[Illustration: (page 123) OVERLAND LIMITED!]

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OVERLAND RED

A ROMANCE OF THE MOONSTONE CAÑON TRAIL

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANTON FISCHER

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS

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COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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To I. J. K. 

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CONTENTS

 THE ROAD xi I. THE PROSPECTOR 3 II. WATER 10 III. RAGGED ROMANCE 14 IV. "ANY ROAD, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANYWHERE" 25 V. "CAN HE RIDE?" 39 VI. ADVOCATE EXTRAORDINARY 48 VII. THE GIRL WHO GLANCED BACK 60 VIII. THE TEST 72 IX. A CELESTIAL ENTERPRISE 88 X. "PERFECTLY HARMLESS LITTLE OLE TENDERFOOT" 98 XI. DESERT LAW 110 XII. "FOOL'S LUCK" 125 XIII. THE RETURN 132 XIV. "CALL IT THE 'ROSE GIRL'" 141 XV. SILENT SAUNDERS 157 XVI. BLUNDER 163 XVII. GUESTS 177 XVIII. A RED EPISODE 185 XIX. "TO CUT MY TRAIL LIKE THAT" 202 XX. THE LED HORSE 211 XXI. BORROWED PLUMES 223 XXII. THE YUMA COLT 231 XXIII. SILENT SAUNDERS SPEAKS 247 XXIV. "LIKE SUNSHINE" 254 XXV. IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 262 XXVI. SPECIAL 273 XXVII. THE RIDERS 278 XXVIII. GOPHERTOWN 288 XXIX. TOLL 299 XXX. TWO ROSES 305 XXXI. NIGHT 320 XXXII. MORNING 332 XXXIII. A SPEECH 345

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ILLUSTRATIONS

OVERLAND LIMITED! (page 123) FrontispieceTHE GIRL'S LEVEL GRAY EYES STUDIED THE TRAMP'S FACE 16"IT'S A CLEAN-UP" 296"CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?" 340

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The Road

Through the San Fernando Valley, toward the hills of Calabasas runs thatold road, El Camino Real of the early Mission days. 

And now replicas of old Mission bells, each suspended in solitarydignity from a rusted iron rod, mark intervals along the dusty way, oncea narrow trail worn by the patient feet of that gentle and great padre, Junípero Serra, --a trail from the San Gabriel Valley to the shores ofMonterey. A narrow trail then, but, even then, to him it was broad inits potential significance of the dawn of Grace upon the mountain shoresof Heaven's lost garden, California. 

Not far from one iron-posted bell in the valley, El Camino Real falters, to find, eventually, a lazy way round the low foothills, as thoughreluctant to lift its winding length over the sharp pitch of the CanajoPass, beyond. 

Near this lone bell another road, an offspring of old El Camino Real, runs quickly from its gray and patient sire. Branching south in hurriedturns and multiple windings it climbs the rolling hills, ever dodgingthe rude-piled masses of rock, with scattered brush between, but foreveraspiring courageously through the mountain sage and sunshine toward itsultimate green rest in the shadowy hills. 

In the sweet sage is the drone of bees, like the hum of a far city. Thethinning, acrid air is tinged with the faint fragrance of sunburntshrubs and grasses. 

With the sinuous avoidings of a baffled snake the road turns and turnsupon itself until its earlier promise of high adventuring seemsdoubtful. As often as not it climbs a semi-barren dun stretch ofsunbaked earth dotted with stubby cacti--passes these dwarfedgrotesques, and attempts the narrowing crest of the cañon-wall, to swingabruptly back to the cacti again, gaining but little in its upwardtrend. 

Impatient, it finally plunges dizzily round a sharp, outstanding angleof rock and down into the unexpected enchantment of Moonstone Cañon. Here the gaunt cliffs rise to great wild gardens, draped with soft roseand poignant red amid drowsy undertones of gray and green and gold. Dotsof vivid colors flame and fade and pass to ledges of dank, vineclad rockand drifts of shale, as the road climbs again. 

At the next turn are the indistinct voices of water, commingling in amonotone--and the road ceases to be, as the cool silver of a mountainstream cuts through it, with seemingly inconsequential meanderings, butwith the soft arrogance of a power too great to be denied. And theindistinct voices, left behind, fade to unimaginable sounds as thestream patters down its gravelly course, contented beyond measure withits own adventuring. 

Patiently the road takes up its way, moving in easier sweeps through awidening valley, but forever climbing. 

Again and again, fetlock deep across it runs the stream, gentlypersistent and forever murmuring its happy soliloquies. 

Here and there the road passes quickly through a blot of shade, --a groupof wide-spreading live-oaks, --and reappears, gray-white and hot in thesun. 

And then, its high ambition fulfilled, the road recovers from its lastclimbing sweep round the base of a shouldering hill and runs straightand smooth to its ultimate green rest in the shade of the sycamores. Beyond these two huge-limbed warders of the mountain ranch gate, thereis a flower-bordered _way_, but it is the road no longer. 

The mountain ranch takes its name from the cañon below. It is theMoonstone Ranch, the home of Louise, whose ancestors, the Lacharmes, grew roses in old France. 

Among the many riders to and from the ranch, there is one, a great, two-fisted, high-complexioned man, whose genial presence is everwelcome. He answers to many names. To the youngsters he is "UncleJack, "--usually with an exclamation. To some of the older folk he is"Mr. Summers, " or "Jack. " Again, the foreman of the Moonstone Ranchseldom calls him anything more dignified than "Red. " Louise doessometimes call him--quite affectionately--"Overland. "

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OVERLAND RED

CHAPTER I

THE PROSPECTOR

For five years he had journeyed back and forth between the little desertstation on the Mojave and the range to the north. The townspeople paidscant attention to him. He was simply another "desert rat" obsessed withthe idea that gold was to be found in those northern hills. He boughtsupplies and paid grudgingly. No one knew his name. 

The prospector was much younger than he appeared to be. The desert sunhad dried his sinews and warped his shoulders. The desert wind hadscrawled thin lines of age upon his face. The desert solitude hadstooped him with its awesome burden of brooding silence. 

Slowly his mind had been squeezed dry of all human interest save therecurrent memory of a child's face--that, and the poignant memory of thechild's mother. For ten years he had been trying to forget. The lastfive years on the desert had dimmed the woman's visioned face as thechild came more often between him and the memory of the mother, in hisdreams. 

Then there were voices, the voices of strange spirits that wingedthrough the dusk of the outlands and hovered round his fire at night. 

One voice, soft, insistent, ravished his imagination with visions ofillimitable power and peace and rest. "Gold! Lost gold!" it wouldwhisper as he sat by the meager flame. Then he would tremble and drawnearer the warmth. "Where?" he would ask, tempting the darkness as achild, fearfully certain of a reply. 

Then another voice, cadenced like the soft rush of waves up the sand, would murmur, "Somewhere away! Somewhere away! Somewhere away!" And inthe indefiniteness of that answer he found an inexplicable joy. Thevagueness of "Somewhere away" was as vast with pregnant possibilities ashis desert. His was the eternity of hope, boundless and splendid in itsextravagant promises. Drunk with the wine of dreams, he knew himself tobe a monarch, a monarch uncrowned and unattended, yet always with hisfeet upon the wide threshold of his kingdom. 

Then would come the biting chill of night, the manifold rays of starsand silence, silence reft of winds, yet alive with the tense immobilityof the crouching beast, waiting . . . Waiting. . . . 

The desert, impassively withering him to the shell of a man, or wrackinghim terribly in heat or in storm and cold, still cajoled him day andnight with promises, whispered, vague and intoxicating as the perfume ofa woman's hair. 

Finally the desert flung wide the secret portals of her treasure-houseand gave royally like a courtesan of kings. 

The man, his dream all but fulfilled, found the taste of awakeningbitter on his lips. He counted his years of toil and cursed as he viewedhis shrunken hands, claw-like, scarred, crippled. 

He felt the weight of his years and dreaded their accumulated burdens. He realized that the dream was all--its fulfillment nothing. He knewhimself to be a thing to be pointed at; yet he longed for the sound ofhuman voices, for the touch of human hands, for the living sweetness ofhis child's face. The sirens of the invisible night no longer whisperedto him. He was utterly alone. He had entered his kingdom. Viewed fromafar it had seemed a vast pleasure-dome of infinite enchantment. Hefound Success, as it ever shall be, a veritable desert, grudging manfoothold, yet luring him from one aspiration to another, only to consumehis years in dust. 

A narrow cañon held his secret. He had wandered into it, panned a littleblack sand, and found color. Finally he discovered the fountainhead ofthe hoarded yellow particles that spell Power. There in the fastness ofthose steep, purgatorial walls was the hermitage of the twovoices--voices that no longer whispered of hope, but left him in theutter loneliness of possession and its birthright, Fear. 

He cried aloud for the companionship of men--and glanced fearfully roundlest man had heard him call. 

He again journeyed to the town beside the railroad, bought supplies andvanished, a ragged wraith, on the horizon. 

Back in the cañon he set about his labors, finding a numbing solace intoil. 

But at night he would think of the child's face. He had said to thosewith whom he had left the child that he would return with a fortune. They knew he went away to forget. They did not expect him to return. That had been ten years ago. He had written twice. Then he had drifted, always promising the inner voice that urged him that he would find goldfor her, his child, that she might ever think kindly of him. So he triedto buy himself--with promises. Once he had been a man of his hands, aman who stood straight and faced the sun. Now the people of the deserttown eyed him askance. He heard them say he was mad--that the desert had"got him. " They were wrong. The desert and its secret was his--a sullenparamour, but _his_ nevertheless. Had she not given him of her veryheart?

He viewed his shrunken body, knew that he stooped and shuffled, realizedthat he had paid the inevitable, the inexorable price for the secret. His wine of dreams had evaporated. . . . He sifted the coarse gold betweenhis fingers, letting it fall back into the pan. Was it for _this_ thathe had wasted his soul?

 * * * * *

In the desert town men began to notice the regularity of his comings andgoings. Two or three of them foregathered in the saloon and commented onit. 

"He packed some dynamite last trip, " asserted one. 

There was a silence. The round clock behind the bar ticked loudly, ominously. 

"Then he's struck it at last, " said another. 

"Mebby, " commented the first speaker. 

The third man nodded. Then came silence again and the absolute tickingof the clock. Presently from outside in the white heat of the road camethe rush of hoofs and an abrupt stop. A spurred and booted rider, hisswarthy face gray with dust, strode in, nodded to the group and calledfor whiskey. 

"Which way did he go, Saunders?" asked one. 

"North, as usual, " said the rider. 

"Let's set down, " suggested the third man. 

They shuffled to a table. The bartender brought glasses and a bottle. Then, uninvited, he pulled up a chair and sat with them. The riderlooked at him pointedly. 

"Oh, I'm in on this, " asserted the bartender. "Daugherty is theWells-Fargo man here. He won't talk to nobody but me--about _business_. "

"What's that got to do with it?" queried the rider. 

"Just what you'd notice, Saunders. Listen! The rat left a bag of dust inthe Company's safe last trip. Daugherty says its worth mebby fivehundred. He says the rat's goin' to bring in some more. Do I come in?"

"You're on, " said the rider. "Now, see here, boys, we got to find out ifhe's filed on it yet, and what his name is, and then--"

"Mebby we'd better find out _where_ it is first, " suggested one. 

"And then jump him?" queried the rider over his glass. 

"And then jump him, " chorused the group. "He's out there alone. It'seasy. " And each poured himself a drink, for which, strangely enough, noone offered to pay, and for which the bartender evidently forgot tocollect. 

Meanwhile the prospector toiled through the drought of that summerhoarding the little yellow flakes that he washed from the gravel in thecañon. 

CHAPTER II

WATER

All round him for miles each way the water-holes had gone dry. Thelittle cañon stream still wound down its shaded course, disappearing ina patch of sand at the cañon's mouth, so the prospector felt secure. None had ridden out to look for him through that furnace of burning sandthat stretched between the hills and the desert town. 

The stream dwindled slowly, imperceptibly. 

One morning the prospector noticed it, and immediately explored thecreek clear to its source--a spurt of water springing from the roof of agrotto in the cliff. Such a supply, evidently from the rocky heart ofthe range itself, would be inexhaustible. 

A week later he awoke to find the creek-bed dry save in a fewdepressions among the rocks. He again visited the grotto. The place wasdamp and cool, glistening with beads of moisture, but the flow from theroof-crevice had ceased. Still he thought there must be plenty of waterbeneath the rocks of the stream-bed. He would dig for it. 

Another week, and he became uneasy. The stream had disappeared as thoughpoured into a colossal crevice. A few feet below the gravel he strucksolid rock. He tried dynamite unsuccessfully. Then he hoarded thedrippings from the grotto crevice till he had filled his canteen. Carefully he stowed his gold in a chamois pouch and prepared to leavethe cañon. His burro had strayed during the week of drought--wasprobably dead beside some dry water-hole. 

The prospector set out to cross the range in the light of the stars. 

Fearful that he might be seen, panic warped his reasoning. He planned tojourney south along the foothills, until opposite the desert town andthen cross over to it. If he approached from such a direction, no onewould guess his original starting-place. He knew of an unfailingwater-hole two days' journey from the cañon. This water-hole was far outof his way, but his canteen supply would more than last till he reachedit. 

Then Fate, the fate that had dogged his every step since first heventured into the solitudes, closed up and crept at his heels. He becamemore morose and strangely fearful. His vision, refined by the wasting ofhis body, created shadows that lay about his feet like stagnant pools, shadows where no shadows should be. 

Ominous was his fall as he crossed an arroyo. The canteen, slung overhis shoulder, struck a sharp point of rock that started one of theseams. The leak was infinitesimal. The felt cover of the canteenabsorbed the drip, which evaporated. When he arrived at the water-hole, _that_ was dry. His canteen felt strangely light. He could not rememberhaving used so much water. He changed his plan. He struck straight fromthe hills toward the railroad. He knew that eventually he would, as hejourneyed west, cross it, perhaps near a water-tank. 

Toward the blinding afternoon of that day he saw strange lakes and poolsspread out upon the distant sand and inverted mountain ranges stretchingto the horizon. 

Fate crept closer to his heels, waiting with the dumb patience of thedesert to claim the struggling, impotent puppet whose little day was allbut spent. 

He stumbled across the blazing bars of steel that marked the railroad. His empty canteen clattered on the ties as he fell. He got to his kneesand dragged himself from the track. He laughed, for he had thwarted Fatethis once; he would not be run over by the train. He lay limp, wasted, scarcely breathing. 

Serenely Fate crouched near him, patient, impassive. . . . 

He heard a man speak and another answer. He felt an arm beneath hishead, and water. . . . Water!

He drank, and all at once his strength flamed up. It was not water theygave him; it was merely the taste of it--a mockery. He wanted more . . . All!

He lurched to his feet, struggling with a bearded giant that held himfrom his desire--to drink until he could drink no more--to die drinkingthe water they had taken from him even as they gave it. He foughtblindly. Fate, disdaining further patience, arose and flung itself abouthis feet. He stumbled. A flash wiped all things from his vision and thelong night came swiftly. 

CHAPTER III

RAGGED ROMANCE

At the wide gate of the mountain ranch stood the girl. Her blacksaddle-pony Boyar fretted to be away. Glancing back through thecavernous shade of the live-oaks, the girl hesitated before opening thegate. A little breeze, wayfaring through Moonstone Cañon and on up tothe mountain ranch, touched the girl's cheek and she breathed deeply ofits cool fragrance. 

The wide gate swung open, and Louise Lacharme, curbing Black Boyar, rodeout of the shadows into the hot light of the morning, singing as sherode. 

Against the soft gray of the cañon wall flamed a crimson flower like apomegranate bud. Across the road ran the cool mountain stream. Away andaway toward the empty sky the ragged edges of the cliffs were etchedsharply upon the blue. 

The road ran swiftly round the eastern wall of the cañon. Louise, asfragrantly bright as morning sunshine on golden flowers, laughed as thepony's lithe bound tore the silver of the ford to swirling beads andblade-like flashes. 

On the rise beyond, the girl drew rein at the beginning of the OldMeadow Trail, a hidden trail that led to a mountain meadow of ripegrasses, groups of trees, and the enchantment of seclusion. 

The pony shouldered through the breast-high greasewood and picked hissteps along the edge of the hill. The twigs and branches lisped andclattered against the carved leather tapaderos that hooded the stirrups. The warm sun awoke the wild fragrance of sage and mountain soil. Littlelizards of the stones raced from Black Boyar's tread, becoming rigid onthe sides of rocks, clinging at odd angles with heads slanted, likedelicate Orient carvings in dull brass. 

The girl's eyes, the color of sea-water in the sun, were leveled towardthe distant hills across the San Fernando Valley. From her fingersdangled the long bridle-reins. Her lips were gently parted. Her gaze wasthe gaze of one who dreams in the daylight. And close in the hiddenmeadow crouched Romance, Romance ragged, unkempt, jocular. . . . 

Boyar first scented the wood-smoke. Louise noticed his forward-standingears and his fidgeting. Immediately before her was the low rounded rock, a throne of dreams that she had graced before. From down the slope andalmost hidden by the bulk of the rock, a little wand of smoke stood upin the windless air, to break at last into tiny shreds and curls ofnothingness. 

"It can't be much of a fire yet!" exclaimed Louise, forever watchful, asare all the hill-folk, for that dread, ungovernable red monster ofdestruction, a mountain fire. "It can't be much of a fire _yet_. "

The pony Boyar, delicately scenting something more than wood-smoke, snorted and swerved. Louise dismounted and stepped hurriedly round theshoulder of the rock. A bristle-bearded face confronted her. "No, itain't much of a fire yet, but our hired girl she joined a movin'-pictureoutfit, so us two he-things are doin' the best we can chasin' abreakfast. " And the tramp, Overland Red, ragged, unkempt, jocular, rosefrom his knees beside a tiny blaze. He pulled a bleak flop of felt fromhis tangled hair in an over-accentuated bow of welcome. 

"We offer you the freedom of the city, ma'am. Welcome to our midst, andkindly excuse appearances this morning. Our trunks got delayed in NewYork. "

Unsmilingly the girl's level gray eyes studied the tramp's face. Thenher glance swept him swiftly from bared head to rundown heel. "I wasjust making up my mind whether I'd stay and talk with you, or ask you toput out your fire and go somewhere else. But I think you are all right. Please put on your hat. "

[Illustration: THE GIRL'S LEVEL GRAY EYES STUDIED THE TRAMP'S FACE]

Overland Red's self-assurance shrunk a little. The girl's eyes weredirect and fearless, yet not altogether unfriendly. He thought that deepwithin them dwelt a smile. 

"You got my map all right, " he said, a trifle more respectfully. "'Course we'll douse the fire when we duck out of here. But what do youthink of Collie here, my pal? Is he all right?"

"Oh, he's only a boy, " said Louise, glancing casually at the youthcrouched above the fire. 

The boy, a slim lad of sixteen or thereabout, flushed beneath thebattered brim of his black felt hat. He watched the tomato-cancoffee-pot intently. Louise could not see his face. 

"Yes, Miss. _I'm_ all right and so is he. " And a humorous wistfulnesscrept into the tramp's eyes. "He's what you might call a changeling. "

"Changeling?"

"Uhuh! Always changin' around from place to place--when you're young. Ain't that it?"

"Oh! And when you are older?" she queried, smiling. 

Overland Red frowned. "Oh, then you're just a tramp, a Willie, a Bo, aHobo. "

He saw the girl's eyes harden a little. He spoke quickly, and, sheimagined, truthfully. "I worked ten years for one outfit once, withouta change. And I never knowed what it was to do a day's work out of thesaddle. You know what that means. "

"Cattle? Mexico?"

Overland Red grinned. "Say! You was born in California, wasn't you?"

"Yes, of course. "

"'Cause Mexico has been about the only place a puncher could work thatlong without doin' day labor on foot half the year. Yes, I been there. 'Course, now, I'm doin' high finance, and givin' advice to the young, and livin' on my income. And say, when it comes to real brain work, I'mthe Most Exhausted Baked High Potentate, but I wouldn't do no minerallabor for nobody. If I can't work in the saddle, I don't work--that'sall. "

"Mineral labor? What, mining?" asked Louise. 

"No, not mining. Jest mineral labor like Japs, or section-hands, orcoachmen with bugs on their hats. Ain't the papers always speakin' ofthat kind as minerals?"

"Don't you mean menials?"

"Well, yes. It's all the same, anyway. I never do no hair-splittin' onwords. Bein' a pote myself, it ain't necessary. "

"A--a poet! Really?"

"Really and truly, and carry one and add five. I've roped a lot ofpo'try in my time, Miss. Say, are we campin' on your land?"

"No. This is government land, from here to our line up above--theMoonstone Rancho. "

"The Moonstone Rancho?" queried Overland Red, breaking a twig andfeeding the fire. 

"Yes. It's named after the cañon. But don't let me keep you frombreakfast. "

"Breakfast, eh? That's right! I almost forgot it, talkin' to you. Collie's got the coffee to boilin'. No, _you_ ain't keepin' us from ourbreakfast any that you'd notice. It would take a whole reg'ment ofRurales to keep us from a breakfast if we seen one runnin' around loosewithout its pa or ma. "

Louise Lacharme did not smile. This was too real. Here was adventurewith no raconteur's glamour, no bookish gloss. Here was Romance. Romanceunshaven, illiterate, with its coat off making coffee in asmoke-blackened tomato-can, but Romance nevertheless. That this romanceshould touch her life, Louise had not the faintest dream. She wasalone . . . But, pshaw! Boyar was grazing near, and besides, she was notreally afraid of the men. She thought she rather liked them, or, moreparticularly, the boisterous one who had said his name was Overland Red. 

The tramp gazed at her a moment before he lifted the tomato-can from theembers. "We know you won't join us, but we're goin' to give you theinvite just the same. And we mean it. Ma'am, if you'll be so kind as todraw up your chair, us gents'll eat. "

"Thank you!" said Louise, and Overland's face brightened at thegood-fellowship in her voice. "Thank you both, but I've had breakfast. "

She gazed at the solitary, bubbling, tomato-can coffee-pot of"second-edition" coffee. There was nothing else to grace the board, orrather rock. "I'll be right back, " she said. "I'll just take off Boyar'sbridle. Here, Boy!" she called. "You'll be able to eat better. "

And she ran to the pony. From a saddle-pocket she took her own lunch ofsandwiches and ripe olives wrapped in oiled paper. She delayed herreturn to loosen the forward cincha of the saddle and to find the littlestock of cigarette-papers and tobacco that she carried for any chancerider of the Moonstone who might be without them. 

Collie, the boy tramp, glanced up at Overland Red. "I guess she's gone, "he said regretfully. 

"You're nutty, Collie. She ain't the kind to sneak off after sayin'she's comin' back. I know a hoss and a real woman when I see 'em. I wasraised in the West, myself. "

The boy Collie was young, sensitive, and he had not been "raised in theWest. " He frowned. "Yes, you was raised in the West, and what you got toshow for it?"

"Well, hear the kid!" exclaimed Overland. "Out of the mouth of babes andsaplings! What have I got to show? What have I--! Wha--? Oh, you gochase a snake! I know a good hoss and a good woman when I see 'em, and Iseen both together this morning. "

"But what do _she_ want with us bos?" asked the boy. 

"S-s-h-h! Why, she's interested in me romantic past, of course. Ain't Ithe 'cute little gopher when it comes to the ladies? Fan me, Collie, andslow music and a beer for one. I'm some lady's-man, sister!"

"You're a bo, the same as me, " said the boy. 

"S-s-h-h! For the love of Pete, don't you handle that word 'bo' socareless. It's loaded. It has a jarrin' effect on earsunattenuated--er--meanin' ears that ain't keyed up to it, as the potesays. She's comin' back. Fold your napkin. Don't look so blame hungry!Ain't you got any style?"

"She's the prettiest girl I ever seen, " said the boy, hastily swallowinghis share of the hot, insipid coffee. 

"Pretty?" whispered Overland, as Louise approached. "She's thoroughbred. Did you see them eyes? Afraid of nothin', and smilin' at what might dastto scare her. Not foolish, either. She's wise. And she's kind andlaughin', and not ashamed to talk to us. That's thoroughbred. "

Round the rock came Louise, the neat package of sandwiches in one hand. In the other was the tobacco and cigarette-papers. "I'm going to have myluncheon, " she said. "If you won't object, I'll take a sandwich. There, I have mine. The rest are for you. "

"We had our breakfast, " said Overland quickly, "when you was talkin' toyour pony. "

Louise glanced at the empty tomato-can. "Well, I'll excuse you for notwaiting for me, but I shall not excuse you from having luncheon with me. I made these sandwiches myself. Have one. They're really good. "

"Oh!" groaned Overland, grimacing. "If I could curry up my languagesmooth, like that, I--I guess I'd get deaf listenin' to myself talk. Yousaid that speech like takin' two turns round the bandstand tryin' tocatch yourself, and then climbin' a post and steppin' on your ownshoulders so you could see the parade down the street. Do you get that?"And he sighed heavily. "Say! These here sandwiches is great!"

"Will you have one?" asked Louise, gracefully proffering the olives. 

"Seein' it's you. Thanks. I always take two. The second one for a chaserto kill the taste of the first. It's the only way to eat 'em--if youknow where to stop. They do taste like somethin' you done and are sorryfor afterwards, don't they?"

"Were you ever sorry for anything?" asked the boy, feeling a littlepiqued that he had been left out of the conversation. 

"I was raised in the West, myself, " growled the tramp, scowling. "Butthat's a good pony you got, Miss. That your saddle too?"

"Yes. "

"You rope any?"

"A little. How did you know?"

"Rawhide cover to the saddle-horn is wore with a rope, " said Overland, helping himself to a second sandwich. 

Then the tramp and the girl, oblivious to everything else, discussedrawhide riatas as compared with the regular three-strand stock rope, orlariat, --center-fire, three quarter, and double rigs, swell forks andold Visalia trees, spade bits and "U" curbs, --neither willing, evenlightly, to admit the other's superiority of chosen rig. 

The boy Collie listened intently and a trifle jealously. Overland Redand the girl had found a common ground of interest that excluded himutterly. The boy itched for an excuse to make the girl speak to him, even look at him. 

The sandwiches gone, Louise proffered Overland tobacco and papers. Actual tears stood in the ex-cowboy's eyes. "Smoke! Me?" he exclaimed. "I was dyin' for it. I'd do time for you!"

Then in that boyish spirit that never quite leaves the range-rider, Overland Red took the tobacco and papers and cleverly rolled a cigarettewith one hand. In the other he held his battered felt hat. His eyes hada far-away look as he reached forward and lighted his cigarette at thefire. "I was settin' on a crazy bronc', holdin' his head up so hecouldn't go to buckin'--outside a little old adobe down in Yuma, Arizona, then, " he explained, glancing at the girl. "Did you ever driftaway complete, like that, jest from some little old trick to make youdream?"

CHAPTER IV

"ANY ROAD, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANYWHERE"

The boy Collie took the empty tomato-can and went for water with whichto put out the fire. 

Louise and Overland Red gazed silently at the youthful figure crossingthe meadow. The same thought was in both their hearts--that the boy'schance in life was still ahead of him. Something of this was in thegirl's level gray eyes as she asked, "Why did you come up here, so farfrom the town and the railroad?"

"We generally don't, " replied Overland Red. "We ain't broke. Collie'sgot some money. We got out of grub from comin' up here. We come up tosee the scenery. I ain't kiddin'; we sure did! 'Course, speakin' ingeneral, a free lunch looks better to me any day than the Yosemite--butthat's because I need the lunch. You got to be fed up to it to enjoyscenery. Now, on the road we're lookin' at lots of it every day, but weain't seein' much. But give me a good feed and turn me loose in the BigShow Pasture where the Bridal Veil is weepin' jealous of the CathedralSpires, and the Big Trees is too big to be jealous of anything, whereAdam would 'a' felt old the day he was born--jest take off my hobblesand turn me out to graze _there_, and _feed_, and say, lady, I scorn theidea of doin' _any_thing but decomposin' my feelin's and smokin' andwritin' po'try. I been there! There's where I writ the song called 'BeatIt, Bo. ' Mebby you heard of it. "

"No, I should like to hear it. "

The fire steamed and spluttered as Collie extinguished it. Overland Redhanded the tobacco and papers to him. 

"About comin' up this here trail?" he resumed as the boy stretchedbeside them on the warm earth. "Well, Miss, it was four years ago that Ipicked up Collie here at Albuquerque. His pa died sudden and left thekid to find out what a hard map this ole world is. We been across, fromFrisco to New York, twice since then, and from Seattle to San Diego onthe side, and 'most everywhere in California, it bein' my native Stateand the best of the lot. You see, Collie, he's gettin' what you mightcall a liberated education, full of big ideas--no dinky stuff. Yes, Ipicked him up at Albuquerque, a half-starved, skinny little cuss thatwas cryin' and beggin' me to get him out of there. "

"Albuquerque?" queried Louise. 

"Uhuh. Later, comin' acrost the Mojave, we got thrun off a freight bymistake for a couple of sewin'-machines that we was ridin' with toBarstow, so the tickets on the crates said. That was near Daggett, by awater-tank. It was hotter than settin' on a stove in Death Valley at 12o'clock Sunday noon. We beat it for the next town, afoot. Colliecommenced to give out. He was pretty tender and not strong. I lugged himsome and he walked some. He was talkin' of green grass and cucumbers inthe ice-box and ice-cream and home and the Maumee River, and a whole lotof things you can't find in the desert. Well, I got him to his feet nextmornin'. We had some trouble, and was detained a spell in Barstow afterthat. They couldn't prove nothin', so they let us go. Then Collie got totalkin' again about a California road that wiggled up a hill and througha cañon, and had one of these here ole Mission bells where it lit offfor the sky-ranch. Funny, for he was never in California then. Mebby itwas the old post-card he got at Albuquerque. You see his pa bought itfor him 'cause he wanted it. He was only a kid then. Collie, he saysit's the only thing his pa ever did buy for him, and so he kept it tillit was about wore out from lookin' at it. But considerin' how his paacted, I guess that was about all Collie needed to remember him by. Anyhow, he dreamed of that road, and told me so much about it that Igot to lookin' for it too. I knowed of the old El Camino Real and thebells, so we kept our eye peeled for that particular dream road, kind offor fun. We found her yesterday. "

"What, this? The road to our ranch?"

"Uhuh. Collie, he said so the minute we got in that cañon, MoonstoneCañon, you said. We're restin' up and enjoyin' the scenery. We need therest, for only last week we resigned from doin' a stunt in amovin'-picture outfit. They wanted somebody to do native sons. We saidwe didn't have them kind of clothes, but the foreman of the outfit sayswe'd do fine jest as we was. It was fierce--and, believe me, lady, Ibeen through some! I been through some!

"They was two others in checker clothes and dip-lid caps, and they_wasn't_ native sons. They acted like sons of--I'd hate to tell youwhat, Miss--to the chief dollie in the show. They stole her beau andtied him to the S. P. Tracks; kind of loose, though. She didn't seem tocare. She jest stood around chewin' gum and rollin' her lamps at thehead guy. Then the movin'-picture express, which was a retiredswitch-engine hooked onto a Swede observation car, backs down onAdolphus, and we was to rush up like--pretty fast, and save his life. 

"She was a sassy little chicken with blond feathers and a three-quarterrig skirt. She had a regular strawberry-ice-cream-soda complexion, andher eyes looked like a couple of glass alleys with electric lights in'em. I wondered if she took 'em out at night to go to sleep or onlyswitched off the current. Anyhow, up she rides in a big reddish kind ofautomobile and twists her hands round her wrists and looks up the trackand down the track and sees us and says, 'Oh, w'ich way has he went?W'ich way did Disgustus Adolphus beat it to?' And chewin' gum right ontop of that, too. It was tough on us, Miss, but we needed the money. 

"'Bout the eighteenth time she comes coughin' up in that old one-lungmachine, --to get her expression right, so the boss kept hollerin', --why, I gets sick and tired. If there's anything _doin_', why, I'm game, butsuch monkeyin'! There was that picture-machine idiot workin' the crankas if he was shellin' a thicket-full of Injuns with a Gatling, and hisfool cap turned round with the lid down the back of his neck, and me andCollie, the only sensible-actin' ones of the lot, because we was actin'natural, jest restin'. I got sick and tired. The next time up coughsthat crippled-up automobile with the mumps on its front tire, and shesays, 'Where, oh, where has he went?' I ups and says, 'Crazy, Miss, andcan you blame him?'

"She didn't see no joke in that, so the boss he fired us. He wasn'tgoin' to pay us at that, but I picks up the little picture-machine boxand I swings her up over the track kind of suggestive like. 'One!' saidI. 'Do we get our money?'

"'Drop that machine!' says he, rushin' up to me. 

"'I'm a-goin' to, ' says I, 'good and hard. Think again, while I count. Do we get our money?'

"'You get pinched!' says he. 

"'Two, ' says I, and I swings the box up by the legs. 

"'Hole on!' yells the boss. 'Pay the mutt, Jimmy, and, for Gord sake, get that machine before he ruins the best reel we made yet!'

"We got paid. "

"But the bell and Moonstone Cañon?" questioned Louise, glancing back atBoyar grazing down the meadow. 

"Sure! Well, we flopped near here that night--"

"Flopped?"

"Uhuh. Let's see, you ain't hep to that, are you? Why, we crawled to thehay, hit the feathers, pounded our ear--er--went to bed! That's what itused to be. Well, in the morning, me and Collie got some sardines andcrackers to the store and a little coffee. It was goin' over there thatwe seen the bell and the road and the whole works. I got kind ofinterested myself in that cañon. I never saw so many moonstones layin'right on top the gravel, and I been in Mex. , too. We liked it and westayed over last night, expectin' to be gone by now. "

"And when you leave here?" queried Louise. 

"Same old thing, " replied Overland cheerfully. "I know the ropes. Collieworks by spells. Oh, we're livin', and that's all you need to do inCalifornia. "

"And that is all--now that you have found the road?"

"Oh, the road is like all of them dreams, " said Overland. "Such thingsare good for keepin' people interested in somethin' till it's done, that's all. It was fun at first, lookin' up every arroyo and slit in thehills, till we found it. Same as them marriages on the desert, afterthat. "

"Marriages?"

"Uhuh. Seein' water what ain't there, like. "

"Oh, mirages!" And Louise laughed joyfully. 

"I don't see no joke, " said Overland, aggrieved. 

"I really beg your pardon. "

"That's all right, Miss. But what would you call it?"

"Oh, an illusion, a mirage, something that seems to be, but that isnot. "

"I don't see where it's got anything on marriages, then, do you? But Iain't generally peppermistic. I believe in folks and things, althoughI'm old enough to know better. "

"I'm glad you believe in folks, " said Louise. "So do I. "

"It's account of bein' a pote, I guess, " sighed the tramp. "'Course Iain't a professional. They got to have a license. I never took out one, not havin' the money. Anyway, if I did have enough money for a regularlicense, I'd start a saloon and live respectable. "

"Won't you quote something?" And the girl smiled bewitchingly. "Boyarand I must go soon. It's getting hot. "

"I'm mighty sorry you're goin', Miss. You're real California stock. Knowed it the minute I set eyes on you. Besides, you passed us thesmokes. "

"Red, you shut up!"

Overland turned a blue, astonished eye on Collie. "Why, kiddo, what'sbitin' _you_?"

"Because the lady give us the makings don't say _she_ smokes, does it?"

Overland grunted. "Because you're foolish with the heat, don't say I am, does it? Them sandwiches has gone to your head, Chico. Who said she didsmoke?"

Louise, grave-eyed, watched the two men, Overland sullen and scowling, Collie fierce and flaming. 

"We ain't used to--to real ladies, " apologized Overland. "We could dobetter if we practiced up. "

"Of course!" said Louise, smiling. "But the poetry. "

"U-m-m, yes. The po'try. What'll I give her, Collie?"

"I don't care, " replied the boy. "You might try 'Casey Jones. ' It'sbetter'n anything _you_ ever wrote. "

"That? I guess not! That ain't her style. I mean one of my_own_--somethin' _good_. "

"Oh, I don't know. 'Toledo Blake, '" mumbled Collie. 

"Nope! But I guess the 'Grand Old Privilege' will do for a starter. "

"Oh, good!" And Louise clapped her hands. "The title is splendid. Is thepoem original?"

The tramp bowed a trifle haughtily. "Original? Me life's work, lady. "And he awkwardly essayed to button a buttonless coat, coughed, waved hishalf-consumed cigarette toward the skies, and began:--

 "Folks say we got no morals--that they all fell in the soup; And no conscience--so the would-be goodies say; And I guess our good intentions _did_ jest up and flew the coop, While we stood around and watched 'em fade away. 

 "But there's one thing that we're lovin' more than money, grub, or booze, Or even decent folks that speaks us fair; And that's the Grand Old Privilege to chuck our luck and choose, _Any_ road at _any_ time for _any_ where. "

And Overland, his hand above his heart, bowed effusively. 

"I like 'would-be goodies, '" said Louise. "Sounds just like a mussy, sticky cookie that's too sweet. And 'Any road at any time for anywhere--' I think that is real. "

Overland puffed his chest and cleared his throat. "I can't help it, Miss. Born that way. Cut my first tooth on a book of pomes ma got for apremium with Mustang Liniment. "

"Well, thank you. " And Louise nodded gayly. "Keep the tobacco and papersto remember me by. I must go. "

"We don't need them to remember you by, " said Overland gallantly. Thenthe smile suddenly left his face. 

Down the Old Meadow Trail, unseen by the girl and the boy, rode a singlehorseman, and something at his hip glinted in the sun. Overland's handwent to his own hip. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and slowlyrecovered himself. "What's the use?" he muttered. 

But there was that in his tone which brought Collie's head up. The ladpushed back his battered felt hat and ran his fingers through his wavyblack hair, perplexedly. "What's the matter, Red? What's the matter?"

"Nothin'. Jest thinkin'. " Yet the tramp's eyes narrowed as he glancedfurtively past the girl to where Boyar, the black pony, grazed in themeadow. 

Louise, puzzled by something familiar in the boy's upturned, questioningface, raised one gauntleted hand to her lips. "Why, you're the boy Isaw, out on the desert, two years ago. Weren't you lying by a water-tankwhen our train stopped and a man was kneeling beside you pouring wateron your face? Aren't you that boy?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Collie, getting to his feet. "Red told me about _you_, too. "

"Yes, it's her, " muttered Overland, nodding to himself. 

"And you chucked a rose out of the window to us?" said the boy. "Overland said _she_ did. "

"Yes. It's her, the Rose-Lady Girl, " said Overland. "Some of the folksin the train laughed when I picked up the rose. I remember. Some oneelse says, 'They're only tramps. ' I recollect that, too. "

"But those men were arrested at Barstow, for murder, Uncle Walter said. "

Again Overland Red nodded. "They was, Miss. But they couldn't provenothin', so they let us go. "

"We always was goin' to say thanks to the girl with the rose if we everseen her, " said the boy Collie. "We ain't had such a lot of roses giveto us. "

"So we says it now, " said Overland quickly. "Or mebby we wouldn't neverhave another chance. " Then he slowly rolled another cigarette. 

Just then the black pony Boyar nickered. He recognized a friend enteringthe meadow. 

Overland lighted his cigarette. As he straightened up, Louise wassurprised to see him thrust both hands above his head while he continuedsmoking placidly. "Excuse me, Miss, " he said, turning the cigaretteround with his lips; "but the gent behind you with the gun has got thedrop on me. I guess he's waitin' for you to step out of range. "

Louise turned swiftly. Dick Tenlow, deputy sheriff, nodded good-morningto her, but kept his gun trained on the tramp. 

"Just step out from behind that rock, " said Tenlow, addressingOverland. 

"Don't know as I will, " replied the tramp. "You're no gentleman; youdidn't say 'please. '"

"Come on! No bluff like that goes here, " said the deputy. 

"Can't you see I ain't finished smokin' yet?" queried Overland. 

"Come on! Step along!"

"No way to address a gent, you Johnny. Say, I'll tell you _now_ beforeyou fall down and shoot yourself. Do you think you got me because yourode up while I was talkin' to a lady, and butted into politeconversation like a drunk Swede at a dance? Say, you think I'd 'a' everlet you got this far if there hadn't been a lady present? Why, youlittle nickle-plated, rubber-eared policeman, I was doin' the doubleroll with a pair of Colts . 45's when you was learnin' the taste ofmilk!"

"That'll be about all for _you_, " said the sheriff, grinning. 

"No, it ain't. You ain't takin' me serious, and there's where you'remakin' your mistake. I'm touchy about some things, Mr. Pussy-foot. Icould 'a' got you three times while you was ridin' down that trail, andI wouldn't 'a' had to stop talkin' to do it. And you with that littleold gun out before you even seen me!"

"Why didn't you, then?" asked Tenlow, restraining his anger; for Louise, in spite of herself, had smiled at Overland's somewhat picturesqueresentment. "Why didn't you, then?"

"Huh!" snorted Overland scornfully. "Do you suppose I'd start anythingwith a _lady_ around? That ain't my style. You're a kid. You'll get hurtsome day. "

Deputy Tenlow scowled. He was a big man, slow of tongue, ordinarilygenial, and proverbially stupid. He knew the tramp was endeavoring toanger him. The deputy turned to Louise. "Sorry, Miss Lacharme, but I gotto take him. "

"There's really nothing to hinder, is there?" Louise asked sweetly. 

CHAPTER V

"CAN HE RIDE?"

The tramp glanced up, addressing the deputy. "Yes, even now there issomething to hinder, if I was to get busy. " Then he coolly dropped hisarms and leaned against the rock with one leg crossed before the otherin a manner sometimes supposed to reflect social ease and elegance. "ButI'm game to take what's comin'. If you'll just stick me up and extractthe . 38 automatic I'm packin' on my hip, --and, believe me, she's a badGat. When she's in action, --why, I'll feel lots better. The little gunmight get to shootin' by herself, and then somebody would get hurt sure. You see, I'm givin' you all the chance you want to take me withoutgettin' mussed up. I'm nervous about firearms, anyhow. "

Deputy Dick Tenlow advanced and secured the gun. 

"Now, " said Overland Red, heaving a sigh; "now, I ain't ashamed to looka gun in the face. You see, Miss, " he added, turning to address thegirl, "I was sheriff of Abilene once, in the ole red-eye, rumpus days. Ihave planted some citizens in my time. You see, I kind of owe the onesI did plant a silent apology for lettin' this here chicken-rancher getme so easy. "

"You talk big, " said Tenlow, laughing. "Who was you when you was sheriffof Abilene, eh?"

"Jack Summers, sometimes called Red Jack Summers, " replied Overlandquietly, and he looked the deputy in the eye. 

"Jack Summers!"

Overland nodded. "Take it or leave it. You'll find out some day. And nowyou got some excuse for packin' a gun round these here peaceful hillsand valleys the rest of your life. You took Jack Summers, and thereain't goin' to be a funeral. "

Something about the tramp's manner inclined the deputy to believe thathe had spoken truth. "All right, " said Tenlow; "just step ahead. Don'ttry the brush or I'll drop you. "

"'Course you would, " said Overland, stepping ahead of the deputy's pony. "But the bunch you're takin' orders from don't want me dead; they wantme alive. I ain't no good all shot up. You ought to know that. "

"I know there's a thousand dollars reward for you. I need the money. "

Overland Red grinned. "It's against me morals to bet--with kids. ButI'll put up that little automatic you frisked off me, against thethousand you expect to get, that you don't even get a long-range smellof that money. Are you on?"

Tenlow motioned the other to step ahead. 

"I'm bettin' my little gun to a thousand dollars less than nothin'. Ain't you game? I'm givin' you the long end. "

"Never mind, " growled Tenlow. "You can talk later. "

The boy Collie, recovering from his surprise at the arrest, stepped upto the sheriff. "Where do I come in?" he asked. "You can't pinch Redwithout me. I was with him that time the guy croaked out on the Mojave. Red didn't kill him. They let us go once. What you doin' pinchin' usagain? How do _you_ know--"

"Hold on, Collie; don't get careless, " said Overland. "He don't knownothin'. He's followin' orders. The game's up. "

Louise whistled Boyar to her and bridled him. The little group aheadseemed to be waiting for her. She led the pony toward the trail. "Did hedo it?" she asked as she caught up with Collie. 

"No, " he muttered. "Red's the squarest pal on earth. Red tried to savethe guy--out there on the desert. Gave him all the water we had, prettynear. He dassent to give him all, for because he was afraid it wouldkill him. The guy fell and hit his head on the rail. Red said he wasdyin' on his feet, anyway. Then Red lugged me clean to that tank whereyou seen us from the train. I was all in. I guess Red saved my life. Hedidn't tell you that. "

"Is he--was he really a cowboy? Can he ride?" asked Louise. 

"Can he ride? Say, I seen him ride Cyclone once and get first money forridin' the worst buckin' bronc' at the rodeo, over to Tucson. Well, Iguess!"

