was detained. "

"Where is he?" asked Manley, going up and laying a questioning hand uponthe horse, by that means fully recognizing it as Kent's own. 

"In the oats box, " said Kent laconically. He turned to the girl. "Icouldn't get the sidesaddle, " he explained apologetically. "I looked whereMrs. Hawley said it was, but I couldn't find it--and I didn't have muchtime. You'll have to ride a stock saddle. "

Valeria drew back a step. "You mean--a man's saddle?" Her voice wascarefully polite. 

"Why, yes. " And he added: "The horse is dead gentle--and a sidesaddle's nogood, anyhow. You'll like this better. " He spoke, as was evident, purelyfrom a man's viewpoint. 

That viewpoint Mrs. Fleetwood refused to share. "Oh, I couldn't ride aman's saddle, " she protested, still politely, and one could imagine how herlips were pursed. "Indeed, I'm not sure that I care to leave town at all. "To her the declaration did not seem unreasonable or abrupt but she feltthat Kent was very much shocked. She saw him turn his head and look backtoward the town, as if he half expected a pursuit. 

"I don't reckon the oats box will hold Fred very long, " he observedmeditatively. He added reminiscently to Manley: "I had a deuce of a timegetting the cover down and fastened. "

"I'm very sorry, " said Valeria, with sweet dignity, "that you gave yourselfso much trouble--"

"I'm kinda sorry myself, " Kent agreed mildly, and Valeria blushed hotly, and was glad he could not see. 

"Come, Val--you can ride this saddle, all right. All the girls out here--"

"I did not come West to imitate all the girls. Indeed, I could never thinkof such a thing. I couldn't possibly--really, Manley! And, you know, itdoes seem so childish of us to run away--"

Kent moved restlessly, and felt to see if the cinch was tight. 

Fleetwood took her coaxingly by the arm. "Come, sweetheart, don't bestubborn. You know--"

"Well, really! If it's a question of obstinacy--You see, I look at thematter in this way: You believe that you are doing what is best for mysake; I don't agree with you--and it does seem as if I should be permittedto judge what I desire. " Then her dignity and her sweet calm went downbefore a flash of real, unpolished temper. "You two can take those nastyhorses and ride clear to Dakota, if you want to. I'm going back to thehotel. And I'm going to tell somebody to let that poor fellow out of thatbox. I think you're acting perfectly horrid, both of you, when I don't wantto go!" She actually started back toward the scattered points of light. 

She did not, however, get so faraway that she failed to hear Kent's "Well, I'll be damned!" uttered in a tone of intense disgust. 

"I don't care, " she assured herself, because of the thrill of compunctioncaused by that one forcible sentence. She had never before in her lifeheard a man really swear. It affected her very much as would the accidentaltouch of an electric battery. She walked on slowly, stumbling a little andtrying to hear what it was they were saying. 

Then Kent passed her, loping back to the town, the led horse shaking hissaddle so that it rattled the stirrups like castanets as he galloped. "Idon't care, " she told herself again very emphatically, because she wasquite sure that she did care--or that she would care if only she permittedherself to be so foolish. Manley overtook her then, and drew her hand underhis arm to lead her. But he seemed quite sullen, and would not say a wordall the way back. 

CHAPTER IV

THE "SHIVAREE"

Kent jerked open the stable door, led in his horses, turned them into theirstalls, and removed the saddles with quick, nervous movements which toldplainly how angry he was. 

"I'll get myself all excited trying to do her a favor again--I don'tthink!" he growled in the ear of Michael, his gray gelding. "Think of megetting let down on my face like that! By a woman!"

He felt along the wall in the intense darkness until his fingers toucheda lantern, took it down from the nail where it hung, and lighted it. Hecarried it farther down the rude passage between the stalls, hung it highupon another nail, and turned to the great oats box, from within which camea vigorous thumping and the sound of muttered cursing. 

Kent was not in the mood to see the humor of anything in particular. Had heknown anything about Pandora's box he might have drawn a comparison veryneatly while he stood scowling down at the oats box, for certainly he waslikely to release trouble in plenty when he unfastened that lid. He felt ofthe gun swinging at his hip, just to assure himself that it was thereand ready for business in case Fred wanted to shoot, and rapped with hisknuckles upon the box, producing instant silence within. 

"Don't make so much noise in there, " he advised grimly, "not unless youwant the whole town to know where you are, and have 'em give you the laugh. And, listen here: I ain't apologizing for what I done, but, all the same, I'm sorry I did it. It wasn't any use. I'd rather be shut up in an oats boxall night than get let down like I was--and I'm telling you this so as tostart us off even. If you want to fight about it when you come out, allright; you're the doctor. But I'm just as sorry as you are it happened. I lay down my hand right here. I hope you shivaree Man and his wife--andshivaree 'em good. I hope you bust the town wide open. "

"Why this sudden change of heart?" came muffled from within. 

"Ah--that's my own business. Well, I don't like you a little bit, and youknow it; but I'll tell you, just to give you a fair show. I wanted to keepMan sober, and I tried to get him and his wife out of town before thatshivaree of yours was pulled off. But the lady wouldn't have it that way. I got let right down on my face, and I'm done. Now you know just where Istand. Maybe I'm a fool for telling you, but I seem to be in the businessto-night. Come on out. "

He unfastened the big iron hasp, which was showing signs of the strain putupon it, and stepped back watchfully. The thick, oaken lid was pushed up, and Fred De Garmo, rather dusty and disheveled and purple from theclose atmosphere of the box and from anger as well, came up like ajack-in-the-box and glared at Kent. When he had stepped out upon the stablefloor, however, he smiled rather unpleasantly. 

[Illustration: He was jeered unmercifully by Fred De Garmo and his crowd]

"If you've told the truth, " he said maliciously, "I guess the lady haspretty near evened things up. If you haven't--if I don't find them both atthe hotel--well--Anyway, " he added, with an ominous inflection, "there'llbe other days to settle this in!"

"Why, sure. Help yourself, Fred, " Kent retorted cheerfully, and stood wherehe was until Fred had gone out. Then he turned and closed the box. "Betweenthat yellow-eyed dame and the chump that went and left this box wide openfor me to tip Fred into, " he soliloquized, while he took down the lantern, and so sent the shadows dancing weirdly about him, "I've got a bunch oftrouble mixed up, for fair. I wish the son of a gun would fight it out now, and be done with it; but no, that ain't Fred. He'd a heap rather wait andlet it draw interest!"

Over in the hotel the "yellow-eyed dame" was doing her unsophisticated bestto meet the situation gracefully, and to realize certain vague and ratherromantic dreams of her life out West. She meant to be very gracious, forone thing, and to win the chivalrous friendship of every man who came toparticipate in the rude congratulations that had been planned. Just howshe meant to do this she did not know--except that the graciousness wouldcertainly prove a very important factor. 

"I'm going to remain downstairs, " she told Manley, when they reached thehotel. It was the first sentence she had spoken since he overtook her. "I'mso glad, dear, " she added diplomatically, "that you decided to stay. I wantto see that funny landlady now, please, and get her to serve coffee andcake to our guests in the parlor. I wish I might have had one of my trunksbrought over here; I should like to wear a pretty gown. " She glanced downat her tailored suit with true feminine dissatisfaction. "But everythingwas so--so confused, with your being late, and sick--is your head better, dear?"

Manley, in very few words, assured her that it was. Manley was strugglingwith his inner self, trying to answer one very important question, and toanswer it truthfully: Could he meet "the boys, " do his part among them, andstill remain sober? That seemed to be the only course open to him now, andhe knew himself just well enough to doubt his own strength. But if Kentwould help him--He felt an immediate necessity to find Kent. 

"You'll find Mrs. Hawley somewhere around, " he said hurriedly. "I've got tosee Kent--"

"Oh, Manley! Don't have anything to do with that horrid cowboy! He'snot--nice. He--he swore, when he must have known I could hear him; and hewas swearing about _me_, Manley. Didn't you hear him?" She stood in thedoorway and clung to his arm. 

"No, " lied Manley. "You must have been mistaken, sweetheart. "

"Oh, I wasn't; I heard him quite plainly. " She must have thought it aterrible thing, for she almost whispered the last words, and she releasedhim with much reluctance. It seemed to her that Manley was in danger offalling among low associates, and that she must protect him in spite ofhimself. It failed to occur to her that Manley had been exposed to thatdanger for three years, without any protection whatever. 

She was thankful, when he came to her later in the parlor, to learn fromhim that he had not held any speech with Kent. That was some comfort--andshe felt that she needed a little comforting, just then. Her consultationwith Arline had been rather unsatisfactory. Arline had told her bluntlythat "the bunch" didn't want any coffee and cake. Whisky and cigars, saidArline, without so much as a blush, was what appealed to them fellows. IfManley handed it out liberal enough, they wouldn't bother his bride. Verylikely, Arline had assured her, she wouldn't see one of them. That, on thewhole, had been rather discouraging. How was she to show herself a graciouslady, forsooth, if no one came near her? But she kept these thingsjealously tucked away in the remotest corner of her own mind, and managedto look the relief she did not feel. 

And, after all, the _charivari_, as is apt to be the case when the plansare laid so carefully, proved a very tame affair. Valeria, sitting ratherdismally in the parlor with Mrs. Hawley for company, at midnight heard abanging of tin cans somewhere outside, a fitful popping of six-shooters, and an abortive attempt at a procession coming up the street. But the linesseemed to waver and then break utterly at the first saloon, where drink wasto be had for the asking and Manley Fleetwood was pledged to pay, and therattle of cans was all but drowned in the shouts of laughter and talk whichcame from the "office, " across the hall. For where is the pleasure or theprofit in _charivaring_ a bridal couple which stays up and waits quiteopenly for the clamor?

"Is it always so noisy here at night?" asked Valeria faintly when Mrs. Hawley had insisted upon her lying down upon the uncomfortable sofa. 

"Well, no--unless a round-up pulls in, or there's a dance, or it'sChristmas, or something. It's liable to keep up till two or three o'clock, so the sooner you git used to it, the better off you'll be. I'm going toleave you here, and go to bed--unless you want to go upstairs yourself. Only it'll be noisier than ever up in your room, for it's right over theoffice, and the way sound travels up is something fierce. Don't you beafraid--I'll lock this door, and if your husband wants to come in he cancome through the dining room. " She looked at Valeria and hesitated beforeshe spoke the next sentence. "And don't you worry a bit over him, neither. My old man was in the kitchen a minute ago, when I was out there, and hesays Man ain't drinking a drop to-night. He's keeping as straight as--"

Valeria sat up suddenly, quite scandalized. "Oh--why, of course Manleywouldn't drink with them! Why--who ever heard of such a thing? The idea!"She stared reproachfully at her hostess. 

"Oh, sure! I didn't say such a thing was liable to happen. I just thoughtyou might be--worrying--they're making so much racket in there, " stammeredArline. 

"Indeed, no. I'm not at all worried, thank you. And please don't let mekeep you up any longer, Mrs. Hawley. I am quite comfortable--mentally andphysically, I assure you. Good night. "

Not even Mrs. Hawley could remain after that. She went out and closed thedoor carefully behind her, without even finding voice enough to returnValeria's sweetly modulated good night. 

"She's got a whole lot to learn, " she relieved her feelings somewhat bymuttering as she mounted the stairs. 

What it cost Manley Fleetwood to abstain absolutely and without even thecompromise of "soft" drinks that night, who can say? Three years of freeliving in Montana had lowered his standard of morality without giving himthat rugged strength of mind which makes a man master of himself first ofall. He had that day lain, drunken and sleeping, when he should have beenat his mental and physical best to meet the girl who would marry him. Itwas that very defection, perhaps, which kept him sober in the midst of histaunting fellows. Now that Valeria was actually here, and was his wife, hewas possessed by the desire to make some sacrifice by which he might provehis penitence. At any cost he would spare her pain and humiliation, he toldhimself. 

He did it, and he did it under difficulty. He was denied the moral supportof Kent Burnett, for Kent was sulking over his slight, and would havenothing to say to him. He was jeered unmercifully by Fred De Garmo and hiscrowd. He was "baptized" by some drunken reveler, so that the stench ofspilled whisky filled his nostrils and tortured him the night through. He was urged, he was bullied, he was ridiculed. His head throbbed, hiseyeballs burned. But through it all he stayed among them because he fearedthat if he left them and went to Val, some drunken fool might follow himand shock her with his inebriety. He stayed, and he stayed sober. Val washis wife. She trusted him, and she was ignorant of his sins. If he went toher staggering and babbling incoherent foolishness, he knew it would breakher heart. 

When the sky was at last showing faint dawn tints and the clamor had wornitself out perforce--because even the leaders were, after all, but men, andthere was a limit to their endurance--Manley entered the parlor, haggardenough, it is true, and bearing with him the stale odor of cigars longsince smoked, and of the baptism of bad whisky, but also with the airof conscious rectitude which sits so comically upon a man unused to thefeeling of virtue. 

As is so often the case when one fights alone the good fight and manages towin, he was chagrined to find himself immediately put upon the defensive. Val, as she speedily demonstrated, declined to look upon him as a hero, oras being particularly virtuous. She considered herself rather neglected andabused. She believed that he had stayed away because he was angry with heron account of her refusal to leave town, and she thought that was ratherbrutal of him. Also, her head ached from tears and lack of sleep, and shehated the town, the hotel--almost she hated Manley himself. 

Manley felt the rebuff of her chilling silence when he came in, and whenshe twitched herself loose from his embrace he came near regretting hisextreme virtue. He spent ten minutes trying to explain, without telling allof the truth, and he felt his good opinion of himself slipping from himbefore her inexorable disfavor. 

"Well, I don't blame you for not liking the town, Val, " he said at last, rather desperately. "But you mustn't judge the whole country by it. You'lllike the ranch, dear. You'll feel as if you were in another world--"

"I hope so, " Val interrupted quellingly. 

"We'll drive out there just as soon as we have breakfast. " He laid his handdiffidently upon her tumbled hair. "I _had_ to stay out there with thosefellows. I didn't want to--"

"I don't want any breakfast, " said Val, getting up and going over to thewindow--it would seem to avoid his caress. "The odor of that dining room isenough to make one fast forever. " She lifted the grimy lace curtain withher finger tips and looked disconsolately out upon the street. "It's just adirty, squalid little hamlet. I don't suppose the streets have beencleaned or the garbage removed from the back yards since the place wasfirst--founded. " She laughed shortly at the idea of "founding" a wretchedvillage like that, but she had no other word at hand. 

"_Arline_, " she remarked, in a tone of drawling recklessness. "Arlineswears. Did you know it? I suppose, of course, you do. She said somethingthat struck me as being shockingly true. She said I'm 'sure having a hellof a honeymoon. '" Then she bit her lips hard, because her eyelids werestinging with the tears she refused to shed in his presence. 

"Oh, Val!" From the sofa Manley stared contritely at her back. She mustfeel terrible, he thought, to bring herself to repeat that sentence--Val, so icily pure in her thoughts and her speech. 

Val was blinking her tawny eyes--like the eyes of a lion in color--at thestreet. Not for the world would she let him see that she wanted to cry! Afigure, blurred to indistinctness, appealed in a doorway nearly opposite, stood for a moment looking up at the reddened sky, and came across thestreet. As the tears were beaten back she saw and recognized him, with acurl of the lip. 

"Here comes your cowboy friend--from a saloon, of course. " Her voicewas lazily contemptuous. "Only his presence in the street was needed tocomplete the picture of desolation. He has been in a fight, judging fromhis face. It is all bruised and skinned, and one eye is swollen--ugh! Myguide, my adviser--is it possible, Manley, that you couldn't find a _nice_man to meet me at the train?" She turned from the disagreeable sight ofKent and faced her husband. "Are all the men like that? And are all thewomen like--Arline?"

Manley looked at her dumbly from the sofa. Would Val ever come tounderstand the place, and the people, he was wondering. 

She laughed suddenly. "I'm beginning to feel very sorry for Walt, " she saidirrelevantly, pointing to the easel and the expressionless crayon portraitstaring out from the gilt frame. "He has to stay in this room always. AndI believe another two hours would drive me hopelessly insane. " The wordcaught her attention. "Hope!" she laughed ironically. "What imbecile everthought of hope in the same breath with this place? What they really oughtto do is paint that 'Abandon-hope' admonition across the whole front of thedepot!"

Manley, because he had lifted his head too suddenly and so sent white-hotirons of pain clashing through his brain, turned sullen. "If you hate it asbad as all that, " he said, "why, there'll be a train for the East in abouttwo hours. "

Val stiffened perceptibly, though the petulance in her face changed tosomething wistful. "Do you mean--do you want me to go?" she asked verycalmly. 

Manley pressed his fingers hard against his temples. "You know I don't. Iwant you to stay and like the country, and be happy. But--the way you havebeen talking makes it seem--a-ah!" He dropped his tortured head upon hishands and did not trouble to finish what he had intended to say. Nervousstrain, lack of sleep, and a headache to begin with, were taking heavy tollof him. He could not argue with her; he could not do anything except wishhe were dead, or that his head would stop aching. 

Val took one of her unexpected changes of mood. She went up and laid hercold fingers lightly upon his temples, where she could see the bloodbeating savagely in the swollen veins. "What a little beast I am!" shemurmured contritely. "Shall I get you some coffee, dear? Or some headachetablets, or--You know a cold cloth helped you last evening. Lie down for alittle while. There's no hurry about starting, is there? I--I don't hatethe place so awfully, Manley. I'm just cross because I couldn't sleep forthe noise. Here's a cushion, dear. I think it's stuffed with scrap iron, for there doesn't seem to be anything soft about it except the invitationto 'slumber sweetly, ' in red and green silk; but anything is better thanthe head of that sofa in its natural state. "

She arranged the cushion to her own liking, if not to his, and when itwas done she bent down impulsively and kissed him on the cheek, blushingvividly the while. 

"I won't be nasty and cross any more, " she promised. "Now, I'm going tointerview Arline. I hear dishes rattling somewhere; perhaps I can get a cupof real coffee for you. " At the door she shook her finger at him playfully. "Don't you dare stir off that sofa while I'm gone, " she admonished. "And, remember, we're not going to leave town until your head stops aching--notif we stay here a week!"

She insisted upon bringing him coffee and toast upon a tray--a battered oldtray, purloined for that purpose from the saloon, if she had only knownit--and she informed him, with a pretty, domestic pride, that she had madethe toast herself. 

"Arline was going to lay slices of bread on top of the stove, " sheexplained. "She said she always makes toast that way, and no one could tellthe difference! I never heard of such a thing--did you, Manley? But I'vebeen attending a cooking school ever since you left Fern Hill. I didn'ttell you--I wanted it for a surprise. I could have done better with thetoast before a wood fire--I think poor Arline was nearly distracted at theway I poked coals down from the grate; but she didn't say anything. Isn'tit funny, to have cream in cans! I don't suppose it ever saw a cow--do you?The coffee's pretty bad, isn't it? But wait until we get home! I can makelovely coffee--if you'll get me a percolator. You will, won't you? And Ilearned now to make the most delicious fruit salad, just before I left. Acousin of Mrs. Forman's taught me how. Could you drink another cup, dear?"

Manley could not, and she deplored the poor quality, although shegenerously absolved Arline from blame, because there seemed so much to doin that kitchen. She refused to take any breakfast herself, telling himgayly that the odor in the kitchen was both food and drink. 

Because he understood a little of her loathing for the place, Manley liedheroically about his headache, so that within an hour they were leavingtown, with the two great trunks roped securely to the buckboard behind theseat, and with Val's suitcase placed flat in the front, where she couldrest her feet upon it. Val was so happy at the prospect of getting awayfrom the town that she actually threw a kiss in the direction of Arline, standing with her frowsy head, her dough-spotted apron, and her tired facein the parlor door. 

Her mood changed immediately, however, for she had no more than turned fromwaving her hand at Arline, when they met Kent, riding slowly up the streetwith his hat tilted over the eye most swollen. Without a doubt he had seenher waving and smiling, and so he must have observed the instant cooling ofher manner. He nodded to Manley and lifted his hat while he looked at herfull; and Val, in the arrogant pride of virtuous young womanhood, let hergolden-brown eyes dwell impersonally upon his face; let her white, roundchin dip half an inch downward, and then looked past him as if he were apost by the roadside. Afterwards she smiled maliciously when she saw, witha swift, sidelong glance, how he scowled and spurred unnecessarily his graygelding. 

CHAPTER V

COLD SPRING RANCH

For almost three years the letters from Manley had been headed "ColdSpring Ranch. " For quite as long Val had possessed a mental picture of theplace--a picture of a gurgly little brook with rocks and watercress anddistracting little pools the size of a bathtub, and with a great, frowningboulder--a cliff, almost--at the head. The brook bubbled out and formeda basin in the shadow of the rock. Around it grew trees, unnamed in thepicture, it is true, but trees, nevertheless. Below the spring stood apicturesque little cottage. A shack, Manley had written, was but a synonymfor a small cottage, and Val had many small cottages in mind, from whichshe sketched one into her picture. The sun shone on it, and the westernbreezes flapped white curtains in the windows, and there was a porch whereshe would swing her hammock and gaze out over the great, beautiful country, fascinating in its very immensity. 

Somewhere beyond the cottage--"shack, " she usually corrected herself--werethe corrals; they were as yet rather impressionistic; high, round, mysterious inclosures forming an effective, if somewhat hazy, background tothe picture. She left them to work out their attractive details upon closeracquaintance, for at most they were merely the background. The front yard, however, she dwelt upon, and made aglow with sturdy, bright-hued flowers. Manley had that spring planted sweet peas, and poppies, and pansies, andother things, he wrote her, and they had come up very nicely. Afterward, in a postscript, he answered her oft-repeated questions about the flowergarden:

The flowers aren't doing as well as they might. They need your tender care. I don't have much time to pet them along. The onions are doing pretty well, but they need weeding badly. 

In spite of that, the flowers bloomed luxuriantly in her mental picture, though she conscientiously remembered that they weren't doing as well asthey might. They were weedy and unkempt, she supposed, but a little timeand care would remedy that; and was she not coming to be the mistress ofall this, and to make everything beautiful? Besides, the spring, and thebrook which ran from it, and the trees which shaded it, were the chiefattractions. 

Perhaps she betrayed a lack of domesticity because she had not been ableto "see" the interior of the cottage--"shack"--very clearly. Sunny rooms, white curtains, bright cushions and books, pictures and rugs mingledtogether rather confusingly in her mind when she dwelt upon the inside ofher future home. It would be bright, and cozy, and "homy, " she knew. Shewould love it because it would be hers and Manley's, and she could do withit what she would. She bothered about that no more than she did about thedresses she would be wearing next year. 

Cold Spring Ranch! Think of the allurement of that name, just as itstands, without any disconcerting qualification whatever! Any girl withyellow-brown hair and yellow-brown eyes to match, and a dreamy temperamentthat beautifies everything her imagination touches, would be sure to builda veritable Eve's garden around those three small words. 

With that picture still before her mental vision, clear as if she had allher life been familiar with it in reality, she rode beside Manley for threeweary hours, across a wide, wide prairie which looked perfectly level whenyou viewed it as a whole, but which proved all hills and hollows whenyou drove over it. During those three hours they passed not one humanhabitation after the first five miles were behind them. There had been aranch, back there against a reddish-yellow bluff. Val had gazed upon it, and then turned her head away, distressed because human beings couldconsent to live in such unattractive surroundings. It was bad in its way asHope, she thought, but did not say, because Manley was talking about hiscattle, and she did not want to interrupt him. 

After that there had been no houses of any sort. There was a barbed-wirefence stretching away and away until the posts were mere pencil linesagainst the blue, where the fence dipped over the last hill before the skybent down and kissed the earth. 

The length of that fence was appalling in a vague, wordless way, Valunconsciously drew closer to her husband when she looked at it, andshivered in spite of the midsummer heat. 

"You're getting tired. " Manley put his arm around her and held her there. 

"We're over half-way now. A little longer and we'll be home. " Then hebethought him that she might want some preparation for that home-coming. "You mustn't expect much, little wife. It's a bachelor's house, so far. You'll have to do some fixing before it will suit you. You don't lookforward to anything like Fern Hill, do you?"

Val laughed, and bent solicitously over the suitcase, which her feet hadmarred. "Of course I don't. Nothing out here is like Fern Hill. I know ourranch is different from anything I ever knew--but I know just how it willbe, and how everything will look. "

"Oh! Do you?" Manley looked at her a bit anxiously. 

"For three years, " Val reminded him, "you have been describing thingsto me. You told me what it was like when you first took the place. Youdescribed everything, from Cold Spring Coulee to the house you built, andthe spring under the rock wall, and even the meadow lark's nest you foundin the weeds. Of _course_ I know. "

"It's going to seem pretty rough, at first, " he observed ratherapologetically. 

"Yes--but I shall not mind that. I want it to be rough. I'm tired to deathof the smug smoothness of my life so far. Oh, if you only knew how I havehated Fern Hill, these last three years, especially since I graduated. Justthe same petty little lives lived in the same petty little way, day in andday out. Every Sunday the class in Sunday school, and the bells ringingand the same little walk of four blocks there and back. Every Tuesday andFriday the club meeting--the Merry Maids, and the Mascot, both just alike, where you did the same things. And the same round of calls with mamma, on the same people, twice a month the year round. And the little socialfestivities--ah, Manley, if you only knew how I tong for something roughand real in my life!" It was very nearly what she said to the tired-facedteacher on the train. 

"Well, if that's what you want, you've come to the right place, " he toldher dryly. 

Later, when they drew close to a red coulee rim which he said was the farside of Cold Spring Coulee, she forgot how tired she was, and felt everynerve quiver with eagerness. 

Later still, when in the glare of a July sun they drove around a low knoll, dipped into a wide, parched coulee, and then came upon a barren littlehabitation inclosed in a meager fence of the barbed wire she thought sodetestable, she shut her eyes mentally to something she could not quitebring herself to face. 

He lifted her out and tumbled the great trunks upon the ground before hedrove on to the corrals. "Here's the key, " he said, "if you want to go in. I won't be more than a minute or two. " He did not look into her face whenhe spoke. 

Val stood just inside the gate and tried to adjust all this to her mentalpicture. There was the front yard, for instance. A few straggling vinesagainst the porch, and a sickly cluster or two of blossoms--those were thesweet peas, surely. The sun-baked bed of pale-green plants without so muchas a bud of promise, she recognized, after a second glance, as the poppies. For the rest, there were weeds against the fence, sun-ripened grass troddenflat, yellow, gravelly patches where nothing grew--and a glaring, burningsun beating down upon it all. 

The cottage--never afterward did she think of it by that name, but alwaysas a shack--was built of boards placed perpendicularly, with battens nailedover the cracks to keep out the wind and the snow. At one side was a"lean-to" kitchen, and on the other side was the porch that was justa narrow platform with a roof over it. It was not wide enough for arocking-chair, to say nothing of swinging a hammock. In the first hastyinspection this seemed to be about all. She was still hesitating before thedoor when Manley came back from putting up the horses. 

"I'm afraid your flowers are a lost cause, " he remarked cheerfully. "Theywere looking pretty good two or three weeks ago. This hot weather has driedthem up. Next year we'll have water down here to the house. All thesethings take time. "

"Oh, of course they do. " Val managed to smile into his eyes. "Let's see howmany dishes you left dirty; bachelors always leave their dishes unwashed onthe table, don't they?"

"Sometimes--but I generally wash mine. " He led the way into the house, which smelled hot and close, with the odor of food long since cookedand eaten, before he threw all the windows open. The front room wasclean--after a man's idea of cleanliness. The floor was covered with anexceedingly dusty carpet, and a rug or two. Her latest photograph wasnailed to the wall; and when Val saw it she broke into hysterical laughter. 

"You've nailed your colors to the mast, " she cried, and after that it wasall a joke. The home-made couch, with the calico cushions and the cowhidespread, was a matter for mirth. She sat down upon it to try it, and wasinformed that chicken wire makes a fine spring. The rickety table, withtobacco, magazines, and books placed upon it in orderly piles, wassomething to smile over. The chairs, and especially the one cane rockerwhich went sidewise over the floor if you rocked in it long enough, werepronounced original. 

In the kitchen the same masculine idea of cleanliness and order obtained. The stove was quite red, but it had been swept clean. The table was pushedagainst the only window there, and the back part was filled with glasspreserve jars, cans, and a loaf of bread wrapped carefully in paper; butthe oilcloth cover was clean--did it not show quite plainly the marks ofthe last washing? Two frying pans were turned bottom up on an obscure tablein an obscure corner of the room, and a zinc water pail stood beside them. 

There were other details which impressed themselves upon her shrinkingbrain, and though she still insisted upon smiling at everything, she stoodin the middle of the room holding up her skirts quite unconsciously, as ifshe were standing at a muddy street crossing, wondering how in the worldshe was ever going to reach the Other side. 

"Isn't it all--deliciously--primitive?" she asked, in a weak little voice, when the smile would stay no longer. "I--love it, dear. " That was a lie;more, she was not in the habit of fibbing for the sake of politeness oranything else, so that the words stood for a good deal. 

Manley looked into the zinc water pail, took it up, and started for anouter door, rattling the tin dipper as he went. "Want to go up to thespring?" he queried, over his shoulder, "Water's the first thing--I'mhorribly thirsty. "

Val turned to follow him. "Oh, yes--the spring!" She stopped, however, assoon as she had spoken. "No, dear. There'll be plenty of other times. I'llstay here. "

He gave her a glance bright with love and blind happiness in her presencethere, and went off whistling and rattling the pail at his side. 

Val did not even watch him go. She stood still in the kitchen and looked atthe table, and at the stove, and at the upturned frying pans. She watchedtwo great horseflies buzzing against a window-pane, and when she couldendure that no longer, she went into the front room and stared vacantlyaround at the bare walls. When she saw her picture again, nailedfast beside the kitchen door, her face lost a little of its frozenblankness--enough so that her lips quivered until she bit them intosteadiness. 

She went then to the door and stood looking dully out into the parchedyard, and at the wizened little pea vines clutching feebly at theirwhite-twine trellis. Beyond stretched the bare hills with the waveringbrown line running down the nearest one--the line that she knew was thetrail from town. She was guilty of just one rebellious sentence before shestruggled back to optimism. 

"I said I wanted it to be rough, but I didn't mean--why, this is justsqualid!" She looked down the coulee and glimpsed the river flowing calmlypast the mouth of it, a majestic blue belt fringed sparsely with green. It must be a mile away, but it relieved wonderfully the monotony of brownhills, and the vivid coloring brightened her eyes. She heard Manley enterthe kitchen, set down the pail of water, and come on to where she stood. 

"I'd forgotten you said we could see the river from here, " she told him, smiling over her shoulder. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I don't suppose, though, there's a boat within millions of miles. "

"Oh, there's a boat down there. It leaks, though. I just use it for ducks, close to shore. Admiring our view? Great, don't you think?"

Val clasped her hands before her and let her gaze travel again over thesweep of rugged hills. "It's--wonderful. I thought I knew, but I see Ididn't. I feel very small, Manley; does one ever grow up to it?"

He seemed dimly to catch the note of utter desolation. "You'll get used toall that, " he assured her. "I thought I'd reached the jumping-off place, atfirst. But now--you couldn't dog me outa the country. "

He was slipping into the vernacular, and Val noticed it, and wondered dullyif she would ever do likewise. She had not yet admitted to herself thatManley was different. She had told herself many times that it would takeweeks to wipe out the strangeness born of three years' separation. He wasthe same, of course; everything else was new and--different. That was all. He seemed intensely practical, and he seemed to feel that his love-makinghad all been done by letter, and that nothing now remained save thebusiness of living. So, when he told her to rest, and that he would getdinner and show her how a bachelor kept house, she let him go with no replysave that vague, impersonal smile which Kent had encountered at the depot. 

While he rattled things about in the kitchen, she stood still in thedoorway with her fingers doubled into tight little fists, and stared outover the great, treeless, unpeopled land which had swallowed her alive. Shetried to think--and then, in another moment, she was trying not to think. 

Glancing quickly over her shoulder, to make sure Manley was too busy tofollow her, she went off the porch and stood uncertain in the parchedinclosure which was the front yard. 

"I may as well see it all, and be done, " she whispered, and went stealthilyaround the corner of the house, holding up her skirts as she had done inthe kitchen. There was a dim path beaten in the wiry grass--a path whichstarted at the kitchen door and wound away up the coulee. She followed it. Undoubtedly it would lead her to the spring; beyond that she refused to lether thoughts travel. 

In five minutes--for she went slowly--she stopped beside a stock-trampledpool of water and yellow mud. A few steps farther on, a barrel had beensunk in the ground at the base of a huge gray rock; a barrel which filledslowly and spilled the overflow into the mud. There was also a trough, andthere was a barrier made of poles and barbed wire to keep the cattle fromthe barrel. One crawled between two wires, it would seem, to dip up waterfor the house. There were no trees--not real trees. There were somechokecherry bushes higher than her head, and there were other bushes thatdid not look particularly enlivening. 

With a smile of bitter amusement, she tucked her skirts tightly around her, crept through the fence, and filled a chipped granite cup which stood upona rock ledge, and drank slowly. Then she laughed aloud. 

"The water really _is_ cold, " she said. "Anywhere else it would bedelicious. And that's a spring, I suppose. " Mercilessly she was strippingher mind of her illusions, and was clothing it in the harsher weave ofreality. "All these hills are Manley's--our ranch. " She took another sipand set down the cup. "And so Cold Spring Ranch means--all this. "

Down the coulee she heard Manley call. She stood still, pushing back afallen lock of fine, yellow hair. She turned toward the sound, and the sunin her eyes turned them yellow as the hair above them. She was beautiful, in an odd, white-and-gold way. If her eyes had been blue, or gray--or evenbrown--she would have been merely pretty; but as they were, that amber tintwhere one looked for something else struck one unexpectedly and made herwhole face unforgettably lovely. However, the color of her eyes and herhair did not interest her then, or make life any easier. She was quiteordinarily miserable and homesick, as she went reluctantly back along thegrassy trails The odor of fried bacon came up to her, and she hated bacon. She hated everything. 

"I've been to the spring, " she called out, resolutely cheerful, as soon asshe came in sight of Manley, waiting in the kitchen door; she ran towardhim lightly. "However does the water keep so deliciously cool through thishot weather? I don't wonder you call this Cold Spring Ranch. "

Manley straightened proudly. "I'm glad you like it; I was afraid you mightnot, just at first. But you're the right stuff--I might have known it. Notevery woman could come out here and appreciate this country right at thestart. "

Val stopped at the steps, panting a little from her run, and smiledunflinchingly up into his face. 

CHAPTER VI

MANLEY'S FIRE GUARD

Hot sunlight, winds as hot, a shimmering heat which distorted objects at adistance and made the sky line a dazzling, wavering ribbon of faded blue;and then the dull haze of smoke which hung over the land, and, withouttempering the heat, turned the sun into a huge coppery balloon, whichdrifted imperceptibly from the east to the west, and at evening timesettled softly down upon a parched hilltop and disappeared, leaving behindit an ominous red glow as of hidden fires. 

When the wind blew, the touch of it seared the face, as the smoke tangassailed the nostrils. All the world was a weird, unnatural tint, hard toname, never to be forgotten. The far horizons drew steadily closer as thedays passed slowly and thickened the veil of smoke. The distant mountainsdrew daily back into dimmer distance; became an obscure, formless blotagainst the sky, and vanished completely. The horizon crouched then uponthe bluffs across the river, moved up to the line of trees along its banks, blotted them out one day, and impudently established itself half-way up thecoulee. 

Time ceased to be measured accurately; events moved slowly in an unrealworld of sultry heat and smoke and a red sun wading heavily through thecopper-brown sky from the east to the west, and a moon as red whichfollowed meekly after. 

Men rode uneasily here and there, and when they met they talked of prairiefires and of fire guards and the direction of the wind, and of the faintprospect of rain. Cattle, driven from their accustomed feeding grounds, wandered aimlessly over the still-unburned range, and lowed often in thenight as they drifted before the flame-heated wind. 

Fifteen miles to the east of Cold Spring Coulee, the Wishbone outfitwatched uneasily the deepening haze. Kent and Bob Royden were put to ridingthe range from the river north and west, and Polycarp Jenks, who had takena claim where were good water and some shelter, and who never seemed tobe there for more than a few hours at a time, because of his boundlesscuriosity, wandered about on his great, raw-boned sorrel with the whitelegs, and seemed always to have the latest fire news on the tip of histongue, and always eager to impart it to somebody. 

To the northwest there was the Double Diamond, also sleeping with both eyesopen, so to speak. They also had two men out watching the range, thoughthe fires were said to be all across the river. But there was the railroadseaming the country straight through the grassland, and though the companywas prompt at plowing fire guards, contract work would always bearwatching, said the stockmen, and with the high winds that prevailed therewas no telling what might happen. 

So Fred De Garmo and Bill Madison patrolled the country in rather desultoryfashion, if the truth be known. They liked best to ride to the north andeast--which, while following faithfully the railroad and the danger line, would bring them eventually to Hope, where they never failed to stop aslong as they dared. For, although they never analyzed their feelings, theyknew that as long as they kept their jobs and their pay was forthcoming, afew miles of blackened range concerned them personally not at all. Still, barring a fondness for the trail which led to town, they were notunfaithful to their trust. 

One day Kent and Polycarp met on the brink of a deep coulee, and, as is theway of men who ride the dim trails, they stopped to talk a bit. 

