[Transcriber's note: Extensive research found no evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. ]

[Illustration: Dust cover art]

VALLEY

OF

WILD HORSES

By

ZANE GREY

GROSSET & DUNLAP -- Publishers

NEW YORK

COPYRIGHT, 1927, BY CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY. PRINTED IN THE UNITEDSTATES OF AMERICA. ALL RIGHTS IN THIS BOOK ARE RESERVED. IT MAY NOTBE USED FOR DRAMATIC, MOTION- OR TALKING-PICTURE PURPOSES WITHOUTWRITTEN AUTHORIZATION FROM THE HOLDER OF THESE RIGHTS. NOR MAY THEBOOK OR PART THEREOF BE REPRODUCED IN ANY MANNER WHATSOEVER WITHOUTPERMISSION IN WRITING EXCEPT IN THE CASE OF BRIEF QUOTATIONS EMBODIEDIN CRITICAL ARTICLES AND REVIEWS. FOR INFORMATION ADDRESS: HARPER &BROTHERS, 49 EAST 33RD STREET, NEW YORK 16, N. Y. 

BY ARRANGEMENT WITH HARPER & BROTHERS

 Western Novels by

 ZANE GREY

 Desert Gold Sunset Pass Forlorn River To the Last Man Majesty's Rancho Riders of the Purple Sage The Vanishing American Nevada Wilderness Trek Code of the West The Thundering Herd Fighting Caravans 30, 000 on the Hoof The Hash Knife Outfit Thunder Mountain The Heritage of the Desert Under the Tonto Rim Knights of the Range Western Union The Lost Wagon Train Shadow on the Trail The Mysterious Rider Twin Sombreros The Rainbow Trail Arizona Ames Riders of Spanish Peaks The Border Legion The Desert of Wheat Stairs of Sand The Drift Fence Wanderer of the Wasteland The Light of Western Stars The U. P. Trail The Lone Star Ranger Robber's Roost The Man of the Forest The Call of the Canyon West of the Pecos The Shepherd of Guadaloupe The Trail Driver Wildfire Wild Horse Mesa

 ZANE GREY BOOKS FOR BOYS

 Tappan's Burro Ken Ward in the Jungle The Young Pitcher The Young Lion Hunter Roping Lions in the Grand Canyon The Last of the Plainsmen The Shortstop The Young Forester

VALLEY OF WILD HORSES

CHAPTER ONE

The Panhandle was a lonely purple range land, unfenced and wind swept. Bill Smith, cattleman, threw up a cabin and looked at the future withhopeful eyes. One day while plowing almost out of sight of his littlehome--which that morning he had left apprehensively owing to animpending event--he espied his wife Margaret coming along the edge ofthe plowed field. She had brought his lunch this day, despite hisorder to the contrary. Bill dropped the loop of his driving reins overthe plow handle and strode toward her. Presently she halted wearilyand sat down where the dark rich overturned earth met the line ofbleached grass. Bill meant to scold Margaret for bringing his lunch, but it developed she had brought him something more. A son!

This boy was born on the fragrant fresh soil, out on the open prairie, under the steely sun and the cool wind from off the Llano Estacado. Hecame into the world protesting against this primitive manner of hisbirth. Bill often related that the youngster arrived squalling andshowed that his lung capacity fitted his unusual size. Despite themother's protestations, Bill insisted on calling the lad Panhandle. 

Panhandle's first memory was of climbing into the big cupboard in thecabin, falling out upon his head and getting blood all over his whitedress. His next adventurous experience was that of chewing tobacco hefound in his father's coat. This made him very sick. His motherthought he was poisoned, and as Bill was away, she ran to the nearestneighbors for help. By the time she returned with the experiencedneighbor woman Panhandle had gotten rid of the tobacco and was bentupon further conquest. 

Another day Panhandle manifested a growing tendency towardself-assertion. He ran away from home. Owing to his short legs andscant breath he did not get very far down over the slope. His will andintention were tremendous. Did the dim desert call to the child? Hisparents had often seen him stand gazing into the purple distance. ButPanhandle on this runaway occasion fell asleep on the dry grassy bottomof an irrigation ditch. Bye and bye he was missed, and father andmother, and the farm hands ran hither and thither in wild search forhim. No one, however, found him. In the haste of the search some oneleft his work at the irrigation dam, and the water running down rudelyawoke the child out of his dreams. Wet and bedraggled, squalling atthe top of his lungs, Panhandle trudged back home to the relief of adistracted mother. 

"Doggone it, " ejaculated Bill to his neighbors. "That kid's goin' tobe just like me. I never could stay home. "

A year later Bill Smith sold his farm and moved farther west in Texas, where he took up a homestead, and divided his time between that andwork on a big irrigating canal which was being constructed. 

Panhandle now lived on a ranch and it was far lonelier than his firsthome, because his father was away so much of the time. At first thenearest neighbor was Panhandle's uncle, who lived two long prairiemiles away. His house was a black dot on the horizon, notunattainable, it seemed to Panhandle, but very far away. He would haverisked the distance, save for his mother, who was very timid in thiscountry so new to her. Panhandle would never forget how she wasfrightened at a crazy wanderer who happened to come along, and anothertime by some drunken Mexican laborers. 

Panhandle undoubtedly had an adventuring soul. One day he discoveredthat a skunk had dug a hole under the front porch and had given birthto her kittens there. Panhandle was not afraid of them, and neitherhurt nor frightened them. After a time he made playmates of them, andwas one day hugely enjoying himself with them when his mother foundhim. She was frightened, enraged and horrified all at once. Sheentreated Panhandle to let the dirty little skunks alone. Panhandlewould promise and then forget. His mother punished him, all to noavail. Then she adopted harsher measures. 

Homesteaders had located near by and Mrs. Smith called on them, in thehope that she could hire a cowboy or ranch hand to come over anddestroy the skunks. It chanced there was no one but a Mrs. Hardman andher only boy. His name was Dick. He was seven years old, large forhis age, a bold handsome lad with red hair. Mrs. Smith made a bargainwith Dick, and led him back with her. 

Here Panhandle took violent exception to having his pets killed orrouted out by this boy he had never before seen. He did not like hislooks anyway. But Dick paid little heed to Panhandle, except once whenMrs. Smith went into the house, and then he knocked Panhandle down. For once Panhandle did not squall. He got up, round eyed, pale, withhis hands clenched. He never said a word. Something was born in thedepths of his gentle soul then. 

Dick tore a hole in the little wall of rocks that supported the porch, and with a lighted torch on a stick he wormed his way in to rout outthe skunks. 

Panhandle suddenly was thrilled and frightened by a bellowing fromDick. The boy came hurriedly backing out of the hole. He fetched anodor with him that nearly suffocated Panhandle, so strange and raw andterrible was it. Dick's eyes were shut. For the time being he hadbeen blinded. He bounced around like a chicken with its head cut off, bawling wildly. 

What had happened Panhandle did not know, but it certainly suited him. "Goody! Goody!" he shouted, holding his nose, and edging away from thelad. 

Then Panhandle saw smoke issuing from the hole under the porch. Themother skunk and her kittens scampered out into the weeds. He heardthe crackle of flames. That boy had dropped his torch under the porch. Screaming, Panhandle ran to alarm his mother. But it was too late. There were no men near at hand, so nothing could be done. Panhandlestood crying beside his mother, watching their little home burn to theground. Somehow in his mind the boy, Dick, had been to blame. Panhandle peered round to find him, but he was gone. Never wouldPanhandle forget that boy. 

They walked to the uncle's house and spent the night there. Soonanother home was under construction on the same site. It was more of ashack than a house, for building materials were scarce, and the nearapproach of winter made hasty construction imperative. Winter camesoon, and Panhandle and his mother were alone. It was cold and theyhuddled over the little wood fire. They had plenty to eat, but werevery uncomfortable in the one-room shack. Bill Smith came home butseldom. That fall the valley had been overrun with homesteaders, "nesters, " they were called, and these newcomers passed by often fromthe town drunk and rough. 

Panhandle used to lie awake a good deal. During these lonely hours themoan of the prairie wind, the mourn of wolves and yelp of coyotesbecame part of his existence. He understood why his mother barred andblocked the one door, placed the ax by the bed and the gun under herpillow. Even then he longed for the time when he would be old and bigenough to protect her. 

The lonely winter, with its innumerable hours of solitude for Mrs. Smith and the boy, had incalculable influence upon his character. Shetaught him much, ways and things, words and feelings that became anintegral part of his life. 

At last the long winter ended. With spring came the gales of windwhich, though no longer cold, were terrible in their violence. Many anight Panhandle lay awake, shrinking beside his mother, fearing theshack would blow away over their heads. Many a day the sun wasobscured, and nothing could be cooked, no work done while the duststorm raged. 

As spring advanced, with a lessening of the tornadoes, a new andfascinating game came into Panhandle's life. It was to sit at the onelittle window and watch the cowboys ride by. How he came to worshipthem! They were on their way to the spring roundups. His father hadtold him all about them. Panhandle would strain his eyes to get afirst glimpse of them, to count the shaggy prancing horses, the lithesupple riders with their great sombreros, their bright scarfs, guns andchaps, and boots and spurs. Their lassos! How they fascinatedPanhandle! Ropes to whirl and throw at a running steer! That was agame he resolved to play when he grew up. And his mother, discoveringhis interest, made him a little reata and taught him how to throw it, how to make loops and knots. She told him how her people had ownedhorses, thrown lassos, run cattle. 

Panhandle was always watching for the cowboys. When they passed by hewould run to the other side of the shack where there was a knotholestuffed with a rag, and through this he would peep until he was blindedby dust. These were full days for the lad, rousing in him wonder andawe, eagerness and fear--strange longings for he knew not what. 

Then one day his father brought home a black pony with three white feetand a white spot on his face. Panhandle was in rapture. For him! Hecould have burst for very joy, but he could not speak. It developedthat his mother would not let him ride the pony except when she led it. This roused as great a grief as possession was joy. A beautiful littlepony he could not ride! Ideas formed in his mind, scintillated andgrew into dark purpose. 

One day he stole Curly, and led him out of sight behind the barn, andmounting him rode down to the spring. Panhandle found himself alone. He was free. He was on the back of a horse. Mighty and incalculablefact!