"Boyar, my pony, is the fastest pony in the hills, " said Louisepensively. 

"What you givin' us?" said the boy, glancing at her sharply. 

"Nothing. I was merely imagining something. "

"Red's square, " asserted the boy. 

"Sheriff Tenlow is a splendid shot, " murmured Louise, with apparentirrelevance. 

They had crossed the meadow. Ahead of the sheriff walked Overland, hisslouch gone, his head carried high. Collie noted this unusual alertnessof poise and wondered. 

"Don't try the brush, " cautioned Tenlow, also aware of Overland'salertness. 

"When I leave here, I'll ride. Sabe?" And Overland stepped briskly tothe trail, turning his back squarely on the alert and puzzled sheriff. 

"He's been raised in these hills, " muttered the tramp. "He knows thetrails. I don't. But--I'd like to show that little Rose-Lady Girl somereal ridin' once. She's a sport. I'd ride into hell and rake out thefire for her. . . . I hate to--to do it--but I guess I got to. "

"Step up there, " said Tenlow. "What you talkin' about, anyhow?"

"Angels, " replied Overland. "I see 'em once in a while. " And he glancedback. He saw Collie talking to the girl, who stood by her pony, thereins dangling lightly from her outstretched hand. 

"Snake!" screamed Overland Red, leaping backward and flinging up hisarms, directly in the face of the deputy's pony. The horse reared. Overland, crouching, sprang under its belly, striking it as he went. Again the pony reared, nearly throwing the deputy. 

"Overland Limited!" shouted the tramp, dashing toward Boyar. With aspring he was in the saddle and had slipped the quirt from thesaddle-horn to his wrist. He would need that quirt, as he had no spurs. 

Round swung Tenlow, cursing. Black Boyar shot across the meadow, thequirt falling at each jump. The tramp glanced back. Tenlow's right handwent up and his gun roared once, twice. . . . 

The boy Collie, white and gasping, threw himself in front of Tenlow'shorse. The deputy spurred the pony over him and swept down the meadow. 

Louise, angered in that the boy had snatched Boyar's reins from her asOverland shouted, relented as she saw the instant bravery in the lad'sendeavor to stop Tenlow's horse. She stooped over him. He rose stiffly. 

"Oh! I thought you were hurt!" she exclaimed. 

"Nope! I guess not. I was scared, I guess. Let's watch 'em, Miss!" Andforgetful of his bruised and shaken body, he limped to the edge of themeadow, followed by Louise. "There they go!" he cried. "Red's 'wayahead. The sheriff gent can't shoot again--he's too busy ridin'. "

"Boyar! Boyar! Good horse! Good horse!" cried the girl as the black ponyflashed across the steep slope of the ragged mountain side like a wingedthing. "Boyar! Boy!"

She shivered as the loose shale, ploughed by the pony's flying hoofs, slithered down the slope at every plunge. 

"Can he ride?" shouted Collie, wild tears of joy in his eyes. 

Suddenly Overland, glancing back, saw Tenlow stop and raise his arm. Thetramp cowboy swung Black Boyar half-round, and driving his unspurredheels into the pony's ribs, put him straight down the terrific slope ofthe mountain at a run. 

Tenlow's gun cracked. A spray of dust rose instantly ahead of Boyar. 

"Look! Look!" cried Louise. The deputy, angered out of his usualjudgment, spurred his horse directly down the footless shale that thetramp had ridden across diagonally. "Look! He can't--The horse--! Oh!"she groaned as Tenlow's pony stumbled and all but pitched headlong. "Theother man--knew better than that--" she gasped, turning to the boy. "Hewaited--till he struck rock and brush before he turned Boyar. "

"Can he ride?" shouted Collie, grinning. But the grin died to a gasp. Aburst of shale and dust shot up from the hillside. They saw the flash ofthe cinchas on the belly of Tenlow's horse as the dauntless ponystumbled and dove headlong down the slope, rolling over and over, tostop finally--a patch of brown, shapeless, quivering. 

Below, Overland Red had curbed Boyar and was gazing up at a spot ofblack on the hillside--Dick Tenlow, motionless, silent. His sombrero layseveral yards down the slope. 

"Oh! The horse!" cried Louise, chokingly, with her hand to her breast. 

As for Dick Tenlow, lying halfway down the hillside, stunned andshattered, she had but a secondary sympathy. He had sacrificed a gallantand willing beast to his anger. The tramp, riding a strange pony overdesperately perilous and unfamiliar ground, had used judgment. "Yourfriend is a man!" she said, turning to the boy. "But Dick Tenlow ishurt--perhaps killed. He went under the horse when it fell. "

"I guess it's up to us to see if the sheriff gent is done for, at that, "said the boy. "Mebby we can do something. "

"You'll get arrested, now, " said the girl. "If Dick Tenlow is alive, you'll have to go for help. If he isn't. . . . "

"I'll go, all right. I ain't afraid. I didn't do anything. I guess I'llstick around till Red shows up again, anyhow. "

"You're a stranger here. I should go as soon as you have sent help, "said the girl. 

"Mebby I better. I'll help get him up the hill and in the shade. ThenI'll beat it for the doc. If I don't come back after that, " he saidslowly, flushing, "it ain't because I'm scared of anything I done. "

 * * * * *

Far down in the valley Boyar's sweating sides glistened in the sun. Anarm was raised in a gesture of farewell as the tramp swung the ponytoward the town. Much to her surprise, Louise found herself waving avigorous adieu to the distant figure. 

The tramp Overland, realizing that the deputy was badly injured, toldthe first person he met about the accident, advising him to get help atonce for the deputy. Then he turned the pony toward the foothills. In aclump of greasewood he dismounted, and, leaving the reins hanging to thesaddle-horn, struck Black Boyar on the flank. The horse leaped towardthe Moonstone Trail. The tramp disappeared in the brush. 

CHAPTER VI

ADVOCATE EXTRAORDINARY

Louise Lacharme, more beautiful than roses, strolled across thevine-shadowed porch of the big ranch-house and sat on the porch railopposite her uncle. His clear blue eyes twinkled approval as he gazed ather. 

Walter Stone was fifty, but the fifty of the hard-riding optimist of thegreat outdoors. The smooth tan of his cheeks contrasted oddly with thesilver of his close-cropped hair. He appeared as a young man prematurelygray. 

"How is Boyar?" he asked, smiling a little as Louise, sitting sidewayson the porch-rail, swung her foot back and forth quickly. 

"Oh, Boy is all right. The tramp turned him loose in the valley. Boycame home. "

"It was a clever bit of riding, to get the best of Tenlow on his ownrange. Was Dick very badly hurt?" queried Walter Stone. 

"Yes, his collar-bone was broken and he was crushed and terriblybruised. His horse was killed. When I was down, day before yesterday, the doctor said Dick would be all right in time. "

"How about this boy, the tramp boy they arrested?"

"Oh, " said Louise, "that was a shame! He stayed and helped the doctorput Dick in the buggy and rode with him to town. Mr. Tenlow wasunconscious, and the boy had to go to hold him. Then the boy explainedit all at the store, and they arrested him anyway, as a suspiciouscharacter. I should have let him go. When Mr. Tenlow became consciousand they told him they had the boy, he said to keep him in thecalaboose; that that was where he belonged. "

"And you want me to see what I can do for this boy?"

"I didn't say so. " And Louise tilted her chin. 

"Now, sweetheart, don't quibble. It isn't like you. "

The gray silk-clad ankle flashed back and forth. "Really, Uncle Walter, you could have done something for the boy without making me say that Iwanted you to. You're always doing something nice--helping people thatare in trouble. You don't usually have to be asked. "

"Perhaps I like to be asked--by--Louise. "

"You're just flattering me, I know! But uncle, if you had seen the boyjump in front of Mr. Tenlow's horse when Dick shot at the tramp, --andafterwards when the boy helped me with Dick and stuck right to him clearto his house, --why, you couldn't help but admire him. Then theyarrested him--for what? It's a shame! I told him to run when I saw thedoctor's buggy coming. "

"Yes, Louise; the boy may be brave and likable enough, but how are we toknow what he really is? I don't like to take the risk. I don't like tomeddle in such affairs. "

"Uncle Walter! Risk! And the risks you used to take when you were ayoung man. Oh, Aunty Eleanor has told me all about your riding bronchosand the Panamint--and lots of things. I won't tell you all, for you'd beflattered to pieces, and I want you in one whole lump to-day. "

"Only for to-day, Louise?"

"Oh, maybe for to-morrow, and to-morrow and to-morrow. But, uncle, onlylast week you said at breakfast that the present system of arrest andimprisonment was all wrong. That was because they arrested that editorwho was a friend of yours. But now, when you have a chance to prove thatyou were in earnest, you don't seem a bit interested. "

"Did I really say all that, sweetness?"

"Now _you_ are quibbling. And does 'sweetness, ' mean me, or what yousaid at breakfast? Because you said 'the whole damn system'; and therewere two ladies at the table. Of course, that was before breakfast. After breakfast you picked a rose for aunty, and kissed me. "

Walter Stone laughed heartily. "But I do take a great deal of interestin anything that interests you. "

Louise slipped lithely from the porch-rail and swung up on the broad armof his chair, snuggling against him impetuously. "I know you do, uncle. I just love you! I'll stop teasing. "

"I surrender. I'm a pretty fair soldier at long range, but this"--andhis arm went round her affectionately--"this is utter defeat. I strikemy colors. Then, you always give in so gracefully. "

"To you, perhaps, Uncle Walter. But I haven't given in this time. I'mjust as interested as ever. "

"And you think they are the men we saw out on the Mojave by thewater-tank?"

"Oh, I know it! They remembered the rose. They spoke of it right away, before I did. "

"Yes, Louise. And you remember, too, that they were arrested atBarstow--for murder, the conductor said?"

"That's just it! The boy Collie says the tramp Overland Red didn't killthe man. He was trying to save him and gave him water. If you could onlyhear what the boy says about it--"

"I don't suppose it would do any harm, " said the rancher. "I dislike touse my influence. You know, I practically control Dick Tenlow's place atthe elections. "

"That's just why he should be willing to let the boy go, " said Louisequickly. 

"No, sweetheart. That's just why I shouldn't ask Dick to do anything ofthe kind. But I see I'm in for it. You have already interested your AuntEleanor. She spoke to me about the boy last night. "

"Aunty Eleanor is a dear. I didn't really ask her to speak to you. "

"No, " he said, laughing. "Of course not. You're too clever for that. Yousimply sow your poppy-seed and leave it alone. The poppies come up fastenough. "

Louise laughed softly. "You're pretending to criticize and you're reallyflattering, --deliberately, --aren't you, Uncle Walter?"

"Flattering? And you?"

"Because Aunt Eleanor said you could be simply irresistible when youwanted to be. I think so, too. Especially when you are on a horse. "

"Naturally. I always did feel more confident in the saddle. I could, ifneed arose, ride away like the chap in Bobby Burns's verse, youremember--

 "He gave his bridle-rein a shake, And turned him on the shore, With, 'Farewell, forever more, my dear, Farewell, forever more. '"

"But you didn't, uncle. Aunty said she used to be almost afraid thatyou'd ride away with her, like Lochinvar. "

"Yes. " And Walter Stone sighed deeply. 

"Oh, Uncle Walter! That sounded full of regrets and things. "

"It was. It is. I'm fifty. "

"It isn't fifty. It's a lack of exercise. And you wouldn't be half sofine-looking if you were fat. I _always_ sigh when I don't know what todo. Then I just saddle Boy and ride. And I'll _never_ let myself getfat. "

"A vow is a vow--at sixteen. "

"Now I _know_ you need exercise. You're getting reminiscent, and that'sa sign of torpid liver. "

Walter Stone laughed till the tears came. "Exercise!" he exclaimed. "Ah!I begin to divine a subtle method in your doctrine of health. Ah, ha! Ilook well on a horse! I need exercise! It's a very satisfactory ridefrom here to town and back. Incidentally, Louise, I smell a rat. I usedto be able to hold my own. "

"It isn't my fault if you don't now, " said Louise, snuggling in hisarm. 

"That's unworthy of you!" he growled, his arm tightening round her slimyoung figure. "Tell me, sweetheart; how is it that you can be sothoroughly practical and so unfathomably romantic in the same breath?You have deliberately shattered me to bits that you might mould menearer to your heart's desire. And your heart's desire, just now, is tohelp an unknown, a tramp, out of jail. "

Louise pouted. "You say 'just now' as though my heart's desires weren'tvery serious matters as a rule. You _know_ you wouldn't be half so happyif I didn't tease you for something at least once a week. I rememberonce I didn't ask you for anything for a whole week, and you went andasked Aunty Eleanor if I were ill. Besides, the boy _needs_ help, whether he did anything wrong or not. Can't you understand?"

"That's utopian, Louise, but it isn't generally practicable. "

"Then make it individually practicable, uncle--just this time. Pshaw! Idon't believe you're half-trying to argue. Why, when Boyar bucked youoff that time and ran into the barb-wire, then _he_ didn't needdoctoring for that awful cut on his shoulder, because he had donewrong. "

"That is no parallel, Louise. Boyar didn't know any better. And this boyis not sick or injured. "

"How do you know that? He's down in that terribly hot, smelly jail. Ifhe did get sick, who would know it?"

"And Boyar isn't a human being. He can't reason. "

"Oh, Uncle Walter! I thought you knew horses better than that. Boyar canreason much better than most people. "

"The proof being that he prefers you to any one else?"

"No, " replied Louise, smiling mischievously. "That isn't Boyar's_reason_; it's his affection. That's different. "

"Yes, quite different, " said Walter Stone. "Is this boy good-looking?"And the rancher fumbled in his pocket for a cigar. 

Louise slipped from the arm of his chair and stood opposite him, herlips pouted teasingly, the young face glowing with mischief and fun. "AmI?" she asked, curtsying and twinkling. "'Cause if you're going to ridedown to the valley to see the boy just because Beautiful asked you, Beautiful will go alone. But if you come because _I_ want you, "--andLouise smiled bewitchingly, --"why, Beautiful will come too, and sing foryou--perhaps. "

"My heart, my service, and my future are at your feet, Señorita Louisa, my mouse. Are your eyes gray or green this morning?"

"Both, " replied Louise quickly. "Green for spunk and gray for love. That's what Aunty Eleanor says. "

"Come a little nearer. Let me see. No, they are quite gray now. "

"'Cause why?" she cooed, and stooping, kissed him with warm, carelessaffection. "You always ask me about my eyes when you want me to kissyou. Of course, when you want to kiss _me_, why, you just come and take'em. "

"My esteemed privilege, sweetheart. I am your caballero. "

"Did Aunty Eleanor?" said Louise. 

But Walter Stone rose and straightened his shoulders. "That will do, mouse. I can't have any jealousy between my sweethearts. "

"Never! And, Uncle Walter, do you want to ride Major or Rally? Rally andBoyar get along better together. I'll saddle Boy in a jiffy. "

 * * * * *

To ride some ten miles in the blazing sun of midsummer requires a kindof anticipatory fortitude, at fifty, especially when one's own vine andfig tree is cool and fragrant, embowered in blue flowers and graced by, let us say, Louise. And a cigar is always at its best when half-smoked. But when Louise came blithely leading the two saddle-ponies, Black Boyarand the big pinto Rally, Walter Stone shook an odd twenty years fromhis broad shoulders and swung into the saddle briskly. 

From the shade of the great sycamore warders of the wide gate, he waveda gauntleted salute to Aunt Eleanor, who stood on the porch, drawing aleaf of the graceful moon-vine through her slender fingers. She nodded asmiling farewell. 

Louise and her uncle rode as two lovers, their ponies close together. The girl swayed to Boyar's quick, swinging walk. Walter Stone sat thestrong, tireless Rally with solid ease. 

The girl, laughing happily at her triumph, leaned toward her escortteasingly, singing fragments of old Spanish love-songs, or talking witheager lips and sparkling eyes. Of a sudden she would assume ademureness, utterly bewitching in its veiled and perfect mimicry. Quiteseriously he would set about to overcome this delightful mood of herswith extravagant vows of lifelong love and servitude, as though he werein truth her chosen caballero and she his Señorita of the Rose. 

And as they played at love-making, hidden graces of the girl's sweetnature unfolded to him, and deep in his heart he wondered, and foundlife good, and Youth still unspoiled by the years, and Louise averitable enchantress of infinite moods, each one adorable. Golden-haired, gray-eyed, quick with sympathy, sweetly subtle and subtlysweet was Louise. . . . And one must worship Youth and Beauty and Love, even with their passing bitter on one's lips. 

But to Walter Stone no such bitterness had come, this soldierly, wisecaballero escorting his adorable señorita on an errand of mercy. His wasthe heart of Youth, eternal and undaunted Youth. And Beauty was hers, ofthe spirit as well as of the flesh. And Love. . . . 

"Why, Louise! There are tears on your lashes, my colleen!"

"But I am singing, uncle. " And she smiled through her tears. 

"Sweetheart?"

"Yes, Uncle Walter?"

"What is it? Tell me. "

"I wish I could. I don't know. I think I'm getting to be grown up--justlike a woman. It--it makes me--think of lots of things. Let's ride. " Andher silver spurs flashed. 

Boyar, taken quite by surprise, grunted as he leaped down the MoonstoneTrail. He resented this undeserved punishment by plunging sidewaysacross the road. Again came the flash of the silver spurs, and WalterStone heard Louise disciplining the pony. 

"Just a woman. Just like a woman, " murmured the rancher. "Now, Boyar, and some others of us, will never quite understand what that means. " Andwith rein and voice he lifted the pinto Rally to a lope. 

CHAPTER VII

THE GIRL WHO GLANCED BACK

At the crossroads in the valley stood the local jail, or "coop, " as itwas more descriptively called. Unpainted, isolated, its solitaryugliness lacked even the squalid dignity commonly associated with theword "jail. " The sun pelted down upon its bleached, unshaded roof andsides. The burning air ran over its warped shingles like a kind ofcolorless fire. 

The boy Collie, half-dreaming in the suffocating heat of the place, started to his feet as the door swung open. He had heard horses coming. They had stopped. He could hardly realize that the sunlight was swimmingthrough the close dusk of the place. But the girl of Moonstone Cañon, reining Boyar round, was real, and she smiled and nodded a greeting. 

"This is Mr. Stone, my uncle, " she said. "He wants to talk with you. "

With a glance that noted each unlovely detail of the place, the brokeniron bed, the cracked pitcher, and the unspeakable blankets, Louisetouched her pony and was gone. 

Collie rubbed his eyes, blinking in the sun as he stood gazing afterher. 

Walter Stone, standing near the doorway, noted the lad's clear, healthyskin, his well-shaped head with its tumble of wavy black hair, and theluminous dark eyes. He felt an instant sympathy for the boy, a sympathythat he masked with a business-like brusqueness. "Well, young man?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Come outside. It's vile in there. "

Stone led his pony to the north side of the "coop. "

Collie followed. 

Away to the west he saw the hazy peaks. A lake of burning air pulsedabove the flat, hot floor of the valley. Over there lay the hills andthe shade and the road. . . . Somewhere beyond was Overland, his friend, penniless, hunted, hungry. . . . 

"She brung you?" queried the boy. 

"Yes. I have seen Tenlow, the sheriff. He is willing to let you go at myrequest. What do you intend doing, now that you are free?"

"I don' know. Find Red, I guess. "

Walter Stone nodded. "What then?"

"Oh, stick it out with Red. They'll be after him sure now. Red's mypal. "

"What has he done to get the police after him?"

"Nothin'. It's the bunch. "

"The bunch?"

"Uhuh. Them guys out on the Mojave. But say, are you workin' me to getnext to Red and get him pinched again?"

"No. You don't have to answer me. This man Red is nothing to me, one wayor the other. He took Miss Lacharme's pony, but she has overlooked that. I thought, perhaps, you might care to explain your position. Perhaps youhad rather not. You may go now if you wish. "

"Is that straight?"

"Yes. "

For several tense seconds the lad gazed at his questioner. Finally hisgaze shifted to the hills. "I guess you're straight, " he said presently. "I guess she wouldn't have you for a relation if you wasn't straight. "

The elder man laughed. "That's right--she wouldn't, young man. "

"How's the sheriff guy?" asked the boy. 

"He's getting along well enough. What made you ask?"

"Oh, nothin'. I hate to see any guy get hurt. "

"I'm glad to hear you say that. I begin to think you are a bigger manthan he is. "

"Me?" And Collie flushed, misunderstanding the other's drift. "I guessyou're kiddin'. "

"No, I mean it. Mr. Tenlow still seemed pretty hot about your share inthis--er--enterprise. You seem to have no hard feelings against him. "

"Huh! He shouldn't to be sore at _me_. I didn't spur no horse onto himand ride him down like a dog. I guess Red would 'a' killed him if he'dseen it. Say, nobody got Red, did they?"

"I haven't heard of it. How did this man Red come to pick you up? You'repretty young to be tramping. "

"Cross your heart you ain't tryin' to queer Red? You ain't tryin' to putthe Injun sign on us, are you?"

"No. I have heard all about the Mojave affair--the prospector that diedon the track--and the arrest of Overland Red at Barstow. You told myniece that this Overland Red was 'square. ' How did you come to be mixedup in it?"

"I guess I'll have to tell you the whole thing, straight. Red alwayssaid that to tell the truth was just as good as lyin', because nobodywould believe us, anyway. And if a fella gets caught tellin' the truth, why, he's that much to the good. "

"Well, I shall try and believe you this time, " said Stone. "MissLacharme thinks you're honest. "

"A guy couldn't lie to her!" said the boy. 

"Then just consider me her representative, " said Stone, smiling. 

Collie squatted in the meager shade of the "coop. "

Walter Stone, dropping the pony's reins, came and sat beside the lad. There was something in the older man's presence, an unspoken assuranceof comradeship and sincerity that annulled the boy's tendency toreticence about himself. He began hesitatingly, "My dad was a drinkin'man. Ma died, and he got worse at it. I was a kid and didn't care, forhe never done nothin' to me. We lived back East, over a pawnbroker's onMain Street. One day pa come home with a timetable. He sat up 'most allnight readin' it. Every time I woke up, he was readin' it and talkin' tohimself. That was after ma died. 

"In the mornin', when I was gettin' dressed, he come over and says totake the needle he had and stick it through the timetable anywhere. Iwas scared he was goin' to have the jimmies. But I took the needle--ithad black thread in it--and stuck it through the timetable. He openedthe page and laughed awful loud and queer. Albuquerque was where theneedle went in. He couldn't say the name right, but he kept lookin' atit. 

"Then he went out and was gone all day and all night. When he come backhe showed me a whole wad of money. I says, 'Where did you get it?' Hegot mad and tells me to shut up. 

"That day we got on a train. I says, 'Where are we goin'?' and he saysto never mind, and did I want some peanuts. 

"We kept ridin' and ridin' in the same car, and eatin' bananas andsan'wiches and sleepin' settin' up at nights. I was just about sick whenwe come to Albuquerque. You see, that was where the needle went throughthe timetable, and dad said we would get off there. He got awful drunkthat night. 

"Next day he said he was goin' to quit liquor and make a fresh start. Iknowed he wouldn't, 'cause he always said that next mornin'. But I guesshe tried to quit. I don't know. 

"One night he didn't come back to the room where we was stayin' upstairsover the saloon. They found him 'way down the track next day, all cut topieces by the train. "

The boy paused, reached forward, and plucked a withered stem of grasswhich he wound round and round his finger. 

Walter Stone sat looking across the valley. 

"I guess his money was all gone, " resumed the boy. "Anyhow, 'bout a yearafter, Overland Red comes along. He comes to the saloon where I wasstayin', --they give me a job cleanin' out every day, --and he got totalkin' a lot of stuff about scenery and livin' the simple life, and allthat guff. The bartender got to jawin' with him, and I laughed, and thebartender hits me a lick side the head. Red, he hits the bartender alick side of _his_ head--and the bartender don't get up right away. 'I'll learn him to hit kids, ' said Red. 'If you learn him to hit 'em ashard as that, ' I says to Red, 'then it will be all off with me the nexttime. '

"Does he hit you very often?' said Red. 

"Whenever he feels like it, ' I told him. 

"Red laughed and said to come on. I was sick of there, so I run awaywith Red. We tried it on a freight and got put off. Red had some waterin a canteen he swiped. It was lucky for us he did. We kept walkin' andgoin' nights, and mebby ridin' on freights in the daytime if we could. One day, a long time after that, we was crossin' the desert again. Wegot put off a freight that time, too. We was walkin' along when we founda guy layin' beside the track. Red said he wasn't dead, but was dyin'. We give him some water. Then he kind of come to and wanted to drink itall. Red said, 'No. ' Then the guy got kind of crazy. He got up andgrabbed Red. I was scared. 

"Red, he passed me the canteen and told me to keep it away from the guybecause more water would kill him. Then the guy went for Red. 'He'sdyin' on his feet, ' said Red. 'It's his last flash. ' And he tried tohold the guy quiet, talkin' decent to him all the time. They wasstaggerin' around when the guy tripped backwards over the rail. His headhit on the other rail and Red fell on top of him. Anyway, the guy wasdead. "

Walter Stone shifted his position, turning to gaze at the boy's whiteface. "Yes--go on, " he said quietly. 

"Red was for searchin' the guy, but I says to come on before we gotcaught. Red, he laughed kind of queer, and asked me, 'Caught at what?'Then I said, 'I dunno, ' but I was scared. 

"Anyway, he went through the dead guy's clothes and found some papersand old letters and a little leather bag with a whole lot of gold-dustin it. Red said mebby five hundred dollars!"

"Gold-dust?"

"Uhuh! Then Red _was_ scared. He buried the bag and the papers 'way outin the sand and made a mark on the ties to find it by. "

"Did you find out the dead man's name?" asked Stone, glancing curiouslyat the boy. 

"Nope. We just beat it for the next station. I was feelin' sick. I giveout, and Red, he lugged me to the next water-tank. He was pourin' wateron me when the Limited come along and stopped, and _she_ throwed therose to us. Red told me about it after. You wouldn't go back on a pallike that, would you?"

"No, I don't know that I should. "

"That's me!" said the boy. "Then they went to work and pinched us atBarstow. Said we killed the guy because his head was smashed in where hehit the rails. They tried to make Red say that he robbed the guy afterkillin' him. But Red told everything, except he didn't tell about theletters and the gold-dust. They tried to make me say it, but I dassent. I knowed they would fix Red sure if I did, and he told me not to tellabout the gold if they did pinch us. "

"They let you go--after the police examination. Then how is it that theauthorities are after you again?"

"It's the bunch, " replied the boy. "Them guys out there knowed the deadguy had a mine or a ledge or somethin' where he got the gold. Nobody waswise to where. They told at the jail how he used to come in once in awhile and send his dust to Los Angeles by the express company. All themguys like the sheriff and the station agent and all the people in thattown are workin' tryin' to find out where the gold come from. They thinkbecause Red and me is tramps that they can make us tell and arrest uswhenever they like. But even Red don't know, unless it's in the papershe hid in the sand. "

"That sounds like a pretty straight story, " said Stone. "So you intendto stick to this man Red?"

"Sure! Would you quit him now, when they're after him worst?"

"They will get him finally. "

"Mebby. But Red's pretty slick at a getaway. If they do pinch him again, that's where I come in. I'm the only witness and the only friend he'sgot. "

"Of course. But don't you see, my boy, that your way of living is somuch against you that you couldn't really help him? A man's naked wordis worth just what his friends and neighbors will allow him for it, andno more. "

"But ain't a guy got no rights in this country?"

"Certainly he has. But he has to prove that he is entitled to them, byhis way of living. "

"Then he's got to go to church, and work, and live decent, or he don'tget a square deal, hey?"

"But why shouldn't he do that much?"

Collie did not answer. Instead, he inspected his questioner criticallyfrom head to foot. "I guess you're right, " he said finally. "I've heardfolks talk like that before, but I never took no stock. They kind ofsaid it because they knowed it. I guess you say it because you mean it. "

"Of course I do, " said Stone heartily. "Well, here comes my niece withthe mail. See! Over there is El Camino Real, running north. My ranch isup _there_, in the hills. My foreman's name is Williams. If you shouldask him for work, I believe he might give you something to do. I heardhim say he needed a man, not long ago. "

Walter Stone cinched up the saddle and mounted his pony. The boy's eyesshone as he gazed at the strong, soldierly figure. Ah, to look likethat, and ride a horse like that!

Boyar, the black pony, clattered up and stopped. "Hello, folks!" saidLouise, purposely including the boy in her greeting. 

Collie flushed happily. Then a bitterness grew in his heart as hethought of his friend Overland, hunted from town to town by the same lawthat protected these people--an unjust law that they observed andfostered. 

"Well?" said Stone. 

Collie's gaze was on the ground. "I don' know, " he muttered. "I don'know. "

"Well, good luck to you!" And the ponies swung into that philosophicallope of the Western horse who knows his journey's length. 

The figures of the riders grew smaller. Still the boy stood in the road, watching them. Undecided, he gazed. Then came an answer to his stubbornself-questioning. Louise glanced back--glanced back for an instant inmute sympathy with his loneliness. 

Slowly the boy turned and entered the jail. He folded his coat over hisarm, stepped outside, and closed the door. 

Before him stretched the hot gray level of El Camino Real, the road tothe beyond. From it branched a narrower road, reaching up into thesouthern hills, --on, up to the mysterious Moonstone Cañon with itssinging stream and its gracious shade. Somewhere beyond, higher, and inthe shadowy fastness of the great ranges lay the Moonstone Ranch . . . Herhome. 

"I guess, steppin' up smart, I'll be there just about in time forsupper, " said the boy. And whistling cheerily, he set his feet towardthe south and the Moonstone Trail. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE TEST

After a week of weeding in the vegetable garden, Collie was put to workrepairing fence. There were many miles of it, inclosing some twentythousand acres of grazing-land, and the cross-fencing of the oat, alfalfa, fruit, and vegetable acreage. The fence was forever in need ofrepair. The heavy winter rains, torrential in the mountains, oftenwashed away entire hillsides, leaving a dozen or so staggering postsheld together by the wires, tangled and sagging. Cattle frequentlypulled loosened posts from the earth by kneeling under the wire andworking through, oblivious to the barbs. Again, "stock gone a littleloco" would often charge straight through the rigid and ripping wirebarriers as though their strands were of thread. Posts would split inthe sun, and staples would drop out, leaving sagging spaces which cattlenever failed to find and take advantage of. Trees uprooted by the rainand wind would often fall across the fence. 

Altogether, the maintaining of a serviceable fence-line on awell-ordered ranch necessitates eternal vigilance. 

The Moonstone Rancho was well ordered under the direct supervision ofWalter Stone's foreman, "Brand" Williams. Williams was a Wyoming cowmanof the old school; taciturn, lean, sinewy. 

Some ten years before, Williams, seeking employment, had ridden over therange with Stone. Returning, the cowman remarked disconsolately, "I likeyour stock, and I'll tie to you. But, say, it's only playin' at ranchin'on twenty thousand fenced. I was raised in Wyoming. "

"All right, " Stone had replied. "Play hard and we'll get alongfirst-rate. "

Every inch of Brand Williams's six feet was steeped in the astringent ofexperience. He played hard and prospered, as did his employer. 

Collie stood awaiting the foreman's instructions. 

"Ever mend fence?" asked Williams. 

"Nope. "

"Good. Then you can learn right. Go rope a cayuse--get some staples andthat leetle axe in my office, and go to it. There's plenty fence. "

The "Go rope a cayuse" momentarily staggered the boy, but he wentsilently to the corral, secured a riata, and by puzzling the playfulponies by his amateur tactics he finally entangled "Baldy, " awhite-faced cow-pony of peaceful mien but uncertain disposition. 

Williams, watching the performance, lazily rolled a straw-papercigarette. 

Snubbed to the post, bridled and saddled awkwardly, Baldy gave nooutward sign of his malignant inward intent of getting rid of the ladthe minute he mounted. 

Williams slowly drew a match across his sleeve from elbow to wrist, ending with a flame that was extremely convenient to his cigarette. Hewasted no effort at anything. He was a man who never met a yawn halfway, but only gave in to it when actually obliged to. Collie climbed into thesaddle and started for the corral gate. He arrived there far ahead ofthe horse. He got to his feet and brushed his knees. The pony washumping round the corral with marvelous agility for so old a horse. 

"He never did like a left-handed man, " said Williams gravely. "Next timeget on him from the _other_ side, and see if he don't behave. Hold on;don't be in a hurry. Let him throw a few more jumps, then he'll quit forto-day most likely. And say, son, if he does take to buckin' with youagain, don't choke that saddle to death hangin' on to the horn. Set upstraight, lean a little back, and clinch your knees. You'll get piled, anyhow, but you might as well start right. "

The boy approached the horse again, secured the dangling reins, andagain mounted. Baldy was as demure as a spinster in church. He actuallylooked pious. 

Collie urged the pony toward the gate. Baldy reared. 

"A spade bit ain't made to pull teeth with, although you can, " saidWilliams. "Baldy's old, but his teeth are all good yet. Just easy now. Ride in your saddle, not on your reins. That's it! And say, kid, I would'a' got them staples and that axe before crawlin' the hoss, eh?"

Collie flushed. He dismounted and walked to the foreman's office. Whenhe returned to the corral, the horse was gone. Williams still sat on thecorral bars smoking and gazing earnestly at nothing. 

Round the corner of the stable Collie saw the pony, his nose peacefullysubmerged in the water-trough, but his eye wide and vigilant. The boyran toward him. Baldy snorted and, wheeling, ran back into the corral, circled it with an expression which said plainly, "Let us play a littlegame of tag, in which, my young friend, you shall always be 'It. '"

Again Collie tried to rope the pony. 

"Want any help?" asked Williams, as he slid from the corral bars to theground. 

"Nope. " And Collie disentangled his legs from an amazing contortion ofthe riata and tried to whirl the loop as he had seen the cowmen whirlit. 

"Hold on, son!" said Williams. "You mean right, but don't go to rope himwith the saddle on. If you looped that horn, he, like as not, would yankyou clean to Calabasas before you got your feet out of that mess of ropeyou're standin' in. Anyway, you ain't goin' to Calabasas; you're due upthe other way. "

Collie was learning things rapidly, and, better still, he was learningin a way that would cause him to remember. 

Williams spoke sharply to the pony. Baldy stopped and eyed the foremanwith vapid inquisitiveness. "Now, son, I got three things to tell you, "and the foreman gathered up the reins. "First--keep on keepin' yourmouth shut and tendin' to business. It pays. Second--always drop yourreins over a hoss's head when you get off, whether he's trained that wayor not. And last--always figure a hoss thinks he knows more than you do. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he don't. Then he won't fool you sofrequent, for you'll be watchin' him. I wouldn't 'a' said that much, only you're a tenderfoot from the East, I hear. If you was a tenderfootfrom the West, you would 'a' had to take your own medicine. "

Collie's shoulder was lame from his fall and was becoming stiff, but hegrinned cheerfully, and said nothing, which pleased Williams. 

The foreman leveled his slow, keen eyes at him for a minute. "You'llfind a spring under the live-oaks by the third cross-fence north. Reckonyou'll get there about noon. Keep your eye peeled for fire. I thought Iseen somebody up there as I come across from the corral early thismornin'. We come close to burnin' out here once, account of a hobo'sfire. Understand, if you ketch anybody cantelopin' around _a-foot_, youjust ride 'em off the range pronto. That's all. "

As Collie rode away through the morning sunshine, Williams loafed acrossthe corral, roped and saddled a white-eyed pinto, and, spurring up anarrow cañon west of the ranch buildings, disappeared round a turn ofthe shady trail. As the foreman rode, he alternately talked to the ponyand himself. 

"Tramp, eh?" he said, addressing the pony. "What do you say, Sarko?Nothin', eh? Same as me. . . . Overland Red's kid pal, eh? Huh! I knowedJack Summers, Red Jack Summers, down in Sonora in '83. Mexico was someopen country then. Jack was a white pardner, too. Went to the bad, account of that Chola girl that he was courtin' goin' wrong. . . . Funnyhow the boss come to pick up that kid. Thinks there's somethin' in him. O' course they is. But what? Eh, Sarko, what? You say nothin', same asme. . . . Here, you! That's a lizard, you fool hoss. Never seen one before, so you're try in' to catch it by jumpin' through your bridle after it, eh? Never seen one before, oh, no! Don't like that, eh? Well, you quit, and I will. Exactly. It's me, and my ole Spanish spurs. I'mlistenin'. . . . Nothin' to say?. . . Uhuh! I reckon little Louise hadsomethin' to do with gettin' the kid the job. Well, if _she_ likes him, I got to. Guess I'd love a snake if she said to. Yes, I'm listenin' tomyself . . . " And the taciturn foreman's hard, weathered face wrinkled ina smile. "I'm listenin' . . . None of the boys know Red's camped up by thespring. I do. Red used to be a damn white Injun in the old days. I'llgive the kid a chance to put him wise for old times. And I'll find outif the kid means business or not . . . Which is some help to know how tohandle him later. "

Williams picketed his pony in the meadow above the third cross-fence. Loafing down the slope toward the spring, he noticed the faint smoke ofa fire. Farther down the line fence, he could see Collie in thedistance, riding slowly toward the three live-oaks. The foreman found aconvenient seat on a ledge, rolled another of his eternal cigarettes, and watched the boy approach from below. 

Collie had already dismounted three times that morning; twice to mendfence, and once more involuntarily. He determined, with a mighty vow tothe bow-legged god of all horseflesh, to learn to stay on a broncho ordie learning. 

The boy had a native fondness for animals, and he had already thought ofbuying a pony with his first few months' wages. But the vision of hiserstwhile companion Overland, perhaps imprisoned and hopeless in thegrip of the "bunch, " annulled that desire. He would save every cent forthat emergency. 

Arrived at the spring, both boy and horse drank gratefully, for the daywas hot. Then Collie noticed the thin smoke coming through the trees andstrode toward it. 

"It ain't much of a fire yet, " said Overland. "Our hired girl--" and hegrinned through a two-weeks' tangle of red beard. "Oh, but ain't he the'cute little workin'-man with his little ole hoss and his garments oftoil. "

"Oh, Red!" exclaimed the boy. 

"Me sure! I been hidin' in my whiskers so long I didn't know if you'dknow me. "

"I been thinking about you every day. "

"Uhuh. So have I. I reckon some others has, too. Say, what you beendoin' lately, studyin' law or learnin' the piano? I been lookin' foryou for a week. It's the first day I seen you out on the range. "

"I was working in the garden first. Then they put me at this, thismornin'. "

"Uhuh. Well, Col, that there getaway of mine is in all the papers. 'Tramp Cowboy Steals Horse and Escapes. ' Say, did she yip about myborrowin' the cayuse?"

"She was mad at first. But your fancy ridin' kind of made her forget. Itold her you was square, Red. "

"Huh! I guess she could tell that herself. "

"But, Red, I'm not kidding. I told her uncle about the bunch and the guyon the desert. "

"Did he believe it?"

"I guess so. He ain't said much. But he gives me the chance to makegood. He must have believed somethin'. "

"Well, stick to it, Collie. You never was cut out for a genuine toweristlike me, anyhow. It ain't in your blood. "

"What you goin' to do now, Red?"

"Me? Listen! There's gold out there, somewhere. I'm broke now. I needsome dough. I got ideas. Ten dollars does it. I get a new set of clothesand get shaved and me hair trimmed close. Then I commence me good workin Main Street, in Los. Down on North Main is where I catch the gentfrom the East who will fall for anything that wears a Stetson and someoutdoors complexion. I tell all about my ledge in the Mojave and getstaked to go out and prospect. It's bein' done every day--it and theother fella. "

"But, Red--"

"Hold on, kid. I ain't goin' to bunk nobody. This here's square. I needfinancin'--a burro and a grubstake and me for the big dry spot. Ship theoutfit to the desert town, and then hit it along the rails to where wehid it. If the papers we hid is any good, me to locate the ledge. Anyhow, there's a good five hundred in the poke, and that's better thana kick in the pants. "

"You'll get pinched sure, Red. "

"Nix, kiddo. Not out there. Money talks. 'Course it ain't makin' anydistressin' sounds around here jest now, but, say, got the makin's?"

"I ain't smoked since I been here, Red. "

"Excuse me, Miss Collie. What denomination did you say?"

"Straight, Red. I'm savin' my money. "

"What do they pay you for settin' on that cayuse?"

"Fifteen a month, and board, and the horse to ride. "

"Don't mention the hoss, pal. Jest make motions with your hands when youmean him. Talkin' is apt to wake him up. "

"He pitched me twice. "

"Just havin' bad dreams, that's all, " said Overland, grinning. "Fifteena month and found ain't bad for a bum, is it?"

"Cut that out, Red. I ain't no bum. "

"Ex-cuse me. There I gone and laminated your feelin's again. Why in helldon't you blush, or drop your little ole lace handkerchief, or fix yourback hair, so I can remember I'm talkin' to a lady? It ain't manners, this here impersonatin' you're a boy like that. "

"Quit your kiddin', Red. Mebby you think it was easy to cut out the oldstuff, and everybody on the ranch on to what I used to be. I was cryin'the first night. I was lonesome for you. "

Overland's eyelids flickered. He grinned. "Uhuh! I could hear you cleanover in the Simi Valley. I was thinkin' of comin' right back, only--"

"Oh, if you think I'm lyin to you--"

Overland thrust up a soiled palm. "Nix; you never did yet. How much coincan you rustle?"

"I got that eight-and-a-half I had when we was pinched. It's down to thebunk-house. "

"Well, bring it up here to-morrow mornin'. And, say, swipe a sogun forme. I near froze last night. "

Collie's brows drew together. "I'll bring the money, sure! but I can'tswipe no blanket, even for you. The boss thinks I'm square, and so doesshe. I'll bring tobacco and papers. Got any grub?"

"Well, some. I ain't exactly livin' on sagebrush and scenery yet. I beentrainin' some chickens to do the Texas Tommy. Every one that learns todo it in one lesson gets presented with a large hot fryin'-pan. Surprisin' how them chickens is fond of dancin'. I reckon I learned sixof 'em since I seen you last. But don't forget the eight rollers andfour bits. I need ten, but eight-fifty will do. I'll have to leave outthe silk pejammies and the rosewater this trip. But kickie pants is goodenough for me to sleep in. How's that sheriff gent?"

"Busted his collar-bone and killed his horse. "

"I'm sad for the hoss. How do you like livin' decent?"

"Fine, Red! I wish you would--"

"Hold on, Collie, not me! I'm gettin' too old, too plumb old anddisgusted with this vale of steers to change and tie down to shortgrass. Now you're near enough to the age of that little Louise girl tomake life interestin'. "

"Who said anything about her?"

"Whoa, Chico! Back up. You're steppin' on your bridle. Don't go 'waymad. Why, I said somethin' about her, that's who. You got any idea ofhobblin' my talk?"

"No. But--"

"Oh, you can't flim your ole pal, nohow. You're just commencin' life onwhat that little Louise lady thinks you ought to be. And you will be itsome day, if you keep straight. So will I. "

"You?" Collie was unable to associate a reconstructive idea withOverland's mode of life. 

"Say! Just as if I never knowed a good woman. Say, I could actooly giveup smokin' for her, if I had to hire some guy to do it for me. That'swhat I think of her. When I get me plush rags and the dizzy lid, I'llcall around in me private caboose and take you both for a little ride. "

For a moment the boy gazed away to where the silver of the SouthernPacific rails glinted in the valley. Overland Red's presence broughtback poignantly the long, lazy days of loafing and the wide, starrynights of wayside fire, tobacco, and talk. There was a charm in the freelife of the road--that long gray road that never ended--never ended inthe quiet shade of a mountain ranch or in the rose-bordered pathway to avalley cottage. The long gray road held out no promise of rest for wornand aged folk. After all, its only freedom was the freedom of eternalwandering . . . Until one could adventure no longer . . . And then? Betterto tread the harder path of duty. 

The boy's black eyes were lifted pleadingly. "Red, " he saidhesitatingly. "Red, I got to tell you to camp the other side of thatline fence till I come to-morrow. "

Overland understood instantly that the lad was but following generalinstructions. He loved the boy, and so, perversely, worked upon hisfeelings. "Oh, the _other_ side? Ex-cuse me, chief, for intrudin' onthis here resavation. Sorry I'm crowdin' you so. "

"Now, Red, wait--"

"Wait? What, for you to insult your ole pal again by tellin' him hemight drink all the water in this here spring, mebby, or inflooence themorals of the cattle, or steal the wire off the fence? Huh! I thought Iwas your _pal_?"

"Oh, Red, quit kiddin'. Don't you see I got orders? I got orders. "

"You're gettin' civilized fast, all right. The first thing civilizationdoes is to projooce hobos and bums. Then she turns up her nose becausehobos and bums ain't civilized. Did you ever see a ma cat get madbecause one of her kittens was born with sore eyes? I guess not. Catshas got sense. Now, what if I don't indignify myself to the extent ofcrawlin' under that line fence?"