Polycarp, cracking his face across the middle with his habitual grin, straightened his right leg to its full length, slid his hand withdifficulty into his pocket, brought up a dirty fragment of "plug" tobacco, looked it over inquiringly, and pried off the corner with his teeth. Whenhe had rolled it comfortably into his cheek and had straightened his legand replaced the tobacco in his pocket, he was "all set" and ready forconversation. 

Kent had taken the opportunity to roll a cigarette, though smoking on therange was a weakness to be indulged in with much care. He pinched out theblaze of his match, as usual, and then spat upon it for added safety beforethrowing it away. 

"If this heat doesn't let up, " he remarked, "the grass is going to blaze upfrom sunburn. "

"It won't need to, if you ask me. I wouldn't be su'prised to see this hullrange afire any time. Between you an' me, Kenneth, them Double Diamondfellers ain't watching it as close as they might. I was away over Dry Creekway yesterday, and I seen where there was two different fires got throughthe company's guards, and kited off across the country. It jest _happened_that the grass give out in that red day soil, and starved 'em both out. They wa'n't _put_ out. I looked close all around, and there wasn't nary atrack of man or horse. That's their business--ridin' line on the railroad. The section men's been workin' off down the other way, where a culvert gotscorched up pretty bad. By granny, Fred 'n' Bill Madison spend might' nighall their time ridin' the trail to town. They're might' p'ticular aboutwatchin' the railroad between the switches--_he-he!_"

"That's something for the Double Diamond to worry over, " Kent rebuffed. Hehated that sort of gossip which must speak ill of somebody. "Our winterrange lays mostly south and east; we could stop a fire between here and theDouble Diamond, even if they let one get past 'em. "

Polycarp regarded him cunningly with his little, slitlike eyes. "Mebbe youcould, " he said doubtfully. "And then again, mebbe you couldn't. Oncetit got past Cold Spring--" He shook his wizened head slowly, leaned, andexpectorated gravely. 

"Man Fleetwood's keeping tab pretty close over that way. "

Polycarp gave a grunt that was half a chuckle. "Man Fleetwood's keeping tabon what runs down his gullet, " he corrected. "I seen him an' his wife outburnin' guards t' other day--over on his west line--and, by granny, itwouldn't stop nothing! A toad could jump it--_he-he!_" He sent anotherstream of tobacco juice afar, with the grave air as before. 

"And I told him so. 'Man, ' I says, 'what you think you're doing?'

"'Buildin' a fire guard, ' he says. 'My wife, Mr. Jenks. '

"'Polycarp Jenks is my cognomen, ' I says. 'And I don't want no misterin'in mine. Polycarp's good enough for me, ' I says, and I took off my hat andbowed to 'is wife. Funny kinda eyes, she's got--ever take notice? Yeller, by granny! first time I ever seen yeller eyes in a human's face. Mebbe itwas the sun in 'em, but they sure was yeller. I dunno as they hurt herlooks none, either. Kinda queer lookin', but when you git used to 'em youkinda like 'em. 

"'N' I says: 'Tain't half wide enough, nor a third'--spoke right up to 'im!I was thinkin' of the hull blamed country, and I didn't care how he tookit. 'Any good, able-bodied wind'll jump a fire across that guard so quickit won't reelize there was any there, ' I says. 

"Man didn't like it none too well, either. He says to me: 'That guard'llstop any fire I ever saw, ' and I got right back at him--_he-he!_ 'Man, ' Isays, 'you ain't never saw a prairie fire'--just like that. 'You wait, ' Isays, 'till the real thing comes along. We ain't had any fires since youcome into the country, ' I says, 'and you don't know what they're like. Now, you take my advice and plow another four or five furrows--and plow 'em out, seventy-five or a hundred feet from here, ' I says, 'an' make sure yougit all the grass burned off between--and do it on a still day, ' I says. 'You'll burn up the hull country if you keep on this here way you'redoing, ' I told him--straight out, just like that. 'And when you do it, ' Isays, 'you better let somebody know, so's they can come an' help, ' I says. ''Tain't any job a man oughta tackle alone, ' I says to him. 'Git help, Man, git help. '

"Well, by granny--_he-he!_ Man's wife brustled up at me like a--a--" Hesearched his brain for a simile, and failed to find one. "'I have beenhelping Manley, Mr. Polycarp Jenks, ' she says to me, 'and I flatter myselfI have done as well as any _man_ could do. ' And, by granny! the way themyeller eyes of hern blazed at me--_he-he!_ I had to laugh, jest to lookat her. Dressed jest like a city girl, by granny! with ruffles on herskirts--to ketch afire if she wasn't mighty keerful!--and a big straw hattied down with a veil, and kid gloves on her hands, and her yellerhair kinda fallin' around her face--and them yeller eyes snappin' likeflames--by granny! if she didn't make as purty a picture as I ever wantto set eyes on! Slim and straight, jest like a storybook woman--_he-he!_'Course, she was all smoke an' dirt; a big flake of burned grass was on herhair, I took notice, and them ruffles was black up to her knees--_he-he!_And she had a big smut on her cheek--but she was right there with her stackof blues, by granny! Settin' into the game like a--a--" He leaned andspat "But burnin' guards ain't no work for a woman to do, an' I told Manso--straight out. 'You git help, ' I says. 'I see you're might' near throughwith this here strip, ' I says, 'an' I'm in a hurry, or I'd stay, rightnow. ' And, by granny! if that there wife of Man's didn't up an' hit meanother biff--_he-he!_

"'Thank you very much, ' she says to me, like ice water. 'When we needyour help, we'll be sure to let you know--but at present, ' she says, 'wecouldn't think of troubling you. ' And then, by granny! she turns rightaround and smiles up at me--_he-he!_ Made me feel like somebody'd tickledm' ear with a spear of hay when I was asleep, by granny! Never feltanything like it--not jest with somebody smilin' at me. 

"'Polycarp Jenks, ' she says to me, 'we do appreciate what you've told us, and I believe you're right, ' she says. 'But don't insiniwate I'm not asgood a fighter as any man who ever breathed, ' she says. 'Manley has anotherof his headaches to-day--going to town always gives him a sick headache, 'she says, 'and I've done nearly all of this my own, lone self, ' she says. 'And I'm horribly proud of it, and I'll never forgive you for saying I--'And then, by granny! if she didn't begin to blink them eyes, and I feltlike a--a--" He put the usual period to his hesitation. 

"Between you an' _me_, Kenneth, " he added, looking at Kent slyly, "sheain't having none too easy a time. Man's gone back to drinkin'--I knowedall the time he wouldn't stay braced up very long--lasted about six weeks, from all I c'n hear. Mebbe she reely thinks it's jest headaches ails himwhen he comes back from town--I dunno. You can't never tell what idees awoman's got tacked away under her hair--from all I c'n gether. I don'tp'tend to know nothing about 'em--don't want to know--_he-he!_ But Iguess, " he hinted cunningly, "I know as much about 'em as you do--hey, Kenneth? You don't seem to chase after 'em none, yourself--_he-he!_"

"Whereabouts did Man run his guards?" asked Kent, passing over theinvitation to personal confessions. 

Polycarp gave a grunt of disdain. "Just on the west rim of his coulee. About forty rod of six-foot guard, and slanted so it'll shoot a fire rightinto high grass at the head of the coulee and send it kitin' over this way. That's supposin' it turns a fire, which it won't. Six feet--a fall likethis here! Why, I never see grass so thick on this range--did you?"

"I wonder, did he burn that extra guard?" Kent was keeping himself rigidlyto the subject of real importance. 

"No, by granny! he didn't--not unless he done it since yest'day. He wentto town for suthin, and he might' nigh forgot to go home--_he-he!_ He wasthere yest'day about three o'clock, an' I says to him--"

"Well, so-long; I got to, be moving. " Kent gathered up the reins and wenthis way, leaving Polycarp just in the act of drawing his "plug" from hispocket, by his usual laborious method, in mental preparation for anotherhalf hour of talk. 

"If you're ridin' over that way, Kenneth, you better take a look at Man'sguard, " he called after him. "A good mile of guard, along there, wouldhelp a lot if a fire got started beyond. The way he fixed it, it ain't noaccount at all. "

Kent proved by a gesture that he heard him, and rode on without turning tolook back. Already his form was blurred as Polycarp gazed after him, andin another minute or two he was blotted out completely by the smoke veil, though he rode upon the level. Polycarp watched him craftily, though therewas no need, until he was completely hidden, then he went on, ruminatingupon the faults of his acquaintances. 

Kent had no intention of riding over to Cold Spring. He had not been theresince Manley's marriage, though he had been a frequent visitor before, andunless necessity drove him there, it would be long before he faced againthe antagonism of Mrs. Fleetwood. Still, he was mentally uncomfortable, andhe felt much resentment against Polycarp Jenks because he had caused thatdiscomfort. What was it to him, if Manley had gone bock to drinking? Heasked the question more than once, and he answered always that it wasnothing to him, of course. Still, he wished futilely that he had not beenquite so eager to cover up Manley's weakness and deceive the girl. He oughtto have given her a chance--

A cinder like a huge black snowflake struck him suddenly upon the cheek. Helooked up, startled, and tried to see farther into the haze which closedhim round. It seemed to him, now that his mind was turned from his musings, that the smoke was thicker, the smell of burning grass stronger, and thebreath of wind hotter upon his face. He turned, looked away to the west, fancied there a tumbled blackness new to his sight, and put his horse to arun. If there were fire close, then every second counted; and as he racedover the uneven prairie he fumbled with the saddle string that held asodden sack tied fast to the saddle, that he might lose no time. 

The cinders grew thicker, until the air was filled with them, like asnowstorm done in India ink. A little farther and he heard a faintcrackling; topped a ridge and saw not far ahead, a dancing, yellow line. His horse was breathing heavily with the pace he was keeping, but Kent, swinging away from the onrush of flame and heat, spurred him to a greaterspeed. They neared the end of the crackling, red line, and as Kent swung inbehind it upon the burned ground, he saw several men beating steadily atthe flames. 

He was hardly at work when Polycarp came running up and took his placebeside him; but beyond that Kent paid no attention to the others, though heheard and recognized the voice of Fred De Garmo calling out to some one. The smoke which rolled up in uneven volumes as the wind lifted it and boreit away, or let it suck backward as it veered for an instant, blinded himwhile he fought. He heard other men gallop up, and after a little some oneclattered up with a wagon filled with barrels of water. He ran to wethis sack, and saw that it was Blumenthall himself, foreman of the DoubleDiamond, who drove the team. 

"Lucky it ain't as windy as it was yesterday and the day before, "Blumenthall cried out, as Kent stepped upon the brake block to reach abarrel. "It'd sweep the whole country if it was. "

Kent nodded, and ran back to the fire, trailing the dripping sack afterhim. As he passed Polycarp and another, he heard Polycarp saying somethingabout Man Fleetwood's fire guard; but he did not stop to hear what it was. Polycarp was always talking, and he didn't always keep too closely tofacts. 

Then, of a sudden, he saw men dimly when he glanced down the leaping fireline, and he knew that the fire was almost conquered. Another frenziedminute or two, and he was standing in a group of men, who dropped theircharred, blackened fragments of blanket and bags, and began to feel fortheir smoking material, while they stamped upon stray embers which lookedlive enough to be dangerous. 

"Well, she's out, " said a voice, "But it did look for a while as if it'dget away in spite of us. "

Kent turned away, wiping an eye which held a cinder fast under the lid. Itwas Fred De Garmo who spoke. 

"If somebody'd been watchin' the railroad a leetle might closer--" Polycarpbegan, in his thin, rasping voice. 

Fred cut him short. "I thought you laid it to Man Fleetwood, burning fireguards, " he retorted. "Keep on, and you'll get it right pretty soon. Thisnever come from the railroad; you can gamble on that. "

Blumenthall had left his team and come among them. "If you want to know howit started, I can tell you. Somebody dropped a match, or a cigarette, orsomething, by the trail up here a ways. I saw where it started when I wentto Cold Spring after the last load of water. And if I knew who it was--"

Polycarp launched his opinion first, as usual. "Well, I don't _know_ whodone it--but, by granny! I can might' nigh guess who it was. There's jestone man that I know of been traveling that trail lately when he wa'n't inhis sober senses--"

Here Manley Fleetwood rode up to them, coughing at the soot his horsekicked up. "Say! you fellows come on over to the house and have somethingto eat--and, " he added significantly, "something _wet_. I told my wife, when I saw the fire, to make plenty of coffee, for fighting fire's hungrywork, let me tell. Come on--no hanging back, you know. There'll be lots ofcoffee, and I've got a quart of something better cached in the haystack!"

As he had said, fighting fire is hungry work, and none save Blumenthall, who was dyspeptic and only ate twice a day, and then of certain foodsprepared by himself, declined the invitation. 

CHAPTER VII

VAL'S NEW DUTIES

To Val the days of heat and smoke, and the isolation, had made life seemunreal, like a dream which holds one fast and yet is absurd and utterlyimprobable. Her past was pushed so far from her that she could not evenlong for it as she had done during the first few weeks. There were nightsof utter desolation, when Manley was in town upon some errand whichprevented his speedy return--nights when the coyotes howled much louderthan usual, and she could not sleep for the mysterious snapping andcreaking about the shack, but lay shivering with fear until dawn; but notfor worlds would she have admitted to Manley her dread of staying alone. She believed it to be necessary, or he would not require it of her, and shewanted to be all that he expected her to be. She was very sensitive, inthose days, about doing her whole duty as a wife--the wife of a Westernrancher. 

For that reason, when Manley shouted to her the news of the fire as hegalloped past the shack, and told her to have something for the men to eatwhen the fire was out, she never thought of demurring, or explaining tohim that there was scarcely any wood, and that she could not cook a mealwithout fuel. Instead, she waved her hand to him and let him go; and whenhe was quite out of sight she went up to the corrals to see if she couldfind another useless pole, or a broken board or two which her slightstrength would be sufficient to break up with the axe. Till she came toMontana, Val had never taken an axe in her hands; but its use was onlyone of the many things she must learn, of which she had all her life beenignorant. 

There was an old post there, lying beside a rusty, overturned plow. Morethan once she had stopped and eyed it speculatively, and the day before shehad gone so far as to lift an end of it tentatively; but she had foundit very heavy, and she had also disturbed a lot of black bugs that wentscurrying here and there, so that she was forced to gather her skirts closeabout her and run for her life. 

Where Manley had built his hayrack she had yesterday discovered some endsof planking hidden away in the rank, ripened weeds and grass. She wentthere now, but there were no more, look closely as she might. She circledthe evil-smelling stable in discouragement, picked up one short piece ofrotten board, and came back to the post. As she neared it she involuntarilycaught her skirts and held them close, in terror of the black bugs. 

She eyed it with extreme disfavor, and finally ventured to poke it with herslipper toe; one lone bug scuttled out and away in the tall weeds. Withthe piece of board she turned it over, stared hard at the yellowed grassbeneath, discovered nothing so very terrifying after all, and, in puredesperation, dragged the post laboriously down to the place where had beenthe woodpile. Then, lifting the heavy axe, she went awkwardly to workupon it, and actually succeeded, in the course of half an hour or so, inworrying an armful of splinters off it. 

She started a fire, and then she had to take the big zinc pail and carrysome water down from the spring before she could really begin to cookanything. Manley's work, every bit of it--but then Manley was so very busy, and he couldn't remember all these little things, and Val hated to keepreminding him. Theoretically, Manley objected to her chopping wood orcarrying water, and always seemed to feel a personal resentment when hediscovered her doing it. Practically, however, he was more and more oftenmaking it necessary for her to do these things. 

That is why he returned with the fire fighters and found Val just layingthe cloth upon the table, which she had moved into the front room so thatthere would be space to seat her guests at all four sides. He frowned whenhe looked in and saw that they must wait indefinitely, and her cheeks tookon a deeper shade of pink. 

"Everything will be ready in ten minutes, " she hurriedly assured him. "Howmany are there, dear?"

"Eight, counting myself, " he answered gruffly. "Get some clean towels, andwe'll go up to the spring to wash; and try and have dinner ready when weget back--we're half starved. " With the towels over his arm, he led the wayup to the spring. He must have taken the trail which led past the haystack, for he returned in much better humor, and introduced the men to his wifewith the genial air of a host who loves to entertain largely. 

Val stood back and watched them file in to the table and seat themselveswith a noisy confusion. Unpolished they were, in clothes and manner, thoughshe dimly appreciated the way in which they refrained from looking at hertoo intently, and the conscious lowering of their voices while they talkedamong themselves. 

They did, however, glance at her surreptitiously while she was movingquietly about, with her flushed cheeks and her yellow-brown hair fallingbecomingly down at the temples because she had not found a spare minute inwhich to brush it smooth, and her dainty dress and crisp, white apron. Shewas not like the women they were accustomed to meet, and they paid her thehigh tribute of being embarrassed by her presence. 

She poured coffee until all the cups were full, replenished the bread plateand brought more butter, and hunted the kitchen over for the can opener, to punch little holes in another can of condensed cream; and she ratherastonished her guests by serving it in a beautiful cut-glass pitcherinstead of the can in which it was bought. 

They handled the pitcher awkwardly because of their mental uneasiness, and Val shared with them their fear of breaking it, and was guilty of anaudible sigh of relief when at last it found safety upon the table. 

So perturbed was she that even when she decided that she could do no morefor their comfort and retreated to the kitchen, she failed to realize thatthe one extra plate meant an absent guest, and not a miscount in placingthem, as she fancied. 

She remembered that she would need plenty of hot water to wash all thosedishes, and the zinc pail was empty; it always was, it seemed to her, nomatter how often she filed it. She took the tin dipper out of it, so thatit would not rattle and betray her purpose to Manley, sitting just insidethe door with his back toward her, and tiptoed quite guiltily out of thekitchen. Once well away from the shack, she ran. 

She reached the spring quite out of breath, and she actually bumped intoa man who stood carefully rinsing a bloodstained handkerchief under theoverflow from the horse trough. She gave a little scream, and the pail wentrolling noisily down the steep bank and lay on its side in the mud. 

Kent turned and looked at her, himself rather startled by the unexpectedcollision. Involuntarily he threw out his hand to steady her. "How do youdo, Mrs. Fleetwood?" he said, with all the composure he could muster to hisaid. "I'm afraid I scared you. My nose got to bleeding--with the heat, Iguess. I just now managed to stop it. " He did not consider it necessary toexplain his presence, but he did feel that talking would help her recoverher breath and her color. "It's a plumb nuisance to have the nosebleed somuch, " he added plaintively. 

Val was still trembling and staring at him with her odd, yellow-brown eyes. He glanced at her swiftly, and then bent to squeeze the water from hishandkerchief; but his trained eyes saw her in all her dainty allurement;saw how the coppery sunlight gave a strange glint to her hair, and howher eyes almost matched it in color, and how the pupils had widened withfright. He saw, too, something wistful in her face, as though life wasnone too kind to her, and she had not yet abandoned her first sensation ofpained surprise that it should treat her so. 

"That's what I get for running, " she said, still panting a little as shewatched him. "I thought all the men were at the table, you see. Your dinnerwill be cold, Mr. Burnett. "

Kent was a bit surprised at the absence of cold hauteur in her manner; hismemory of her had been so different. 

"Well, I'm used to cold grub, " he smiled over his shoulder. "And, anyway, when your nose gets to acting up with you, it's like riding a pitchinghorse; you've got to pass up everything and give it all your time andattention. " Then, with the daring that sometimes possessed him like adevil, he looked straight at her. 

"Sure you intend to give me my dinner?" he quizzed, his lips' liftinghumorously at the corners. "I kinda thought, from the way you turned medown cold when we met before, you'd shut your door in my face if I camepestering around. How _about_ that?"

Little flames of light nickered in her eyes. "You are the guest of myhusband, here by his invitation, " she answered him coldly. "Of course Ishall give you your dinner, if you want any. "

He inspected his handkerchief critically, decided that it was not quiteclean, and held it again under the stream of water. "If I want it--yes, " hedrawled maliciously. "Maybe I'm not sure about that part. Are you a prettyfair cook?"

"Perhaps you'd better interview your friends, " she retorted, "if you are sovery fastidious. I--" She drew her brows together, as if she was in doubtas to the proper method of dealing with this impertinence. She suspectedthat he was teasing her purposely, but still--

"Oh, I can eat 'most any old thing, " he assured her, with calm effrontery. "You look as if you'd learn easy, and Man ain't the worst cook I ever ateafter. If he's trained you faithful, maybe it'll be safe to take a change. How _about_ that? Can you make sour-dough bread yet?"

"No!" she flung the word at him. "And I don't want to learn, " she added, atthe expense of her dignity. 

Kent shook his head disapprovingly. "That sure ain't the proper spirit toshow, " he commented. "Man must have to beat you up a good deal, if you talkback to _him_ that way. " He eyed her sidelong. "You're a real little wolf, aren't you?" He shook his head again solemnly, and sighed. "A fellow suremust build himself lots of trouble when he annexes a wife--a wife thatwon't learn to make sour-dough bread, and that talks back. I'm plumb sorryfor Man. We used to be pretty good friends--" He stopped short, his facecontrite. 

Val was looking away, and she was winking very fast. Also, her lips werequivering unmistakably, though she was biting them to keep them steady. 

Kent stared at her helplessly. "Say! I never thought you'd mind a littlejoshing, " he said gently, when the silence was growing awkward. "I ought tobe killed! You--you must get awful lonesome--"

She turned her face toward him quickly, as if he were the first personwho had understood her blank loneliness. "That, " she told him, in anodd, hesitating manner, "atones for the--the 'joshing. ' No one seems torealize--"

"Why don't you get out and ride around, or do something beside stick righthere in this coulee like a--a cactus?" he demanded, with a roughness thatsomehow was grateful to her. "I'll bet you haven't been a mile from theranch since Man brought you here. Why don't you go to town with him whenhe goes? It'd be a whole lot better for you--for both of you. Have you gotacquainted with any of the women here yet? I'll gamble you haven't!" He waswaving the handkerchief gently like a flag, to dry it. 

Val watched him; she had never seen any one hold a handkerchief by thecorners and wave it up and down like that for quick drying, and theexpedient interested her, even while she was wondering if it was quiteproper for him to lecture her in that manner. His scolding was even moreconfusing than his teasing. 

"I've been down to the river twice, " she defended weakly, and was angrywith herself that she could not find words with which to quell him. 

"Really?" He down at her indulgently. "How did you ever manage to get sofar? It must be all of half a mile!"

"Oh, you're perfectly horrible!" she flashed suddenly. "I don't see how itcan possibly concern you whether I go anywhere or not. "

"It does, though. I'm a lot public-spirited. I hate to see taxes go up, andevery lunatic that goes to the asylum costs the State just that much more. I don't know an easier recipe for going crazy than just to stay off aloneand think. It's a fright the way it gets sheep-herders, and such. "

"I'm _such_, I suppose!"

Kent glanced at her, approved mentally of the color in her cheeks and theangry light in her eyes, and laughed at her quite openly. 

"There's nothing like getting good and mad once in a while, to takethe kinks out of your brain, " he observed. "And there's nothing likelonesomeness to put 'em in. A good fighting mad is what you need, now andthen; I'll have to put Man next, I guess. He's too mild. "

"No one could accuse you of that, " she retorted, laughing a little in spiteof herself. "If I were a man I should want to blacken your eyes--" And sheblushed hotly at being betrayed into a personality which seemed to herundignified, and, what was worse, unrefined. She turned her back squarelytoward him, started down the path, and remembered that she had not filledthe water bucket, and that without it she could not consistently return tothe house. 

Kent interpreted her glance, went sliding down the steep bank and recoveredthe pail; he was laughing to himself while he rinsed and filled it at thespring, but he made no effort to explain his amusement. When he came backto where she stood watching him, Val gave her head a slight downward tiltto indicate her thanks, turned, and led the way back to the house withouta word. And he, following after, watched her slim figure swinging lightlydown the hill before him, and wondered vaguely what sort of a hell her lifewas going to be, out here where everything was different from what she hadbeen accustomed to, and where she did not seem to "fit into the scenery, "as he put it. 

"You ought to learn to ride horseback, " he advised unexpectedly. 

"Pardon me--you ought to learn to wait until your advice is wanted, " shereplied calmly, without turning her head. And she added, with a sort ofdefiance: "I do not feel the need of either society or diversion, I assureyou; I am perfectly contented. "

"That's real nice, " he approved. "There's nothing like being satisfied withwhat's handed out to you. " But, though he spoke with much unconcern, histone betrayed his skepticism. 

The others had finished eating and were sitting upon their heels in theshade of the house, smoking and talking in that desultory fashion common tomen just after a good meal. Two or three glanced rather curiously at Kentand his companion, and he detected the covert smile on the scandal-hungryface of Polycarp Jenks, and also the amused twist of Fred De Garmo's lips. He went past them without a sign of understanding, set the water pail downin its proper place upon a bench inside the kitchen door, tilted his hatto Val, who happened to be looking toward him at that moment, and went outagain. 

"What's the hurry, Kenneth?" quizzed Polycarp, when Kent started toward thecorral. 

"Follow my trail long enough and you'll find out--maybe, " Kent snapped inreply. He felt that the whole group was watching hum, and he knew that ifhe looked back and caught another glimpse of Fred De Garmo's sneering facehe would feel compelled to strike it a blow. There would be no plausibleexplanation, of course, and Kent was not by nature a trouble hunter; and sohe chose to ride away without his dinner. 

While Polycarp was still wondering audibly what was the matter, Kent passedthe house on his gray, called "So-long, Man, " with scarcely a glance at hishost, and speedily became a dim figure in the smoke haze. 

"He must be runnin' away from you, Fred, " Polycarp hinted, grinningcunningly. "What you done to him--hey?"

Fred answered him with an unsatisfactory scowl. "You sure would be wise, ifyou found out everything you wanted to know, " he said contemptuously, afteran appreciable Wait. "I guess we better be moving along, Bill. " He rose, brushed off his trousers with a downward sweep of his hands, and strolledtoward the corrals, followed languidly by Bill Madison. 

As if they had been waiting for a leader, the others rose also and preparedto depart. Polycarp proceeded, in his usual laborious manner, to draw histobacco from his pocket, and pry off a corner. 

"Why don't you burn them guards now, Manley, while you got plenty of help?"he suggested, turning his slit-lidded eyes toward the kitchen door, whereVal appeared for an instant to reach the broom which stood outside. 

"Because I don't want to, " snapped Manley: "I've got plenty to do withoutthat. "

"Well, they ain't wide enough, nor long enough, and they don't run in theright direction--if you ask me. " Polycarp spat solemnly off to the right. 

"I don't ask you, as it happens. " Manley turned and went into the home. 

Polycarp looked quizzically at the closed door. "He's mighty touchy aboutthem guards, for a feller that thinks they're all right--_he-he!_" heremarked, to no one in particular. "Some of these days, by granny, he'llwisht he'd took my advice!"

Since no one gave him the slightest attention, Polycarp did not pursue thesubject further. Instead, with both ears open to catch all that was said, he trailed after the others to the corral. It was a matter of instinct, as well as principle, with Polycarp Jenks, to let no sentence, howevertrivial, slip past his hearing and his memory. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE PRAIRIE FIRE

A calamity expected, feared, and guarded against by a whole community doessometimes occur, and with a suddenness which finds the victims unpreparedin spite of all their elaborate precautions. Compared with the importanceof saving the range from fire, it was but a trivial thing which took nearlyevery man who dwelt in Lonesome Land to town on a certain day when the windblew free from out the west. They were weary of watching for the fire whichdid not come licking through the prairie grass, and a special campaigntrain bearing a prospective President of our United States was expected topass through Hope that afternoon. 

Since all trains watered at the red tank by the creek, there would be afive-minute stop, during which the prospective President would stand uponthe rear platform and deliver a three-minute address--a few gracious wordsto tickle the self-esteem of his listeners--and would employ the other twominutes in shaking the hand of every man, woman, and child who could reachhim before the train pulled out. There would be a cheer or two given as hewas borne away--and there would be something to talk about afterward in thesaloons. Scarce a man of then had ever seen a President, and it was worthriding far to look upon a man who even hoped for so exalted a position. 

Manley went because he intended to vote for the man, and called it an actof loyalty to his party to greet the candidate; also because it took verylittle, now that haying was over and work did not press, to start him downthe trail in the direction of Hope. 

At the Blumenthall ranch no man save the cook remained at home, and he onlybecause he had a boil on his neck which sapped his interest in all thingselse. Polycarp Jenks was in town by nine o'clock, and only one man remainedat the Wishbone. That man was Kent, and he stayed because, according to hisoutraged companions, he was an ornery cuss, and his bump of patriotism wasa hollow in his skull. Kent had told them, one and all, that he wouldn'tride twenty-five miles to shake hands with the Deity Himself--which, however, is not a verbatim report of his statement. The prospectivePresident had not done anything so big, he said, that a man should want tobreak his neck getting to town just to watch him go by. He was dead surehe, for one, wasn't going to make a fool of himself over any swell-headedpolitician. 

Still, he saddled and rode with his fellows for a mile or two, and calledthem unseemly names in a facetious tone; and the men of the Wishboneanswered his taunts with shrill yells of derision when he swung out of thetrail and jogged away to the south, and finally passed out of sight in thehaze which still hung depressingly over the land. 

Oddly enough, while all the able-bodied men save Kent were waitinghilariously in Hope to greet, with enthusiasm, the brief presence of theman who would fain be their political chief, the train which bore himeastward scattered fiery destruction abroad as it sped across their range, four minutes late and straining to make up the time before the next stop. 

They had thought the railroad safe at last, what with the guards and thenumerous burned patches where the fire had jumped the plowed boundary andblackened the earth to the fence which marked the line of the right of way, and, in some places, had burned beyond. It took a flag-flying special trainof that bitter Presidential campaign to find a weak spot in the guard, andto send a spark straight into the thickest bunch of wiry sand grass, wherethe wind could fan it to a blaze and then seize it and bend the tall flametongues until they licked around the next tuft of grass, and the next, and the next--until the spark was grown to a long, leaping line of fire, sweeping eastward with the relentless rush of a tidal wave upon a low-lyingbeach. 

Arline Hawley was, perhaps, the only citizen of Hope who had deliberatelychosen to absent herself from the crowd standing, in perspiringexpectation, upon the depot platform. She had permitted Minnie, the "breed"girl, to go, and had even grudgingly consented to her using a box ofcornstarch as first aid to her complexion. Arline had not approved, however, of either the complexion or the occasion. 

"What you want to go and plaster your face up with starch for, gits me, "she had criticised frankly. "Seems to me you're homely enough withoutlookin' silly, into the bargain. Nobody's going to look at you, no matterwhat you do. They're out to rubber at a higher mark than you be. And whatthey expect to see so great, gits me. He ain't nothing but a man--and, landknows, men is common enough, and ornery enough, without runnin' like a bandof sheep to see one. I don't see as he's any better, jest because he'srunnin' for President; if he gits beat, he'll want to hide his head in ahole in the ground. Look at my Walt. _He_ was the biggest man in Hope, andso swell-headed he wouldn't so much as pack a bucket of water all fall, orchop up a tie for kindlin'--till the day after 'lection. And what was hethen but a frazzled-out back number, that everybody give the laugh--till heup and blowed his brains out! Any fool can _run_ for President--it's thefeller that gits there that counts. 

"Say, that red-white-'n'-blue ribbon sure looks fierce on that greendress--but I reckon blood will tell, even if it's Injun blood. G'wan, oryou'll be late and have your trouble for your pay. But hurry back soon'sthe agony's over; the bread'll be ready to mix out. "

Even after the girl was gone, her finery a-flutter in the sweeping westwind, Arline muttered aloud her opinion of men, and particularly ofpoliticians who rode about in special trains and expected the homage oftheir fellows. 

She was in the back yard, taking her "white clothes" off the line, when thespecial came puffing slowly into town. To emphasize her disapproval of thewhole system of politics, she turned her back square toward it, and laidviolent hold of a sheet. There was a smudge of cinders upon its whitesurface, and it crushed crisply under her thumb with the unmistakable feelof burned grass. 

"Now, what in time--" began Arline aloud, after the manner of women whosetongues must keep pace with their thoughts. "That there feels freshand"--with a sniff at the spot--"_smells_ fresh. "

With the wisdom of much experience she faced the hot wind and sniffedagain, while her eyes searched keenly the sky line, which was the raggedtop of the bluff marking the northern boundary of the great prairie land. Atrifle darker it was there, and there was a certain sullen glow discernibleonly to eyes trained to read the sky for warning signals of snow, fire, andflood. 

"That's a fire, and it's this side of the river. And if it is, then therailroad set it, and there ain't a livin' thing to stop it. An' the wind'sjest right--" A curdled roll of smoke showed plainly for a moment in thehaze. She crammed her armful of sheets into the battered willow basket, threw two clothespins hastily toward the same receptacle, and ran. 

The special had just come to a stop at the depot. The cattlemen, cowboys, and townspeople were packed close around the rear of the train, their backsto the wind and the disaster sweeping down upon them, their browned facesupturned to the sleek, carefully groomed man in the light-gray suit, with aflaunting, prairie sunflower ostentatiously displayed in his buttonhole andwith his campaign smile upon his lips and dull boredom looking out of hiseyes. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, " he was saying, as he smiled, "you favoured oneswhose happy lot it is to live in the most glorious State of our gloriousunion, I greet you, and I envy you--"

Arline, with her soiled kitchen apron, her ragged coil of dust-brown hair, her work-drawn face and faded eyes which blazed with excitement, pushedunceremoniously through the crowd and confronted him undazzled. 

"Mister Candidate, you better move on and give these men a chancet to savetheir prope'ty, " she cried shrilly. "They got something to do besides standaround here and listen at you throwin' campaign loads. The hull country'safire back of us, and the wind bringin' it down on a long lope. "

She turned from the astounded candidate and glared at the startled crowd, every one of whom she knew personally. 

"I must say I got my opinion of a bunch that'll stand here swallowin' a lotof hot air, while their coat tails is most ready to ketch afire!" Her voicewas rasping, and it carried to the farthest of them. "You make me _tired!_Political slush, all of it--and the hull darned country a-blazin' behindyou!"

The crowd moved uneasily, then scattered away from the shelter of the depotto where they could snuff inquiringly the wind, like dogs in the leash. 

"That's right, " yelled Blumenthall, of the Double Diamond. "There's a fire, sure as hell!" He started to run. 

The man behind him hesitated but a second, then gripped his hat against thepush of the wind, and began running. Presently men, women, and childrenwere running, all in one direction. 

The prospective President stood agape upon the platform of hisbunting-draped car, his chosen allies grouped foolishly around him. Itwas the first time men had turned from his presence with his gracious, flatteringly noncommittal speech unuttered, his hand unshaken, his smiling, bowing departure unmarked by cheers growing fainter as he receded. OnlyArline tarried, her thin fingers gripping the arm of her "breed girl, " lestshe catch the panic and run with the others. 

Arline tilted back her head upon her scrawny shoulders and eyed theprospective President with antagonism unconcealed. 

"I got something to say to you before you go, " she announced, in herrasping voice, with its querulous note. "I want to tell you that thechances are a hundred to one you set that fire yourself, with your enginethat's haulin' you around over the country, so you can jolly men intovotin' for you. Your train's the only one over the road since noon, andthat fire started from the railroad. The hull town's liable to burn, unlessit can be stopped the other side the creek, to say nothing of the range, that feeds our stock, and the hay, and maybe houses--and maybe _people!_"

She caught her breath, and almost shrieked the last three words, as adreadful probability flashed into her mind. 

"I know a woman--just a girl--and she's back there twenty mile--_alone_, and her man's here to look at you go by! I hope you git beat, just forthat!

"If this town ketches afire and burns up, I hope you run into the ditchbefore you git ten mile! If you was a man, and them fellers with you wasmen, you'd hold up your train and help save the town. Every feller counts, when it comes to fightin' fire. "

She stopped and eyed the group keenly. "But you won't. I don't reckon youever done anything with them hands in your life that would grind a littlehonest dirt into your knuckles and under them shiny nails!"

The prospective President turned red to his ears, and hastily removed hisimmaculate hands from where they had been resting upon the railing. And hedid not hold up the train while he and his allies stopped to help save thetown. The whistle gave a warning toot, the bell jangled, and the train slidaway toward the next town, leaving Arline staring, tight-lipped, after it. 

"The darned chump--he'd 'a' made votes hand over fist if he'd called mybluff; but. I knew he wouldn't, soon as I seen his face. He ain't manenough. "

"He's real good-lookin', " sighed Minnie, feebly attempting to release herarm from the grasp of her mistress. "And did you notice the fellow with thebig yellow mustache? He kept eyin' me--"

"Well, I don't wonder--but it ain't anything to your credit, " snappedArline, facing her toward the hotel, "You do look like sin a-flyin', inthat green dress, and with all that starch on your face. You git along tothe house and mix that bread, first thing you do, and start a fire. And ifI ain't back by that time, you go ahead with the supper; you know what togit. We're liable to have all the tables full, so you set all of 'em. "

She was hurrying away, when the girl called to her. 

"Did you mean Mis' Fleetwood, when you said that about the woman burning?And do you s'pose she's really in the fire?"

"You shut up and go along!" cried Arline roughly, under the stress of herown fears. "How in time's anybody going to tell, that's twenty miles away?"

She left the street and went hurrying through back yards and across vacantlots, crawled through a wire fence, and so reached, without any roundaboutmethod, the trail which led to the top of the bluff, where the whole townwas breathlessly assembling. Her flat-chested, un-corseted figure mergedinto the haze as she half trotted up the steep road, swinging her arms likea man, her skirts flapping in the wind. As she went, she kept muttering toherself:

"If she really is caught by the fire--and her alone--and Man more'n halfdrunk--" She whirled, and stood waiting for the horseman who was gallopingup the trail behind her. "You going home, Man? You don't think it couldgit to your place, do you?" She shouted the questions at him as he poundedpast. 