Curly felt the spirit of that occasion. After drinking at the springhe broke into a lope. Panhandle stuck on somehow and turned the ponytoward the house. Curly loped faster. Panhandle felt the wind in hishair. He bounced up and down. Squealing with delight he twisted hishands in the flowing mane and held on. At the top of the hill his joybecame divided by fear. Curly kept on loping down the hill toward thehouse. Faster and faster! Panhandle bounced higher and higher, up onhis neck, back on his haunches, until suddenly his hold broke and hewas thrown. Down he went with a thud. It jarred him so he couldhardly get up, and he reeled dizzily. There stood his mother, white offace, reproachful of eye. "Oh mama--I ain't hurt!" he cried. 

Bill Smith was approached about this and listened, stroking his leanchin, while the mother eloquently enlarged upon the lad's guilt. 

"Wal, wife, let the boy ride, " he replied. "He's a nervy kid. I namedhim well. He'll make a great cowboy. Panhandle Smith. Pan, forshort!"

Pan heard that and his heart beat high. How he loved his dad then!"Cowboy" meant one of the great riders of the range. He would be one. Thereafter he lived on the back of Curly. He learned to ride, to stickon like a burr, to keep his seat on the bare back of the pony, to movewith him as he moved. One day Pan was riding home from his uncle's, and coming to a level stretch of ground he urged Curly to his topmostspeed. The wind stung him, the motion exhilarated him, controlling thepony awoke and fixed some strange feeling in him. He was a cowboy. Suddenly Curly put a speeding foot into a prairie-dog hole. Somethinghappened. Pan felt himself jerked loose and shot through the air. Hestruck the ground and all went black. When he came to, he found he hadplowed the soft earth with his face, skinned nose and chin, but was notbadly hurt. That was his first great spill. It sobered him. Curlywaited for him a little way farther on and he was lame. Pan knew hecould not hide the evidences of his rashness, so he decided to tell thetruth. 

Pan encountered his father at the barn. 

"Say, you bloody cowpuncher, " demanded his parent, "did he pitch withyou?"

"No, Dad, " replied Pan, with effort. "I runned him fast. "

"Ah--huh, so I see, " went on the father; and after a searching lookover the boy he fell to examining the pony. 

Pan emboldened by what his father had called him went straight to hismother. She screamed at sight of him, and that struck Pan to theheart. "Aw, mama, it ain't nuthin'. I'm just a bloody cowpuncher. "

Pan was not quite six years old when he rode to his first roundup, which occurred that summer early in June. His glory in the experiencewas marred by shame because he had to appear before all these cowboyswithout a saddle on his horse. He had feared just exactly whathappened. 

"Wal, heah comes the Ridin' Kid from Loco Range, " said one, edging nearto Pan, with a smile on his shining red face. 

"Sonny, yo're forkin' a grand hoss, but you forgot to saddle him, "remarked another, with a twinkle of gray eyes. 

"Fellars, this heah is Panhandle Smith, kid of the homesteader, over bythe river. I heerd Pan's a trick bareback rider. "

These genial fiery young men, lithe and tall and round limbed, breathing the life and spirit of the range, crowded round Pan, provingthat there never was a cowboy who did not like youngsters. 

"Say kid, I'll swap saddles with you, " spoke up the one who had firstaddressed him. 

Pan's heart was palpitating. How could they know how beautiful andwonderful they looked to him? If it had not been that he was ridingCurly bareback! They were making fun of him. Tears were not far fromhis eyes. 

"Young fellar, I'll bet this nag of yourn can't run fast enough toketch cold, " spoke up another. 

"I'll bet he kin, " added a third. 

"Pan, do this to them, " put in the cowboy who appeared to know him, andsuiting act to word he placed his thumb to his nose and twiddled hisfinger. "Do that, Pan. That'll shore shut them up. "

Pan found himself impelled to do as he was bidden, which action raiseda howl of mirth from the cowboys. 

And so at that early age Panhandle Smith was initiated into thehilarity and trickery and spirit common to these carefree riders of theranges. 

When the roundup began he found that he was far from forgotten. 

"Come on, Pan, " shouted one. "Ride in heah an' help me. .. . Turn 'emback, kid. "

Pan rode like the wind, breathless and radiant, beside himself withbliss. 

Then another rider would yell to him: "Charge him, cowboy. Fetch himback. "

And Pan, scarcely knowing what he was doing, saw with wild eyes how theyearling or calf would seem to be driven by him. There was always acowboy near him, riding fast, yet close, yelling to him, making him apart of the roundup. 

At the noon hour an older man, no doubt the rancher who owned thecattle, called off the work. A lusty voice from somewhere yelled:"Come an' git it!"

The rancher, espying Pan, rode over to him and said: "Stranger, did youfetch your chuck with you?"

"No--sir, " faltered Pan. "My mama--said for me to hurry back. "

"Wal, you stay an' eat with me, " replied the man, kindly. "Shore themvarmints might stampede an' we'd need you powerful bad. "

Pan sat next this big black-eyed man, in the circle of hungry cowboys. They made no more fun of Pan. He was one of them. Hard indeed was itfor him to sit cross-legged, after the fashion of cowboys, with asteady plate upon his knees. But he had no trouble disposing of thejuicy beefsteak and boiled potatoes and beans and hot biscuits thatTex, the boss, piled upon his plate. 

After dinner the cowboys resumed work. 

"Stand heah by the fire, kid, " said Tex. 

Then Pan saw a calf being dragged across the ground. A mounted cowboyheld the rope. 

"The brand!" he yelled. 

Pan stood there trembling while one of the flankers went down the tightrope to catch the bawling, leaping calf. Its eyes stood out, it foamedat the mouth. The flanker threw it over his leg on its back with feetsticking up. A brander with white iron leaped close. The calfbellowed. There was a sizzling of hair, a white smoke, the odor ofburned hide, all of which sickened Pan. 

Then one of the cowboys came to him: "Reckon thet's yore mammy come foryou. "

He lifted Pan up on Curly and led the pony away from the roundup, outin the open where Pan espied his mother, eager and anxious with her bigdark eyes strained. 

"Beg pardon, lady, " spoke up the cowboy, touching his sombrero. "It'sour fault yore boy stayed so long. We're sorry if you worried. Pleasedon't blame him. He's shore a game kid an' will make a grand cowboysome day. "

CHAPTER TWO

So this was how Panhandle Smith, at the mature age of five, receivedthe stimulus that set the current of his life in one strong channel. He called himself "Tex. " If his mother forgot to use this thrillingname he was offended. He adopted Tex's way of walking, riding, talking. And all the hours of daylight, outdoors or indoors, he playedroundup. Stones, chips, nails--anything served for cattle--and he hada special wooden image of himself and horse. Much of this time hespent on the back of Curly, in the corral or the field, rounding up animaginary herd. At night his dreams were full of cowboys, chuckwagons, pitching horses and bawling steers. 

Every new sight of a snaky slim cowpuncher on a racy horse intensifiedthis impression in Pan's mind, stamped the future more vividly on hisheart. It was what he had been born to. 

One by one pioneers came in their covered wagons to this promisingrange and took up homesteads of one hundred and sixty acres each. Someof these men, like Pan's father, had to work part of the time away fromhome, to earn much-needed money. 

Jim Blake, the latest of these incoming settlers, had chosen a sitedown in a deep swale that Pan always crossed when he went to visit hisuncle. It was a pretty place, with grass and cottonwoods, and a thinstream of water, a lonesome and hidden spot which other homesteadershad passed by. 

Pan met Jim one day and rode with him. He was a young man, pleasantand jolly, a farmer and would-be rancher, without any of the signs ofcowboy about him. Pan thought this a great detriment, but he managedto like Jim and loftily acquainted him with his achievements on Curly. 

One day Pan saw Jim's wife, a pretty blonde girl, strong and healthyand rosy cheeked. Her sleeves were rolled up showing round bare arms. Her smile won Pan, yet he was too shy to go in and take the cookies sheoffered. 

Autumn days came, dull and gray, with cold wind sweeping the plain, andthreatening clouds lodging against the mountain peaks. Another winterwas coming. Pan hated the thought. Snow, ice, piercing winds wouldprevent him from riding Curly. With this fact pressing closer he rodeas much as his mother would let him and some more besides. 

His father and mother wanted him to go with them to the settlement oneSaturday. They were taking the wagon in for winter supplies. Pan'syearning for adventure almost persuaded him, but he preferred to staywith Curly. His mother demurred, but his father said he might remainat home. 

"Pan, you can ride over to Uncle George's with some things. But becareful not to get caught in a storm. "

Thus it came about that Pan found himself alone for the first time inhis life, master of himself, free to act as he chose. And he did notchoose to go at once to Uncle George's. His uncle was nice, but didnot accord Pan the freedom that he craved. So what with one andanother of his important cowboy tasks the hours flew and it was latebefore he got started across the prairie toward his uncle's homestead. 

Pan never needed an excuse to ride fast, but now he had one thatjustified him. The two miles would not take long. He would have tohurry back, for indeed it looked as if a storm were sweeping down fromthe black peaks. Pan realized that he should have gotten his erranddone earlier in the day. 

The cold wind stung his face and made his eyes water. Curly loped athis easy swift stride over the well-trodden trail. The bleached grasswaved, the tumbleweeds rolled along the brown ground. There was nosun. All the west was draped in drab clouds. Soon Pan was riding downinto the swale where Blake lived. The cottonwoods were almost bare. Only a few yellow leaves clung to the branches, and every moment a leaffluttered down. Here in this swale Pan caught the autumn smells, dankand woody. 

Once across the swale he put his pony to a gallop and soon reachedUncle George's homestead. No one at home! The horse and wagon weregone. Pan left his package and turned back. As he trotted past theBlake gate Pan heard a faint call. It startled him. Reining in Curlyhe listened and looked. Blake's cabin stood back out of sight amongthe Cottonwoods. The barn, however, with its low open-sided shed, stood just inside the gate. The cows had been brought in for milking. A lusty calf was trying to steal milk from its mother. Chickens weregoing to roost. Pan did not believe that any of these had made thecall. He was about to ride on by when suddenly he again caught astrange cry that appeared to come from the barn or shed. It excitedrather than frightened him. Sliding off Curly he pushed open the bigboard gate and ran in. 