"'Course I'll bring you the coin in the mornin'. But if you don't gonow, why, I got to quit this job. I got to play square to him. "

"So it's orders or me, eh?"

"Yes, Red, and I want to use you right, and be square, too. "

Overland Red's beard hid the quiver of his lips as he asked huskily:"And you would be comin' back on the road with your ole pal again? Youwould give up the job and the chance of a smile from that littleRose-Lady Girl and flew the coop with me again if I said the word?"

"Sure I would. You come first and the job comes second; but--but I wantto keep the job. "

Overland's keen blue eyes filled with instant emotion. "Oh, you go chasea snake up your sleeve. Do you think I'd bust your chances of makin'good here? Do you reckon I'd let a line fence stand between me and you, speakin' poetical? Say, I'll go camp in that sheriff gent's front yardif it'll do any good to you, or before I'll see you in bad with thelittle Rose Girl!"

"Please, Red; I mean it. "

"So do I. I'll fade quicker than spit on a hot stove. Don't forgetto-morrow mornin'. Some day I'll put you hep to how to ride. You betterget to your fence job. "

Brand Williams watched the man and the boy as they walked along theline-fence trail together. Collie leading the pony, the man talking andgesticulating earnestly. Finally they shook hands. The tramp crawledunder the fence. The boy mounted Baldy and rode away. 

Williams, catching up his own horse, spurred quickly across the ridgeabove the spring that the boy might not see him. 

CHAPTER IX

A CELESTIAL ENTERPRISE

Broad avenues of feathery pepper trees, long driveways between shadowyrows of the soldierly eucalyptus, wide lawns and gigantic palms of thesouthern isles, weaving pampas grass, gay as the plumes of romance, jasmine, orange-bloom, and roses everywhere. Over all is the eternalsunshine and noon breeze of the sea, graciously cooling. Roundabout is agirdle of far hills. 

Some old Spanish padre named it "Nuestra Señora Reina de Los Angeles, "making melody that still lures with its ancient charm. A city forangels, verily. A city of angels? Verily; some fallen, indeed, for thereis much nefarious trafficking in real estate, but all in all themajority of souls in Los Angeles are celestial bound, treading uponsunbeams in their pilgrimage. 

The plaza, round which the new town roars from dawn to dusk, is stillhaunted by a crumbling old adobe, while near it droop dusty pepper treesthat seem to whisper to each other endlessly--"Mañana! Mañana!" Whisperas did those swarthy vaqueros and the young, lithe, low-voicedseñoritas who strolled across the plaza in the dusk of by-gone days. "Mañana! Mañana!--To-morrow! To-morrow!"

And the to-morrows have come and gone as did those Spanish lovers, riding up through the sunshine on their silver-bitted pinto ponies andriding out at dusk with tinkling spur-chains into that long to-morrowthat has shrouded the ancient plaza in listless dreams. Mexicans inblack sombreros and blue overalls still prowl from cantina to cantina, but the gay vaquero and his señorita are no more. 

Overland Red, a harsh note in the somnolence of the place, steppedbuoyantly across the square. And here, if ever, Overland was at home. 

A swarthy, fat Mexican shaved him while a lean old rurale of Overland'searlier acquaintance obligingly accepted some pesos with which to drinkthe señor's health, and other pesos with which to purchase certainclothing for the señor. 

The retired rurale drove a relentless bargain with a countryman, returning with certain picturesque garments that Overland donned in theback room of the little circus-blue barber shop. 

The tramp had worthily determined to hold wise and remunerative conversewith the first Easterner that "looked good to him. " He would makehalf-truths do double duty. He needed money to purchase a burro, packs, canteen, pick, shovel, dynamite, and provisions. He intended to repaythe investor by money-order from some desert town as soon as he foundthe hidden gold. This unusual and worthy intention lent Overland addedassurance, and he needed it. Fortune, goddess evanishing and coy, waswith him for once. If he could but dodge the plain-clothes men longenough to outfit and get away. . . . 

The "Mojave Bar, " on North Main Street of the City of Angels was all butempty. Upon it the lassitude of early afternoon lay heavily. Thespider-legged music-racks of the Mexican string orchestra, the emptyplatform chairs, the deserted side-tables along the pictured wall, thehuge cactus scrawled over with pin-etched initials, --all the impedimentaof the saloon seemed to slumber. 

The white-coated proprietor, with elbows on the bar, gazed listlessly ata Remington night-scene--a desert nocturne with a shadowy adobe againstthe blue-black night, a glimmer of lamplight through a doorway, and inthe golden pathway a pony and rider and the red flash of pistol shots. 

Opposite the bartender, at a table against the wall, sat a young man, clad in cool gray. He smoked a cigarette, and occasionally sipped from atall glass. He was slender, clean-cut, high-colored, an undeniablepatrician. In his mild gray eyes, deep down, gleamed a latent humor, aninterior twinkling not apparent to the multitude. 

Sweeney Orcutt, the saloon-keeper, noticed this reserve characteristicnow for the first time, as the young man turned toward him. Sweeney wasa retired plain-clothes man with a record, and a bank account. It wassaid that he knew every crook from Los Angeles to New York. Be it added, to his credit, that he kept his own counsel--attending to his ownbusiness on both sides of the bar. 

"Do they ever do those things now?" queried the young man, noddingtoward the picture. 

Sweeney Orcutt smiled a thin-lipped smile. "Not much. Sometimes in Texasor Mexico. I seen the day when they did. "

The young man lazily crossed his legs. "Nice and cool here, " he remarkedpresently. 

"Been in town long?" asked Sweeney. 

"No, only a few days. "

"I was goin' to say there's a good show over on SpringStreet--movin'-pictures of the best ridin' and buckin' and ropin' I seenyet. "

"Yes? Is there any one in town who is not working for the movies?"

Again Sweeney Orcutt smiled his thin-lipped smile. "Yes, I guess thereis. I might scare up one or two I used to know who is workin' thetransients, which ain't exactly workin' _for_ the movies. "

"I should like to meet some character who is really doing something inearnest; that is, some cowboy, miner, prospector, teamster, --one ofthose twenty-mule-team kind, you know, --or any such chap. Why, even thereal estate men that have been up to my hotel seem to be acting a part. One expects every minute to see one of them pull a gun and hold up afellow. No doubt they mean business. "

"Bank on that, " said Orcutt dryly. 

"You see, " continued the young man, "I have too much time on my handsjust now. The doctors tell me to rest, and I've been doing nothing elseall my life. It's pretty monotonous. I've tried to get interested insome of the chaps on North Main Street, and around the plaza. I'veoffered to buy them drinks and all that, but they seem to shy off. Isuppose they think I'm a detective or something of that kind. "

"More like, a newspaper man after a story. Hello, there! Now, what'sdoin'?"

Outside near the curb a crowd had collected. A traffic officer wastalking to the driver of an automobile. As Sweeney Orcutt strolledtoward the doorway, Overland Red, clean-shaven, clothed in new corduroysand high lace boots, and a sombrero aslant on his stiff red hair, doveinto the saloon and called for a "bucket of suds. "

"Close--shave--Red--" whispered Orcutt. 

"Had me Orcutt, likewise, " replied the tramp. "Say, Sweeney, stall offthe Dick out there. I think he piped me as I blew in, but I ain't sure. He'll be pokin' in here in a minute. If he sees me talkin', --to the guythere, for instance, --and you give him a steer, he won't look too close. Sabe?" And Overland drank, observing the Easterner at the table over thetop of his glass. 

"They got that guy Overland Red mugged in every station from here toChicago, " whispered Orcutt. "Paper says he put it over a desert rat upnear Barstow. Did you hear about it?"

"Some, " replied Overland sententiously. 

"And did you hear about his last get-away on one of the Moonstone Ranchoponies? Some class to that!"

"I read somethin' about it, " replied Overland. 

"Well, Red, if you won't tumble, all I got to say is, beat it. You'reworth a thousand bucks to any fly-cop that nips you in this town. I'mhandin' you a little dope that you can slide out on and not get stuck. "

"Thanks, Sweeney. Well, I'll ring you up from Kalamazoo. "

"Kalamazoo? In them clothes?"

"Sure. There's a law against travelin' naked in some States. Where youbeen grazin' lately?"

"In the bull-pasture; and say, Red, it's gettin' warm there, for some. "

"Well, I guess I'll beat it, " said Overland. 

"Take a slant at the door first. "

Overland turned leisurely. In the doorway stood the traffic officer. Heglanced from Orcutt to the two men near the table. "Hello, Sweeney!" hecalled, glancing a second time at Overland. 

"Hello!" answered Sweeney, strolling to the end of the bar. "Somebodyspeedin'?"

"Yes. Say, who's the guy, the big one?"

"Him? Oh, that's Billy Sample, the fella that does the desert stuff forthe General Film Company. The kid is his pardner who acts thetenderfoot. They 're waitin' for the machine now to take 'em out toGlendale. Got some stunt to pull off this afternoon, so Billy wastellin' me. They're about half-stewed now. They make me sick. "

"Thought I saw the big guy out on the street a minute ago, " said theofficer, hesitating. "There's a card out for a fella that looks likehim. I guess--"

"He thought it was his machine comin', " said Orcutt. "He run out to see. It's a wonder how them movie actors can make up to look like mostanybody. Why, I been in your line of business, as you know, and I beenfooled lots of times. Makes a fella feel like he don't know where he'sat with the town full of them movin'-picture actors. "

"Well, so long, Sweeney. " And the traffic officer, a little afraid ofbeing laughed at by the famous ex-officer, Sweeney Orcutt, departed, just a thousand dollars poorer than he might have been had he had thecourage of his convictions. 

Overland and Orcutt exchanged glances. Orcutt's glance rested meaningly, for an instant, on the Easterner at the table. Overland grinned. Orcuttspoke to the young Easterner, who immediately rose to his feet andbowed. 

"You was lookin' for somebody that's the real thing, you said. Thishere's my friend Jack Summers. He used to be sheriff of Abilene once. Heain't workin' for a movin'-picture outfit and he won't borrow yourwatch. Mebby he has a little business deal to put up to you and mebbynot. Take my word for it, he's straight. "

"I'm William Winthrop, back East. 'Billy' will do here. I'm atenderfoot, but I'm not exactly a fool. I observed the delicacy withwhich you engineered the recent exodus of the policeman. I'minterested. "

"Sounds like plush to me, " said Overland. "I got a little time--notmuch. You're correct about the cop. I got a pretty good thing out inthe Mojave--gold--"

Winthrop laughed. "You aren't losing any time, are you?"

"You wouldn't neither if you was in my boots, " said Overland, grinningcheerfully. 

"Oh, Red's all right, " said Orcutt. "What'll you gents have?"

"Seein' I'm all right, Sweeney, I'll take five dollars in small change. I need the coin for entertainin' purposes, I'll pay you in the mornin'. "

"You got me that time, " said Orcutt. "Here's the coin. "

"Shall we sit down here?" asked Winthrop, indicating one of the tables. 

"Sure! Now this ain't no frame-up. No, I'll set where I can watchSweeney. He's like to steal his own cash-register if you don't watchhim. " And Winthrop noticed that his companion faced the door. He alsonoticed, as the man's coat brushed against a chair as he sat down, thatthat same coat covered a shiny black shoulder holster in which gleamedthe worn butt of an automatic pistol. 

"My real name is Jack Summers, " began Overland Red. "Some folks took tocallin' me 'Overland Red, ' seein' as I been some towerist in my time. "

"Great!" murmured the Easterner. "'Overland Red!' That name has mehypnotized. "

"You was sayin'?" queried Overland. 

"Beg your pardon. Nothing worth while. I haven't been so happy for ayear. Let me explain. I have a little money, pretty well invested. Ialso have lungs, I believe. The doctors don't quite agree about that, however. The last one gave me six months to live. That was a year ago. Iowe him an apology and six months. I'm not afraid, exactly, and I'mcertainly not glad. But I want to forget it. That's all. Go ahead aboutthat desert and the gold. I'm listening. "

CHAPTER X

"PERFECTLY HARMLESS LITTLE OLE TENDERFOOT"

William Stanley Winthrop woke next morning with a vague impression ofhaving lost something. He gazed indolently at the sunlight filteringthrough the curtains of his sleeping-room. Beyond the archway to theadjoining room of his suite, a ray of sunshine lay like living gold uponthe soft, rich-hued fabric of the carpet. 

"Gold!" he murmured. "Mojave Desert! Overland Red! Lost gold! No, itisn't the two hundred dollars I invested in the rascal's story, for itwas worth the money. I never spent four happier hours in my life, atfifty dollars an hour. The best of it is he actually made me believehim. I think he believed himself. "

Winthrop sat up in bed, yawning. "I think black coffee will be aboutall, this morning, " he murmured, as he dressed leisurely. 

He was tying a fastidiously correct bow on his tan oxford when hehappened to glance out of the window. It was early, altogether tooearly, he reflected, to appear in the breakfast-room of the hotel. Winthrop's indefinite soliloquy melted into the rapt silence ofimagination. Below on the smooth black pavement pattered two ladenburros. On their packs hung dusty, weatherworn canteens, a pick andshovel, and a rifle in its soiled and frayed scabbard. The sturdy, shaggy burros followed a little, lean old man, whose flop-brimmed hat, faded shirt, and battered boots told a tale of the outlands, whisperedof sun-swept immensities, of sage and cacti, sand and silence. Winthropdrew a long breath. Such an adventurer was the Overland Red he hadtalked with the evening previous. The tramp had mentioned a town far outon the desert. Winthrop sauntered down to the deserted office andsecured a timetable. 

When the east-bound express left Los Angeles the following morning, Winthrop was aboard, uncomfortably installed in the private drawing-roomof a sleeper. He had cheerfully paid the double fare that he might havethe entire space to himself, and he needed it. Around him, on the floor, in the seats, in the racks, and on the hooks were innumerable packages, bags, and bundles. 

"Very eccentric. He must be rich, " whispered the wife of a dry-goodsmerchant from Keokuk, as her husband pushed her ahead of him past thedoor of the drawing-room. 

"Just plain hog!" said the dry-goods merchant. "A man that'll paydouble fare to have the whole earth to himself when other folks has tobe packed into a berth and suffocate! The conductor said he paid doubleto Chicago to get that compartment, and he's only goin' out in thedesert a little ways. I'd 'a' took it myself. "

"Well, we could hardly afford it, anyway, " said the woman pleasantly. "We've had such a good time I don't mind sleeping in a berth, Hiram. "

They crowded on and finally found their seats. 

Winthrop smiled to himself. He liked the woman's voice. 

He lighted a cigarette and gazed wistfully, even despairingly, at the"outfit" which surrounded him. He sighed. "Awful accumulation ofplunder. Wonder what I'll do with it?"

As the train climbed the grade beyond San Bernardino, he grew restless. Flinging down his cigarette, he began unwrapping his belongings. Outcame blankets, extra clothing, a rifle, canteens of several patterns, two pack-saddles, a coil of rope, a pair of high lace boots, --hobnailed, heavy, and unserviceable, --a pocket compass, a hunting-knife, a patentfilter, two halters, two galvanized pails, a small, compact, silk tent, an axe, a fishing-rod, a rubber cup, a box of cigars, a bottle ofbrandy, several neckerchiefs, a cartridge-belt, a Colts revolver oflarge and aggressive caliber, cartridges, a prospector's pick, a shovel, a medicine-case, a new safety razor, a looking-glass, a clinicthermometer, and a copy of "Robinson Crusoe. "

He pondered over the agglomeration of articles pensively. "He was a goodsalesman, " he said, smiling. "I'll be either a juggler or a strong manbefore I'm through with these things. I think I'll begin now andre-pack. I'll make one glorious bundle of it. That's the ticket!"

Winthrop went to work, whistling cheerfully. He spread the blanket andrearranged his possessions, finally rolling them up into an uncertainbundle which he roped with the weird skill of the amateur packer. Hetried to lift the bundle to the opposite seat. He decided to leave it onthe floor. 

Over the grade and on the level of the desert the train gathered speed. The shimmering spaces revolved slowly, to meet the rushing track ahead. Hour after hour sat Winthrop, reading and occasionally glancing outacross the desert. His was the wildest of wild-goose chases. A strangerhad told him of a mysterious ledge of gold somewhere out on the desert, and the stranger had named a desert town--the town toward which Winthropwas journeying. Would the eccentric Overland Red be there? Winthrophoped so. He wanted to believe that this Ulysses of the outlands hadspoken truth. He imagined vividly Overland Red's surprise when oneWilliam Stanley Winthrop, late of New York, should appear, equipped tothe chin and eager to participate in the hunt for the lost gold. Thenagain, the prospector might not care to be burdened with thecompanionship of a tenderfoot. Still, the uncertainty of his welcomelent zest to Winthrop's enterprise. He closed the door of hisdrawing-room and wound through a mahogany maze toward the dining-car. 

 * * * * *

Next morning, as the train slowed down for the desert town, Winthrop wasin the vestibule, peering out anxiously. It did not occur to him thatOverland Red knew nothing of his coming, or that the other would bewaiting on the station platform if he did. The tramp had not thefaintest desire to make himself conspicuous. Some of Winthrop'senthusiasm had evaporated during the hot night in the sleeper. 

"Thank you very much, " called the lady from Keokuk, Iowa. 

"Don't mention it, " said Winthrop, disembarking behind the porter withhis "plunder. " Then, as the Pullman slid away, Winthrop deliberately andgracefully threw a kiss to the dry-goods merchant's wife. "Nice littlewoman, " he reflected. "Too nice to associate with that grampus. Well, Ihope they'll enjoy the rest of the trip in the drawing-room. I'm glad Iwas able to arrange it. "

He watched the train crawl down the track. He wondered how long he wouldbe able to distinguish the pattern of the brasswork on the observationcar-rail. 

Out of the empty distance came the _click_, _clink_, _clank_ of hammersand shovels as the section-men, a mile down the track, stepped into workbehind the train. 

"Prospectin'?" queried a lank individual, slouching up to Winthrop. 

"A little, " said Winthrop. "It's pretty dry work. "

"Uhuh. It's goin' to be hot about noon. "

"I suppose so. Will you kindly give me a hand with this monstrosity, "said Winthrop, indicating the pack. "The agent seems to be busy. "

"Sure! She ain't roped very tight. "

Which proved to be true. The bundle, with a kind of animateindifference, slowly sagged, opened, and things began to trickle from itin its journey across the platform. Among the things was the bottle ofbrandy. The lank individual picked this up tenderly and set it to oneside. Winthrop noticed his solicitude, and smiled. 

"We can rope 'em up again, " said the lank one, suddenly becomingenthusiastic. "My name's Jim Hicks. I'm constable here. "

"I see. Well, I'm William Winthrop, from Los Angeles. I'm a naturalist. Will you accept a cigar?"

"Thanks. You want to pack this here bottle, too?"

"Not right away. Whew! It is getting hot. "

"Goin' up to the hotel?" queried the constable. 

Winthrop glanced along the street. The hotel did not look inviting. "Idon't know. I'd like to get in the shade somewhere. "

"There's old Fernando's 'dobe down the track under them pepper trees. He's a friend of mine. He ain't to home to-day. Mebby you'd like to setdown there and wait for your friend. "

"My friend?"

"Why, ain't you waitin' for anybody? You ain't goin' to tackle thatbug-huntin' trip alone, be you? It's dangerous out there for atenderfoot. Now I have took folks out, and brought 'em back allright, --gone as far as them hills over there, and that's a good jag fromhere, --and I only charge four dollars a day and grub. "

"I thought you said you were constable?"

"So I be. Takin' parties across the desert is on the side. How far youfigurin' on goin'?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet. Say we go down as far as the adobe youspoke about, as a beginning. Perhaps we can arrange terms. "

"I'm on, pard, " said the constable. 

 * * * * *

Under the pepper trees shading Fernando's adobe sat Winthrop and theconstable. The brandy-bottle was half empty and a box of cigars was openbeside it on the bench. The afternoon shadows were lengthening. Theconstable had been discursive, voluminous, in his entertaining. Time wasas nothing. He borrowed generously of to-morrow and even the next day. He became suddenly quite fond of this quiet, gentlemanly chap oppositehim, who said little, but seemed to be a prince of good fellows. 

"'S this way, " said the constable, leaning forward and waving his cigar. "You're fren' of mine--sure thing. 'S af'ernoon now, but I was plumbfooled this mornin'. Y' know i's af'ernoon now. Thought you was the guyI'm lookin' for. H'overlan' Red--bum--tram'. Wire from Loshangeles toupperan' him if he shows up here. See?"

"You're not quite clear to me, " replied Winthrop. "But never mind aboutapprehending any one. Let's talk about this glorious prospect of sand, silence, and solitude. I feel like a fallen angel. Never mind aboutarresting anybody. Life is too short. Let's talk of roses. "

"Roshes! Huh!" sniggered the constable. "You're kin' of sof, ain't you?Roshes nothin'! I'm goin' talk 'bout business. It's business, mybusiness to talk 'bout it, see? 'T ain't your business. You c'n lissen, an' when I get through, then you c'n talk roshes. "

"But what is your business?" asked Winthrop, with an indifference thathe did not feel. 

"S-s-s-h-h! I'm cons'able. Tha's on the quiet. Thousand dollars rewar'f'r th' appr'enshun of 'Verlan' Red. Thought you was him--hic--hee!hee!"

"Please don't laugh like that. It hurts my feelings, " said Winthrop. "Itis bad enough to be taken for a--er--tramp. "

"Nobody's feelin's--pologishe. '_Course_ you ain' him! You're jus' ali'l' ole ten'erfoot--perfec'ly harmless li'l' ole ten'erfoot. "

"Thanks. May I ask you to have another?"

"Nope. 'Nough's 'nough. 'S time f'r dinner. "

"Nearly. Well, if you flatly refuse to drink my health, I'll have todrink it alone, and that's rather egotistical, isn't it?"

"Never. B' Gosh! You're sport. Funny li'l' ole ten'erfoot--perf'lyharmless. Sure, I'll drink all th' health you got, 'n then gohome--dinner. "

"One will be sufficient, I think, " said Winthrop. 

"Sufficen' wha'?" And the constable leered cunningly. 

"To drown all pangs. Well, here's pleasant dreams. "

Far down the line came the faint thrill of wheels and the distant, clear-cut blast of a locomotive. The local freight from Los Angeles waswhistling for the "block. "

Winthrop glanced at his watch, then at the constable. "What train isthat?" asked the Easterner. 

The constable's eyelids drooped, then opened languidly. "Railro' train, 'f course. " And he slid forward to his elbow and thence to the bench. Presently he snored. 

Winthrop strolled toward the approaching train. "Pretty stiff session, "he commented. "Now if happy chance should bring Overland Red on thisfreight, with his burro and outfit; I'll have one reason to offer forwanting to go with him. I've probably saved him some annoyance, indirectly, but rather effectively, I think. "

The great oil-burning locomotive roared in, casting heat-waves thatsmelled of steam, iron, and mechanical energy. The hot air sickenedWinthrop. 

A car was cut out and shunted to a siding. Then the engine, pausing todrink a gargantuan draught at the tank, simmered away in the dusk, clanking across the switch-points. A figure leaped from the freight-carto the ground. Then out came a burro and several bundles. The figurestrode to the station and filled two canteens. Winthrop walked towardthe burro. When he of the burro and canteens returned, he found Winthropstroking the little animal's nose. 

"What the--! How the--! Who lost you out here?" asked Overland. 

Winthrop spoke rapidly and to the point. "Express this morning. Lonesomeagain. Thought I'd make a change. My outfit is over at the station. Don't say 'No' before you hear me. You're going to need me--tenderfeetand all. "

"But you can't--"

"Wait. The local constable has a wire from the Los Angeles police tolook out for you. Perhaps you got this far because you're traveling in afreight-car. No doubt all the passenger trains have been watched allalong the line. The constable has been my--er--my guest since morning. He is asleep now. I had to do it. He told me, after either the sixth orseventh glass, I forget which, that he was looking for you. Come on overto the station and inspect my outfit, please. I think we had bettervanish. "

Overland breathed once, deeply. "Lead me to it!" he exclaimed. "You gotmy number. I guess you're some lame chicken, eh? No? I'll never call youa tenderfoot as long as I live. Shake!"

The inspection of the outfit was brief. "Take the Colts and thecartridges, and the blankets and the rope. T' hell with the rest. "

CHAPTER XI

DESERT LAW

Away out in the night of stars and silence plodded the patient burro, and beside him shuffled Overland Red and Billy Winthrop. 

"We'll fool 'em, " said Overland. "Keep joggin'. We'll be over the rangebefore mornin'. Then let 'em find us. "

Winthrop, staggering along, felt his moral stamina crumbling within him. "I don't know--about that. Perhaps I'll be a drag to the expedition. I'mpretty tired. "

Overland, experienced in the remorse that follows liquor on an emptystomach, swore vigorously and picturesquely. "You'll stick! Do yousuppose I'd shake you now after you overcomin' a genuine nickel-plateddesert constable? Nix. That ain't my style. You believed me when I saidI was comin' to this particular town. It's worth somethin' to have afella around that believes a fella once in a while. But what I want toknow is, why you done up the constable so offhand like, not knowin'whether I'd show up here or not?"

"Why?" And Winthrop smiled wanly. "Because I'm a perfectly harmlesslittle old tenderfoot. " And his voice caught as he tried to laugh. 

An hour of plodding through the dusk, two hours, and they were at awater-hole near the northern hills. Overland unroped one of the packs, made a fire, and presently had some hot coffee for his companion, whowas pretty well used up. Nature was taking inexorable toll for hisconquest of the constable. 

"You take it easy and don't worry, " said Overland. 

Winthrop raised on his elbow and gazed at the tiny fire. "Tiger, tigerburning bright!" he quoted. 

"This here coffee'll fix you right, " responded Overland Red, grinning. "Didn't know I was a pote, did you? Now if I was a doc, I'd give you ashot in the arm that would put you to sleep. Seein' I ain't, it's coffeefor yours. "

"Do you think they will follow us?" Winthrop asked presently. 

"As sure as snakes, " said Overland. "And this here water-hole is thefirst place they'll strike for. They'll wait till mornin' to find ourtrail. "

"When they do find it?"

"I'll show 'em a Mexican trick with a hole in it. You go to sleep, pardner. "

 * * * * *

The moon rolled down to the rim of the world. The infinitesimalmountain peaks rose slowly along the lower edge of the flat silvershield, black and growing bolder in outline and size as they blottedhalf, three quarters, finally all of the burnished radiance. Then alongthe edge of the far range ran an instant delicate light, a light thatmelted into space and was gone, leaving a palpitating glory of myriadsummer stars. 

The little fire died down. The barren outland wastes slumbered in thecharitable dusk of night. 

Overland, cross-legged on his blanket, smoked moodily. His thoughtsdrifted out on the tide of silence to Moonstone Cañon and Collie and theRose Girl, Louise Lacharme. For them he planned impossibly. Of them hedreamed absurd dreams. 

Out of the flotsam of his pondering came memories of other nights suchas this, desert nights on the border ranges of old Mexico--that lostworld of his adventurous youth. Mingled with his waking dreams were thesounds of many familiar names--Sonora, Trevino, Nueva Laredo, Nava, SanJosé, Las Cruces, Nogales, Yuma, San Antonio, --each a burning ember ofmemory that glowed and faded while the music of silver strings andsinging girls pulsed rhythmically in the stillness--to break at lastinto the querulous wailing of a lone coyote. Winthrop stirred restlesslyand muttered. 

All at once the tramp realized that this easygoing young Easterner, wealthy, unused to hardship, delicate of health, had his battle tofight, as well. "I've knowed 'em to get over it, " reflected Overland. "She's high and dry up here on the desert, and I reckon to go where it'shigher. He's game, but he's desp'rate. He's tryin' to dodge the verdict, which can't be did. Well, if excitement will help any, I guess he'sridin' the right range. If he's got to pass over, he might as well goquick. Mebby he's the best kind of a pal for this deal, after all. "

Overland looked across at the muffled form. "Pardner!" he called. Winthrop did not answer. 

"Well, it saves explainin', " muttered the tramp, and he rose quietly. Hegathered the few camp-utensils together, rolled his blankets, brushedsand over the embers of the fire, and groped stealthily toward theburro. He roped the pack, glancing back toward the water-holeoccasionally. Winthrop slept heavily. 

"Guess I'll go back and get that gun, " muttered Overland. "I might needtwo; anyway, he might wake up and plug his old friend the constablebefore he knowed it. I ain't givin' a whoop for the constable, but Idon't want to see the kid get in wrong. "

Then Overland, wily and resourceful in border tactics, led the burroround the camp in a wide circle, from which he branched toward the hillsto the north. For two hours he journeyed across the starlit emptiness. Arriving at a narrow cañon in the foothills, he picketed the burro. Thenhe sat down. Why not continue with his pack and provisions? He couldcamp in the fastness of the mountain country and explore it alone. Hewould run less risk of capture. Winthrop was not strong. The Easternermeant well enough, but this was the desert. 

The blue of the eastern horizon grew shallower, changing to a cold thingray which warmed slowly to the straw color of tempering steel. Thetramp, watching the sky, shook his clenched fist at the dawn. "You, upthere!" he growled. "You didn't give me a square deal when I was downand out that time--in Sonora. I had to crawl to it alone. But I'll showyou that I'm bigger than you. I'm goin' back to the tenderfoot and seehim through if I swing pole-high for it. "

It was light when the tramp had arrived at the water-hole. He creptbehind a sharp dip in the hummocks. The crest of his hiding-place wascovered with brush. It was a natural rifle-pit affording him seclusionand shelter. 

With the sun came the faint thud of hoofs as two riders came warily upto the water-hole. One dismounted and stooped over Winthrop. The othersat his horse, silent, vigilant, saturnine. 

"Say, where's your pal, that there Overland Red guy?" asked theconstable, shaking Winthrop awake and glaring at him with a bleared andbaleful eye. 

The man on the horse frowned, considering, in the light of hisexperience as a successful and still living two-gun man, that suchtactics were rather crude. 

The Easterner sat up, coughed and blinked in the dawn. "Where is what?Why, good-morning! You're up early. " And his eye swept the empty camp. So Overland Red had deserted him, after all. He might have expected asmuch. "I haven't any 'pal, ' as you can see. I'm out here studying insectlife, as I told you I would be, yesterday. You needn't shake me anymore. I'm awake. I can't say that I'm exactly pleased with my firstspecimen. "

"Oh! I'm a specimen, am I? I'm a insect, hey? Well, you're crooked, andyou just talk up quick or the calaboose for yours!"

"No. I beg your pardon--but, no. You are in no condition, this morning, to talk with a gentleman. However, you are my guest. Have a cigar?"

The horseman's eyes twinkled. He admired the young Easterner'scoolness. Not so the constable. 

"See here, you swindlin' tin-horn shell-shover, you cough up whereOverland Red is or there'll be somethin' doin'. You doped that boozeyesterday, but you can't throw no bluff like that to-day. "

"I did what? Please talk slowly. "

"You doped that booze you--"

Much to the constable's surprise he found himself sitting on Winthrop'sblankets and one of his eyes felt as though some one had begun to stitchit up quickly with coarse thread. 

Winthrop, smiling serenely, nodded. "Sorry to have to do it. I know Idon't look like that kind, and I'm not, but I happen to know how. "

The constable got to his feet. 

"I didn't doctor the brandy, as you intimated, " said Winthrop. "And youneedn't finger that belt of yours. I haven't a gun with me, and Ibelieve it is not the thing for one man to use a gun on another whenthe--er--victim happens to be unarmed. "

The horseman, who had courage, admired Winthrop's attitude. He rodebetween them. "Cut it out, Hicks, " he said. "You're actin' locoed. Guessyou're carryin' your load yet. I'll talk to the kid. We 're losing time. See here, stranger. . . . "

Overland, watching and listening from his hiding-place, grinned as theconstable sullenly mounted his horse. 

Winthrop politely but firmly declined to acknowledge that he had had acompanion. Overland was pleased and the riders were baffled by the youngman's subtle evasion of answering them directly. 

"Size of it is, you're stung, " said the man who had questioned Winthroplast. "He's lit out, now he's done you. "

To this the Easterner made no reply. 

The horsemen rode away, following the circle of burro tracks toward thehills. Winthrop watched them, wondering what had become of hiscompanion. He could hardly believe that the tramp had deserted him, yetthe evidence was pretty plain. Even his revolver was gone, and his beltand cartridges. Winthrop yawned. He was hungry. There was no food. Butthere was water. He walked toward the water-hole. 

"Stand still--and listen, " said a voice. 

Winthrop jumped back, startled and trembling. The voice seemed to comefrom the water-hole at his feet. 

"Over here--this way, " the voice said. 

Winthrop smiled. If it were a disembodied spirit talking, it was noother than the spirit of Overland Red. The accent was unmistakable. TheEasterner glanced round and observed a peculiar something behind thebrush edging the rise beyond the water-hole. 

"It's me, " said Overland, still concealed. "Thought I quit you, eh? Arethem fellas out of sight yet?"

"No. They're still in sight. They are too far to see anything, though. "

"And you can see them all right, son? That don't figure out correct. "

Winthrop laughed. "That's so. Where's the burro?"

"He's hid--right in plain sight up a little arroyo. "

"Won't they find him, and confiscate him and the things?"

"Not on your life! 'T ain't exactly healthy, even for constables, to goround confiscatin' outfits they don't know who's connected with. Theycan't say for sure that burro and stuff is mine. They'll look it overand leave it right there. "

"But why did you come all the way back here?" asked Winthrop. 

"Seein' they's lots of time, I'll explain. If I had kep' on goin', theywould 'a' trailed me, and mebby got a crack at me in them hills. Theyare two to one, and they could get me at night. Now they'll either giveit up, or spot my back tracks and find me here. That's all. "

"Perhaps that won't be all, " ventured Winthrop, walking toward the ridgewhere Overland lay concealed. 

The tramp grinned up at him. "Mebby not, pardner. You was tellin'Sweeney Orcutt back in Los Angeles that you wanted to get up against thereal thing. I reckon you bought the right ticket this trip. "

"Will they--will there be any shooting?" asked the Easterner. 

"Not if I can help it, " replied Overland. "I borrowed your gun on thechance of it. 'Course, if they get sassy, why, they's no tellin' whatwill happen. I'm mighty touchy about some things. But listen! I'm actin'as your travelin' insurance agent, pro temperly, as the pote says, whichmeans keepin' your temper. If they do spot me, and get foolish enough tothink that I got time to listen to any arguments against my rights as afree and unbranded citizen of the big range, why, you drop and rollbehind the first sand-hill that is a foot high. After the smoke blowsaway, I'll be dee-lighted to accept your congratulations. "

"I guess you mean business, " said Winthrop, becoming serious. "I'm game, but isn't there any other way out of it?"

"Not for me, son. What chance would I have with the whole desert town toswear against me? They're after the gold, and they reckon to scare meinto tellin' where it is. I'm after that same gold, and I don't reckonto be bluffed off by a couple of pikers like them. "

"The dark one, the man on the bay horse, seemed to be a prettycapable-looking individual, " said Winthrop. 

"Glad you noticed that. You're improvin'. He is a capable gent. He's aold two-gun man. Did you see how he had his guns tied down low so theywould pull quick. Nothin' fancy about him, but he's good leather. Theother one don't count. "

"What shall I do when they come back?"

"You jest go to studyin' bugs or rattlesnakes or tarantulas orsomethin'. Make a bluff at it. If they ask you anything, answer 'em niceand polite, _and so I can hear_. A whole pile depends on my keepin' upwith the talk. I'll figure from what they say, or don't say. "

"They seem to be turning. They've stopped. One of them is down on theground looking at something. Now he's up again. They're riding back, "said Winthrop. 

"They cut my back trail, " said Overland, snuggling down behind thebrush. "You go and set down by the water-hole and find a bug to study. "

"Are you going to fight?"

"Not if it can be helped. Otherwise--till me wires are down and me lampsare out. She's desert law out here. They seems to be some chance for aargument about who's goin' to be judge. I'm out for the job myself. Ireckon to throw about fifteen votes--they's six in your gun and nine inthe automatic. The election is like to be interestin' and close. "

"I wish I could help, " said the Easterner. 

"You can--by keepin' your nerve, " replied Overland. Then he rolled acigarette and lay smoking and gazing at the sky. Winthrop watched theapproaching horsemen. Presently he got up and sauntered to thewater-hole. 

The tramp lay curled like a snake behind the mound. He drew Winthrop'sgun from its holster and inspected it, shaking his head as he slid itback again. "She's new and will pull stiff. That means she'll throw tothe right. Well, I got the little Gat. To open up the show with. "

William Stanley Winthrop, despite his resolution, found that his handstrembled and that his heart beat chokingly. He wanted to shout, to runout toward the horsemen, to do anything rather than sit stupidly silentby the water-hole. 

The two riders loped up. The constable dismounted. "Nothin' doin', " hesaid, stooping to drink. 

"No. Nothing doing, " echoed the man on horseback. 

"That, " muttered Overland Red, squirming a little higher behind thebushes, "was intended for me. I know that tone. It means there's a hellof a lot doin'. Well, I'm good and ready. " And he lifted both of hisred, hairy hands to the edge of the hole and both his hands were"filled. "

About then the man on the pony began to ride out from the water-hole ina wide circle. The constable came from the spring. Overland noticed thathe kept Winthrop between himself and the sage on the ridge. "Thatsettles it, " Overland swiftly concluded. "They're on. I'm right sad tohave to do it. "

The heavy, space-blunted report of the circling horseman's gun--andOverland calmly spat out the sand that flitted across his lips. Therider had ventured a shot and had ridden behind a ridge instantly. 

Winthrop exclaimed at these strange tactics. 

"He seen a jack run in there, " explained the constable, leering. 

"This here's gettin' interestin', " mumbled Overland as the constableunholstered his gun and sauntered toward the ridge. "I got to get thegent on the cayuse. The other one don't count. "

The rider had appeared from behind the ridge. Slowly Overland raisedhis right hand. Then the old fighting soul of Jack Summers, sheriff ofAbilene, rebelled. "No! Dam' if I'll ambush any white man. " And heleaped to his feet. "Overland Limited!" he shouted, and with hisbattle-cry came the quick tattoo of shots. The horseman wavered, doubledup, and pitched forward to the sand. 

Overland Red dropped and rolled to one side as the constable's gunboomed ineffectually. The tramp lay still. 

A clatter of empty stirrups, the swish of a horse galloping past, andsilence. 

Slowly the constable approached Overland's prostrate figure. "Time's upfor you!" he said, covering the tramp with his gun. 

"Water!" groaned Overland. 

"Water, eh? Well, crawl to it, you rat!"

Winthrop, his heart thumping wildly, followed the constable. So this wasdesert law? No word of warning or inquiry, but a hail of shots, ariderless horse, --two men stretched upon the sand and the burning sunswinging in a cloudless circle above the desolate silence. 

"You seem to kind of recognize your friend now, " sneered the constable. 

That was too much for Winthrop's overstrung nerves. His pulses roared inhis ears. With a leap he seized the constable's gun and twisted at itwith both hands. There was an explosion, and Winthrop grinned savagely, still struggling. With insane strength he finally tore the gun from theother's grasp. "You're the only coward in this affair, " he gasped, as helevelled the gun at the constable. That officer, reading danger inWinthrop's eye, discreetly threw up his hands. 

"Good!" exclaimed Overland, sitting up suddenly. "That was risky, but itworked out all right. I had a better plan. You go set down, Billy. I'llsee this gent safe toward home. "

Winthrop laughed hysterically. "Why, you--you--you're a joke!" he cried. "I thought--"

"So did the little man with the pie-pan pinned on his shirt, " saidOverland. "You keep his gun. I got to see how bad the other gent's hit. "

An hour later the constable of the desert town led his pony toward therailroad. On the pony was his companion, with both arms bandaged. Heleaned forward brokenly, swaying and cursing. "I'll--get him, if ittakes--a thousand years, " he muttered. 

"I reckon it'll take all of that, " growled the constable. "You can haveall you want of his game, Saunders, --I'm through. "

Out by the water-hole, Overland turned to Winthrop. "I'm glad youenjoyed the performance, " he said, grinning. "We've opened the pot andthe best man rakes her down. She's desert law from now to the finish. "

CHAPTER XII

"FOOL'S LUCK"

Gaunt, unshaven, weary, Winthrop rested on the crest of the northernrange. Overland, looking for water, toiled on down the slope with thelittle burro. Winthrop rose stiffly and shuffled down the rocks. Nearthe foot of the range he saw the burro just disappearing round a bend ina cañon. When he came up with Overland, the tramp had a fire going andhad pitched the tent. The cañon opened out to a level green meadow, through which ran a small stream. They had come a long day's journeyfrom the water-hole on the other side of the range. They were safe fromordinary pursuit. That evening beside the fire, Overland Red told againthe story of the dead prospector, the gold, and the buried papers. Inhis troubled slumbers the Easterner dreamed of pacing along the trackcounting the ties, and eventually digging in the sand, digging until hisvery soul ached with the futility of his labor. Waking, he never lostfaith in the certainty of finding the place. He now knew the tramp wellenough to appreciate that the other had not risked his own life andnearly killed one of his pursuers through sheer bravado, or fear, orpersonal hatred. Something more potent was beneath the tramp'smotives--some incentive that was almost a religion. So far, Winthrop wascorrect. He erred, however, in supposing Overland to be obsessed with amania for gold for its own sake. The erstwhile sheriff of Abilene haddreamed a dream about an adopted waif and a beautiful young girl. Thedream was big. Its fulfillment would require much money. There was moreof the poet in Overland Red than his best friend had ever imagined. 

Three days they rested in the wild seclusion of the cañon. The silence, the solemnity of the place, fascinated Winthrop. The tiny stream, coldand clear, the vegetation, in a region otherwise barren-gray andburning, --the arid Mojave with its blistering heat, the trees, thepainted rocks, --ochre, copper, bronze, red, gray, and dim lilac in thedistances, --the gracious shade, the little burro, half ludicrous, halfpathetic in its stolid acceptance of circumstances, --all had a charm forhim that soothed and satisfied his restlessness. 

Meanwhile the indefatigable Overland spun yarn after yarn of the roadand range, and rolled innumerable cigarettes with one hand, much toWinthrop's amusement. 

The third morning Winthrop had awakened feeling so completely refreshedthat he begged Overland to allow him to make an attempt to find thehidden papers and the little bag of gold. Overland demurred at first, fearing that the Easterner would become lost or stricken with the heat. Throughout the day Winthrop argued stubbornly that he ran no risk ofcapture, while Overland did. He asserted that he could easily find thewater-hole, which was no difficult task, and from there he could go bycompass straight out to the tracks. Overland had told him that somewherenear a little culvert beneath the track was the marked tie indicatingthe hiding-place of the dead prospector's things. It would mean ajourney of a day and a night, traveling pretty continuously. 

Finally Overland agreed to Winthrop's plan to make the attempt thefollowing day. 

 * * * * *

At the foot of the range Overland gave his companion a canteen and apiece of gunnysack wrapped round some hardtack and jerked beef. 

"Don't I need my gun this time?" queried Winthrop. 

"Nope, Billy. 'Cause why? You don't generally kill a little gopher or alittle owl that's settin' up tendin' to his business, because you ain'tscared of them. But you will go off of the trail to kill a rattler, aside-winder, because he's able to kill you if he takes a notion. Correct. Now a tenderfoot totin' a gun is dangerouser than any rattlerthat ever hugged hisself to sleep in the sun--and most fellas travelin'the desert knows it. Why, I'm plumb scared of a gun-totin' tenderfoot, myself. Not havin' a gun will be your best recommend, generallyspeakin'. Stick to the bugs, Billy; stick to the bugs. "

"Well, you ought to know. "

"I got seven puckers in my hide to prove what I say. Six of 'em were putthere by plumb amachoors in the gun line; fellas I never took pains todraw on quick, never suspectin' nothin'. The other, number seven, wasput there by a gent that meant business. He died of a kind of leadpoisonin' right immediate. "

They shook hands, the battered, sunburned adventurer, rough-bearded, broad-chested, genial with robust health, and the slender, almostdelicately fashioned Easterner, who had forgotten that there were suchthings as lungs, or doctors, --for the time being. 

"Say, Billy, you need a shave, " commented Overland, as the other turnedto begin his journey across the desert. 

Winthrop grinned. "You need--er--decapitating, " he retorted, glancingback. Then he faced the south and strode away. 

Overland, ascending the range, paused halfway up. "Decap-itating, " hemuttered. "Huh! That's a new one on me. De-cap--Let's see! Somethin' todo with a fella's hat, I reckon. It's easy to run a word down and holeit if you got brains. Mebby Billy meant for me to get a new one. Well, the constable's friend only put one hole in her--she's a pretty good hatyet. "

 * * * * *

Overland found his slow way back to the hidden cañon. He felt a littlelonely as he thought of Collie. He gave the burro some scraps of campbread, knowing that the little animal would not stray so long as he wasfed, even a little, each day. 