Manley, sallow white with terror, shook his head vaguely and swung hisheavy quirt down upon the flanks of his horse. Arline lowered her headagainst the dust kicked into her face as he went tearing past her, andkept doggedly on. Some one came rattling up behind her with empty barrelsdancing erratically in a wagon, and she left the trail to make room. Thehostler from their own stable it was who drove, and at the creek ahead ofthem he stopped to fill the barrels. Arline passed him by and kept on. 

At the brow of the hill the women and children were gathered in awhimpering group. Arline joined them and gazed out over the prairie, wherethe smoke was rolling toward them, and, lifting here and there, let a flareof yellow through. 

"It'll show up fine at dark, " a fat woman in a buggy remarked. "There'snothing grander to look at than a prairie fire at night. I do hope, " sheadded weakly, "it don't do no great damage!"

"Oh, it won't, " Arline cut in, with savage sarcasm, panting from her climb. "It's bound to sweep the hull country slick an' clean, and maybe burn usall out--but that won't matter, so long as it looks purty after dark!"

"They say it's a good ten mile away yet, " another woman volunteeredencouragingly. "They'll git it stopped, all right. There's lots of men hereto fight it, thank goodness!"

Arline moved on to where a plow was being hurriedly unloaded from a wagon, the horses hitched to it, and a man already grasping the handles in anaggressive manner. As she came up he went off, yelling his opinions andturning a shallow, uneven furrow for a back fire. Within five minutesanother plow was tearing up the sod in an opposite direction. 

"If it jumps here, or they can't turn it, the creek'll help a lot, " someone was yelling. 

The plowed furrows lengthened, the horses sweating and throwing their headsup and down with the discomfort of the pace they must keep. Whiplasheswhistled and the drivers urged them on with much shouting. Blumenthall, cutoff, with his men, from reaching his own ranch, was directing a groupabout to set a back fire. His voice boomed as if he were shouting across amilling herd. A roll of his eye brought his attention momentarily from thework, and he ran toward a horseman who was gesticulating wildly and seemedon the point of riding straight toward the fire. 

"Hi! Fleetwood, we need you here!" he yelled. "You can't get home now, andyou know it. The fire's past your place already; you'd have to ride throughit, you fool! Hey? Your wife home alone--_alone!_"

He stood absolutely still and stared out to the southwest, where the smokecloud was rolling closer with every breath. He drew his fingers across hisforehead and glanced at the men around him, also stunned into inactivity bythe tragedy behind the words. 

"Well--get to work, men. We've got to save the town. Fine time to burnguards--when a fire's loping up on you! But that's the way it goes, generally. This ought to've been done a month ago. Put it off and put itoff--while they haggle over bids--Brinberg, you and I'll string the fire. The rest of you watch it don't jump back. And, say!" he shouted to thegroup around Manley. "Don't let that crazy fool start off now. Put him towork. Best thing for him. But--my God, that's awful!" He did not shout thelast sentence. He spoke so that only the nearest man heard him--heard, andnodded dumb assent. 

Manley raged, sitting helpless there upon his horse. They would not let himride out toward that sweeping wave of fire. He could not have gone fivemiles toward home before he met the flames. He stood in the stirrupsand shook his fists impotently. He strained his eyes to see what it wasimpossible for him to see--his ranch and Val, and how they had fared. Hepictured mentally the guard he had burned beyond the coulee to protect themfrom just this danger, and his heart squeezed tight at the realization ofhis own shiftlessness. That guard! A twelve-foot strip of half-burned sod, with tufts of grass left standing here and there--and he had meant to burnit wider, and had put it off from day to day, until now. _Now!_

His clenched fist dropped upon the saddle horn, and he stared dully at therushing, rolling smoke and fire. It was not _that_ he saw--it was Val, withcinder-blackened ruffles, grimy face, and yellow hair falling in looselocks upon her cheeks--locks which she must stop to push out of her eyes, so that she could see where to swing the sodden sack while she helpedhim--him, Manley, who had permitted her to do work it for none but a man'shard muscles, so that he might finish the sooner and ride to town upon someflimsy pretext. And he could not even reach her now--or the place where shehad been!

The group had thinned around him, for there was something to do besidesgive sympathy to a man bereaved. Unless they bestirred themselves, theymight all be in need of sympathy before the day was done. Manley took hiseyes from the coming fire and glanced around him, saw that he was alone, and, with a despairing oath, wheeled his horse and raced back down the hillto town, as if fiends rode behind the saddle. 

At the saloon opposite the Hawley Hotel he drew up; rather, his horsestopped there of his own accord, as if he were quite at home at thatparticular hitching pole. Manley dismounted heavily and lurched inside. Theplace was deserted save for Jim, who was paid to watch the wares of hisemployer, and was now standing upon a chair at the window, that he mightsee over the top of Hawley's coal shed and glimpse the hilltop beyond. Jimstepped down and came toward him. 

"How's the fire?" he demanded anxiously. "Think she'll swing over thisway?"

But Manley had sunk into a chair and buried his face in his arms, foldedupon a whisky-spotted card table. 

"Val--my Val!" he wailed, "Back there alone--get me a drink, " he addedthickly, "or I'll go crazy!"

Jim hastily poured a full glass, and stood over him anxiously. 

"Here it is. Drink 'er down, and brace up. What you mean? Is your wife--"

Manley lifted his head long enough to gulp the whisky, then dropped itagain upon his arms and groaned. 

CHAPTER IX

KENT TO THE RESCUE

The fire had been burning a possible half-hour when Kent, jogging aimlesslytoward a log ridge with the lazy notion of riding to the top and takinga look at the country to the west before returning to the ranch, firstsmelled the stronger tang of burned grass and swung instinctively into thewind. He galloped to higher ground, and, trained by long watching of theprairie to detect the smoke of a nearer fire in the haze of those longdistant, saw at once what must have happened, and knew also the danger. Hishorse was fresh, and he raced him over the uneven prairie toward the blaze. 

It was tearing straight across the high ground between Dry Creek and ColdSpring Coulee when he first saw it plainly, and he altered his coursea trifle. The roar of it came faintly on the wind, like the sound ofstorm-beaten surf pounding heavily upon a sand bar when the tide is out, except that this roar was continuous, and was full of sharp cracklings andsputterings; and there was also the red line of flame to visualize thesound. 

When his eyes first swept the mile-long blaze, he felt his helplessness, and cursed aloud the man who had drawn all the fighting force from theprairie that day. They might at least have been able to harry it and hamperit and turn the savage sweep of it into barren ground upon some rock-boundcoulee's rim. If they could have caught it at the start, or even in thefirst mile of its burning--or, even now, if Blumenthall's outfit were onthe spot--or if Manley Fleetwood's fire guards held it back--He hoped someof them had stayed at home, so that they could help fight it. 

In that brief glimpse before he rode down into a hollow and so lost sightof it, he knew that the fire they had fought and vanquished before had beena puny blaze compared with this one. The ground it had burned was not broadenough to do more than check this fire temporarily. It would simply burnaround the blackened area and rush on and on, until the bend of the riverturned it back to the north, where the river's first tributary stream wouldstop it for good and all. But before that happened it would have done itsworst--and its worst was enough to pale the face of every prairie dweller. 

Once more he caught sight of the fire as he was riding swiftly acrossthe level land to the east of Cold Spring Coulee. He was going to see ifManley's fire guards were any good, and if anyone was there ready to fightit when it came up; they could set a back fire from the guards, he thought, even if the guards themselves were not wide enough to hold the main fire. 

He pounded heavily down the long trail into the coulee, passed close by thehouse with a glance sidelong to see if anybody was in sight there, roundedthe corral to follow the trail which wound zigzag up the farther couleewall, and overtook Val, running bareheaded up the hill, dragging a wet sackafter her. She was panting already from the climb, and she had on thinslippers with high heels, he noticed, that impeded her progress andpromised a sprained ankle before she reached the top. Kent laughed grimlywhen he overtook her; he thought it was like a five-year-old child runningwith a cup of water to put out a burning house. 

"Where do you think you're going with that sack?" he called out, by way ofgreeting. 

She turned a pale, terrified face toward him, and reached up a handmechanically to push her fair hair out of her eyes. "So much smoke wasrolling into the coulee, " she panted, "and I knew there must be a fire. AndI've never felt quite easy about our guards since Polycarp Jenks said--Doyou know where it is--the fire?"

"It's between here and the railroad. Give me that sack, and you go on backto the house. You can't do any good. " And when she handed the sack up tohim and then kept on up the hill, he became autocratic in his tone. "Go onback to the house, I tell you!"

"I shall not do anything of the kind, " she retorted indignantly, and Kentgave a snort of disapproval, kicked his horse into a lunging gallop, andleft her. 

"You'll spoil your complexion, " he cried over his shoulder, "and that'sabout all you will do. You better go back and get a parasol. "

Val did not attempt to reply, but she refused to let his taunts turn herback, and kept stubbornly climbing, though tears of pure rage filled hereyes and even slipped over the lids to her cheeks. Before she had reachedthe top, he was charging down upon her again, and the pallor of his facetold her much. 

"All hell couldn't stop that fire!" he cried, before he was near her, andthe words were barely distinguishable in the roar which was growing louderand more terrifying. _"Get back!_ You want to stand there till it comesdown on you?" Then, just as he was passing, he saw how white and tremblingshe was, and he pulled up, with Michael sliding his front feet in the loosesoil that he might stop on that steep slope. 

"You don't want to go and faint, " he remonstrated in a more kindly tone, vaguely conscious that he had perhaps seemed brutal. "Here, give me yourhand, and stick your toe in the stirrup. Ah, don't waste time trying tomake up your mind--up you come! Don't you want to save the house andcorrals--and the haystacks? We've got our work cut out, let me tell you, ifwe do it"

He had leaned and lifted her up bodily, helped her to put her foot in thestirrup from which he had drawn his own, and he held her beside him whilehe sent Michael down the trail as fast as he dared. It was a good deal ofa nuisance, having to look after her when seconds were so precious, buthe couldn't go on and leave her, though she might easily have reached thebottom as soon as he if she had not been so frightened. He was afraid totrust her; she looked, to him, as if she were going to faint in his arms. 

"You don't want to get scared, " he said, as calmly as he could. "It's backtwo or three miles on the bench yet, and I guess we can easy stop it fromburning anything but the grass. It's this wind, you see. Manley went totown, I suppose?"

"Yes, " she answered weakly. "He went yesterday, and stayed over. I'm allalone, and I didn't know what to do, only to go up and try--"

"No use, up there. "

They were at the corral gate then, and he set her down carefully, thendismounted and turned Michael into the corral and shut the gate. 

"If we can't step it, and I ain't close by, I wish you'd let Michael out, "he said hurriedly, his eyes taking in the immediate surroundings andmeasuring the danger which lurked in weeds, grass, and scattered hay. "Ahorse don't have much show when he's shut up, and--Out there where that dryditch runs, we'll back-fire. You take this sack and come and watch out myfire don't jump the ditch. We'll carry it around the house, just the otherside the trail. " He was pulling a handful of grass for a torch, and whilehe was twisting it and feeling in his pocket for a match, he looked at herkeenly. "You aren't going to get hysterics and leave me to fight it alone, are you?" he challenged. 

"I hope I'm not quite such a silly, " she answered stiffly, and he smiled tohimself as he ran along the far side of the ditch with his blazing tuftof grass, setting fire to the tangled, brown mat which covered the couleebottom. 

Val followed slowly behind him, watching that the blaze did not blow backacross the ditch, and beating it out when it seemed likely to do so. Nowthat she could actually do something, she was no more excited than he, ifone could judge by her manner. She did look sulky, however, at his way oftreating her. 

To back-fire on short notice, with no fresh-turned furrow of moist earth, but only a shallow little dry ditch with the grass almost meeting over itstop in places, is ticklish business at best. Kent went slowly, stamping outincipient blazes that seemed likely to turn unruly, and not trustingVal any more than he was compelled to do. She was a woman, and Kent'sexperience with women of her particular type had not been extensive enoughto breed confidence in an emergency like this. 

He had no more than finished stringing his line of fire in the irregularhalf circle which enclosed house, corral, stables, and haystacks, and hadfor its eastern half the muddy depression which, in seasons less dry, wasa fair-sized creek fed by the spring, when a jagged line of fire with anupper wall of tumbling, brown smoke, leaped into view at the top of thebluff. 

One thing was in his favor: The grass upon the hillside was scantierthan on the level upland, and here and there were patches of yellow soilabsolutely bare of vegetation, where a fire would be compelled to halt andcreep slowly around. Also, fire usually burns slower down a hill than overa level. On the other hand, the long, seamlike depressions which ran to thetop were filled with dry brush, and even the coulee bottom had clumps ofrosebushes and wild currant, where the flames would revel briefly. 

But already the black, smoking line which curved around the haystacks tothe north, and around the house toward the south, was widening with everypassing second. 

Val had a tub half filled with water at the house, and that helpedamazingly by making it possible to keep the sacks wet, so that every blowcounted as they beat out the ragged tongues of flame which, in that wind, would jump here and there the ditch and the road, and go creeping backtoward the stacks and the buildings. For it was a long line they wereguarding, and there was a good deal of running up and down in theirendeavor to be in two places at once. 

Then Val, in turning to strike a new-born flame behind her, swept herskirt across a tuft of smoldering grass and set herself afire. With theexcitement of watching all points at once, and with the smoke and smell offire all about her, she did not see what had happened, and must have paid afrightful penalty if Kent had not, at that moment, been running past her toreach a point where a blaze had jumped the ditch. 

He swerved, and swung a newly wet sack around her with a force which wouldhave knocked her down if he had not at the same time caught and held her. Val screamed, and struggled in his arms, and Kent knew that it was ofhim she was afraid. As soon as he dared, he released her and backed awaysullenly. 

"Sorry I didn't have time to say please--you were just ready to go up insmoke, " he flung savagely over his shoulder. But he found himself shakingand weak, so that when he reached the blaze he must beat out, the sack washeavy as lead. "Afraid of _me_--women sure do beat hell!" he told himself, when he was a bit steadier. He glanced back at her resentfully. Val wasstooping, inspecting the damage done to her dress. She stood up, lookedat him, and he saw that her face was white again, as it had been upon thehillside. 

A moment later he was near her again. 

"Mr. Burnett, I'm--ashamed--but I didn't know, and you--you startled me, "she stopped him long enough to confess, though she did not meet his eyes. "You saved--"

"You'll be startled worse, if you let the fire hang there in that bunch ofgrass, " he interrupted coolly. "Behind you, there. "

She turned obediently, and swung her sack down several times upon asmoldering spot, and the incident was closed. 

Speedily it was forgotten, also. For with the meeting of the fires, whichthey stood still to watch, a patch of wild rosebushes was caught fairlyupon both sides, and flared high, with a great snapping and crackling. The wind seized upon the blaze, flung it toward them like a great, yellowbanner, and swept cinders and burning twigs far out over the blackenedpath of the back fire. Kent watched it and hardly breathed, but Val wasshielding her face from the searing heat with her arms, and so did notsee what happened then. A burning branch like a long, flaming dagger flewstraight with the wind and lighted true as if flung by the hand of anenemy. A long, neatly tapered stack received it fairly, and Kent's crybrought Val's arms down, and her scared eyes staring at him. 

"That settles the hay, " he exclaimed, and raced for the stacks knowing allthe while that he could do nothing, and yet panting in his hurry to reachthe spot. 

Michael, trampling uneasily in the corral, lifted his head and neighedshrilly as Kent passed him on the run. Michael had watched fearfully thefire sweeping down upon him, and his fear had troubled Val not a little. When she saw Kent pass the gate, she hurried up and threw it open, wondering a little that Kent should forget his horse. He had told her tosee that he was turned loose if the fire could not be stopped--and now heseemed to have forgotten it. 

Michael, with a snort and an upward toss of his head to throw the draggingreins away from his feet, left the corral with one jump, and clatteredaway, past the house and up the hill, on the trail which led toward home. Val stood for a moment watching him. Could he out-run the fire? He washolding his head turned to one side now, so that the reins dangled awayfrom his pounding feet; once he stumbled to his knees, but he was up in aflash, and running faster than ever. He passed out of sight over the hill, and Val, with eyes smarting and cheeks burning from the heat, drew a longbreath and started after Kent. 

Kent was backing, step by step, away from the heat of the burning stacks. The roar, and the crackle, and the heat were terrific; it was as if thewhole world was burning around them, and they only were left. A brand flewlow over Val's head as she ran staggeringly, with a bewildered sense thatshe must hurry somewhere and do something immediately, to save somethingwhich positively must be saved. A spark from the brand fell upon her hand, and she looked up stupidly. The heat and the smoke were choking her so thatshe could scarcely breathe. 

A new crackle was added to the uproar of flames. Kent, still backing fromthe furnace of blazing hay, turned, and saw that the stable, with its roofof musty hay, was afire. And, just beyond, Val, her face covered with hersooty hands, was staggering drunkenly. He reached her as she fell to herknees. 

"I--can't--fight--any more, " she whispered faintly. 

He picked her up in his arms and hesitated, his face toward the house; thenran straight away from it, stumbled across the dry ditch and out across theblackened strip which their own back fire had swept clean of grass. The hotearth burned his feet through the soles of his riding boots, but the windcarried the heat and the smoke away, behind them. Clumps of bushes werestill burning at the roots, but he avoided them and kept on to the far sidehill, where a barren, yellow patch, with jutting sandstone rocks, offereda resting place. He set Val down upon a rock, placed himself beside her sothat she was leaning against him, and began fanning her vigorously with hishat. 

"Thank the Lord, we're behind that smoke, anyhow, " he observed, when hecould get his breath. He felt that silence was not good for the womanbeside him, though he doubted much whether she was in a condition tounderstand him. She was gasping irregularly, and her body was a dead weightagainst him. "It was sure fierce, there, for a few minutes. "

He looked out across the coulee at the burning stables, and waited for thehouse to catch. He could not hope that it would escape, but he did notmention the probability of its burning. 

"Keep your eyes shut, " he said. "That'll help some, and soon as we canwe'll go to the spring and give our faces and hands a good bath. " He untiedhis silk neckerchief, shook out the cinders, and pressed it against herclosed eyes. "Keep that over 'em, " he commanded, "till we can do better. Myeyes are more used to smoke than yours, I guess. Working around brandingfires toughens 'em some. "

Still she did not attempt to speak, and she did not seem to have energyenough left to keep the silk over her eyes. The wind blew it off withouther stirring a finger to prevent, and Kent caught it just in time to saveit from sailing away toward the fire. After that he held it in placehimself, and he did not try to keep talking. He sat quietly, with his armaround her, as impersonal in the embrace as if he were holding a strangepartner in a dance, and watched the stacks burn, and the stables. He sawthe corral take fire, rail by rail, until it was all ablaze. He saw hensand roosters running heavily, with wings dragging, until the heat toppledthem over. He saw a cat, with white spots upon its sides, leave the bushesdown by the creek and go bounding in terror to the house. 

And still the house stood there, the curtains flapping in and out throughthe open windows, the kitchen door banging open and shut as the gusts ofwind caught it. The fire licked as close as burned ground and rocky creekbed would let it, and the flames which had stayed behind to eat thespare gleanings died, while the main line raged on up the hillside anddisappeared in a huge, curling wave of smoke. The stacks burned downto blackened, smoldering butts. The willows next the spring, and thechokecherries and wild currants withered in the heat and waved charred, naked arms impotently in the wind. The stable crumpled up, flared, andbecame a heap of embers. The corral was but a ragged line of smoking, half-burned sticks and ashes. Spirals of smoke, like dying camp fires, blewthin ribbons out over the desolation. 

Kent drew a long breath and glanced down at the limp figure in his arms. She lay so very still that in spite of a quivering breath now and then hehad a swift, unreasoning fear she might be dead. Her hair was a tangledmass of gold upon her head, and spilled over his arm. He carefully picked aflake or two of charred grass from the locks on her temples, and discoveredhow fine and soft was the hair. He lifted the grimy neckerchief from hereyes and looked down at her face, smoke-soiled and reddened from the heat. Her lips were drooped pitifully, like a hurt child. Her lashes, he noticedfor the first time, were at least four shades darker than her hair. Hisgaze traveled on down her slim figure to her ringed fingers lying looselyin her lap, a long, dry-looking blister upon one hand near the thumb; downto her slippers, showing beneath her scorched skirt. And he drew anotherlong breath. He did not know why, but he had a strange, fleeting sense ofpossession, and it startled him into action. 

"You gone to sleep?" he called gently, and gave her a little shake. "We canget to the spring now, if you feel like walking that far; if you don't, Ireckon I'll have to carry you--for I sure do want a drink!"

She half lifted her lashes and let them drop again, as if life were notworth the effort of living. Kent hesitated, set his lips tightly together, and lifted her up straighter. His eyes were intent and stern, as thoughsome great issue was at stake, and he must rouse her at once, in spite ofeverything. 

"Here, this won't do at all, " he said--but he was speaking to himself andhis quivering nerves, more than to her. 

She sighed, made a conscious effort, and half opened her eyes again. Butshe seemed not to share his anxiety for action, and her mental and physicalapathy were not to be mistaken. The girl was utterly exhausted withfire-fighting and nervous strain. 

"You seem to be all in, " he observed, his voice softly complaining. "Well, I packed you over here, and I reckon I better pack you back again--if you_won't_ try to walk. "

She muttered something, of which Kent only distinguished "a minute. " Butshe was still limp, and absolutely without interest in anything, and so, after a moment of hesitation, he gathered her up in his arms and carriedher back to the house, kicked the door savagely open, took her in throughthe kitchen, and laid her down upon the couch, with a sigh of relief thathe was rid of her. 

The couch was gay with a bright, silk spread of "crazy" patchwork, andpiled generously with dainty cushions, too evidently made for ornamentalpurposes than for use. But Kent piled the cushions recklessly around her, tucked her smudgy skirts close, went and got a towel, which he immersedrecklessly in the water pail, and bathed her face and hands with clumsygentleness, and pushed back her tangled hair. The burn upon her hand showedan angry red around the white of the blister, and he laid the wet towelcarefully upon it. She did not move. 

He was a man, and he had lived all his life among men. He could fightanything that was fightable. He could save her life, but after this slightattention to her comfort he had reached the limitations set by his purelymasculine training. He lowered the shades so that the room was dusky and ascool as any other place in that fire-tortured land, and felt that he couldno do more for her. 

He stood for a moment looking down at the inert, grimy little figurestretched out straight, like a corpse, upon the bright-hued couch, her eyesclosed and sunken, with blue shadows beneath, her lips pale and still withthat tired, pitiful droop. He stooped and rearranged the wet towel on herburned hand, held his face close above hers for a second, sighed, frowned, and tiptoed out into the kitchen, closing the door carefully behind him. 

CHAPTER X

DESOLATION

For more than two hours Kent sat outside in the shade of the house, andstared out over the black desolation of the coulee. His horse was gone, sothat he could not ride anywhere--and there was nowhere in particular toride. For twenty miles around there was no woman whom he could bring toVal's assistance, even if he had been sure that she needed assistance. Several times he tiptoed into the kitchen, opened the door into the frontroom an inch or so, and peered in at her. The third time, she had relaxedfrom the corpselike position, and had thrown an arm up over her face, as ifshe were shielding her eyes from something. He took heart at that, and wentout and foraged for firewood. 

There was a hard-beaten zone around the corral and stables, which had keptthe fire from spreading toward the house, and the wind had borne the sparksand embers back toward the spring, so that the house stood in a brown oasisof unburned grass and weeds, scanty enough, it is true, but yet a relieffrom the dead black surroundings. 

The woodpile had not suffered. A chopping block, a decrepit sawhorse, an axe, and a rusty bucksaw marked the spot; also three ties, hackedeloquently in places, and just five sticks of wood, evidently chopped froma tie by a man in haste. Kent looked at that woodpile, and swore. He hadalways known that Manley had an aversion to laboring with his hands, but hewas unprepared for such an exhibition of shiftlessness. 

He savagely attacked the three ties, chopped them into firewood, and piledthem neatly, and then, walking upon his toes, he made a fire in the kitchenstove, filled the woodbox, the teakettle, and the water pail, sat out inthe shade until he heard the kettle boiling over on the stove, took anotherpeep in at Val, and then, moving as quietly as he could, proceeded to cooksupper for them both. 

He had been perfectly familiar with the kitchen arrangements in the dayswhen Manley was a bachelor, and it interested him and filled him with arespectful admiration for woman in the abstract and for Val in particular, to see how changed everything was, and how daintily clean and orderly. Val's smooth, white hands, with their two sparkly rings and the broadwedding band, did not suggest a familiarity with actual work about a house, but the effect of her labor and thought confronted him at every turn. 

"You can see your face in everything you pick up that was made to shine, "he commented, standing for a moment while he surveyed the bottom of astewpan. "She don't look it, but that yellow-eyed little dame sure knowshow to keep house. " Then he heard her cough, and set down the stewpanhurriedly and went to see if she wanted anything. 

Val was sitting upon the couch, her two hands pushing back her hair, gazingstupidly around her. 

"Everything's all ready but the tea, " Kent announced, in a perfectlymatter-of-fact tone. "I was just waiting to see how strong you want it. "

Val turned her yellow-brown eyes upon him in bewilderment. "Why, Mr. Burnett--maybe I wasn't dreaming, then. I thought there was a fire. Wasthere?"

Kent grinned. "Kinda. You worked like a son of a gun, too--till therewasn't any more to do, and then you laid 'em down for fair. You were allin, so I packed you in and put you there where you could be comfortable. And supper's ready--but how strong do you want your tea? I kinda had anidea, " he added lamely, "that women drink tea, mostly. I made coffee formyself. "

Val let herself drop back among the pretty pillows. "I don't want any. Ifthere was a fire, " she said dully, "then it's true. Everything's all burnedup. I don't want any tea. I want to die!"

Kent studied her for a moment. "Well, in that case--shall I get the axe?"

Val had closed her eyes, but she opened them again. "I don't care what youdo, " she said. 

"Well, I aim to please, " he told her calmly. "What _I'd_ do, in your place, would be to go and put on something that ain't all smoked and scorched likea--a ham, and then I'd sit up and drink some tea, and be nice about it. But, of course, if you want to cash in--"

Val gave a sob. "I can't help it--I'd just as soon be dead as alive. Itwas bad enough before--and now everything's burned up--and all Manley'snice--ha-ay--"

"Well, " Kent interrupted mercilessly, "I've heard of women doing all kindsof fool things--but this is the first time I ever knew one to commitsuicide over a couple of measly haystacks!" He went out and slammed thedoor so that the house shook, and tramped three times across the kitchenfloor. "That'll make her so mad at me she won't think about anything elsefor a while, " he reasoned shrewdly. But all the while his eyes were shiny, and when he winked, his lashes became unaccountably moist. He stopped andlooked out at the blackened coulee. "Shut into this hole, week after week, without a woman to speak to--it must be--damned tough!" he muttered. 

He tiptoed up and laid his ear against the inner door, and heard asmothered sobbing inside. That did not sound as if she were "mad, " and hepromptly cursed himself for a fool and a brute. With his own judgment toguide him, he brewed some very creditable tea, sugared and creamed itlavishly, browned a slice of bread on top of the stove--blowing off thedust beforehand--after Arline's recipe for making toast, buttered it untilit dripped oil, and carried it in to her with the air of a man who willhave peace even though he must fight for it. The forlorn picture she made, lying there with her face buried in a pink-and-blue cushion, and with hershoulders shaking with sobs, almost made him retreat, quite unnerved. As itwas, he merely spilled a third of the tea and just missed letting the toastslide from the plate to the floor; when he had righted his burden he hadrecovered his composure to a degree. 

"Here, this won't do at all, " he reproved, pulling a chair to the couch bythe simple method of hooking his toe under a round and dragging it towardhim. "You don't want Man to come and catch you acting like this. He'sliable to feel pretty blue himself, and he'll need some cheering up--don'tyou think? I don't know for sure--but I've always been kinda under theimpression that's what a man gets a wife for. Ain't it? You don't want tothrow down your cards now. You sit up and drink this tea, and eat thistoast, and I'll gamble you'll feel about two hundred per cent better. 

"Come, " he urged gently, after a minute. "I never thought a nervy littlewoman like you would give up so easy. I was plumb ashamed of myself, theway you worked on that back fire. You had me going, for a while. You'rejust tired out, is all ails you. You want to hurry up and drink this, before it gets cold. Come on. I'm liable to feel, insulted if you pass upmy cooking this way. "

Val choked back the tears, and, without taking her face from the pillow, put out the burned hand gropingly until it touched his knee. 

"Oh, you--you're good, " she said brokenly. "I used to think youwere--horrid, and I'm a--ashamed. You're good, and I--"

"Well, I ain't going to be good much longer, if you don't get your headouta that pillow and drink this tea!" His tone was amused and halfimpatient. But his face--more particularly his eyes--told another story, which perhaps it was as well she did not read. "I'll be dropping the blamedstuff in another minute. My elbow's plumb getting a cramp in it, " he addedcomplainingly. 

Val made a sound half-way between a sob and a laugh, and sat up. With morehaste than the occasion warranted, Kent put the tea and toast on the chairand started for the kitchen. 

"I was bound you'd eat before I did, " he explained, "and I could stand acup of coffee myself. And, say! If there's anything more you want, justholler, and I'll come on the long lope. "

Val took up the teaspoon, tasted the tea, and then regarded the cupdoubtfully. She never drank sugar in her tea. She wondered how much of ithe had put in. Her head ached frightfully, and she felt weak and utterlyhopeless of ever feeling different. 

"Everything all right?" came Kent's voice from the kitchen. 

"Yes, " Val answered hastily, trying hard to speak with some life and cheerin her tone. "It's lovely--all of it. "

"Want more tea?" It sounded, out there, as though he was pushing back hischair to rise from the table. 

"No, no, this is plenty. " Val glanced fearfully toward the kitchen door, lifted the teacup, and heroically drank every drop. It was, she considered, the least that she could do. 

When he had finished eating he came in, and found her nibblingapathetically at the toast. She looked up at him with an apology in hereyes. 

"Mr. Burnett, don't think I am always so silly, " she began, leaning backagainst the piled pillows with a sigh. "I have always thought that I couldbear anything. But last night I didn't sleep much. I dreamed about fires, and that Manley was--dead--and I woke up in a perfect horror. It was onlyten o'clock. So then I sat up and tried to read, and every five minutes Iwould go out and look at the sky, to see if there was a glow anywhere. It was foolish, of course. And I didn't sleep at all to-day, either. Theminute I would lie down I'd imagine I heard a fire roaring. And then itcame. But I was all used up before that, so I wasn't really--I must havefainted, for I don't remember getting into the house--and I do thinkfainting is the silliest thing! I never did such a thing before, " shefinished abjectly. 

"Oh, well--I guess you had a license to faint if you felt that way, " hecomforted awkwardly. "It was the smoke and the heat, I reckon; they wereenough to put a crimp in anybody. Did Man say about when he would be back?Because I ought to be moving along; it's quite a walk to the Wishbone. "

"Oh--you won't go till Manley comes! Please! I--I'd go crazy, here alone, and--and he might not come--he's frequently detained. I--I've such ahorror of fires--" She certainly looked as if she had. She was sitting upstraight, her hands held out appealingly to him, her eyes big and bright. 

"Sure I won't go if you feel that way about it. " Kent was half frightenedat her wild manner. "I guess Man will be along pretty soon, anyway. He'llhit the trail as soon as he can get behind the fire, that's a cinch. He'llbe worried to death about you. And you don't need to be afraid of prairiefires any more, Mrs. Fleetwood; you're safe. There can't be any more firestill next year, anyway; there's nothing left to burn. " He turned his faceto the window and stared out somberly at the ravaged hillside. "Yes--you'redead safe, now!"

"I'm such a fool, " Val confessed, her eyes also turning to the window, "Ifyou want to go, I--" Her mouth was quivering, and she did not finish thesentence. 

"Oh, I'll stay till Man comes. He's liable to be along any time, now. " Heglanced at her scorched, smoke-stained dress. "He'll sure think you made ahand, all right!"

Val took the hint, and blushed with true feminine shame that she was notlooking her best. "I'll go and change, " she murmured, and rose wearily. "But I feel as if the world had been 'rolled up in a scroll and burned, ' asthe Bible puts it, and as if nothing matters any more. "

"It does, though. We'll all go right along living the same as ever, andthe first snow will make this fire seem as old as the war--except to thecattle; they're the ones to get it in the neck this winter. "

He went out and walked aimlessly around in the yard, and went over to thesmoking remains of the stable, and to the heap of black ashes where thestacks had been. Manley would be hard hit, he knew. He wished he wouldhurry and come, and relieve him of the responsibility of keeping Valcompany. He wondered a little, in his masculine way, that women shouldalways be afraid when there was no cause for fear. For instance, she hadstayed alone a good many times, evidently, when there was real danger of afire sweeping down upon her at any hour of the day or night; but now, whenthere was no longer a possibility of anything happening, she had turnedwhite and begged him to stay--and Val, he judged shrewdly, was not the sortof woman who finds it easy to beg favors of anybody. 

There came a sound of galloping, up on the hill, and he turned quickly. Dull dusk was settling bleakly down upon the land, but he could see threeor four horsemen just making the first descent from the top. He shouted awordless greeting, and heard their answering yells. In another minute ortwo they were pulling up at the house, where he had hurried to meet them. Val, tucking a side comb hastily into her freshly coiled hair, her prettyself clothed all in white linen, appeased eagerly in the doorway. 

"Why--where's Manley?" she demanded anxiously. 

Blumenthall was dismounting near her, and he touched his hat before heanswered. "We were on the way home, and we thought we'd better ride aroundthis way and see how you came out, " he evaded. "I see you lost your hay andbuildings--pretty close call for the house, too, I should judge. You musthave got here in time to do something, Kent. "

"But where's Manley?" Val was growing pale again. "Has anything happened?Is he hurt? Tell me!"

"Oh, he's all right, Mrs. Fleetwood. " Blumenthall glanced meaningly atKent--and Fred De Garmo, sitting to one side of his saddle, looked atPolycarp Jenks and smiled slightly. "We left town ahead of him, and knockedright along. "

Val regarded the group suspiciously. "He's coming, then, is he?"

"Oh, certainly. Glad you're all right, Mrs. Fleetwood. That was an awfulfire--it swept the whole country clean between the two rivers, I'm afraid. This wind made it bad. " He was tightening his cinch, and now he unhookedthe stirrup from the horn and mounted again. "We'll have to be gettingalong--don't know, yet, how we came out of it over to the ranch. But ourguards ought to have stopped it there. " He looked at Kent. "How did theWishbone make it?" he inquired. 

"I was just going to ask you if you knew, " Kent replied, scowling becausehe saw Fred looking at Val in what he considered an impertinent manner. "Myhorse ran off while I was fighting fire here, so I'm afoot. I was waitingfor Man to show up. "

"You'll git all of that you want--_he-he!_" Polycarp cut in tactlessly. "Man won't git home t'-night--not unless--"

"Aw, come on. " Fred started along the charred trail which led across thecoulee and up the farther side. Blumenthall spoke a last, commonplacesentence or two, just to round off the conversation and make thetermination not too abrupt, and they rode away, with Polycarp glancingcuriously back, now and then, as though he was tempted to stay and gossip, and yet was anxious to know all that had happened at the Double Diamond. 

"What did Polycarp Jenks mean--about Manley not coming to-night?" Val wasstanding in the doorway, staring after the group of horsemen. 

"Nothing, I guess, Polycarp never does mean anything half the time; he justtalks to hear his head roar. Man'll come, all right. This bunch happened tobeat him out, is all. "

"Oh, do you think so? Mr. Blumenthall acted as if there was something--"

"Well, what can you expect of a man that lives on oatmeal mush and toastand hot water?" Kent demanded aggressively. "And Fred De Garmo is alwaysgrinning and winking at somebody; and that other fellow is a Swede and gotabout as much sense as a prairie dog--and Polycarp is an old granny gossipthat nobody ever pays any attention to. Man won't stay in town--hell be tooanxious. "

"It's terrible, " sighed Val, "about the hay and the stables. Manley willbe so discouraged--he worked so hard to cut and stack that hay. And he wasjust going to gather the calves together and put them in the river field, in a couple of weeks--and now there isn't anything to feed them!"

"I guess he's coming; I hear somebody. " Kent was straining his eyes to seethe top of the hill, where the dismal sight shadows lay heavily upon thedismal black earth. "Sounds to me like a rig, though. Maybe he drove out. "He left her, went to the wire gate which gave egress from the tiny, unkemptyard, and walked along the trail to meet the newcomer. 

"You stay there, " he called back, when he thought he heard Val followinghim. "I'm just going to tell him you're all right. You'll get that whitedress all smudged up in these ashes. "

In the narrow little gully where the trail crossed the half-dry channelfrom the spring he met the rig. The driver pulled up when he caught sightof Kent. 

"Who's that? Did she git out of it?" cried Arline Hawley, in a breathlessundertone, "Oh--it's you, is it, Kent? I couldn't stand it--I just had tocome and see if she's alive. So I made Hank hitch right up--as soon as weknew the fire wasn't going to git into all that brush along the creek, andrun down to the town--and bring me over. And the way--"

"But where's Man?" Kent laid a hand upon the wheel and shot the questioninto the stream of Arline's talk. 