Under the open shed he found Mrs. Blake lying on some hay whichevidently she had just pulled down from the loft. When she saw Pan herpale convulsed face changed somehow. "Oh--thank God!" she cried. 

"Are you hurted?" asked Pan in hurried sympathy. "Did you fall out ofthe haymow?"

"No, but I'm in terrible pain. "

"Aw--you're sick?"

"Yes. And I'm alone. Will you please--go for your mother?"

"Mama an' Daddy went to town, " replied Pan in distress. "An' nobody'shome at Uncle George's. "

"Then you must be a brave little man and help me. "

Bill Smith hurrying homeward with his wife and Jim Blake were belatedby the storm. It was midnight when they arrived at Bill's house. Theyfound Curly with bridle hanging, standing in the snow beside the barn. Mrs. Smith was distracted. Bill and Jim, though worried, did not fearthe worst. But with lanterns they set out upon the tracks Curly hadleft in the snow. Bill's wife would not remain behind. 

Soon they arrived at Blake's homestead, though the pony tracks becamedifficult to follow and found Pan wide awake, huddled beside the cow, true to the trust that had been given him. Mrs. Blake was not in badcondition, considering the circumstances, nor was the baby. It was agirl, whom Jim named Lucy right then and there, after his wife. 

The men carried the mother and her babe up to the house, while Mrs. Smith followed with the now sleepy Pan. They built fires in the opengrate, and in the kitchen stove, and left Mrs. Smith to attend to themother. Both women heard the men talking. But Pan never heard, for hehad been put to bed in a corner, rolled in blankets. 

"Doggone my hide!" exclaimed Bill. "Never seen the beat of that kid ofmine!"

"Mebbe Pan saved both their lives, God bless him, " replied Blake withemotion. 

"_Quien sabe_? It might be. .. . Wal, strange things happen. Jim, thatkid of mine was born right out on the plowed field. An' here comesyour kid--born in the cowshed on the hay!"

"It is strange, " mused Blake, "though we ought to look for suchhappenin's out in this great west. "

"Wal, Pan an' Lucy couldn't have a better birthright. It ought tosettle them two kids for life. "

"You mean grow up an' marry some day? Now that would be fine. Shakeon it, Bill. "

Pan asleep in the corner of the other room and Lucy wailing at hermother's breast were pledged to each other by their fathers. 

The winter passed for Pan much as had the preceding one, except that hehad more comfort to play his everlasting game of roundup. 

"When will Lucy be big enough to play with me?" he often asked. Thestrange little baby girl had never passed from his mind, though he hadnever seen her. She seemed to form the third link in his memory of theforging of his life. Curly--the cowboys--and Lucy! He did not knowhow to reconcile her with the other two. But those three events stoodout above the blur of the past. 

At last the snow melted, the prairie took on a sheen of green, the treeburst into bud, and birds returned to sing once more. All of this wasbeautiful, but insignificant beside Curly. He was fatter and friskierthan ever. 

Pan's father came home once or twice a month that spring, alwaysarriving late and leaving at an early hour. How Pan longed for hisfather's coming!

Then there came the fourth epoch in Pan's life. His father brought hima saddle. It was far from new, of Mexican make, covered with rawhide, and had an enormous shiny horn. Pan loved it almost as much as heloved Curly; and when it was not on the pony it adorned the fence or achair, always with Pan astride it, acting like Tex. 

The fifth, and surely the greatest event in Pan's rapidly developingcareer, though he did not know it then, was when his mother took himover to see his baby, Lucy Blake. It appeared that the parents in bothhomesteads playfully called her "Pan's baby. " That did not displeasePan, but it made him singularly shy. So it was long before his mothercould get him to make the acquaintance of his protégée. 

Pan's first sight of Lucy was when she crawled over the floor to get tohim. How vastly different she really was from the picture he recalledof a moving bundle wrapped in a towel! She was quite big and verywonderful. She was dressed in a little white dress. Her feet and legswere chubby. She had tiny pink hands. Her face was like a wild rosedotted with two violets for eyes. And her hair was spun gold. Marvelous as were all these things they were as nothing to the light ofher smile. Pan's shyness vanished, and he sat on the floor to playwith her. He produced little chips and pebbles, and stones, with whichhe played roundup. Lucy grew most gratifyingly interested in Pan'sgame, but she made it hard for him to play it, and also embarrassing, by clinging with most tenacious and unshakable grip to his finger. 

Every Sunday that summer the Smiths visited at the homestead of theBlakes. They became fast friends. Bill and Jim discussed the cattlebusiness. The mothers sewed and talked hopefully of the future. Pannever missed one of these Sunday visits, and the time came when he rodeover on his own account. Lucy was the most satisfactory cowgirl in allthe world. She did not object to his being Tex. She tried her best tocall him Tex. And she crawled after him and toddled after him withunfailing worship. The grown folks looked on and smiled. 

Meanwhile the weeks and months passed, the number of homesteadersincreased, more and more cattle dotted the range. When winter camesome of the homesteaders, including Pan and his mother, moved intoLittleton to send their children to school. 

Pan's first teacher was Emma Jones. He liked her immediately which waswhen she called to take him to school. Pan was not used to strangers. The men in the streets, the grown boys all bothered him. Cowboys werescarce, and that was a great disappointment to Pan. It loweredLittleton in his estimation. 

It developed that Pan was left handed. Now Miss Jones considered itwrong for anyone to write with his left hand so she tied Pan's fast tothe desk, and made him practice letters with his right. What a drearyunprofitable time Pan had of it! So many little boys and girlsconfused him, though he was not backward in making acquaintance. Buthe wanted Curly and the prairie. He would rather be with Lucy. Mostof all he wanted the cowboys. 

Dick Hardman came again into Pan's life, fatefully, inevitably, as ifthe future had settled something inscrutable and sinister, andchildhood days, school days, days of youth and manhood had beeninextricably planned before they were born. Dick was in a higher gradeand made the fact known to Pan. He had grown into a large boy, handsomer, bolder, with a mop of red hair that shone like a flame. Hecalled Pan "the little skunk tamer, " and incited other boys toridicule. So the buried resentment in Pan's depths smoldered and burstinto blaze again, and found fuel to burn it into hate. He told hismother what Dick had got the boys to call him. Then he was indeedsurprised to see his sweet soft-eyed mother give way to quick-flashingpassion. Somehow this leap of her temper strengthened Pan in hisresentment. He had her blood, her fire, her pride, though he was onlya child. 

Then the endless school days were over for a while. Summer had come. Pan moved back to the beloved homestead, to the open ranges, to Curlyand Lucy. Only she had changed. She could stand at his knee and callhim Tex. He resumed his old games with her, and in time graduated herto a seat on the back of Curly. If she had not already unconsciouslyfilled his heart that picture of her laughing and unafraid would havedone so. 

Another uncle had moved into the country to take up a homestead. Pannow had a second place to ride to, farther away, over a wilder bit ofrange, and much to his liking. He saw cowboys every time he rode there. 

One day while Pan was at this new uncle's, a dreadful thinghappened--his first real tragedy. Some cowboy left the slide door ofthe granary open. Curly got in there at the wheat. Before it becameknown he ate enormously and then drank copiously. It foundered him. It killed him. 

When Pan came out of his stupefaction to realize his actual loss he washeartbroken. He could not be consoled. Hours he spent crying over hissaddle. Not for a long time did he go to see little Lucy. His fathercould not afford to buy him another horse then and indeed it was a longtime before he did get one. 

Days and weeks passed, and fall came, then winter with more school, tedious and wearing, and again spring and summer. Cowboys wereplentiful now in the growing range, but Pan avoided them, ashamed andsick because he could not approach them without Curly. He never gotover grieving for his pony, though he reached a stage where any horsewould have freed him from his melancholy. He played alone, or withLucy. She was the one bright spot in all that gray prairie. Lucy wasgrowing fast now; her golden curly head seemed to spring up at him. 

That autumn the homesteaders erected a schoolhouse of their own. Itwas scarcely three miles from Pan's home. 

"Pan, can you walk it?" asked Bill Smith with his keen eye on the lad. "Yes Daddy--but--but, " replied Pan, unable to finish with the thoughtso dear to his heart. 

"Ah--huh. An' before long Lucy will be old enough to go too, " addedhis father. "Reckon you'll take her?"

"Yes, Daddy. " And for Pan there was real gladness in that promise. 

"Wal, you're a good boy, " declared the father. "An' you won't have towalk to school. I've traded for two horses for you. "

"_Two_!" screamed Pan, wild with joy. "Oh! Oh! Oh!"

In due time the new horses arrived at the Smith homestead. Their nameswere Pelter and Pilldarlick. Pelter was a pinto, snappy and pretty, though he had a wicked eye. Pilldarlick was not showy, but he wassmall and strong, easy gaited and gentle. Pan thought he was going tolike Pelter best, although Pilldarlick was surely a cowboy name andtherefore all satisfying. It turned out, however, that Pan could notride Pelter. He was locoed. He bucked Pan off every time. Pilldarlick was really much better than he looked, and soon filled thevoid in Pan's heart. 

The first time he rode Pilldarlick to the new school marked anotherred-letter day in the life of Panhandle Smith, cowboy. There were manyboys and a few girls who had come to attend the school, only a few ofwhom had horses to ride. Pan was the proud cynosure of all eyes as herode Pilldarlick round the yard for the edification of his schoolmates. It was the happiest day of Pan's life--up until Dick Hardman arrived ona spirited little black mustang. 

"Hey, where'd you git that nag?" yelled Dick, when he sighted Pan. "An' say, your saddle ain't nothin' but rawhide on a stump. "

"You're a liar!" shouted Pan, fiercely tumbling off Pilldarlick. 

The red-headed lad pitched out of his saddle and made for Pan. Theybegan to fight. Instinct was Pan's guide. He hit and scratched andkicked. But Dick being the larger began to get the better of thebattle, and soon was beating Pan badly when the new teacher came out tohis rescue. 

"Stop it, " she ordered, separating the belligerents. "Only cats anddogs fight. "

"So--do--cowboys!" panted Pan. 