It was while he was scouring the fry-pan that he noticed the black sandacross the stream. Leisurely he rose and scooped a panful of the sandand gravel and began washing it, more as a pastime than with an idea offinding gold. Slowly he oscillated the whispering sand, slopping thewater out until he had panned the lot. He spread his bandanna on asmooth rock and gently emptied the residue of the washing on it. "Color--but thin, " he said. "Let's try her again. "

He moved farther upstream--this time with one of his regular pans. Hebecame absorbed in his experiment. He washed panful after panful, slowly, carefully, collectedly. Suddenly he stood up, swore softly, andflung the half-washed dirt of the last pan on the rocks. "I'm a nut!"he exclaimed. "This livin' in civilization has been puttin' my intellec'to the bad. Too much Eastern sassiety. " And with this inexplicableself-arraignment he stooped at the tent-door, buckled on his gun, andstarted upstream. He glanced from side to side of the steep andnarrowing walls as he advanced slowly. He passed places where the streamdisappeared in the sand to find some subterranean channel and reappearbelow again. Rounding an angle of the cliff, he dropped to his knees andexamined some tiny parallel scratches on a rounded rock--the marks madeby a boot-heel that had slipped. For an hour he toiled over the rocks onup the diminishing stream. "Gettin' thin, " he muttered, gazing at thesilver thread of water rippling over the pebbles. A few feet ahead thecliffs met at the bottom in a sharp-edged "V, " not over a foot apart inthe stream-bed, but widening above. Overland scrambled through. On theother side of the opening he straightened up, breathing hard. His handcrept to his hip. On a sandy level a few yards ahead of him stood aragged and faded canvas tent, its flap wavering idly in a breath ofwind. In front of the tent was the rain-washed charcoal of an old fire. A rusted pan, a pick, and the worn stub of a shovel lay near the stream. A box marked "Dynamite" was half-filled with odds and ends of emptytins, cooking-utensils, and among the things was a glass fruit-jar halffilled with matches. 

Slowly Overland's hand dropped to his side. He stepped forward, stooped, and peered into the tent. "Thought so, " he said laughing queerly. Savefor a pair of old quilts and an old corduroy coat, the place was empty. 

"Fool's luck, " muttered Overland. "Wonder the Gophertown outfit didn'tfind him and fix him. But come to think of it, they ain't so anxious tocross over to this side of the range and get too clost to a real town, and get run in or shot up. Fool's luck, " he reiterated, coolly rolling acigarette and gazing about with a critical eye. "They's another trailinto this cañon that the prospector knowed. I got to find it. Billy'llbe some interested. "

CHAPTER XIII

THE RETURN

Overland Red lay concealed in an arroyo at the foot of the range. Hecould overlook the desert without being seen. It was the afternoon ofthe day following Winthrop's departure. 

Since discovering the dead prospector's camp and all that it meant, thetramp was doubly vigilant. He tried to believe that his anxiety was forhis own safety rather than for Winthrop's. He finally gave up that idea, grumbling something about becoming "plumb soft in his feelin's since hetook to associatin' with sassiety folks. " However, had Winthrop been ofthe West and seasoned in its more rugged ways, Overland would havethought little of the young man's share in recent events. While he knewthat Winthrop looked upon their venture as nothing more than a ratherkeenly exciting game, Overland realized also that the Easterner hadplayed the game royally. Perhaps the fact that Winthrop's health was notof the best appealed to some hidden sentiment in the tramp's peculiarnature. In any event, Overland Red found himself strangely solicitousfor his companion's return. 

Far in the south a speck moved, almost imperceptibly. The tramp's keeneyes told him that this was no horseman. He rolled a cigarette and layback in the shade of a boulder. "He's a couple of points off his course, but he can't miss the range, " he reflected. 

Desiring to assure himself that no horseman followed Winthrop, OverlandRed made no sign that might help the other to find the trail over therange. The rim of Winthrop's hat became distinguishable; then the whitelacing of his boots. Nearer, Overland saw that his face was drawn andset with lines of fatigue. 

No riders appeared on the horizon. Overland stepped out from behind therock. "Well, how did you make it?" he called. 

Winthrop came forward wearily "No luck at all. "

"Couldn't find it, eh?"

"I counted every tie between the tank and that little ditch under thetrack. The entire stretch has been relaid with new ties. "

Overland whistled. Then he grinned. "You had a good healthy walk, anyhow, " he observed. 

"It doesn't seem to worry you much, " said Winthrop. 

"Nope. Now you're back, it don't. I reckon you done your dam'dest asthe song says. Angels can do no less. Buck up, Billy! You 're limper'n asecond-hand porous-plaster. Here, take a shot at this. That will stiffenyour knees some. Did you meet up with anybody?"

"Not a soul. I thought I should freeze last night, though. I didn'timagine the desert could get so cold. "

"Livin' out here on the old dry spot will either kill you or cure you. That's one reason I let you go look for them things. The harder you hitthe trail, and can stand it, the quicker you'll get built up. " ThenOverland, realizing that his companion was worse than tired, that he wasdispirited, became as wily as the proverbial serpent. His method, however, could hardly be compared with the dove's conciliatory cooing. "You sure are a bum scout, " he began. 

Winthrop flushed, but was silent. 

"Bet a banana you didn't even leave the track and look for it. "

"No, I didn't. Where could I have begun?"

Overland ignored the question. "I'm hungrier than a gorilla. Just send awireless to them feet of your'n. We got some climbin' to do afore dark. "

"I'd just as soon camp here. Go up to-morrow, " said Winthrop. 

"So'd I if it wasn't for bein' scared some of the hills would mosey offbefore I got back. " And Overland set a brisk pace up the mountain, talking as he climbed. Winthrop could do nothing but listen. He wasbreathless. 

"Or that cañon, " continued Overland. "She might not be there if westayed away all night. Besides, I'm scared to leave _it_ alone byitself. "

"Leave what?" gasped Winthrop. 

"It. The find I made while you was out surveyin' the Santa Fé. I wasfeared you'd get nervous prosecution if I told you all to once, so Ibreaks it easy like. "

"What was it?"

"Nothin' but a tent in the cañon we're campin' in. But, Billy, when youfind a tent and some minin' tools and other signs of trouble 'way upsome lonesome old slot in the hills, you want to get ready for asurprise. Mebby it'll be nothin' but some old clothes and bones. Mebbyit'll be them and somethin' else. I didn't find the bones, but I foundthe somethin' else, coarse, and fair dribblin' thick in the dirt. It'sthere and rich, Billy, rich!"

Overland Red turned and paused as Winthrop leaned against a rock. 

"It's the--the real thing?" queried the Easterner. 

"The real thing, pardner. Now what do you think of that for highbrowstuff?"

"Meaning that you stumbled on the secret?"

"If you want to say it that way, yes. Just like fallin' into a sewer andfindin' a gold watch where you lit. "

"Then it's all true? We've found the gold? You really believed weshould, and for that matter, so did I. I can't say why. I rather feltthat we should. "

"I guess I'm some class when it comes to findin' the incubator thathatches them little yella babies with the come-and-find-me eyes. "

Winthrop straightened his tired shoulders. "You seem to think thatyou're pretty clever, " he said, laughing. "But in the elegant andexpressive diction of the late--the late Overland Red Summers, 'I thinkyou're a bum scout. '" And they shook hands, laughing as they turned toclimb the trail. 

Near the crest, Overland again paused. "Say, Billy, you said the 'late'Overland Red Summers. You took particular noise to make me hear thatword 'late. ' Have you got any objections to explainin' that there idea?I been examinin' the works of that word 'late, ' and it don't tick rightto me. 'Late' means 'planted, ' don't it?"

"Sometimes. It may also mean behind time. Do you remember that I said, aday or two ago, that I shouldn't be surprised if the lost gold were inthe very cañon where we camped? I claim precedence of divination, auto-suggestion, and right of eminent domain. I shall not waive myprerogative. "

"I never owned one, " said Overland. "But afore I'll let you come anystyle over me, I'll have one made with a silk linin' and di'monds in thebuttons, jest as soon as the claim gets to payin' good. Say, pardner, it's _free_ gold, and _coarse_. I wisht Collie was here--the littlecuss. "

"Collie?"

"Uhuh. The kid I was tellin' you about, that I adopted back inAlbuquerque. He's got a share in this here deal, by rights. He investedhis eight rollers and four bits in the chances of my findin' the stuff. It was all the coin he had at the time. You see, I was campin' up on theMoonstone for a change of air, and Collie and me had a meetin' of theboard of dissectors. The board votes unanimous to invest the paid-incapital in a suit of new jeans for the president, which was me. I got'em on now. You see, I had to be dollied up to look the part so I couldcatch a come-on and get me grubstake. "

"I see, " said Winthrop, his gray eyes twinkling. "And I was thecome-on?"

"Well, " said Overland, scratching his head, "mebby you _was_, but youain't no more. If she pans out anything like I expect, you'll bestandin' up so clost to bein' rich that if she was a bronc' you'd getkicked sure. "

They rested for a few minutes, both gazing down on the evening desert. The reflected light, strong and clear, drew abrupt, keen-edged contrastsbetween the black, triangular shadows of the peaks and the gray of therange. Something elusive, awesome, unreal was in the air about them. Therugged mountain-side with its chaos of riven boulders, its forest ofsplintered rocky spires, silver cold in the twilight, its impassive bulklooming so large, yet a mere segment in the circling range, was as aday-dream of some ancient Valhalla, clothed in the mystic glory ofever-changing light, and crowned with slumbering clouds. 

Winthrop sighed as he again faced the range. Overland heard and smiled. "You said it all, " he muttered. "You said it all then. "

"You're something of a poet, aren't you?" queried Winthrop. 

"You bet! I'm some artist, too. A lady I was figurin' on acceptin' ainvite to dinner with, once, --one of them rich kind that always wants toget their money's worth out of anything they do for a poorguy, --happened to come out on the back steps where I was holdin' kind ofa coroner's request over a lettuce san'wich. 'My man, ' she says, 'I havealways been interested to know if you--er--tramps ever think ofanything else but food and lodging and loafing. Nothing personal, Iassure you. Merely a general interest in social conditions which youseem so well fitted to explode from experience. For instance, now, whatare your favorite colors?'

"I couldn't see what that had to do with it, and I got kind of mad. Alettuce san'wich ain't encouragin' to confidence, so I up and says, 'What are me favorite colors, lady? Well, speakin' from experience, theyis _ham_ and _eggs_. '

"She took a tumble to herself and sent me out some of the best--and abottle of Red Cross beer with it. "

On up the slope they toiled, Winthrop half-forgetting his weariness inthinking of Overland's sprightly experiences with what he termed "thehard ole map--this here world. "

At the summit they paused again to rest. 

"That was the time, " began Overland, "when I writ that there pome called'Heart Throbs of a Hobo. ' Listen!"

 "Oh, my stummick is jest akein' For a little bite of bacon, A slice of bread, a little mug of brew. I'm tired of seein' scenery, Jest lead me to a beanery, Where there's something more than only air to chew. "

"The last line sounds like a sneeze, " said Winthrop, laughing. 

"Speakin' of sneeze, " said Overland, "makes me think you ain't coughedso much lately, Billy. "

"I had a pretty bad time yesterday morning, " replied Winthrop. 

"Well, you'll get cured and stay cured, up here, " said Overland, hugelyoptimistic. 

"Of course, " rejoined Winthrop, smiling. "It's such hard work to breatheup here that I have to keep alive to attend to it. "

"That's her! Them little old bellowsus of your'n 'll get exercise--notpumpin' off the effects of booze an' cigarettes, neither, but frompumpin' in clean thin air with a edge to it. Them little old germs willall get dizzy and lose their holt. "

"That's getting rather deep into personalities, " said Winthrop. "But Ithink you're correct. I could eat a whole side of bacon, raw. "

And he followed Overland silently across the range and down into thecool depths of the hidden cañon, where the tramp, ever watchful of theyounger man's health, slipped from his coat and made Winthrop put it on, despite the latter's protest that he was hot and sweating. 

CHAPTER XIV

"CALL IT THE 'ROSE GIRL'"

"What are you going to do with those things?" asked Winthrop. "Not burnthem?"

"Yep; every strap and tie-string, " replied Overland, gathering togetherthe dead prospector's few effects. "Cause why? Well, Billy, if thisclaim ain't filed on, --and I reckon it ain't, --why, we files on her asthe original locators. Nobody gets wise to anything and it saves thechance of gettin' jumped. The bunch over there would make it interestin'for us if they knowed we was goin' to file on it. They'd put up a fightby law, and mebby one not by law. Sabe?"

"I think so. Going to burn that little--er--cradle arrangement, too?"

"Yep. Sorry, 'cause it's wood, and wood is wood here. That little rockeris a cradle all right for rockin' them yella babies in and then out. Thehand that rocks that cradle hard enough rules the world, as the potesays. "

"So this is how gold is mined?" queried Winthrop, examining the cruderocker and the few rusted tools. 

"One way. Pan, cradle, or sluice for free gold. They's about four otherways. This here's our way. "

"Is it a rich claim?"

"Tolerable. I panned some up the branch. She runs about two dollars apan. "

"Is that all?"

Overland smiled as he poked a smouldering corner of blanket into thefire. "It is and it ain't. I reckon you could pan fifty pans a day. That's a hundred dollars. Then I could do that much and the cookin', too. That's another hundred. Two hundred dollars a day ain't bad wagesfor two guys. It ought to keep us in grub and postage stamps and somechewin'-gum once in a while. "

"Two hundred a day!" And Winthrop whistled. "That doesn't seem much inNew York--on the street, but out here--right out of the ground. Why, that's twelve hundred a week. "

"Nope--not exactly. She's a rich one, and bein' so rich at the startshe'll peter out fast, I take it. I know these here kind. When we cometo the end of the cañon we're at the end, that's all. Besides, she's sorich we won't work six days every week. If she was half as good, mebbywe would. You never done much fancy pick-handle exercise, did you?"

"No, but I'm going to. This beats signing checks all to pieces. "

"Never got cramps that way myself, " grunted Overland. "But I have fromswingin' a pick. Your back'll be so blame stiff in about three days thatyou'll wish you never seen a pan or a shovel. Then you'll get over thefever and settle down sensible. Three of us could do a heap better thantwo. I wish Collie was on the job. "

"I'm willing, " said Winthrop. 

"'Course you are, but you get your half of this as agreed. Collie'sshare comes out of my half. I'm playin' this hand over the table, inplain sight. "

Winthrop glanced quickly at Overland's inscrutable face. "Suppose Ishould tell you that my income, each week, is about equal to what weexpect to get from this claim?"

"Makes no difference, " growled Overland. "It wasn't your money thatstood off the constable--and later out in the desert. It was _you_. They's some places left on this old map yet where a man is jest what histwo fists and his head is worth. This here Mojave is one of 'em. Are yousqueak to that?"

"I understand, " said Winthrop. 

 * * * * *

They worked steadily until evening. They staked out their respective andadjoining claims, dropped the rusted tools in a bottomless crevice, andremoved the last shred and vestige of a previous occupancy. 

"This here's been too easy, " said Overland, as he sliced bacon for theevening meal. "When things comes as easy as this, you want to watch outfor a change in the weather. We ain't through with the bunch yet. "

The Easterner, making the evening fire, nodded. "How are we to getprovisions?" he asked. 

"First, I was thinkin' of packin' 'em in from Gophertown, over yonder. She's about thirty miles from here, across the alkali. 'T aint a regulartown, but they got grub. But if we got to comin' in regular, they'dsmell gold quicker than bees findin' orange-blossoms. They got mynumber, likewise. "

"How's that?"

"They know I been standin' out on the edge ever since I had a littlefuss with some folks over at Yuma, quite a spell ago. "

"Won't you tell me about it?"

"Sure! They was three parties interested--me and another gent and ahoss. I guess the hoss is still alive. "

Winthrop laughed. "That's a pretty brief epic, " he said. 

"Uhuh. It was. But I reckon we got to hit the breeze out of here rightsoon. Here, le' me take that fry-pan a minute. It's this way. Me andyou's located this claim. Now we go and file. But first we got to getsome dough. I got a scheme. I'm thinkin' of gettin' a dudeoutfit--long-tailed coat and checker pants and a elevated lid with ashine to it. Then you and me to the State House and file on this hereclaim. You stay right in them kickie clothes and that puncher hat. Wefile, see? The gents supportin' the bars and store corners will be sointerested in seein' me do you for your pile that they'll forget toremember who I am, like I would be in me natural jeans. They'll size mefor a phoney promoter excavatin' your pocketbook. It's a chance--but wegot to take it. "

"That's all very weird and wonderful, " said Winthrop, "and not so veryflattering to me, but I am game. I'll furnish the expense money. "

After the evening meal they drew nearer the fire and smoked in the chillsilence. The flames threw strange dancing shadows on the opposite cliff. 

Winthrop, mindful of Overland's advice, slipped on his coat as the nightdeepened. "About your adopting a disguise, " he began; "I should thinkyou would look well enough clean-shaven and dressed in some stylish, rough tweed. You have fine shoulders and--"

"Hold on, Billy! I'm a livin' statoo, I know. But listen! I got to gothe limit to look the part. You can't iron the hoof-marks of hell andTexas out of my mug in a hundred years. The old desert and the bordertowns and the bottle burned 'em in to stay. Them kind of looks don't gowith business clothes. I got to look fly--jest like I didn't know nobetter. "

"Perhaps you are right. You seem to make a go of everything you tackle. "

"Yep! Some things I made go so fast I ain't caught up with 'em yet. Youknow I used to wonder if a fella's face would ever come smooth again inheaven. That was a spell ago. I ain't been worryin' about it nonelately. "

"How old are you?"

"Me? I'm huggin' thirty-five clost. But not so clost I can't hearthirty-six lopin' up right smart. "

"Only thirty-five!" exclaimed Winthrop. Then quickly, "Oh, I beg yourpardon. "

"That's nothin'", said Overland genially. "It ain't the 'thirty-five'that makes me feel sore--it's the 'only. ' You said it all then. Butbelieve me, pardner, the thirty-five have been all red chips. "

"Well, you have _lived_, " sighed Winthrop. 

"And come clost to forgettin' to, once or twice. Anyhow, --speakin' ofheaven, --I'd jest as soon take my chances with this here mug of mine, what shows I earned all I got, as with one of them there dead-fish facesI seen on some guys that never done nothin' better or worse than get upfor breakfast. "

Winthrop smiled. "Yes. And you believe in a heaven, then?"

"From mornin' till night. And then more than ever. Not your kind of aheaven, or mebby any other guy's. But as sure as you're goin' to creasethem new boots by settin' too clost to the fire, there's somethin' upthere windin' up the works regular and seein' that she ticks right, andonce in a while chuckin' out old wheels and puttin' in new ones. Jesttake a look at them stars! Do you reckon they're runnin' right on timeand not jumpin' the track and dodgin' each other that slick--jestbecause they was throwed out of a star-factory promiscus like a shovelof gravel? No, sir! Each one is doin' its stunt because the other oneis--same as folks. Sure, there's somethin' runnin the big works; butwhether me or you is goin' to get a look-in, --goin' to be let in onit, --why, that's different. "

Winthrop drew back from the fire and crossed his legs. He leanedforward, gazing at the flames. From the viewless distance came the howlof coyotes. 

"They're tryin' to figure it out--same as us, " said Overland, poking ahalf-burned root into the fire. "And they're gettin' about as far alongat it, too. Like most folks does in a crowd--jest howlin' all together. Mebby it sounds good to 'em. I don' know. "

"I'm somewhat of a scoffer, I think, " said Winthrop presently. 

"Most lungers is, " was Overland's cheerful comment. "They're sore ontheir luck. They ain't really sore at the big works. They only think so. I've knowed lots of 'em that way. "

"To-night, --here in this cañon, --with the stars and the desert so near, you almost persuade me that there is something. "

"Hold on, Billy! You're grazin' on the wrong side of the range if youthink I'm preachin'. My God! I hate preachin' worse than I could hatehell if I thought they was one. My little old ideas is mine. I roped 'emand branded 'em and I'm breakin' 'em in to ride to suit me. I ain'taskin' nobody to risk gettin' throwed ridin' any of my stock. Sabe?"

"But a chap may peek through the fence and watch, mayn't he?"

"Sure! Mebby you're breakin' some stock of your own like that. If youare, any little old rig I got is yours. "

"Thank you. And I'm not joking. Perhaps I'll get the right grip onthings later. I've been used to town and the pace. I've always hadmoney, but I never felt really clean, inside and out, until now. Inever before burned my bridges and went it under my own flag. "

Overland nodded sagely. "Uhuh. It's the air. Your feelin' clean andreligious-like is nacheral up here. Don't worry if it feels queer to youat first--you'll get used to it. Why, I quit cussin', myself, wheneverything seems so dum' quiet. Sounds like the whole works had stoppedto listen to a fella. Swearin' ain't so hefty then. Sort of outdoorstage fright, I reckon. Say, do you believe preachin' ever did muchgood?"

"Sometimes I've thought it did. "

"I seen a case once, " began Overland reminiscently. "It was ToledoBlake. He was a kind of bum middleweight scrapper when he was workin' atit. When he wasn't trainin' he was a kind of locoed heavyweight--stewedmost of the time. It was one winter night in Toledo. Me and him wentinto one of them 'Come-In-Stranger' rescue joints. 'Course, they wassingin' hymns and prayin' in there, but it was warmer than outside, sowe stayed. 

"After a while up jumps the foreman of that gospel outfit. His foretopwas long, and he wore it over one ear like a hoss's when the wind isblowin'. 

"He commenced wrong, I guess. He points down the room to where me andToledo was settin', and he hollers, 'Go to the ant, you slugger!Consider her game and get hep to it, ' or somethin' similar. 

"That word 'slugger' kind of jarred Toledo. He jumps up kind of mad. 'Mebby I am a slugger, and mebby I ain't, but you needn't to getpersonal about it. Anyhow, I ain't got no aunt. '

"'The text, ' says the hoss-faced guy on the platform, 'the text, mybrother, is semaphorical. '

"Toledo couldn't understand that, so I whispers, 'Set down, you mutt!Semaphore is a sign ain't it? Well, he's givin' you the sign talk. Setdown and listen. '

"Toledo, he hadn't had a drink for a week, and he was naturally feelin'kind of ugly. 'All right, ' he growls at the preacher guy. 'All right. Ipass. '

"'Ah, my brother!' says the hoss-faced guy. 'I see the spirits is atwork. ' That kind of got Toledo's goat. 

"'Your dope is _bum_, ' says Toledo. 'I ain't had a drink for a week. First you tell a fella to go see his aunt, when she's been planted forten years. Then--'

"'Listen, brother!' says the preacher guy. 'I referred to ants--little, industrious critters that are examples of thrift to the idle, theindignant, the--'

"'Hold on!' says Toledo. 'Do you mean red ants or black ants?' And Iseen that a spark had touched Toledo's brainbox and that he waswrastlin' with somethin' that felt like thinkin'. 

"'Either, my brother, ' says the hoss-faced guy, smilin' clear up to hisback teeth. 

"'Well, you're drawin' your dope from the wrong can, ' says Toledo, shufflin' for the door. 'Because, ' says he, turnin' in the doorway, 'because, how in hell is a fella goin' to find any ants with two feet ofsnow on the ground?'

"And then Toledo and me went out. It was a mighty cold night. "

Overland Red rolled a cigarette, pausing in his narrative to see whetherWinthrop, who sat with bowed head, was asleep or not. 

Winthrop glanced up. "I'm awake, " he said, smiling. "Very much awake. Ican see it all--you two, down on your luck, and the snow freezing andmelting on the bottoms of your trousers. And the stuffy little rescuemission with a few weary faces and many empty chairs; the 'preacherguy, ' as you call him, earnest, and ignorant, and altogether wrong intrying to reason with Toledo Blake's empty stomach. "

"That's it!" concurred Overland. "A empty stomach is a plumbunreasonable thing. But the preacher guy done some good, at that. He setToledo Blake to thinkin' which was somethin' new and original forToledo. 

"It was nex' spring Toledo and me was travelin' out this way, inspectin'the road-bed of the Santa Fé, when we runs onto a big red-ant's nest inthe sand alongside of the track. Toledo, he squats down and looks. Thefirst thing he sees was a leetle pa ant grab up a piece of crust twicehis size and commence sweatin' and puffin' to drag it home to the kids. 

"'The leetle cuss!' says Toledo. 'He's some strong on the lift!' AndToledo, he takes the piece of crust from the pa ant and sticks it at thetop of the hole, thinkin' to help the pa ant along. But the pa ant, hehustles right up and grabs the crust and waves her around his head acouple of times to show how strong he is, and then starts back to wherehe found the crust. Down he plumps it--gives it a h'ist or two and thengrabs it up. He waves it around in his mitts and wobbles off toward thehole again. Independent? Well, mostly!

"Toledo, he said nothin', but his eyes was pokin' out of his head tryin'to think. You never see a man sweat so tryin' to get both hands onto aidea at once. His dome was kind of flat, but he could handle one idea, in single harness, at a time. 

"Anyhow, the next town we strikes, Toledo, he quits me and gets a sortof chambermaid's job tidyin' up around a little old boiler-factory andmachine-shop; pilin' scrap-iron and pig-iron and little things likethat. And he stuck, too. 

"A couple of years after that I was beatin' it on a rattler goin' west, and I drops off at that town. About the first thing I seen was Toledocomin' down the street. Alongside of him was a woman carry in' a kid inher arms, and another one grazin' along close behind. And Toledo had aloaf of bread under his arm. 

"'This here is Mrs. Blake, ' says Toledo, kind of nervous. 

"'I am glad she is, ' says I. 'Toledo, you're doin' well. Don't knownothin' about the leetle colt in the blanket, but the yearlin' is builtright. He's got good hocks and first-class action. '

"Mrs. Toledo, she kind of sniffed superior, but said nothin'. You knowthat kind of sayin' nothin' which is waitin' for you to move on. 

"'Won't you come up to the shack and have grub?' says Toledo, hopin' I'dsay 'No. '

"'Nope, ' says I. 'Obliged jest the same. I see you got hep to the antall right. '

"'I'll let you know I'm nobody's aunt!' says Mrs. Toledo, yankin' theyearlin' off his hoofs and settin' him down again. For a fact, she thunkI was alludin' to her. 

"'Of course not, madam, ' says I, polite, and liftin' me lid. 'And Ijudge somebody's in luck at that. '

"I guess it was her not used to bein' spoke and acted polite to that gother goat. Mebby she smelt somethin' sarcastic. I dunno. Anyhow, she wasa longhorn with a bad eye. 'Go on, you chicken-lifter!' she says. 

"Bein' no hand to sass a lady, I said nothin' more to _her_. But I handsToledo a jolt for bein' ashamed of his old pal. 

"'Well, so long, ' says I, kind of offhand and easy. 'So long. I'll tellLucy when I see her that you was run over by a freight and killed. Thenshe can take out them papers and marry Mike Brannigan that's beenwaitin' in the hopes you'd pass over. You remember Mike, the cop onCherry Street. You oughta. He's pinched you often enough. 'Course youdo. Well, so long. Little Johnny was lookin' fine the last I seen ofhim. He's gettin' more like his pa every day. But I got to beat it. '"

Overland Red leaned back and puffed a great cloud of smoke from a freshcigarette. 

"Who was Lucy?" asked Winthrop. 

"Search me!" replied Overland. "They wasn't any Lucy or nobody likethat. But I'd like to 'a' stayed to hear Toledo explain that to Mrs. Toledo, though. She was a hard map to talk to. "

"I suppose there's a moral attached to that, or, more properly, embodiedin that story. But it is good enough in itself without disemboweling itfor the moral. "

"You can't always go by ants, neither, " said Overland. 

Winthrop nodded. His eyes were filled with the awe of great distancesand innumerable stars. "Gold!" he whispered presently, as one whispersin dreams. "Gold! Everywhere! In the sun--in the starlight--in theflowers--in the flame. In wine, in a girl's hair. . . . Gold! Mystery. . . . Power . . . And as impotent as Fate. " Winthrop's head lifted suddenly. "What shall we call the mine?" he asked. 

Overland Red started, as though struck from ambush. "How did you guess?"he queried. 

"Guess what?"

"That I was thinkin' about the claim?"

"I didn't guess it. I was dreaming. Suddenly I asked a question, without knowing that I was speaking. "

"Mebby I was bearin' down so hard on the same idea that you kind of feltthe strain. "

"Possibly. That's not unusual. What _shall_ we call it?"

"Wha--I was thinkin' of callin' it the 'Rose Girl' after a girl Collieand me knows up Moonstone Cañon way. "

"It's rather a good name, " said Winthrop. "Is the girl pretty?"

"Pretty? Gosh! That ain't the word. Her real name is Louise Lacharme, and, believe me, Billy, she's all that her name sounds like, and thensome. "

CHAPTER XV

SILENT SAUNDERS

One after another, in the course of the two years following Collie'sarrival, the old riders of the Moonstone Rancho drifted away. Thereremained but Brand Williams the foreman, Collie, and the sturdy, hard-riding Miguel, a young Spanish vaquero who was devoted to but twothings in life, his splendid pinto pony, and the Moonstone Ranch. 

The others had been lured to the new oil-fields up north--to theexcitement of Goldfield, or to Mexico City, where even more excitementpromised. In their stead came new men--Bud Light, Parson Long, BillyDime, and one Silent Saunders. 

Louise became acquainted with the new men while riding with her uncle. She was his constant companion in the hills. One by one the new arrivalsbecame devoted to her. Her sincere interest in the ranch work pleasedthem, and naturally, for it was their work. Walter Stone was alsopleased with his niece's interest in the detail of the ranch work. Shewas as a daughter to him. Some day the property would be hers. 

Fully conscious, from within herself, of her dependence upon her uncle, Louise managed to be of inestimable service. She performed herself-allotted tasks without ostentation. She had that rare quality ofstimulating enthusiasm among the men--enthusiasm for their work andpride in giving faithful and energetic service--pride in accomplishing alittle more each day than was asked or expected of them. Louise's youth, her beauty, her sincerity, and, above all, her absolute simplicity ofmanner commanded admiration and respect among the hard-riding Moonstoneboys. She was, to them, a "lady, " yet a lady they could understand. Herswas a gentle tyranny. A request from her was deemed a great complimentby its recipient. 

All of them, with the exception of Collie, openly praised herhorsemanship, her quiet daring, her uniform kindness. Her beauty hadceased to be commented upon. It was accepted by them as one accepts thefragrant beauty of a rose, naturally, silently, gratefully. 

Collie had gained in height and breadth of shoulder. He no longer neededinstruction in managing broncho stock. He loved the life of the hills;the cool, invigorating mornings, the keen wind of the noon peaks, theplacidity of the evening as the stars multiplied in the peaceful sky. 

He became that rare quantity among cowmen, a rider who handled andmastered unbroken horses without brutality. This counted heavily for himboth with Louise and Walter Stone. Men new to the range laughed at hismethod of "gentling" horses. Later their laughter stilled to enviousdesire. Lacking his invariable patience, his consistent magnetism, theyfinally resumed their old methods, and earned dominance by sheerstrength of arm--"main strength and awkwardness, " as Williams put it. 

"It's easy--for him, " commented Brand Williams, discussing Collie'salmost uncanny quelling of a vicious, unbitted mustang. "It's easy. Youfellas expect a boss to buck and bite and kick and buffalo yougenerally. _He_ don't. He don't expect anything like that, and he don'tlet 'em learn how. "

"Can you work it that way?" asked Billy Dime. 

"Nope. I learned the other way and the bosses knows it. I always had tosweat. He's born to it natural, like a good cow-pony is. "

And Collie looked upon his work as a game--a game that had to be playedhard and well, but a game, nevertheless. Incidentally he thought oftenof Overland Red. He had searched the papers diligently for a year, before he received the first letter from Overland. The news it containedset Collie to thinking seriously of leaving the Moonstone Rancho andjoining his old companion in this new venture of gold-digging which, asOverland took pains to explain, was "paying big. " But there wasLouise. . . . They were great friends. They had even ridden to towntogether and attended the little white church in the eucalyptusgrove. . . . He thought of their ride homeward late that Sundayafternoon. . . . 

 * * * * *

Once and once only had Overland's name been mentioned in the bunk-house. Saunders, discussing horses and riders in general, listened to Collie'saccount of Overland's escape from the deputy, Tenlow. Then he spokeslightingly of the feat, claiming that any man who had ever ridden rangecould do as much, with the right pony. 

Brand Williams tried to change the subject, for shrewd reasons of hisown, but Collie flamed up instantly. "I got a little saved up, " he said;"mebby eight hundred. She's yours if you dast to walk a horse, comin' orgoin', over that drift that Red took on the jump. Are you game?"

"I'm not on the bet, " replied Saunders. "So Overland Red is a friend ofyours, eh?"

"Overland Red could ride where you dassent to walk and drag a halter, "asserted Collie. Then he relapsed to silence, a little ashamed in thathe had been trapped into showing temper. 

Williams the taciturn astonished the bunk-house by adding: "The kid isright. Red could outride most men. I was his pal once, down in Sonora. There ain't a better two-gun artist livin'. " And the lean foreman lookedpointedly at Saunders. 

Saunders smiled evilly. He had reason to believe that Williams hadspoken the truth. 

 * * * * *

A few weeks later, Williams, returning unexpectedly to the bunk-house, found Saunders changing his shirt preparatory to a ride to town. Therest of the boys were already on their way to the Oro Rancho across thevalley. Williams saw two puckered scars, each above the elbow onSaunders's bared arms. 

"That was dam' good shootin', " said the foreman, indicating the other'sscarred arms. 

"Fair, " said Saunders gruffly. 

"Takes a gun-artist to put a man out of business that way and not finishhim, " said Williams, smiling. 

"Cholo mix-up, " said Saunders. 

"And shootin' from the ground, at that, " continued Williams. "And at afella on a horse. Easy to see that, for the both holes are slantin' up. The shootin' was done from below. "

Saunders flushed. He was about to speak when Williams interrupted him. "Makes me think of some of Overland Red's--that is, old Red JackSummers's fancy work. I don' know why, " he drawled, and turning he leftthe bunk-house. 

Collie, returning from a visit to the Oro Rancho that evening, was metby Williams. The latter was on foot. 

"Drop into my shack after dark, " said the foreman. Then he stepped backinto the bushes as the other men rode up. 

The foreman's interview with Collie that evening was brief. It left alot to the imagination. "You said too much about Overland Red the othernight, when you was talkin' to Silent Saunders, " said Williams. "He'stryin' to find out somethin'. I don't know what he's after. Keep youreye peeled and your teeth on the bit. That's all. "

CHAPTER XVI

BLUNDER

"Oh, he's built all right, and he comes of good stock, " said BrandWilliams, nodding toward a bay colt that stood steaming in the sun. 

It had rained the night before--an unexpected shower and the last of thewinter rains. Now that the snow had left the hills, the young stock, some thirty-odd year-old colts had been turned into the north range. Collie and Williams had ridden over to look at the colts; Williams as amatter of duty, Collie because he was interested and liked Williams'ssociety. 

The colt, shaking itself, turned and nipped at its shoulder and switchedits tail. 

"He's stayed fat, too, " continued Williams. "But look at him! He'sbitin' and switchin' because he's wet. Thinks it's fly-time a'ready. He's jest a four-legged horse-hide blunder. I know his kind. "

Collie, dismounting and unbuttoning his slicker, rolled it and tied itto the saddle. "I guess you're right, Brand. Last week I was over thisway. He had his head through the corral bars at the bottom and hecouldn't get loose. He was happy, though. He must have been there quitea spell, for he ate about half a bale of hay. I got him loose and hetried his darndest to kick my head off. "

"Uhuh, " grunted the foreman. "Reckon it's the last rain we'll get thisyear. Now would you look at that! He's the limit!"

The colt, sniffing curiously at a crotch in the live-oak against whichhe had been rubbing, had stepped into the low fork of the tree. Perhapshe had some vague notion to rub both his sides at once as an economy ofeffort. His front feet had slipped on the wet ground. He went down, wedged fast. He struggled and kicked. He nickered plaintively, androlled his terror-stricken eyes toward the cowmen in wild appeal. 

"And like all of his kind, hoss and human, " said Williams, dismounting, "he's askin' for help in a voice that sounds like it was our fault thathe's in trouble. He's the limit!"

With much labor they finally released the colt, who expressed promptgratitude by launching a swift and vicious kick at Collie. 

"He's feeling good enough, " said that youth, coolly picking up his hatthat had dropped as he dodged. 

"Yes. All he needs is a couple of punchers and a hoss-doctor and apoliceman to ride round with him and keep him out of trouble. He's noaccount; never will be, " growled Williams. 

"I don't know, Brand. He's a mighty likely-looking and interestingspecimen. He's different. I kind of like him. "

"Well, I don't. I ain't got time. He's always goin' to manufacturetrouble, when he don't come by it natural. He's got a kind eye, but nobrains behind it. "

They mounted and rode up the hill, looking for breaks in the fences andcounting the colts, some of whom, luxuriously lazy in the heat of thesun, stood with lowered heads, drowsing. Others, scattered about thehillsides and in the arroyos, grazed nippingly at the sparsebunch-grass, moving quickly from clump to clump. 

The "blunder" colt seemed to find his own imbecilities sufficientlyentertaining, for he grazed alone. 

The foreman's inspection terminated with the repairing of a break in thefence inclosing the spring-hole, a small area of bog-land dotted withhummocks of lush grass. Between the hummocks was a slimy, black oozethat covered the bones of more than one unfortunate animal. The heavy, ripe grass lent an appearance of stability, of solidity, to thetreacherous footing. 

Williams and Collie reinforced the sagging posts with props of fallenlimbs and stones carried from the trail below. They piled brush wherethe wire had parted, filling the opening with an almost impassablebarrier of twisted branches. Until the last rain, the spring-hole fencehad appeared solid--but one night of rain in the California hills canwork unimaginable changes in trail, stream-bed, or fence line. 

"Get after that fence first thing in the morning, " said Williams as heunsaddled the pinto that afternoon. "I noticed the blunder colt followedus up to the spring. If there's any way of gettin' bogged, he'll findit, or invent a new way for himself. "

The blunder colt's mischief-making amounted to absolute genius. Therewas much of the enterprising puppy in his nature and in his methods. Theimpulse which seemed to direct the extremely uneven tenor of his waywould have resolved itself orally into: "Do it--and then see whathappens!" He was not vicious, but brainlessly joyful in his mischief. 

As the foreman and Collie disappeared beyond the crest of the hill, thecolt, who had watched them with absurdly stupid intensity, lowered hishead and nibbled indifferently at the grass along the edge of thespring-hole fence. He approached the break and sniffed at the props andnetwork of branches. This was interesting! And a very carelesslyconstructed piece of fence, indeed! He would investigate. The blundercolt was never too hungry to cease grazing and turn toward adventure. 

He nosed one of the props. He leaned against it heavily, deliberately, and rubbed himself. Verily "His eye had all the seeming of a demon'sthat is dreaming"--of unalloyed mischief. 

The prop creaked, finally became loosened, and fell. The colt sprangback awkwardly, snorting in indignant surprise. "The very idea!" hewould have said, even as he would have chewed gum and have worn aperpetual tear in his trousers had he been human. 

With stiff stealthiness he approached the break again, pretending ahesitancy that he enjoyed immensely. He reached under the lower wire, neck outstretched, and nibbled at a bunch of ripe grass. There wasplenty of grass within easier reach, but he wanted the unattainable. Abarb caught in his mane. He jerked his head up. The barb pricked hisneck. He jerked harder. Another prop became loosened. Then he strodeaway, this time with calm indifference. He pretended to graze, but hiseye roved back to the break. His attitude expressed a slyalertness--something of the quiet vigilance a grazing horse betrays whenone approaches with a bridle. He drew nearer the fence again. With headover the top wire he gazed longingly at the clumps of grass on thehummocks scattered over the muck of the overflow. His shoulder neededscratching. With drooping head, eyes half-closed, and lower lip pendant, he rubbed against the loosened post. The post sagged and wobbled. Whether it was deliberate intent, or just natural "horse" predominatinghis actions, it would be difficult to determine. Finally the post gaveway and fell. The colt drew back and contemplated the opening with avacuous eye. It was not interesting now. No, indeed! He wandered away. 

But in the dusk of that evening, when a chill dew sparkled along theedges of the bog, he came, a clumsy shadow and grazed among thehummocks. Slowly he worked toward the treachery of black ooze that shonein the starlight. He sank to his fetlocks. He drew his feet up one afteranother, still progressing toward the centre of the bog, and sinkingdeeper at each step. He became stricken with fear as he sank to hishocks. He plunged and snorted. The bog held him with a soft, detaininggrip--and drew him slowly down. He nickered, and finally screamed inabsolute terror. Up to his heaving belly the black mud crept. He flunghimself sideways. Exhausted, he lay with neck and head outstretched. Again he struggled, his eyes wild and protruding with the blood pressureof his straining. Then the chill of night crept over him. He becamequiet--shivered a little, and nickered faintly. 

In the willows a little owl called pensively. 

 * * * * *

The morning light, streaming across the hills, spread like raw gold overthe bog. Collie whistled as he rode down the trail, and beat his glovedhands to keep warm. He heard a plaintive whinny and a bubbling gasp. Heleaped from his pony, the coiled riata in his hand as he touched theground. 

The blunder colt, neck outstretched, was still above the ooze. His eyeswere bloodshot, as their white rims showed. His nose quivered andtwisted with his quick, irregular breathing. 

It was a "two-man job, " but Collie knew that the colt would probably begone before he could ride back and return with help. He swung the riata, then hesitated. To noose the colt's neck would only result in stranglingit when he pulled. He found a branch large enough to stiffen the brushnear the break. Swiftly he built a shaky footing and crept out towardthe colt. By shoving the riata under the colt's belly with a forkedstick, and fishing the loose end up on the other side, he managed to geta loop round the animal's hind quarters. He mounted his own horse andtook a turn of the riata round the saddle-horn. 

His pony set its feet and leaned to the work. Slowly the colt was drawnto solid ground. 

He was a pitiful object as he lay panting and shivering, plastered withmud and black slime, and almost dead from shock and chill. Collie spreadhis slicker over him and rode up the hill at a trot. The blunder coltraised its head a little, then dropped it and lay motionless. 

 * * * * *

When Collie and Billy Dime returned with gunnysacks and an old blanket, the sun had warmed the air. The mud on the colt's side and neck hadbegun to dry. 

Billy Dime commented briefly. "He's a goner. He's froze clean to hisheart. Why didn't you leave him where he was?"

Collie spread the gunnysacks on a level beneath a live-oak, beneathwhich they dragged the colt and covered him with the blanket. They gavehim whiskey with water that they heated at a little fire of brush. Thecolt lifted its head, endeavoring spasmodically to get to its feet. 

"He's wearin' hisself out. He ain't got much farther to go, " said BillyDime, mounting and turning his pony. "Come on, kid. If he's aliveto-morrow mornin'--good enough. "

"I think I'll stay awhile, " said Collie. "Brand says he isn't worthsaving, but--I kind of like the cuss. He's different. "

"Correct, nurse, he is. You can telephone me if the patient shows signsof bitin' you. Keep tabs on his pulse--give him his whiskey regular, butdon't by no means allow him to set up in bed and smoke. I'll call againnex' year. So long, sweetness. "

"You go plump!" laughed Collie. 

And Billy Dime rode over the hill singing a dolefully cheerful dittyabout burying some one on the "lo-o-ne prairee. " To him a horse wasmerely something useful, so long as it could go. When it couldn't go, hegot another that could. 

Collie replenished the smoking fire, scraped some of the mud from thecolt's thick, winter coat, and heated a half-dozen large stones. 

His brother cowmen would have laughed at these "tender ministrations, "and Collie himself smiled as he recalled Billy Dime's partingdirections. 

Collie placed the heated stones round the shivering animal, re-dried theblanket at the fire, and covered the pitifully weak and pantingcreature. The colt's restless lifting of its head he overcame by sittingnear it and stroking its muzzle with a soothing hand. 

Time and again he rose to re-heat the stones and replenish the fire. Thecolt's breathing became less irregular. He gave it more of the hotwhiskey and water. 

Then he mended the fence. He had brought an axe with him and a supply ofstaples. 

Toward mid-afternoon he became hungry and solaced himself with acigarette. 

Again the blunder colt became restless, showing a desire to rise, butfor lack of strength the desire ended with a swaying and tossing of itshead. 

Evening came quickly. The air grew bitingly chill. Collie wished thatone of the boys would bring him something to eat. The foreman surelyknew where he was. Collie could imagine the boys joking about him overtheir evening "chuck. "

With the darkness he drew on his slicker and squatted by the fire. Hefell asleep. He awoke shivering, to find the embers dull. The stars wereintensely brilliant and large. 