"Man! I dunno what devil gits into men sometimes. Man went and got drunkas a fool soon as he seen the fire and knew what coulda happened out here. Started right in to drownd his sorrows before he made sure whether he hadany to drown! If that ain't like a man, every time! Time we all got back totown, and the fire was kiting away from us instead of coming up towardus, he was too drunk to do anything. He must of poured it down him by thequart. He--"

"Manley! Is that you, dear?" It was Val, a slim, white figure against theblackness all around her, coming down the trail to see what delayed them. "Why don't you come to the house? There _is_ a house, you know. We aren'tquite burned out. And I'm all right, so there's no need to worry any more. "

"Now, ain't that a darned shame?" muttered Arline wrathfully to Kent. "Afeller that'll drink when he's got a wife like that had oughta be hung!

"It's me, Arline Hawley!" She raised her voice to its ordinary shrilllevel. "It ain't just the proper time to make a call, I guess, but it'sbetter late than never. Man, he was took with one of his spells, so I toldhim I'd come on out and take you back to town. How are you, anyhow? Scaredplumb to death, I'll bet, when that fire come over the hill. You needn't'a' tramped clear down here--we was coming on to the house in a minute. Igot to chewin' the rag with Kent. Git in; you might as well ride back tothe house, now you're here. "

"Manley didn't come?" Val was standing beside the rig, near Kent. Herwhite-clothed figure was indistinct, and her face obscured in the dark. Hervoice was quiet--lifelessly quiet. "Is he sick?"

"Well--of course has nerves was all upset--"

"Oh! Then he _is_ sick?"

"Well--nothing dangerous, but--he wasn't feelin' well, so I thought I'dcome out and take you back with me. "

"Oh!"

"Man was awful worried; you mustn't think he wasn't. He was pretty nearcrazy, for a while. "

"Oh, yes, certainly. "

"Get in and ride. And you mustn't worry none about Man, nor feel hurt thathe didn't come. He felt so bad--"

"I'll walk, thank you; it's only a few steps. And I'm not worried at all. Iquite understand. "

The team started on slowly, and Mrs. Hawley turned in the seat so that shecould continue talking without interruption to the two who walked behind. But it was Kent who answered her at intervals, when she asked a directquestion or appeared to be waiting for some comment. Betweenwhiles he waswondering if Val did, after all, understand. She knew so little of the Westand its ways, and her faith in Manley was so firm and unquestioning, that he felt sure she was only hurt at what looked very much like anindifference to her welfare. He suspected shrewdly that she was thinkingwhat she would have done in Manley's place, and was trying to reconcileMrs. Hawley's assurances that Manley was not actually sick or disabled withthe blunt fact that he had stayed in town and permitted others to come outto see if she were alive or dead. 

And Kent had another problem to solve. Should he tell her the truth? He hadnever ceased to feel, in some measure, responsible for her position. Andshe was sure to discover the truth before long; not even her innocenceand her ignorance of life could shield her from that knowledge. He leta question or two of Arline's go unanswered while he struggled for adecision, but when they reached the house, only one point was dearlysettled in his mind. Instead of riding as far as he might, and then walkingacross the prairie to the Wishbone, he intended to go on to town withthem--"to see her through with it. "

CHAPTER XI

VAL'S AWAKENING

Val stood just inside the door of the hotel parlor and glanced swiftlyaround at the place of unpleasant memory. 

"No, I must see Manley before I can tell you whether we shall want to stayor not, " she replied to Arline's insistence that she "go right up to aroom" and lie down. "I feel quite well, and you must not bother about me atall. If Mr. Burnett will be good enough to send Manley to me--I must seehim first of all. " It was Val in her most unapproachable mood, and Arlinesubsided before it. 

"Well, then, I'll go and send word to Man, and see about some supper forus. I feel as if _I_ could eat ten-penny nails!" She went out into thehall, hesitated a moment, and then boldly invaded the "office. "

"Say! have you got Man rounded up yit?" she demanded of her husband. "Andhow is he, anyhow? That girl ain't got the first idea of what ails him--howanybody with the brains and education she's got can be so thick-headed gitsme. Jim told me Man's been packing a bottle or two home with him every triphe's made for the last month--and she don't know a thing about it. I'd liketo know what 'n time they learn folks back East, anyhow; to put their eyesand their sense in their pockets, I guess, and go along blind as bats. Where's Kent at? Did he go after him? She won't do nothing till she seesMan--"

At that moment Kent came in, and his disgust needed no words. He answeredMrs. Hawley's inquiring look with a shake of the head. 

"I can't do anything with him, " he said morosely. "He's so full he don'tknow he's got a wife, hardly. You better go and tell her, Mrs. Hawley. Somebody's got to. "

"Oh, my heavens!" Arline clutched at the doorknob for moral support. "Icould no more face them yellow eyes of hern when they blaze up--you go tellher yourself, if you want her told. I've got to see about some supper forus. I ain't had a bite since dinner, and Min's off gadding somewheres--"She hurried away, mentally washing her hands of the affair. "Women's got tolearn some time what men is, " she soliloquized, "and I guess she ain'tno better than any of the rest of us, that she can't learn to take hermedicine--but _I_ ain't goin' to be the one to tell her what kinda fellowshe's tied to. My stunt'll be helpin' her pick up the pieces and make thebest of it after she's told. "

She stopped, just inside the dining room, and listened until she heard Kentcross the hall from the office and open the parlor door. "Gee! It's like ahangin', " she sighed. "If she wasn't so plumb innocent--" She startedfor the door which opened into the parlor from the dining room, stronglytempted to eavesdrop. She did yield so far as to put her ear to thekeyhole, but the silence within impressed her strangely, and she retreatedto the kitchen and closed the door tightly behind her as the most practicalmethod of bidding Satan begone. 

The silence in the parlor lasted while Kent, standing with his back againstthe door, faced Val and meditated swiftly upon the manner of his telling. 

"Well?" she demanded at last. "I am still waiting to see Manley. I am notquite a child, Mr. Burnett. I know something is the matter, and you--if youhave any pity, or any feeling of friendship, you will tell me the truth. Don't you suppose I know that Arline was--_lying_ to me all the time aboutManley? You helped her to lie. So did that other man. I waited until Ireached town, where I could do something, and now you must tell me thetruth. Manley is badly hurt, or he is dead. Tell me which it is, and takeme to him. " She spoke fast, as if she was afraid she might not be able tofinish, though her voice was even and low, it was also flat and tonelesswith her effort to seem perfectly calm and self-controlled. 

Kent looked at her, forgot all about leading up to the truth by easystages, as he had intended to do, and gave it to her straight. "He ain'teither one, " he said. "He's drunk!"

Val stared at him. "Drunk!" He could see how even her lips shrank from theword. She threw up her head. "That, " she declared icily, "I know to beimpossible!"

"Oh, do you? Let me tell you that's _never_ impossible with a man, not whenthere's whisky handy. "

"Manley is not that sort of a man. When he left me, three years ago, hepromised me never to frequent places where liquor is sold. He never hadtouched liquor; he never was tempted to touch it. But, just to be doublysure, he promised me, on his honor. He has never broken that promise; Iknow, because he told me so. " She made the explanation scornfully, asif her pride and her belief in Manley almost forbade the indignity ofexplaining. "I don't know why you should come here and insult me, " sheadded, with a lofty charity for his sin. 

"I don't see how it can insult you, " he contended. "You're got a differentway of looking at things, but that won't help you to dodge facts. Man'sdrunk. I said it, and I mean it. It ain't the first time, nor the second. He was drunk the day you came, and couldn't meet the train. That's why Imet you. I ought to've told you, I guess, but I hated to make you feel bad. So I went to work and sobered him up, and sent him over to get married. I've always been kinda sorry for that. It was a low-down trick to play onyou, and that's a fact. You ought to've had a chance to draw outa the game, but I didn't think about it at the time. Man and I have always been prettygood friends, and I was thinking of _his_ side of the case. I thought he'dstraighten up after he got married; he wasn't such a hard drinker--onlyhe'd go on a toot when he got into town, like lots of men. I didn't thinkit had such a strong hold on him. And I knew he thought a lot of you, andif you went back on him it'd hit him pretty hard. Man ain't a bad fellow, only for that. And he's liable to do better when he finds out you knowabout it. A man will do 'most anything for a woman he thinks a lot of. "

"Indeed!" Val was sitting now upon the red plush chair. Her face wasperfectly colorless, her manner frozen. The word seemed to speak itself, without having any relation whatever to her thoughts and her emotions. 

Kent waited. It seemed to him that she took it harder than she would havetaken the news that Manley was dead. He had no means of gauging the horrorof a young woman who has all her life been familiar with such terms as "thedemon rum, " and who has been taught that "intemperance is the doorway toperdition"; a young woman whose life has been sheltered jealously from allcontact with the ugly things of the world, and who believes that she mightbetter die than marry a drunkard. He watched her unobtrusively. 

"Anyway, it was worrying over you that made him get off wrong to-day, " heventured at last, as a sort of palliative. "They say he was going to starthome right in the face of the fire, and when they wouldn't let him, heheaded straight for a saloon and commenced to pour whisky down him. Hethought sure you--he thought the fire would--"

"I see, " Val interrupted stonily. "For the very doubtful honor of shakingthe hand of a politician, he left me alone to face as best I mightthe possibility of burning alive; and when it seemed likely that thepossibility had become a certainty, he must celebrate his bereavement bybecoming a beast. Is that what you would have me believe of my husband?"

"That's about the size of it, " Kent admitted reluctantly. "Only I wouldn'thave put it just that way, maybe. "

"Indeed! And how would you pit it, then?"

Kent leaned harder against the door, and looked at her curiously. Women, itseemed to him, were always going to extremes; they were either too soft andmeek, or else they were too hard and unmerciful. 

"How would you put it? I am rather curious to know your point of view. "

"Well, I know men better than you do, Mrs. Fleetwood. I know they can dosome things that look pretty rotten on the surface, and yet be fairlydecent underneath. You don't know how a habit like that gets a fellow justwhere he's weakest. Man ain't a beast. He's selfish and careless, and hegives way too easy, but he thinks the world of you. Jim says he cried likea baby when he came into the saloon, and acted like a crazy man. You don'twant to be too hard on him. I've an idea this will learn him a lesson. Ifyou take him the right way, Mrs. Fleetwood, the chances are he'll quitdrinking. "

Val smiled. Kent thought he had never before seen a smile like that, andhoped he never would see another. There was in it neither mercy nor mirth, but only the hard judgment of a woman who does not understand. 

"Will you bring him to me here, Mr. Burnett? I do not feel quite equalto invading a saloon and begging him, on my knees, to come--after theconventional manner of drunkards' wives. But I should like to see him. "

Kent stared. "He ain't in any shape to argue with, " he remonstrated. "Youbetter wait a while. "

She rested her chin upon her hands, folded upon the high chair back, andgazed at him with her tawny eyes, that somehow reminded Kent of a lionessin a cage. He thought swiftly that a lioness would have as much mercy asshe had in that mood. 

"Mr. Burnett, " she began quietly, when Kent's nerves were beginning to feelthe strain of her silent stare, "I want to see Manley _as he is now_. Iwill tell you why. You aren't a woman, and you never will understand, but Ishall tell you; I want to tell _somebody_. 

"I was raised well--that sounds queer, but modesty forbids more. At anyrate, my mother was very careful about me. She believed in a girl marryingand becoming a good wife to a good man, and to that end she taught me andtrained me. A woman must give her all--her life, her past, present, andfuture--to the man she marries. For three years I thought how unworthy Iwas to be Manley's wife. _Unworthy_, do you hear? I slept with his lettersunder my pillow. " The self-contempt in her tone! "I studied the things Ithought would make me a better companion out here in the wilderness. Ipracticed hours and hours every day upon my violin, because Manley hadadmired my playing, and I thought it would please him to have me play inthe firelight on winter evenings, when the blizzards were howling about thehouse! I learned to cook, to wash clothes, to iron, to sweep, and to scrub, and to make my own clothes, because Manley's wife would live whereshe could not hire servants to do these things. I lived a beautiful, picturesque dream of domestic happiness. 

"I left my friends, my home, all the things I had been accustomed to all mylife, and I came out here to live that dream!" She laughed bitterly. 

"You can easily guess how much of it has come true, Mr. Burnett. But youdon't know what it costs a girl to come down from the clouds and find thatreality is hard and ugly--from dreaming of a cozy little nest of a home, and the love and care of--of Manley, to the reality--to carrying water andchopping wood and being left alone, day after day, and to find that hislove only meant--Oh, you don't know how a woman clings to her ideals! Youdon't know how I have dung to mine. They have become rather tattered, and Ihave had to mend them often, but I have clung to them, even though they donot resemble much the dreams I brought with me to this horrible country. 

"But if it's true, what you tell me--if Manley himself is anotherdisillusionment--if beyond his selfishness and his carelessness he is adrunken brute whom I can't even respect, then I'm done with my ideals. Iwant to see him just as he is. I want to see him once without the halo Ihave kept shining all these months. I've got my life to live--but I want toface facts and live facts. I can't go on dreaming and making believe, afterthis. " She stopped and looked at him speculatively, absolutely withoutemotion. 

"Just before I left home, " she went on in the same calm quiet, "a girlshowed me some verses written by a very wicked man. At least, they say heis very wicked--at any rate, he is in jail. I thought the verses horribleand brutal; but now I think the man must be very wise. I remember a fewlines, and they seem to me to mean Manley. 

 "For each man kills the thing he loves-- Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word; The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword. 

"I don't remember all of it, but there was another line or two:

 "The kindest use a knife, because The dead so soon grow cold. 

"I wish I had that poem now--I think I could understand it. I think--"

"I think you've got talking hysterics, if there is such a thing, " Kentinterrupted harshly. "You don't know half what you're saying. You've hada hard day, and you're all tired out, and everything looks outa focus. Iknow--I've seen men like that sometimes when some trouble hit 'em hard andunexpected. What you want is sleep; not poetry about killing people. Aman, in the shape you are in, takes to whisky. You're taking to graveyardpoetry--and, if you ask _me_, that's worse than whisky. You ain't normal. What you want to do is go straight to bed. When you wake up in the morningyou won't feel so bad. You won't have half as many troubles as you've gotnow. "

"I knew you wouldn't understand it, " Val remarked coldly, still staring athim with her chin on her hands. 

"You won't yourself, to-morrow morning, " Kent declared unsympathetically, and called Mrs. Hawley from the kitchen. "You better put Mrs. Fleetwoodto bed, " he advised gruffly. "And if you've got anything that'll make hersleep, give her a dose of it. She's so tired she can't see straight. " Hewas nearly to the outside door when Val recovered her speech. 

"You men are all alike, " she said contemptuously. "You give orders and youconsider yourselves above all the laws of morality or decency; in realityyou are beneath them. We shouldn't expect anything of the lower animals!How I _despise_ men!"

"Now you're _talking_, " grinned Kent, quite unmoved. "Whack us in a bunchall you like--but don't make one poor devil take it all. Men as a class areused to it and can stand it. " He was laughing as he left the room, but hisamusement lasted only until the door was closed behind him. "Lord!" heexclaimed, and drew a deep breath. "I'd sure hate to have that littlewoman say all them things about _me!_" and glanced involuntarily over hisshoulder to where a crack of light showed under the faded green shade ofone of the parlor windows. 

He crossed the street and entered the saloon where Manley was stilldrinking heavily, his face crimson and blear-eyed and brutalized, hisspeech thickened disgustingly. He was sprawled in an armchair, waving anempty glass in an erratic attempt to mark the time of a college ditty sixor seven years out of date, which he was trying to sing. He leered up atKent. 

"Wife 'sall righ', " he informed him solemnly. "Knew she would be--fineguards's got out there. 'Sall righ'--somebody shaid sho. Have a drink. "

Kent glowered down at him, made a swift, mental decision, and pipped himby the shoulder. "You come with me, " he commanded. "I've got somethingimportant I want to tell you. Come on--if you can walk. "

"'Course I c'n walk all righ'. Shertainly I can walk. Wha's makes you thinkI can't walk? Want to inshult me? 'Sall my friends here--no secrets from myfriends. Wha's want tell me? Shay it here. "

Kent was a big man; that is to say, he was tall, well-muscled and active. But so was Manley. Kent tried the power of persuasion, leaving force as alast, doubtful result. In fifteen minutes or thereabouts he had succeededin getting Manley outside the door, and there he balked. 

"Wha's matter wish you?" he complained, pulling back. "C'm on back 'n' havedrink. Wha's wanna tell me?"

"You wait. I'll tell you all about it in a minute. I've got something toshow you, and I don't want the bunch to get next. Savvy?"

He had a sickening sense that the subterfuge would not have deceived afive-year-old child, but it was accepted without question. 

He led Manley stumbling up the street, evading a direct statement as to hisdestination, pulled him off the board walk, and took him across a vacantlot well sprinkled with old shoes and tin cans. Here Manley fell down, andKent's patience was well tested before he got him up and going again. 

"Where y' goin'?" Manley inquired pettishly, as often as he could bring histongue to the labor of articulation. 

"You wait and I'll show you, " was Kent's unvaried reply. 

At last he pushed open a door and led his victim into the darkness of asmall, windowless building. "It's in here--back against the wall, there, "he said, pulling Manley after him. By feeling, and by a good sense oflocation, he arrived at a rough bunk built against the farther wall, with ablanket or two upon it. 

"There you are, " he announced grimly. "You'll have a sweet time gettinganything to drink here, old boy. When you're sober enough to face your wifeand have some show of squaring yourself with her, I'll come and let youout. " He had pushed Manley down upon the bunk, and had reached the doorbefore the other could get up and come at him. He pulled the door shutwith a slam, slipped a padlock into the staple, and snapped it just beforeManley lurched heavily against it. He was cursing as well as he could--wasManley, and he began kicking like an unruly child shut into a closet. 

"Aw, let up, " Kent advised him, through a crack in the wall. "Want to knowwhere you are? Well, you're in Hawley's ice house; you know it's a fineplace for drunks to sober up in; it's awful popular for that purpose. Aw, you can't do any business kicking--that's been tried lots of times. Thisis sure well built, for an ice house. No, I can't let you out. Couldn'tpossibly, you know. I haven't got the key--old lady Hawley has got it, andshe's gone to bed hours ago. You go to sleep and forget about it. I'll talkto you in the morning. Good night, and pleasant dreams!"

The last thing Kent heard as he walked away was Manley's profane promise tocut Kent's heart out very early the next day. 

"The darned fool, " Kent commented, as he stopped in the first patch oflamplight to roll a cigarette. "He ain't got another friend in town that'dgo to the trouble I've gone to for him. He'll realize it, too, when allthat whisky quits stewing inside him. "

CHAPTER XII

A LESSON IN FORGIVENESS

"Well, old-timer, how you coming? You sure do sleep sound--this is thethird time I've come to tell you breakfast is ready and then some. You'llget the bottom of the coffeepot, for fair, if you don't hustle. " Kent leftthe door of the ice house wide open behind him, so that the warmth ofmid-morning swept in to do battle with the chill and damp of wet sawdustand buried ice. 

Manley rolled over so that he faced his visitor, and his reply was abusivein the extreme. Kent waited, with an air of impersonal interest, untilhe was done and had turned his face away as though the subject was quiteexhausted. 

"Well, now you've got that load off your mind, come on over and get a cupof coffee. But while you're thinking about whether you want anything but myheart's blood, I'm going to speak right up and tell you a few things thatcommonly ain't none of my business. 

"Do you know your wife came within an ace of burning to death yesterday?"Manley sat up with a jerk and glared at him. "Do you know you're burnedout, slick and clean--all except the shack? Hay, stables, corral, wagons, chickens--" Kent spread his hands in a gesture including all minor details. "I rode over there when I saw the fire coming, and it's lucky I did, old-timer. I back-fired and saved the house--and your wife--from going upin smoke. But everything else went. Let that sink into your system, willyou? And just see if you can draw a picture of what woulda happened ifnobody had showed up--if that fire had hit the coulee with nobody there butyour wife. Why, I run onto her half-way up the bluff, packing a wet sack, to fight it at the fire guards I Now, Man, it ain't any credit to, _you_that the worst didn't happen. I'd sure like to tell you what I think of afellow that will leave a woman out there, twenty miles from town and tenfrom the nearest neighbor--and them not at home--to take a chance on athing like that; but I can't. I never learned words enough. 

"There's another thing. Old lady Hawley took more interest in her thanyou did; she drove out there to see how about it, as soon as the firehad burned on past and left the trail safe. And it didn't look good toher--that little woman stuck out there all by herself. She made her pack upsome clothes, and brought her to town with her. She didn't want to come;she had an idea that she ought to stay with it till you showed up. But theonly original Hawley is sure all right! She talked your wife plumb outa thehouse and into the rig, and brought her to town. She's over to the hotelnow. "

"Val at the hotel? How long has she been there?" Manley began smoothing hishair and his crumpled clothes with his hands, "Good heavens! You told herI'd gone on out, and had missed her on the trail, didn't you, Kent? Shedoesn't know I'm in town, does she? You always were a good fellow--Ihaven't forgotten how you--"

"Well, you can forget it now. I didn't tell her anything like that. Ididn't think of it, for one thing. She knew all the time that you were intown. I'm tired of lying to her. I told her the truth. I told her you weredrunk. "

Manley's jaw dropped. "You--you told her--"

"Ex-actly. I told her you were drunk. " Kent nodded gravely, and his lipscurled as he watched the other cringe. "She called me a liar, " he added, with a certain reminiscent amusement. 

Manley brightened. "That's Val--once she believes in a person she's loyalas--"

"She ain't now, " Kent interposed dryly. "When I let up she was plumbconvinced. She knows now what ailed you the day she came and you didn'tmeet her. "

"You dirty cur! And I thought you were a friend. You--"

"You thought right--until you got to rooting a little too deep in the mud, old-timer. And let me tell you something. I was your friend when I toldher. She's got to know--you couldn't go on like this much longer withouthaving her get wise; she ain't a fool. The thing for you to do now is tobuck up and let her reform you. I've always heard that women are tickledplumb to death when they can reform a man. You go on over there and makeyour little talk, and then buckle down and live up to it. Savvy? That'syour only chance now. It'll work, too. 

"You _ought_ to straighten up, Man, and act white! Not just to squareyourself with her, but because you're going downhill pretty fast, if youonly knew it. You ain't anything like you were two years ago, when webached together. You've got to brace up pretty sudden, or you'll be so fargone you can't climb back. And when a man has got a wife to look after, it seems to me he ought to be the best it's in him to be. You were a finefellow when you first hit the country--and she thought she was getting thatsame fine fellow when she came away out here to marry you. It ain't any ofmy business--but do you think you're giving her a square deal?" He waited aminute, and spoke the next sentence with a certain diffidence. "I'll gambleyou haven't been disappointed in _her_. "

"She's an angel--and I'm a beast!" groaned Manley, with the exaggeratedself-abasement which so frequently follows close upon the heels ofintoxication. "She'll never forgive a thing like that--the best thing I cando is to blow my brains out!"

"Like Walt. And have your picture enlarged and put in a gold frame, andhubby number two learning his morals from your awful example, " elaboratedKent, in much the same tone he had employed when Val, only the day before, had rashly expressed a wish for a speedy death. 

Manley sat up straighter and sent a look of resentment toward the man whobantered when he should have sympathized. "It's all a big joke with you, ofcourse, " he flared weakly. "You're not married--to a perfect woman; a womanwho never did anything wrong in her life, and can't understand how anybodyshould want to, and can't forgive him when he does. She expects a man to bea saint. Why, I don't even smoke in the house--and she doesn't dream I'dever swear, under any circumstances. 

"Why, Kent, a fellow's _got_ to go to town and turn himself loosesometimes, when he lives in a rarified atmosphere of refined morality, andlistens to Songs Without Words and weepy classics on the violin, and nevera thing to make your feet tingle. She doesn't believe in public dances, either. Nor cards. She reads 'The Ring and the Book' evenings, and wants todiscuss it and read passages of it to me. I used to take some interest inthose things, and she doesn't seem to see I've changed. Why, hang it, Kent, Cold Spring Coulee's no place for Browning--he doesn't fit in. All thatsort of thing is a thousand miles behind me--and I've got to--" He stoppedshort and brooded, his eyes upon the dank sawdust at his feet. 

"I'm a beast, " he repeated rather lugubriously. "She's an angel--anEastern-bred angel. And let me tell you, Kent, all that's pretty hard tolive up to!"

Kent looked down at him meditatively, wondering if there was not a gooddeal of truth and justice in Manley's argument. But his sympathies hadalready gone to the other side, and Kent was not the man to make anemotional pendulum of himself. 

"Well, what you going to do about it?" he asked, after a short silence. 

For answer Manley rose to his feet with a certain air of determination, which flamed up oddly above his general weakness, like the last sputterof a candle burned down. "I'm going over and take my medicine--face themusic, " he said almost sullenly, "She's too good for me--I always knew it. And I haven't treated her right--I've left her out there alone too much. But she wouldn't come to town with me--she said she couldn't endure thesight of it. What could I do? _I_ couldn't stay out there all the time;there were times when I had to come. She didn't seem to mind staying alone. She never objected. She was always sweet sad good-natured--and shut upinside of herself. She just gives you what she pleases of her mind, and therest she hides--"

Kent laughed suddenly. "You married men sure do have all kinds of trouble, "he remarked. "A fellow like me can go on a jamboree any time he likes, andas long as he likes, and it don't concern anybody but himself--and maybethe man he's working for; and look at you, scared plumb silly thinking ofwhat your wife's going to say about it. If you ask me, I'm going to trotalone; I'd rather be lonesome than good, any old time. "

That, however, did not tend to raise Manley's spirits any. He entered thehotel with visible reluctance, looked into the parlor, and heaved a sighof relief when he saw that it was empty, wavered at the foot of the steep, narrow stairs, and retreated to the dining room, with Kent at his heelsknowing that the matter had passed quite beyond his help or hindrance andhad entered that mysterious realm of matrimony where no unwedded man orwoman may follow and yet is curious enough to linger. 

Just inside the door Manley stopped so suddenly that Kent bumped againsthim. Val, sweet and calm and cool, was sitting just where the smoke-dimmedsunlight poured in through a window upon her, and a breeze came with it andstirred her hair. She had those purple shadows under her eyes which betrayus after long, sleepless hours when we live with our troubles and the worlddreams around us; she had no color at all in her cheeks, and she had thataloofness of manner which Manley, in his outburst, had described as beingshut up inside herself. She glanced up at them, just as she would have donehad they both been strangers, and went on sugaring her coffee with a daintyexactness which, under the circumstances, seemed altogether too elaborateto be unconscious. 

"Good morning, " she greeted them quietly. "I think we must be the laziestpeople in town; at any rate, we seem to be the latest risers. "

Kent stared at her frankly, so that she flushed a little under thescrutiny. Manley consciously avoided looking at her, and muttered somethingunintelligible while he pulled out a chair three places distant from her. 

Val stole a sidelong, measuring look at her husband while she took a sip ofcoffee, and then her eyes turned upon Kent. More than ever, it seemed tohim, they resembled the eyes of a lioness watching you quietly from thecorner of her cage. You could look at them, but you could not look intothem. Always they met your gaze with a baffling veil of inscrutability. Butthey were darker than the eyes of a lioness; they were human eyes; womaneyes--alluring eyes. She did not say a word, and, after a brief stare whichmight have meant almost anything, she turned to her plate of toast andbroke away the burned edges of a slice and nibbled at the passable centeras if she had no trouble beyond a rather unsatisfactory breakfast. 

It was foolish, it was childish for three people who knew one another verywell, to sit and pretend to eat, and to speak no word; so Kent thought, and tried to break the silence with some remark which would not soundconstrained. 

"It's going to storm, " he flung into the silence, like chucking a rock intoa pond. 

"Do you think so?" Val asked languidly, just grazing him with a glance, in that inattentive way she sometimes had. "Are you going out home--or towhat's left of it--to-day, Manley?" She did not look at him at all, Kentobserved. 

"I don't know--I'll have to hire a team--I'll see what--"

"Mrs. Hawley thinks we ought to stay here for a few days--or that Iought--while you make arrangements for building a new stable, and allthat. "

"If you want to stay, " Manley agreed rather eagerly, "why, of course, youcan. There's nothing out there to--"

"Oh, it doesn't matter in the slightest degree where I stay. I onlymentioned it because I promised her I would speak to you about it. " Therewas more than languor in her tone. 

"They're going to start the fireworks pretty quick, " Kent mentallydiagnosed the situation and rose hurriedly. "Well, I've got to hunt ahorse, myself, and pull out for the Wishbone, " he explained gratuitously. "Ought to've gone last night. Good-bye. " He closed the door behind him andshrugged his shoulders. "Now they can fight it out, " he told himself. "Glad_I_ ain't a married man!"

However, they did not fight it out then. Kent had no more than reached theoffice when Val rose, hoped that Manley would please excuse her, and leftthe room also. Manley heard her go up-stairs, found out from Arline whatwas the number of Val's room, and followed her. The door was locked, butwhen he rapped upon it Val opened it an inch and held it so. 

"Val, let me in. I want to talk with you. I--God knows how sorry I am--"

"If He does, that ought to be sufficient, " she answered coldly. "I don'tfeel like talking now--especially upon the subject you would choose. You'rea man, supposedly. You must know what it is your duty to do. Please let usnot discuss it--now or ever. 

"But, Val--"

"I don't want to talk about it, I tell you! I won't--I _can't_. You must dowithout the conventional confession and absolution. You must have some sortof conscience--let that receive your penitence. " She started to close thedoor, but he caught it with his hand. 

"Val--do you hate me?"

She looked at him for a moment, as if she were trying to decide. "No, " shesaid at last, "I don't think I do; I'm quite sure that I do not. But I'mterribly hurt and disappointed. " She closed the door then and turned thekey. 

Manley stood for a moment rather blankly before it, then put his hands asdeep in his pockets as they would go, and went slowly down the stairs. Atthat moment he did not feel particularly penitent. She would not listen to"the conventional confession!"

"That girl can be hard as nails!" he muttered, under his breath. 

He went into the office, got a cigar, and lighted it moodily. He glanced atthe bottles ranged upon the shelves behind the bar, drew in his breath forspeech, let it go in a sigh, and walked out. He knew perfectly well whatVal had meant. She had deliberately thrown him back upon his own strength. He had fallen by himself, he must pick himself up; and she would standback and watch the struggle, and judge him according to his failure or hissuccess. He had a dim sense that it was a dangerous experiment. 

He looked for Kent, found him just as he was mounting at the stables, andlet him go almost without a word. After all, no one could help him. Hestood there smoking after Kent had gone, and when his cigar was finished hewandered back to the hotel. As was always the case after hard drinking, hehad a splitting headache. He got a room as close to Val's as he could, shut himself into it, and gave himself up to his headache and to gloomymeditation. All day he lay upon the bed, and part of the time he slept. Atsupper time he rapped upon Val's door, got no answer, and went down alone, to find her in the dining room. There was an empty chair beside her, and hetook it as his right. She talked a little--about the fire and the damage ithad done. She said she was worried because she had forgotten to bring thecat, and what would it find to eat out there?

"Everything's burned perfectly black for miles and miles, you know, " shereminded him. 

They left the room together, and he followed her upstairs and to her door. This time she did not shut him out, and he went in and sat down by thewindow, and looked out upon the meager little street. Never, in the yearshe had known her, had she been so far from him. He watched her covertlywhile she searched for something in her suit case. 

"I'm afraid I didn't bring enough clothes to last more than a day or two, "she remarked. "I couldn't seem to think of anything that night. Arline didmost of the packing for me. I'm afraid I misjudged that woman, Manley;there's a good deal to her, after all. But she _is_ funny. "

"Val, I want to tell you I'm going to--to be different. I've been a beast, but I'm going to--" So much he had rushed out before she could freeze himto silence again. 

"I hope so, " she cut in, as he hesitated, "That is something you must judgefor yourself, and do by yourself. Do you think you will be able to get ateam tomorrow?"

"Oh--to hell with a team!" Manley exploded. 

Val dropped her hairbrush upon the floor. "Manley Fleetwood! Has it cometo that, also? Isn't it enough to--" She choked. "Manley, you can be a--adrunken sot, if you choose--I've no power to prevent you; but you shallnot swear in my presence. I thought you had some of the instincts of agentleman, but--" She set her teeth hard together. She was white around themouth, and her whole, slim body was aquiver with outraged dignity. 

There was something queer in Manley's eyes as he looked at her, the lengthof the tiny room between them. 

"Oh, I beg your pardon. I remember, now, your Fern Hill ethics. I may _go_to hell, for all of you--you will simply hold back your immaculate, moralskirts so that I may pass without smirching them; but I must not mention mydestination--that is so unrefined!" He got up from the chair, with a laughthat was almost a snort. "You refuse to discuss a certain subject, thoughit's almost a matter of life and death with me; at least, it was. Yourhappiness and my own was at stake, I thought. But it's all right--I needn'thave worried about it. I still have some of the instincts of a gentleman, and your pure ears shall not be offended by any profanity or anydisagreeable 'conventional confessions. ' The absolution, let me say, Iexpected to do without. " He started, full of some secret intent, for thedoor. 

Val humanized suddenly. By the time his fingers touched the door knob shehad read his purpose, had readied his side, and was clutching his arm withboth her hands. 

"Manley Fleetwood, what are you going to do?" She was actually panting withthe jump of her heart. 

He turned the knob, so that the latch clicked. "Get drunk. Be the drunkensot you expect me to be. Go to that vulgar place which I must not mentionin your presence. Let go my arm, Val. "

She was all woman, then. She pulled him away from the door and the unnamedhorror which lay outside. She was not the crying sort, but she cried, justthe same--heartbrokenly, her head against his shoulder, as if she herselfwere the sinner. She clung to him, she begged him to forgive her hardness. 

She learned something which every woman must learn if she would keep alittle happiness in her life: she learned how to forgive the man she loved, and to trust him afterward. 

CHAPTER XIII

ARLINE GIVES A DANCE

A house, it would seem, is almost the least important part of a ranch;one can camp, with frying pan and blankets, in the shade of a bush or theshelter of canvas. But to do anything upon a ranch, one must have manythings--burnable things, for the most part, as Manley was to learn byexperience when he left Val at the hotel and rode out, the next day, toCold Spring Coulee. 

To ride over twenty miles of blackness is depressing enough in itself, but to find, at the end of the journey, that one's work has all gonefor nothing, and one's money and one's plans and hopes, is worse thandepressing. Manley sat upon his horse and gazed rather blankly at the heapof black cinders that had been his haystacks, and at the cold embers wherehad stood his stables, and at the warped bits of iron that had been hisbuckboard, his wagon, his rake and mower--all the things he had gatheredaround him in the three years he had spent upon the place. 

The house merely emphasized his loss. He got down, picked up the cat, whichwas mewing plaintively beside his horse, snuggled it into his arm, andremounted. Val had told him to be sure and find the cat, and bring it backwith him. His horses and his cattle--not many, to be sure, in that land oflarge holdings--were scattered, and it would take the round-up to gatherthem together again. So the cat, and the horse he rode, the bleak coulee, and the unattractive little house with its three rooms and its meagerporch, were all that he could visualize as his worldly possessions. Andwhen he thought of his bank account he winced mentally. Before snow fell hewould be debt-ridden, the best he could do. For he must have a stable, andcorral, and hay, and a wagon, and--he refused to remind himself of all thethings he must have if he would stay on the ranch. 

His was not a strong nature at best, and now he shrank from facing hismisfortune and wanted only to get away from the place. He loped his horsehalf-way up the hill, which was not merciful riding. The half-starved catyowled in his arms, and struck her claws through his coat till he felt theprick of them, and he swore; at the cat, nominally, but really at the trickfate had played upon him. 

For a week he dallied in town, without heart or courage though Val urgedhim to buy lumber and build, and cheered him as best she could. He did makea half-hearted attempt to get lumber to the place, but there seemed to beno team in town which he could hire. Every one was busy, and put him off. He tried to buy hay of Blumenthall, of the Wishbone, of every man he metwho had hay. No one had any hay to sell, however. Blumenthall complainedthat he was short, himself, and would buy if he could, rather than sell. The Wishbone foreman declared profanely--that hay was going to be worth adollar a pound to _them_, before spring. They were all sorry for Manley, and told him he was "sure playing tough luck, " but they couldn't sell anyhay, that was certain. 

"But we must manage somehow to fix the place so we can live on it thiswinter, " Val would insist, when he told her how every move seemed blocked. "You're very brave, dear, and I'm proud of the way you are holding out--butHope is not a good place for you. It would be foolish to stay in town. Can't you buy enough hay here in town--baled hay from the store--to keepour horses through the winter?"

"Well, I tried, " Manley responded gloomily. "But Brinberg is nearly out. He's expecting a carload in, but it hasn't come yet. He said he'd let meknow when it gets here. "

Meanwhile the days slipped away, and imperceptibly the heat and haze of thefires gave place to bright sunlight and chill winds, and then to the chillwinds without the sunshine. One morning the ground was frozen hard, and allthe roofs gleamed white with the heavy frost. Arline bestirred herself, andhad a heating stove set up in the parlor, and Val went down to the dry heatand the peculiar odor of a rusted stove in the flush of its first firesince spring. 

The next day, as she sat by her window up-stairs, she looked out at thefirst nip of winter. A few great snowflakes drifted down from the slatysky; a puff of wind sent them dancing down the street, shook more down, and whirled them giddily. Then the storm came and swept through the littlestreet and whined lonesomely around the hotel. 