"Not nice ones. Only bad cowboys, " she replied, leading Pan away. 

"I'll lick you next time, " yelled Dick, evilly. "You stuck-up littlesnot!"

CHAPTER THREE

Miss Amanda Hill, the teacher, rang the bell, calling all her scholarsin, and school began once more. 

Dick Hardman sat across the room from Pan and behind the teacher's backhe made ugly faces at Pan and, more than that, put his nose to histhumb. Pan understood that, and quick as a flash, he returned thecompliment. 

Recess came. Before half the scholars were out of the room Dick andPan had run to the barn, out of the teacher's sight, and here they fellupon each other like wildcats. It did not take Dick long to give Panthe first real beating of his life. Cut lip, bloody nose, black eye, dirty face, torn blouse--these things betrayed Pan at least to MissHill. She kept him in after school, and instead of scolding she talkedsweetly and kindly. Pan came out of his sullenness, and felt love forher rouse in him. But somehow he could not promise not to fight again. 

"S'pose Dick Hardman does that all over again!" expostulated Pan indespair. He did not realize what he felt. He wanted to please andobey this sweet little woman, but there was a revolt in him. "What'llmy--my daddy--say when he hears I got licked!" he sobbed. 

She compromised finally by accepting Pan's willing promise not to picka fight with Dick. 

Despite the unpleasant proximity of Dick Hardman, that winter at schoolpromised to be happy and helpful to Pan. There were three large boys, already cowboys, who attended Miss Hill's school. Pan gravitated atonce to them, and to his great satisfaction they accepted him. 

Later his old cowboy friend of the roundup arrived on the range with atrail herd of cattle from Texas. Their brand was an O X, a new one toPan. He kept a record of all the brands he had seen, and practiceddrawing them on paper. Moore and three of his cowboys came to board atPan's home, and kept their string of horses there. Pan's cup was full. The days flew by. Snow and cold were nothing to him. Not even study, and the ever-malicious Dick Hardman could daunt his spirit. Mooremeant to winter his herd there, and wait for spring before he drove itfarther north. 

The cowboys' nickname for Moore was Pug, and another fellow whose realname Pan never heard was called Slats. They taught Pan all the cowboysongs from "Ti yi oop oop ya ya" to "Bury me on the Lone Prairie. "Every night Pan listened to them sing by the fire in their bunkhouse, and many times he had to be called to do his chores. 

Another of the cowboys was called Hookey. His nose resembled that of aparrot and he had the disposition of a locoed coyote, according to Pugand Slats. Hookey took a dislike to Pan, and always sought to arousethe boy's temper. These cowboys were always gone in the morning beforePan got up, but by the time he arrived home from school on Pilldarlickthey were usually there. 

Slats, who wanted to be a lady killer, would say: "Wal, Button, whatdid your school marm say about me today?" And Hookey would make fun ofPilldarlick, which ridicule had more power to hurt Pan than anythingelse. One day Pan gave way to fury, and with flying rocks he chasedHookey into the cellar, and every time Hookey poked up his head Panwould fling a stone with menacing accuracy. That time his mother cameto the rescue of the cowboy. After that Hookey bought a new saddle andgave Pan his old one. That settled hostilities. Pan had a change ofheart. No matter how Hookey teased or tormented him he could neveragain make him angry. Pan saw Hookey with different eyes. 

He was unutterably happy now with a horse and saddle too, and wentabout singing: "My trade is cinchin' saddles an' pullin' bridle reins. "

One day two strange men arrived at the Smith homestead. They had stillhard faces, intent gray eyes; they packed guns, and one of them wore abright star on his vest. These men took Hookey away with them. Andafter they were gone the cowboys told Pan that Hookey was wanted forhorse stealing. Young as Pan was he understood the enormity of thatcrime in the eyes of cowboys. He felt terribly hurt and betrayed. Long indeed was it before he forgot Hookey. 

Swiftly that winter passed. Pan had a happy growing time of it. Studyhad not seemed so irksome, perhaps owing to the fact that he had ahorse and saddle; he could ride to and fro; he often stopped to seeLucy who was now big enough to want to go to school herself; and theteacher had won his love. Pan kept out of fights with Dick Hardmanuntil one recess when Dick called him "teacher's pet. " That inflamedPan, as much because of the truth of it as the shame. So this time, though he had hardly picked a fight, he was the first to strike. Withsurprising suddenness he hit the big Dick square on the nose. WhenDick got up howling and swearing, his face was hideous with dirt andblood. Then began a battle that dwarfed the one in the barn. Pan hadgrown considerably. He was quick and strong, and when once hismother's fighting blood burned in him he was as fierce as a youngsavage. But again Dick whipped him. 

Miss Hill, grieved and sorrowful, sent Pan home with a note. Itchanced that both his father and mother were at home when he arrived. They stood aghast at his appearance. 

"You dirty ragged bloody boy!" cried his mother, horrified. 

"Huh! You oughta see Dick Hardman!" ejaculated Pan. 

The lad thought he had ruined himself forever with Miss Amanda Hill. But to his amaze and joy he had not. Next day she kept him in afterschool, cried over him, kissed him, talked long and earnestly. Allthat Pan remembered was: "Something terrible will come of your hate forDick Hardman if you don't root it out of your heart. "

"Teacher--why don't you--talk to Dick this way?" faltered Pan, alwayswon by her tenderness. 

"Because Dick is a different kind of a boy, " she replied, but neverexplained what she meant. 

At Christmas time the parents of the school children gave a party atthe schoolhouse. Every one on the range for miles around was there. Pan for once had his fill of seeing cowboys. Miss Amanda was anattraction no cowboys could resist. That night Pan spoke his firstpiece entitled: "Sugar-tooth Dick for sweeties was sick. "

To Pan it seemed a silly piece, but he spoke it to please Miss Amanda, and because it was a hit at Dick Hardman. To his surprise he receiveda roar of applause. After the supper, dancing began. Some of thecowboys got drunk. There were fights, two of which Pan saw, to histhrilling fear and awe. It was long past midnight when he yielded tothe intense drowsiness that overcame him. When he awoke at dawn theywere still dancing. 

Winter passed. Spring came with roundups too numerous for Pan to keeptrack of. And a swift happy summer sped by. 

That fall a third uncle settled in the valley. He was an older brotherof Pan's father, whom they called Old Uncle Ike. He was a queer oldbachelor, lived alone, and did not invite friendliness. Pan was toldto stay away from him. Old Uncle Ike was crabby and hard; when a boy, his heart had been broken by an unfaithful sweetheart; he had shot herlover and run away to war. After serving through the Civil War hefought Indians, and had lived an otherwise wild life. 

But Pan was only the keener to see and know Old Uncle Ike. He wentboldly to make his acquaintance. He found a sad-faced, gray old man, sitting alone. 

Pan said bravely: "Uncle, I'm Pan Smith, your brother Bill's boy, an'I've come to see you because I'm sure I'll like you. "

He did not find the old man unfriendly. Pan was welcome, and soon theybecame fast friends. Every Saturday Pan rode over to Uncle Ike'splace, stealing some of the time he was supposed to be spending withLucy. The little girl pouted and cried and railed at Pan for such basedesertion, but he only laughed at her. Any time he wanted he couldhave Lucy. She grew sweeter and more lovable as she grew older, factsPan took to his heart, but he chose the old man's stories of war andIndians in preference to Lucy's society. 

Months passed, and Pan grew tall and supple, with promise of developingthe true horseman's build. Then the spring when he was twelve yearsold arrived and his father consented to let him ride for wages at theroundup. 

He joined a big outfit. There were over fifty cowboys, two bed wagons, two chuck wagons, and strings of horses too numerous to count. A newhorse to ride twice a day! This work was as near paradise as Pan felthe had ever been. But for one circumstance, it would have beenabsolutely perfect, and that was that he had no boots. A fast-ridingcowboy without boots!

In the heat of action, amid the whirling loop of bawling calves andcows, when the dry dust rose to stop up Pan's nostrils and cake on hishot sweaty face, when the ropes were whistling, the cowboys yelling, the brand iron sizzling, all he felt was the wild delight of it, thethrill of the risk, the excitement, the constant stirring life andmotion. During leisure hours, however, he was always confronted withhis lack of rider's equipment. 

"Say, kid, who built them top boots of yourn?" asked one cowboy. 

"Shore, I'll trade spurs with you, " drawled another. 

"Whar's yore fur chaps there, cowboy?" queried a third. 

And so it went always and forever. The cowboys could not help that. It was born in them, born of the atmosphere and spirit of the singularlife they lived. Nevertheless Pan loved them, and they were good tohim. 

His best friends in this outfit were Si and Slick, both horsewranglers, whose real names Pan never learned. 

That roundup was prolific of wonderful experiences. One night when astorm threatened the foreman called to the cowboys not on duty; "Talkto 'em low, boys, fer they're gettin' ready. "

He meant that the herd of cattle was likely to stampede. And when thethunder and rain burst the herd broke away with a trampling roar. Pangot soaked to the skin and lost in the rain. When he returned to camponly the cook and wagons were there. Next morning the cowboysstraggled in in bunches, each driving part of the stampeded herd. 

At breakfast one morning Pan heard a yell. "Ride him, cowboy!"

"Whoopee! Look at that outlaw comin' high, wide an' handsome!"

Pan just had time to see a terribly pitching red horse come tearinginto the circle of cowboys. His rider went shooting over his head toalight among them. Then what a scattering! That red fiend spoiled thebreakfast and cleaned out the camp. How the cowboys reviled the poorfellow who had been thrown!

"Huh! Broke yore collar bone?" yelled one. "Why you dod-blasted sonof a sea cook, he oughta hev broke yore neck!"

And Si, the horse wrangler said: "Charlie, I reckon it's onconsiderateof you to exercise yore pet hoss on our stummicks. "

One of the amazing things that happened during the winter was theelopement of Miss Amanda Hill with a cowboy. Pan did not like thisfellow very well, but the incident heightened his already magnificentopinion of cowboys. 