Once during the evening he made up his mind to return to theranch-house, but a stubborn determination to save the colt, despite theridicule he knew he would elicit, held him to his task. Should he leave, the colt might become chilled again and die. Then he _would_ be open toridicule. Collie reasoned that he must finish the task as he had begunit--thoroughly. 

Again he heated the stones, warmed the blanket, and gave "Blunder, " ashe now called him affectionately, some hot whiskey. Then he built alarger fire, wrapped himself in his saddle-blankets, and, with feet tothe blaze, slept. His own pony grazed at large, dragging a rope. 

Habit brought Collie awake early. The fire had gone out. He was stiffwith cold. Arising, he glanced at the heap beneath the blanket ringedwith stones. "Time to eat!" he cried lustily, and whipped the blanketfrom the mud-encrusted Blunder. The colt raised its head, struggled, putout one stiff fore leg, and then the other. Collie grabbed the animal'stail and heaved. Blunder humped himself--and was on his feet, wobbling, dizzy-eyed, scandalously "mussed up"--but alive!

"Whoop-ee!" shouted Collie as the colt staggered a pace or two tryinghis questionable strength. "Gee! But I'm hungry!"

The Blunder, a mere caricature of a horse in pose and outward seeming, gazed at his rescuer with stupid eyes. He had not the faintest idea whatall the joy was about, but something deep in his horse nature told himthat the boisterous youth was his friend. Timidly he approached Collie, wagged his head up and down experimentally, as if trying his neckhinges, and reached out and nuzzled the young man's hand, nippingplayfully at his fingers. 

Collie was dumbfounded. "He's thankin' me--the little cuss! Why, yourubber-kneed, water-eyed mud turtle you! I didn't know you had thatmuch sense. "

The youth did not hear the regular beat of hoofs as Williams loped up, until the colt, stilt-legged, emitted a weak nicker. Collie turned. 

Williams smiled grimly. "Knew you'd stick, " he said. 

He gazed at the revived colt, the circle of stones, and the blanket. Hemade no comment. 

Collie caught up his pony and mounted. As they rode over the hilltogether, Williams, turning in the saddle, laughed and pointed downtoward the arroyo. 

The blunder colt, apparently overjoyed to be alive, had ambled awkwardlyup to one of his mates who stood stolidly waiting for the sun to warmhim. The other colt, unused to the Blunder's society and perhapsunfavorably impressed by his dissipated appearance, received thisfriendly overture with a pair of punishing hoofs. Blunder staggered andfell, but scrambled to his feet again, astonished, indignant, highlyoffended. 

"If you was to drive that blunder colt up to horse-heaven and he knew it_was_ horse-heaven, you'd have to turn him around and back him in. ThenI reckon he'd bust the corral tryin' to get out again. "

Collie grinned. "Well, I wouldn't this morning--if there was anythingto eat there, even hay. "

"Well, you don't get your breakfast at the chuck-house _this_ morning, "said Williams gruffly. 

"I don't, eh? Since when?"

Williams again turned in his saddle, observing Collie for a minutebefore he spoke. "I see you're smilin', so I'll tell you. Since when?Well, since about two hours ago, when Miss Louise come steppin' over tothe bunk-house and asks where you are. Billy Dime ups and tells her youwas sick-nursin' the blunder colt. She didn't smile, but turned to meand asked me. I told her about what was doin'. I seen she had it in forsomebody. It was me. 'Brand, ' she says, quiet-like, 'is it customary onthe Moonstone for lunch or dinner to be taken to the men that arestaying out from camp?'

"'Yes, ma'am, ' says I. 

"And the plumb hell of it was, " continued Williams, "she didn't sayanother word. I wisht she had. I feel like a little less than nothin'shot full of holes this lovely mornin'. "

Collie rode on silently. 

"Why don't you say somethin'?" queried Williams. 

"I was waiting for the rest of it, " said Collie. 

Williams laughed. "I guess you ain't such a fool, at that, with yournussin' stock and settin' up nights with 'em. Miss Louise says to tellyou to come right up to the house, --the _house_, you understand, --andget your breakfast with them. They said they was goin' to wait for you. I guess that ain't throwin' it into the rest of us some. Keep it up, Collie kid, keep it up, and you'll be payin' us all wages some day. "

CHAPTER XVII

GUESTS

A month had passed since the rescue of the blunder colt. The air waswarm and clear, the sky intensely blue. Moonstone Cañon grew fragrantwith budding flowers. The little lizards came from their winter crevicesand clung to the sun-warmed stones. A covey of young quail flutteredalong the hillside under the stately surveillance of the mother bird. Wild cats prowled boldly on the southern slopes. Cotton-tails huddledbeneath the greasewood brush and nibbled at the grasses. The cañonstream ran clear again now that the storm-washed silt had settled. Onthe peaks the high winds were cold and cutting, but on the slopes and inthe valleys the earth was moist and warm. 

Louise, humming a song, rode slowly along the Moonstone Cañon Trail. Atthe "double turn" in the cañon, where dwelt Echo and her myrmidons, Louise rode more slowly. 

 "Dreaming Fance, the cobbler's son, took his tools and laces, Wrought her shoes of scarlet dye, shoes as pale as snow. They shall lead her wild-rose feet all the faëry paces, Danced along the road of love, the road such feet should go. "

She sang slowly, pausing after each line that the echoes might not blur. 

"Danced along . . . Along . . . The road . . . Of love, the road . . . Oflove . . . Of love, " sang the echoes. 

Louise smiled dreamily. Then the clatter of Boyar's shod hoofs rang andreëchoed, finally to hush in the gravel of the ford beyond. 

Why Louise thought of Collie just then, it would be difficult toimagine. Still, she had, ever since his night's vigil with the blundercolt, caught herself noting little details associated with him and hiswork. He brushed his teeth. Not all of the other men did. He did notchew tobacco. Despite his lack of early training, he was naturally neat. He disliked filth instinctively. His bits, spurs, and trappings shone. He had learned to shoe his string of ponies--an art that is fastbecoming lost among present-day cowmen. With little comment but faithfulzeal he copied Brand Williams. This, of course, flattered the taciturncowman, who unobtrusively arranged Collie's work so that it might bringthe younger man before the notice of Walter Stone, and incidentallyLouise. Of course, Louise was not aware of this. 

The girl no longer sang as she rode, but dreamed, with unseeing eyes onthe trail ahead--dreamed such dreams as one may put aside easily until, perchance, the dream converges toward reality which cannot be so lightlyput aside. 

Brand Williams had his own ideas of romance; ideas pretty well submergedin the deeps of hardy experience, but existing, nevertheless, and asimmovable as the bed of the sea. He badgered Collie whenever he chancedto have seen him with the Rose Girl, and smiling inwardly at the youngman's indignation, he would straightway arrange that Collie should rideto town, for, say, a few pounds of staples wanted in a hurry, when heknew that the buckboard would be going to town on the morrow, and alsothat there were plenty of staples in the storeroom. 

Something of the kind was afoot, or rather a-saddle, as Louise rode downthe Moonstone Trail, for beyond the turn and the rippling ford she saw alithe, blue-shirted figure that she knew. 

Louise would not have admitted even to herself that she urged Boyar. Nevertheless the reins tightened and slackened gently. Boyar swung intohis easy lope. It pleased the girl that Collie, turning in his saddle atthe sound of hoofs, waved a salute, but did not check his horse. He hadnever presumed on her frank friendship and "taken things for granted. "He kept his place always. He was polite, a little reticent, and verymuch in love with Louise. Louise did not pretend to herself that shewas not aware of it. She was all the more pleased that Collie should actso admirably. She had loaned him books, some of which he had readfaithfully and intelligently. In secret he had kissed her name writtenon the flyleaf of each of them. He really rather adored Louise thanloved her, and he builded well, for his adoration (unintimate asadoration must ever be until perchance it touches earth and istranslated into love) was of that blithe and inspiriting quality thatlifts a man above his natural self and shapes the lips to song and theheart to unselfish service. He knew himself to be good-looking and notaltogether a barbarian. No morbid hopelessness clouded his broadhorizon. He knew himself and cherished his strength and his optimism. Heate slowly, which is no insignificant item on the credit side of the bigbook of Success. 

Collie lifted his broad-brimmed hat as Louise rode up. His face wasflushed. His lips were smiling, but his dark eyes were steady and grave. 

"'Morning, Collie! Boyar is just bound to lope. He never can bear to havea horse ahead of him. "

"He don't have to, very often, " said Collie. 

"Of course, there are Kentucky saddle-horses that could beat him. Butthey are not cow-ponies. "

"No. And they couldn't beat him if they had to do his work in thehills. About a week of the trails would kill a thoroughbred. "

"Boyar is very conceited, aren't you, Boy?" And she patted the sleekarch of his neck. 

"I don't blame him, " said Collie, his eyes twinkling. 

"Going all the way to town?" asked Louise. 

"Yes. Brand wants some things from the store. "

"I'm going to the station. We expect a telegram from some friends. Maybethey'll be there themselves. I hope not, though. They said they werecoming to-morrow, but would telegraph if they started sooner. We wouldhave to get Price's team and buckboard--and I'd be ashamed to ridebehind his horses, especially with my--my friend from the East. "

"Boyar and this here buckskin colt would make a pretty fair team, "ventured Collie, smiling to himself. 

"To drive? Heavens, Collie, no! They've neither of them been inharness. "

"I was just imagining, " said Collie. 

"Of course!" exclaimed Louise, laughing. "I understand. Why, I must belate. There's the train for the north just leaving the station. Iexpected to be there in case the Marshalls did come to-day. But theysaid they'd telegraph. "

"I can see three folks on the platform, " said Collie. "One is theagent; see his cap shine? Then there's a man and a woman. "

"If it's Anne, she'll never forgive me. She's so--formal about things. It can't be the Marshalls, though. "

"We can ride, " suggested Collie. And the two ponies leaped forward. Alittle trail of dust followed them across the valley. 

At the station Louise found her guests, young Dr. Marshall and his wife;also the telegram announcing the day they would arrive. 

"I'm sorry, " began Louise; but the Marshalls silenced her with hearty"Oh, pshaws!" and "No matters!" with an incidental hug from Anne. 

"Why, you have changed so, Anne!" exclaimed Louise. "What _have_ youbeen doing? You used to be so terribly formal, and now you're actuallyhugging me in public!"

"The 'public' has just departed, Miss Lacharme, with your pony, Ibelieve. He rides well--the tall dark chap that came with you. "

"Oh, Collie. He's gone for the buckboard, of course. Stupid of me not todrive down. We really didn't expect you until to-morrow, but you'llforgive us all, won't you? You can see now how telegrams are handled atthese stations. "

Anne Marshall, a brown-eyed, rather stately and pleasingly slender girl, smiled and shook her head. "I don't know. I may, if you will promise tointroduce me to that fascinating young cowboy that rode away with yourhorse. I used to dream of such men. "

Young Dr. Marshall coughed. The girls laughed. 

"Oh, Collie?" said Louise. "Of course, you will meet him. He's ourright-hand man. Uncle Walter says he couldn't get along without him andAunty Eleanor just thinks he is perfect. "

"And Louise?" queried Anne Marshall. 

"Same, " said Louise non-committally. "I don't see why he took Boyar withhim to the store, though. "

 * * * * *

The Marshalls and Louise paced slowly up and down the station platform, chatting about the East and Louise's last visit there, before Anne wasmarried. Presently they were interrupted by a wild clatter of hoofs andthe grind and screech of a hastily applied brake. The borrowedbuckboard, strong, light, two-seated, and built for service, had arriveddramatically. Collie leaned back, the reins wrapped round his wrists, and his foot pressing the brake home. In the harness stood, or rathergyrated, Boyar and Collie's own pony Apache. It is enough to say thatneither of them had ever been in harness before. The ponies were tryingto get rid of the appended vehicle through any possible means. Louisegasped. 

"Price's team is out--over to the Oro Ranch. I knew you wanted a team ina hurry--" said Collie. 

"It looks quite like a team in a hurry, " commented Dr. Marshall. "Yourman is a good driver?"

"Splendid!" said Louise. "Come on, Anne. You always said you wanted toride behind some real Western horses. Here they are. "

"Why, this is just--just--bully!" whispered the stately Anne Marshall. "And isn't he a striking figure?"

"Yes, " assented Louise, who was just the least bit uncertain as to theoutcome of Collie's hasty assembling of untutored harness material. "Itis just 'bully. ' Where in the world did you unearth that word, Anne?"

CHAPTER XVIII

A RED EPISODE

Dr. Marshall's offhand designation of the buckboard as "a team in ahurry" was prophetic, even unto the end. 

What Boyar could not accomplish in the way of equine gymnastics inharness, Apache, Collie's pony, could. 

Louise was a little fearful for her guests, yet she had confidence inthe driver. The Marshalls apparently saw nothing more than a pair ofvery spirited "real Western horses like one reads about, you know, "until Dr. Marshall, slowly coming out of a kind of anticipatory haze, asBoyar stood on his hind feet and tried to face the buckboard, recognizedthe black horse as Louise's saddle animal. He took a firmer grip on theseat and looked at Collie. The young man seemed to be enjoying himself. There wasn't a line of worry on his clean-cut face. 

"Pretty lively, " said the doctor. 

Collie, with his foot on the brake and both arms rigid, nodded. Moonstone Cañon Trail was not a boulevard. He was not to be lured intoconversation. He was giving his whole mind and all of his magnetism tothe team. 

Boyar and Apache took advantage of every turn, pitch, steep descent, andford to display the demoniacal ingenuity inspired by their outragedfeelings. They were splendid, obedient saddle-animals. But to be buckledand strapped in irritating harness, and hitched to that four-wheeleddisgrace, a buckboard!. . . 

Anne Marshall chatted happily with Louise, punctuating her livelychatter with subdued little cries of delight as some new turn in thetrail opened on a vista unimaginably beautiful, especially to herEastern eyes. 

Young Dr. Marshall, in the front seat with Collie, braced his feet andsmiled. _He_ had had experience, in an East-Side ambulance, but thenthat had been over level streets. He glanced over the edge of the cañonroad and his smile faded a little. It faded entirely as the front wheelsheared off a generous shovelful of earth from a sharp upright angle ofthe hill as the team took the turn at a gallop. The young physician hada sense of humor, which is the next best thing to courage, although hehad plenty of his kind of courage also. He brushed the earth from hislap. 

"The road needs widening there, anyway, " commented Collie, as thoughapologizing. 

"I have my--er--repair kit with me, " said the genial doctor. "I'm asurgeon. "

Collie nodded, but kept his eyes rigidly on the horses. Evidently thisimmaculate, of the white collar and cuffs and the stylish gray tweeds, had "sand. "

"They're a little fussy--but I know 'em, " said Collie, as Boyar, apparently terror-stricken at a manzanita that he had passed hundreds oftimes, reared, his fore feet pawing space and the traces dangerouslyslack. Louise bit her lower lip and quickly called Anne's attention to aspot of vivid color on the hillside. To Dr. Marshall's surprise, Colliestruck Apache, who was behaving, smartly with the whip. Apache leapedforward, bringing Boyar down to his feet again. The doctor would havebeen inclined to strike Boyar for misbehaving. He saw Collie's wisdomand smiled. To have punished Boyar when already on his hind feet wouldhave been folly. 

At the top of the next grade the lathering, restive ponies finallysettled to a stubborn trot. "Mad clean through, " said Collie. 

"I should say they were behaving well enough, " said the doctor, not asmuch as an opinion as to relieve his tense nerves in speech. 

"When a bronc' gets to acting ladylike, then is the time to look out, "said Collie. "Boyar and Apache have never been in harness before. Seemskind of queer to 'em. "

"What! Never been--Why! Huh! For Heaven's sake, don't let Mrs. Marshallhear that. "

 * * * * *

Walter Stone and his wife made the Marshalls feel at home immediately. Walter Stone had known Dr. Marshall's father, and he found in the son apleasant living recollection of his old friend. Aunt Eleanor and Louisehad visited with Anne when they were East. She was Anne Winthrop then, and Louise and she had found much in common to enjoy in shopping andsightseeing. Their one regret was that Louise would have to return tothe West before her marriage to the young Dr. Marshall they all admiredso much. There had been vague promises of coming West after "things weresettled, " as Anne put it. Which was merely another way of saying, "Afterwe are married and have become enough used to each other to really enjoya long trip West. "

The Marshalls had arrived with three years of happiness behind them, andapparently with an æon or so of happiness to look forward to, for theywere quiet, unassuming young folks, with plenty of money and no desirewhatever to make people aware of it. 

The host brought cigars and an extra steamer-chair to the wide veranda. "It's much cooler out here. We'll smoke while the girls tell each otherall about it. "

"I _should_ like to sit on something solid for a few minutes, " said thedoctor. "It was a most amazing drive. "

"We're pretty well used to the cañon, " said Stone. "Yet I can see how itwould strike an Easterner. "

"Indeed it did, Mr. Stone. There is a thrill in every turn of it, forme. I shall dream of it. "

"Were you delayed at the station?" queried Stone. 

"We wired, " said the doctor. "It seems that the telegram was notdelivered. Miss Lacharme explained that messages have to wait untilcalled for, unless money is wired for delivering them. "

"That is a fact, Doctor. Splendid system, isn't it?"

"I am really sorry that we put Miss Lacharme to so much trouble. She hadto scare up a team on the instant. "

"Price, the storekeeper, brought you up, didn't he?"

"I don't think so. Miss Louise called him 'Collie, ' I believe. He'd makea splendid army surgeon, that young man! He has nerves like temperedsteel wire, and I never saw such cool strength. "

"Oh, that's nothing. Any one could drive Price's horses. "

The doctor smiled. "The young man confided to me that their names were'Boyar' and 'Apache, ' I believe. They both lived up to the last one'sname. "

"Well, I'll be--Here, have a fresh cigar! I want to smoke on that. Hu-m-m! Did that young pirate drive those saddle-animals--drive 'em fromthe station to this rancho--Whew! I congratulate you, Doctor. You'llnever be killed in a runaway. He's a good horseman, but--Well, I'll talkto _him_. "

"Pardon me if I ask you not to, Stone. The girls enjoyed it immensely. So did I. I believe the driver did. He never once lost his smile. "

"Collie is usually pretty level-headed, " said Walter Stone. "He musthave been put to it for horses. Price's team must have been out. "

"He's more than level-headed, " asserted Dr. Marshall. "He's magnetic. Icould feel confidence radiating from him like sunshine from a brickwall. "

"I think he'll amount to something, myself. Everything he tackles hetackles earnestly. He doesn't leave loose ends to be picked up by someone else later. I've had a reason to watch him specially. Three yearsago he was tramping it with a 'pal. ' A boy tramp. Now see what he'sgrown to be. "

"A _tramp_! No!"

"Fact. He's done pretty well for himself since he's been with us. He hada hard time of it before that. "

"I served my apprenticeship in the slums, " said Dr. Marshall. "East-Sidehospital. I think that I can also appreciate what you have done forhim. "

"Thank you, Doctor, --but the credit belongs with the boy. Hello! Hereare our girls again. " And Walter Stone and the doctor rose on theinstant. 

"I think I shall call you Uncle Walter, " said Anne Marshall, who had notmet Walter Stone until then. 

"I'm unworthy, " said the rancher, his eyes twinkling. "And I don't wantto be relegated to the 'uncle' class so soon. "

"_Thanksawfully_, " said Louise. 

"Jealous, mouse?"

"Indeed, no. I'm not Mrs. Marshall's husband. "

"I have already congratulated the doctor, " said Walter Stone, bowing. 

"Doctor, " said Anne, in her most formal manner. "You're antique. Whydon't you say something bright?"

"I do, every time I call you Anne. I really must go in and brush up abit, as you suggest. You'll excuse me, I'm sure. "

"Yes, indeed, --almost with pleasure. And, Doctor, _don't_ wear yourfountain-pen in your white vest pocket. You're not on duty, now. "

In the shadows of the mountain evening they congregated on the verandaand chatted about the East, the West, and incidentally about theproposed picnic they were to enjoy a few days later, when "boots andsaddles" would be the order of the day. "And the trails are not bad, Anne, " said Louise. "When you get used to them, you'll forget all aboutthem, but your pony won't. He'll be just as deliberate and anxious aboutyour safety, and his, at the end of the week as he was at thebeginning. "

"Imagine! A week of riding about these mountains! How Billy would haveenjoyed it, Doctor. "

"Yes. But I believe he is having a pretty good time where he is. "

"We wish he could be here, Anne, " said Louise. "I've never met yourbrother. He's always been away when I have been East. "

"Which has been his misfortune, " said Dr. Marshall. 

"He writes such beautiful letters about the desert and his miningclaim, --that's his latest fad, --and says he's much stronger. But Ibelieve they all say that--when they have his trouble, you know. "

"From Billy's last letter, I should say he was in pretty fair shape, "said the doctor. "He's living outdoors and at a good altitude, somewhereon the desert. He's making money. He posts his letters at a town called'Dagget, ' in this State. "

"Up above San Berdoo, " said Walter Stone. And he straightway driftedinto reverie, gazing at the bright end of his cigar until it faded inthe darkness. 

"Hello!" exclaimed Dr. Marshall, leaning forward. "Sounds like theexhaust of a pretty heavy car. I didn't imagine any one would drive thatcañon road after dark. "

"Unusual, " said Stone, getting to his feet. "Some one in a hurry. I'llturn on the porch-light and defy the mosquitoes. "

With a leonine roar and a succeeding clatter of empty cylinders, animmense racing-car stopped at the gate below. The powerful headlightshot a widening pathway through the night. Voices came indistinctly fromthe vicinity of the machine. Before Walter Stone had reached the bottomstep of the porch, a huge figure appeared from out the shadows. In theradiance of the porch-light stood a wonderfully attired stranger. Frockcoat, silk hat, patent leathers, striped trousers, and pearl gaiters, awhite vest, and a noticeable watch-chain adorned the driver of theautomobile. He stood for a minute, blinking in the light. Then he swepthis hat from his head with muscular grace. "Excuse me for intrudin', " hesaid. "I seen this glim and headed for it. Is Mr. Walter Stone atlee-sure?"

"I'm Walter Stone, " said the rancher, somewhat mystified. 

"My name's Summers, Jack Summers, proprietor of the Rose Girl Mine. " AndOverland Red, erstwhile sheriff of Abilene, cowboy, tramp, prospector, gunman, and many other interesting things, proffered a highly engravedcalling-card. Again he bowed profoundly, his hat in his hand, a whitecarnation in his buttonhole and rapture in his heart. He had seen Louiseagain--Louise, leaning forward, staring at him incredulously. Wouldn'tthe Rose Girl be surprised? She was. 

"I can't say that I quite understand--" began Stone. 

"Why, it's the man who borrowed my pony!" exclaimed Louise. 

"Correct, Miss. I--I come to thank you for lendin' me the cayuse thattime. "

Walter Stone simply had to laugh. "Come up and rest after your trip upthe cañon. Of course, you want to see Collie. He told me about yourfinding the claim. Says you have given him a quarter-interest. I'm gladyou're doing well. "

"I took a little run in to Los to get some new tires. The desert eats'em up pretty fast. The Guzzuh, she cast her off hind shoe the otherday. I was scared she'd go lame. Bein' up this way, I thought I'd rollup and see Collie. "

"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Stone. "You rode up, then?"

"Nope. The Guzzuh is me little old racin'-car. I christened her thatright after I got so as I could climb on to her without her pitchin' meoff. She's some bronc' she is. "

Overland Red, despite his outward regeneration, was Overland Red still, only a little more so. His overwhelming apparel accentuated hispeculiarities, his humorous gestures, his silent self-consciousness. Butthere was something big, forceful, and wholesouled about the man, something that attracted despite his incongruities. 

Anne Marshall was at once--as she told Louise later--"desperatelyinterested. " Dr. Marshall saw in Overland a new and exceedingly viriletype. Even gentle Aunt Eleanor received the irrepressible withunmistakable welcome. She had heard much of his history from Collie. Overland was as irresistible as the morning sun. While endeavoringearnestly to "do the genteel, " as he had assured Winthrop he would whenhe left him to make this visit, Overland had literally taken them bystorm. 

Young Dr. Marshall studied him, racking his memory for a name. Presentlyhe turned to his wife. "What was Billy's partner's name--the miner? I'veforgotten. "

"A Mr. Summers, I believe. Yes, I'm sure. Jack Summers, Billy called himin his letters. "

"Just a minute, " said the doctor, turning to Overland, who sat, huge-limbed, smiling, red-visaged, happy. "Pardon me. You said Mr. JackSummers, I believe? Do you happen to know a Mr. Winthrop, BillyWinthrop?"

"Me? What, Billy? Billy Winthrop? Say, is this me? I inhaled a whole lotof gasoline comin' up that grade, but I ain't feelin' dizzy. BillyWinthrop? Why--" And his exclamation subsided as he asked cautiously, "Did you know him?"

"I am his sister, " said Anne Marshall. 

Overland was dumbfounded. "His sister, " he muttered. "The one he writ toin New York. Huh! Yes, me and Billy's pardners. "

"Is he--is he better?" asked Anne hesitatingly. 

"Better! Say, lady, excuse me if I tell you he's gettin' so blame friskythat he's got me scared. Why, I left him settin' on a rock eatin' asardine san'wich with one hand and shootin' holes in all the tin cans insight with the other. 'So long, Red!' he hollers as I lit out with theburro to cross the range. 'So long, and don't let your feet slip. ' And_Pom!_ goes the . 45 that he was jugglin' and another tin can passedover. He takes a bite from the san'wich and then, _Pom!_ goes the gunagain and another tin can bites the dust, jest as free and easy as if hewasn't keepin' guard over thirty or forty thousand dollars' worth ofgold-dust and trouble, and jest as if he ain't got no lungs at all. "

"Billy must have changed a little, " ventured Dr. Marshall, smiling. 

"Changed? Excuse me, ladies. But when I first turned my lamps on him inLos, I says to myself if there wasn't a fella with one foot in the graveand the other on a banana-peel, I was mistook. And listen! He come outto the Mojave with me. He jest almost cried to come. I was scared it wasvi'lets and 'Gather at the River, ' without the melodeum, for him. Butyou never see a fella get such a chest! Search me if I knows where hegot it from, for he wasn't much bigger around in the works than amosquito when I took him up there. And eat! My Gosh, he can eat! And acomplexion like a Yaqui. And he can sleep longer and harder and louderthan a corral of gradin' mules on Saturday night! 'Course he's slimyet, but it's the kind of slim like rawhide that you could hobble aelephant with. And, say, he's a pardner on your life! Believe me, andI'm listenin' to myself, too. "

"His lungs are better, then?"

"Lungs? He ain't got none. They're belluses--prime California skirtin'leather off the back. Lady, that kid is a wonder. "

"I'm awfully glad Billy is better. He _must_ be, judging from what youtell me. "

"I wisht I'd 'a' had him runnin' the 'Guzzuh' instead of that littlechicken-breasted chaffer they three-shelled on to me in Los Angeles. Ihired him because they said I 'd better take him along until I was somebetter acquainted with the machine. The Guzzuh ain't no ordinarybronc'. "

"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Dr. Marshall. 

"Uhuh. That's what I christened her. She's a racer. She's sixtyhoss-power, and sometimes I reckon I could handle sixty hosses easier toonce than I could her. We was lopin' along out in the desert, 'boutfifty miles an hour by the leetle clock on the dashboard, when all of asudden she lays back her ears and she bucks. I leans back and keeps herhead up, but it ain't no use. She gives a jump or two and says'_Guzzuh!_' jest like that, and quits. I climbs out and looked her over. She sure was balky. I was glad she said _somethin'_, if it was only'Guzzuh, ' instead of quittin' on me silent and scornful. Sounded likeshe was apologizin' for stoppin' up like that. I felt of her chest andshe was pretty much het up. When she cooled off, I started hereasy--sort of grazin' along pretendin' we wasn't goin' to lope again. When she got her second wind I give her her head, and she let out andloped clean into the desert town, without makin' a stumble or castin' ashoe. Paid three thousand for her in Los. She is guaranteed to do eightymiles on the level, and she does a whole lot of other things that ain'tjest on the level. She'd climb a back fence if you spoke right to her. Asand-storm ain't got nothin' on her when she gets her back up. "

"Your car must be unique, " suggested Walter Stone. 

"Nope. She ain't a 'Yew-neck. ' I forget her brand. I ain't had her verylong. But I can run her now better than that littletwo-dollar-and-a-half excuse they lent me in Los. He loses his nervecomin' up the cañon there. You see the Guzzuh got to friskin' round theturns on her hind feet. So I gives him a box of candy to keep him quietand takes the reins myself. I got my foot in the wrong stirrup on thestart--was chokin' off her wind instead of feedin' her. Then I got myfoot on the giddap-dingus and we come. The speed-clock's limit is ninetymiles an hour and we busted the speed clock comin' down that lastgrade. But we're here. "

Dr. Marshall and Walter Stone gazed at each other. They laughed. Overland smiled condescendingly. Anne Marshall had recourse to herhandkerchief, but Louise did not smile. 

"Does Billy ever drive your car?" asked Anne Marshall presently. 

"He drives her in the desert and in the hills some. He drove her into asand-hill once clean up to her withers. When he came back, --he kind ofwent ahead a spell to look over the ground, so he says, --he apologizesto her like a gent. Oh, he likes her more 'n I do. Bruck twosearchlights at one hundred dollars a glim, but that's nothin'. Oh, yes, Billy's got good nerve. "

Overland shifted his foot to his other knee and leaned back luxuriously, puffing fluently at his cigar. 

"Billy did get to feelin' kind of down, a spell back. He had a argumentwith a Gophertown gent about our claim. I wasn't there at the time, butwhen I come back, I tied up Billy's leg--"

"Goodness! His leg?" exclaimed Anne. 

"Yes, ma'am. The Gophertown gent snuck up and tried to stick Billy upwhen Billy was readin' po'try--some of mine. Billy didn't scare so easy. He reaches for his gun. Anyhow, the Gophertown gent's bullet hit a rock, and shied up and stung Billy in the leg. Billy never misses a tin cannow'days, and the gent was bigger than a can. We never seen nothin' ofhim again. "

"Gracious, it's perfectly awful!" cried Anne. 

"Yes, lady. That's what Billy said. He said he didn't object to gettin'shot at, but he did object to gettin' hit, especially when he wasreadin' po'try. Said it kind of bruck his strand of thought. That guywas no gent. "

Walter Stone again glanced at Dr. Marshall. Aunt Eleanor rose, biddingthe men good-night. Louise and Mrs. Marshall followed somewhatreluctantly. Stone disappeared to return with cigars, whiskey andseltzer, which he placed at Overland's elbow. "My friend Dr. Marshall isan Easterner, " he said. 

Overland waved a comprehending hand, lit another cigar, and settledback. "Now I can take the hobbles off and talk nacheral. When you gentswant me to stop, just say 'Guzzuh. '"

CHAPTER XIX

"TO CUT MY TRAIL LIKE THAT!"

Overland Red was concluding his last yarn, a most amazing account of"The night the Plancher boys shot up Abilene. "

It was exactly two o'clock by Dr. Marshall's watch. 

"Both my guns was choked up with burnt powder. I reached down andborrowed two guns off a gent what wasn't usin' his jest then. Next day Iwas elected sheriff unanimous. They was seven of us left standin'. Thatwas back in '98. " Overland yawned and stood up. 

"The boys are all asleep now, " said Walter Stone. "We have plenty ofroom here. You'll not object to taking one of the guest-rooms as youfind it, I'm sure. "

"For better or for worse, as the pote says. " And Overland grinned. "ButI got to put that little chaffer to roost somewhere. "

"That's so. "

"I'll go wake him up. " And Overland strode to the racing-car. The"chaffer" had departed for parts unknown. 

"I guess he was scared at that last grade, " said Overland, returning tothe house. "He's gone. He must 'a' been scared, to beat it back down theroad afoot. "

"Perhaps he has gone to the stables, " said Stone. "Well, we'll take careof you here. You can see Collie in the morning. "

Overland, closing the door of the spacious, cool guest-room, glancedabout curiously. What was it made the place seem so different from eventhe most expensive hotel suites? The furniture was very plain. Thedecorations were soft-toned and simple. "It's--it's because the RoseGirl lives here, I guess, " he soliloquized. "Now this kind of a roostwould jest suit Billy, but it makes me feel like walkin' on eggs. Thishere grazin' is too good for me. "

He undressed slowly, folding his unaccustomed garments with great care. He placed his automatic pistol on the chair by the bed. Then he creptbeneath the sheets, forgetting to turn out the light. "Huh! Gettin'absent-minded like the old perfessor what picked up a hairbrush insteadof a lookin'-glass to see if he needed shavin'. He was dum' near scaredto death to see how his beard was growin'. " And Overland chuckled as heturned out the lights. 

He could not go to sleep at once. He missed the desert night--the spacesand the stars. "I left here in a hurry once, " he muttered. "'Bout threeyears ago. Then I was kiddin' Collie about wearin' silk pejammies. Now Igot 'em--got 'em on, by thunder! Don't know as I feel any heftier in theintellec'. And I can't show 'em to nobody. What's the good of havin' 'emif nobody knows it? But I can hang 'em on the bedpost in the mornin', careless like, jest like I was raised to it. Them pejammies cost fourdollars a leg. Some class. . . . " And he drifted to sleep. 

After breakfast Dr. Marshall, who had taken a fancy to Overland, strolled with him over to the bunk-house. Most of the men were on therange. Collie was assembling bits and bridles, saddles, cinchas, andspurs, to complete an equipment for the proposed camping trip in thehills. He was astounded at Overland's appearance. However, he hadabsorbed Western ideals rapidly. He was sincerely glad, overjoyed, tosee his old friend, but he showed little of it in voice and manner. Heshook hands with a brief, "How, Red!" and went on with his work. 

Dr. Marshall, after expressing interest in the equipment, excusedhimself and wandered over to the corrals, where he admired the horses. 

"Where did you get 'em?" queried Collie, adjusting the length of a pairof stirrup-leathers. 

"These?" And Overland spread his coat-tails and ruffled. "Why, out ofthe old Mojave. Dug 'em up with a little pick and shovel. "

"You said in your letter you found the claim. "

"Uhuh. Almost fell over it before I did, though. We never found theother things, by the track. New ties. No mark. Say, that Billy WinthropI writ about is the brother of them folks stayin' here! What do youthink!"

"Wish I was out there with you fellows, " said Collie. 

"You're doin' pretty good right here, kiddo. The boss don't think you'rethe worst that ever came acrost, and I expect the ladies can put up withhavin' you on the same ranch by the way they talk. Got a hoss of yourown yet?"

"Nope. I got my eye on one, though. Say, Red, this is the best place towork. The boss is fine. I'm getting forty a month now, and savin' it. The boys are all right, too. Brand Williams, the foreman--"

"Brand who?"

"Williams. He came from Wyoming. "

"Well, this here's gettin' like a story and not like real livin'. Why, Iknowed old Brand in Mex. In the old days when a hoss and a gun was aboutall a guy needed to set up housekeepin'. We was pals. So he's foremanhere, eh? Well, you follow his trail close about cattle or hosses andyou'll win out. "

"I been doing that, " said Collie. "The other day he told me to keep myeye on one of the boys. Silent Saunders, he's called. Kind of funny. Idon't know anything about Saunders. "

"Well, you bank on it. Stack 'em up chin-high on it, Collie, if Brandsays that. He knows some-thin' or he would never talk. Brand is aparticular friend of yours?"

"You bet!"

"Well, tie to him. What he says is better than fine gold as the potesays. I reckon coarse gold suits me better, outside of po'try. How doesthe Saunders insec' wear his clothes?"

"He's kind of lame in one arm and--here he comes now. You can see foryourself. The one on that pinto. "

As Saunders rode past the two men, he turned in his saddle. DespiteOverland's finery he recognized him at once. 

Overland's gaze never left the other's hands. "Mornin', " said Overland, nodding. "Ain't you grazin' pretty far this side of Gophertown?"

"Who the hell are you talkin' to?" Saunders asked venomously, and hiseyes narrowed. 

Overland grinned, and carelessly shifted the lapel of his coat frombeneath which peeped the butt of his automatic pistol. Collie felt hisscalp tightening. There was something tense and suggestive in the air. 

"I'm talkin' to a fella that ought to know better than to get sassy tome, " said Overland, "or to cut my trail like that. "

Saunders rode on. 

"Seen him before?" asked Collie. 

"Yep. Twice--over the end of a gun. He come visitin' me and Billy at awater-hole out in the dry spot. We got to exchangin' opinions. Two ofmine he ain't forgot, I guess. "

"Saunders is branded above the elbows on both arms, " said Collie. "He'sbeen shot up pretty bad. "

"You don't tell! Wonder how that happened. Mebby he was practicin' thedouble roll and got careless. Now, I wonder!"

"He's one of the 'bunch'?" said Collie, suddenly awake to the situation. "Come on over to the bunk-house where we can talk, Red. I'll introduceyou regular to Silent. "

"All right. Here, you walk on the other side. I'm left-handed when Ishake with him. "

But Saunders was not at the bunk-house. Instead he had ridden on down tothe gate and out upon the Moonstone Trail. He had become acquainted withDeputy Tenlow. He would make things interesting for the man who had"winged" him out in the desert. 

"I smell somethin' burnin', " said Overland significantly. "The Saundersman has got somethin' up his sleeve. He didn't turn his pony into thecorral, did he?"

"No. "

"All right. Now, about them papers and your part of this here claim . . . "

For an hour they talked about the claim, Winthrop, Collie's prospects, and their favorite topic, the Rose Girl. They were speaking of her whenshe appeared at the bunk-house door. 

"Good-morning, Mr. Summers. Mrs. Marshall wished to know if you wouldtell her more about her brother--when you have visited with Collie. Shewas afraid you might leave without her seeing you again. "

"I was thinkin' about that myself, " replied Overland. "Yes, Miss, I'llbe right over direct. "

Louise nodded, smiled, and was gone. 

"Say, Red, you better go quick, in the machine, " said Collie, fearfulthat Saunders was up to mischief. 

"Grand idea, that, " said Overland, calmly brushing his hat. "But Tenlowand Saunders--that you're thinkin' about--ain't neither of 'em goin' toride up too close to me again. They are goin' to lay for me down thecañon. They'll string a riata across the road and hold up the car, mostlikely. They know I can't get out of here any other road. "

"Then what will you do?"

"Me? Why, me and the Guzzuh'll go down the trail jest as slow and easyas a baby-buggy pushed by a girl that's waitin' in the park for herbeau. "

"You'll ditch the machine and get all broke up, " ventured Collie. 

"I am havin' too good a time to last, I know, seein' the Rose Girl againand you and visitin' the folks up to the house. Well, if it's my turn, Iain't kickin'. Sorry Brand ain't here. I'd like to see him. Here's alittle old map I drawed of the hills, and how to get to the claim incase I get detained for speedin'. Get Brand, if anything happens. He's asteady old boat and he'll tell you what to do. "

"But, Red, you don't think--?"

"Not when it hurts me dome, " interrupted Overland. "I got a hunch I'llsee you again before long. So long, Chico. I got to shine some of therust off my talk and entertain the ladies. You might get into my class, too, some day, if you knowed anything except hoss-wrastlin' andcow-punchin', " he added affectionately. 

And Overland departed, sublimely content and not in the least disturbedby future possibilities. "He's the great kid!" he kept repeating tohimself. "He's the same kid--solid clean through. . . . Good-morning, ladies. Now about Billy--er--Mr. Winthrop; why, as I was say-in' lastnight. . . . No, thanks, I'll set facin' the road. Sun? Why, lady, I'msun-cured, myself. "

CHAPTER XX

THE LED HORSE

Anne Marshall had stepped from the porch to the living-room. OverlandRed was alone with Louise. 

Facing her quickly, his easy banter gone, his blue eyes intense, untroubled, magnetic, he drew a deep breath. "They're waiting for medown the cañon, about now, " he said, and his tone explained his speech. 

Louise frowned slightly, studying his face. "That is unfortunate, justnow, " she said slowly. 

"Or most any time--for the other fella, " responded Overland cheerfully. 

The girl gazed at the toe of her slipper. "I know you didn't speakbecause you were afraid. What do you intend?"

"If I ain't oversteppin' the rules in invitin' you--why, I was goin' tosay, 'Miss Lacharme, wouldn't you like to take a little buggy-ride inthe Guzzuh, nice and slow. She's awful easy ridin' if you don't rein hertoo strong. '"

"I don't know, " said Louise pensively. "Your car can only hold two?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"I couldn't run away and leave Mrs. Marshall. Of course, you would goon--after--after we were in the valley. How could I get back?"

"That's so!" exclaimed Overland, with some subtlety, pretending he hadnot thought of that contingency. "'Course Collie could ride down aheadwith a spare hoss. You see the sheriff gent and Saunders--"

"Saunders? Our man Saunders?"

"Uhuh. Me and him ain't friends exactly. I figure he's rode down to tellthe Tenlow man that I'm up here. "

"You are sure?"

"Yes, Miss. I don't make no mistakes about him. "

"Then one of our men has gone to get the deputy to arrest you, and youare our guest. "

"Thanks, Miss, for sayin' that. It's worth gettin' pinched to be _your_guest. "

"I did intend to ride down for the mail. Boyar needs exercising. "

"So does the Guzzuh, Miss. It's queer how she acts when she ain't beenworked every day. "

"I don't believe Anne would care to come, in the machine. I'll ask her. "And Louise stepped to the living-room. 

Collie, who had been watching anxiously from the corrals, came acrossthe yard to the veranda. He was dressed for riding, and he had a gun onhis hip. Overland scowled. "You little idiot, " he said, "when your UncleJack's brains get ossified, just give the sad news to the press. You'rejest itchin' to get in a muss and get plugged. I ain't. I figure to ridedown the Moonstone Trail, steerin' the Guzzuh with one hand and smellin'a bunch of roses in the other. Watch my smoke. Now, beat it!"

Louise, coming blithely from the living-room, nodded to Overland. Herpensiveness had departed. Her cheeks were flushed. "Oh, Collie! SaddleBoyar--" she began, but Overland coughed disapprovingly. He did not wishTenlow and Saunders to suspect that the led horse was for Louise. 

"Or--no. Saddle Sarko, " said Louise, at once aware of Overland's plan. "And have him at the foot of the hill for me as soon as you can. "

"Yes, Miss Louise. " And Collie departed for the corrals wonderingly. Overland was too much for him. 

They had luncheon and allowed Collie two hours to arrive at the valleylevel with the led pony. After luncheon Louise appeared in riding-skirtand boots. "Mr. Summers is going to take me for a ride in his new car, "she said. "Don't worry, aunty. He is going to drive slowly. He findsthat he has to leave unexpectedly. "

"I'm sorry you are going without seeing Mr. Stone and Dr. Marshallagain, " said Aunt Eleanor. "You'll be careful, won't you?"

"So am I, ma'am. --Yes, I'll run slow. "

"But how will you come back?" queried Anne. 

"Collie has gone ahead with a spare pony. Good-bye, aunty. "

"I can't thank you enough for all that you have done for Billy. I am soglad he's well and strong again. We never could manage him. Good-bye, and tell Billy he _must_ come over and see us right away. "

"You'll drive carefully?" queried Aunt Eleanor again. 

"Jest like I was goin' to get pinched, " said Overland, bowing. 

 * * * * *

As Collie rode down the last pitch, leading the restive Sarko, DickTenlow stepped from the brush. "'Morning, Collie. Out for a littlepasear?"

"Shouldn't wonder, Dick. "

"Horses are lookin' good. Feed good on the hills yet?"

"Pretty good. "

"I hear you got company up to the Moonstone. "

"Yep. Eastern folks, doctor and his wife. " And Collie looked the deputyhard in the eye. 

"Oh, that was their machine I heard coughin' up the cañon last night, eh?"

"I didn't ask them about that, " replied Collie. 

"You're improvin' since you first come into these hills, " said Tenlow, with some sarcasm. 

"I'm holdin' down a better job than I did then, " said Colliegood-naturedly. 

"Well, I ain't. I'm holdin' the same job, which you will recollect. Itain't much of a job, but it's good to requisition that cayuse you'releadin'. "

"What you kiddin' about?"

"Straight goods, " said Tenlow, reaching for Sarko's reins. "Just handover your end of that tie-rope. "

"I guess not, Dick. You're on the wrong trail. What do you think I am?"

"Same as I always thought. "

"Then you want to change your opinion of me, " said Collie, relinquishingthe tie-rope. "I ain't breaking the law, but you are going to hear moreabout this. "

"I'll risk that. You can ride right along, pronto. "

"And you keep Sarko? I guess not! I'll stick. "

"You can't throw no bluff this morning, " said Tenlow, irritated by theyouth's persistence. "I guess you know what I mean. "

"You got the horse, but I don't leave here without him, " said Colliestubbornly. And there was an underlying assurance about Collie'sattitude that perplexed the deputy, who was satisfied that the led horsewas for Overland Red's use. 