Over at the saloon--"Pop's Place, " it proclaimed itself in washed-outlettering--three tied horses circled uneasily until they were standing backto the storm, their bodies hunched together with the chill of it, theirtails whipping between their legs. They accentuated the blank dreariness ofthe empty street. The snow was whitening their rumps and clinging, in tinydrifts, upon the saddle skirts behind the cantles. 

All the little hollows of the rough, frozen ground were filling slowly, making white patches against the brown of the earth--patches which widenedand widened until they met, and the whole street was blanketed with fresh, untrodden snow. Val shivered suddenly, and hurried down-stairs where theair was warm and all a-steam with cooking, and the odor of frying onionssmote the nostrils like a blow in the face. 

"I suppose we must stay here, now, till the storm is over, " she sighed, when she met Manley at dinner. "But as soon as it clears we must go back tothe ranch. I simply cannot endure another week of it. "

"You're gitting uneasy--I seen that, two or three days ago, " said Arline, who had come into the dining room with a tray of meat and vegetables, andoverheard her. "You want to stay, now, till after the dance. There's goingto be a dance Friday night, you know--everybody's coming. You got to waitfor that. "

"I don't attend public dances, " Val stated calmly. "I am going home as soonas the storm clears--if Manley can buy a little hay, and find our horses, and get some sort of a driving vehicle. "

"Well, if he can't, maybe he can round up a _ridin'_ vee-hicle, " Arlineremarked dryly, placing the meat before Manley, the potatoes before Val, and the gravy exactly between the two, with mathematical precision. "I'mgivin' that dance myself. You'll have to go--I'm givin' it in your honor. "

"In--my--why, the _idea!_ It's good of you, but--"

"And you're goin', and you're goin' to take your vi'lin over and play ussome pieces. I tucked it into the rig and brought it in, on purpose. Iplanned out the hull thing, driving out to your place. In case you wasn'tall burned up, I made up my mind I was going to give you a dance, and gityou acquainted with folks. You needn't to hang back--I've told everybody itwas in your honor, and that you played the vi'lin swell, and we'd havesome real music. And I've sent to Chinook for the dance music--harp, twofiddles, and a coronet--and you ain't going to stall the hull thing now. Ididn't mean to tell you till the last minute, but you've got to have timeto mate up your mind you'll go to a public dance for oncet in your life. It ain't going to hurt you none. I've went, ever sence I was big enough toreach up and grab holt of my pardner--and I'm every bit as virtuous as yoube. You're going, and you'n Man are going to head the grand march. "

Val's face was flushed, her lips pursed, and her eyes wide. Plainly she wasnot quite sure whether she was angry, amused, or insulted. She descendedstraight to a purely feminine objection. 

"But I haven't a thing to wear, and--"

"Oh, yes, you have. While you was dillydallying out in the front room, thatnight, wondering whether you'd have hysterics, or faint, or what all, Idug deep in that biggest trunk of yourn, and fished up one of your partydresses--white satin, it is, with embroid'ry all up 'n' down the front, andslimpsy lace; it's kinda low-'n'-behold--one of them--"

"My white satin--why, Mrs. Hawley! That--you must have brought the gown Iwore to my farewell club reception. It has a train, and--why, the _idea!_"

"You can cut off the trail--you got plenty of time--or you can pin it up. I didn't have time that night to see how the thing was made, and I took itbecause I found white skirts and stockin's, and white satin slippers to gowith it, right handy. You're a bride, and white'll be suitable, and thedance is in your honor. Wear it just as it is, fer all me. Show the folkswhat real clothes look like. I never seen a woman dressed up that way inmy hull life. You wear it, Val, trail 'n' all. I'll back you up in it, andtell folks it's my idee, and not yourn. "

"I'm not in the habit of apologizing to people for the clothes I wear. " Vallifted her chin haughtily. "I am not at all sure that I shall go. In fact, I--"

"Oh, you'll go!" Arline rested her arms upon her bony hips and snapped hermeager jaws together. "You'll go, if I have to carry you over. I've sentfor fifteen yards of buntin' to decorate the hall with. I ain't going toall that trouble for nothing. I ain't giving a dance in honor of a certainperson, and then let that person stay away. You--why, you'd queer yourselfwith the hull country, Val Fleetwood! You ain't got the least sign of anexcuse You got the clothes, and you ain't sick. There's a reason why yougot to show up. I ain't going into no details at present, but under thecircumstances, it's _advisable_. " She smelled something burning then, andbolted for the kitchen, where her sharp, rather nasal voice was heardupbraiding Minnie for some neglect. 

Polycarp Jenks came in, eyed Val and Manley from under one lifted, eyebrow, smiled skinnily, and pulled out a chair with a rasping noise, and sat downfacing them. Instinctively Val refrained from speaking her mind aboutArline and her dance before Polycarp, but afterward, in their own room, she grew rather eloquent upon the subject. She would not go. She would notpermit that woman to browbeat her into doing what she did not want to do, she said. In her honor, indeed! The impertinence of going to the bottom ofher trunk, and meddling with her clothes--with that reception gown, of allothers! The idea of wearing that gown to a frontier dance--even if sheconsented to go to such a dance! And expecting her to amuse the company byplaying "pieces" on the violin!

"Well, why not?" Manley was sitting rather apathetically upon the edge ofthe bed, his arms resting upon his knees, his eyes moodily studying theintricate rose pattern in the faded Brussels carpet. They were the firstwords he had spoken; one might easily have doubted whether he had heard allVal said. 

"Why not? Manley Fleetwood, do you mean to tell me--"

"Why not go, and get acquainted, and quit feeling that you're a pearl castamong swine? It strikes me the Hawley person is pretty level-headed on thesubject. If you're going to live in this country, why not quit thinkinghow out of place you are, and how superior, and meet us all on a level? Itwon't hurt you to go to that dance, and it won't hurt you to play for them, if they want you to. You _can_ play, you know; you used to play at all themusical doings in Fern Hill, and even in the city sometimes. And, let metell you, Val, we aren't quite savages, out here. I've even suspected, sometimes, that we're just as good as Fern Hill. "

"We?" Val looked at him steadily. "So you wish to identify yourself withthese people--with Polycarp Jenks, and Arline Hawley, and--"

"Why not? They're shaky on grammar, and their manners could stand a littlepolish, but aside from that they're exactly like the people you've livedamong all your life. Sure, I wish to identify myself with them. I'm just arancher--pretty small punkins, too, among all these big outfits, and you'rea rancher's wife. The Hawley person could buy us out for cash to-morrow, ifshe wanted to, and never miss the money. And, Val, she's giving that dancein your honor; you ought to appreciate that. The Hawley doesn't take afancy to every woman she sees--and, let me tell you, she stands ace-high inthis country. If she didn't like you, she could make you wish she did. "

"Well, upon my word! I begin to suspect you of being a humorist, Manley. And even if you mean that seriously--why, it's all the funnier. " To proveit, she laughed. 

Manley hesitated, then left the room with a snort, a scowl, and a slam ofthe door; and the sound of Val's laughter followed him down the stairs. 

Arline came up, her arms full of white satin, white lace, white cambric, and the toes of two white satin slippers showing just above the top of herapron pockets. She walked briskly in and deposited her burden upon the bed. 

"My! them's the nicest smellin' things I ever had a hold of, " she observed. "And still they don't seem to smell, either. Must be a dandy perfumeryyou've got. I brought up the things, seein' you know they're here. Ithought you could take your time about cuttin' off the trail and fillin' inthe neck and sleeves. "

She sat down upon the foot of the bed, carefully tucking her gingham apronclose about her so that it might not come in contact with the other. 

"I never did see such clothes, " she sighed. "I dunno how you'll ever gita chancet to wear 'em out in this country--seems to me they're most toopretty to wear, anyhow, I can git Marthy Winters to come over and helpyou--she does sewin'--and you can use my machine any time you want to. I'dtake a hold myself if I didn't have all the baking to do for the dance. That Min can't learn nothing, seems like. I can't trust her to do a thing, hardly, unless I stand right over her. Breed girls ain't much account ever;but they're all that'll work out, in this country, seems like. Sometimes Iswear I'll git a Chink and be done with it--only I got to have somebody Ican talk to oncet in a while. I couldn't never talk to a Chink--they don'tseem hardly human to me. Do they to you?

"And say! I've got some allover lace--it's eecrue--that you can fill in theneck with; you're welcome to use it--there's most a yard of it, and I won'tnever find a use for it. Or I was thinkin', there'll be enough cut off'nthe trail to make a gamp of the satin, sleeves and all. " She lifted theshining stuff with manifest awe. "It does seem a shame to put the shearsto it--but you never'll git any wear out of it the way it is, and I don'tbelieve--"

"Mis' _Hawley!_" shrilled the voice of Minnie at the foot of the stairs. "There's a couple of _drummers_ off'n the _train_, 'n' they want _supper_, 'n' what'll I _give_ 'em?"

"My heavens! That girl'll drive me crazy, sure!" Arline hurried to thedoor. "Don't take the roof off'n the house, " she cried querulously down thestairway. "I'm comin'. "

Val had not spoken a word. She went over to the bed, lifted a fold ofsatin, and smiled down at it ironically. "Mamma and I spent a whole monthplanning and sewing and gloating over you, " she said aloud. "You werealmost as important as a wedding gown; the club's farewell reception--'Towhat base uses we do--'"

"Oh, here's your slippers!" Arline thrust half her body into the room andheld the slippers out to Val. "I stuck 'em into my pockets to bring up, andforgot all about 'em, mind you, till I was handin' the drummers their tea. And one of 'em happened to notice 'em, and raised right up outa his chair, an' said: 'Cind'rilla, sure as I live! Say, if there's a foot in this townthat'll go into them slippers, for God's sake introduce me to the owner!'I told him to mind his own business. Drummers do get awful fresh when theythink they can get away with it. " She departed in a hurry, as usual. 

Every day after that Arline talked about altering the satin gown. Every dayVal was noncommittal and unenthusiastic. Occasionally she told Arline thatshe was not going to the dance, but Arline declined to take seriously sopreposterous a declaration. 

"You want to break a leg, then, " she told Val grimly on Thursday. "That'sthe only excuse that'll go down with this bunch. And you better git a moveon--it comes off to-morrer night, remember. "

"I won't go, Manley!" Val consoled herself by declaring, again and again. "The idea of Arline Hawley ordering me about like a child! Why should I goif I don't care to go?"

"Search me. " Manley shrugged his shoulders. "It isn't so long, though, since you were just as determined to stay and have the shivaree, youremember. "

"Well, you and Mr. Burnett tried to do exactly what Arline is doing. Youseemed to think I was a child, to be ordered about. "

At the very last minute--to be explicit, an hour before the hall waslighted, several hours after smoke first began to rise from the chimney, Val suddenly swerved to a reckless mood. Arline had gone to her own room todress, too angry to speak what was in her mind. She had worked since fiveo'clock that morning. She had bullied Val, she had argued, she had begged, she had wheedled. Val would not go. Arline had appealed to Manley, andManley had assured her, with a suspicious slurring of his _esses_ that hewas out of it, and had nothing to say. Val, he said, could not be driven. 

It was after Arline had gone to her room and Manley had returned to the"office" that Val suddenly picked up her hairbrush and, with an impishlight in her eyes, began to pile her hair high upon her head. With her lipscurved to match the mockery of her eyes, she began hurriedly to dress. Later, she went down to the parlor, where four women from the neighboringranches were sitting stiffly and in constrained silence, waiting to beescorted to the hall. She swept in upon them, a glorious, shimmery creatureall in white and gold. The women steed, wavered, and looked away--at thewall, the floor, at anything but Val's bare, white shoulders and arms aswhite. Arline had forgotten to look for gloves. 

Val read the consternation in their weather-tanned faces, and smiled inwicked enjoyment. She would shock all of Hope; she would shock even Arline, who had insisted upon this. Like a child in mischief, she turned and wentrustling down the ball to the dining room. She wanted to show Arline. Shehad not thought of the possibility of finding any one but Arline and Minniethere, so that she was taken slightly aback when she discovered Kent andanother man eating a belated supper. 

Kent looked up, eyed her sharply for just an instant, and smiled. 

"Good evening, Mrs. Fleetwood, " he said calmly. "Ready for the ball, I see. We got in late. " He went on spreading butter upon his bread, evidentlyquite unimpressed by her magnificence. 

The other man stared fixedly at his plate. It was a trifle, but Valsuddenly felt foolish and ashamed. She took a step or two toward thekitchen, then retreated; down the hall she went, up the stairs and into herown room, the door of which she shut and locked. 

"Such a fool!" she whispered vehemently, and stamped her white-shod footupon the carpet. "He looked perfectly disgusted--and so did that other man. And no wonder. Such--it's _vulgar_, Val Fleetwood! It's just ill-bred, andcoarse, and horrid!" She threw herself upon the bed and put her face in thepillow. 

Some one--she thought it sounded like Manley--came up and tried the door, stood a moment before it, and went away again. Arline's voice, sharpenedwith displeasure, she heard speaking to Minnie upon the stairs. They wentdown, and there was a confusion of voices below. In the street beneath herwindow footsteps sounded intermittently, coming and going with a certaineagerness of tread. After a time there came, from a distance, the sound ofviolins and the "coronet" of which Arline had been so proud; and mingledwith it was an undercurrent of shuffling feet, a mere whisper of sound, cutsharply now and then by the sharp commands of the floor manager. They weredancing--in her honor. And she was a fool; a proud, ill-tempered, selfishfool. . 

With one of her quick changes of mood she rose, patted her hair smooth, caught up a wrap oddly inharmonious with the gown and slippers, loopedher train over her arm, tool her violin, and ran lightly down-stairs. Theparlor, the dining room, the kitchen were deserted and the lights turnedlow. She braced herself mentally, and, flushing at the unaccustomed act, rapped timidly upon the door which opened into the office--which by thattime she knew was really a saloon. Hawley himself opened the door, and inhis eyes bulged at sight of her. 

"Is Mr. Fleetwood here? I--I thought, after all, I'd go to the dance, " shesaid, in rather a timid voice, shrinking back into the shadow. 

"Fleetwood? Why, I guess he's gone on over. He said you wasn't going. Youwait a minute. I--here, Kent! You take Mrs. Fleetwood over to the hall. Man's gone. "

"Oh, no! I--really, it doesn't matter--"

But Kent had already thrown away his cigarette and come out to her, closingthe door immediately after him. 

"I'll take you over--I was just going, anyway, " He assured her, his eyesdwelling upon her rather intently. 

"Oh--I wanted Manley. I--I hate to go--like this, it seems so--so queer, inthis place. At first I--I thought it would be a joke, but it isn't; it'ssilly and, --and ill-bred. You--everybody will be shocked, and--"

Kent took a step toward her, where she was shrinking against the stairway. Once before she had lost her calm composure and had let him peep into hermind. Then it had been on account of Manley; now, womanlike, it was herclothes. 

"You couldn't be anything but all right, if you tried, " he told her, speaking softly. "It isn't silly to look the way the Lord meant you tolook. You--you--oh, you needn't worry--nobody's going to be shocked veryhard. " He reached out and took the violin from her; took also her armand opened the outer door. "You're late, " he said, speaking in a morecommonplace tone. "You ought to have overshoes, or something--those whiteslippers won't be so white time you get there. Maybe I ought to carry you. "

"The idea!" she stepped out daintily upon the slushy walk. 

"Well, I can take you a block or two around, and have sidewalk all the way;that'll help some. Women sure are a lot of bother--I'm plumb sorry for thepoor devils that get inveigled into marrying one. "

"Why, Mr. Burnett! Do you always talk like that? Because if you do, I don'twonder--"

"No, " Kent interrupted, looking down at her and smiling grimly, "as ithappens, I don't. I'm real nice, generally speaking. Say! this is going tobe a good deal of trouble, do you know? After you dance with hubby, you'vegot to waltz with me. "

"_Got_ to?" Val raised her eyebrows, though the expression was lost uponhim. 

"Sure. Look at the way I worked like a horse, saving your life--and thecat's--and now leading you all over town to keep those nice white slippersclean! By rights, you oughtn't to dance with anybody else. But I ain'tlooking for real gratitude. Four or five waltzes is all I'll insist on, but--" His tone was lugubrious in the extreme. 

"Well, I'll waltz with you once--for saving the cat; and once for savingthe slippers. For saving me, I'm not sure that I thank you. " Val steppedcarefully over a muddy spot on the walk. "Mr. Burnett, you--really, you'rean awfully queer man. "

Kent walked to the next crossing and helped her over it before he answeredher. "Yes, " he admitted soberly then, "I reckon you're right. I am--queer. "

CHAPTER XIV

A WEDDING PRESENT

Sunday it was, and Val had insisted stubbornly upon going back to theranch; somewhat to her surprise, if one might judge by her face, ArlineHawley no longer demurred, but put up lunch enough for a week almost, andannounced that she was going along. Hank would have to drive out, to bringback the team, and she said she needed a rest, after all the work and worryof that dance. Manley, upon whose account it was that Val was so anxious, seemed to have nothing whatever to say about it. He was sullenlyacquiescent--as was perhaps to be expected of a man who had slipped intohis old habits and despised himself for doing so, and almost hated his wifebecause she had discovered it and said nothing. Val was thankful, duringthat long, bleak ride over the prairie, for Arline's incessant chatter. Itwas better than silence, when the silence means bitter thoughts. 

"Now, " said Arline, moving excitedly in her seat when they neared ColdSpring Coulee, "maybe I better tell you that the folks round here has kindaplanned a little su'prise for you. They don't make much of a showin' aboutbein' neighborly--not when things go smooth--but they're right there whentrouble comes. It's jest a little weddin' present--and if it comes kindalate in the day, why, you don't want to mind that. My dance that I gave wasa weddin' party, too, if you care to call it that. Anyway, it was to raisethe money to pay for our present, as far as it went--and I want to tell youright now, Val, that you was sure the queen of the ball; everybody said youlooked jest like a queen in a picture, and I never heard a word ag'instyour low-neck dress. It looked all right on _you_, don't you see? On me, for instance, it woulda been something fierce. And I'm real glad you took ahold and danced like you did, and never passed nobody up, like some wouldadone. You'll be glad you did, now you know what it was for. Even dancedwith Polycarp Jenks--and there ain't hardly any woman but what'll turn_him_ down; I'll bet he tromped all over your toes, didn't he?"

"Sometimes, " Val admitted. "What about the surprise you were speaking of, Mrs. Hawley?"

"It does seem as if you might call me Arline, " she complained irrelevantly. "We're comin' to that--don't you worry. "

"Is it--a piano?"

"My lands, no! You don't need a fiddle and a piano both, do you? Man, what'd you rather have for a weddin' present?"

Manley, upon the front seat beside Hank, gave his shoulders an impatienttwitch. "Fifty thousand dollars, " he replied glumly. 

"I'm glad you're real modest about it, " Arline retorted sharply. She wasbeginning to tell herself quite frequently that she "didn't have no timefor Man Fleetwood, seeing he wouldn't brace up and quit drinkin. "

Val's lips curled as she looked at Manley's back. "What I should like, " shesaid distinctly, "is a great, big pile of wood, all cut and ready for thestove, and water pails that never would go empty. It's astonishing howone's desires eventually narrow down to bare essentials, isn't it? But aswe near the place, I find those two things more desirable than a piano!"Then she bit her lip angrily because she had permitted herself to give thethrust. 

"Why, you poor thing! Man Fleetwood, do you--"

Val impulsively caught her by the arm. "Oh, hush! I was only joking, " shesaid hastily. "I was trying to balance Manley's wish for fifty thousanddollars, don't you see? It was stupid of me, I know. " She laughedunconvincingly. "Let me guess what the surprise is. First, is it large orsmall?"

"Kinda big, " tittered Arline, falling into the spirit of the joke. 

"Bigger than a--wait, now. A sewing machine?"

Arline covered her mouth with her hand and nodded dumbly. 

"You say all the neighbors gave it and the dance helped pay for it--let mesee. Could it possibly be--what in the world could it be? Manley, help meguess! Is it something useful, or just something nice?"

"Useful, " said Arline, and snapped her jaws together as if she feared tolet another word loose. 

"Larger than a sewing machine, and useful. " Val puckered her brows over thepuzzle. "And all the neighbors gave it. Do you know, I've been thinking allsorts of nasty things about our poor neighbors, because they refused tosell Manley any hay. And all the while they were planning this sur--" Shenever finished that sentence, or the word, even. 

With a jolt over a rock, and a sharp turn to the right, Hank had broughtthem to the very brow of the hill, where they could look down into thecoulee, and upon the house standing in its tiny, unkempt yard, just beyondthe sparse growth of bushes which marked the spring creek. Involuntarilyevery head turned that way, and every pair of eyes looked downward. Hankchirped to the horses, threw all his weight upon the brake, and theyrattled down the grade, the brake block squealing against the rear wheels. They were half-way down before any one spoke. It was Val, and she almostwhispered one word:

"Manley!"

Arline's eyes were wet, and there was a croak in her voice when she criedjubilantly: "Well, ain't that better 'n a sewin' machine--or a piano?"

But Val did not attempt an answer. She was staring--staring as if she couldnot convince herself of the reality. Even Manley was jarred out of hisgloomy meditations, and half rose in the seat that he might see over Hank'sshoulder. 

"That's what your neighbors have done, " Arline began eagerly, "and theynearly busted tryin' to git through in time, and to keep it a dead secret. They worked like whiteheads, lemme tell you, and never even stopped for thestorm. The night of the dance I heard all about how they had to hurry. AndI guess Kent's there an' got a fire started, like I told him to. I wasafraid it might be colder'n what it is. I asked him if he wouldn't rideover an' warm up the house t'day--and I see there's a smoke, all right. "She looked at Manley, and then turned to Val. "Well, ain't you goin' to sayanything? You dumb, both of you?"

Val took a deep breath. "We should be dumb, " she said contritely. "Weshould go down on our knees and beg their pardon and yours--I especially. Ithink I've never in my life felt quite so humbled--so overwhelmed with thegoodness of my fellows, and my own unworthiness. I--I can't put it intowords--all the resentment I have felt against the country and the people init--as if--oh, tell them all how I want them to forgive me for--for the wayI have felt. And--_Arline_--"

"There, now--I didn't bargain for you to make it so serious, " Arlineexpostulated, herself near to crying. "It ain't nothing much--us folksbelieve in helpin' when help's needed, that's all. For Heaven's sake, don'tgo 'n' cry about it!"

Hank pulled up at the gate with a loud _whoa_ and a grip of the brake. Fromthe kitchen stovepipe a blue ribbon of smoke waved high in the clear air. Kent appeared, grinning amiably, in the doorway, but Val was lookingbeyond, and scarcely saw him--beyond, where stood a new stable upon theashes of the old; a new corral, the posts standing solidly in the holes dugfor those burned away; a new haystack--when hay was almost priceless! Afew chickens wandered about near the stable, and Val recognized them asArline's prized Plymouth Rocks. Small wonder that she and Manley werestunned to silence. Manley still looked as if some one had dealt him anunexpected blow in the face. Val was white and wide-eyed. 

Together they walked out to the stable. When they stopped, she put her handtimidly upon his aim. "Dear, " she said softly, "there is only one way tothank them for this, and that is to be the very best it is in us to be. Wewill, won't we? We--we haven't been our best, but we'll start in right now. Shall we, Manley?"

Manley looked down at her for a moment, saying nothing. 

"Shall we, Manley? Let us start now, and try again. Let's play the fireburned up our old selves, and we're all new, and strong--shall we? And wewon't feel any resentment for what is past, but we'll work together, andthink together, and talk together, without any hidden thing we can'tdiscuss freely. Please, Manley!"

He knew what she meant, well enough. For the last two days he had beendrinking again. On the night of the dance he had barely kept within thelimit of decent behavior. He had read Val's complete understanding and herdisgust the morning after--and since then they had barely spoken exceptwhen speech was necessary. Oh, he knew what she meant! He stood for anotherminute, and she let go his arm and stood apart, watching his face. 

A good deal depended upon the next minute, and they both knew it, andhardly breathed. His hand went slowly into a deep pocket of his overcoat, his fingers closed over something, and drew it reluctantly to the light. Shamefaced, he held it up for her to see--a flat bottle of generous size, full to within a inch of the cork with a pale, yellow liquid. 

"There--take it, and break it into a million pieces, " he said huskily. "I'll try again. "

Her yellow-brown eyes darkened perceptibly. "Manley Fleetwood, _you_ mustthrow it away. This is your fight--be a man and _fight_. "

"Well--there! May God damn me forever if I touch liquor again! I'm throughwith the stuff for keeps!" He held the bottle high, without looking at it, and sent it crashing against the stable door. 

"Manley!" She stopped her ears, aghast at his words, but for all that hereyes were ashine. She went up to him and put her arms around him. "Nowwe can start all over again, " she said. "We'll count our lives from thisminute, dear, and we'll keep them clean and happy. Oh, I'm so glad! So gladand so proud, dear!"

Kent had got half-way down the path from the house; he stopped when Manleythrew the bottle, and waited. Now he turned abruptly and retraced hissteps, and he did not look particularly happy, though he had been smilingwhen he left the kitchen. 

Arline turned from the window as he entered. 

"Looks like Man has swore off ag'in, " she observed dryly. "Well, let's hope'n' pray he stays swore off, "

CHAPTER XV

A COMPACT

The blackened prairie was fast hiding the mark of its fire torture under acloak of tender new grass, vividly green as a freshly watered, well-keptlawn. Meadow larks hopped here and there, searching long for a shelterednesting place, and missing the weeds where they were wont to sway andswell their yellow breasts and sing at the sun. They sang just as happily, however, on their short, low flights over the levels, or sitting upon gray, half-buried boulders upon some barren hilltop. Spring had come with lavishwarmth. The smoke of burning ranges, the bleak winter with its sweepingstorms of snow and wind, were pushed info the past, half forgotten in thisnew heaven and new earth, when men were glad simply because they werealive. 

On a still, Sunday morning--that day which, when work does not press, isset apart in the range land for slight errands, attention to one's personalaffairs, and to the pursuit of pleasure--Kent jogged placidly down the longhill into Cold Spring Coulee and pulled up at the familiar little unpaintedhouse of rough boards, with its incongruously dainty curtains at thewindows and its tiny yard, green and scrupulously clean. 

The cat with white spots on its sides was washing its face on the kitchendoorstep. Val was kneeling beside the front porch, painstakingly stringingwhite grocery twine upon nails, which she drove into the rough posts with asmall rock. The primitive trellis which resulted was obviously intendedfor the future encouragement of the sweet-pea plants just unfolding theirsecond clusters of leaves an inch above ground. She did not see Kent atfirst, and he sat quiet in the saddle, watching her with a flicker ofamusement in his eyes; but in a moment she struck her finger and sprang upwith a sharp little cry, throwing the rock from her. 

"Didn't you know that was going to happen, sooner or later?" Kent inquired, and so made known his presence. 

"Oh--how do you do?" She came smiling down to the gate, holding the hurtfinger tightly clasped in the other hand. "How comes it you are riding thisway? Our trail is all growing up to grass, so few ever travel it. "

"We're all hard-working folks these days. Where's Man?"

"Manley is down to the river, I think. " She rested both arms upon thegatepost and regarded him with her steady eyes. "If you can wait, he willbe back soon. He only went to see if the river is fordable. He thinks twoor three of our horses are on the other side, and he'd like to get them. The river has been too high, but it's lowering rather fast. Won't you comein?" She was pleasant, she was unusually friendly, but Kent felt vaguelythat, somehow, she was different. 

He had not seen her for three months. Just after Christmas he had met herand Manley in town, when he was about to leave for a visit to his people inNebraska. He had returned only a week or so before, and, if the truth wereknown, he was not displeased at the errand which brought him this way. Hedismounted, and when she moved away from the gate he opened it and went in. 

"Well, " he began lightly, when he was seated upon the floor of the porchand she was back at her trellis, "and how's the world been using you? Hadany more calamities while I've been gone?"

She busied herself with tying together two pieces of string, so that thewhole would reach to a certain nail driven higher than her head. She stoodwith both hands uplifted, and her face, and her eyes; she did not reply forso long that Kent began to wonder if she had heard him. There was no reasonwhy he should watch her so intently, or why he should want to get up andpush back the one lock of hair which seemed always in rebellion and alwaysfalling across her temple by itself. 

He was drifting into a dreamy wonder that all women with yellow-brown hairshould not be given yellow-brown eyes also, and to wishing vaguely that itmight be his luck to meet one some time--one who was not married--when shelooked down at him quite unexpectedly. He was startled, and half ashamed, and afraid that she might not like what he, had been thinking. 

She was staring straight into his eyes, and he knew that she was thinkingof something that affected her a good deal. 

"Unless it's a calamity to discover that the world is--what it is, andpeople in it are--what they are, and that you have been a blind idiot. Isthat a calamity, Mr. Cowboy? Or is it a blessing? I've been wondering. "

Kent discovered, when he started to speak, that he had run short of breath. "I reckon that depends on how the discovery pans out, " he ventured, aftera moment. He was not looking at her then. For some reason, unexplained tohimself, he felt that it wasn't right for him to look at her; nor wise; norquite pleasant in its effect. He did not know exactly what she meant, buthe knew very well that she meant something more than to make conversation. 

"That, " she said, and gave a little sigh--"that takes so long--don'tyou know? The panning out, as you call it. It's hard to see things veryclearly, and to make a decision that you know is going to stand the test, and then--just sit down and fold your hands, because some sordid, pettylittle reason absolutely prevents your doing anything. I hate waitingfor anything. Don't you? When I want to do a thing, I want to do itimmediately. These sweet-peas--now I've fixed the trellis for them to climbupon, I resent it because they don't take hold right now. Nasty littlethings--two inches high, when they should be two yards, and all coveredwith beautiful blossoms. "

[Illustration: "Little woman, listen here, " he said. "You're playing hardluck, and I know it"]

"Not the last of April, " he qualified. "Give 'em a fair chance, can't you?They'll make it, all right; things take time. "

She laughed surrenderingly, and came and sat down upon the porch near him, and tapped a slipper toe nervously upon the soft, green sod. 

"Time! Yes--" She threw back her head and smiled at him brightly--andappealingly, it seemed to Kent. "You remember what you told me once--aboutsheep-herders and _such_ going crazy out here? The _such_ is sometimesready to agree with you. " She turned her head with a quick impatience. "Such is learning to ride a horse, " she informed him airily. "Such does iton the sly--and she fell off once and skinned her elbow, and she--well, Such hasn't any sidesaddle--but she's learning, 'by granny!'"

Kent laughed unsteadily, and looked sidelong at her with eyes alight. Shematched the glance for just about one second, and turned her eyes away witha certain consciousness that gave Kent a savage delight. Of a truth, shewas different! She was human, she was intolerably alluring. She was not theprim, perfectly well-bred young woman he had met at the train. LonesomeLand was doing its work. She was beginning to think as an individual--as awoman; not merely as a member of conventional society. 

"Such is beginning to be the proper stuff--'by granny, " he told her softly. 

He was afraid his tone had offended her. She rose, and her color flared andfaded. She leaned slightly against the post beside her, and, with a handthrown up and half shielding her face, she stared out across the coulee tothe hill beyond. 

"Did you--I feel like a fool for talking like this, but one sometimesclutches at the least glimmer of sympathy and--and understanding, andspeaks what should be kept bottled up inside, I suppose. But I've beenbottled up for so _long_--" She struck her free hand suddenly against herlips, as if she would apply physical force to keep them from losing allself-control. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer. "Did you ever getto the point, Mr. Cowboy, where you--you dug right down to the bottom ofthings, and found that you must do something or go mad--and there wasn't athing you could do? Did you ever?" She did not turn toward him, but kepther eyes to the hills. When he did not answer, however, she swung her headslowly and looked down at him, where he sat almost at her feet. 

Kent was leaning forward, studying the gashes he had cut in the sod withhis spurs. His brows were knitted close. 

"I kinda think I'm getting there pretty fast, " he owned gravely when hefelt her gaze upon him. "Why?"

"Oh--because you can understand how one must speak sometimes. Ever since Icame, you have been--I don't know--different. At first I didn't like you atall; but I could see you were different. Since then--well, you have now andthen said something that made me see one could speak to you, and you wouldunderstand. So I--" She broke off suddenly and laughed an apology. "Am Iboring you dreadfully? One grows so self-centered living alone. If youaren't interested--"

"I am. " Kent was obliged to clear his throat to get those two words out. "Go on. Say all you want to say. "

She laughed again wearily. "Lately, " she confessed nervously, "I've takento telling my thoughts to the cat. It's perfectly safe, but, after all, itisn't quite satisfying. " She stopped again, and stood silent for a moment. 

"It's because I am alone, day after day, week in and week out, " she wenton. "In a way, I don't mind it--under the circumstances I prefer to bealone, really. I mean, I wouldn't want any of my people near me. But onehas too much time to think. I tell you this because I feel I ought to letyou know that you were right that time; I don't suppose you even rememberit! But I do. Once last fall--the first time you came to the ranch--youknow, the time I met you at the spring, you seemed to see that this big, lonesome country was a little too much for me. I resented it then. I didn'twant any one to tell me what I refused to admit to myself. I was trying sohard to like it--it seemed my only hope, you see. But now I'll tell you youwere right. 

"Sometimes I feel very wicked about it. Sometimes I don't care. Andsometimes I--I feel I shall go crazy if I can't talk to some one. Nobodycomes here, except Polycarp Jenks. The only woman I know really well inthe country is Arline Hawley. She's good as gold, but--she's intenselypractical; you can't tell her your troubles--not unless they're concreteand have to do with your physical well-being. Arline lacks imagination. "She laughed again shortly. 

"I don't know why I'm taking it for granted you don't, " she said. "Youthink I'm talking pore nonsense, don't you, Mr. Cowboy?" She turned fulltoward him, and her yellow-brown eyes challenged him, begged him forsympathy and understanding, held him at bay--but most of all they set hisblood pounding sullenly in his veins. He got unsteadily to his feet. 

"You seem to pass up a lot of things that count, or you wouldn't say that, "he reminded her huskily. "That night in town, just after the fire, forinstance. And here, that same afternoon. I tried to jolly you out offeeling bad, both those times; but you know I understood. You know damn'_well_ I understood! And you know I was sorry. And if you don't know, I'ddo anything on God's green earth--" He turned sharply away from her andstood kicking savagely backward at a clod with his rowel. Then he felther hand touch his arm, and started. After that he stood perfectly still, except that he quivered like a frightened horse. 

"Oh, it doesn't mean much to you--you have your life, and you're a man, andcan do things when you want to. But I do so need a friend! Just somebodywho understands, to whom I can talk when that is the only thing will keepme sane. You saved my life once, so I feel--no, I don't mean that. It isn'tbecause of anything you did; it's just that I feel I can talk to you morefreely than to any one I know. I don't mean whine. I hope I'm not a whiner. If I've blundered, I'm willing to--to take my medicine, as you would say. But if I can feel that somewhere in this big, empty country just one personwill always feel kindly toward me, and wish me well, and be sorry for wewhen I--when I'm miserable, and--" She could not go on. She pressed herlips together tightly, and winked back the tears. 

Kent faced about and laid both his hands upon her shoulders. His face wasvery tender and rather sad, and if she had only understood as well as hedid--. But she did not. 

"Little woman, listen here, " he said. "You're playing hard luck, and I knowit; maybe I don't know just how hard--but maybe I can kinda give a guess. If you'll think of me as your friend--your pal, and if you'll always tellyourself that your pal is going to stand by you, no matter what comes, why--all right. " He caught his breath. 

She smiled up at him, honestly pleased, wholly without guile--and whollyblind. "I'd rather have such a friend, just now, than anything I know, except--. But if your sweetheart should object--could you--"

His fingers gripped her shoulders tighter for just a second, and he let hergo. "I guess that part'll be all right, " he rejoined in a tone she couldnot quite fathom. "I never had one in m' life. "

"Why, you poor thing!" She stood back and tilted her head at him. "Youpoor--_pal_. I'll have to see about that immediately. Every young man wantsa sweetheart--at least, all the young men I ever knew wanted one, and--"

"And I'll gamble they all wanted the same one, " he hinted wickedly, feelinghimself unreasonably happy over something he could not quite put intowords, even if he had dared. 

"Oh, no. Hardly ever the same one, luckily. Do you know--pal, I've quiteforgotten what it was all about--the unburdening of my soul, I mean. Afterall, I think I must have been just lonesome. The country is just as big, but it isn't quite so--so _empty_, you see. Aren't you awfully vain, to seehow you have peopled it with your friendship?" She clasped her hands behindher and regarded him speculatively. "I hope, Mr. Cowboy, you're in earnestabout this, " she observed doubtfully. "I hope you have imagination enoughto see it isn't silly, because if I suspected you weren't playing fair, and would go away and laugh at me, I'd--scratch--you. " She nodded her headslowly at him. "I've always been told that, with tiger eyes, you find thedisposition of a tiger. So if you don't mean it, you'd better let me knowat once. "

Kent brought the color into her cheeks with his steady gaze. "I was justgetting scared _you_ didn't mean it, " he averred. "If my pal goes back onme--why, Lord help her!"

She took a slow, deep breath. "How is it you men ratify a solemnagreement?" she puzzled. "Oh, yes. " With a pretty impulse she held out herright hand, half grave, half playful. "Shake on it, pal!"