Pan never forgot Lucy's first day of school when he rode over with hersitting astride behind him, "ringin' his neck, " as a cowboy remarked. Pan had not particularly been aware of that part of the performance forhe was used to having Lucy cling to him. That embarrassed him. Hedropped her off rather unceremoniously at the door, and went to put hishorse in the corral. She was little and he was big, which fact furtherbore upon his consciousness, through the giggles of the girls and gibesof the boys. But they did not make any change in his attitude towardLucy. All winter he took her to and from school on his horse. Thesummer following, he worked for his Uncle Ike. 

As Pan grew older time seemed so much shorter than when he was little. There was so much to do. And all at once he was fifteen years old. His mother gave him a party on that birthday, which was marked on hismemory by the attention his boy friends paid to Lucy. She was by farthe prettiest girl in the valley. He did not know exactly what to makeof his resentment, nor of the queer attitude of proprietorship he hadassumed over her. 

He was destined to learn more about his state of mind. It happened thenext day at school during the noon hour. That late November, a spellof Indian summer weather had lingered, and the pupils ate their lunchesout under the trees. 

Suddenly Lucy came running up to Pan, who as usual was having a carefor his horse. Her golden hair was flying, disheveled. She wasweeping. Her big violet eyes streamed with tears. She was wiping herface with most expressive disgust. 

"Pan--you go right off--and thrash Dick Hardman, " she cried, passionately. 

"Lucy!--What's he done?" queried Pan, after a sudden sense of inwardshock. 

"He's always worrying me--when you're not around. I never told 'causeI knew you'd fight. .. . But now he's done it. He grabbed me and kissedme! Before all the boys!"

Pan looked steadily at her tear-wet face, seeing Lucy differently. Shewas not a baby any more. For some strange reason beyond hisunderstanding he was furious with her. Pushing her aside he strodetoward the group of boys, leering close by. 

Dick Hardman, a strapping big lad now, edged back into the crowd. Panviolently burst into it, forcing the boys back, until he confronted hisadversary. On Dick's sallow face the brown freckles stood outprominently. Something in the look and advance of Pan had intimidatedhim. But he blustered, he snarled. 

"You're a skunk, " said Pan fiercely, and struck out with all his might. 

One hour from that moment they were still fighting. They had foughtfrom the grove to the schoolyard, from there down the road and backagain. Bloody, ragged, black, they beat, tore, hit, bit and clawedeach other. The teacher, wringing her hands, called upon the otherboys to separate the belligerents. They had tried, but in vain, andonly got kicked for their pains. The girls, most of them, screamed andcried. But not Lucy! White faced and with dilated eyes she watchedthat struggle. All the spectators, even the youngest, seemed torecognize it as a different kind of a fight from any that had everoccurred before. At last the teacher sent some of the children forhelp from the nearest farmhouse. 

Dick would lower his head and lunge at Pan, trying to butt him in theabdomen. Twice he had bowled Pan over, to his distinct advantage. Butthe crafty Pan, timing another and last attack of this kind, swung uphis knee with terrific force, square into Dick's face. 

Down Dick plumped, rolled over on his back, yelling loudly. Suddenlyhe ceased, he raised up on one elbow, he spat blood, and something thatrattled on the gravel. A tooth! His grimy hand went trembling to hisblood-stained mouth. He felt of his front teeth. One was gone, otherswere loose. Vanity, Dick's distinguishing characteristic, suffered aterrible blow. Staggering to his feet, fetching a stone with him, heglared at Pan: "I'll--kill--you!"

He flung the stone with deadly intent. But Pan dodged it and leaped athim. Dick ran hard toward the schoolhouse, stooping to snatch upstones, and turning to fling them at Pan. The yelling boys scattered, the frightened girls fled. Pan was not to be outdone at any kind offight. He returned stone for stone, the last of which struck Dick lowdown in the leg. Like a crippled beast Dick shrieked and plunged intothe schoolhouse, slamming shut the door. But Pan, rushing after, grabbed up a rock and flung it so powerfully that it split the door andknocked it off the hinges. 

Pan rushed in to receive full in the face a long, thick teacher's rulerthrown by Dick. It knocked him flat. Picking it up Pan brandished itand charged his enemy. Dick ran along the blackboard, and jerking upone eraser after another he threw them. His aim was poor. Hisstrength waning. His courage had gone. As for Pan it was as if thelong fight had only inspired him to renewed ferocity and might. Thetruth was that a hot dancing fire in Pan's blood had burned to whiteintensity, unquenchable and devastating. 

Suddenly Dick made for the teacher's table. An idea, an inspirationshowed in his renewed speed. Pan divined its purpose. Leaping uponthe desks he endeavored to head Dick off. Too late! When Pan sprangoff the last desk to the platform Dick had turned--with the teacher'slong paper knife in his hand and baleful hate in his prominent eyes. 

Later, when the children outside dared to peep into the schoolroom theyneither saw nor heard anything of the fighters. But fearing they werejust hiding behind the benches, ready for a renewed fusillade, not oneof the pupils dared go in. The teacher had hurried down the road tomeet the men some of the boys had fetched. 

And these men were Jim Blake and Bill Smith who had been riding homefrom the range. When they entered the schoolroom with the teacherfearfully following, and only Lucy of all the scholars daring to cometoo, they found the fight was over. 

Dick lay unconscious on the floor with a bloody forehead. Pan satcrouched on the platform, haggard and sullen, with face, shirt, handsall bloody. 

"Ah-uh! Reckon you've been fightin' like a cowboy for shore thistime, " said Pan's father in his matter of fact way. "Stand up. Let'slook at you. .. . Jim, take a look at that lad on the floor. "

While Pan painfully endeavored to get up, Blake knelt beside Dick. 

"Bill, this heah rooster has had a wallop, " said Blake. 

"You little cowpunchin' ruffian, " exploded Smith angrily, reaching alarge arm for Pan. "Now then. .. . What the hell? . .. Boy, you've been_stabbed_!"

"Yes--Dad--he stuck me--with teacher's knife, " replied Pan faintly. Hetottered on his feet, and his right hand was pressed tight to his leftshoulder, high up, where the broken haft of the paper knife showedbetween his red-stained fingers. 

Bill Smith's anger vanished in alarm, and something stern and grim tookits place. Just then Lucy broke away from the teacher and confrontedhim. 

"Oh--please don't punish him, Mr. Smith, " she burst out poignantly. "It was all my fault. I--I stuck up my nose at Dick. He said thingsthat--that weren't nice. .. . I slapped him. Then he grabbed me, kissedme. .. . I ran to Pan--and--and told him. .. . Oh, that made Pan fight. "

Smith looked gravely down into the white little face with the distendedviolet eyes, slowly losing their passion. He seemed to be struck withsomething that he had never seen before. 

"Wal, Lucy, I'll not punish Pan, " he said, slowly. "I think more ofhim for fightin' for you. "

CHAPTER FOUR

They did not meet again during the winter. It was a hard winter. Panleft school and stayed close to home, working for his mother, andplaying less than any time before. 

"I heard Dick say he'd kill you someday, " said one cowboy seriously. "An' take it from me, kid, he's a bad hombre. "

"Ah-uh!" was all the reply Pan vouchsafed, as he walked away. He didnot like to be reminded of Dick. It sent an electric spark to thedeep-seated smoldering mine in his breast. 

When springtime came Pan joined the roundup in earnest, for part of thecattle and outfit now belonged to his father. Out on the range theforty riders waited for the wagons. There were five cowboys from BigSandy in Pan's bunch and several more arrived from the Crow Roostcountry. Old Dutch John, a famous range character, was driving thechuck wagon. At one time he had been a crony of Pan's father, and thatattracted Pan to the profane old grizzled cook. He could not talkwithout swearing and, if he replied to a question that needed only yesor no, he would supplement it with a string of oaths. 

Next day the outfit rode the west side of Dobe Creek, rounding upperhaps a thousand cattle. Pete Blaine and Hookey roped calves whilePan helped hold up. 

On the following day the riders circled Blue Lakes, where cattleswarmed. Old John had yelled to the boys: "Hey, punchers, heave atthem today. You gotta throw an awful mess of 'em heah. "

These two lakes were always dry, except during the spring; and now theywere full, with green grass blanketing the range as far as eye couldsee. By Monday long lines of cattle moved with flying dust down to thespot chosen for the roundup. As the herds closed in, the green rangeitself seemed to be moving. When thrown together all these cattleformed a sea of red and white, from which roared an incessant bawling. It looked impossible to separate cows and calves from the others. Butdozens of fearless cowboys, riding in here and in there, soon began tocut out the cows and calves. 

It was a spectacle that inspired Pan as never before. The wagons werelined up near the lake, their big white canvas tops shining in theafternoon sun, and higher on a bench stood the "hoodelum" or bed wagon, so stocked with bedrolls that it resembled a haystack. Beyond themargin of the lake, four hundred fine saddle horses grazed and kickedand bit at one another. Beyond the saddle horses grazed the day herdof cattle. And over on the other side dinned the melee over the mainherd, the incessant riding, yelling of the cowboys and the bawling ofthe cows. 

When all the cows and calves were cut out, a rider of each outfitowning cattle on that range would go through to claim those belongingto his brand. Next the herd of bulls and steers, old cows andyearlings, would be driven back out upon the range. 

Fires were started, and as there was no wood on that range, buffalochips were used instead. It took many cowboys to collect sufficientfor their needs. 

At sunset, when the branding of calves was finished, each cowboy caughta horse for night duty. Pan got one he called Old Paint. 

"Say, kid, " called one of the Crow Nest cowboys, "ain't you tyin' up apretty fancy hoss fer night work?"

"Oh, I guess not, " laughed Pan. 

"Come heah, Blowy, " called the cowboy to another. "See what I found. "

A long lanky red-faced rider detached himself from the others, andstrode with jingling spurs over to look at Pan's horse. 

"Wal, I'll go to hell, Ben Bolt, if it ain't ol' Calico!" heejaculated, in amaze and pleasure. "Kid, whar'd you ever git him?"

"Dad made a trade, " replied Pan. 