Saunders, hiding back in the brush, cursed Tenlow's stupidity. To havelet Collie go on and have followed him under cover would have been theonly sensible plan. Rapidly approximating the outcome of this muddle, Saunders untied his pony and rode back toward the ranch, taking anunused and densely covered bridle-trail. 

From up in the cañon came the thunder of the racing-car. Far above themTenlow and Collie could see it creeping round a turn in the road. Itdisappeared in a dip, to reappear almost instantly, gliding swiftly downthe long slant toward the valley. The staccato drumming of the exhaustechoed along the hillside. Overland's silk hat shone bravely in the sun. Beside the outlaw was the figure of a woman. Tenlow foresawcomplications and muttered profanely. 

Down the next ditch rolled the car, rocking to the unevenness of themountain road. Overland opened the throttle, the machine shot forward, and in a few seconds drew up abreast of the deputy. 

"Thank you so much, Mr. Summers, " said Louise, stepping from the car. "How are you, Mr. Tenlow. "

"How'do, Miss Lacharme. "

"Good-bye, Mr. Summers. I enjoyed the ride very much. "

"Just a minute--" began the deputy. 

"Where's my pony, Collie? He didn't get away, did he?"

"No, ma'am. Mr. Tenlow 'requisitioned' him. Thought I'd wait till youcame along so I could explain. "

"Requisitioned my pony! What do you mean?"

"It's this way, Miss Lacharme. That man there in the machine is wanted. He--"

"What has that to do with my pony, please?"

"I guess you know who he is. I figured he was layin' to get away on thatpony. "

"You want to go back to school, pardner, and learn to figure correct, "said Overland, his foot on the accelerator pedal of the throbbing car. "One minus one is nothin'. "

"Hold on there!" cried Tenlow, striding forward. Louise stood betweenthe deputy and the car. 

"My horse, please, " she said quietly. As she spoke the car roared, jumped forward, and shot down the smooth grade of the valley road. 

"Now, Mr. Tenlow, I wish you would explain this to me. And then to UncleWalter. I sent one of our men with a horse. He was to wait for me here. What right have you to interfere with him?"

"I guess I got as much right as you have to interfere with me, " saidTenlow sullenly. 

"Hold on there!" cried Collie, jumping forward. 

"Collie, I'll talk with him. "

"Take my horse, Miss Louise, " said Collie, flushing. 

"No, indeed. I'll ride Sarko. "

"I'll get him, " said Collie. 

"No. Mr. Tenlow will get him, I am sure. "

"A woman can make any deal look smooth--if she is interested, " saidTenlow, turning toward the brush. He came out leading the pony. 

"Thank you. Collie, you may get the mail, please. "

Collie stood watching her as she rode away. Then with much deliberationhe tied his own pony Apache to a clump of greasewood. He unbuckled hisbelt and flung it, with gun and holster, to the ground. 

"Now, " he said, his face blazing white with suppressed anger. "I'm goingto make you eat that speech about any woman making things looksmooth--_if she's interested_. "

"You go on home or I'll break you in two, " said Tenlow. 

Collie's reply was a flail-like blow between Tenlow's eyes. The deputystaggered, gritted his teeth, and flung himself at the younger man. Thefight was unequal from the beginning. Apache snorted and circled as thebushes crashed and crackled. 

A few minutes later, Tenlow strode from the brush leading his pony. Hewiped the blood and sweat from his face and spat viciously. 

 * * * * *

Louise, riding homeward slowly, heard a horse coming behind her. Shereined Sarko and waited. Collie saw no way out of it, so he rode up, grinning from a bruised and battered face. 

"Why, Collie!"

The young man grinned again. His lips were swollen and one eye wasnearly closed. 

Dismounting, Louise stepped to the ford. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she cried. "Your face is terribly bruised. And your eye--" She could not helpsmiling at Collie's ludicrous appearance. 

"I took a fall, " he mumbled blandly. "Apache here is tricky at times. "

Louise's gaze was direct and reproachful. "Here, let me bathe your face. Stoop down, like that. You don't look so badly, now that the dirt isoff. Surely you didn't fall on your _eye_?"

Collie tried to laugh, but the effort was not very successful. 

Tenderly she bathed his bruised face. Her nearness, her touch, made himforget the pain. Suddenly he seized her hand and kissed it, leaving astain of blood where his lips had touched. She was thrilled with amingled feeling of pride and shame--pride in that he had fought becauseof her, as she knew well enough, and shame at the brutality of theaffair which she understood as clearly as though she had witnessed it. She was too honest to make herself believe she was not flattered, in away, but she made Collie think otherwise. 

He evaded her direct questioning stubbornly. Finally she asked whetherMr. Tenlow "had taken a fall, " or not. 

"Sure he did!" replied Collie. "A couple or three years ago--tryin' tooutride Overland Red. Don't you remember?"

"Collie, you're a regular hypocrite. "

"Yes, ma'am. "

"And you look--frightful. "

"Yes, ma'am. "

"You're not a bit ashamed. "

"Yes, ma'am, I am. "

"Don't say 'Yes, ma'am' all the time. You don't seem to be ashamed. Whyshould you be, though. Because you were fighting?"

"No, Miss Louise. Because I got licked. "

Louise mounted Sarko and rode beside Collie silently. Presently shetouched his arm. "But did you?" she asked, her eyes grave and her toneconveying a subtle question above the mere letter. 

"No! By thunder!" he exclaimed. "Not in a hundred years!"

"Well, get some raw meat from the cook. I'll give your explanation toDr. And Mrs. Marshall, for you will have to be ready for the tripto-morrow. You will have to think of a better explanation for the boys. "

While riding homeward, Louise dropped her glove. Collie was afootinstantly and picked it up. "Can I keep it?" he said. 

The girl looked curiously at him for a moment. "No, I think not, Collie, " she said gently. 

Collie rode up to the corrals that afternoon whistling as blithely as hecould considering his injuries. He continued to whistle as he unsaddledApache. 

At the bunk-house Brand Williams looked at him once, and bent doublewith silent laughter. The boys badgered him unmercifully. "Fell off ahoss!--Go tell that to the chink!--Who stepped on your face, kid?--Beenridin' on your map, eh?--Where _was_ the wreck?--Who sewed up youreye?"

"S-s-h-h, fellas, " said Miguel, grinning. "If you make all that noise, how you going to hear the tune he is whistling, hey?"

Collie glanced at Saunders, who had said nothing. "Got anything to offeron the subject, Silent?" he asked. 

"Nope. I take mine out in thinkin'. "

"You're going to have a chance to do a whole lot more of it beforelong, " said Collie; and he said it with a suggestiveness that did notescape the taciturn foreman, Brand Williams. 

CHAPTER XXI

BORROWED PLUMES

"He speaks of a pretty round sum, " said Walter Stone, returning theletter that Collie had asked him to read. "I don't know but that theland you speak of is a good investment. You were thinking of raisingstock--horses?"

"Yes, sir. The Oro people are making good at it. The land north of youis good grazing-land and good water. Of course, I got to wait for awhile. Red says in the letter that my share of the claim so far is fivethousand. That wouldn't go far on that piece of land, but I've savedsome, too. "

"You might make a payment to hold the land, " said Stone. 

"I don't like that way. I want to buy it all at once. "

Walter Stone smiled. Collie was ambitious, and rather inexperienced. "Soyou think you will leave us and go to mining until you have made enoughmore to buy it outright?"

"Yes, sir. I don't want you to think I ain't satisfied here. I like ithere. "

"I know you do, Collie. Well, think it over. Prospecting is gambling. It is sometimes magnificent gambling. Miss Lacharme's father was aprospector. We have never heard from him since he went out on thedesert. But that has nothing to do with it. If I didn't believe you'dmake a first-rate citizen, I shouldn't hesitate a minute about yourgoing. I'd rather see you ranching it. We need solid men here inCalifornia. There are so many remittance-men, invalids, idlers, speculators, and unbalanced enthusiasts that do more harm than good, that we need a few _new_ landmarks. We need a few new cornerstones andkeystones to stiffen the structure that is building so fast. I realizethat we must build from the ground up--not hang out tents from thetrees. That day is past. "

"It's a big thing--to be stuck on California more than getting rich, "said Collie. 

"Yes. The State of California is a bank--a new bank. The more depositorswe have, the stronger we shall be--provided our depositors have faith inus. We have their good will now. We need solid, two-handed men who cantake hold and prove that investment in our State is profitable. "

"You bet!" exclaimed Collie, catching some of the older man'senthusiasm. Then he added with less enthusiasm: "But how about suchthings as the Jap ranchers dumping carloads of onions in the rivers andmelons in the ocean, by the ton, and every one cut so it can't be usedby poor folks? If Eastern people got on to that they would shy offpretty quick. "

"Yes, " said the rancher, frowning. "It's true enough that such things dohappen. I've known of boatloads of fish being dumped back in the oceanbecause the middlemen wouldn't give the fishermen a living price. Inwestern Canada thousands of bushels of grain have been burned on theground because the Eastern market was down and the railroads would notmake a rate that would allow a profit to the farmer. Such things are notlocal to California. California is in the limelight just now and suchthings are naturally prominent. "

"It looks awful bad for good fruit and vegetables and fish to be thrownaway when folks have to pay ten cents for a loaf of bread no bigger thana watch-charm, " said Collie. 

"It is bad. Crookedness in real estate transactions is bad. We don'twant to waste our time, however, in feeling worried about it. What wewant to do is to show the other fellow that _our_ work is successful andstraight. "

"Yes, sir. A fellow has got to believe in something. I guess believingin his own State is the best. "

"Of course. Now, about your leaving us. I had rather you would stayuntil the Marshalls go. Louise and Mrs. Stone depend on you so much. "

"Sure I will! You see, Red don't say to come, in his letter, but he sentthe check for three hundred if I did want to come. There's no hurry. "

"All right. Hello, Louise! Dinner waiting?"

"Yes, Uncle Walter. How are you, Collie?" And Louise nodded to him. "What are you two hatching? You seem so serious. "

"Plans for the ultimate glory of the State, " said Stone. 

"Ultimate?"

"Yes. We've been going beneath the surface of things a little. Collieexpects to go even deeper, so he tells me. "

Collie walked slowly toward the bunk-house. Halfway there he tookOverland's check from the letter and studied it. He put it back into hispocket. As he passed the corrals, Apache nickered in a friendly way. "Haven't got a thing for you, " said Collie. "Not a bite. We're not goin'to town to-day. To-morrow, maybe, for there'll be doings at the OroRancho and we'll be there--we'll be there!"

With a run and a spring the young man leaped the gate and trotted intothe bunk-house. 

Brand Williams was solemnly shaving. He turned a lathered face towardCollie whose abrupt entrance had all but caused the foreman tosacrifice his left ear. "Well, " he drawled, "who is dead?"

"You mean, Who is alive? I guess. Say, Brand, what do you think thatYuma horse over at the Oro is worth?"

"That dam' outlaw? Ain't worth the trouble of mentioning. "

"But, oh, Brand, she's built right! I tell you! Short-coupled, and themlegs and withers! They ain't a pony in the valley can touch her. Andonly three years old!"

"Nor a man neither, " said Williams. 

"She's been scared to death because the fellows was scared of her andstarted in wrong. "

"So'll the man be that tries to ride her. Say, I seen thatcopper-colored, china-eyed, she-son of a Kansas cyclone put Bull O'Tooleso far to the bad once that his return ticket expired long before he gotback. I tell you, kid, she's _outlaw_. She's got the disposition of aComanche with a streak of lightnin' on a drunk throwed in. You keep offthat hoss!"

"Maybe, " said Collie. "But I notice you put me to breakin' about all thestock on this ranch that you can't handle yourself. "

Which was true. Williams shaved and perspired in silence. 

"Let's see, " he said presently, emerging from the wash-basin. "When'sthat barbecue comin' off?"

"To-morrow. As if you didn't know!"

"Sunday, eh? Well, you might as well get killed on a Sunday as any otherday. I suppose your askin' about that hoss means you are thinkin' ofridin' her, eh?"

"I was thinkin' of it. They are putting her up as a chance for the manthat can. She has put three of their boys to the bad. Matt Gleason, theOro foreman, says he'll give her to any Moonstoner that can stay on hertwo minutes. "

"He said 'Moonstoner' particular?" queried Williams. 

"He did. To me. I was over tryin' to buy her. "

"You're plumb loco. So he said any _Moonstoner_ eh? Any Moonstoner. Bycrip, I've a notion--Let's see, there's Miguel--he's too swift. BillyDime might make it if he didn't get too much red-eye in him first. Budain't steady enough--and it wouldn't look right if I was the only riderhere to take a chance. I dunno. "

"What you gaspin' about?" queried Collie. 

"Nothin', kid. You can get hosses ready for all the ladies for to-morrowmornin' at six sharp. Sabe? I got orders to send you over with 'em. Mebby you're some proud now, eh? Well, don't fall off Apache pertendin'you're so polite you can't spit. "

"What you sore about, Brand?"

"I was thinkin' what a slashin' string of riders we got. Here a littleold ranch like the Oro says they'll give a hoss to any Moonstoner whatkin stay on him for two minutes. It's plumb sickenin'. Kids! Jest kids, on this ranch. "

"That so? Say, Brand, you ain't got rid of so much English talk at oncesince I been here. You ought to talk more. You keep too quiet. Talkingsociable will help to take the wrinkles out of your neck. "

"You talk so much you'll never live to get any. "

"Say, Brand. "

"Uhuh. "

"Will you lend me the Chola spurs and that swell quirt old Miguelplaited for you, and your Mexican bridle, just for to-morrow?"

"So that's what you been lovin' up to me for, eh?"

"Lovin' up to you, you darned old--darned old--_dude_, you. "

"Hold on! You said it! Take the spurs! Take the quirt! Take the bridle!Take the hat and gloves with the silk roses on! Anybody that's got nerveenough to call _me_ a _dude_ can take anything I got. Say, you don'twant to borrow a pair of _pants_, do you?"

Honors were about even when Collie left the bunk-house, his arms ladenwith the foreman's finery. He colored to his hair as he saw Louisecoming toward him. He fumbled at the gate, opened it, and stood asidefor her to pass. As she smiled and thanked him, he heard his namecalled. 

"Hey!" shouted Williams, coming suddenly from the bunk-house. "Hey, Collie! You went away without them pants! I'll lend 'em to you--"

Collie, his face flaming, strode down the trail, the blood drumming inhis ears. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE YUMA COLT

The Oro Rancho sent out word that the fiftieth year of its existencewould be celebrated with an old-fashioned Spanish barbecue. Theinvitation was general, including every one within a radius of fiftymiles. 

Added to the natural interest in good things to eat and drink was thatof witnessing the pony races. Each rancher would bring, casually, almostaccidentally, as it were, one pony that represented its owner's idea ofspeed and quality. No set programme offered, which made the races allthe more interesting in that they were genuine. 

The Oro Ranch had long ago established and proudly maintained areputation for breeding the best saddle-and work-stock in SouthernCalifornia. In fact, the ranch survived the competition of theautomobile chiefly because it was the only important stock-raising ranchin the southland. 

Good feeling went even so far as to include the sheep-ranchers of theold Spanish Grant, by special invitation. 

It was the delight and pride of native Californians to ride their bestsaddle-horses on such occasions. True, motor-cars came from the city andfrom the farthest homes, but locally saddle-horses of all sizes andkinds were in evidence. Sleek bays with "Kentucky" written in everyrippling muscle, single-footed in beside heavy mountain ponies, wellboned, broad of knee, strong of flank, and docile; lean mustangs of thevalley, short-coupled buckskins with the endurance of live rawhide;Mexican pintos, restless and gay in carved leather, and silvertrappings; scrawny stolid cayuses that looked half-starved, but thatcould out-eat and out-last many a better-built horse; they all came, andtheir riders were immediately made welcome. 

Under the trees, along the corrals and fences, in and around thestables, stood the ponies, heads tossing, bits jingling, stamping, thoroughly alive to the importance of the festive occasion, and fillingthe eye with an unforgettable picture--a living vignette of the old daysof the range and riata. 

Mrs. Stone, Mrs. Marshall, Louise, Dr. Marshall, and Walter Stone wereamong the earlier arrivals. A half-dozen men sprang to take their horsesas they rode up, but Collie gathered the bridle-reins and led the poniesto the shade of the pepper trees. Then he wandered over to the corrals. His eyes glowed as he watched the sleek ponies dodging, wheeling, circling like a battalion, and led by a smooth-coated, copper-hued mare, young, lithe, straight-limbed, and as beautifully rounded as a Grecianbronze. He moistened his lips as he watched her. He pushed back his hat, felt for tobacco and papers, and rolled a cigarette. This was therenowned "Yuma colt, " the outlaw. He wanted her. She was a horse in athousand. 

In some strange way he was conscious that Louise stood beside him, before he turned and raised his sombrero. 

"More beautiful than strong men or beautiful women, " said Louise. 

"That's so, Miss Louise. Because they just live natural and act natural. And that copper-colored mare, --she's only a colt yet, --there's a horse aman would be willing to work seven years for like the man in the Bibledid for his wife. "

Louise smiled. "Would you work seven years for her?" she asked. 

"I would, if I had to, " he said enthusiastically. 

"Of course, because you really love horses, don't you?"

"Better than anything else. Of course, there are mean ones. But a realgood horse comes close to making an ordinary man feel ashamed ofhimself. Why, see what a horse will do! He will go anywhere--work allday and all night if he has to--run till he breaks his heart to save afellow's life, and always be a friend. A horse never acts like eighthours was his day's work. He is willing at any time and all thetime--and self-respectin' and clean. I reckon a knowin' horse just plumbloves a man that is good to him. "

Louise, her gray eyes wide and pensive, gazed at the young cowboy. "Howold is the colt?" she asked. 

"They say three years. But she's older than that in brains. She isleading older horses than her. "

"Then if you worked seven years for her, she would be ten years oldbefore you owned her. "

"You caught me there. I didn't think of that. "

"Uncle Walter says she is outlaw. I believe she could be tamed. Boyarwas pretty wild before he was broken to ride. "

"If you want that pony, Miss Louise, she's yours. I guess I could breakher. "

"They won't sell her. No, I was only romancing. Isn't she beautiful! Sheseems to be almost listening to us. What a head and what a quick, intelligent eye! Oh, you wonderful horse!" And laughing, Louise threw akiss to the Yuma colt. "I must go. I came over to see the horses beforethe crowd arrived. "

Collie stood hat in hand watching Louise as she strolled toward theranch-house. He saw her stop and pat Boyar. 

"I kind of wish I was a horse myself, " he said whimsically. "Either theblack or the outlaw. She treats them both fine. "

Brand Williams, Bud Light, Parson Long, Billy Dime, and Miguel rode up, talking, joking, laughing. 

"Fall to the kid!" said Miguel, indicating Collie. "I guess I'm scaldedif he ain't nailed to the fence. He's just eating his head off thinkingabout the Yuma horse he dassent ride. No? Eh, Collie?"

"Hello, Miguel. Nope. I'm taking lessons in tendin' to my ownbusiness--like them. " And Collie nodded toward the horses. 

"Ain't he purty?" said Billy Dime. "All fussed up and walkin' round likea new rooster introducin' hisself to a set of strange hens. Oh, pshaw!"

"And you're making a noise like one of the hens trying to get the noticeof the new rooster, I guess. "

"Well, seem' I got the notice, come on over and I'll show you where theykeep the ice--with things on it, " said Billy Dime. 

The Moonstone riders dismounted, slapped the dust from their shirts andtrousers, and ambled over toward the refreshments. 

The little group, happy, talkative, pledged each other and the MoonstoneRanch generously. 

Brand Williams, close to Collie, nudged him. "If you are thinkin' oftakin' a fall out of the outlaw cayuse, don't hit this stuff much, " hesaid. And Collie nodded. 

The Moonstoners would one and all back Boyar for a place in the finalsof the pony races, despite the Mexican "outfit" that already mingledwith them making bets on their favorite pinto. 

"Who's ridin' Boyar?" queried Bud Light. 

"In the races? Why, Miguel here, " said Williams, slapping the Mexican onthe shoulder. "He don't weigh much, but he's some glue-on-a-sliver whenit comes to racin' tricks. The other Mexicans are after our pesos thistime. Last year we skinned 'em so bad with Boyar takin' first that someof 'em had to wait till dark to go home. "

Collie, listening, felt his heart pump faster. He turned away for aninstant that his fellows might not see the disappointment in his face. He had hoped to ride Boyar to victory. 

"Miss Louise could get more out of Boyar in a race than even Miguelhere, " said Billy Dime. 

"I dunno, " said Williams. "She give me orders that Miguel was to rideBoyar if they was any racin'. "

So Louise herself had chosen Miguel to ride the pony. Collie grewunreasonably jealous. Once more and again he pledged the MoonstoneRancho in a brimming cup. Then he wandered over to the Mexican ponies, inspecting them casually. 

A Mexican youth, handsome, dark, smiling, offered to bet with him on theresult of the races. Collie declined, but gained his point. He learnedthe Mexican's choice for first place, a lean, wiry buckskin with a goathead and a wicked eye, but with wonderful flanks and withers. Colliemeditated. As a result he placed something like fifty dollars in betswith various ranchers, naming the Mexican horse for first place. Wordwent round that the Moonstone Kid was betting against his own horse. 

Later Brand Williams accosted him. "What you fell up against?" he askedsternly. "What made you jar yourself loose like that?"

"It's horses with me to-day--not home-sweet-home, Brand. Bet you a pairof specs--and you need 'em--to a bag of peanuts that the Chola cayuseruns first. "

"Your brains is afloat, son. You better cut out the booze. "

Unexpectedly Collie encountered Louise as he went to look after his ownhorses. 

"I hear that you intend to ride the outlaw Yuma. Is it so?"

Collie nodded. 

"I had rather you didn't, " said Louise. 

"Why?" asked Collie, tactlessly. 

Louise did not answer, and Collie strode off feeling angry with himselfand more than ever determined to risk breaking his neck to win theoutlaw. 

Boyar, the Moonstone pony, ran second in the finals. The buckskin of theMexicans won first place. Collie collected his winnings indifferently. He grew ashamed of himself, realizing that a foolish and unwarrantablejealousy had led him into a species of disloyalty. He was a Moonstonerider. He had bet against the Moonstone pony, and _her_ pony. He wasabout to ask one of the other boys to see to the horses when a tumult inthe corrals drew his attention. He strolled over to the crowd, finding aplace for himself on the corral bars. 

Mat Gleason, superintendent of the Oro Ranch, loafed, his back against apost. Two men with ropes were following the roan pony round the corral. Presently a riata flipped out and fell. Inch by inch the outlaw wasworked to the snubbing-post. One of the Oro riders seized the pony's earin his teeth and, flinging his legs round her neck, hung, weighing herhead down. There was the flash of teeth, a grunting tug at the cinchas, a cloud of dust, and Jasper Lane, foreman of the Oro outfit, was in thesaddle. The cloud of dust, following the roan pony, grew denser. Abovethe dun cloud a sombrero swung to and fro fanning the outlaw's ears. Jasper Lane had essayed to ride the Yuma colt once before. His brokenshoulder had set nicely, in fact, better than Bull O'Toole's leg whichhad been broken when the outlaw fell on him. Billy Squires, a youngMontana puncher working for the Oro people, still carried his arm in asling. All in all, the assembled company, as Brand Williams mildly putit, "were beginning to take notice of that copper-colored she-son of acyclone. "

Jasper Lane plied spurs and quirt. The visiting cowmen shrilled theirdelight. The pony was broncho from the end of her long, switching tailto the tip of her pink muzzle. 

Following a quick tattoo of hoofs on the baked earth came a flash likethe trout's leap for the fly--a curving plunge--the sound as of abreaking willow branch, and then palpitating silence. 

The dun cloud of dust settled, disclosing the foam-flecked, sweat-blackened colt, oddly beautiful in her poised immobility. Near herlay Jasper Lane, face downward. The pony sniffed at his crumpledsombrero. 

"That horse is plumb gentle, " said Collie. "Look at her!"

"Crazy with the heat, " commented Billy Dime, jerking his thumb towardCollie. 

Tall, slim, slow of movement, Collie slipped from the corral bars andsecured the dangling reins. Across the utter silence came the whistle ofa viewless hawk. The cowmen awakened from their momentary apathy. Two ofthem carried Jasper Lane toward the ranch-house. Some one laughed. 

Gleason, the superintendent, gazed at the outlaw pony and fingered hisbelt. "That's the fourth!" he said slowly and distinctly. "She ain'tworth it. "

"The fourth Oro rider, " said a voice. "You ain't countin' any Moonstoneriders. "

"Ain't seen any to count, " retorted Gleason, and there was a generallaugh. 

Strangely enough, the outlaw pony followed Collie quietly as he led hertoward Gleason, "The boys say there's a bet up that nobody can stick onher two minutes. She's the bet. Is that right?" said Collie. 

"What you goin' to do?" queried Gleason, and some of the Oro boyslaughed. 

"I don't know yet, " said Collie. "Maybe I'll take her back to theMoonstone with me. "

Miguel of the Moonstone removed his sombrero and gravely passed it. "Flowers for the Collie kid, " he said solemnly. 

Collie, grave, alert, a little white beneath his tan, called forWilliams to hold the pony. Then the younger man, talking to hermeanwhile, slipped off the bridle and adjusted a hackamore in its place. He tightened the cinchas. The men had ceased joking. Evidently the kidmeant business. Next he removed his spurs and flung them, with hisquirt, in a corner. 

"Just defending yourself, eh, Yuma girl?" he said. "They cut all thesense out of you with a horse-killin' bit and rip you with the spurs, and expect you to behave. "

"He'll be teachin' her to say her prayers next, " observed Bud Light. "He's gettin' a spell on her now. "

"He'll need all _his_ for himself, " said Pars Long. 

The pony, still nervously resenting the memory of the mouth-crushingspade-bit, and the tearing rowels, flinched and sidled away as Collietried to mount. Her glossy ears were flattened and the rims of her eyesshowed white. 

"Jump!" whispered Williams. "And don't rough her. Mebby you'll win out. "

And even as Collie's hand touched the saddle-horn, Williams sprang backand climbed the corral bars. 

With a leap the Moonstone rider was in the saddle. The pony shook herhead as he reined her round toward the corral gate. The men stared. Gleason swore. Billy Dime began to croon a range ditty about "Pickinglittle Posies on the Golden Shore. " The roan's sleek, sweating sidesquivered. 

"Here's where she goes to it, " said Williams. 

"Whoop! Let 'er buck!" shouted the crowd. 

Rebellion swelled in the pony's rippling muscles. She waited, fore feetbraced, for the first sting of the quirt, the first rip of the spurs, toturn herself into a hellish thing of plunging destruction. 

Collie, leaning forward, patted her neck. "Come on, sis. Come on, Yumagirl. You're just a little hummingbird. You ain't a real horse. "

With a leap the pony reared. Still there came no sting of spur or quirt. She dropped to her feet. Collie had cleverly consumed a minute of theallotted time. 

"One minute!" called Williams, holding the watch. 

"Why, that ain't ridin', " grumbled an Oro man. 

"See you later, " said Williams, and several of his companions looked athim strangely. The foreman's eyes were fixed on the watch. 

Collie had also heard, and he dug his unspurred heels into the pony'ssides. She leaped straight for the corral gate and freedom. With apatter of hoofs, stiff-legged, she jolted toward the plain. The mendropped from the bars and ran toward the gate, all, except Williams, whoturned, blinking in the sun, his watch in his hand. 

A few short jumps, a fish-like swirl sideways, and still Collie held hisseat. He eased the hackamore a little. He was breathing hard. The horsetook up the slack with a vicious plunge, head downward. The boy's facegrew white. He felt something warm trickling down his mouth and chin. Hethrew back his head and gripped with his knees. 

"They're off!" halloed a puncher. 

"Only one of 'em--so far, " said Williams. "One minute and thirtyseconds. "

Then, like a bolt of copper light, the pony shot forward at a run. 

On the ranch-house veranda sat Walter Stone conversing with his host, where several girls, bright-faced and gowned in cool white, were talkingand laughing. 

The pony headed straight for the veranda. The laughing group jumped totheir feet. Collie, using both hands, swung the hackamore across theoutlaw's neck and tugged. 

She stopped with a jolt that all but unseated him. Walter Stone rose. "It's one of my boys, " he said. And he noticed that a little stream ofred was trickling from Collie's mouth and nostrils. 

His head was snapped back and then forward at every plunge. Still hegripped the saddle with rigid knees. The outlaw bucked again, and flungherself viciously sideways, turning completely round. Collie pitcheddrunkenly as the horse came down again and again. His eyes were blurredand his brain grew numb. Faintly he heard Brand Williams cry, "Twominutes! Moonstone wins!" Then came a cheer. His gripping knees relaxed. He reeled and all around him the air grew streaked with slivers ofpiercing fire. He pitched headforemost at the feet of the group on theveranda. 

In a flash Louise Lacharme was beside him, kneeling and supporting hishead. "Water!" she cried, wiping his face with her handkerchief. 

Boot-heels gritted on the parched earth and spurs jingled as the mencame running. 

The pony, with hackamore dangling, raced across the plain toward thehills. 

"This'll do jest as well, " said Williams, pouring a mouthful of whiskeybetween Collie's lips. Then the taciturn foreman lifted the youth to hisfeet. Collie dragged along, stepping shakily. "Dam' little fool!" saidWilliams affectionately. "You ain't satisfied to get killed where youbelong, but you got to go and splatter yourself all over the front yardin front of the ladies. You with your bloody nose and your face shotplumb full of gravel. If you knowed how you looked when she piled you--"

"I know how she looked, " said Collie. "That's good enough for me. Did Imake it?"

"The bronc' is yours, " said Williams. "Bud and Miguel just rode outafter her. "

Then Williams did an unaccountable thing. He hunted among the crowd tillhe found the man who had said, "Why, that ain't ridin'. " He asked theman quietly if he had made such a remark. The other replied that he had. Then Williams promptly knocked him down, with all the wiry strength ofhis six feet of bone and muscle. "Take that home and look at it, " heremarked, walking away. 

Through the dusk of the evening the Moonstone boys jingled homeward, thehorses climbing the trail briskly. Two of them worked the outlaw up thehill, each with a rope on her and each exceedingly busy. Collie was toostiff and sore to help them. 

Miguel, hilarious in that he had ridden Boyar to second place, and soupheld the Moonstone honor, sang many strange and wonderful songs andbaited Collie between-whiles. Proud of their companion's conquest of theoutlaw colt, the Moonstone boys made light of it proportionately. 

"Did you see him reclinin' on that Yuma grasshopper, " said Bud Light, "and pertendin' he was ridin' a hoss?"

"And then, " added Billy Dime, "he gets so het up and proud that he ridesright over to the ladies, and 'flop' he goes like swattin' a frog with ashingle. He rides about five rods on the cayuse and then five more onhis map. Collie's sure tough. How's your mug, kid?"

"It never felt so bad as yours looks naturally, " responded Collie, puffing at a cigarette with swollen lips. "But I ain't jealous. "

"Now, ain't you?" queried Williams, who had ridden silently beside him. "Well, now, I was plumb mistook! I kind of thought you was. "

CHAPTER XXIII

SILENT SAUNDERS SPEAKS

Meanwhile Collie kept a vigilant eye on Silent Saunders. The other, somewhat sullenly but efficiently, attended to his work. Collie'svigilance was rewarded unexpectedly and rather disagreeably. 

One day, as he stood stroking Black Boyar's neck, he happened to glanceacross the yard. Saunders was saddling one of the horses in the corral. Louise, astride Boyar, spoke to Collie of some detail of the ranch work, purposely prolonging the conversation. Something of the Collie of theOro barbecue had vanished. In its stead was an inexplicable but positivequality of masterfulness, apparent in poise and manner. 

Louise, because she knew him so well, was puzzled and curious. She couldnot account for the change. She was frankly interested in him in spiteof, or perhaps because of, his early misfortunes. Instinctively she feltthat he had gained a moral confidence in himself. His physicalexcellence and ability had always been manifest. This morning, hisgrave, dark eyes, upturned to her face as he caressed Boyar, weredisconcertingly straightforward. He seemed to be drinking his fill ofher beauty. His quick smile, still boyish, and altogether irresistible, flashed as she spoke humorously of his conquest of the outlaw colt Yuma. 

"I learned more--ridin' that cayuse for two minutes--than I ever expectto learn again in that time. "

Remembering that she had been first to reach him when he was thrown, thefresh bloom of her cheeks deepened. Her eyelids drooped for an instant. "One can learn a great deal quickly, sometimes, " she said. Then added, for he had smiled again, --"About horses. "

"And folks. " He spoke quietly and lifted her gauntleted hand, touchingit lightly with his lips. So swift, so unexpected had been his homagethat she did not realize it until it was irrevocably paid. 

"Why, Collie!"

"Because you wasn't ashamed to help a guy in front of the others. "

"Please don't say 'guy. ' And why should I be ashamed to help any of ourboys?" she said, laughing. She had quite recovered herself. 

"'Course you wouldn't be. But this is a kind of 'good-bye, ' too. I wasgoing to ask you to mail this letter to Overland Red. I told him in itthat I was coming. "

"We are sorry that you are leaving, " said Louise. "Uncle Walter said youhad spoken to him. "

"It isn't the money. I could wait. But I don't feel like taking all thatmoney and not doing anything for it. I guess Red needs me, too. Brandsays I'm a fool to quit here now. Mebby I am. I like it here; the workand everything. "

Saunders, watching them, saw Collie give Louise a letter. He saw hertuck it in her waist and rein Boyar round toward the gate. 

As Collie came toward the corrals he noticed that Saunders had saddledthe pinto Rally. He was a little surprised. Rally was Walter Stone'sfavorite saddle-horse and used by none but him. He knew his employer wasabsent. Perhaps Saunders had instructions to bring Rally to the station. 

Collie paid no further attention to Saunders until the latter came fromhis quarters with a coat and a blanket-roll which he tied to the saddle. Then Collie became interested. He left the road and climbed the hillback of the corrals. He watched Saunders astride the pinto as he openedthe gate and spurred through without closing it. That was a littleunusual. 

"I feel almost like taking a cayuse and following him, " muttered Collie. "But, no. What for, anyway?"

On a rise far below was Black Boyar, loping along easily. Collie saw himstop and turn into the Old Meadow Trail. He watched for Saunders toappear on the road below the ranch. Presently out from the shoulder of ahill leaped Rally. Saunders was plying quirt and spur. The pinto wasdoing his best. 

"Something's wrong. I'll just take a chance. " And Collie ran to thecorral and roped the Yuma colt. He saddled her, led her a few steps thatshe might become used to the feel of the cinchas, and then mounted. Heturned the pony up the hill and sat watching the pinto on the roadbelow. He saw Saunders draw rein and dismount, apparently searching theroad for something. Then he saw him mount quickly and disappear on theOld Meadow Trail. 

Collie whirled the pony round and down the hill. Through the gateway hethundered. The steel-sinewed flanks stiffened and relaxed rhythmicallyas the hillside flew past. The Yuma colt, half-wild, ran with greatleaps that ate into space. They swept through the first ford. A thinsheet of water spread on either side of them. The outlaw fought the curball the way up the hill beyond. Pebbles clattered from her hoofs andspun skyward as she raced along the level of the hilltop. 

Down the next grade the pony swung, taking the turns with short leaps. On the crest Collie checked her. The road beyond, clear to the valley, was empty. 

He examined the tracks entering the Old Meadow Trail. He had not beenmistaken. Saunders had ridden in. Mounting, Collie spurred through thegreasewood, trusting to the pony's natural activity and sure-footedness. 

 * * * * *

Louise, sitting on the dream-rock in the old meadow, gazed out acrossthe valley. Black Boyar stood near with trailing bridle-reins. 

Despite herself the girl kept recalling Collie's face as he had talkedwith her at the ranch. Admiration she had known before and manytimes--adoration never, until that morning. 

For a long time she dreamed. The shadows of the greasewood lengthened. The air grew cooler. Louise ended her soliloquy by saying aloud: "He's anice boy, though. I do hope he will keep as he is. "

Boyar, lifting his head, nickered and was answered by Rally, enteringthe meadow. Silent Saunders rode up hurriedly. 

"Why, Saunders, --what is it? That's Rally! Were you going to meet UncleWalter?"

"No, Miss. I'm in a hurry. Just hand over that letter that young Colliegive to you at the ranch. I want it. I mean business. "

"You want the letter? What do you mean? What right have you--"

"No right. Only I want it. I don't want to make trouble. "

"You! A Western man, and speak that way to a woman! Saunders, I'mashamed to think you ever worked for us. "

"Oh, I know you got nerve. But I'm in a hurry. Hand it over. Then youcan call me anything you like. "

"I shall not hand it over. "

"All right. I got to have it. "

The girl, her gray eyes blazing with indignation, backed away as hestrode toward her. "You'd dare, would you?" And as Saunders laughed shecut him across the face with her quirt. 

His face, streaked with the red welt of the rawhide, grew white as hecontrolled his anger. He leaped at her and had his hands on her when shestruck him again with all her strength. He staggered back, his hand tohis eyes. 

A wild rush of hoofs, a shock, a crash, and he was beneath the plungingfeet of the Yuma colt. The pony flashed past, her head jerking up. Louise saw Collie leap to the ground and come running back. 

Saunders, rolling to his side, reached for his holster, when he saw thatin Collie's hand which precluded further argument. 

"Don't get up!" said Collie quietly. "I never killed a man--but I'mgoing to, quick, if you lift a finger. "

Saunders kept still. Collie stepped round behind him. "Now, get up, slow, " he commanded. 

When Saunders was on his feet, Collie reached forward and secured hisgun. 

"I'll send your check to the store, " said Louise, addressing Saunders. "I shall tell Mr. Stone that I discharged you. I don't believe I hadbetter tell the men about this. "

"Beat it, Saunders, " said Collie, laughing. "You are leaving here afoot, which suits me fine. Red would be plumb happy to know it. "

"Red's goin' to walk into my lead some of these days. "

"That's some day. This is to-day, " said Collie. 

Saunders, turning, gazed covetously at the pinto Rally. Collie saw, andsmiled. "I missed twice. The third trick is goin' to be mine. Don't youforget that, Mister Kid, " said Saunders. 

"Oh, you here yet?" said Collie; and he was not a little gratified tonotice that Saunders limped as he struck off down the trail. 

CHAPTER XXIV

"LIKE SUNSHINE"

Louise drew off her gauntlets and tossed them on the rock. Collie sawthe print of Saunders's fingers on her wrist and forearm. "I ought to'a' made him kneel down and ask you to let him live!" he said. 

"I was afraid--at first. Then I was just angry. It was sickening to seethe marks grow red and swell on his face. I hit him as hard as I could, but I'm not sorry. "

"Sorry?" growled Collie. "He takes your brand with him. He didn't getthe letter. I got to thank you a whole lot for that. "

"But how did he know I had it? What did he want with the letter?"

"He saw me give it to you. He's one of the bunch, the Mojave bunchthat's been trailing Red all over the country. When Red disappeared upin those desert hills, I reckon Saunders must have got hold of a paperand read about the get-away here at the Moonstone. He just naturallycame over here and got a job to see if he couldn't trace Red. "

"You are thinking of joining Mr. Summers at the claim?"

"Yes. The Eastern folks are gone now. I hate to go. But I got to getbusy and make some money. A fellow hasn't much of a show without moneythese days. "

Louise was silent. She sat gazing across the valley. 

Collie approached her hesitatingly. "I just got to say it--after allthat's happened. Seems that I could, now. "

Louise paled and flushed. "Oh, Collie!" she cried entreatingly. "We havebeen such good friends. Please don't spoil it all!"

"I know I am a fool, " he said, "or I was going to be. But please to takeBoyar and go. I'll bring Rally. I was wrong to think you would listen alittle. "

But Louise remained sitting upon the rock as though she had not heardhim. Slowly he stepped toward her, his spurs jingling musically. Hecaught up one of her gloves and turned it over and over in his fingerswith a kind of clumsy reverence. "It's mighty little--and there's theshape of your hand in it, just like it bends when you hold the reins. Itseems like a thing almost too good for me to touch, because it means_you_. I know you won't laugh at me, either. "

Louise turned toward him. "No. I understand, " she said. 

"Here was where Red and I first saw you to know who you was. I used tohate folks that wore good clothes. I thought they was all the same, youand all that kind. But, no, it ain't so. You looked back once, when youwere riding away from the jail that time. I was going to look for Redand not go to work at the Moonstone. I saw you look back. That settledit. I was proud to think you cared even anything for a tramp. I wasmighty lonesome then. Since, I got to thinking I'd be somebody some day. But I can see where I stand. I'm a puncher, working for the Moonstone. You kind of liked me because I had hard luck when I was a kid. But thatmade me _love_ you. It ain't wrong, I guess, to love something you can'tever reach up to. It ain't wrong to keep on loving, only it's awfullonesome not to ever tell you about it. "

"I'm sorry, Collie, " said Louise gently. 

"Please don't you be sorry. Why, I'm glad! Maybe you don't think it isthe best thing in the world to love a girl. I ain't asking anything butto just go on loving you. Seems like a man wants the girl he loves toknow it, even if that is just all. You said I love horses. I do. Butloving you started me loving horses. Red said once that I was justliving like what I thought you wanted me to be. Red's wise when hetakes his time to it. But now I'm living the way I think I want to. Iwon't ask you to say you care. I guess you don't--that way. But if Iever get rich--then--"

"Collie, you must not think I am different from any other girl. I'm justas selfish and stubborn as I can be. I almost feel ashamed to have youthink of me as you do. Let's be sensible about it. You know I like you. I'm glad you care--for--what you think I am. "

"That's it. You are always so kind to a fellow that it makes me feelmean to speak like I have. You listened--and I am pretty glad of that. "

He turned and caught Boyar's bridle. Mounting he caught up Yuma andRally. Slowly Collie and the girl rode the trail to the level of thesummit. Slowly they dropped down the descent into Moonstone Cañon. Theletter, Overland Red, Silent Saunders, were forgotten. Side by sideplodded the pony Yuma and Black Boyar. Rally followed. The trees on thewestern edge of the cañon threw long, shadowy bars of dusk across theroad. Quail called from the hillside. Other quail answered plaintivelyfrom a distance. Alternate warmth and coolness swam in the air andtouched the riders' faces. 

At a bend in the road the ponies crowded together. Collie's handaccidentally brushed against the girl's and she drew away. He glancedup quickly. She was gazing straight ahead at the distant peaks. He feltstrangely pleased that she had drawn away from him when his hand touchedhers. Some instinct told him that their old friendship had given placeto something else--something as yet too vague to describe. She was notangry with him, he knew. Her face was troubled. He gazed at her as theyrode and his heart yearned for her tenderly. Life had suddenly assumed atensity that silenced them. The little lizards of the stones scurriedaway from either side of the road. One after another, with sprightlysteps, a covey of mountain quail crossed the road before them, leavinglittle starlike tracks in the dust. Though homeward bound the poniesplodded with lowered heads. Moonstone Cañon, always wonderful in itswild, rugged beauty, seemed as a place of dreams, only real as it echoedthe tread of the ponies. The cañon stream chattered, murmured, quarreledround a rock-strewn bend, laughed at itself, and passed, singing acool-voiced melody. 

They rode through a vale of enchantment, only known to Youth and Love. Her gray eyes were misty and troubled. His eyes were heavy withunuttered longing. His heart pounded until it almost choked him. He bithis lips that he might keep silent. 

The glint of the slanting sunlight on her hair, the turn of her wrist asshe held the reins, her apparent unconsciousness of all outward thingsenthralled him. A spell hung round him like a mist, blinding andbaffling all clearer thought. And because Louise knew his heart, knewthat his homage was not of books, but of his very self, she lingered inthe dream whose thread she might have snapped with a word, a gesture. 

Generously the girl blamed herself that she had been the one to causehim sorrow. She could not give herself to him, be his wife as she knewhe wished her to be. Yet she liked him more than she cared to admit. Hehad fought for her once and taken his punishment with a grin. She feltjoy in his homage, and yet she felt humility. In what way, she askedherself, was she better, cleaner of heart, kinder or cleverer thanCollie? Why should people make distinctions as to birth, or breeding, orwealth, when character and physical excellence meant so much more?

"Collie!" she whispered, and the touch of her fingers on his arm was asthe touch of fire, --"Collie!"

She drew one of her little gray gauntlets from her belt. "Here, " shesaid, and the word was a caress. 

But he put the proffered token away from him with a trembling hand. "Don't!" he cried. "I tried not to want you! I did try! Thismorning--before I told you--I could have knelt and prayed to your glove. But now, Louise, Louise Lacharme, I can't. That glove would burn me anddrive me wild to come back to you. "

"To come back to you . . . ?" The words sung themselves through herconsciousness. "Come back to you. . . . " He was going away. "You care somuch?" she asked. There was a new light in her eyes. Her face was almostcolorless. So she had looked when Saunders threatened her. She swayed inthe saddle. Collie's arm was about her. She raised one arm and flung itround his neck, drawing his face down to her trembling lips. Then shedrew away, her face burning. 