Kent took her hand and pressed it as hard as he dared. "You're going to bea dandy little chum, " he predicted gamely. "But let me tell you right now, if you ever get up on your stilts with me, there's going to be all kinds oftrouble. You call me Kent--that is, " he qualified, with a little, unsteadylaugh, "when there ain't any one around to get shocked. "

"I suppose this _isn't_ quite conventional, " she conceded, as if thethought had just then occurred to her. "But, thank goodness, out here therearen't any conventions. Every one lives as every one sees fit. It isn't thebest thing for some people, " she added drearily. "Some people have tobe bolstered up by conventions, or they can't help miring in their ownweaknesses. But we don't; and as long as we understand--" She looked to himfor confirmation. 

"As long as we understand, why, it ain't anybody's business but our own, "he declared steadily. 

She seemed relieved of some lingering doubt. "That's exactly it. I don'tknow why I should deny myself a friend, just because that friend happens tobe a man, and I happen to be--married. I never did have much patience withthe rule that a man must either be perfectly indifferent, or else makelove. I'm so glad you--understand. So that's all settled, " she finishedbriskly, "and I find that, as I said, it isn't at all necessary for me tounburden my soul. "

They stood quiet for a moment, their thoughts too intangible for speech. 

"Come inside, won't you?" she invited at last, coming back to everydaymatters. "Of course you're hungry--or you ought to be. You daren't run awayfrom my cooking this time, Mr. Cowboy. Manley will be back soon, I think. Imust get some lunch ready. "

Kent replied that he would stay outside and smoke, so she left him with afleeting smile, infinitely friendly and confiding and glad. He turned andlooked after her soberly, gave a great sigh, and reached mechanically forhis tobacco and papers; thoughtfully rolled a cigarette, lighted it, andheld the match until it burned quite down to his thumb and fingers. "Pals!"he said just under his breath, for the mere sound of the word. "Allright--pals it is, then. "

He smoked slowly, listening to her moving about in the house. Her stepscame nearer. He turned to look. 

"What was it you wanted to see Manley about?" she asked him from thedoorway. "I just happened to wonder what it could be. "

"Well, the Wishbone needs men, and sent me over to tell him he can go towork. The wagons are going to start to-morrow. He'll want to gather hiscattle up, and of course we know about how he's fixed--for saddle horsesand the like. He can work for the outfit and draw wages, and get his cattlethrown back on this range and his calves branded besides. Get paid fordoing what he'll have to do anyhow, you see. "

"I see. " Val pushed back the rebellious lock of hair. "Of course yousuggested the idea to the Wishbone. You're always doing something--"

"The outfit is short-handed, " he reiterated. "They need him. They ain'tstraining a point to do Man a favor--don't you ever think it! Well--he'scoming, " he broke off, and started to the gate. 

Manley clattered up, vociferously glad to greet him. Kent, at his urgentinvitation, led his horse to the stable and turned him into the corral, unsaddled and unbridled him so that he could eat. Also, he told his errand. Manley interrupted the conversation to produce a bottle of whisky from acunningly concealed hole in the depleted haystack, and insisted that Kentshould take a drink. Kent waved it off, and Manley drew the cork and heldthe bottle to his own lips. 

As he stood there, with his face uplifted while the yellow liquor gurgleddown his throat, Kent watched him with a curiously detached interest. Sothat's how Manley had kept his vow! he was thinking, with an impersonalcontempt. Four good swallows--Kent counted them. 

"You're hitting it pretty strong, Man, for a fellow that swore off lastfall, " he commented aloud. 

Manley took down the bottle, gave a sigh of pure, animal satisfaction, andpushed the cork in with an unconsciously regretful movement. 

"A fellow's got to get something out of life, " he defended peevishly. "I'vehad pretty hard luck--it's enough to drive a fellow to most any kind ofrelief. Burnt out, last fall--cattle scattered and calves running the rangeall winter--I haven't got stock enough to stand that sort of a deal, Kent. No telling where I stand now on the cattle question. I did have close to ahundred head--and three of my best geldings are missing--a poor man can'tstand luck like that. I'm in debt too--and when you've got an iceberg inthe house--when a man's own wife don't stand by him--when he can't getany sympathy from the very one that ought to--but, then, I hope I'm agentleman; I don't make any kick against _her_--my domestic affairs aremy own affairs. Sure. But when your wife freezes up solid--" He held thebottle up and looked at it. "Best friend I've got, " he finished, with awhining note in his voice. 

Kent turned away disgusted. Manley had coarsened. He had "slopped down"just when he should have braced up and caught the fighting spirit--thespirit that fights and overcomes obstacles. With a tightening of his chest, he thought of his "pal, " tied for life to this whining drunkard. No wondershe felt the need of a friend!

"Well, are you going out with the Wishbone?" he asked tersely, jerking histhoughts back to his errand. "If you are, you'll need to go over thereto-night--the wagons start out to-morrow. Maybe you better ride around byPolly's place and have him come over here, once in a while, to look afterthings. You can't leave your wife alone without somebody to kinda keep aneye out for her, you know. Polycarp ain't going to ride this spring; he'sgot rheumatism, or some darned thing. But he can chop what wood she'llneed, and go to town for her once in a while, and make sure she's allright. You better leave your gentlest horse here for her to use, too. Shecan't be left afoot out here. "

Manley was taking another long swallow from the bottle, but he heard. 

"Why, sure--I never thought about that. I guess maybe I _had_ better getPolycarp. But Val could make out all right alone. Why, she's held it downhere for a week at a time--last winter, when I'd forgot to come home"--hewinked shamelessly--"or a storm would come up so I couldn't get home. Valisn't like some fool women, I'll say that much for her. She don't carewhether I'm around or not; fact is, sometimes I think she's better pleasedwhen I'm gone. But you're right--I'll see Polycarp and have him come overonce in a while. Sure. Glad you spoke of it. You always had a great headfor thinking about other people, Kent. You ought to get married. "

"No, thanks, " Kent scowled. "I haven't got any grudge against women. The world's full of men ready and willing to give 'em a taste of pure, unadulterated hell. "

Manley stared at him stupidly, and then laughed doubtfully, as if he feltcertain of having, by his dullness, missed the point of a very good joke. 

After that the time was filled with the preparations for Manley's absence. Kent did what he could to help, and Val went calmly about the house, packing the few necessary personal belongings which might be stuffed into a"war bag" and used during round-up. Beyond an occasional glance of friendlyunderstanding, she seemed to have forgotten the compact she had made withKent. 

But when they were ready to ride away, Kent purposely left his gloves lyingupon the couch, and remembered them only after Manley was in the saddle. So he went back, and Val followed him into the room. He wanted to saysomething--he did not quite know what--something that would bring them alittle closer together, and keep them so; something that would make herthink of him often and kindly. He picked up his gloves and held out hishand to her--and then a diffidence seized his tongue. There was nothing hedared say. All the eloquence, all the tenderness, was in his eyes. 

"Well--good-by, pal. Be good to yourself, " he said simply. 

Val smiled up at him tremulously. "Good-by, my one friend. Don't--don't gethurt!"

Their clasp tightened, their hands dropped apart rather limply. Kent wentout and got upon his horse, and rode away beside Manley, and talked of therange and of the round-up and of cattle and a dozen other things whichinterest men. But all the while one exultant thought kept reiteratingitself in his mind: "She never said that much to _him!_ She never said thatmuch to _him!_"

CHAPTER XVI

MANLEY'S NEW TACTICS

To the east, to the south, to the north went the riders of the Wishbone, gathering the cattle which the fires had driven afar. No rivers stoppedthem, nor mountains, nor the deep-scarred coulees, nor the plains. It wasManley's first experience in real round-up work, for his own little herd hehad managed to keep close at home, and what few strayed afar were turnedback, when opportunity afforded, by his neighbors, who wished him well. Nowhe tasted the pride of ownership to the full, when a VP cow and her calfmingled with the milling Wishbones and Double Diamonds. He was proud of hisbrand, and proud of the sentiment which had made him choose Val's initials. More than once he explained to his fellows that VP meant Val Peyson, andthat he had got it recorded just after he and Val were engaged. He was notsentimental about her now, but he liked to dwell upon the fact that he hadbeen; it showed that he was capable of fine feeling. 

More dominant, however, as the weeks passed and the branding went on, became the desire to accumulate property--cattle. The Wishbone brand wentscorching through the hair of hundreds of calves, while the VP scared tens. It was not right. He felt, somehow, cheated by fate. He mentally figuredthe increase of his herd, and it seemed to him that it took a long while, much longer than it should, to gain a respectable number in that manner. Hecast about in his mind for some rich acquaintance in the East who might beprevailed upon to lend him capital enough to buy, say, five hundred cows. He began to talk about it occasionally when the boys lay around in theevenings. 

"You want to ride with a long rope, " suggested Bob Royden, grinning openlyat the others. "That's the way to work up in the cow business. Capitalnothing! You don't get enough excitement buying cattle; you want to steal'em. That's what I'd do if I had a brand of my own and all your ambitionsto get rich. "

"And get sent up, " Manley rounded out the situation. "No, thanks. " Helaughed. "It's a better way to get to the pen than it is to get rich, fromall accounts. "

Sandy Moran remembered a fellow who worked a brand and kept it up for sevenor eight years before they caught him, and he recounted the tale betweenpuffs at his cigarette. "Only they didn't catch him" he finished. "Apuncher put him wise to what was in the wind, and he sold out cheap to atenderfoot and pulled his freight. They never did locate him. " Then, with apointed rock which he picked up beside him, he drew a rude diagram or twoin the dirt. "That's how he done it, " he explained. "Pretty smooth, too. "

So the talk went on, as such things will, idly, without purpose save topass the time. Shop talk of the range it was. Tales of stealing, of workingbrands, and of branding unmarked yearlings at weaning time. Of this bigcattleman and that, who practically stole whole herds, and thereby tooklong strides toward wealth. Range scandals grown old; range gossip all ofit, of men who had changed a brand or made one, using a cinch ring at atiny fire in a secluded hollow, or a spur, or a jackknife; who were caughtin the act, after the act, or merely suspected of the crime. Of "sweat"brands, blotched brands, brands added to and altered, of trials, ofshootings, of hangings, even, and "getaways" spectacular and humorous andpathetic. 

Manley, being in a measure a pilgrim, and having no experience to drawupon, and not much imagination, took no part in the talk, except that helistened and was intensely interested. Two months of mingling with men whotalked little else had its influence. 

That fall, when Manley had his hay up, and his cattle once more rangingclose, toward the river and in the broken country bounded upon the west bythe fenced-in railroad, three calves bore the VP brand--three husky heifersthat never had suckled a VP mother. So had the range gossip, sown by chancein the soil of his greed of gain and his weakening moral fiber, bornefruit. 

The deed scared him sober for a month. For a month his color changed andhis blood quickened whenever a horseman showed upon the rim of Cold SpringCoulee. For a month he never left the ranch unless business compelled himto do so, and his return was speedy, his eyes anxious until he knew thatall was well. After that his confidence returned. He grew more secretive, more self-assured, more at ease with his guilt. He looked the Wishbone mensquarely in the eye, and it seldom occurred to him that he was a thief; orif it did, the word was but a synonym for luck, with shrewdness behind. Sometimes he regretted his timidity. Why three calves only? In a deeplittle coulee next the river--a coulee which the round-up had missed--hadbeen more than three. He might have doubled the number and risked no morethan for the three. The longer he dwelt upon that the more inclined he wasto feel that he had cheated himself. 

That fall there were no fires. It would be long before men grew carelesswhen the grass was ripened and the winds blew hot and dry from out thewest. The big prairie which lay high between the river and Hope was dottedwith feeding cattle. Wishbones and Double Diamonds, mostly, with here andthere a stray. 

Manley grew wily, and began to plan far in advance. He rode here and there, quietly keeping his own cattle well down toward the river. There wasshelter there, and feed, and the idea was a good one. Just before the riverbroke up he saw to it that a few of his own cattle, and with them someWishbone cows and a steer or two, were ranging in a deep, bushy coulee, isolated and easily passed by. He had driven them there, and he left themthere. That spring he worked again with the Wishbone. 

When the round-up swept the home range, gathering and branding, it chancedthat his part of the circle took him and Sandy Moran down that way. It washot, and they had thirty or forty head of cattle before them when theyneared that particular place. 

"No need going down into the breaks here, " he told Sandy easily. "I'vebeen hazing out everything I came across lately. They were mostly my own, anyway. I believe I've got it pretty well cleaned up along here. "

Sandy was not the man to hunt hard riding. He went to the rim of the couleeand looked down for a minute. He saw nothing moving, and took Manley's wordfor it with no stirring of his easy-going conscience. He said all right, and rode on. 

CHAPTER XVII

VAL BECOMES AN AUTHOR

Quite as marked had been the change in Val that year. Every time Kent sawher, he recognized the fact that she was a little different; a little lesssuperior in her attitude, a little more independent in her views of life. Her standards seemed slowly changing, and her way of thinking. He did notsee her often, but when he did the mockery of their friendship struck himmore keenly, his inward rebellion against circumstances grew more bitter. He wondered how she could be so blind as to think they were just pals, andno more. She did think so. All the little confidences, all the glances, allthe smiles, she gave and received frankly, in the name of friendship. 

"You know, Kent, this is my ideal of how people should be, " she told himonce, with a perfectly honest enthusiasm. "I've always dreamed of such afriendship, and I've always believed that some day the right man would comealong and make it possible. Not one in a thousand could understand and meetone half-way--"

"They'd be liable to go farther, " Kent assented dryly. 

"Yes. That's just the trouble. They'd spoil an ideal friendship by fallingin love. "

"Darned chumps, " Kent classed them sweepingly. 

"Exactly. Pal, your vocabulary excites my envy. It's so forciblesometimes. "

Kent grinned reminiscently. "It sure is, old girl. "

"Oh, I don't mean necessarily profane. I wonder what your vocabulary willdo to the secret I'm going to tell you. " The sweet-peas had reached thedesired height and profusion of blossoms, thanks to the pails and pailsof water Val had carried and lavished upon them, and she was gathering ahandful of the prettiest blooms for him. Her cheeks turned a bit pinker asshe spoke, and her hesitation raised a wild hope briefly in Kent's heart. 

"What is it?" He had to force the words out. 

"I--I hate to tell, but I want you to--to help me. "

"Well?" To Kent, at that moment, she was not Manley's wife; she was not anyman's wife; she was the girl he loved--loved with the primitive, absorbingpassion of the man who lives naturally and does not borrow his morals fromhis next-door neighbor. His code of ethics was his own, thought out byhimself. Val hated her husband, and her husband did not seem to care muchfor her. They were tied together legally. And a mere legality could nothold back the emotions and the desires of Kent Burnett. With him, it wasnot a question of morals: it was a question of Val's feeling in the matter. 

Val looked up at him, found something strange in his eyes, and immediatelylooked away again. 

"Your eyes are always saying things I can't hear, " she observedirrelevantly. 

"Are they? Do you want me to act as interpreter?"

"No. I just want you to listen. Have you noticed anything different aboutme lately, Kent?" She tilted her head, while she passed judgment upon acluster of speckled blossoms, odd but not particularly pretty. 

"What do you mean, anyway? I'm liable to get off wrong if I tell you--"

"Oh, you're so horribly cautious! Have I seemed any more content--anyhappier lately?"

Kent picked a spray of flowers and puled them ruthlessly to pieces. "MaybeI've kinda hoped so, " he said, almost in a whisper. 

"Well, I've a new interest in life. I just discovered it by accident, almost--"

Kent lifted his head and looked keenly at her, and his face was a lightershade of brown than it had been. 

"It seems to change everything. Pal, I--I've been writing things. "

Kent discovered he had been holding his breath, and let it go in a longsigh. 

"Oh!" After a minute he smiled philosophically. "What kinda things?" hedrawled. 

"Well, verses, but mostly stories. You see, " she explained impulsively, "Iwant to earn some money--of my own. I haven't said much, because I hatewhining; but really, things are growing pretty bad--between Manley and me. I hope it isn't my fault. I have tried every way I know to keep my faith inhim, and to--to help him. But he's not the same as he was. You know that. And I have a good deal of pride. I can't--oh, it's intolerable having toask a man for money! Especially when he doesn't want to give you any, " sheadded naively. "At first it wasn't necessary; I had a little of my own, andall my things were new. But one must eventually buy things--for thehouse, you know, and for one's personal needs--and he seems to resentit dreadfully. I never would have believed that Manley could bestingy--actually stingy; but he is, unfortunately. I hate to speak of hisfaults, even to you. But I've got to be honest with you. It isn't nice tosay that I'm writing, not for any particularly burning desire to expressmy thoughts, nor for the sentiment of it, but to earn money. It's terriblysordid, isn't it?" She smiled wistfully up at him. "But there seems to bemoney in it, for those who succeed, and it's work that I can do here. Ihave oceans of time, and I'm not disturbed!" Her lips curved into bitterlines. "I do so much thinking, I might as well put my brain to some use. "With one of her sudden changes of mood, she turned to Kent and clasped bothhands upon his arm. 

"Now you see, pal, how much our friendship means to me, " she said softly. "I couldn't have told this to another living soul! It seems awfullytreacherous, saying it even to you--I mean about him. But you're sogood--you always understand, don't you, pal?"

"I guess so. " Kent forced the words out naturally, and kept his breatheven, and his arms from clasping her. He considered that he performed quitea feat of endurance. 

"You're modest!" She gave his arm a little shake. "Of course you do. Youknow I'm not treacherous, really. You know I'd do anything I could for him. But this is something that doesn't concern him at all. He doesn't know it, but that is because he would only sneer. When I have really sold something, and received the money for it, then it won't matter to me who knows. Butnow it's a solemn secret, just between me and my pal. " Her yellow-browneyes dwelt upon his face. 

Kent, stealing a glance at her from under his drooped lids, wondered if shehad ever given any time to analyzing herself. He would have given much toknow if, down deep in her heart, she really believed in this pal business;if she was really a friend, and no more. She puzzled him a good deal, sometimes. 

"Well--if anybody can make good at that business, you sure ought to;you've got brains enough to write a dictionary. " He permitted himself theindulgence of saying that much, and he was perfectly sincere. He honestlyconsidered Val the cleverest woman in the world. 

She laughed with gratification. "Your sublime confidence, while it isundoubtedly mistaken, is nevertheless appreciated, " she told him primly, moving away with her hands full of flowers. "If you've got the nerve, comeinside and read some of my stuff; I want to know if it's any good at all. "

Presently he was seated upon the couch in the little, pathetically brightfront room, and he was knitting his eyebrows over Val's beautifully regularhandwriting, --pages and pages of it, so that there seemed no end to thetask, --and was trying to give his mind to what he was reading instead of tothe author, sitting near him with her hands folded demurely in her lap andher eyes fixed expectantly upon his face, trying to read his decision evenas it was forming. 

Some verses she had tried on him first. Kent, by using all hisdetermination of character, read them all, every word of them. 

"That's sure all right, " he said, though, beyond a telling phrase ortwo, --one line in particular which would stick in his memory:

 "Men live and love and die in that lonely land, "--

he had no very clear idea of what it was all about. Certain lines seemed togo bumping along, and one had to mispronounce some of the final words tomake them rhyme with others gone before, but it was all right--Val wroteit. 

"I think I do better at stories, " she ventured modestly. "I wrote one--alittle story about university life--and sent it to a magazine. They wrote alovely letter about it, but it seems that field is overdone, or something. The editor asked me why, living out here in the very heart of the West, Idon't try Western stories. I think I shall--and that's why I said I shouldneed your help. I thought we might work together, you know. You've livedhere so long, and ought to have some splendid ideas--things that havehappened, or that you've heard--and you could tell me, and I'd write themup. Wouldn't you like to collaborate--'go in cahoots' on it?"

"Sure. " Kent regarded her thoughtfully. She really was looking brighter andhappier, and her enthusiasm was not to be mistaken. Her world had changed. "Anything I can do to help, you know--"

"Of course I know, I think it's perfectly splendid, don't you? We'll dividethe money--when there _is_ any, and--"

"Will we?" His tone was noncommittal in the extreme. 

"Of course. Now, don't let's quarrel about that till we come to it. I havea good idea of my own, I think, for the first story. A man comes out hereand disappears, you know, and after a while his sister comes to find him. She gets into all kinds of trouble--is kidnapped by a gang of robbers, andkept in a cave. When the leader of the gang comes back--he has been awayon some depredation--you see, I have only the bare outline of the storyyet--and, well, it's her brother! He kills the one who kidnapped her, andshe reforms him. Of course, there ought to be some love interest. I think, perhaps, one member of the gang ought to fall in love with her, don't youknow? And after a while he wins her--"

"She'll reform him, too, I reckon. "

"Oh, yes. She couldn't love a man she couldn't respect--no woman could. "

"Oh!" Kent took a minute to apply that personally. It was of value to him, because it was an indication of Val's own code. "Maybe, " he suggestedtentatively, "she'd get busy and reform the whole bunch. "

"Oh, say--that would be great! She's an awfully sweet littlething--perfectly lovely, you know--and they'd all be in love with her, soit wouldn't be improbable. Don't you remember, Kent, you told me once thata man would do _anything_ for a woman, if he cared enough for her?"

"Sure. He would, too. " Kent fought back a momentary temptation to prove thetruth of it by his own acquiescence in this pal business. He was saved fromdisaster by a suspicion that Val would not be able to see it from his pointof view, and by the fact that he would much rather be pals than nothing. 

She would have gone on, talking and planning and discussing, indefinitely. But the sun slid lower and lower, and Kent was not his own master. The timecame when he had to go, regardless of his own wishes, or hers. 

When he came again, the story was finished, and Val was waiting, withextreme impatience, to read it to him and hear his opinion before she sentit away. Kent was not so impatient to hear it, but he did not tell her so. He had not seen her for a month, and he wanted to talk; not about anythingin particular--just talk about little things, and see her eyes light uponce in a while, and her lips purse primly when he said something daring, and maybe have her play something on the violin, while he smoked andwatched her slim wrist bend and rise and fall with the movement of the bow. He could imagine no single thing more fascinating than that--that, and theway she cuddled the violin under her chin, in the hollow of her neck. 

But Val would not play--she had been too busy to practice, all spring andsummer; she scarcely ever touched the violin, she said. And she did notwant to talk--or if she did, it was plain that she had only one theme. SoKent, perforce, listened to the story. Afterward, he assured her that itwas "outa sight. " As a matter of fact, half the time he had not heard aword of what she was reading; he had been too busy just looking at her andbeing glad he was there. He had, however, a dim impression that it was astory with people in it whom one does not try to imagine as ever beingalive, and with a West which, beyond its evident scarcity of inhabitants, was not the West he knew anything about. One paragraph of description hadcaught his attention, because it seemed a fairly accurate picture of thebench land which surrounded Cold Spring Coulee; but it had not seemed tohave anything to do with the story itself. Of course, it must be good--Valwrote it. He began to admire her intensely, quite apart from his ownpersonal subjugation. 

Val was pleased with his praise. For two solid hours she talked of nothingbut that story, and she gave him some fresh chocolate cake and a pitcherof lemonade, and urged him to come again in about three weeks, when sheexpected to hear from the magazine she thought would be glad to take thestory; the one whose editor had suggested that she write of the West. 

In the fall, and in the winter, their discussions were frequently hamperedby Manley's presence. But Val's enthusiasm, though nipped here and thereby unappreciative editors, managed, somehow, to live; or perhaps it haddeveloped into a dogged determination to succeed in spite of everything. She still wrote things, and she still read them to Kent when there wastime and opportunity; sometimes he was bold enough to criticize the worstplaces, and to tell her how she might, in his opinion, remedy them. Occasionally Val would take his advice. 

So the months passed. The winds blew and brought storm and heat andsunshine and cloud. Nothing, in that big land, appreciably changed, exceptthe people; and they so imperceptibly that they failed to realize it untilafterward. 

CHAPTER XVIII

VAL'S DISCOVERY

With a blood-red sun at his back and a rosy tinge upon all the hills beforehim, Manley rode slowly down the western rim of Cold Spring Coulee, drivingfive rebellious calves that had escaped the branding iron in the spring. Though they were not easily driven in any given direction, he wassingularly patient with them, and refrained from bellowing epithets andadmonitions, as might have been expected. When he was almost down the hill, he saw Val standing in the kitchen door, shading her eyes with her handsthat she might watch his approach. 

"Open the corral gate!" he shouted to her, in the tone of command. "Andstand back where you can head 'em off if they start up the coulee!"

Val replied by doing as she was told; she was not in the habit of wastingwords upon Manley; they seemed always to precipitate an unpleasantdiscussion of some sort, as if he took it for granted she disapproved ofall he did or said, and was always upon the defensive. 

The calves came on, lumbering awkwardly in a half-hearted gallop, as ifthey had very little energy left. Their tongues protruded, their mouthsdribbled a lathery foam, and their rough, sweaty hides told Val of the longchase--for she was wiser in the ways of the range land than she had been. She stood back, gently waving her ruffled white apron at them, and whenthey dodged into the corral, rolling eyes at her, she ran up and slammedthe gate shut upon them, looped the chain around the post, and dropped theiron hook into a link to fasten it. Manley galloped up, threw himself offhis panting horse, and began to unsaddle. 

"Get some wood and start a fire, and put the iron in, Val, " he told herbrusquely. 

Val looked at him quickly. "Now? Supper's all ready, Manley. There's nohurry about branding them, is there?" And she added: "Dear me! The round-upmust have just skimmed the top off this range last spring. You've had tobrand a lot of calves that were missed. "

"What the devil is it to you?" he demanded roughly. "I want that fire, madam, and I want it _now_. I rather think I knew when I want to brandwithout asking your advice. "

Val curved her lips scornfully, shrugged and obeyed She was used to thatsort of thing, and she did not mind very much. He had brutalized bydegrees, and by degrees she had hardened. He could rouse no feeling now butcontempt. 

"If you'll kindly wait until I put back the supper, " she said coldly. "Isuppose in your zeal one need not sacrifice your food; you're still ratherparticular about that. I observe. "

Manley was leading his horse to the stable, and, though he answeredsomething, the words were no more than a surly mumble. 

"He's been drinking again, " Val decided dispassionately, on the way to thehouse. "I suppose he carried a bottle in his pocket--and emptied it. "

She was not long; there was a penalty of profane reproach attached todelay, however slight, when Manley was in that mood. She had the fire goingand the VP iron heating by the time he had stabled and fed his horse, andhad driven the calves into the smaller pen. He drove a big, line-backedheifer into a corner, roped and tied her down with surprising dexterity, and turned impatiently. 

"Come! Isn't that iron ready yet?"

Val, on the other side of the fence, drew it out and inspected itindifferently. 

"It is not, Mr. Fleetwood. If you are in a very great hurry, why not applyyour temper to it--and a few choice remarks?"

"Oh, don't try to be sarcastic--it's too pathetic. Kick a little life intothat fire. "

"Yes, sir--thank you, sir. " Val could be rather exasperating when shechose. She always could be sure of making Manley silently furious whenshe adopted that tone of respectful servility--as employed by butlers andfootmen upon the stage. Her mimicry, be it said, was very good. 

"'Ere it is, sir----thank you, sir--'ope I 'aven't kept you wyting, sir, "she announced, after he had fumed for two minutes inside the corral, andshe had cynically hummed her way quite through the hymn which begins "Blestbe the tie that binds. " She passed the white-hot iron deftly through therails to him, and fixed the fire for another heating. 

Really, she was not thinking of Manley at all, nor of his mood, nor of hisbrutal coarseness. She was thinking of the rebuilt typewriter, advertisedas being exactly as good as a new one, and scandalously cheap, for whichshe had sold her watch to Arline Hawley to get money to buy. She wascounting mentally the days since she had sent the money order, and wasthinking it should come that week surely. 

She was also planning to seize upon the opportunity afforded by Manley'snext absence for a day from the ranch, and drive to Hope on the chance ofgetting the machine. Only--she wished she could be sure whether Kent wouldbe coming soon. She did not want to miss seeing him; she decided to soundPolycarp Jenks the next time he came. Polycarp would know, of course, whether the Wishbone outfit was in from round-up. Polycarp always kneweverything that had been done, or was intended, among the neighbors. 

Manley passed the ill-smelling iron back to her, and she put it in thefire, quite mechanically. It was not the first time, nor the second, thatshe had been called upon to help brand. She could heat an iron as quicklyand evenly as most men, though Manley had never troubled to tell her so. 

Five times she heated the iron, and heard, with an inward quiver of pityand disgust, the spasmodic blat of the calf in the pen when the VP wentsearing into the hide on its ribs. She did not see why they must be brandedthat evening, in particular, but it was as well to have it done with. Also, if Manley meant to wean them, she would have to see that they were fed andwatered, she supposed. That would make her trip to town a hurried one, ifshe went at all; she would have to go and come the same day, and ArlineHawley would scold and beg her to stay, and call her a fool. 

"Now, how about that supper?" asked Manley, when they were through, and theair was clearing a little from the smoke and the smell of burned hair. 

"I really don't know--I smelled the potatoes burning some time ago. I'llsee, however. " She brushed her hands with her handkerchief, pushed back thelock of hair that was always falling across her temple, and, because shewas really offended by Manley's attitude and tone, she sang softly all theway to the house, merely to conceal from him the fact that he could moveher even to irritation. Her best weapon, she had discovered long ago, wasabsolute indifference--the indifference which overlooked his presence andwas deaf to his recriminations. 

She completed her preparations for his supper, made sure that nothing waslacking and that the tea was just right, placed his chair in position, filled the water glass beside his plate, set the tea-pot where he couldreach it handily, and went into the living room and closed the doorbetween. In the past year, filed as it had been with her literary ambitionsand endeavors, she had neglected her music; but she took her violin fromthe box, hunted the cake of resin, tuned the strings, and, when she heardhim come into the kitchen and sit down at the table, seated herself uponthe front doorstep and began to play. 

There was one bit of music which Manley thoroughly detested. That was the"Traumerei. " Therefore, she played the "Traumerei" slowly--as it should, of course, be played--with full value given to all the pensive, long-drawnnotes, and with a finale positively creepy in its dreamy wistfulness. Val, as has been stated, could be very exasperating when she chose. 

In the kitchen there was the subdued rattle of dishes, unbroken andunhurried. Val went on playing, but she forgot that she had begun in ahalf-conscious desire to annoy her husband. She stared dreamily at the hillwhich shut out the world to the east, and yielded to a mood of loneliness;of longing, in the abstract, for all the pleasant things she was missing inthis life which she had chosen in her ignorance. 

When Manley flung open the inner door, she gave a stifled exclamation; shehad forgotten all about Manley. 

"By all the big and little gods of Greece!" he swore angrily. "Calvesbawling their heads off in the corral, and you squalling that whiny stuffyou call music in the house--home's sure a hell of a happy place! I'm goingto town. You don't want to leave the place till I come back--I want thosecalves looked after. " He seemed to consider something mentally, and thenadded:

"If I'm not back before they quit bawling, you can turn 'em down in theriver field with the rest. You know when they're weaned and ready to settledown. Don't feed 'em too much hay, like you did that other bunch; just give'em what they need; you don't have to pile the corral full. And don't keep'em shut up an hour longer than necessary. "

Val nodded her head to show that she heard, and went on playing. There wasseldom any pretense of good feeling between them now. She tuned the violinto minor, and poised the bow over the strings, in some doubt as to hermemory of a serenade she wanted to try next. 

"Shall I have Polycarp take the team and haul up some wood from the river?"she asked carelessly. "We're nearly out again. "

"Oh, _I_ don't care--if he happens along. " He turned and went out, hismind turning eagerly to the town and what it could give him in the way ofpleasure. 

Val, still sitting in the doorway, saw him ride away up the grade anddisappear over the brow of the hill. The dusk was settling softly upon theland, so that his figure was but a vague shape. She was alone again; sherather liked being alone, now that she had no longer a blind, unreasoningterror of the empty land. She had her thoughts and her work; the presenceof Manley was merely an unpleasant interruption to both. 

Some time in the night she heard the lowing of a cow somewhere near. Shewondered dreamily what it could be doing in the coulee, and went to sleepagain. The five calves were all bawling in a chorus of complaint againsttheir forced separation from their mothers, and the deeper, throaty tonesof the cow mingled not inharmoniously with the sound. 

Range cattle were not permitted in the coulee, and when by chance theyfound a broken panel in the fence and strayed down there, Val drove themout; afoot, usually, with shouts and badly aimed stones to accelerate theirlumbering pace. 

After she had eaten her breakfast in the morning she went out toinvestigate. Beyond the corral, her nose thrust close against the rails, a cow was bawling dismally. Inside, in much the same position, its tailwaving a violent signal of its owner's distress, a calf was clamoringhysterically for its mother and its mother's milk. 

Val sympathized with them both; but the cow did not belong in the coulee, and she gathered two or three small stones and went around where she couldfrighten her away from the fence without, however, exposing herself toorecklessly to her uncertain temper. Cows at weaning time did sometimesobject to being driven from their calves. 

"Shoo! Go on away from there!" Val raised a stone and poised itthreateningly. 

The cow turned and regarded her, wild-eyed. It backed a step or two, evidently uncertain of its next move. 

"Go on away!" Val was just on the point of throwing the rock, when shedropped it unheeded to the ground and stared. "Why, you--you--why--the_idea!_" She turned slowly white. Certain things must filter to theunderstanding through amazement and disbelief; it took Val a minute or twoto grasp the significance of what she saw. By the time she did grasp it, her knees were beading weakly beneath the weight of her body. She put outa groping hand and caught at the corner of the corral to keep herself fromfalling. And she stared and stared. 

"It--oh, surely not!" she whispered, protesting against her understanding. She gave a little sob that had no immediate relation to tears. "Surely--_surely_--not!" It was of no use; understanding came, and cameclearly, pitilessly. Many things--trifles, all of them--to which she hadgiven no thought at the time, or which she had forgotten immediately, cameback to her of their own accord; things she tried _not_ to remember. 

The cow stared at her for a minute, and, when she made no hostile move, turned its attention back to its bereavement. Once again it thrustits moist muzzle between two rails, gave a preliminary, vibrant_mmm--mmmmm--m_, and then, with a spasmodic heaving of ribs and of flank, burst into a long-drawn _baww--aw--aw--aw_, which rose rapidly in atremulous crescendo and died to a throaty rumbling. 

Val started nervously, though her eyes were fixed upon the cow and she knewthe sound was coming. It served, however, to release her from the spell ofhorror which had gripped her. She was still white, and when she moved shefelt intolerably heavy, so that her feet dragged; but she was no longerdazed. She went slowly around to the gate, reached up wearily and undid thechain fastening, opened the gate slightly, and went in. 

Four of the calves were huddled together for mutual comfort in a corner. They were blatting indefatigably. Val went over to where the fifth onestill stood beside the fence, as near the cow as it could get, and threwa small stone, that bounced off the calf's rump. The calf jumped and ranaimlessly before her until it reached the half-open gate, when it dodgedout, as if it could scarcely believe its own good fortune. Before Val couldfollow it outside, it was nuzzling rapturously its mother, and the cow wascontorting her body so that she could caress her offspring with her tongue, while she rumbled her satisfaction. 

Val closed and fastened the gate carefully, and went back to where the cowstill lingered. With her lips drawn to a thin, colorless line, she droveher across the coulee and up the hill, the calf gamboling close alongside. When they had gone out of sight, up on the level, Val turned back and wentslowly to the house. She stood for a minute staring stupidly at it and atthe coulee, went in and gazed around her with that blankness which followsa great mental shock. After a minute she shivered, threw up her handsbefore her face, and dropped, a pitiful, sorrowing heap of quiveringrebellion, upon the couch. 

CHAPTER XIX

KENT'S CONFESSION

Polycarp Jenks came ambling into the coulee, rapped perfunctorily upon thedoor-casing, and entered the kitchen as one who feels perfectly at home, and sure of his welcome; as was not unfitting, considering the fact that hehad "chored around" for Val during the last year, and longer. 

"Anybody to home?" he called, seeing the front door shut tight. 

There was a stir within, and Val, still pale, and with an almost furtiveexpression in her eyes, opened the door and looked out. 

"Oh, it's you, Polycarp, " she said lifelessly. "Is there anything--"

"What's the matter? Sick? You look kinda peaked and frazzled out. I met Manlas' night, and he told me you needed wood; I thought I'd ride over andsee. By granny, you do look bad. "

"Just a headache, " Val evaded, shrinking back guiltily. "Just do whateverthere is to do, Polycarp. I think--I don't believe the chickens have hadanything to eat to-day--"

"Them headaches are sure a fright; they're might' nigh as bad as rheumatiz, when they hit you hard. You jest go back and lay down, and I'll look aroundand see what they is to do. Any idee when Man's comin' back?"

"No. " Val brought the word out with an involuntary sharpness. 

"No, I reckon not. I hear him and Fred De Garmo come might' near havin' afight las' night. Blumenthall was tellin' me this mornin'. Fred's quitthe Double Diamond, I hear. He's got himself appointed dep'ty stockinspector--and how he managed to git the job is more 'n I can figure out. They say he's all swelled up over it--got his headquarters in town, youknow, and seems he got to lordin' it over Man las' night, and I guess ifsomebody hadn't stopped 'em they'd of been a mix-up, all right. Man wasn'tin no shape to fight--he'd been drinkin' pretty--"

"Yes--well, just do whatever there is to do, Polycarp. The horses are inthe upper pasture, I think--if you want to haul wood. " She closed thedoor--gently, but with exceeding firmness, and, Polycarp took the hint. 