"Kid, look a heah. Don't ever tie that hoss to a stake pin. He's thebest cow hoss I ever slung a leg over. The puncher who broke him an'reached him all he knows was my pard, long ago. An' he's daid. Kid, he'd roll over in his grave if he knowed ol' Cal was tied to a picketpin. "

"Aw, is that so?" replied Pan. "Fact is, I don't know much about him. We called him Old Paint. Haven't forked him yet. Dad got him from alady last winter. She was trying to work him to a cart. But hebalked. She said she poured some hot water on. .. . "

"Lady, hell!" shouted the cowboy, growing redder of face. "She wasn'tno lady if she treated that grand hoss that way. .. . See heah, kid, I'll stake you to a good night hoss. Turn Ol' Cal loose, an' wheneveryou need to do some real fancy separatin' jest set your frusky on ol'Cal. Better tie to your stirrups if you're perticler aboot keepin'your seat, 'cause 'at ol' pony can sure git from under a cowhand. "

"All right, I'll turn Old Calico loose, " replied Pan. "And I'llremember what you said about him. "

Blowy pointed out one of his horses. "Kid, screw your wood to thetJasper, an' you'll never be walkin'. "

"Thanks, but I got lots of horses, " said Pan. 

"Aw go on--lots of horses. Why bunkie, I got more mean horses than Ican start to keep gentle. I just fetched thet one to stake my friends. "

Pan saddled up the horse indicated, and found him the best he had evermounted. That experience led to his acquaintance with Blowy. He was aceaseless talker, hence his name, but beloved by all the outfit. Panlearned something from every cowboy he met and it was not all for thebest. 

That roundup was Pan's real introduction to the raw range. When thetime came for the outfit to break up, with each unit taking its owncattle, the boss said to Pan, "Come ride fer me. "

Pan, flushed and pleased, mumbled his thanks, but he had to work forhis father. Then he and the boy with him, Joe Crawley, bade theircomrades good-by, especially loath to part with Old Dutch, and startedhome with their cows and calves. They crossed the old Indianbattlefield where Colonel Shivington gave the famous order to hissoldiers: "Kill 'em all. Nits make lice!"

Pan and Joe set out from there for Limestone Creek with their smallherd and extra horses. Pan wanted to bring Old Calico, but he haddrifted off to the range. 

"Heel flies are workin', kid, " said Joe, who was older and moreexperienced. "We're shore goin' to be on the mud fer the next month. "

There was something in the air, storm perhaps, or such conditions thathave strange effect upon beasts. Pan and Joe fought their cattle andhorses all that day, and most of the night. They could not make themtravel. Halting where they were they kept guard till dawn, then triedto drive their outfit on. But not for several hours could they movethem. At length, however, the stock began to get dry, and string outand travel. 

Late in the afternoon the boys reached Limestone. They found three oldcows stuck in the mud, up to their eyes, with only their horns andfaces showing. It took long hard work to get them out. They made campthere, turning the cows and calves loose, as this was their range. 

The following morning Pan and Joe rode up to the next boghole. Theyfound seventeen mired cattle. 

"Nice an' deep, " said Joe. "Damn these heah cows, allus pickin' outquicksand!"

It took until noon to pull them out. Another boghole showedtwenty-four more in deep. 

"How many more bogholes on Limestone?" asked Pan. 

"Only four an' the wust ones, " replied Joe, groaning. "If they'reboggin' as good up there in them big holes, your dad will sure have toship more cattle in soon. "

There were six thousand cattle watering along that stream. When thewater was low, as it was then, the cattle mired by the hundreds. 

"Looks bad, Pan, " remarked the older cowboy. "We're goin' to needhelp. "

They returned to camp, got their supper, took fresh horses, and workedhalf the night pulling cows out of the mud. 

By sunrise the next morning the boys were at work again. Some of themired cattle had died, others had kinks in their necks and had to bekilled. Farther up the creek conditions grew worse, and the biggestpool on the range looked from a distance like a small lake dotted withducks. 

"I'm cussin' the world by sections, " growled Joe. "Wal, kid, you g'onup the crick, and get as near a count as you can. I'm ridin' in aftermen an' wagons. We'll move the camp up heah. It's the wust I everseen, an' we'll lose a heap of stock. There's a loblolly of blue gumbomud an' no bottom. An' by thunder we're stuck heah for Lord knows howlong. "

That fall Jim Blake sold his farm, and took his family to New Mexico. He had not been prospering in the valley, and things had gone from badto worse. Pan did not get home in time to say good-by toLucy--something that hurt in an indefinable way. He had not forgottenLucy for in his mind she had become a steadfast factor in his homelife. She left a little note of farewell, simple and loyal, hopeful, yet somehow stultified. Not so childish as former notes! Time flew byand Lucy might be growing up. 

The Hardmans had also moved away from the valley, where, none of theneighbors appeared to know. But Pan was assured of two factsconcerning them; firstly that Dick had gotten into a serious shootingscrape in which he had wounded a rancher's son, and secondly that fromsome unexpected and unknown source the Hardmans had acquired or beenleft some money. 

Pan promptly forgot his boyhood enemy. This winter was the last thathe spent at home. He rode the Limestone range that summer, andaccording to cowboys' gossip was fast developing all the qualities thatpertained to the best riders of the day. 

Upon returning home he found that his father had made unwise deals andwas not getting along very well. Grasping settlers had closed in onthe range. Rustlers had ridden down from the north, raiding thevalley. During Pan's absence a little sister was born, which wasindeed joyful news for him. And as he played with the baby he wasreminded of Lucy. What had become of her? It occurred to Pan thatsooner or later he must hunt her up. 

Pan decided that he could not remain idle during the winter. He couldhave had plenty to do at home, working without wages, but that was nolonger to be thought of. So he decided to join two other adventurouscowboys who had planned to go south, and in the spring come back withsome of the great herds being driven north. 

But Pan liked the vast ranges of the Lone Star State, and he rode therefor two years, inevitably drifting into the wild free life of thecowboys. Sometimes he sent money home to his mother, but that wasseldom, because he was always in debt. She wrote him regularly, whichfact was the only link between him and the old home memories. Thoughtof Lucy returned now and then, on the lonely rides on night watches, and it seemed like a sweet melancholy dream. Never a word did he hearof her. 

Spring had come again when he rode into the Panhandle, and as luckwould have it he fell in with an outfit who were driving cattle toMontana, a job that would take until late fall. To his chagrin storiesof his wildness had preceded him. Ill rumor travels swiftly. Pan wasthe more liked and respected by these riders. But he feared thatgossip of the southern ranges would reach his mother. He would go homethat fall to reassure her of his well-being, and that he was not one ofthose "bad, gun-throwing cowboys. "

But late fall found him cheated of his long summer's wages, withoutmoney and job. He would not ride a "grub line" home, so he found aplace with a rancher in Montana. He learned to hate the bleak rangesof that northern state, the piercing blasts of wind, the ice and snow. Spring saw him riding south toward his old stamping grounds. Butalways he was drifting, with the swift months flying by as fleet as themustangs he rode, and he did not reach home. The Cimarron, the Platte, the Arkansas ranges came to know the tracks of his horses; and after hehad drifted on, to remember him as few cowboys were remembered. 

At twenty years of age Panhandle Smith looked older--looked the hardlife, the hard fare, the hard companionship that had been his lot as anAmerican cowboy. He had absorbed all the virtues of that remarkablecharacter, and most of the vices. But he had always kept aloof fromwomen. His comrades gave many forceful and humorous reasons for hisapparent fear of the sex, but they never understood him. Pan neverlost the reverence for women his mother had instilled in him, nor hisfirst and only love for Lucy Blake. 

One summer night Pan was standing night-guard duty for his cowboycomrade, who was enamored of the daughter of the rancher for whom theyworked. Jim was terribly in love, and closely pressed by a rival fromanother outfit. This night was to be the crucial one. 

Pan had to laugh at his friend. He was funny, he was pathetic, soprone to be cast down one moment and the next raised aloft to theskies, according to the whim of the capricious young lady. Many timesPan had ridden and worked with a boy afflicted with a similar malady. 

This night, however, Pan had been conscious of encroaching melancholy. Perhaps it was a yearning for something he did not know how to define. 

The night was strange, a sultry oppressive one, silent except for theuneasy lowing of the herd, a rumble of thunder from the dark rollingclouds. A weird yellow moon hung just above the horizon. The rangespread away dark, lonely and wild. No wind stirred. The wolves andcoyotes were quiet. All at once to Pan the whole world seemed empty. It was an unaccountable feeling. The open range, the solitude, theherd of cattle in his charge, the comrades asleep, the horses grazinground their pickets--these always sufficient things suddenly lost theirmagic potency. He divined at length that he was homesick. And by thetime the lay watch was ended he had determined to quit his job and ridehome. 

CHAPTER FIVE

On his way home Panhandle Smith rode across the old Limestone rangethat had been the scene of his first cowboy activities. It had notchanged, although the cattle were not so numerous. Familiar asyesterday were the bogholes, where he and his partner--what was thatcow-puncher's name?--had spent so many toilsome days and nights. 

Pan made camp on the rocky ford where a brook joined the Limestone. Itwas thirty miles to Littleton, farther to Las Animas, and his packhorse was tired. He cooked his meager meal, and unrolled his bed, andas on many a hundred other nights he lay down under the open sky. Buthis wakefulness was new. He could not get to sleep for long. Thenearer he got home the stranger and deeper his thoughts. 

Moving on next day he kept sharp lookout among the cattle for hisfather's brand. But he saw no sign of it. At length, toward sunset, after passing thousands of cattle, he concluded in surprise that hisfather's stock no longer ran this range. Too many homesteads andfences! He reached Littleton at dark. It had grown to be a sizablesettlement. Pan treated himself to a room at the new hotel, and aftersupper went out to find somebody he knew. It was Saturday night andthe town was full of riders and ranchers. He expected to meet an oldacquaintance any moment, but to his further surprise he did not. Finally he went to Campbell's store, long a fixture in the settlementof that country. John Campbell, huge of build, with his long beard andruddy face, appeared exactly the same as when he used to give Pan astick of candy. It did seem a long time, now. Campbell did notrecognize him. 

"Howdy, stranger, reckon you've got the best of me, " he replied toPan's question, and he sized up the tall lithe rider with curious andappreciating eyes. 

"Now, John, you used to give me a stick of candy, every time I came totown, " said Pan, with a laugh. 