Across the end of the cañon a vagrant sunbeam ran like a bridge of faërygold. It pelted the gray wall with a million particles of mellow fire. It flickered, flashed anew, and faded. The ponies drew apart. The coltYuma grew restless. 

"Good-bye, " murmured Louise. 

"Like the sunshine, " he said, pointing to the cliff. 

"It is gone, " she whispered, shivering a little as the shadows drewdown. 

"It will shine again, " he said, smiling. 

Without a word she touched Black Boyar with the spurs. A stone clattereddown as he leaped forward, and she was gone. 

Collie curbed the colt Yuma, who would have followed. "No, littlehummingbird, " he said whimsically. "We aren't so used to heaven that wecan ride out of it quite so fast. "

 * * * * *

Next morning, with blanket and slicker rolled behind his saddle, he rodedown the Moonstone Cañon Trail. At the foot of the range he turnedeastward, a new world before him. The far hills, hiding the desertbeyond, bulked large and mysterious. 

Louise had not been present when he bade good-bye to his Moonstonefriends. 

CHAPTER XXV

IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS

The afternoon of the third day out from the Moonstone Ranch, Colliepicketed the roan pony Yuma near a water-hole in the desert. He spreadhis saddle-blankets, rolled a cigarette, and smoked. Presently he roseand took some food from a saddle-pocket. 

The pony, unused to the desert, fretted and sniffed at the sagebrushwith evident disgust. Collie had given her water, but there was nograzing. 

After he had eaten he studied the rough map that Overland had given him. There, to the south, was the desert town. He had passed that, asdirected, skirting it widely. There to the east were the hills. Somewhere behind them was the hidden cañon and Overland Red. 

Stiff and tired from his long ride, he stretched himself for a shortrest. He dozed. Something touched his foot. It was the riata with whichhe had picketed the pony. He meant to travel again that night. He wouldsleep a little while. The horse, circling the picket, would be sure toawaken him again. 

He slept heavily. The Yuma colt stood with rounded nostrils sniffing thenight air. The pony faced in the direction of the distant town. She knewthat another horse and rider were coming toward her through thedarkness. They were far off, but coming. 

For a long time she stood stamping impatiently at intervals. Finally shegrew restive. The oncoming horse had stopped. That other animal, theman, had dismounted and was coming toward her on foot. She could not seethrough the starlit blanket of night, but she knew. 

The man-thing drew a little nearer. The pony swerved as if about to run, but hesitated, ears flattened, curious, half-belligerent. 

 * * * * *

That afternoon Silent Saunders, riding along the border of the deserttown, had seen a strange horse and rider far out--away from the road andevidently heading for the water-hole. Saunders rode into town, borroweda pair of field-glasses, and rode out again. He at once recognized theroan pony as the Oro outlaw, but the rider? He was not so sure. He wouldinvestigate. 

The fact that he saw no glimmer of fire as he now approached thewater-hole made him doubly cautious. Nearer, he crouched behind a bush. He threw a pebble at the pony. She circled the picket, awakening Collie, who spoke to her sleepily. Saunders crept back toward his horse. Heknew _that_ voice. He would track the young rider to the range andbeyond--to the gold. He rode back to town through the night, entered thesaloon, and beckoned to a belated lounger. 

Shivering in the morning starlight, Collie arose and saddled the pony. He rode in the general direction of the range. The blurred shadow of thefoothills seemed stationary. His horse was not moving forward--simplywalking a gigantic treadmill of black space that revolved beneath him. The hills drew no nearer than did the constellations above them. 

Suddenly the shadows of the hills pushed back. Almost instantly he facedthe quick rise of the range. Out of the silence came the slithering stepof some one walking in the sand. The darkness seemed to expand. 

Overland Red stood before him, silent, alert, anxious. "You, Chico?" heasked. 

"Sure. Hello, Red. "

"Anybody see you come across yesterday?"

"Not that I know of. I kept away from the town. "

"Your hoss shod?"

"Yes. All around. Why?"

"Nothin'. I'm sufferin' glad to see you again. When we get on top of thehills, you take the left trail and keep on down. You can't miss thecañon. I'll leave you here. I got to stay here a spell to see thatnothin' else comes up but the sun this mornin'. "

"All right, Red. Your pardner down there?"

"Yep. Whistle when you get up to the meadow in the cañon. Billy'll belookin' for you. "

"Any trouble lately?"

"Nope. But Billy's got a hunch, though. He says he feels it in the air. "

At the crest Collie rode on down the winding trail, or rather way, forno regular trail existed. At the foot of the range he turned to theright and entered the narrow cañon, following the stream until he cameto the meadow, where he picketed the pony. 

He continued on up the cañon on foot. When he arrived at the camp, Overland was there waiting. Winthrop and he greeted Collie cordially. "Short cut, " explained Overland, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "No hoss trail, though. Too steep. "

Faint dawn lights were shifting along the cañon walls as they hadbreakfast. As the morning sunlight spread to their camp Collie's naturalcuriosity in regard to Overland's pardner was satisfied. He saw astraight, slender figure, in flannel shirt and khaki. The gray eyes werepeculiarly keen and humorous. Winthrop was not a little like his sisterAnne in poise and coloring. The hands were nervously slender andaristocratic, albeit roughened and scarred by toil. There was asuggestion of dash and go about Winthrop that appealed to Collie. Evenin repose the Easterner seemed to be alert. Undoubtedly he would make agood companion in any circumstance. 

"There's spare blankets in the tent. Roll in for a snooze, Collie. Billyand me'll pack your saddle and stuff up here later. "

"I guess I will. You might sponge Yuma's back a little, Red. She'sbrought me close to two hundred miles in the last three days. "

"Sure, Bo! I'll brush her teeth and manicure her toe-nails if you saythe word. I guess that hoss has kind of made a hit with you. "

Collie yawned. "Mebby. But it isn't in it with the hit she'll make withyou if you try to take up her feet. She's half-sister to a shot ofdynamite. I'm only telling you so she won't kick your fool head off. "

"You talk like most a full-size man, " said Overland. 

Down at the meadow, Overland looked at the colt and shook his head. "Heis correct, " he said succinctly. "That hoss don't welcome handlin' wortha bean. "

Winthrop's silence rather stirred Overland's sensitive pride in hishorsemanship. "'Course I broke and rode hundreds like her, down in Mex. But then I was paid for doin' it. It was my business then. Now, minin'and educatin' Collie is my business, and a busted neck wouldn't helpany. "

Winthrop realized for the first time that Overland's supreme interest inlife was Collie's welfare. Heretofore the paternal note had not beenevident. Winthrop had imagined them chums, friends, tramps together. They were more than that. Overland considered Collie an adopted son. 

The Easterner glanced at Overland's broad shoulders stooped beneath theweight of the heavy stock saddle. Something in the man's humoroussimplicity, his entire willingness to serve those whom he liked and hisstiff indifference to all others, appealed to Winthrop. So this flotsamof the range, this erstwhile tramp, this paradox of coarseness andsentiment, had an object in life? A laudable object: that of servingwith his sincerest effort the boy friend he had picked up on the desert, a castaway. 

As they toiled up the stream toward the camp, Winthrop recalled theirformer chats by the night-fire. Now he began to see the drift ofOverland's then frequent references to Collie. And there was agirl, --mentioned by Overland almost reverently, --the Rose Girl, LouiseLacharme, of whom Anne Marshall had written much in eulogy to him. AndWinthrop himself?

His swift introspection left him aware that of them all he alone seemedto lack a definite aim. Making money--mining--was still to him a game, interesting and healthful, but play. To Overland it was life. Winthropsaw himself as he was. His improved health scoffed at the idea ofbecoming sentimental about it. He laughed, and Overland, turning, regarded him with bushy, interrogative brows. 

"Nothing, " said Winthrop. 

"Ain't you feelin' good lately, Billy?"

"I'm all right. "

"Glad of that. It's good to forget you got such a thing as health if youwant to keep it. If you get to lookin' for it, like as not you'll findit's gone. "

"I'm looking for something entirely different. Something youhave--something that I never possessed. "

"I don't know anything I got that you haven't 'less it's that newStetson I got in Los. You can have her, Billy, and welcome. Your lid_is_ gettin' on the bum. "

"Not that, " laughed Winthrop. "Something you keep under it. "

"'T ain't me hair. I'm plumb sure of that. "

"No. "

"Mebby you're jealous of some of me highbrow ideas?"

"Add an 'l' and you have it. "

"I-d-e-a-l-s. Oh, ideals, eh? Never owned none except that littleelectric do-diddle-um of the Guzzuh what makes the spark to keep themachinery goin'. That's called the 'Ideal. '"

"The spark to keep the machinery going--that's it, " said Winthrop. 

At the camp he prepared to make his trip to the Moonstone Ranch. He readhis sister's letter over and over again. Finally he sauntered up thecañon to where Overland was at work. "I'll lend a hand, " he said, inanswer to Overland's questioning face. "I don't believe I'll go beforeto-morrow night. It is hardly right to leave the minute my new pardnerarrives. I want to talk with him. "

Overland nodded. "Guess you're right. It won't hurt to keep in theshadow of the hills for a day or two. Can't tell who might 'a' spottedCollie ridin' out this way. "

 * * * * *

That afternoon, toward evening, Collie arose, refreshed, and eager toinspect the claim. He could hear the faint click of pick and shovel upthe cañon. He stretched himself, drank from the stream, and saunteredtoward the meadow. He would see to his pony first. 

He found the horse had been picketed afresh by Overland when he had comefor the saddle. He was returning toward camp when he heard a slightnoise behind him--the noise a man's boot makes stepping on a pebble thatturns beneath his weight. 

Collie wheeled quickly, saw nothing unusual, and turned again toward thecamp. Then he hesitated. He would look down the cañon. He realized thathe was unarmed. Then he grew ashamed of his hesitancy. He picked his waydown the stream. A buzzard circled far above the cliffs. The air hummedwith invisible bees in the rank wild clover. He peered past the nextbend. A short distance below stood a riderless horse. The bridle wastrailing. For an instant Collie did not realize the significance of theanimal waiting patiently for its rider. Then, like the flash of aspeeding film, he saw it all--his pony's tracks up the cañon--the riderwho had undoubtedly seen him crossing to the water-hole, and who hadwaited until daylight to follow the tracks; who had dismounted, and wasprobably in ambush watching him. He summoned all his reserve courage. Turning away, he remarked, distinctly, naturally, casually, "Thought Iheard something. Must have been the water. "

He walked slowly back to the notch in the cañon walls. Stepping throughit, he continued on up the stream. A few paces beyond the notch, and aface appeared in the cleft rock, watching him. The watcher seemed indoubt. Collie's action had been natural enough. Had he seen the horse?The hidden face grew crafty. The eyes grew cold. The watcher tapped theside of the cliff with his revolver butt. The noise was slight, but inthat place of sensitive echoes, loud enough to be heard a long way upthe cañon. Then it was that Collie made a courageous but terriblemistake. He heard the sound, and seemed to realize that it was madeintentionally--to attract his attention. Yet he was not sure. He kepton, ignoring the sound. Had he not suspected some one was in the cañon, to have glanced back would have been the most natural thing in theworld. The watcher realized this. He knew that the other had heardhim--suspected his presence, and was making a daring bluff. 

"Got to stop that, " muttered the watcher, and he raised his hand. 

The imprisoned report rolled and reëchoed like mountain thunder. Colliethrew up his arms and lurched forward. 

Below in the cañon clattered the hoofs of the speeding horse. The rider, still holding his six-gun, muzzle up, glanced back. "I didn't carepartic'lar about gettin' _him_, but gettin' the kid hits the red-headbetween the eyes. I guess I'm about even now. " And Silent Saundersholstered his gun, swung out of the cañon, and spurred down themountain, not toward the desert town, but toward Gophertown, some thirtymiles to the north. He had found the claim. The desert town folk he hadused to good advantage. They had paid his expenses while he trailedOverland and Collie. They had even guaranteed him protection from thelaw--such as it was on the Mojave. He had every reason to be grateful tothem, but he was just a step or two above them in criminal artistry. Hehad been a "killer. " Like the lone wolf that calls the pack to the hunt, he turned instinctively to Gophertown, a settlement in the hills notunknown to a few of the authorities, but unmolested by them. Theatmosphere of Gophertown was not conducive to long life. 

CHAPTER XXVI

SPECIAL

Overland, leaning on his shovel, drew his sleeve across his forehead. "Reckon I'll go down and wake Collie. He'll sleep his head off and feelworse 'n thunder. "

"I'll go, " said Winthrop, throwing aside a pan of dirt with a finedisregard of its eventual value. "I want some tobacco, anyway. "

"Fetch a couple of sticks of dynamite along, Billy. I'll put in one moreshot for to-night. "

A distant, reverberating report caused the two men to jerk intoattitudes of tense surprise. 

"What the hell!" exclaimed Overland, running toward the tent. "Thatwasn't the kid. Collie's only packin' a automatic, and here it is. "

He stopped in the tent-door, grabbed up the gun and belt, and ran downthe cañon, Winthrop following breathlessly. Near the notch he paused, motioning Winthrop to one side. "Mebby it was to draw us on. You keepthere, Billy. I'll poke ahead. "

But Overland did not go far. He almost stumbled over the prone figure ofCollie. With a cry he tore his handkerchief from his throat and pluggedthe wound. "Clean through, " he said, getting to his feet. "Get thewhiskey. "

"Shan't I help you carry him?" queried Winthrop. 

Overland shook his head. "Get the whiskey and get a fire goin'. I'llbring him. "

"Will he--live?" asked Winthrop, hesitating. 

"I reckon not, Billy. He was plugged from behind--close--and cleanthrough. Here's the slug. "

Then Overland picked up the limp form. So this was the end of all hisplanning and his toil? He cursed himself for having urged Collie to cometo the desert. He strode carefully, bent with the weight of thatshattered body. He felt that he had lost more than the visible Collie;that he had lost the inspiration, the ideal, the grip on hope that hadheld him toward the goal of good endeavor. His old-time recklessnessswept down upon him like the tides, submerging his better self. Yet heheld steadily to one idea. He would do all that he could to saveCollie's life. Failing in that . . . There would be a red reckoning. Afterthat he would not care what came. 

Already he had planned to send Winthrop, in his big car, for a doctor. The car was at the desert town, where a liveryman accepted a royalmonthly toll in advance to care for it. 

At the tent Overland laid Collie on the blankets, bathed and bandagedthe wound, and watched his low pulse quicken to the stimulant that hegave him in small doses. 

"It's the shock as much as the wound, " said Overland. "He got it close, and from behind--_from behind_ do you hear?"

Winthrop, startled by the other's intensity, stammered: "What shall Ido? What shall I do?"

Overland bit his nails and scowled. "You will ride to town. Collie'shoss is here. Take the Guzzuh and burn the road for Los and get adoctor. Not a pill doctor, but a knife man. Bring the car clean backhere to the range. To hell with the chances. "

Winthrop slipped into his coat and filled a canteen. 

"If that horse throws me--" he began. 

"You got to ride. You _got_ to, understand? I dassent leave him. "

Down in the meadow Overland saddled the pony Yuma. He mounted and shehad her "spell" of bucking. "Now, take her and ride, " said Overland. "After you hit the level, let her out and hang on. If any one tries tostick you up this time--why, jest nacherally _plug_ 'em. Sabe?"

Winthrop nodded. 

Two hours later a wild-eyed, sweating pony tore through the desert townat a run. Her rider slid to the ground as the liveryman grabbed thepony's bridle. 

"Take--care--of her, " gasped Winthrop. "I want--the machine. "

"Anybody hurt?"

"Yes. Who did that?"

Winthrop stood with mouth open and eyes staring. The tires of the bigmachine were flat. 

"I dunno. I watched her every day. I sleep here nights. Las' Sunday Iwas over to Daggett. "

"And left no one in charge?"

"The boy was here. "

"Well--the job is done. Take care of the horse. I'll be back in aminute. "

At the station Winthrop wired for a special car and engine. He gave hischeck for the amount necessary and went back to the stable. He wasworking at the damaged tires when the agent appeared. "Special's at theJunction now. Be here in five minutes. "

Winthrop climbed to the engine-cab. "I'll give you ten dollars for everyminute you cut from the regular passenger schedule, " he said. 

The engineer nodded. "Get back on the plush and hang on, " was his briefacknowledgment. 

 * * * * *

It was dark when the surgeon, drying his hands, came from the cañonstream to the tent. "That's about all I can do now, " he said, slippinginto his coat. 

Overland, who was sitting on a box beside the tent, stood up andstretched himself. "Is he goin' to make it?" he asked. 

"I can't say. He is young, in good condition, and strong. If you willget me some blankets, I'll turn in. Call me in about two hours. "

CHAPTER XXVII

THE RIDERS

Several days passed before the surgeon would express a definite opinion. 

Collie lay, hollow-cheeked and ghastly, in the dim interior of the tent. His eyes were wide and fixed. Overland came in. Collie recognized himand tried to smile. Overland backed out of the tent and strode awaygrowling. The tears were running down his unshaven cheeks. He did notreturn until later in the day. Then he asked the surgeon thatoft-repeated question. 

"I don't see how he can recover, " said the surgeon quietly. "Of coursethere's a slim chance. Don't build on it, though. "

"If there's a chance, I reckon he will freeze to it, " said Overland. "From what he was ramblin' about when he was off his head, I reckon he'sgot somethin' more to live for than just himself. "

"Has he any relatives?" queried the surgeon. 

"Nope. Except me. But he was expectin' to have, I guess. And I tell youwhat, Doc, she's worth gettin' shot up for. "

"Too bad! Too bad, " muttered the surgeon. 

"What's too bad, eh?"

The other shook his head. "If there is any one that he would care tosee, or that would care to see him, you had better write at once. "

Overland was stunned. The doctor's word had been given at last, and itwas not a word of hope. 

Overland Red bowed to the doctor's opinion, but his heart wasunconquerable. He wrote a long letter to his old-time friend, BrandWilliams, of the Moonstone Ranch. The letter was curiously worded. Itdid not mention Louise Lacharme, nor Mrs. Stone, nor the rancher. Itwas, in the main, about Mexico and the "old days"; no hint of Collie'saccident was in the page until the very end. The letter concluded with"But you needn't think you owe me anything for that. I was glad to puthim to the hush because we was pals them days. Collie was shot bySaunders. The doctor says he will die most likely. He was shot in theback. It would go bad with Saunders if the Moonstone boys ever heard ofthis. "

 * * * * *

The letter dispatched by Winthrop, Overland Red took courage. He feltthat he himself was holding Collie's life from sinking. His hugeoptimism would not admit that his friend _could_ die. 

He was leaning back against a rock near the notch and gazing at theslanting moonlight that spread across the somber canyon walls. A weekhad gone since he mailed his letter to Brand Williams, of theMoonstone, and Collie was still alive. Overland shifted his position, standing beside him the Winchester that had lain across his knees, andpulling his sombrero over his eyes. The notch made an excellentbackground for an object over the sights of a rifle, even at night, solong as the moon shone. Gophertown riders would never venture that farup the cañon with horses. They would tether their ponies at the entranceand come afoot and under cover. Still, they would have to pass the notchin any event. 

Thus it was that when, some few minutes later, Overland heard the faintjingle of rein-chains, he grinned. It was celestial music to him. 

The sound came again, nearer the notch, and clearer. He remainedmotionless gazing at the shadowy opening. 

Slowly a shaft of moonlight drew down toward the notch, silvering itsragged edges. Lower the light slid until it revealed the opening and init the figure of a horseman. In the white light Overland could see thequirt dangling from the other's wrist. The horseman's wide beltglittered. 

"Brand!" called Overland Red softly. The opposite wall took up the namehesitatingly and tossed it back. 

"Brand!" whispered the echoes that drifted to the darkened corners ofthe cliff and were lost in voiceless murmurings. 

"Brand your own stock, " came the answer, low and distinct. 

Overland laughed. It was their old-time pun upon the foreman's name. Hegot to his feet and approached. "It does me good, " he said, extendinghis hand. 

"How is Collie?" asked Williams, dismounting. 

Overland heaved great sigh. "He's floatin' somewhere between here andthe far shore. Mebby he's tryin' to pull through. The doc says the kiddon't seem to care whether he does or not. Did--the little RoseGirl--tell you anything to--to say to him?"

"When I was leavin' she come out to the gate, " said Williams. "Shedidn't say much. She only hands me this, and kind of whispered, 'Givehim this. He will understand. '"

And Williams drew a small gray gauntlet from his shirt. Overland tookthe glove and tucked it in his pocket. 

"Anything doing?" asked Williams. 

"Nope. They're overdue to jump us if shootin' Collie was any sign. "

"Like old times, " said Williams. 

"Like old times, " echoed Overland. "No trouble findin' your way across?"

"Easy. Followed them automobile tracks clear to the range. We fed up atthe town. The boys gets kind of restless--"

"Boys? Ain't you alone?"

"Hell, no!" replied Williams disgustedly. "I wish I was! I got fourpigeon-toed, bow-legged, bat-eared Moonstoners down in that meadow, justitchin' mad to cut loose. And they ain't sayin' a word, which issuspicious. Worryin' across the old dry spot the last three days haskind of het 'em up. And then hearin' about Collie. . . . "

"How'd you come to have so much comp'ny?" queried Overland. 

"I was plumb fool enough to read that letter of yours to 'em. They alllike Collie first-rate. Better than I calculated on. The boss talkedturkey to 'em, but he had to let 'em come. He did everything he could tohold 'em, knowin' what was in the wind. "

"And they quit?"

"Quit? Every red-eyed bat of 'em. Bud and Pars and Billy and Miguel. Told the boss they quit, because me bein' foreman they would do as Isays, but if they quit I wasn't their foreman any longer, and they woulddo as they dum please. They had the nerve to tell me that I could comealong if I was wishful. "

"Kind of bad for Stone, eh?"

"The Price boys are holdin' down the ranch. You see, Jack, it hit uskind of hard, Collie ridin' away one mornin', and next thing yourletter that he was down and pretty nigh out. The boys didn't just likethat. "

Overland nodded. "Well, Brand, I guess I'll step down and look 'emover. "

"Only one thing, Jack. I feel kind of responsible for them boys, even ifI ain't their foreman just now. Don't you go to spielin' to 'em and get'em thinkin' foolish. They're about ready to shoot up a town, ifnecessary. "

"Been hittin' the booze any?"

"Some. But not bad. "

"All right. I don't want to say only 'How!' and thank 'em for Collie. IfI say more than three words after that, you can have my hat. "

"It don't take three words, sometimes, " said Williams, somewhatambiguously. 

"Leave it to me, " said Overland, still more ambiguously. 

 * * * * *

Ringed round their little fire in the meadow sat or lay the Moonstoneriders. While crossing the desert Williams had sketched a few of the redepisodes in Overland's early career. These pleased the riders mightily. They were anxious to meet Red Jack Summers. When Williams did introducehim, they were rather silent, asking after Collie in monosyllables. Theyseemed strangely reticent. 

Both Williams and Overland felt an inexplicable tensity in thesituation. 

Miguel, the young Mexican vaquero, broke silence. "How long you call itto this Gophertown place, I think?"

"Thirty miles, " said Overland. 

"Walkin' backwards--like Miguel's talk, " said Billy Dime. 

"That's easy, " said Bud Light. 

"What's easy?" questioned Williams. 

"Walkin' backwards, " replied the facetious Bud. 

"If you don't step on your neck, " said Pars Long. 

"I'm gettin' cold feet, " asserted Bud Light after a silence. 

"That disease is ketchin', " said Billy Dime. 

"I know it. I been sleepin' next to you, " retorted Bud. 

Brand Williams glanced across the fire at Overland, who smiledinscrutably. The undercurrent was unfathomable to Williams, though heguessed its main drift. 

Suddenly Pars Long glanced at the foreman. "Brand, " he said quietly, "weexpect you didn't read all of that letter from your friend here. Yousaid Collie was shot. You didn't say how, which ain't natural. We beentalkin' about it. Where was he hit?"

Overland saw his chance and grasped it with both hands. "In the back, "he said slowly, and with great intensity. 

Followed a silence in which the stamping of the tethered horses and thewhisper of the fire were the only sounds. 

Presently Miguel ran his fingers through his glossy black hair. "In theback!" he exclaimed. "And you needn't to tell that he was run away, neither. "

"In the back?" echoed Billy Dime. 

Overland and Williams exchanged glances. "You done it now, " saidWilliams. 

"'Cordin' to agreement, " said Overland. 

"Make it a wireless, " said Billy Dime. "We ain't listenin', anyhow. "

"Only thirty miles. What do you say, Brand?"

"Nothin'. "

"_As_ usual, " ejaculated Dime. 

"I say about three to-morrow morning, " ventured Pars Long. "Light willbe good about nine. We can do the thirty by nine. A fella would be ableto ride round town then without fallin' over anything. "

"What you fellas gettin' at?" queried Williams. 

"Gophertown, " replied Dime. "You want to come along?"

"Is it settled?" asked the foreman. 

The group nodded. 

"Well, boys, it would 'a' been _my_ way of evenin' up for a pal. "

"Then you're comin', too?"

"Do you think I'm packin' these here two guns and this belt jest toreduce my shape?" queried Williams in a rather hurt tone. 

"Whoop-ee for Brand!" they chorused, and the tethered ponies shied andcircled. 

"I never rode out _lookin'_ for trouble, " said Williams. "And I nevershied from lookin' _at_ it when it come my way. "

"Who said anything about trouble?" queried Billy Dime innocently. "I'm_dry_. I want a _drink_. I'm goin' over to Gophertown to get it. I'lltreat the bunch. "

"Which bunch?"

"Any and all--come stand up and down it. "

"We'll be there when you call our numbers, sister. You comin'?" askedPars Long, nodding toward Overland. 

"Me? Nope. . . . I'm goin'. I'm goin' to ask you boys to kindly allow methe privilege of gettin' my drink first and by my lonesome. There willbe a gent there with sore eyes. He got sore eyes waitin' and watchin'for me to call. I expect to cure him of his eye trouble. After that youwill be as welcome as Mary's little lamb--fried. "

"Bur-rie me not on the lo-o-ne prai-ree, " sang Bud Light. 

"Not while you got the fastest hoss in the outfit, " said Williams. 

"Collie's hoss is here, " said Overland. "I'm ridin' her this trip. Ikind of like the idea of usin' his hoss on this here errand of mercy. "

"Three--to-morrow mornin'!" called Billy Dime, as Overland disappearedin the shadows. 

 * * * * *

Brand Williams, the taciturn, the silent, stepped from the fire andstrode across the meadow. He paused opposite the Yuma colt and gazed ather in the moonlight. He jerked up his chin and laughed noiselessly. "Two-gun Jack Summers on that red Yuma hoss, ridin' into Gophertown withboth hands filled and lookin' for trouble. . . . God! He was bad enoughwhen he was dodgin' trouble. Well, I'm glad I'm livin' to see it. I wascommencin' to think they wasn't any more _men_ left in the country. I'mforty-seven year old. To-morrow I'll be twenty again . . . Or nothin'. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

GOPHERTOWN

Some towns "nestle" on the plain. Others, more aspiring, "roost" in thehills. Gophertown squatted on the desert at the very edge of a range ofbarren foothills. Its principal street was not much more than abridle-trail that led past eleven ramshackle cabins, derelicts of theold mining days when Gophertown knew gold. 

The population of Gophertown was of an itinerant order. This was notalways due to internecine disputes. Frequently a citizen became overboldand visited his old haunts instead of remaining safely, even ifmonotonously, at home. Train robbery was a sure passport to Gophertown'sprotection. Man-killing lent an added distinction to an applicant forhurried admission. Cattle-and horse-thieving were mere industries not tobe confounded with these higher professions. 

Overland Red had once wintered in Gophertown. Immediately previous tohis arrival in Gophertown he had been obliged to maintain, in anunofficial capacity, his former prestige as sheriff of Abilene. The townof Abilene had sympathized with him heartily, but had advised him toabsent himself indefinitely and within the hour. 

The general store and saloon of the old mining camp still stood at thecorner of the town facing the desert. A bleached and faded sign onceread, "Palace Emporium. " The letters now seemed to be shrinking frompublic gaze--vanishing into the wood as though ashamed of themselves. The wording of the sign had been frequently and indifferentlypunctuated. Each succeeding marksman had exploded his own theory, andpassed on. 

Liquor was still to be obtained at the general store. Provisions wereoccasionally teamed in and were made up of peculiarly conglomerate lots. There were no women in Gophertown. There was little local gossip. Therewas no regular watch kept on the outlands. Gophertown felt secure initself. Each man was his own argus. He was expected to know his enemiesby instinct. He was expected, as a usual thing, to settle his disputessingle-handed. 

 * * * * *

Silent Saunders was in the general store and saloon. He was disgusted inthat he had been unable to induce the citizens to ride out with him andclean up Overland Red's claim. Overland had once been of them, even ifbriefly. He had been popular, especially as he was then the quickestman with a gun they had ever honored with their patronage. Also, theGophertown folk had recently received a warning letter from thesuperintendent of a transcontinental railroad. They were not interestedin Saunders's proposal. 

Saunders, coming from the saloon, was not a little surprised to see aband of horsemen far out on the desert. He felt that their presence inhis vicinity had something to do with himself. He counted the horses. There were six of them. He knew instantly that the riders were cowmen, although he could not distinguish one from another. He beckoned to thesaloon-keeper. 

"We could 'a' stopped that, " he said, pointing toward the desert. 

"Big bunch. One--two--three--six of 'em. _Big_ bunch to come visitin'here. "

Saunders gestured toward the cañon behind Gophertown. 

The saloon-keeper shook his head. "Don't think most of our boys will beback this week. Brandin' that bunch of new stock. Takes time to do itright. "

"Well, here comes Parks and Santa Fé Smith, " said Saunders. "That makesfour of us. "

"Mebby--and mebby not, " said the saloon-keeper. "That depends. Dependson the party that's callin' and who they're callin' _on_. "

"There's Sago--just ridin' the ledge trail. That's five. "

"'Lige and Joe Kennedy are up at the corrals, " said the saloon-keeper. "They would hate to miss anything like this. "

"Mebby they won't, if that bunch gets past us, " said Saunders. 

"Seen the time when you could handle them alone, didn't you, Si?"

"Yes, and I can now. "

"Nix, Si. Your gun arms ain't what they was sence Overland Red wingedyou. "

"How in hell do you know he did?"

"I could tell you more. But come on in and have one on the house. If Iwas you, I'd set with my back to the door and be taking a drink. RedSummers never shot a man in the back yet. If he's playin' for _you_, why, that gives you a chance to pull a gun. "

"How about you?" queried Saunders. 

"Me? None of my business. I'm here to push the booze. "

"And you'll do your collectin' with a gun, or go broke, if it's RedSummers and his friends. "

"Tryin' to scare me because you are?" asked the bartender. 

"Red helped Kennedy out of a mix once. Kennedy is his friend. "

"But Joe ain't here. What's gettin' into you? How do you know it is Red, anyway? You act queer. "

"I got a hunch, " said Saunders. 

"Then you want to go into action quick, for when a gunman gets a hunchthat he knows who is trailin' him, it's a bad sign. "

Saunders drummed on the table with his fingers. The drink of liquor hadrestored his nerve. Perhaps the riders were not coming to visit him, after all. He rose and stepped to the door. The oncoming horses werenear enough for him to distinguish the roan outlaw Yuma--Collie's horse. Her rider's figure was only too familiar. Saunders fingered his belt. Unbuckling it, he stepped back into the barroom and laid thetwo-holstered guns and the belt on the table. 

Parks, from up in the cañon, rode up, tied his pony, and strolled to thebar, nodding to Saunders. Following him came Santa Fé Smith, abow-legged individual in sweater and blue jeans. He nodded to Saunders. Presently Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, came in, wheezing andperspiring. Saunders stepped to the bar and called for "one all around. "

As they drank two more ponies clattered up and 'Lige and Joe Kennedyjoined the group at the bar. "Hutch and Simpson are comin' afoot, " saidJoe Kennedy. 

"That leaves Wagner and the Chink to hear from, " said the saloon-keeper. 

"Wagner's sick. I don't know where the Chink is. Everybody seems to 'a'got up in time for dinner, this mornin', eh?" And big Joe Kennedylaughed. "This here bar is right popular jest now. "

"Goin' to be more popular, " said the saloon-keeper. 

"That so?" exclaimed several, facetiously. 

"Ask Saunders there, " said the saloon-keeper. 

"Friends of yours, Silent?"

"Yes. Friends of mine. "

"Whole six of 'em, eh?"

"Whole six of 'em. "

"Well, we won't butt in. We'll give you lots of room. "

Saunders said nothing. He paid for the liquor, and, stepping to thetable, sat with his back to the doorway. In front of him lay his guns, placed handily, but with studied carelessness. He leaned naturally onone elbow, as though half asleep. His hat was tilted over his brows. 

From outside came the jingle of spurs and rein-chains and the distantsound of voices. Saunders began leisurely to roll a cigarette. He laid afew matches on the table. Several of the men at the bar grinnedknowingly. 

Then came the gritting of heels on the hardpacked trail and OverlandRed stood in the doorway. "Mornin', gents--and Saunders, " he said, glancing at the figure seated back toward him. 

"Hello, Red!" exclaimed Joe Kennedy. "Out early, ain't you. Have adrink. "

"Not out too early. Hello, Lusk!"

"How, Red, " said the saloon-keeper. 

"Where's your friends. Ask 'em in, " said Kennedy. 

"Shall I ask 'em in, Saunders?" queried Overland, his voice edged with adouble meaning. 

"Not on my account, " said Saunders over his shoulder. 

"All right. Let's have a drink, boys. "

Even "Go-Light" Sago, the vilest of the Gophertown crew, admiredOverland's coolness in turning his back on Saunders and facing the bar. 

For a second Saunders's fingers twitched. He glanced up. 

Joe Kennedy was looking at him over his glass of whiskey. "Ain't youdrinkin', Silent?" he asked. 

"With some folks, " said Saunders. 

Overland whirled round. "Have a drink with me, then. "

Saunders laughed. 

"Then you don't smoke either, while I'm here, " said Overland, his handon his hip. 

"That so?"

"Yes, that's so! When you try to pull that old bluff of a match-game onme, wait till I'm a hundred and four years old, Silent. That gun-trickdied of old age. Think up a new one. "

"Ain't you talkin' a little loud for polite sassiety?" questioned Sago, addressing Overland. 

"Seein' you're the only one that thinks so, I reckon not, " saidOverland. 

"Then, " said Sago, moving slightly from the bar, "Saunders smokes. "

It was an open declaration of war. Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, sidedwith Saunders. 

According to the ethics of gunmen, Saunders was not armed. He was not"packing iron. " His weapons lay on the table within reach, but he knewOverland would not precipitate matters by shooting him down where hesat. He glanced at Sago. The other winked. 

"Then I smoke, " said Saunders, and reached for a match. He shot from thehip, swinging his guns sideways. The stutter of Overland's automaticsmingled with the roar of Saunders's heavy Colts. 

Sago, jumping clear, pulled his gun. Kennedy clutched his arm. Saundersslid from his chair, coughed horribly, and wilted to the floor. Overlandbacked toward the door, both guns leveled. 

Sago, jerking his arm free, threw two shots at Overland, who repliedwith a rippling tattoo of the automatics. The Inyo County outlaw sank tohis hands and knees. Then Overland leaped through the doorway. TheMoonstone riders spurred toward the saloon, thinking that the quarrelhad provoked too many guns. Overland tried to stop them, but they werehot for fight. 

"It's a clean up!" yelled Parks, running out of the saloon and mountinghis horse. "You framed it, you red-headed son--" He got no further. Brand Williams, thundering down at the head of the Moonstone riders, threw a level shot that cut through Parks, who wavered, but managed towheel his horse and fire at Overland Red. Then the outlaw slid from thesaddle clawing at it as he fell. 

The Gophertown men poured from the saloon, and, seizing their ponies, circled round to the back of the building, firing as they retreated. 

Miguel spurred his big pinto in among them and emptied his gun. He rodeout at a lope, reloading. The front of his flannel shirt was shot away, but he was not aware of it. 

Billy Dime coolly sat his horse and "drew fine" at each shot, till aleaden slug drilled his gun-arm. He swore profusely, and wisely spurredout of range. 

"I got one!" cried Miguel, swinging shut the cylinder of his gun. "I goget another one. "

"Give 'em my com-pli-ments, " said Dime, winding a handkerchief round hisarm and knotting it with one hand and his teeth. 

Williams, keeping under cover, fired slowly and with great precision. Overland Red, utterly unable to manage the Yuma colt under fire, rode upto Williams. "Let's call it off, Brand. I got my man. They was no needof the rest of it. How did it start, anyhow?"

"That's about what the kid said when he let go the wagon on top of thehill. I counted five Gophers down. Billy's hit, and Miguel's goin' tobe, the dam' little fool. Look at him!"

The Gophertown men were drawing away toward the cañon. They turnedoccasionally to throw a shot at Miguel and Pars Long, who followed them. 

Bud Light sat his horse, gazing solemnly at the stump of his gun-finger. His shirt was spattered with blood. 

Suddenly Williams raised a shrill call. The Moonstone boys wheeled theirponies and rode toward him. Williams pointed up the cañon. Down it rodea group of men who seemed to be undecided in their movements. They wouldspur forward and then check and circle, apparently waiting for theirfriends to come up to them. "It's the rest of the Gophertown outfit. Wemight as well beat it, " said Williams. "This here thing's gettin' toopopular all to once. "

"Did that guy get you?" asked Williams, nodding to Overland. 

"Not what you'd notice, " replied Overland. "We'll take a drink on thehouse. She ain't so tidy as she was. "

"Neither is the guy behind the bar, " said Bud Light, pointing with thestub of his finger to Lusk's face. The saloon-keeper had been hit betweenthe eyes by a chance bullet. 

"He's where he belongs, " said Williams. "So is this one. " And Williamstouched Saunders's body with his boot. "Let's drink and vamoose. "

"Here's to the kid!" cried Overland, strangely white and shaky. 

"Here's hoping!" chorused the Moonstone riders. 

[Illustration: IT'S A CLEAN-UP]

CHAPTER XXIX

TOLL

None of the Moonstone boys had supposed that Overland Red was hit. Herode joyfully and even began a poem to the occasion. Williams was firstto notice that Overland's speech was growing thick and that his freehand clasped the saddle-horn. 

The others, riding a little to the rear, burst suddenly into boisterouslaughter. "What you think, Brand?" called Pars Long. "Bud's jest beencountin' his fingers and he says there is one missin'. He ain't sureyet, but he's countin' hard. He has to skip when he comes to number oneon his right mitt. Says he can't get started to count, that way. "

"Some lucky it ain't his head, " replied Williams. 

"His head? Bud would never miss that. But his pore little ole finger, layin' calm and cold back there. A very sad business, brethren. "

"I paid twelve sweaty plunks for her in Los and look at her!" cried ParsLong, doffing his sombrero. The high crown was literally shot to pieces. "I guess I am some wise guy. You fellas kidded me about sportin' anextra high lid. Come on, Chico, they're laughin' at us!"

"If they'd 'a' shot the crown off clean down to your ears, you'd nevernoticed it, " grumbled Billy Dime. 

"Mebby I am a flat-headed chicken, Billy, but I got both wings yet, "retorted Long. 

Billy Dime looked down at the blood-soaked sleeve of his right arm. "Thefella that did it is eatin' grass now, " he muttered. 

"Now, what's the matter with Miguel? Discovered any bullets nestin' inyour manly buzzum, Miguel?"

"I think no. But I lose something, " replied Miguel, smiling. 

"That so?"

"I did have the tobacco and papers here, " he said, and he put his handon his chest. "Now I look and the pocket and some of the shirt is notthere--and my tobacco is gone, and the little papers. "

"Is that all? Sad. I thought you'd lost a railroad or a steamship orsomething. Cheer up! Things might be better. "

"I think I like to smoke, " said Miguel, quite seriously. "I will rideback and get some tobacco and some more papers. "

"That ain't all you'll get. Here, smoke up. You look fine in thatpeek-a-boo shirt. Never knowed you had such a good shape. What sizegloves do you wear, pet?" And Pars Long passed tobacco and papers toMiguel, who rolled a cigarette and smoked contentedly. 

"Billy, you look sick, " said Bud Light. 

"Oh, no! I want to go to a dance, right away. Whoa!"

They drew rein. Williams, dismounting, was bending over his companionOverland, who had suddenly slipped from the saddle. 

"Where's he punctured?" queried Bud Light. 

Williams examined the prostrate man. "Kind of low down, and in the side. 'T ain't bad, but it's bad enough. Got any whiskey?"

"You bet! I got a pocket-gun here. Swiped it in the saloon. " And ParsLong handed a flask to Williams. 

The riders, standing round the fallen man, watched Williams as he boundup the wound, which was bleeding slowly. The whiskey partially revivedOverland. He managed finally to cling to the saddle, supported byWilliams. 

"She's thirty hot miles to camp. Red won't last out, " said Long. 

"I say he does, " said Bud Light. "Did you see them puckers in his hide?I counted seven. He ain't made to be stopped by a gun. "

"Mebby he ain't stopped, but he's slowed up considerable. Did you seethe two guys he got? Saunders was pretty nigh cut in two and the otherone by the bar had four holes in him. I counted 'em, to quit thinkin' ofmy arm. Them automatics is fierce!"

"He would never 'a' got out if he'd been packin' a regular old six-gun, "said Bud Light. "_Both_ them guys were throwin' lead at him. "

"How do you know? You wasn't there. "

"Easy. He went in to get Saunders. He gets him. The other one takes ahand. He got _him_. _We_ didn't do any shootin' inside. "

"Guess that's right. But how about the barkeep?"

"Oh, he just got in the way. He was drilled between the lamps. In a mixlike that who's goin' to take time to draw fine?"

"Did you see Brand lift the Gophertown guy out of his saddle--the onethat was shootin' at Red in front of the joint? Brand threw a forty-fiveinto him, and comin' on the jump, too. The Gopher humped up like he'dbeen horned by the Santa Fé Limited. Now what's the dope?"

Overland Red had again fallen from his horse. Williams beckoned to Long. "Take the Yuma colt, Pars, and fan it for the cañon. Send the doc back, and you stay with that young Winthrop and look after Collie. Your hossis quieter for Red, anyway. Tell the doc to bring his tools along. Ireckon we'll camp over there near the hills till to-morrow. "

"Who was it got me?" questioned Overland as he was revived a secondtime. 

"I don't know, " replied Williams. "The only distinguishin' brand on himwas one I put there. It ain't worryin' him now. "

"Like old times, " said Overland, trying to smile. 

"Like old times, " echoed Williams. 

"I guess it was Parks, " murmured Overland. "He had plenty of chance. Iwasn't after him. "

 * * * * *

Slowly the group of horsemen rode across the desert. The afternoon sunmade queer shadows of them and their mounts. Billy Dime rode bentforward. His face was white and beaded with sweat. Overland, on Long'spony, was supported by Miguel and Brand Williams. Pars Long haddisappeared in the shadows of the range. 

Billy Dime's eyes grew strangely bright. He laughed, gazing at theforeman's back. "The whole damn fuss was wrong, _wrong_, I tell you! Wehad no _business_ shootin' up that town. "

"But it was considerable pleasure, " said Bud Light. "You're off yourbean, Billy. I guess you forget what they did to Collie. "

Billy Dime leered. The fever from his wound was working through hisblood. "Don't pertend to me, Bud Light, that you come on this littlepasear on account of _Collie_. It was _her_ eyes that said to go. Youknow that. She never said words, but her _eyes_ said to go--and to kill!Do you get that? That's what a woman can do to a man, without sayin' aword. And what did Collie ever do for me? Look at that arm. _Look_ atit! What did Collie ever do for me to get shot up this way?" And BillyDime began to weep. "I killed two of 'em--two of 'em. I saw 'em drop. Iwas drawin' fine--_fine_, I tell you, and I couldn't miss. "

Bud Light rode forward to Williams. "Billy's gone off his crust. He'sravin' back there, Brand. "

Williams drew Long's flask from his saddle-pocket. "Give him a shot ofthis. Take some yourself. Miguel and I don't need any. Hold on--I'llgive Red a shot first. When it gets to workin', you yip and ride for thehills. We'll all ride--_ride_, you understand? It'll be a dry camp, anda hard flash, but we'll make it. "

CHAPTER XXX

TWO ROSES

One morning, some three weeks after the invasion of Gophertown, BudLight, Billy Dime, and Brand Williams appeared at the Moonstone Ranchoffice. 

Quite casually they had dismounted, and jingling up had asked for WalterStone. Upon his appearance the younger men applied individually fortheir old places. The room smelled of cigarette smoke and antiseptics. Quite as though nothing unusual had happened the rancher reinstatedthem. 

"Have a good time, boys?" he asked. 