"Women is queer, " he muttered, as he left the house. "Now, she knows Mandrinks like a fish--and she knows everybody else knows it--but if you somuch as mention sech a thing, why--" He waggled his head disapprovingly andproceeded, in his habitually laborious manner, to take a chew of tobacco. "No matter how much they may know a thing is so, if it don't suit 'em youcan't never git 'em to stand right up and face it out--seems like, bygranny, it comes natural to 'em to make believe things is different. Now, she knows might' well she can't fool _me_. I've hearn Man swear at herlike--"

He reached the corral, and his insatiable curiosity turned his thoughtsinto a different channel. He inspected the four calves gravely, wonderedaudibly where Man had found them, and how the round-up came to miss them, and criticized his application of the brand; in the opinion of Polycarp, Manley either burned too deep or not deep enough. 

"Time that line-backed heifer scabs off, you can't tell what's on her, " heasserted, expectorating solemnly before he turned away to his work. 

Prom a window, Val watched him with cold terror. Would he suspect? Or wasthere anything to suspect? "It's silly--it's perfectly idiotic, " she toldherself impatiently; "but if he hangs around that corral another minute, Ishall scream!" She watched until she saw him mount his horse and ride offtoward the upper pasture. Then she went out and began apathetically pickingseed pods off her sweet-peas, which the early frosts had spared. 

"Head better?" called Polycarp, half an hour later, when he went rattlingpast the house with the wagon, bound for the river bottom where they gottheir supply of wood. 

"A little, " Val answered inattentively, without looking at him. 

It was while Polycarp was after the wood, and while she was sitting uponthe edge of the porch, listlessly arranging and rearranging a handful oflong-stemmed blossoms, that Kent galloped down the hill and up to the gate. She saw him coming and set her teeth hard together. She did not want to seeKent just then; she did not want to see anybody. 

Kent, however, wanted to see her. It seemed to him at least a month sincehe had had a glimpse of her, though it was no more than half that time. Hewatched her covertly while he came up the path. His mind, all the way overfrom the Wishbone, had been very clear and very decided. He had a certainthing to tell her, and a certain thing to do; he had thought it all outduring the nights when he could not sleep and the days when men called himsurly, and there was no going back, no reconsideration of the matter. Hehad been telling himself that, over and over, ever since the house cameinto view and he saw her sitting there on the porch. She would probablywant to argue, and perhaps she would try to persuade him, but it would beabsolutely useless; absolutely. 

"Well, hello!" he cried, with more than his usual buoyancy ofmanner--because he knew he must hurt her later on. "Hello, Madam Authoress. Why this haughty air? This stuckupiness? Shall I get a ladder and climbup where you can hear me say howdy?" He took off his hat and slapped hergently upon the top of her head with it. "Come out of the fog!"

"Oh--I wish you wouldn't!" She glanced up at him so briefly that he caughtonly a flicker of her yellow-brown eyes, and went on fumbling her flowers. Kent stood and looked down at her for a moment. 

"Mad?" he inquired cheerfully. "Say, you look awfully savage. On the dead, you do. What do _you_ care if they sent it back? You had all the fun ofwriting it--and you know it's a dandy. Please smile. _Pretty_ please!" hewheedled. It was not the first time he had discovered her in a despondentmood, nor the first time he had bantered and badgered her out of her gloom. Presently it dawned upon him that this was more serious; he had never seenher quite so colorless or so completely without spirit. 

"Sick, pal?" he asked gently, sitting down beside her. 

"No-o--I suppose not. " Val bit her lips, as soon as she had spoken, tocheck their quivering. 

"Well, what is it? I wish you'd tell me. I came over here full of somethingI had to tell you--but I can't, now; not while you're like this. " Hewatched her yearningly. 

"Oh, I can't tell you. It's nothing. " Val jerked a sweet-pea viciously fromits stem, pressed her hand against her mouth, and turned reluctantly towardhim. "What was it you came to tell me?"

He watched her narrowly. "I'll gamble you're down in the mouth aboutsomething hubby has said or done. You needn't tell me--but I just want toask you if you think it's worth while? You needn't tell me that, either. You know blamed well it ain't. He can't deal you any more misery than youlet him hand out; you want to keep that in mind. "

Another blossom was demolished. "What was it you came to tell me?" sherepeated steadily, though she did not look at him. 

"Oh, nothing much. I'm going to leave the country, is all. "

"Kent!" After a minute she forced another word out. "Why?"

Kent regarded her somberly. "You better think twice before you ask methat, " he warned; "because I ain't much good at beating all around thebush. If you ask me again, I'll tell you--and I'm liable to tell youwithout any frills. " He drew a hard breath. "So I'd advise you not to ask, "he finished, half challengingly. 

Val placed a pale lavender blossom against a creamy white one, and held thetwo up for inspection. 

"When are you going?" she asked evenly. 

"I don't know exactly--in a day or so. Saturday, maybe. "

She hesitated over the flowers in her lap, and selected a pink one, whichshe tried with the white and the lavender. 

"And--_why_ are you going?" she asked him deliberately. 

Kent stared at her fixedly. A faint, pink flush was creeping into hercheeks. He watched it deepen, and knew that his silence was filling herwith uneasiness. He wondered how much she guessed of what he was going tosay, and how much it would mean to her. 

"All right--I'll tell you why, fast enough. " His tone was grim. "I'm goingto leave the country because I can't stay any longer--not while you're init. "

"Why--Kent!" She seemed inexpressibly shocked. 

"I don't know, " he went on relentlessly, "what you think a man's made of, anyhow. And I don't know what _you_ think of this pal business; I know whatI think: It's a mighty good way to drive a man crazy. I've had about all ofit I can stand, if you want to know. "

"I'm sorry, if you don't--if you can't be friends any longer, " she said, and he winced to see how her eyes filled with tears. "But, of course, ifyou can't--if it bores you--"

Kent seized her arm, a bit roughly, "Have I got to come right out and tellyou, in plain English, that I--that it's because I'm so deep in love withyou I can't. If you only knew what it's cost me this last year--to play thegame and not play it too hard! What do you think a man's made of? Do youthink a man can care for a woman, like I care for you, and--Do you think hewants to be just pals? And stand back and watch some drunken brute abuseher--and never--Here!" His voice grew testier. "Don't do that--don't! Ididn't want to hurt you--God knows I didn't want to hurt you!" He threw hisseem around her shoulders and pulled her toward him. 

"Don't--pal, I'm a brute, I guess, like all the rest of the male humans. Idon't mean to be--it's the way I'm made. When a woman means so much to methat I can't think of anything else, day or night, and get to countingdays and scheming to see her--why--being friends--like we've been--is likegiving a man a teaspoon of milk and water when he's starving to death, andthinking that oughta do. But I shouldn't have let it hurt you. I triedto stand for it, little woman. These were times when I just had to fightmyself not to take you up in my arms and carry you of and keep you. Youmust admit, " he argued, smiling rather wanly, "that, considering how I'vefelt about it, I've done pretty tolerable well up till now. You don't--younever will know how much it's cost. Why, my nerves are getting so raw Ican't stand anything any more. That's why I'm going. I don't want to hangaround till I do something--foolish. "

He took his arm away from her shoulders and moved farther off; he was notsure how far he might trust himself. 

"If I thought you cared--or if there was anything I could do for you, " heventured, after a moment, "why, it would be different. But--"

Val lifted her head and turned to him. 

"There is something--or there was--or--oh, I can't think any more! Isuppose"--doubtfully--"if you feel as you say you do, why--it wouldbe--wicked to stay. But you don't; you must just imagine it. "

"Oh, all right, " Kent interpolated ironically. 

"But if you go away--" She got up and stood before him, breathing unevenly, in little gasps. "Oh, you mustn't go away! Please don't go! I--there'ssomething terrible happened--oh, Kent, I need you! I can't tell you whatit is--it's the most horrible thing I ever heard of! You can't imagineanything more horrible, Kent!"

She twisted her fingers together nervously, and the blossoms dropped, oneby one, on the ground. "If you go, " she pleaded, "I won't have a friend inthe country, not a real friend. And--and I never needed a friend as muchas I do now, and you mustn't go. I--I can't let you go!" It was like herhysterical fear of being left alone after the fire. 

Kent eyed her keenly. He knew there must have been something to put herinto this state--something more than his own rebellion. He felt suddenlyashamed of his weakness in giving way--in telling her how it was withhim. The faint, far-off chuckle of a wagon came to his ears. He turnedimpatiently toward the sound. Polycarp was driving up the coulee with aload of wood; already he was nearing the gate which opened into the lowerfield. Kent stood up, reached out, and caught Val by the hand. 

"Come on into the house, " he said peremptorily. "Polly's coming, and youdon't want him goggling and listening. And I want you, " he added, when hehad led her inside and closed the door, "to tell me what all this is about. There's something, and I want to know what. If it concerns you, then itconcerns me a whole lot, too. And what concerns me I'm going to find outabout--what is it?"

Val sat down, got up immediately, and crossed the room aimlessly to sit inanother chair. She pressed her palms tightly against both cheeks, drew inher breath as if she were going to speak, and, after all, said nothing. Shelooked out of the window, pushing back the errant strand of hair. 

"I can't--I don't know how to tell you, " she began desperately. "It's toohorrible. "

"Maybe it is--I don't know what you'd call too horrible; I kinda think itwouldn't be what I'd tack those words to. Anyway--what is it?" He wentclose, and he spoke insistently. 

She took a long breath. 

"Manley's a thief!" She jerked the words out like as automaton. They werenot, evidently, the Words she had meant to speak, for she seemed frightenedafterward. 

"Oh, that's it!" Kent made a sound which was not far from a snort. "Well, what about it? What's he done? How did you find it out?"

Val straightened in the chair and gazed up at him. Once more her tawny eyesgave him a certain shock, as if he had never before noticed them. 

"After all our neighbors have done for him, " she cried bitterly; "aftergiving him hay, when his was burned and he couldn't buy any; after buildingstables, and corral, and--everything they did--the kindest, best neighborsa man ever had--oh, it's too shameful for utterance! I might forgive it--Imight, only for that. The--the ingratitude! It's too despicable--too--"

Kent laid a steadying hand upon her arm. 

"Yes--but what is it?" he interrupted. 

Val shook off his hand unconsciously, impatient of any touch. 

"Oh, the bare deed itself--well, it's rather petty, too--and cheap. " Hervoice became full of contempt. "It was the calves. He brought home fivelast night--five that hadn't been branded last spring. Where he found them_I_ don't know--I didn't care enough about it to ask. He had been drinking, I think; I can usually tell--and he often carries a bottle in his pocket, as I happen to know. 

"Well, he had me make a fire and heat the iron for him, and he brandedthem--last night; he was very touchy about it when I asked him what was hishurry. I think now it was a stupid thing for him to do. And--well, in thenight, some time, I heard a cow bawling around close, and this morning Iwent out to drive her away; the fence is always down somewhere--I supposeshe found a place to get through. So I went out to drive her away. " Hereyes dropped, as if she were making a confession of her own misdeed. Sheclenched her hands tightly in her lap. 

"Well--it was a Wishbone cow. " After all, she said it very quietly. 

"The devil it was!" Kent had been prepared for something of the sort; but, nevertheless, he started when he heard his own outfit mentioned. 

"Yes. It was a Wishbone cow. " Her voice was flat and monotonous. "He hadstolen her calf. He had it in the corral, and he had branded it with hisown brand--with a VP. _With my initials!_" she wailed suddenly, as ifthe thought had just struck her, and was intolerably bitter. "She hadfollowed--had been hunting her calf; it was rather a little calf, smallerthan the others. And it was crowded up against the fence, trying to get toher. There was no mistaking their relationship. I tried to think he hadmade a mistake; but it's of no use--I know he didn't. I know he _stole_that calf. And for all I know, the others, too. Oh, it's perfectly horribleto think of!"

Kent could easily guess her horror of it, and he was sorry for her. But hismind turned instantly to the practical side of it. 

"Well--maybe it can be fixed up, if you feel so bad about it. DoesPolycarp--did he see the cow hanging around?"

Val shook her head apathetically. "No--he didn't come till just a littlewhile ago. That was this morning. And I drove her out of the coulee--herand her calf. They went off up over the hill. "

Kent stood looking down at her rather stupidly. 

"You--_what?_ What was it you did?" It seemed to him that something--somevital point of the story--had eluded him. 

"I drove them away. I didn't think they ought to be permitted tohang around here. " Her lips quivered again. "I--I didn't want to seehim--get--into any trouble. "

"You drove them away? Both of them?" Kent was frowning at her now. 

Val sprang up and faced him, all a-tremble with indignation. "Certainly, both! _I'm_ not a thief, Kent Burnett! When I knew--when there was nopossible doubt--why, what, in Heaven's name, _could_ I do? It wasn'tManley's calf. I turned it loose to go back where it belonged. "

"With a VP on its ribs!" Kent was staring at her curiously. 

"Well, I don't care! Fifty VP's couldn't make the calf Manley's. If anybodycame and saw that cow, why--" Val looked at him rafter pityingly, as if shecould not quite understand how he could even question her upon that point. "And, after all, " she added forlornly, "he's my husband. I couldn't--I hadto do what I could to shield him--just for sake of the past, I suppose. Much as I despise him, I can't forget that--that I cared once. It's becauseI wanted your advice that I--"

"It's a pity you didn't get it sooner, then! Can't you see what you'vedone? Why, think a minute! A VP calf running with a Wishbone cow--why, it's--you couldn't advertise Man as a rustler any better if you tried. Thefirst fellow that runs onto that cow and calf--well, he won't need to doany guessing--he'll _know_. It's a ticket to Deer Lodge--that VP calf. Nowdo you see?" He turned away to the window and stood looking absently at thebrown hillside, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. 

"And there's Fred De Garmo, with his new job, ranging around the countryjust aching to cinch somebody and show his authority. It's a matter of daysalmost. He'd like nothing better than to get a whack at Man, even if theWishbone--"

Outside, they could hear Polycarp throwing the wood off the wagon; knowinghim as they did, they knew, it would not be long before he found an excusefor coming into the house. He had more than once evinced a good deal ofinterest in Kent's visits there, and shown an unmistakable desire to knowwhat they were talking about. They had never paid much attention to him;but now even Val felt a vague uneasiness lest he overhear. She had beensitting, her face buried in her arms, crushed beneath the knowledge of whatshe had done. 

"Don't worry, little woman. " Kent went over and passed his hand lightlyover her hair. "You did what looked to you to be the right thing--thehonest thing. And the chances are he'd get caught before long, anyhow. Idon't reckon this is the first time he's done it. "

"Oh-h--but to think--to think that _I_ should do it--when I wanted to savehim! He--Kent, I despise him--he has killed all the love I ever felt forhim--killed it over and over--but if anybody finds that calf, and--andif they--Kent, I shall go crazy if I have to feel that _I_ senthim--to--prison. To think of him--shut up there--and to know that I didit--I can't bear it!" She caught his arm. She pressed her foreheadagainst it. "Kent, isn't there some way to get it back? If I should findit--and--and shoot it--and pay the Wishbone what it's worth--oh, _any_amount--or shoot the cow--or--" she raised her face imploringly tohis--"tell me, pal--or I shall go stark, raving mad!"

Polycarp came into the kitchen, and, from the sound, he was trying to enteras unobtrusively as possible, even to the extent of walking on his toes. 

"Go see what that darned old sneak wants, " Kent commanded in an undertone. "Act as if nothing happened--if you can. " He watched anxiously, while shedrew a long breath, pressed her hands hard against her cheeks, closed herlips tightly, and then, with something like composure, went quietly to thedoor and threw it open. Polycarp was standing very close to it, on theother side. He drew back a step. 

"I wondered if I better git another load, now I've got the team hookedup, " he began in his rasping, nasal voice, his slitlike eyes peeringinquisitively into the room. "Hello, Kenneth--I _thought_ that was yourhorse standin' outside. Or would you rather I cut up a pile? I dunno butwhat I'll have to go t'town t'-morrerr or next day--mebby I better cut yousome wood, hey? If Man ain't likely to be home, mebby--"

"I think, Polycarp, well have a storm soon. So it would be good policy tohaul another load, don't you think? I can manage very well with what thereis cut until Manley returns; and there are always small branches that I canbreak easily with the axe. I really think it would be safer to have anotherload hauled now while we can. Don't you think so?" Val even managed tosmile at him. "If my head wasn't so bad, " she added deceitfully, "I shouldbe tempted to go along, just for a dose sight of the river. Mr. Burnett isgoing directly--perhaps I may walk down later on. But you had better notwait--I shouldn't want to keep you working till dark. "

Polycarp, eying her and Kent, and the room in all its details, forced hishand into his trousers pocket, brought up his battered plug of tobacco andpried off a piece, which he rolled into his left cheek with his tongue. 

"Jest as you say, " he surrendered, though it was perfectly plain that hewould much prefer to cut wood and so be able to see all that went on, eventhough he was denied the gratification of hearing what they said. He waiteda moment, but Val turned away, and even had the audacity to close thedoor upon his unfinished reply. He listened for a moment, his head cranedforward. 

"Purty kinda goings-on!" he mumbled. "Time Man had a flea put in 'is ear, by granny, if he don't want to lose that yeller-eyed wife of hisn. " ToPolycarp, a closed door--when a man and woman were alone upon the otherside--could mean nothing but surreptitious kisses and the like. Hewent stumbling out and drove away down the coulee, his head turningautomatically so that his eyes were constantly upon the house; fromhis attitude, as Kent saw him through the window Polycarp expected anexplosion, at the very least. His outraged virtue vested itself in one moresentence; "Purty blamed nervy, by granny--to go 'n' shut the door right inm' face!"

Inside the room, Val stood for a minute with her back against the door, asif she half feared Polycarp would break in and drag her secret from her. When she heard him leave the kitchen she drew a long breath, eloquent initself: when the rattle of the wagon came to them there, she left thedoor and went slowly across the room until she stood close to Kent. Theinterruption had steadied them both. Her voice was a constrained calm whenshe spoke. 

[Illustration: To draw the red hot spur across the fresh VP did not takelong]

"Well--is there anything I can do? Because I suppose every minute isdangerous. "

Kent kept his eyes upon the departing Polycarp. 

"There's nothing you can do, no. Maybe I can do something; soon as thatgranny gossip is outa sight, I'll go and round up that cow and calf--ifsomebody hasn't beaten me to it. "

Val looked at him with a certain timid helplessness. 

"Oh! Will you--won't it be against the law if you--if you kill it?" Shegrew slightly excited again. "Kent, you shall not get into any troublefor--for his sake! If it comes to a choice, why--let him suffer for hiscrime. You shall not!"

Kent turned his head slowly and gazed down at her. "Don't run away with theidea I'm doing it for him, " he told her distinctly. "I love Man Fleetwoodlike I love a wolf. But if that VP calf catches him up, you'd fight yourhead over it, God only knows how long. I know you! You'd think so muchabout the part you played that you'd wind up by forgetting everything else. You'd get to thinking of him as a martyr, maybe! No--it's for you. I kindagot you into this, you recollect? If I'd let you see Man drank, that day, you'd never have married him; I know that now. So I'm going to get you outof it. My side of the question can wait. "

She stared up at him with a grave understanding. 

"But you know what I said--you won't do anything that can make youtrouble--won't you tell me, Kent, what you're going to do?"

He had already started to the door, but he stopped and smiled reassuringly. 

"Nothing so fierce. If I can find 'em, I aim to bar out that VP. Sabe?"

CHAPTER XX

A BLOTCHED BRAND

At the brow of the hill, which was the western rim of the coulee, Kentturned and waved a farewell to Val, watching him wistfully from the kitchendoor. She had wanted to go along; she had almost cried to go and help, butKent would not permit her--and beneath the unpleasantness of denying heranything, there had been a certain primitive joy in feeling himself masterof the situation and of her actions; for that one time it was as if shebelonged to him. At the last he had accepted the field glasses, which sheinsisted upon lending him, and now he was tempted to take them from theirworn, leathern case and focus them upon her face, just for the meagersatisfaction of one more look at her. But he rode on, oat of sight, for thenecessity which drove him forth did not permit much loitering if he wouldsucceed in what he had set out to do. 

Personally he would have felt no compunctions whatever about letting thecalf go, a walking advertisement of Manley's guilt. It seemed to him a sortof grim retribution, and no more than he deserved. He had not exaggeratedhis sentiments when he intimated plainly to her his hatred of Manley, andhe agreed with her that the fellow was making a despicable return for thekindness his neighbors had always shown him. No doubt he had stolen fromthe Double Diamond as well as the Wishbone. 

Once Kent pulled up, half minded to go back and let events shape themselveswithout any interference from him. But there was Val--women were so queerabout such things. It seemed to Kent that, if any man had caused him asmuch misery as Manley had caused Val, he would not waste much time worryingover him, if he tangled himself up with his own misdeeds. However, Valwanted that bit of evidence covered up; so, while Kent did not approve, hewent at the business with his customary thoroughness. 

The field glasses were a great convenience. More than once they saved himthe trouble of riding a mile or so to inspect a small bunch of stock. Nevertheless, he rode for several hours before, just at sundown, hediscovered the cow feeding alone with her calf in a shallow depression nearthe rough country next the river. They were wild, and he ran them out ofthe hollow and up on high ground before he managed to drop his loop overthe calf's head. 

"You sure are a dandy-fine sign-post, all right, " he observed, and grinneddown at the staring VP brand. 

"It's a pity you can't be left that way. " He glanced cautiously around himat the great, empty prairie. A mile or two away, a lone horseman was lopingleisurely along, evidently bound for the Double Diamond. 

"Say--this is kinda public, " Kent complained to the calf. "Let's you andme go down outa sight for a minute. " He started off toward the hollow, dragging the calf, a protesting bundle of stiffened muscles pulling againstthe rope. The cow, shaking her head in a halfhearted defiance, followed. Kent kept an uneasy eye upon the horseman, and hoped fervently the fellowwas absorbed in meditation and, would not glance in his direction. Once hewas almost at the point of turning the calf loose; for barring out brands, even illegal brands, is justly looked upon with disfavor, to say the least. 

Down in the hollow, which Kent reached with a sigh of relief, he dismountedand hastily started a little fire on a barren patch of ground beneath ajutting sandstone ledge. The calf, tied helpless, lay near by, and the cowhovered close, uneasy, but lacking courage for a rush. 

Kent laid hand upon his saddle, hesitated, and shook his head; he mightneed it in a hurry, and cinch ring takes time both in the removal and thereplacement--and is vitally important withal. His knife he had lost on thelast round-up. He scowled at the necessity, lifted his heel, and took offa spur. "And if that darned ginny don't get too blamed curious and conefogging over this way--" He spoke the phrase aloud, out of the middle of amental arrangement of the chance he was taking. 

To heat the spur red-hot, draw it across the fresh VP again and again, andfinally drag it crisscross once or twice to make assurance an absolutecertainty, did not take long. Kent was particular about not wasting anyseconds. The calf stopped its dismal blatting, and when Kent released itand coiled his rope, it jumped up and ran for its life, the cows amblingsolicitously at its heels. Kent kicked the dirt over the fire, eyed itsharply a moment to make sure it was perfectly harmless, mounted in haste, and rode up the sloping side down, which he had come. Just under the top ofthe slope, he peeked anxiously out over the prairie, ducked precipitately, and went clattering away down the hollow to the farther side; dodged arounda spur of rocks, forced his horse down over a wicked jumble of boulders tolevel land below, and rode as if a hangman's noose were the penalty fordelay. 

When he reached the river--which he did after many windings andturnings--he got off and washed his spur, scrubbing it diligently with sandin an effort to remove the traces of fire. When the evidence was at leastless conspicuous, he put it on his heel and jogged down the river bankquite innocently, inwardly thankful over his escape. He had certainly donenothing wrong; but one sometimes finds it rather awkward to be forced intoan explanation of a perfectly righteous deed. 

"If I'd been stealing that calf, I'd never have been crazy enough to takesuch a long chance, " he mused, and laughed a little. "I'll bet Fred thoughthe was due to grab a rustler right in the act--only he was a little bitslow about making up his mind; deputy stock inspectors had oughta thinkquicker than that--he was just about five minutes too deliberate. I'llgamble he's scratching his head, right now, over that blotched brand, trying to _sabe_ the play--which he won't, not in a thousand years!"

He gave the reins a twitch and began to climb through the dusk to thelighter hilltop, at a point just east of Cold Spring Coulee. At the top heput the spurs to his horse and headed straight as might be for the Wishboneranch. He would like to have told Val of his success, but he was afraidManley might be there, or Polycarp; it was wise always to avoid PolycarpJenks, if one had anything to conceal from his fellows. 

CHAPTER XXI

VAL DECIDES

It was the middle of the next forenoon when Manley came riding home, sullenfrom drink and a losing game of poker, which had kept him all night at thetable, and at sunrise sent him forth in the mood which meets a grievancemore than half-way. He did not stop at the house, though he saw Val throughthe open door; he did not trouble to speak to her, even, but rode on to thestable, stopping at the corral to look over the fence at the calves, stillbawling sporadically between half-hearted nibblings at the hay whichPolycarp had thrown in to them. 

Just at first he did not notice anything wrong, but soon a vague disquietseized him, and he frowned thoughtfully at the little group. Somethingpuzzled him; but his brain, fogged with whisky and loss of sleep, and thereaction from hours of concentration upon the game, could not quite graspthe thing that troubled him. In a moment, however, he gave an inarticulatebellow, wheeled about, and rode back to the house. He threw himself fromthe horse almost before it stopped, and rushed into the kitchen. Val, ironing one of her ruffled white aprons, looked up quickly, turned ratherpale, and then stiffened perceptibly for the conflict that was coming. 

"There's only four calves in the corral--and I brought in five. Where's theother one?" He came up and stood quite close to her--so close that Val tooka step backward. He did not speak loud, but there was something in histone, in his look, that drove the little remaining color from her face. 

"Manley, " she said, with a catch of the breath, "why did you do thathorrible thing? What devil possessed you? I--"

"I asked you 'where is that other calf'? Where is it? There's only four. Ibrought in five. " His very calmness was terrifying. 

Val threw back her head, and her eyes were--as they frequently became inmoments of stress--yellow, inscrutable, like the eyes of a lion in a cage. 

"Yes, you brought in five. One of the five, at least, you--stole. You putyour brand, Manley Fleetwood, on a calf that did not belong to you; itbelonged to the Wishbone, and you know it. I have learned many disagreeablethings about you, Manley, in the past two years; yesterday morning Ilearned that you were a _thief_. Ah-h--I despise you! Stealing from thevery men who helped you--the men to whom you owe nothing but gratitudeand--and friendship! Have you no manhood whatever? Besides being weak andshiftless, are you a criminal as well? _How_ can you be so utterly lackingin--in common decency, even?" She eyed him as she would look at somestrange monster in a museum about which she was rather curious. 

"I asked you where that other calf is--and you'd better tell me!" It wasthe tone which goes well with a knife thrust or a blow. But the contempt inVal's face did not change. 

"Well, you'll have to hunt for it if you want it. The cow--a Wishbone cow, mind you!--came and claimed it; I let her have it. No stolen goodscan remain on this ranch with my knowledge, Manley Fleetwood. Pleaseremember--"

"Oh, you turned it out, did you? You turned it out?" He had her by thethroat, shaking her as a puppy shakes a purloined shoe. "I could--_kill_you for that!"

"Manley! Ah-h-h--" It was not pleasant--that gurgling cry, as she straggledto get free. 

He had the look of a maniac as he pressed his fingers into her throat andglared down into her purpling face. 

With a sudden impulse he cast her limp form violently from him. She struckagainst a chair, fell from that to the floor, and lay a huddled heap, hercrisp, ruffled skirt just giving a glimpse of tiny, half-worn slippers, heryellow hair fallen loose and hiding her face. 

He stared down at her, but he felt no remorse--she had jeopardized hisliberty, his standing among men. A cold horror caught him when he thoughtof the calf turned loose on the range, his brand on its ribs. He rushedin a panic from the kitchen, flung himself into the saddle, and went offacross the coulee, whipping both sides of his horse. She had not toldhim--indeed, he had not asked her--which way the cow had gone, butinstinctively he rode to the west, the direction from which he had driventhe calves. One thought possessed him utterly; he must find that calf. 

So he rode here and there, doubling and turning to search every feedingherd he glimpsed, fearing to face the possibility of failure and itsinevitable consequence. 

The cat with the white spots on its sides--Val called her Mary Arabella, for some whimsical reason--came into the kitchen, looked inquiringly atthe huddled figure upon the floor, gave a faint mew, and went slowly up, purring and arching her back; she snuffed a moment at Val's hair, thensettled herself in the hollow of Val's arm, and curled down for a nap. Thesun, sliding up to midday, shone straight in upon them through the opendoor. 

Polycarp Jenks, riding that way in obedience to some obscure impulse, lifted his hand to give his customary tap-tap before he walked in; sawVal lying there, and almost fell headlong into the room in his haste andperturbation. It looked very much as if he had at last stumbled upon thehorrible tragedy which was his one daydream. To be an eyewitness of amurder, and to be able to tell the tale afterward with minute, horrifyingdetail--that, to Polycarp, would make life really worth living. He shuffledover to Val, pushed aside the mass of yellow hair, turned her head so thathe could look into her face, saw at once the bruised marks upon her throat, and stood up very straight. 

"Foul play has been done here!" he exclaimed melodramatically, eying thecat sternly. "Murder--that's what it is, by granny--a foul murder!"

The victim of the foul murder stirred slightly. Polycarp started and bentover her again, somewhat disconcerted, perhaps, but more humanly anxious. 

"Mis' Fleetwood--Mis' Fleetwood! You hurt? It's Polycarp Jenks talkin' toyou!" He hesitated, pushed the cat away, lifted Val with some difficulty, and carried her into the front room and deposited her on the couch. Then hehurried after some water. 

"Come might' nigh bein' a murder, by granny--from the marks on 'erneck--come might' nigh, all right!"

He sprinkled water lavishly upon her face, bethought him of a possiblewhisky flask in the haystack, and ran every step of the way there and back. He found a discarded bottle with a very little left in it, and forced theliquor down her throat. 

"That'll fetch ye if anything will--_he-he!_" he mumbled, tittering fromsheer excitement. Beyond a very natural desire to do what he could for her, he was extremely anxious to bring her to her senses, so that he could hearwhat had happened, and how it had happened. 

"Betche Man got jealous of her'n Kenneth--by granny, I betche that's how itcome about--hey? Feelin' better, Mis' Fleetwood?"

Val had opened her eyes and was looking at him rather stupidly. There was abruise upon her head, as well as upon her throat. She had been stunned, and her wits came back slowly. When she recognized Polycarp, she triedineffectually to sit up. 

"I--he--is--he--gone?" Her voice was husky, her speech labored. 

"Man, you mean? He's gone, yes. Don't you be afeared--not whilst I'm here, by granny! How came it he done this to ye?"

Val was still staring at him bewilderedly. Polycarp repeated his questionthree times before the blank look left her eyes. 

"I--turned the calf--out--the cow--came and--claimed it--Manley--" Shelifted her hand as if it were very, very heavy, and fumbled at her throat. "Manley--when I told him--he was a--thief--" She dropped her hand wearilyto her side and closed her eyes, as if the sight of Polycarp's face, soclose to hers and so insatiably curious and eager and cunning, was morethan she could bear. 

"Go away, " she commanded, after a minute or two. "I'm--all right. It'snothing. I fell. It was--the heat. Thank you--so much--" She opened hereyes and saw him there still. She looked at him gravely, speculatively. Shewaved her hand toward the bedroom. "Get me my hand glass--in there on thedresser, " she said. 

When he had tiptoed in and got it for her, she lifted it up slowly, withboth hands, until she could see her throat. There were distinct, telltalemarks upon the tender flesh--unmistakable finger prints. She shivered anddropped the glass to the floor. But she stared steadily up at Polycarp, andafter a moment she spoke with a certain fierceness. 

"Polycarp Jenks, don't ever tell--about those marks. I--I don't want anyone to know. When--after a while--I want to think first--perhaps you canhelp me. Go away now--not away from the ranch, but--let me think. I'm allright--or I will be. Please go. "

Polycarp recognized that tone, however it might be hoarsened by bruisedmuscles and the shock of what she had suffered. He recognized also thatlook in her eyes; he had always obeyed that look and that tone--he obeyedthem now, though with visible reluctance. He sat down in the kitchen towait, and while he waited he chewed tobacco incessantly, and ruminated uponthe mystery which lay behind the few words Val had first spoken, before sherealized just what it was she was saying. 

After a long, long while--so long that even Polycarp's patience was feelingthe strain--Val opened the door and stood leaning weakly against thecasing. Her throat was swathed in a piece of white silk. 

"I wish, Polycarp, you'd get the team and hitch it to the light rig, " shesaid. "I want to go to town, and I don't feel able to drive. Can you takeme in? Can you spare the time?"

"Why, certainly, I c'n take you in, Mis' Fleetwood. I was jest thinkn' itwa'n't safe for you out here--"

"It is perfectly safe, " Val interrupted chillingly. "I am going because IWant to see Arline Hawley. " She raised her hand to the bandage. "I havea sore throat, " she stated, staring hard at him. Then, with one of herimpulsive changes, she smiled wistfully. 

"You'll be my friend, Polycarp, won't you?" she pleaded. "I can trust you, I know, with my--secret. It is a secret--it _must_ be a secret! I'll tellyou the truth, Polycarp. It was Manley--he had been drinking again. He--wehad a quarrel--about something. He didn't know what he was doing--he didn'tmean to hurt me. But I fell--I struck my head; see, there is a greatlump there. " She pushed back her hair to show him the place. "So it's asecret--just between you and me, Polycarp Jenks!"

"Why, certainly, Mis' Fleetwood; don't you be the least mite oneasy; I'myour friend--I always have been. A feller ain't to be held responsible whenhe's drinkin'--by granny, that's a fact, he ain't. "

"No, " Val agreed laconically, "I suppose not. Let us go, then, as soon aswe can, please. I'll stay overnight with Mrs. Hawley, and you can bring meback to-morrow, can't you? And you'll remember not to mention--anything, won't you, Polycarp?"

Polycarp stood very straight and dignified. 

"I hope, Mis' Fleetwood, you can always depend on Polycarp Jenks, " hereplied virtuously. "Your secret is safe with me. "

Val smiled--somewhat doubtfully, it is true--and let him go. "Maybe itis--I hope so, " she sighed, as she turned away to dress for the trip. 

All through that long ride to town, Polycarp talked and talked and talked. He made surmises and waited openly to hear them confirmed or denied; hegave her advice; he told her everything he had ever heard about Manley, orhad seen or knew from some other source; everything, that is, save what wasgood. The sums he had lost at poker, or had borrowed; the debts he owed tothe merchants; the reputation he had for "talking big and doing little;"the trouble he had had with this man and that man; and what he did not knowfor a certainty he guessed at, and so kept the subject alive. 

True, Val did not speak at all, except when he asked her how she felt. Thenshe would reply dully, "Pretty well, thank you, Polycarp. " Invariably thosewere the words she used. Whenever he stole a furtive, sidelong glance ather, she was staring straight ahead at the great, undulating prairie withthe brown ribbon, which was the trail, thrown carelessly across to the skyline. 

Polycarp suspected that she did not see anything--she just stared with hereyes, while her thoughts were somewhere else. He was not even sure that sheheard what he was saying. He thought she must be pretty sick, she was sopale, and she had such wide, purple rings under her eyes. Also, he ratherresented her desire to keep her trouble a secret; he favored tellingeverybody, and organizing a party to go out and run Man Fleetwood out ofthe country, as the very mildest rebuke which the outraged community couldgive and remain self-respecting. He even fell silent daring the last threeor four miles, while he dwelt longingly upon the keen pleasure there wouldbe in leading such an expedition. 

"You'll remember, Polycarp, not to speak of this?" Val urged abruptly whenhe drew up before the Hawley Hotel. "Not a hint, you know until--until Igive you permission. You promised. "

"Oh, certainly, Mis' Fleetwood. Certainly. Don't you be a mite oneasy. " Butthe tone of Polycarp was dejected in the extreme. 

"And please be ready to drive me back in the morning. I should like to beat the ranch by noon, at the latest. " With that she left him and went intothe hotel. 

CHAPTER XXII

A FRIEND IN NEED

"And so, " Val finished, rather apathetically, pushing back the fallen lockof hair, "it has come to that. I can't remain here and keep any shred ofself-respect. All my life I've been taught to believe divorce a terriblething--a crime, almost; now I think it is sometimes a crime _not_ to bedivorced. For months I have been coming slowly to a decision, so thisis really not as sudden as it may seem to you. It is humiliating to becompelled to borrow money--but I would much rather ask you than any of myown people. My pride is going to suffer enough when I meet them, as it is;I can't let them know just how miserable and sordid a failure--"

Arline gave an inarticulate snort, bent her scrawny body nearly double, and reached frankly into her stocking. She fumbled there a moment andstraightened triumphantly, grasping a flat, buckskin bag. 

"I'd feel like shakin' you if you went to anybody else but me, " shedeclared, untying the bag. "I know what men is--Lord knows I see enough of'em and their meanness--and if I can help a woman outa the clutches of one, I'm tickled to death to git the chancet. I ain't sayin' they're all of 'embad--I c'n afford to give the devil his due and still say that men is thelimit. The good ones is so durn scarce it ain't one woman in fifty luckyenough to git one. All I blame you for is stayin' with him as long as youhave. I'd of quit long ago; I was beginnin' to think you never would cometo your senses. But you had to fight that thing out for yourself; everywoman has to. 