"Wal, I done that for every Tom, Dick an' Harry of a kid in this heahcountry, " returned the old man, stroking his beard. "But durn if Irecollect you. "

"Panhandle Smith, " announced Pan, with just a little diffidence. Perhaps if he was not remembered personally he might have the good luckto be unknown in reputation. 

"Wal--Pan, if 't ain't you, by gosh!" ejaculated Campbell, cordially, and there was unmistakable welcome in his grip. "But no one here willever recognize you. Say, you've sprung up. We've heerd a lot aboutyou--nothin' of late years, though, now I tax myself. .. Cowboy, you'veseen some range life, if talk is true. "

"You mustn't believe all you hear, Mr. Campbell, " replied Pan, with asmile. "I'd like to know about my dad and mother. "

"Wal, haven't you heerd?" queried Campbell, hesitatingly. 

"What?" flashed Pan, noting the other's sudden change to gravity. "It's two years and more since I got a letter from Mother. I wrote acouple of times, but she never answered. "

"You ought to have come home long ago, " said Campbell. "Your fatherlost his cattle. Old deal with Hardman that stood for years. Mebbeyou never knowed about it. There are ranchers around here who swearHardman drove sharp deals. Wal, your father sold the homestead an'left. Reckon it's been over a year. "

"Where'd they go?"

"Your pa never told me where, but I heerd afterward that he hitHardman's trail an' went to western New Mexico. Marco is the name ofthe place. New country up there. Gold an' silver minin', some cattleoutfits goin' in, an lately I heerd of some big wild-hoss deals on. "

"Well, " exclaimed Pan, in profound amaze and sorrow at this news. 

"It's a wide-open frontier place, all right, " declared Campbell. "Somecowpuncher rode through here an' talked about Marco. He said theystepped high, wide an' handsome up there. "

"Why did Dad go?" asked Pan in wonder. 

"Reckon I couldn't say fer sure. But he was sore at Hardman, an' thefunny thing is he wasn't sore till some time after Hardman left theseparts. Mebbe he learned somethin'. An' you can learn whatever it wasif you hunt up them ranchers who once got stung by Hardman. "

"Ah-uh!" muttered Pan, thoughtfully. "Don't know as I care to learn. Dad will tell me. .. . Jim Blake, now, what become of him?"

"Jim, a while back, I reckon some years though after you left home, wasforeman for Hardman's outfit. An' he went to Marco first. ReckonHardman sent him up there to scout around. "

"Did Jim take his family along?" inquired Pan, pondering. 

"No. But they left soon after. In fact, now I tax myself, severalhomesteaders from hereabouts went. There's a boom over west, Pan, an'this here country is gettin' crowded. "

"Marco. How do you get there?"

"Wal, it's on the old road to Californy. "

Pan went to the seclusion of his room, and there in the dark, sleepless, he knew the pangs of remorse. Without realizing the flightof years, always meaning to return home, to help father, mother, littlesister, to take up again with his never-forgotten Lucy--he had allowedthe wild life of the range to hold him too long. Excuses were futile. Suppose he had failed to save money--suppose he had become numberedamong those whom his old schoolteacher had called "bad cowboys"!Pride, neglect, love of the range and new country, new adventure hadkept him from doing his duty by his parents. That hour was indeed darkand shameful for Panhandle Smith. Instead of drowning his grief indrink, as would have been natural for a cowboy, he let it work its willupon him. He deserved the pangs of self-reproach, the futilewondering, the revived memories that roused longings stronger than thatwhich had turned him on the homeward trail. 

Next day Pan sold his outfit except the few belongings he cherished, and boarded a west-bound stage. Once on the way he recovered from hisbrooding mood and gradually awakened to the fact that he was riding toa new country, a new adventure--the biggest of his life--in which hemust make amends to his mother, and to Lucy. Quite naturally heincluded Lucy in the little circle of beloved ones--Lucy, whom he haddeserted for the open range, for pitching horses and running steers, for the dust and turmoil of the roundup, for the long day ride and thelonely night watch, for the gaming table, the bottle, the gun--for allthat made life so thrilling to the American cowboy. 

Riding by stage was not new to Pan, though he had never before takenmore than a day's journey. The stage driver, Jim Wells, was anold-timer. He had been a pony-express rider, miner, teamster andfreighter, and now, grizzled and scarred he liked to perch upon thedriver's seat of the stage, chew tobacco and talk. His keen eyes tookPan's measure in one glance. 

"Pitch your bag up, cowboy, an' climb aboard, " he said. "An' whatmight your handle be?"

"Panhandle Smith, " replied Pan nonchalantly, "late of Sycamore Bend. "

"Wal, now, whar'd I hear thet name? I got a plumb good memory fernames an' faces. 'Pears I heerd thet name in Cheyenne, last summer. .. . I got it. Cowpuncher named Panhandle rode down street draggin' a boltof red calico thet unwound an' stampeded all the hosses. Might thetlad have happened to be you?"

"I reckon it might, " replied Pan, with a grin. "But if you know anymore about me keep it under your sombrero, old-timer. "

"Haw! Haw!" roared Wells, slapping his knee. "By golly, I will if Ican. There's a funny old lady inside what's powerful afeerd ofbandits, an' there's a gurl. I seen her takin' in your size an' spurs, an' thet gun you pack sort of comfortable like. An' there's a gambler, too, if I ever seen one. Reckon I'm agoin' to enjoy this ride. "

After the next stop, where the travelers got dinner, Pan returned tothe stage to find a young lady perched upon the driver's seat. She hadserious gray eyes and pale cheeks. 

"I took your seat, " she said, shyly, "but there's enough room. "

"Thanks, I'll ride inside, " replied Pan. 

"But if you don't sit here--someone else might--and I--he--" shefaltered, flushing a little. 

"Oh, in that case, I'll be glad to, " interrupted Pan, and climbed tothe seat beside her. He had become aware of the appearance of aflashily dressed, hawk-eyed individual about to enter the stage. "Areyou traveling alone?"

"No, thank you. Father is with me, but he never sees anything. I havebeen annoyed, " she replied. 

The stage driver arrived, and surveyed the couple on the seat with awink and a grin and a knowing look that quite embarrassed the younglady. 

"Wal, now, this here stage drivin' is gettin' to be mighty fine, " hesaid, as he clambered up to the seat, and unwound the reins from thebrake handle. "Lady, I reckon I seen you didn't like ridin' inside. Wal, you'll shore be all right ridin' between me an' my young friendPanhandle Smith. "

"I think I will, " replied the girl, dimpling prettily. "My name isEmily Newman. I'm on my way with my father to visit relatives inCalifornia. "

Pan soon found it needful to make conversation, in order to keep theloquacious old stage driver from talking too much. He had told MissNewman about Pan's escapade with the red calico, and had launched uponanother story about him, not funny at all to Pan, but one calculated tomake conquest of a romancing young girl. Pan managed to shut Wells up, but too late. Miss Newman turned bright eyes upon Pan. 

"Oh, of course, I saw you were a cowboy, " she said, dimpling again. "Those enormous spurs you wear! I wondered how you could walk. "

"These spurs? They're nothing. I sleep in them, " replied Pan. 

"Indeed. You're not serious. .. . Was that true about your riding roundCheyenne dragging yards and yards of red calico behind your horse?"

"Yes. It was silly of me. I fear I had been looking upon somethingbeside calico that was red. "

"Oh, you mean red liquor? . .. You were--under its influence!"

"A little, " replied Pan laughing, yet not liking the turn of theconversation. 

"I wouldn't have guessed that you--" she added, without concluding whatshe meant to say. But her tone, her look, and the intimation conveyeda subtle flattery to Pan. It seemed that whenever he approached youngwomen he always received similar impressions. That was seldom, for hisencounters with girls were few and far between. He could not helpfeeling pleased, somehow embarrassed, and rather vaguely elated. Hedivined danger for him in these potent impressions. Without everunderstanding why he had avoided friendships with girls. 

"Miss Newman, cowboys as a rule aren't worth much, " rejoined Pan, submerging his annoyance in good humor. "But at that they are notterrible liars like most of the stage drivers you meet. "

"Haw! Haw!" roared Jim Wells, cracking his long whip, as the stagebowled over the road. "He's a modest young fellar, Miss, a mostextraordinary kind of a cowboy. "

And so they bandied words and laughs from one to another, while thelong white road stretched ahead, and rolled behind under the wheels. The girl was plainly curious, interested, fascinated. Old Jim, afterthe manner of westerners, was bent on making a conquest for Pan. AndPan, trying hard to make himself appear only an ordinary and quiteworthless cowboy, succeeded only in giving an opposite impression. 

The little lady rode three whole days on the driver's seat between Panand Wells. She made the hours flee. When the stage reached Las Vegas, she got off with her father and turned in the crowd to wave good-by. Her eyes were wistful with what might have been. They haunted Pan fordays, over the mountain uplands and on and on. Pan cherished theexperience. To him it had been just a chance meeting with a nice girl, but somehow it opened his eyes to what he had missed. The way ofcowboys with girls was the one way in which he had been totallyunfamiliar. What he had missed was not the dancing and flirting andcourting that cowboys loved so well, but something he could not quitegrasp. It belonged to the never-fading influence of his mother; andlikewise it had some inscrutable association with little Lucy Blake. Little? Surely she could not be little now. She was a grown girl, ayoung woman like this Emily Newman, beautiful perhaps, with all thenameless charms women had for men. Pan grew conscious of a mountingeagerness to see Lucy, and each day during the ride across the desertthe feeling augmented, and with it a bewilderment equallyincomprehensible to him. 

New Mexico was strange and new. He saw the desert through eyesintensified by emotion. He knew the plains from Montana to Texas. Butthis was different country, with its stretches of valley, its walls ofred and yellow, its strange shafts of rock, its amber ranges, and faraway on every horizon the dim purple and white of great peaks weremagnificent. 

The Mormon ranches were scattered along the few green valleys. Cattlewere scarce, only a few herds dotting the endless sweeps of green sageand bleached grass. As he traveled farther westward, however, thenumbers of wild horses increased until they ran into the thousands. 

Horses had meant more to Pan than anything. In his wanderings up anddown the western slope of the prairie land east of the Rockies he hadoften encountered wild horses, and had enjoyed many a chase after them. Every cowboy was a wild horse hunter, on occasions. If he had riddenthese desert ranges, he would inevitably have become permanently ahunter and lover of wild horses. Moreover, Pan did not see why therewould not be vastly more money in it than in punching cows. He grewcharmed with the idea. 