"Yes, sir. Very good time. Better than we expected, " replied Billy Dime. Bud Light nodded. 

Stone looked hard at Billy Dime's bandaged arm. "Miguel and Parson Longhave a good time also?"

"Stayed to help Overland Red work the claim. Overland Red got hurt alittle, doin' somethin'. He's all right now. "

"None of the Moonstone boys were injured?"

"Nope. Not a one of us, " replied Dime blandly. 

Walter Stone's eyes twinkled, but he did not smile. "We will call it avacation this time, with pay. Tell Williams to step in here, please. "And the rancher dismissed his embarrassed and happy punchers with agesture. 

The interview with Williams was not so brief. "The boys came out of itall right?" asked Stone, shaking hands with his old foreman. 

"Yes, sir. "

"How did you manage that?"

"Didn't. They did. "

"Any one--er--of the other side have an accident?"

"Saunders--and six gents got hurt pretty bad. "

"Whew! Our boys were lucky. "

"It was nothin' but luck that they ain't all back there now--on thesand. You see, the Gophertown outfit are all what you'd call good with agun, but it was kind of a surprise, the spreadin' of the thing fromRed's little private deal to a six-hand game. We sure was lucky. "

"And Collie?"

Williams shook his head. "I don't know. We thought he had crossed over. Seems he took a new holt. The doc and Winthrop brung him to Los in theautomobile. He's at the hospital. But they say he don't pick up anysince he come there. "

"All right, Brand. I think that is all. "

"How about my name goin' back on the books?" asked Williams. 

"It hasn't been off the books. You know, Louise attends to thetime-sheet. "

Williams nodded. "I expect Miguel and Parson Long will be sniffin'around lookin' for a job before long. They agreed to stay with Red tillhe got on his feet again. But they told him they would go just as soonas he was all right, for you couldn't run your ranch without 'em. "

Walter Stone smiled broadly. "You're foreman, Brand. "

"They was fightin' just as much for the name of the old Moonstone as forCollie, or for fun, " said Williams. 

"I know it. But I don't believe in such methods. That sort of thing isabout done with, " said Stone. 

"I was readin' about the old days in the Panamint, not long ago, " saidWilliams, gazing at a corner of the office. "I--they was a list of namesof the ranchers that cleaned up the rustlers over there, back in '86. Itwas interestin'--some of them names. "

Walter Stone coughed and turned in his chair. He gazed out of thewindow. Finally he faced Williams again. "We had to do it, " he said, smiling. 

Williams nodded. They understood each other. 

 * * * * *

The Marshalls, delighted with Los Angeles, had taken apartments in thecity. Dr. Marshall, at the urgent request of Walter Stone, had called atthe hospital to see Collie. The wound had healed slowly. Collie gainedno strength. He seemed indifferent as to whether he recovered or not. Dr. Marshall, consulting with the surgeon, agreed that the young man'srecovery was still doubtful. His vitality was extremely low. His usualoptimism had stagnated. 

Later, when Walter Stone, Mrs. Stone, and Louise visited the hospital, Collie had smiled wanly and said but little, thanking them for theirvisit with a word. 

Louise returned home, heartsick and haunted by Collie's eyes that hadseemed so listless, so indifferent, so weary. She had hoped to cheerhim. His indifference affected her more than his actual physicalcondition, which seemed to be the cause of it. Louise recognized inherself a species of selfishness in feeling as she did. Like most folkof superabundant health she was unable to realize the possibilities ofsickness. She longed for his companionship. She had not dared to askherself whether or not she loved him. She was glad that he should loveher--and yet she was not altogether happy. She had sent him her token, the little gray riding-gauntlet. He had in no way acknowledged it. 

The sentiment incident to Collie's almost fatal misfortune did not blindher in the least. She told herself frankly that she missed him. At theranch he had been with her much. From her he had gleaned of books andpeople. The actual advantage to him was not in the quantity of knowledgehe had gained, but in the quality and direction suggested by herattitude toward all things. The advantage to her in his companionshiphad been the joy of giving, of shaping his thought, of seeing him slowlyand unconsciously differentiate himself--stand apart from his fellows assomething she had helped to create. This much of him she possessedthrough conscious effort. 

Then to have seen him in the hospital, helpless, seemingly beyond anynoticeable influence of her presence, stirred in her a kind of maternaljealousy. Straightway she visited Anne Marshall, who kissed her, heldher at arms' length, saw the soft rose glow in her face, and spoke tothe point, albeit in parables. Dr. Marshall had been very poor--a doctorin the slums--just before _they_ were married. People had _said_ thingsand had _looked_ things, which was even worse. They subtly intimatedthat the doctor was marrying her for her money. She was the happiestwoman in the world. She thought Collie was the manliest and moststriking figure she had ever seen. 

To all of which Louise listened quietly, blushing a little. "And he iswealthy, " concluded Anne. "For so young a man, he is wealthy. The RoseGirl Mining Company, Incorporated, my dear, pays well. Collie is one ofthe three largest stockholders. You see, Billy and Overland Red havedecided to turn the claim into a corporation. "

"Don't you contradict your--your theory a little, Anne?" asked Louise. 

"No, indeed! It doesn't matter in the least who has the money, so longas the man is the right one. "

And Louise was silent, and a bit happier. 

The little parcel that came to the hospital, directed to Collie, wasfrom Overland. It was accompanied by a vividly worded note and a small, stained, and wrinkled glove, at once familiar. 

Overland's note explained the delay in forwarding the glove. "It's somemussed up, " he wrote, "because I had it in my shirt when I was hit. Iwas some mussed up likewise, or I would not 'a' forgot it so long. Thelittle Rose Girl sent it to you by Brand when she thinks you was goingto cross over on the last sunset limited. And I am feeling Fine, thanks. Do not rite to me if it gives you cramps. --Youres verryfathefuly, Jack. "

Collie turned the gauntlet over in his trembling fingers. His eyesglowed. He called the nurse, telling her he was hungry. 

Anne Marshall's visits were always refreshing. Well-gowned, cool, fragrant, she came, next afternoon, to Collie's bedside. 

"You _must_ get well, " she said, smiling. "The doctor will be terriblydisappointed if you don't. Isn't that coldly encouraging? What a thingto say!"

"I don't want to disappoint anybody, " said Collie. 

"Well, you will if you don't get better right away, sir! I wish I coulddo something to help. I can only sympathize and encourage the doctor. "

"I know he's doing a whole lot for me. I think mebby you could help--alittle--if you wanted to. "

"Gracious! As though I didn't! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"It only came yesterday, " said Collie, tremulously drawing the gauntletfrom beneath his pillow. 

Anne Marshall gazed at the soiled and wrinkled glove with unenlightenedeyes. Then her quick smile flashed. "Oh! Now I know! So that is thetalisman? Came yesterday? No wonder you seem brighter. "

Collie's answering smile was irresistible. "It isn't just the glove--butwould you--I mean, if you was like me--without being educated oranything--" He hesitated, breathing deeply. 

But Anne Marshall understood him instantly, and answered his shylyquestioning eyes. 

"Indeed, I should. If I had half your chance, I shouldn't waste a minutein claiming the mate to that glove. One glove is of absolutely no use, you know. "

"This one was--pretty much, " sighed Collie. "I was feeling like lettinggo inside and not trying to--to stay any longer, just before it came. "

"S-s-s-h! Don't even think of that. Some one called on me a few daysago. You are a very fortunate young man. "

Anne Marshall's ambiguity was not altogether displeasing to Collie, inthat it was not altogether unintelligible. 

 * * * * *

William Stanley Winthrop, sojourning briefly but fashionably in LosAngeles, appeared at the hospital in immaculate outing flannels. It wasseveral weeks after his sister's last visit there. Winthrop took theconvalescent Collie to the Moonstone Rancho in his car. 

Bud Light and Billy Dime accidentally met the car in the valley andaccompanied it vigorously through Moonstone Cañon. 

Aunt Eleanor and Walter Stone were at the gate. Collie was helped to thehouse and immediately taken to the guest-room. He was much fatigued withthe journey. The question in his eyes was answered by Aunt Eleanor. "Louise rode over to the north range to-day. She should be back now. "

Winthrop scarce needed an introduction. He was Anne Marshall's brother. That was sufficient for the host and hostess. He was made welcome--as hewas wherever he went. He had heard a great deal, from his sister, of theStones, and their beautiful niece, Louise Lacharme. He was enthusiasticabout the Moonstone Cañon. He grew even more enthusiastic after meetingLouise. 

She came riding her black pony Boyar down the afternoon hillside--apicture that he never forgot. Her gray sombrero hung on the saddle-horn. Her gloves were tucked in her belt. She had loosened the neck of herblouse and rolled back her sleeves, at the spring above, to bathe herface and arms in the chill overflow. Her hair shone with a soft goldenradiance that was ethereal in the flicker of afternoon sunlight throughthe live-oaks. From her golden head to the tip of her small riding-bootshe was a harmony of vigor and grace, of exquisite coloring andinfinite charm. 

Her naturalness of manner, her direct simplicity, was almost, if notquite, her greatest attraction, and a quality which Winthrop fullyappreciated. 

"I have been quite curious about you, Mr. Winthrop, " she said. "You arequite like Anne. I adore Anne. Shall we turn Boyar into the corral?"

If William Stanley Winthrop had had any idea of making an impression, heforgot it. The impression Louise was unconsciously making straightwayabsorbed his attention. 

"Yes, indeed! Turn him into the corral--turn him into _anything_, MissLacharme. You have the magic. Make another admirer of him. "

"Thank you, Mr. Winthrop. But Boyar could hardly be improved. "

"You trained him, didn't you?" queried Winthrop. 

Louise laughed. "Yes. But he was well-bred to begin with. "

Winthrop ejaculated a mental "Ouch!" Simplicity did not necessarily meanstupidity. 

"Do you enjoy mining--the real work--out there in the desert, Mr. Winthrop?"

"I could enjoy anything in company with Overland. "

"Of course. Do you think people who have lots of money are apt to becynical?" she asked. 

"Not more so than people without money. But what splendid animals!" heexclaimed as they approached the corral. 

"Uncle Walter and I are very fond of them, " she said, turning Boyar intothe inclosure. 

"Do you know, Miss Lacharme, I like horses and dogs and cats, and I justrevel in burros. But animals don't seem to like me. They're ratherindifferent to me. I wonder if it is a matter of health, or magnetism, or something of that sort?"

"Oh, no! But it is difficult to explain. Even if you are very fond ofanimals it doesn't follow that they will like you. That seems rathercold, doesn't it? It's almost unfair. "

"Yes, if one considers it seriously. "

"Don't you?"

Winthrop gazed at her for a second before replying. "I see I must tellyou the truth, " he said lightly. "You compel it. It _does_ hurt me tohave anything or any one that I care for indifferent to me. Perhaps it'sbecause I realize that I am giving affection and selfishly want 'valuereturned, ' so to speak. Pardon me for becoming serious. "

"Surely! But I thank you, too. See Boyar roll! He's happy. No, hedoesn't roll because his back itches. You see, he's sweaty where thesaddle covered him. Before he rolled, you noticed that he deliberatelyfound a dusty spot. The dust dries the sweat and he doesn't take cold. That's the real explanation. "

"I knew it couldn't be through happiness at leaving you, " said Winthrop. 

"If you are determined to keep it up, " said Louise mischievously, "allright. But be careful, sir! I enjoy it. It's been dull--dreadfully dullsince Anne and the doctor left. May I have your knife?"

A belated crimson Colombe rose nodded beneath the guest-room window. Louise cut the stem and pinned the flower in the lapel of Winthrop'swhite flannel coat. He gazed at her intent on her task. 

"There!" she said, with a light touch of her supple fingers. "That willdo. " And slowly her gray eyes lifted to his. 

The color flooded to his face. His eyes became momentarily brilliant. Hedrew a deep breath. "You told me to be careful. I shall be, " he said, bowing slightly. "Please say something. Your silent attack was a littletoo--too successful. "

"Truce?" she queried, laughing. 

"Never!" replied Winthrop. "Even as our rather mutual and distinctlyillustrious friend Overland says, 'Not till me wires are all down andme lights are out. '"

Collie, standing at the open French window just above them, drew back. Quite naturally, being a young man in love, he misinterpreted all thathe had seen and heard. Louise had been away the day he was expected toreturn to the ranch. She had come back. She was seemingly satisfied withWinthrop's society. She was even more than satisfied; she was flirtingwith him. An unreasonable, bucolic jealousy, partly due to hiscondition, overcame Collie's usual serenity. His invalidism magnifiedthe whole affair to absurd proportions. 

Perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze that caused Louise to glanceup. His expression startled her. His eyes were burning. His face wasunnaturally white. He met her glance, but gave no sign of recognition--arudeness that he regretted even while he manifested it. 

Louise turned away proudly, calling Winthrop's attention to a hugegarden-seat beneath the live-oaks. "We have dinner out there quiteoften, " she said, her eyes glowing. "Would you care to rest a whileafter your ride?"

"'A jug of wine--a loaf of bread--'" he quoted. 

"But it isn't a wilderness. And dinner won't be ready for an hour yet. Don't you think a wilderness would have been utterly stupid with his'thou' beside him singing everlastingly? Now please don't say, 'It woulddepend on the _thou_. '"

"Do you sing, Miss Lacharme?"

"A little. "

"Please, then, --a little. Then I'll answer your question. "

"I had rather not, just now. "

"My answer would be the same in either case. This is living, after thedesert and its loneliness. I discovered one thing out there, however, --myself. It was a surprise. My 'way-back ancestors must havebeen pirates. "

"Mine--grew roses--in southern France. "

"I am glad they eventually came to America, " he said. 

"Are you so fond of candy, Mr. Winthrop?"

"No. "

"Neither am I. "

"I'm glad they came, just the same. I simply can't help it. "

"Overland--Mr. Summers--doesn't take life very seriously, does he?"asked Louise. 

"Not as seriously as life has taken him, at odd times. "

"You brought Collie in your car, didn't you?"

"Yes. "

"He's much better?"

"Yes. But he's pretty shaky yet. He's a little queer, in fact. As wecame up the cañon he asked me to stop the car by the cliff, near thisend, --that place where the sunlight comes through a kind of notch in thewest. I thought he was tired of the motion of the car, so we stopped andhe lay back looking at the cliff. Pretty soon the sun shot a long raypast us and it fairly splattered gold on the cañon wall. Then the shaftof sunlight went out. 'It will shine again, ' he said, as if I didn'tknow that. Collie's a pretty sick man. "

Later Winthrop and Louise joined the others at the veranda. Louiseexcused herself. She searched a long time before she found another rose. This time it was a Colombe bud, full, red, and beautiful. She stepped toCollie's window. "Boy!" she called softly. 

White and trembling, he stood in the long window looking down at her. "I'm glad you are home again, " she said. 

He nodded, and glanced away. 

"Boy!" she called again. "Catch. " And she tossed the rose. He caught itand pressed it to his lips. 

CHAPTER XXXI

NIGHT

Evening, placidly content with the warm silence, departed lingeringly. Belated insects still buzzed in the wayside foliage. A bee, overtaken inhis busy pilfering by the obliterating dusk, hung on a nodding mountainflower, unfearful above the cañon's emptiness. An occasional birdventured a boldly questioning note that lingered unfinished in thesilence of indecision. Across the road hopped a young rabbit, a littlerounded shadow that melted into the blur of the sage. A cold white fire, spreading behind the purple-edged ranges, enriched their somber panoplywith illusive enchantments, ever changing as the dim effulgence driftedfrom peak to peak. Shadows grew luminous and were gone. In their steadwooded valleys and wide cañons unfolded to the magic of the moon. Therewas no world but night and imagination. 

With many rustlings the quail huddled in the live-oaks, complainingquerulously until the darkness silenced them. 

The warm, acrid fragrance of the hills was drawn intermittently acrossthe cooler level of the shadowy road. A little owl, softly reiteratinghis cadences of rue, made loneliness as a thing tangible, a thinggroping in the dusk with velvet hands. 

Then came that hush of rest, that pause of preparation, as though nighthesitated to awaken her countless myrmidons. With the lisping ofinvisible leaves the Great Master's music-book unfolded. That low, orchestral "F"--the dominant note of all nature's melodies--sounded intimorous unison--an experimental murmuring. Repeated in higher octaves, it swelled to shrill confidence, then a hundred, then myriad invisibleschanted to their beloved night or gossiped of the mystery of stars. 

Then Night crept from the deep, cool cañons to the starlit peaks andknelt with her sister hill-folk, Silence and Solitude; knelt, listeningwith bowed head to that ancient antiphony of thankfulness and praise;then rose and faced the western sea. 

Boyar, the black pony, shook his head with a silvery jingling ofrein-chains. His sleek flanks glistened in the moonlight. Louise curbedhim gently with hand and voice as he stepped through the wide gateway ofthe ranch. 

He paced lightly across the first shallow ford. Then the narrowing wallsof the cañon echoed his clean-cut steps--a patter of phantom hoof-beatsfollowing him, stride for stride. Down the long, ever-winding road theyswung. 

Louise, impelled to dreams by the languorous warm night and Boyar's easystride up the steep, touched his neck with the rein and turned him intothe Old Meadow Trail. 

The tall, slender stems of the yucca and infrequent clumps of dwarfedcacti cast clear-edged shadows on the bare, moonlit ground. Boyar, sniffing, suddenly swung up and pivoted, his fore feet hanging oversheer black emptiness. Louise leaned forward, reining him round. Evenbefore his fore feet touched the trail again, she heard the sibilant_bur-r-ing_ of the cold, uncoiling thing as it slid down the blindshadows of the hillside. 

"I shan't believe in omens, " she murmured. 

She reassured the trembling Boyar, who fretted sideways and snorted ashe passed the spot where the snake had been coiled in the trail. 

At the edge of the Old Meadow the girl dismounted, allowing Boyar tograze at will. 

She climbed to the low rounded rock, her erstwhile throne of dreams, where she sat with knees gathered to her in her clasped hands. The ponypaused in his grazing to lift his head and look at her with gentlywondering eyes. 

The utter solitude of the place, far above the viewless valley, allowedher thought a horizon impossible at the Moonstone Rancho. Alone shefaced the grave question of making an unalterable choice. Collie hadasked her to marry him. She had evaded direct reply to his directquestion. She knew of no good reason why she should marry him. She knewof no better reason why she should not. She thought she was content withbeing loved. She was, for the moment. 

The Old Meadow, that had once before revealed a sprightly and raggedromance, slumbered in the southern night; slumbered to awaken to thehushed tread of men and strange whisperings. 

Down in the valley the coyotes called dismally, with that infiniteshrill sadness of wild things that hunger, and in their wailing pulsedthe eternal and unanswerable "Why?" challenging the peaceful stars. Something in their questioning cry impelled Louise to lift her hands tothe night. "What is it? What is it up there--behind everything--thatnever, never answers?"

The moon was lost somewhere behind the ragged peaks. The night grewdeeper. The Old Meadow, shadowed by the range above it, grew dark, impenetrable, a place without boundary or breadth or depth. 

"Got a match, kid?"

Louise raised her head. Some one was afoot on the Old Meadow Trail. Shecould hear the whisper of dried grasses against the boots of the men asanother voice replied, "Sure! Here you are. " And Louise knew that Colliewas one of the men. 

About to call, she hesitated, strangely curious as to who the other manmight be, and why Collie and he should foregather in the Old Meadow, atnight. 

"Never mind, " mumbled the first speaker; "I thought I wanted to smoke, but I don't. I want to talk first--about the Rose Girl. "

Louise tried to call out, but she was interrupted by Overland's voice. The two men had stopped at the lower side of the great rock. She couldhear them plainly, although she could not see them. 

"Collie--we're busted. We're done, Chico. I ain't said nothin' to Billyyet. He's got money, anyway. This here only hits you and me. "

"What do you mean, Red?"

"I mean that the Rose Girl Mining Company, Incorporated, Jack Summers, President and General Manager, don't belong to us and never did. We beensellin' stock that ain't ours and never was. "

"How's that?"

"I was goin' to write. But I ain't no hand to write about business. Writin' po'try is bad enough. You recollec' them papers and that dustBilly tried to find, out there by the track?"

"Yes. "

"Well, I found it all. Since the company is workin' the claim now and Ididn't have so much to do, I got to thinkin' of them papers. I went outthere, paced her off down the track, guessed at about where it was, andfound 'em. "

"Found them?"

"Yes, sir. There was that little bag almost atop of the sand, account ofwind and rain. Then there was a record of the claim, our claim. It'sbeen filed on before. We made a mistake and filed on the wrong section. When me and Billy went to file, I noticed the clerk said something abouthavin' neighbors on the claim next, but I was scared of answerin' toomany questions, so I give him some cigars and beat it. "

"Who owns our claim, then?"

"That's the queer part of it. You know the guy we give the water to--theone that died out there. _He_ owns the claim, or he did. It belongs byrights to his girl now. His name was André Lacharme. "

"Lacharme!"

"Yes, Louise's pa. Recollect your boss tellin' us as how the Rose Girl'sdaddy was missin' out in the Mojave? Then they was a letter--old and'most wore out--from Walter Stone himself. It was to him--herpa--tellin' him about the little Louise baby and askin' him to come tothe Moonstone and take a job and quit prospectin'. That's where westand. "

Louise, breathless, listened and could not believe that she was real, that this was not a dream. André Lacharme! Her father!

"I seen a lawyer about it, " resumed Overland. "He said it was plainenough that the claim belonged to the dead prospector or his girl, now. You see, we worked the claim and kep' up the work accordin' to law. Whatwe made ain't ours, but I'm mighty glad it's hers. 'Course, we earnedwhat dust we dug, all right. Now I'm leavin' it up to you. Do we tellher or do we say nothin', and go on gettin' rich?"

"Why do you put it up to me?" asked Collie. 

"Because, kid, you got the most to lose. Your chance is about gone withthe Rose Girl if you let go the gold. Sabe? The little Rose Girl iswise. She don't give two cents for money--but she ain't foolish enoughto marry a puncher that's workin' for wages on her uncle's ranch. Andwhen she gets all me and Billy made and your share, she'll be rich. Thatwon't be no time for you to go courtin' _her_. It ain't that you ain'tgood enough for any girl. But now'days things is different. You got tohave money. "

"Do you think Louise would take the money?" asked Collie. 

"I don't know. But that ain't it. We either give it up--or we don't. What do you say?"

"Why--to tell Louise, of course. I meant that right along. You ought toknow that. "

"You givin' it up because you had some fuss with her, or anything likethat?"

"No, Red. I say tell her, because it's square. Did she stop to askquestions when I was in trouble? No. She went to work to help me, quick. I guess we care more for her than a whole carload of gold. "

"Well, I guess. Once I wouldn't 'a' stopped to worry about whose gold itwas. But knowin' the Rose Girl, --knowin' what she _is_, --why, it'smakin' me soft in me morals. "

"What do we do now, Red?"

"I'm goin' to beat it. Back to the dusty for mine. "

"You don't have to do that, Red. "

"That's just why I'm a-doin' it. I like to do what I like. "

"Quitting now seems like saying, 'I'm whipped, '" said Collie. "Quittingafter giving up our money to her looks like we were sore--even if we doit and smile. She would feel bad, Red. She'd think she drove us off. "

"No, I reckon not. She'll see that I always been a good daddy to you andput you right in this case. It was all right when you had a chance. Itain't now. It ain't fair to her, neither, because she's like to stick toany promises she might 'a' made you. "

"Why don't you ask Stone for a job?" said Collie. 

"What? Me? After bein' President of the Rose Girl Mining Company, in--Say! They's no halfway house for me. It's all or nothin'. Why, Idon't even own the Guzzuh. Could you stand it to see her every day, andyou just a puncher workin' for the Moonstone. She would smile and treatyou _fine_, and you'd be eatin' your own heart out for her. "

"No, I couldn't, " said Collie slowly. "Red, I guess you're right. "

Collie's perspective was distorted through sudden disappointment. Theold life of the road . . . The vague to-morrows of indolence . . . Thesprightly companionship of Overland Red, inventive, eloquent. . . . 

"Red, if I come with you, it's because I can't stand seeing her--aftereverything that has happened. It is square to her, too, I guess. "

"I ain't askin' you, Collie, but there's nothin' like ramblin' to makeyou forget. It's got hard work beat to a mush, because when you'reramblin' you're 'most always hungry. Listen! Love is when you ain'tsatisfied. So is a empty stomach. A fella's got to eat. Do you getthat?"

"Yes. But, Red, you said you loved a woman once. You didn't forget. "

"No, kid. I didn't. Once I didn't do nothin' else but remember. I gotover that. It's only accidental to circumstances pertainin' to the factthat I remember now. You never seen _me_ cry in my soup, did you?"

"But you're different. "

"That's the blat every yearlin' makes till he grows up and finds outhe's a cow jest like his ma. I ain't different inside. And bleedin'inside is dangerouser than bleedin' outside. Listen! Remember the littlefire beside the track, when we was 'way up in the big hills? Rememberthe curve, like a snake unwindin' where she run round the hill, andnothin' beyond but space and the sun drippin' red in the ocean? Rememberthe chicken we swiped and et that night? And then the smokes and lookin'up at the stars? Remember that? Listen!

 "It's beat it, bo, while your feet are mates, And we'll see the whole United States. With a smoke and a pal and a fire at night, And up again in the mornin' bright, With nothin' but road and sky in sight And nothin' to do but go. 

 "Then, beat it, bo, while the walkin' 's good; And the birds on the wires is sawin' wood. If to-day ain't the finest for you and me, There's always to-morrow, that's goin' to be. And the day after that is a-comin'. See! And nothin' to do but go. 

 "I'm the ramblin' son with the nervous feet, That never was made for a steady beat. I had many a job for a little spell; I been on the bum, and I've hit it swell. But there's only one road to Fare-ye-well, And nothin' to do but go. "

"With nothing to do but go, " whispered Collie. "Red, we've always beenfriends?"

"You bet your return ticket!"

"And we are always going to be, " said Collie. "I guess that settles it. I--I wish Saunders--had--finished me. "

Louise, numb from sitting still so long, moved slightly. 

"What's that?" exclaimed Collie. 

"Jest some of your little old ideas changin' cars, " replied Overland. "You'll get used to it. "

"No; I heard something. "

"You'll be seein' things next. Got a match? I'm jest dyin' for a smoke. Remember when she give us the makin's and you got hot at me?"

Overland cupped the flame in his hands and lighted his cigarette. Thesoft glow of the match spread in the windless air, penetrating thedarkness. For an instant, a breath, Overland saw a startled face gazingdown at him; the white face of the Rose Girl!

"Great Snakes!" he cried, stepping back as the flame expired. 

"What's the matter, Red?"

"Nothin'. I was just thinkin'. I burned my mitt. Come on, Collie. Brand'll find a bunk for me to-night, I reckon. We'll tell the boss andthe Rose Girl all about it to-morrow. "

CHAPTER XXXII

MORNING

"Something's goin' to happen, " stated Brand Williams. 

"How's that?" queried Bud Light. 

"See them two bosses--the Yuma colt and Boyar--?"

"Uhuh. "

"Well, Boyar's been standin' there since daylight, saddled. Nobody rideshim but Miss Louise. "

"It's mighty early, but I don't see nothin' strange about the rest ofit. "

"Wait a minute, Bud. Did you see Collie this mornin'? Was he all fixedup with his hair jest _so_, and his bandanna jest _so_, and his newsombrero and his silver spurs, and them new chaps, lookin' mightyimportant? He saddles Yuma and ties her over there. While he was eatin', the Boyar hoss trails his bridle over to where Yuma is tied. There theystand visitin' like two old soldiers on crutches instead of two mightyquick-actin' cayuses. Now that Yuma hoss has kicked the fancy linin' outof every cayuse that dast come nigh her. They 're _all_ scared of her. She's makin' an exception this mornin'. She's plumb friendly withBoyar. That signifies! Hosses can see farther in the dark than folks. "

"Signifies what?"

"Well, after all the talk I jest wasted on you, it signifies that you'retoo thick-headed, Buddy, to waste any more on. I can learn you to_spell_ if you wanta take lessons. "

"You're dreamin', Brand. Wake up! As to spellin'--I'm spellin' right nowwhile the fo'man is entertainin' me. "

"Thanks for callin' my attention to it. You can take your hoss and rideover to the Three Oaks. There's some fence down, over at the NorthSpring. I ain't dreamin' about that. "

Bud Light departed, swearing to himself. He disliked mending fence. Williams knew it. The cheerful Bud, "Reckoned he ought to 'a' knownbetter than to try to ride the old man into the fence. Next time hewould listen--and mebby learn something. "

Louise, drawing on her gauntlets, came down the broad steps of theranch-house. The November air was crisp with the tang of early morning. 

She was puzzled at finding Boyar and Yuma together. She noticed Boyarhad trailed his bridle across the yard--an unusual thing for him to do, considering his training. Louise spoke to the Yuma colt, who sniffed ather gloved hand. The girl wondered why Collie had saddled Yuma. Heusually rode one of the ranch horses to work. She wanted to talk withhim--to reason with him; for her knowledge of the previous night'sdisclosures worried and distressed her. She thought Collie's halfpromise to Overland Red to turn to their old life had been too easilymade. Her pride in him was touched. She was hurt, and not a littleangry. She saw the flaw in his ultimate decision to sacrifice himselfand his prospects through a too stringent and quixotic interpretation ofhis duty. To go back to the old life again--a tramp!

But Collie was not to be seen. However, Louise never hesitated long. Deliberately she untied the Yuma colt and swung into the saddle. BlackBoyar seemed to realize something unusual in her preference. He frettedas the roan pony leaped sideways toward the gate. 

Louise knew that Collie would follow her. She was riding his pony, theYuma colt, and he would be fearful for the rider's safety. 

Collie, coming from the bunk-house, glanced up and saw Black Boyarstanding alone where his own pony had stood. This was not an invitation;this was daring him to follow. 

He rode into the cañon, half conscious of Yuma's tracks ahead of him. Herode past the tracks as they swerved toward a grassy level near thestream. 

"Collie!"

Louise stood beside the sweating Yuma, patting the pony's neck. Collieraised his sombrero formally. 

Louise was bareheaded. The clear morning sunlight enhanced her richcoloring. Against the misty gray of the cañon wall, her head in profile, as she stood beside the horse, was as delicately beautiful as thatvision that imagination knows full well but may seldom realize. 

"Yes, ma'am. "

"Collie, don't! Say anything but that. You look awfully glum. Surely notbecause I took Yuma. "

"No. Only I was afraid for you. "

"So you followed at break-neck speed to rescue the timorous, thedespairing, and-so-forth?"

"I can't joke like that this morning. "

"Why? I'm here, safe enough. Had breakfast?"

"Yes. I wanted to see you about something, Louise. "

"All right. But you are so unnaturally tall and severe and judicialsitting there on Boyar. You look almost funereal. Please get down. Rolla cigarette and act natural. I'm not going to scold you, sir. "

"I wish you would. "

"Why? What have you been doing that makes you look so ashamed ofyourself. Tell me!"

"I didn't know I was. "

"You don't act naturally. Is there something about me that is different?Is that it?"

"No. I wish you was different, sometimes. "

"You do?"

"No, " he said gently. "I don't wish you were different. I want toremember you like you are. "

"To _remember_ me?"

"Yes, " he whispered, "to remember you. "

He seemed to see regret, astonishment, questioning, gentle reproof, evena hint of amusement in her eyes. But her expression changed instantly. "I think you have something to remember me by; something you asked mefor once, long ago. I sent it to you. You have never spoken ofit--acknowledged it. I can't quite forgive that. "

"Your glove. I know. I got it here. " And he touched his breast. "Ithought you would understand. "

"I do. But, Collie, a girl always likes to be told that she isunderstood, even when she knows it. "

"I was going to write about getting your glove, at the hospital. I guessI was too tired. "

"At the hospital?"

"Yes. Red sent it to me. Brand gave it to him to give to me--that time. "

"Oh!" And Louise felt like retracting a little; but sweetly perverse, she obeyed sheer instinct. "Collie, do you realize that I have alreadyasked you to dismount? Shall I have to ask you again? Do you realizethat I am standing while you are sitting your horse?"

"I am begging your pardon, Louise. "

The girl nodded brightly, smiling as she noticed the little scar on hischin--a wound that she had made him blush for when she had admonishedhim for fighting with Dick Tenlow. 

She watched the rise and fall of the muscles of his arm, beneath hisflannel shirt, as he lighted his cigarette. How broad-chested and strongand wholesome he seemed in the morning sunlight! There was an untamedgrace about his movements, his gestures, which, together with hisabsolute unconsciousness of self, pleased and attracted her. 

"Yuma is a little wild, but she is a fine saddle-pony. I'm reallyjealous for Boyar's prestige. "

"I was afraid for you to ride her, " said Collie. 

"She behaves beautifully. "

"Would you take her as a kind of present from me?" he asked. 

"Give Yuma to me? I thought you loved her?"

"I do. That's why I want you to have her. "

"He would give you away, " said Louise, stroking Yuma's neck. "Give youaway just as you're learning to trust him and perhaps even like him alittle--and he says he loves you! Let's run away from him, Hummingbird!"

"I think I could stand it if you would just be mean once, " said Collie. 

"Stand what, Collie?"

He had been watching her shapely hand and supple, rounded wrist as shestroked the pony's neck. Swiftly she turned from the horse and facedhim. "What, Collie?" There was laughter in her eyes, a laughter thatchallenged more than his serious mood. Her lips were smiling. Her chinwas tilted provokingly. 

His eyes grew wide with unspoken love, unuttered longing. He delightedin the delicious curve of her cheek, and of her arm resting on thesaddle. Her poise had an inexplicable suggestion of royal courage, asthough she were battling for more than her lips could utter. In herabsence he had adored her. Now he forgot all that he had meant to tellher in the sensuous delight of her mere presence. But even that was notenough. He dropped the pony's reins and strode toward her. Louise paledeven as he drew near, but he saw nothing but her eyes and her lips, lipsthat curved wistfully, provoking tenderness and love. For an instantLouise held her heart aloof. 

"Let me just worship you--a little while--a little while, " he whispered. 

"Only a little while?" she breathed; and the soft rose glowed in hercheeks. 

"Just forever, " he said. 

And Louise Lacharme, more beautiful than the morning, Louise, his mostgracious señorita, his Madonna of the Rose, lifted her arms to him. Herlips quivered like a child's, tremulous with longing to tell himsilently, as his lips found hers, all that her heart was giving and allthe wealth of love it yet should give. 

Gently his hands clasped her golden head. His whole being thrilled as hetouched her hair, her cheeks, her lips. "Oh, Collie! Collie! Love mealways, " she whispered. And she drew him down to her breast and caressedhis cheek, sighing and murmuring little endearments and sweet, brokenwords of love. 

 * * * * *

Moonstone Cañon, coldly beautiful, echoed the hoof-beats of the poniesas they walked homeward. 

Louise turned in the saddle. "Collie, " she said with an indescribablegesture of appeal, "you will always take care of me, won't you?"

"My Rose Girl! Why do you say that?"

"I was thinking of my father. "

Louise saw his lips stiffen and his chin lift. "Louise, I had no right, just now, --I haven't any right--I'm poor. The claim wasn't ours. "

"I didn't mean that, " she said, smiling wistfully. "But you will alwayscare for me, won't you? I don't care one bit about the claim. It hasmade trouble and sorrow enough. I can't remember my father. I can hardlythink of him as my father. But it is horrible to think of his dying forwater because he cared so much for gold. "

"But how did you know?"

"I know, " she answered gravely. "And I know that you are a very, veryfoolish boy, not to trust your friends more than you do. Did you supposeyou would be happier or better in leaving Moonstone Rancho? Did yousuppose I would be happier? Collie, you have so much to learn. "

"I guess that's so, " he sighed. Then his eyes brightened with hisold-time mischief. "Couldn't you begin now to teach me a little--likeback there in the cañon?"

And being of a decisive habit of mind, he rode close to Louise andclaimed immediate and delicious instruction. 

"But how _did_ you know?" he asked again--"about the claim and yourfather and me?"

"A secret that I share with Overland, " she replied. 

[Illustration: CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?]

"So he told you! When? Not last night. He was asleep when I came awaythis morning. "

"So he is here, then?"

"Louise, you're joking. Didn't Red talk to you?"

"No. "

"And you know all about it already?" He looked at her curiously for amoment. "Did you know that I said I was going to leave the Moonstone?"

"Why?"

"For the same reason that I can't now--you. Red and Billy Winthrop and Idon't own a cent's worth of the claim now. I don't even own what's inthe bank. All I got is Yuma. "

"You gave Yuma to me, Collie. "

"I sure did. I haven't even her. But I've got you. Oh, Louise! I can'tbelieve it. I could just shout. Can't I have another one, Rose Girl?"

"Must I teach you not to ask?" said Louise. 

Collie took her other meaning as she made a little mouth at him. "Notafter this, " he said, and gave apt proof that he meant it. 

"More than a whole carload of gold?" she asked, gazing at him. 

"You know _that_, too?"

"Collie?"

"What is it?"

"Promise that you won't speak to any one about the claim, or thedesert, or my father until I say you may. "

"Of course I promise. "

"Nor about ourselves, until I tell you to. "

"Never--if it will make you happy. "

 * * * * *

Overland Red, sitting on a boulder beside the road, stooped and gatheredup a handful of pebbles. Then, for lack of other interest, he invented agame of ancient and honorable origin. "She loves me, " he said tossingaway a pebble. "She loves me not. " And up spun another pebble. So hecontinued until the pebbles were gone. "She loves me not, " he mutteredlugubriously. Then his face brightened. "Of course she don't. She loves_him_. That's what I was tryin' to get at, anyway. "

He fumbled at a huge bunch of little red flowers called "Hummingbird'sTrumpets. " He arranged the hastily constructed bouquet to suit him. Thenhe laid it on the rock. 

"Accordin' to the latest book on good table-manners, or 'How to Be HappyThough Dressed Up, ' this here bouquet is the proper thing. They'll thinkI'm some wiz' when I step out and present these here hummin'birds'bugles. Huh! I seen the two bosses gone, and I gets wise direct. But Igot to brace up. Wonder what she'll think about me--after hearin' what Isaid last night at the Old Meadow? Gee! I wonder what I did say? Did Icuss much? I forget. H-m-m. Good-mornin', folks! I--er--This here--Themhummin'birds' bugles--flowers--Happy day--Collie, what's wrong with you?What you laughin' at?"

"You, of course. Where did you get the posies?"

"Picked 'em along the Golden Shore. Just got back. "

"You do look scared, Red. "

"Seein' you're gettin' personal--_you_ needn't to think because _you_just been there that I never will. "

"Say, Overland--I--we--" began Collie. 

"I knowed it! I won't say a word to nobody. "

Collie glanced at Louise. She nodded. Then she gave Overland her hand. He seized it and stood looking into her sweet gray eyes. "Little RoseGirl, " he said quietly, "you always was the best and kindest andbeautifullest we ever knowed. It ain't the first time you give your handto help them that ain't fit to touch it. If there _is_ any Golden Shore, I guess me and Collie will be there just because we knowed you down hereand couldn't stay around, nohow, where you wasn't. And, believe me, ifhe don't treat you from now on like you was a plumb angel, I'll--I'llride him off the big range and into space quicker'n shootin' stars!These here flowers is for you--not for that long-legged grasshopperridin' your hoss there. I should think Boyar would be plumb ashamed. "

"Then Collie can walk, " said Louise promptly. "Collie, will you pleaselet Mr. Summers take Boyar? I want to talk with the President of--of mymine a little while. "

"Don't faint, Chico, " said Overland, swinging into the saddle. "I alwayswas the 'cute little gopher with the ladies. You watch _us_ ride up thistrail if you want to see a pair that _can_ ride. "

Collie shook his fist at the grinning Overland, who had turned as herode away. "You want to learn to act quick when a lady asks you, " calledOverland. "You didn't get off this hoss any too spry. "

Then Collie stooped and picked up a little red flower that had droppedfrom the boisterous one's offering. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

A SPEECH

The Marshalls and Billy Winthrop came in their car. The ride through thecañon had been pleasant. They were talking about Overland. They had beendiscussing the rearrangement of a great many things since the news ofLouise's heritage had become known. 

"You had better close the muffler, Billy. You are frightening thatpony!"

"That's the Yuma colt, " said Winthrop. "Overland is riding her. "

"Overland?"

"Yes. He's coming to meet us. "

Plunging through the crackling greasewood at the side of the road, theYuma colt leaped toward the car. In broad sombrero, blue silkneckerchief, blue flannel shirt, and silver-studded leather chaps, was astrangely familiar figure. The great silver spurs rang musically as thepony reared. The figure gave easily to the wild plunging of the horse, yet was as firm as iron in the saddle. 

Anne drew a deep breath. It was not the grotesque, frock-coated Overlandof a recent visit, nor was it the ragged, unkempt vision Louise hadconjured up for her in relating the Old Meadow story. In fact, it wasnot Overland Red at all, but Jack Summers, the range-rider of the oldred Abilene days. He was clean-shaven, vigorous, splendidly strong, andconfident. In the saddle, bedecked in his showy trappings, surrounded byhis friends, Jack Summers had found his youth again, and the past was asa closed book, for the nonce. 

"I'm the boss's envy extraordinary, " said Overland, by way of greeting. "Walt said something else, too, about bein' a potentiary, but I reckon_that_ was a joke. "

"Good-morning! Don't get down! Glad to see you again!"

But Overland was in the road, hat in hand, and Yuma's bridle-reins overone arm. 

"'Mornin', Billy! 'Mornin', Doctor! You run right up to the house. I leftthe gate open. "

Then Overland rode back, following them. Later he reappeared, minusspurs and chaps, but still clad in the garb of the range-rider. He wasas proud and happy as a boy. He seemed to have dropped ten years fromhis shoulders. And he was strangely unlike his old boisterous selfwithal. 

The noon sun crept through the moon-vine. Out on the wide veranda wasthe long table. They were a happy group at luncheon there. Even thetaciturn Brand Williams had been persuaded to come. His nativepicturesqueness was rather effaced by a black, characterless suit of"store clothes. "

Walter Stone, at the conclusion of the luncheon, asked Overland to makea speech. Nothing daunted, Overland rose briskly. 

"I expect you're lookin' for me to fall off the roof of the cannery intothe tomato-vat and make a large red splash. Not me. I got somethin' tosay. Now the difference in droppin' a egg on the kitchen floor andbreakin' it calm-like, in a saucer, ain't only the muss on the floor. You save the egg. Just recent I come nigh to losin' my whole basket. Youall know who saved 'em. Not namin' any names, the same person, by jestbein' herself, and kind to everybody, put me wise to the fact that moneyand clothes ain't all that goes to make a man. And, at the same time, speakin' kind of orthodoxical, money and clothes has a whole lot to dowith makin' a man. I just got hep to that idea recent. 

"Speakin' of clothes leads me to remark that I got a new outfit up atthe bunk-house. It's a automobilein' outfit. Billy says it's the correc'thing. He helped me pick it out. Which leads Billy into this here thing, too. He said to break the news gentle, and not scare anybody to deathand not get 'em to thinkin' that somebody was hurt or anything likethat, so I'm breakin' it to you easy. Me and Billy is goin' away. We'regoin' in the Guzzuh--'God save the mush, ' as the pote says. We are theOverland Red Towerist and Observation Company, Unlimited. We are goin'

 "'Round the world and back again; Heel and toe in sun and rain'--

as another pote says. Only we ride. I ain't got nothin' to say aboutgettin' married, or happy days, or any of that ordinary kind of stuff. Iwant to drink the health of my friends. I got so many and such good onesthat I dassent to incriminate any particular one; so I say, lookin' atyour faces like roses and lilies and--and faces, I say, --

 "'Here's to California, the darling of the West, A blessin' on those livin' here-- And God help all the rest. '"

Overland sat down amid applause. He located his tobacco and papers, rolled a cigarette with one hand, and gazed across the hills. Glancingup, he saw Louise looking at him. He smiled. "I was settin' on a crazybronc' holdin' his head up so he couldn't go to buckin'--outside alittle old adobe down in Yuma, Arizona, then. Did you ever drift awaylike that, just from some little old trick to make you dream?"

At a nod from Aunt Eleanor they all rose. 

Louise stepped from her end of the table to where Overland stood gazingout across the hills. She touched him lightly on the arm. He turned andlooked at her unseeingly. His eyes were filled with the dreams of hisyouth, dreams that had not come true . . . And yet. . . . He gazed down intoher face. His expression changed. His eyes grew misty with happiness. Herealized how many friends he had and how loyal and excellent they were. And of all that he had gained his greatest treasure was his love forLouise--for Louise Lacharme, the little Rose Girl of his dreams. Thatlove lay buried deep in his rugged heart. She would never know of it. Noone should ever know--not even Collie. 

Louise, in an ecstasy of affection and pity that she could notunderstand, suddenly flung her arms around Overland's neck and kissedhim full on the lips. 

More than he had ever dared to dream had come true. 

THE END

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