"I'm glad you've woke up to the fact that Man Fleetwood didn't git a deedto you, body and soul, when he married you; you've been actin' as if youthought he had. And I'm glad you've got sense enough to pull outa the gamewhen you know the best you can expect is the worst of it. There ain't nohope for Man Fleetwood; I seen that when he went back to drinkin' againafter you was burnt out. I did think that would steady him down, but heain't the kind that braces up when trouble hits him--he's the sort thatstays down ruther than go to the trouble of gittin' up. He's hopeless nowas a rotten egg, and has been for the last year. Here; you take the hullworks, and if you need more, I can easy git it for you by sendin' in to thebank. "

"Oh, but this is too much!" Val protested when she had counted the money. "You're so good--but really and truly, I won't need half--"

Arline pushed away the proffered money impatiently. "How'n time are yougoin' to tell how much you'll need? Lemme tell you, Val Peyson--I ain'tgoin' to call you by his name no more, the dirty cur!--I've been packin'that money in my stockin' for six months, jest so'st to have it handy whenyou wanted it. Divorces cost more'n marriage licenses, as you'll find outwhen you git started. And--"

"You--why, the idea!" Val pursed her lips with something like her oldspirit. "How could _you_ know I'd need to borrow money? I didn't know itmyself, even. I--"

"Well, I c'n see through a wall when there's a knothole in it, " paraphrasedArline calmly. "You may not know it, but you've been gittin' your back-Eastnotions knocked outa you pretty fast the last year or so. It was all aquestion of what kinda stuff you was made of underneath. You c'n put apolish on most anything, so I couldn't tell, right at first, what there wasto you. But you're all right--I've seen that a long time back; and so Iknowed durn well you'd be wantin' money to pull loose with. It takes money, though I know it ain't polite to say much about real dollars 'n' cents. You'll likely use every cent of that before you're through with thedeal--and remember, there's a lot more growin' on the same bush, if youneed it. It's only waitin' to be picked. "

Val stared, found her eyes blurring so that she could not see, and witha sudden, impulsive movement leaned over and put her arms around Arline, unkempt, scrawny, and wholly unlovely though she was. 

"Arline, you're an angel of goodness!" she cried brokenly. "You're the bestfriend I ever had in my life--I've had many who petted me and flatteredme--but you--you _do_ things! I'm ashamed--because I haven't loved youevery minute since I first saw you. I judged you--I mean--oh, you're pure, shining gold inside, instead of--"

"Oh, git out!" Arline was compelled to gulp twice before she could say eventhat much. "I don't shine nowhere--inside er out. I know that well enough. I never had no chancet to shine. It's always been wore off with hardknocks. But I like shiny folks all right--when they're fine clear through, and--"

"Arline--dear, I do love you. I always shall. I--"

Arline loosened her clasp and jumped up precipitately. 

"Git out!" she repeated bashfully. "If you git me to cryin', Val Peyson, I'll wish you was in Halifax. You go to bed, 'n' go to sleep, er I'll--"She almost ran from the room. Outside, she stopped in a darkened cornerof the hallway and stood for some minutes with her checked gingham apronpressed tightly over her face, and several times she sniffed audibly. Whenshe finally returned to the kitchen her nose was pink, her eyelids werepink, and she was extremely petulant when she caught Minnie eying hercuriously. 

Val had refused to eat any supper, and, beyond telling Arline that she haddecided to leave Manley and return to her mother in Fern Hill, she had notexplained anything very clearly--her colorless face, for instance, nor hertightly swathed throat, nor the very noticeable bruise upon her temple. 

Arline had not asked a single question. Now, however, she spent some timefixing a tray with the daintiest food she knew and could procure, and tookit upstairs with a certain diffidence in her manner and a rare tendernessin her faded, worldly-wise eyes. 

"You got to eat, you know, " she reminded Val gently. "You're bucking upag'inst the hardest part of the trail, and grub's a necessity. Take it likeyou would medicine--unless your throat's too sore. I see you got it alltied up. "

Val raised her hands in a swift alarm and clasped her throat as if shefeared Arline would remove the bandages. 

"Oh, it's not sore--that is, it is sore--I mean not very much, " shestammered betrayingly. 

Arline set down the tray upon the dresser and faced Val grimly. 

"I never asked you any questions, did I?" she demanded. "But you act forall the world as if--do you want me to give a guess about that tied-upneck, and that black'n'blue lump on your forehead? I never asked anyquestions--I didn't need to. Man Fleetwood's been maulin' you abound. I waskinda afraid he'd git to that point some day when he got mad enough; he'sjust the brand to beat up a woman. But if it took a beatin' to bring youto the quitting point, I'm glad he done it. _Only_, " she added darkly, "hebetter keep outa my reach; I'm jest in the humor to claw him up some if Ishould git close enough. And if I happened to forget I'm a lady, I'd surebawl him out, and the bigger crowd heard me the better. Now, you eatthis--and don't get the idee you can cover up any meanness of ManFleetwood's; not from me, anyhow. I know men better'n you do; you couldn'ttell me nothing about 'em that would su'prise me the least bit. I'm onlythankful he didn't murder you in cold blood. Are you going to eat?"

"Not if you keep on reminding me of such h-horrid things, " wailed Val, and sobbed into her pillow. "It's bad enough to--to have him ch-choke mewithout having you t-talk about it all the time!"

"Now, honey, don't you waste no tears on a brute like him--he ain't w-worthit!" Arline was on her bony knees beside the bed, crying with sympathy andself-reproach. 

So, in truly feminine fashion, the two wept their way back to the solidground of everyday living. Before they reached that desirable state ofcomposure, however, Val told her everything--within certain limits set notby caution, but rather by her woman's instinct. She did not, for instance, say much about Kent, though she regretted openly that Polycarp knew so muchabout it. 

"Hope never needed no newspaper so long as Polycarp lives here, " Arlinegrumbled when Val was sitting up again and trying to eat Arline's toast, and jelly made of buffalo berries, and sipping the tea which had gonecold. "But if I can round him up in time, I'll try and git him to keep hismouth shet. I'll scare the liver outa him some way. But if he caught ontothat calf deal--" She shook her head doubtfully. "The worst of it is, Fred's in town, and he's always pumpin' Polycarp dry, jest to find out allthat's goin' on. You go to bed, and I'll see if I can find out whetherthey're together. If they are--but you needn't to worry none. I reckon I'ma match for the both of 'em. Why, I'd dope their coffee and send 'em bothto sleep till Man got outa the country, if I had to!"

She stood with her hands upon her angular hips and glared at Val. 

"I sure would do that, very thing--for _you_, " she reiterated solemnly, "Idon't purtend I'd do it for Man--but I would for you. But it's likely Kenthas fixed things up so they can't git nothing on Man if they try. He wouldif he said he would; that there's _one_ feller that's on the square. You goto bed now, whilst I go on a still hunt of my own. I'll come and tell youif there's anything to tell. "

It was easy enough to make the promise, but keeping it was so difficultthat she yielded to the temptation of going to bed and letting Val sleep inpeace; which she could not have done if she had known that Polycarp Jenksand Fred De Garmo left town on horseback within an hour after Polycarp hadentered it, and that they told no man their errand. 

Over behind Brinberg's store, Polycarp had told Fred all he knew, all hesuspected, and all he believed would come to pass. "Strictly on the quiet, "of course--he reminded Fred of that, over and over, because he had promisedMrs. Fleetwood that he would not mention it. 

"But, by granny, " he apologized, "I didn't like the idee of keepin' _a_thing like that from _you_; it would kinda look as if I was standin' in onthe deal, which I ain't. Nobody can't accuse me of rustlin', no matter whatelse I might do; you know that, Fred. "

"Sure, I know you're honest, anyway, " Fred responded quite sincerely. 

"Well, I considered it my duty to tell you. I've kinda had my suspicionsall fall, that there was somethin' scaly goin' on at Cold Spring. Looked tome like Man had too blamed many calves missed by spring round-up--for thesize of his herd. I dunno, of course, jest where he gits 'em--you'll haveto find that out. But he's brung twelve er fourteen to the ranch, two erthree at a time. And what she said when she first come to--told me rightout, by granny, 'at Man choked her because she called 'im a thief, andsomethin' about a cow comin' an' claimin' her calf, and her turnin' it out. That oughta be might' nigh all the evidence you need, Fred, if you find it. She don't know she said it, but she wouldn't of told it, by granny, if itwasn't so--now would she?"

"And you say all this happened to-day?" Fred pondered for a minute. "That'squeer, because I almost caught a fellow last night doing some funny workon a calf. A Wishbone cow it was, and her calf fresh burned--a barred-outbrand, by thunder! If it was to-day, I'd, say Man found it and blotched thebrand. I wish now I'd hazed them over to the Double Diamond and corralled'em, like I had a mind to. But we can find them, easy enough. But thatwas last night, and you say this big setting came off to-day; you _sure_, Polly?"

"'Course I'm sure. " Polycarp waggled his head solemnly. He was enjoyinghimself to the limit. He was the man on the inside, giving out informationof the greatest importance, and an officer of the law was hanging anxiouslyupon his words. He spoke slowly, giving weight to every word. "I rode up tothe house--Man's house--somewhere close to noon, an' there she was, layin'on the kitchen floor. Didn't know nothin', an' had the marks of somebody'sfingers on 'er throat; the rest of her neck's so white they showed up, bygranny, like--like--" Polycarp never could think of a simile. He alwaysexpectorated in such an emergency, and left his sentence unfinished. He didso now, and Fred cut in unfeelingly. 

"Never mind that--you've gone over it half a dozen times. You say it wasto-day, at noon, or thereabouts. Man must have done it when he found outshe'd turned the calf loose--he wouldn't unless he was pretty mad, andscared. He isn't cold-blooded enough to wait till he'd barred out thebrand, and then go home and choke his wife. He didn't know about the calftill to-day, that's a cinch. " He studied the matter with an air of graveimportance. 

"Polycarp, " he said abruptly, "I'm going to need you. We've got to findthat bunch of cattle--it ought to be easy enough, and haze 'em down intoMan's field where his bunch of calves are--see? Any calf that's been weanedin the last three weeks will be pretty likely to claim its mother; and ifhe's got any calves branded that claim cows with some other brand--well--"He threw out his hands in a comprehensive gesture. "That's the quickest wayI know to get him, " he said. "I want a witness along, and some help. Andyou, " he eyed Polycarp keenly, "ain't safe running around town loose. Allyour brains seem to leak out your mouth. So you come along with me. "

"Well--any time after to-morrer, " hedged Polycarp, offended by theimplication that he talked too much. "I've got to drive the team home forMis' Fleetwood to-morrer, I tol' her I would--"

"Well, you won't. You're going to hit the trail with me just as soon as Ican find a horse for you to ride. We'll sleep at the Double Diamond, andstart from there in the morning. And if I catch you letting a word outa youabout this deal, I'll just about have to arrest you for--" He did notquite know what, but the very vagueness of the threat had its effect uponPolycarp. 

He went without further argument, though first he went to the HawleyHotel--with Fred close beside him as a precaution against imprudentgossip--and left word in the office that he would not be able to drive Mrs. Fleetwood home, the next morning, but would be back to take her out the dayafter that, if she did not mind staying in town. It was that message whichArline deliberately held back from Val until morning. 

"You better stay here, " she advised then. "Polycarp an' Fred's up to somedevilment, that's a cinch; but whatever it is, you're better off right herewith me. S'posen you should drive out there and run into Man--what then?"

Val shivered. "I--that's the only thing I can't bear, " she admitted, as ifthe time for proud dignity and reserve had gone by. "If I could be sure Iwouldn't need to meet him, I'd rather go alone; really and truly, I would. You know the horses are perfectly safe--I've driven them to town fiftytimes if I have once. I had to, out there alone so much of the time. I'drather not have Polycarp spying around. I've got to pack up--there are somany things of no value to--to _him_, things I brought out here with me. And there are all my manuscripts; I can't leave them lying around, even ifthey aren't worth anything; especially since they aren't worth anything. "She pushed back her hair with a weary movement. "If I could only besure--if I knew where _he_ is, " she sighed. 

"I'll lend you my gun, " Arline offered in good faith. "If he comes aroundyou and starts any funny business again, you can stand him off, even if yougot some delicate feelin's about blowin' his brains out. "

"Oh, I couldn't. I'm deadly afraid of guns. " Val shuddered. 

"Well, then you can't go atone. I'd go with you, if you could git packedup so as to come back to-day. I guess Min could make out to git two mealsalone. "

"Oh, no. Really and truly, Arline, I'd just as soon go alone. I wouldrather, dear. "

Arline was not accustomed to being called "dear. " She surrendered with someconfusion and a blush. 

"Well, you better wait, " she admonished temporizingly. "Something may turnup. "

Presently something did turn up. She rushed breathlessly into Val's roomand caught her by the arm. 

"Now's your chancet, Val, " she hissed in a loud whisper. "Man jest now rodeinto town; he's over in Pop's place--I seen him go in. He's good for theday, sure. I'll have Hank hitch right up, an' you can go down to the stableand start from there, so'st he won't see you. An' I'll keep an eye out, 'n'if he leaves town I won't be fur behind, lemme tell you. He won't, though;there ain't one chancet in a hundred he'll leave that saloon till he'sfull--an' if he tries t' go then, I'll have somebody lock 'im up in the icehouse till you git back. You want to hurry up that packin', an' git in herequick's you can. "

She went to the stable with Val, her apron thrown over her head for wantof a hat. "When Val was settling herself in the seat, Arline caught at thewheel. 

"Say! How'n time you goin' to git your trunks loaded into the wagon?" shecried. "You can't do it alone. " Val parsed her lips; she had not thought ofthat. 

"But Polycarp will come, by the time I am ready, " she decided. "Youcouldn't keep him away, Arline; he would be afraid he might miss something, because I suppose ours is the only ranch in the country where the wheelsaren't turning smoothly. Polycarp and I can manage. "

Hank, grinning under his ragged, brown mustache, handed her the lines. "I've got my orders, " he told her briefly. "I'll watch out the trail's keptclear. "

"Oh, thank you. I've so many good friends, " Val answered, giving him asmile to stir his sluggish blood. "Good-bye, Arline. Don't worry about me, there's a dear. I shall not be back before to-morrow night, probably. "

Both Arline and Hank stood where they were and watched her out of sightbefore they turned back to the sordid tasks which made up their lives. 

"She'll make it--she's the proper stuff, " Hank remarked, and lighted hispipe. Arline, for a wonder, sighed and said nothing. 

CHAPTER XXIII

CAUGHT!

After two nights and a day of torment unbearable, Kent bolted from hiswork, which would have taken him that day, as it had done the day before, in a direction opposite to that which his mind and his heart followed, andwithout apology or explanation to his foreman rode straight to Cold SpringCoulee. He had no very definite plan, except to see Val. He did not evenknow what he would say when he faced her. 

Michael was steaming from nose to tail when he stopped at the yard gate, which shows how impatience had driven his master. Kent glanced quicklyaround the place as he walked up the narrow path to the house. Nothingwas changed in the slightest particular, as far as he could see, and herealized then that he had been uneasy as well as anxious. Both doors wereclosed, so that he was obliged to knock before Val became visible. He had afleeting impression of extreme caution in the way she opened the door andlooked out, but he forgot it immediately in his joy at seeing her. 

"Oh, it's you. Come in, and--you won't mind if I close the door? I'm afraidI'm the victim of nerves, to-day. "

"Why?" Kent was instantly solicitous. "Has anything happened since I washere?"

Val shook her head, smiling faintly. "Nothing that need to worry _you_, pal. I don't want to talk about worries. I want to be cheered up; I haven'tlaughed, Kent, for so long I'm afraid my facial muscles are getting stiff. Say something funny, can't you?"

Kent pushed his hat far back on his head and sat down upon a corner of thetable. "Such is life in the far West--and the farther West you go, thelivelier--" he began to declaim dutifully. 

"The livelier it gets. Yes, I've heard that a million tunes, I believe. Ican't laugh at that; I never did think it funny. " She sighed, and twitchedher shoulders impatiently because of it. "I see you brought back theglasses, " she remarked inanely. "You certainly weren't in any great hurry, were you?"

"Oh, they had us riding over east of the home ranch, hazing in some outathe hills. I'm supposed to be over there right now--but I ain't. I expectI'll get the can, all right--"

"If you're going away, what do you care?" she taunted. 

"H'm--sure, what do I care?" He eyed her from under his brows while he bentto light a match upon the sole of his boot. Val had long ago settled hiscompunctions about smoking in her presence. "You seem to be all tore up, here, " he observed irrelevantly. "Cleaning house?"

"Yes--cleaning house. " Val smiled ambiguously. 

"Hubby in town?"

"Yes--he went in yesterday, and hasn't come back yet. "

Kent smoked for a moment meditatively. "I found that calf, all right, " heinformed her at last. "It was too late to ride around this way and tell youthat night. So you needn't worry any more about that. "

"I'm not worrying about that. " Val stooped and picked up a hairpin from thefloor, and twirled it absently in her fingers. "I don't think it matters, any more. Yesterday afternoon Fred De Garmo and Polycarp Jenks came intothe coulee with a bunch of cattle, and turned all the calves out of theriver field with them; and, after a little, they drove the whole lot ofthem away somewhere--over that way. " She waved a slim hand to the west. "They let out the calves in the corral, too. I saw them from the window, but I didn't ask them any questions. I really didn't need to, did I?" Shegrazed him with a glance. "I thought perhaps you had failed to find thatcalf; I'm glad you did, though--so it wasn't that started them huntingaround here--Polycarp and Fred I mean. "

Kent looked at her queerly. Her voice was without any emotion whatever, asif the subject held no personal interest for her. He finished his cigaretteand threw the stub out into the yard before either of them spoke anotherword. He closed the door again, stood there for a minute making up hismind, and went slowly over to where she was sitting listlessly in a chair, her hands folded loosely in her lap. He gripped with one hand the chairbackand stared down at her high-piled, yellow hair. 

"How long do you think I'm going to stand around and let you be draggedinto trouble like this?" he began abruptly. "You know what I told you theother day--I could say the same thing over again, and a lot more; and I'dmean more than I could find words for. Maybe you can stand this sortof thing--I can't. I'm not going to try. If you're bound to stick tothat--that gentleman, I'm going to get outa the country where I can't seeyou killed by inches. Every time I come, you're a little bit whiter, and alittle bigger-eyed--I can't stand it, I tell you!

"You weren't made for a hell like you're living. You were meant to behappy--and I was meant to make you happy. Every morning when I open myeyes--do you know what I think? I think it's another day we oughta be happyin, you and me. " He took her suddenly by the shoulder and brought her up, facing him, where he could look into her eyes. 

"We've only got just one life to live, Val!" he pleaded. "And we could behappy together--I'd stake my life on that. I can't go on forever just beingfriends, and eating my heart out for you, and seeing you abused--and whatfor? Just because a preacher mumbled some words over you two! Only forthat, you wouldn't stay with him over-night, and you know it! Is _that_what ought to tie two human beings together--without love, or evenfriendship? You hate him; you can't look me in the eyes and say you don't. And he's tired of you. Some other woman would please him better. And Icould make you happy!"

Val broke away from his grasp, and retreated until the table was betweenthem. Her listlessness was a thing forgotten. She was panting with thequick beating of her heart. 

"Kent--don't, pal! You mustn't say those things--it's wicked. "

"It's true, " he cried hotly. "Can you look at me and say it ain't thetruth?"

"You've spoiled our friendship, Kent!" she accused, while she evaded hisquestion. "It meant so much to me--just your dear, good friendship. "

"My love could mean a whole lot more, " he declared sturdily. 

"But you mustn't say those things--you mustn't feel that way, Kent!"

"Oh!" He laughed grimly. "Mustn't I? How are you going to stop me?" Hestared hard at her, his face growing slowly rigid. "There's just one way tostop me from saying such wicked things, " he told her. "You can tell me youdon't care anything about me, and never could, not even if that down-eastconscience of yours didn't butt into the game. You can tell me that, andswear it's the truth, and I'll leave the country. I'll go so far you'llnewer see me again, so I'll never bother you any more. I can't promise I'llstop loving you--but for my own sake I'll sure try hard enough. " He set histeeth hard together and stood quiet, watching her. 

Val tied to answer him. Evidently she could not manage her voice, for hesaw her begin softly beating her lips with her fist, fighting to get backher self-control. Once or twice he had seen her do that, when, womanlike, the tears would come in spite of her. 

"I don't want you to go a-away, " she articulated at last, with a hint ofstubbornness. 

"Well, what _do_ you want? I can't stay, unless--" He did not attempt tofinish the sentence. He knew there was no need; she understood well enoughthe alternative. 

For long minutes she did not speak, because she could not. Like many women, she fought desperately against the tears which seemed a badge of herfemininity. She sat down in a chair, dropped her face upon her foldedarms, and bit her lips until they were sore. Kent took a step toward her, reconsidered, and went over to the window, where he stood staring moodilyout until she began speaking. Even then, he did not turn immediately towardher. 

"You needn't go, Kent, " she said with some semblance of calm. "Because I'mgoing. I didn't tell you--but I'm going home. I'm going to get free, bythe same law that tied me to him. You are right--I have a 'down-east'conscience. I think I was born with it. It demands that I get my freedomhonestly; I can't steal it--pal. I couldn't be happy if I did that, nomatter how hard I might try--or you. "

He turned eagerly toward her then, but she stopped him with a gesture. 

"No--stay where you are. I want to solve my problem and--and leave you outof it; you're a complication, pal--when you talk like--like you've justbeen talking. It makes my conscience wonder whether I'm honest with myself. I've got to leave you out, don't you see? And so, leaving you out, I don'tfeel that any woman should be expected to go on like I'm doing. You don'tknow--I couldn't tell you just how--impossible--this marriage of mine hasbecome. The day after--well, yesterday--no, the day before yesterday--hecame home and found out--what I'd done. He--I couldn't stay here, afterthat, so--"

"What did he do?" Kent demanded sharply. "He didn't dare to lay his handson you--did he? By--"

"Don't swear, Kent--I hear so much of that from him!" Val smiled curiously. "He--he swore at me. I couldn't stay with him, after that--could I, dear?"Whether she really meant to speak that last word or not, it set Kent'sblood dancing so that he forgot to urge his question farther. He took twoeager steps toward her, and she retreated again behind the table. 

"Kent, don't! How can I tell you anything, if you won't be good?" Shewaited until he was standing rather sulkily by the window again. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now what he has done. I am going to leave him. I'm goingto get a divorce. Not even the strictest 'down-east' conscience coulddemand that I stay. I'm perfectly at ease upon that point. About this lasttrouble--with the calves--if I could help him, I would, of course. But allI could say would only make matters worse--and I'm a wretched failure atlying. I can help him more, I think, by going away. I feel certain there'sgoing to be trouble over those calves. Fred De Garmo never would have comedown here and driven them all away, would he, unless there was going to betrouble?"

"If he came in here and got the calves, it looks as if he meant business, all right. " Kent frowned absently at the white window curtain. "I've seenthe time, " he added reflectively, "when I'd be all broke up to have Man getinto trouble. We used to be pretty good friends!"

"A year ago it would have broken my heart, " Val sighed. "We do change so! Ican't quite understand Why I should feel so indifferent about it now; eventhe other day it was terrible. But when I felt his fingers--" she stoppedguiltily. "He seems a stranger to me now. I don't even hate him so verymuch. I don't want to meet him, though. "

"Neither do I. " But there was a different meaning in Kent's tone. "Soyou're going to quit?" He looked at her thoughtfully--"You'll leave youraddress, I hope!"

"Oh, yes. " Val's voice betrayed some inward trepidation. "I'm not runningaway; I'm just going. "

"I see. " He sighed, impatient at the restraint she had put upon him. "Thatdon't mean you won't ever come back, does it? Or that the trains are goingto quit carrying passengers to your town? Because you can't _always_ keepme outa your 'problem, ' let me tell you. Is it against the rules to askwhen you're going--and how?"

"Just as soon as I can get my trunks packed, and Polycarp--orsomebody--comes to help me load them into the spring wagon. I promisedArline Hawley I would be in town to-night. I don't know, though--I don'tseem to be making much progress with my packing. " She smiled at him morebrightly. "Let's wade ashore, pal, and get to work instead of talking aboutthings better left alone. I know just exactly what you're thinking--and I'mgoing to let you help me instead of Polycarp. I'm frightfully angry withhim, anyway. He promised me, on his word of honor, that be wouldn't mentiona thing--and he must have actually hunted for a chance to tell! He didn'thave the nerve to come to the house yesterday, when he was here withFred--perhaps he won't come to-day, after all. So you'll have to help memake my getaway, pal. "

Kent wavered. "You're the limit, all right, " he told her after a period ofhesitation. "You just wait, old girl, till you get that conscience ofyours squared! What shall I do? I can pack a war-bag in one minute andthree-quarters, and a horse in five minutes--provided he don't get gay andpitch the pack off a time or two, and somebody's around to help throw thehitch. Just tell me where to start in, and you won't be able to see me fordust!"

"You seem in a frightful hurry to have me go, " Val complained, laughingnevertheless with the nervous reaction. "Packing a trunk takes time, andcare, and intelligence. "

"Now isn't that awful?" Kent's eyes flared with mirth, all the morepronounced because it was entirely superficial. "Well, you take the timeand care, Mrs. Goodpacker, and I'll cheerfully furnish the intelligence, This goes, I reckon?" He squeezed a pink cushion into as small a space aspossible, and held it out at arm's length. 

"That goes--to Arline. _Don't_ put it in there!" Val's laughter was not farfrom hysteria. Kent was pretending to stuff the pink cushion into her handbag. 

"Better take it; you'll--"

The front door was pushed violently open and Manley almost fell into theroom. Val gave a little, inarticulate cry and shrank back against the wallbefore she could recover herself. They had for the moment forgotten Manley, and all he stood for in the way of heartbreak. 

A strange-looking Manley he was, with his white face and staring, bloodshoteyes, and the cruel, animal lines around his mouth. Hardly recognizable toone who had not seen him since three or four years before, he would havebeen. He stopped short just over the threshold, and glanced suspiciouslyfrom one to the other before he came farther into the room. 

"Dig up some grub, Val--in a bag, so I can carry it on horseback, " hecommanded. "And a blanket--where did you put those rifle cartridges?" Hehurried across the room to where his rifle and belt hung upon the wall, just over the little, homemade bookcase. "I had a couple of boxes--whereare they?" He snatched down the rifle, took the belt, and began buckling itaround him with fumbling fingers. 

Mechanically Val reached upon a higher shelf and got him the two boxes ofshells. Her eyes were fixed curiously upon his face. 

"What has happened?" she asked him as he tore open a box and began pushingthe shells, one by one, into his belt. 

"Fred De Garmo--he tried to arrest me--in town--I shot him dead, " Heglanced furtively at Kent. "Can I take your horse, Kent? I want to getacross the river before--"

"You shot--Fred--" Val was staring at him stupidly. He whirled savagelytoward her. 

"Yes, and I'd shoot any man that walked up and tried to take me. He wasa fool if he thought all he had to do was crook his finger and say 'Comealong. ' It was over those calves--and I'd say you had a hand in it, if Ihadn't found that calf, and saw how you burned out the brand before youturned it loose. You might have told me--I wouldn't have--" He shifted hisgaze toward Kent. "The hell of it is, the sheriff happened to be in townfor something; he's back a couple of miles--for God's sake, move! And getthat flour and bacon, and some matches. I've got to get across the river. Ican shake 'em off, on the other side. Hurry, Val!"

She went out into the kitchen, and they heard her moving about, collectingthe things he needed. 

"I'll have to take your horse, Kent. " Manley turned to him with a certainwheedling tone, infinitely disgusting to the other. "Mine's all in--I rodehim down, getting this far. I've got to get across the river, and intothe hills the other side--I can dodge 'em over there. You can have myhorse--he's good as yours, anyway. " He seemed to fed a slight discomfort atKent's silence. "You've always stood by me--anyway, it wasn't so muchmy fault--he came at me unawares, and says 'Man Fleetwood, you're myprisoner!' Why, the very tone of him was an insult--and I won't stand forbeing arrested--I pulled my gun and got him through the lungs--heard 'emyelling he was dead--Hurry up with that grub! I can't wait here till--"

"I ought to tell you Michael's no good for water, " Kent forced himself tosay. "He's liable to turn back on you; he's scared of it. "

"He won't turn back with _me_--not with old Jake Bondy at my heels!" Manleysnatched the bag of provisions from Val when she appeared, and started forthe door. 

"You better leave off some of that hardware, then, " Kent advisedperfunctorily. "You're liable to have to swim. "

"I don't care how I get across, just so--" A panic seemed to seize himthen. Without a word of thanks or farewell he rushed out, threw himselfinto Kent's saddle without taking time to tie on his bundle of bacon andflour, or remembering the blanket he had asked for. Holding his provisionsunder his arm, his rifle in one hand, and his reins clutched in the other, he struck the spurs home and raced down the coulee toward the river. Fredand Polycarp had not troubled to put up the wire gate after emptying theriver field, so he had a straight run of it to the very river bank. The twostood together at the window and watched him go. 

CHAPTER XXIV

RETRIBUTION

"He thought it was I burned out that, brand; did you notice what he said?"Val, as frequently happens in times of stress, spoke first of a trivialmatter, before her mind would grasp the greater issues. 

"He'll never make it, " said Kent, speaking involuntarily his thought. "There comes old Jake Bondy, now, down the hill. Still, I dunno--if Michaeltakes to the water all right--"

"If the sheriff comes here, what shall we tell him? Shall we--"

"He won't. He's turning off, don't you see? He must have got a sight ofMan from the top of the hill. Michael's tolerably fresh, and Jake's horseisn't; that makes a big difference. "

Val weakened unexpectedly, as the full meaning of it all swept through hermind. 

"Oh, it's horrible!" she whispered. "Kent, what can we do?"

"Not a thing, only keep our heads, and don't give way to nerves, " hehinted. "It's something out of our reach; let's not go all to pieces overit, pal. "

She steadied under his calm voice. 

"I'm always acting foolish just at the wrong time--but to think he could--"

"Don't think! You'll have enough of that to do, managing your own affairs. All this doesn't change a thing for you. It makes you feel bad--and forthat I could kill him, almost!" So much flashed out, and them he broughthimself in hand again. "You've still got to pack your trunks, and take thetrain home, just the same as if this hadn't happened. I didn't like theidea at first, but now I see it's the best thing you can do, for thepresent. After awhile--we'll see about it. Don't look out, if it upsetsyou, Val. You can't do any good, and you've got to save your nerves. Letpull down the shade--"

"Oh, I've got to see!" Perversely, she caught up the field glasses from thetable, drew them from their case, and, letting down the upper window sashwith a slam, focused the glasses upon the river. "He usually crosses rightat the mouth of the coulee--" She swung the glasses slowly about. "Oh, there he is--just on the bank. The river looks rather high--oh, your horsedoesn't want to go in, Kent. He whirls on his hind feet, and tried to boltwhen Manley started in--"

Kent had been watching her face jealously. "Here, let me take a look, willyou? I can tell--" She yielded reluctantly, and in a moment he had caughtthe focus. 

"Tell me what you see, Kent--everything, " she begged, looking anxiouslyfrom his face to the river. 

"Well, old Jake is fogging along down the coulee--but he ain't to the riveryet, not by a long shot! Ah-h! Man's riding back to take a run in. That'sthe stuff--got Michael's feet wet that time, the old freak! They came neargoing clean outa sight. "

"The sheriff--is he close enough--" Val began fearfully. "Oh, we're too faraway to do a thing!"

Kent kept his eyes to the glasses. "We couldn't do a thing if we were rightthere. Man's in swimming water already. Jake ain't riding in--from themotions he's ordering Man back. "

"Oh, please let me look a minute! I won't get excited, Kent, and I'll tellyou everything I see--_please!_" Val's teeth were fairly chattering withexcitement, so that Kent hesitated before he gave up the glasses. But itseemed boorish to refuse. She snatched at them as he took them from hiseyes, and placed them nervously to her own. 

"Oh, I see them both!" she cried, after a second or two. "The sheriff's gothis rifle in his hands--Kent, do you suppose he'd--"

"Just a bluff, pal. They all do it. What--"

Val gave a start. "Oh, he shot, Kent! I saw him take aim--it looked as ifhe pointed it straight at Manley, and the smoke--" She moved the glassesslowly, searching the river. 

"Well, he'd have to be a dandy, to hit anything on the water, and with thesun in his eyes, too, " Kent assured her, hardly taking his eyes from herface with its varying expression. Almost he could see what was taking placeat the river, just by watching her. 

"Oh, there's Manley, away out! Why, your Michael is swimming beautifully, Kent! His head is high out of the water, and the water is churninglike--Oh, Manley's holding his rifle up over his head--he's looking backtoward shore. I wonder, " she added softly, "what he's thinking about!Manley! you're my husband--and once I--"

"Draw a bead on that gazabo on shore, " Kent interrupted her faint faring upof sentiment toward the man she had once loved and loved no more. 

Val drew a long breath and turned the glasses reluctantly from thefugitive. "I don't see him--oh, yes! He's down beside a rock, on one knee, and he's taking a rest across the rock, and is squinting along--oh, hecan't hit him at that distance, can he, Kent? Would he dare--why, it wouldbe murder, wouldn't it? Oh-h--_he shot again_!"

Kent reached up a hand and took the glasses from her eyes with a masterfulgesture. "You let me look, " he said laconically. "I'm steadier than you. "

Val crept closer to him, and looked up into his face. She could readnothing there; his mouth was shut tight so that it was a stern, straightline, but that told her nothing. He always looked so when he was intentupon something, or thinking deeply. She turned her eyes toward the river, flowing smoothly across the mouth of the coulee. Between, the land laysleeping lazily in the hazy sunlight of mid-autumn. The grass was brown, the rocky outcroppings of the coulee wall yellow and gray and red--and theriver was so blue, and so quiet! Surely that sleepy coulee and that placidriver could not be witnessing a tragedy. She turned her head, irritatedby its very calmness. Her eyes dwelt wistfully upon Kent's half-concealedface. 

"What are they doing now, Kent?" Her tone was hushed. 

"I can't--exactly--" He mumbled absently, his mind a mile away. She waiteda moment. 

"Can you see--Manley?"

This time he did not answer at all; he seemed terribly far off, as if onlyhis shell of a body remained with her in the room. 

"Why don't you talk?" she wailed. She waited until she could endure nomore, then reached up and snatched the glasses from his eyes. 

"I can't help it--I shall go crazy standing here. I've just got to see!"she panted. 

For a moment he clung to the glasses and stared down at her. "You betternot, sweetheart, " he urged gently, but when she still held fast he let themgo. She raised them hurriedly to her eyes, and turned to the river with ashrinking impatience to know the worst and have it over with. 

"E-everything j-joggles so, " she whimpered complainingly, trying vainlyto steady the glasses. He slipped his arms around her, and let her leanagainst him; she did not even seem to realize it. Just then she had caughtsight of something, and her intense interest steadied her so that she stoodperfectly still. 

"Why, your horse--" she gasped. "Michael--he's got his feet straight up inthe air--oh, Kent, he's rolling over sad over! I can't see--" She held herbreath. 

The glasses sagged as if they had grown all at once too heavy to hold. "I--I thought I saw--" She shivered and hid her face upon one upflung arm. 

Kent caught up the glasses and looked long at the river, unmindful of thegirl sobbing wildly beside him. Finally he turned to her, hesitated, andthen gathered her close in his arms. The glasses slid unheeded to thefloor. 

"Don't cry--it's better this way, though it's hard enough, God knows. " Hisvoice was very gentle. "Think how awful it would have been, Val, if thelaw had got him. Don't cry like that! Such things are happening every day, somewhere--" He realized suddenly that this was no way to comfort her, andstopped. He patted her shoulder with a sense of blank helplessness. Hecould make love--but this was not the time for love-making; and since hewas denied that outlet for his feelings, he did not know what to do, exceptthat he led her to the couch, and settled her among the cushions so thatshe would be physically comfortable, at least. He turned restlessly to thewindow, looked; out, and then went to the couch and bent over her. 

"I'm going out to the gate--I want to see Jake Bondy. He's coming up thecoulee, " he said. "I won't be far. Poor little girl--poor little pal, Iwish I could help you. " He touched his lips to her hair, so lightly shecould not feel it, and left her. 

At the gate he met, not the sheriff, who was riding slowly, and had justpassed through the field gate, but Arline and Hank, rattling up in theHawley buck-board. 

"Thank the good Lord!" he exclaimed when he helped her from the rig. "Inever was so glad to see anybody in my life. Go on in--she's in therecrying her heart out. Man's dead--the sheriff shot him in the river--oh, there's been hell to pay out here!"

"My heavens above!" Arline stared up at him while she grasped thesignificance of his words. "I knowed he'd hit for here--I followed rightout as quick as Hank could hitch up the team. Did you hear about Fred--"

"Yes, yes, yes, I know all about it!" Kent was guilty of pulling herthrough the gate, and then pushing her toward the house. "You go and dosomething for that poor girl. Pack her up and take her to town as quick asGod'll let you. There's been misery enough for her out here to kill a dozenwomen. "

He watched until she had reached the porch, and then swung back to Hank, sitting calmly in the buckboard, with the lines gripped between his kneeswhile he filled his pipe. 

"I can take care of the man's side of this business, fast enough, " Kentconfessed whimsically, "but there's some things it takes a woman tohandle. " He glanced again over his shoulder, gave a huge sigh of reliefwhen he glimpsed Arline's thin face as she passed the window and kneltbeside the couch, and turned with a lighter heart to meet the sheriff.