Western New Mexico at last! It appeared a continuation and amagnifying of all the color and wildness and vastness. Sand dunes andwastes of black lava, dry lake beds and cone-shaped extinct volcanoes, with the ragged crater mouths gaping, low ranges of yellow cedar-dottedhills, valleys of purple, and green forests on the mountain slopes--allthese in endless variety were new to the cowboy of the plains. Waterwas conspicuous for its absence, though at long intervals of travel hecrossed a stream. The homesteader, that hopeful and lonely pioneer, was as scarce as the streams. 

One night, hours after dark, the stage rolled into Marco, with Pan oneof five passengers. Sunset had overtaken them miles from theirdestination. At that time Pan thought the country wild and beautifulin the extreme. Darkness had soon blotted out the strange formationsof colored rocks, the endless sweep of valley, the cold white peaks inthe far distance. 

Marco! How unusual the swelling of his heart! The long three-weekride had ended. The stage had rolled down a main street the like ofwhich Pan had never even imagined. It was crude, rough, garish withlights and stark board fronts of buildings, and a motley jostling crowdof men; women, too, were not wanting in the throngs streaming up anddown. Again it was Saturday night. Always it appeared Pan hit town onthis of all nights. Noise and dust filled the air. Pan pulled downhis bag, and mounted the board steps of the hotel the stage driver hadannounced. 

If Pan had not been keenly strung, after long weeks, with the thoughtof soon seeing his mother, father, his little sister and Lucy, he wouldyet have been excited over this adventure beyond the Rockies. 

Contrary to his usual habit of throwing his money to the winds likemost cowboys, he had exercised rigid economy on this trip. Indeed, itwas the first time he had ever done such a thing. He had between fourand five hundred dollars, consisting of wages he had saved and theproceeds from the sale of his horses and outfit. There was no tellingin what difficulties he might find his father and what need there mightbe for his money. So Pan took cheap lodgings, and patronized arestaurant kept by a Chinaman. 

He chose a table at which sat a young man whose face and hands andclothes told of rough life in the open in contact with elementalthings. Pan could catch such significance as quickly as he could thepoints of a horse. He belonged to that fraternity himself. 

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, indicating the vacant chair. 

"Help yourself, stranger, " was the reply, accompanied by an appraisingglance from level quiet eyes. 

"I'm sure hungry. How's the chuck here?" went on Pan, seating himself. 

"The Chink is a first rate cook an' clean. .. . Just come to town?"

"Yes, " replied Pan, and after giving his order to a boy waiter heturned to his companion across the table and continued. "And it took adarn long ride to get here. From Texas. "

"That so? Well, I come from western Kansas, just across the Texasline. "

"Been here long?"

"Reckon a matter of six months. "

"What's your work, if you'll excuse curiosity. I'm green, you see, andwant to know. "

"I've been workin' a minin' claim. Gold. "

"Ah-huh!" replied Pan with quickened interest. "Sounds awful good tome. I never saw any gold but a few gold eagles, and they've sure beenscarce enough. "

Pan's frankness, and that something simple and careless about him, combined with his appearance, always created the best of impressionsupon men. 

His companion grinned across the table, as if he had shared Pan'sexperience. "Reckon you needn't tell me you're a cowpuncher. I heardyou comin' before I saw you. .. . My name's Brown. "

"Howdy, glad to meet you, " replied Pan, and then with evidenthesitation. "Mine is Smith. "

"Panhandle Smith?" queried the other, quickly. 

"Why, sure, " returned Pan with a laugh. 

"Shake, " was all the reply Brown made, except to extend a lean stronghand. 

"I'm most as lucky as I am unlucky, " said Pan warmly. "It's a smallworld. .. . Now tell me, Brown, have you seen or heard anything of mydad, Bill Smith?"

"No, sorry to say. But I haven't mingled much. Been layin' prettylow, because the fact is I think I've struck a rich claim. An' it'smade me cautious. "

"Ah-uh. Pretty wide open town, I'll bet. I appreciate your confidencein me. "

"To tell you the truth I'm darn glad to run into some one from nearhome. Lord, I wish you could have brought word from my wife an' baby. "

"Married, and got a kid. That's fine. Boy or girl?"

"It's a girl. I never saw her, as she was born after I left home. Mywife wasn't very well when she wrote last. She wants to come out here, but I can't see that yet a while. "

"Well, wish I could have brought you news. It must be tough to beseparated from your family. I'm not married, but I know what a littlegirl means. .. . Say, Brown, did you ever run into a man out here namedJim Blake?"

"No. "

"Or a man named Hardman? Jard Hardman?"

"Hardman! Now you're talkin', Panhandle. I should smile I have, "replied Brown, with a flash of quiet eyes that Pan had learned torecognize as dangerous in men. His own pulse heightened. It was likecoming suddenly on a track for which he had long been searching. Theone word Hardman had struck fire from this young miner. 

"What's Hardman doing?" asked Pan quietly. 

"Everythin' an' between you an' me, he's doin' everybody. Jard Hardmanis in everythin'. Minin', ranchin', an' I've heard he's gone in forthis wild horse chasin'. That's the newest boom around Marco. ButHardman has big interests here in town. It's rumored he's back of theYellow Mine, the biggest saloon an' gamblin' hell in town. "

"Well, I'll be doggoned, " ejaculated Pan thoughtfully. "Things turnout funny. You can show me that place presently. Does Hardman hangout here in Marco?"

"Part of the time. He travels to Frisco, Salt Lake, an' St. Louiswhere he sells cattle an' horses. He has a big ranch out here in thevalley, an' stays there some. His son runs the outfit. "

"His son?" queried Pan, suddenly hot with a flash of memory. 

"Yes, his son, " declared Brown eyeing Pan earnestly. "Reckon you mustknow Dick Hardman?"

"I used to--long ago, " replied Pan, pondering. How far in the pastthat seemed! How vivid now in memory!

"Old Hardman makes the money an' Dick blows it in, " went on Brown, withsomething of contempt in his voice. "Dick plays, an' they say he's arotten gambler. He drinks like a fish, too. I don't run around muchin this burg, believe me, but I see Dick often. I heard he'd fetched agirl here from Frisco. "

"Ah-uh! Well, that's enough about my old schoolmate, thank you, "rejoined Pan. "Tell me, Brown, what's this Marco town anyway?"

"Well, it's both old an' new, " replied the other. "That's about all, Ireckon. Findin' gold an' silver out in the hills has made a boom thislast year or so. That's what fetched me. The town is twice the sizeit was when I saw it first, an' many times more people. There's a lotof these people, riffraff, that work these minin' towns. Gamblers, sharks, claim jumpers, outlaws, adventurers, tramps, an' of course thekind of women that go along with them. A good many cow outfits makethis their headquarters now. An' last, this horse tradin', an' wildhorse catchin'. Sellin' an' shippin' has attracted lots of men. Everyday or so a new fellar, like you, drops in from east of the Rockies. There are some big mining men investigatin' the claims. An' if goodmineral is found Marco will be solid, an' not just a mushroom town. "

"Any law?" inquired Pan thoughtfully. 

"Not so you'd notice it much, especially when you need it, " assertedBrown grimly. "Matthews is the town marshal. Self-elected so far as Icould see. An' he's hand an' glove with Hardman. He's mayor, magistrate, sheriff, an' the whole caboodle, includin' the court. Butthere are substantial men here, who sooner or later will organize an'do things. They're too darned busy now workin', gettin' on their feet. "

"Ah-uh. I savvy. I reckon you're giving me a hunch that in yourprivate opinion Matthews isn't exactly straight where some interestsare concerned. Hardman's for instance. I've run across that sort ofdeal in half a dozen towns. "

"You got me, " replied Brown, soberly. "But please regard that as myconfidential opinion. I couldn't prove it. This town hasn't grown upto political corruption an' graft. But it's headed that way. "

"Well, I was lucky to run into you, " said Pan with satisfaction. "I'lltell you why some other time. I'm pretty sure to stick here. .. . Nowlet's go out and see the town, especially the Yellow Mine. "

Pan had not strolled the length of the main street before he realizedthat there was an atmosphere here strangely unfamiliar to him. Yet hehad visited some fairly wild and wide-open towns. But they had owedtheir wildness and excitement and atmosphere to the range and theomnipresent cowboy. Old-timers had told him stories of Abilene andDodge, when they were in their heyday. He had gambled in the hells ofJuárez, across the Texas border where there was no law. Some of theMontana cattle towns were far from slow, in cowboy vernacular. Buthere he sensed a new element. And soon he grasped it as the fever ofthe rush for gold. The excitement of it took hold of him, so that hehad to reason with himself to shake it off. 

The town appeared about a mile long, spread out on two sides of themain street, graduating from the big buildings of stone and wood in thecenter to flimsy frame structures and tents along the outskirts. Panestimated that he must have passed three thousand people during hisstroll, up one side of the street and down the other. Even if thesemade up the whole population it was enough to insure a good-sized town. There were no street lamps. And the many yellow lights from open doorsand windows fell upon the throngs moving to and fro, in the street aswell as on the sidewalks. 

Pan's guide eventually led him into the Yellow Mine. 

He saw a long wide room full of moving figures, thin wreaths of bluesmoke that floated in the glaring yellow lights. A bar ran the wholelength of this room, and drinkers were crowded in front of it. Theclink of glass, the clink of gold, the incessant murmur of hoarsevoices almost drowned faint strains of music from another room thatopened from this one. 

The thousand and one saloons and gambling dives that Pan had seen couldnot in any sense compare with this one. This was on a big scalewithout restraint of law or order. Piles of gold and greenbackslittered the tables where roulette, faro, poker were in progress. Black garbed, pale hard-faced gamblers sat with long mobile hands onthe tables. Bearded men, lean-faced youths bent with intent gaze overtheir cards. Sloe-eyed Mexicans in their high-peaked sombreros andgaudy trappings lounged here and there, watching, waiting--for what didnot seem clear to Pan. Drunken miners in their shirt sleeves stampedthrough the open door, to or from the bar. An odor of whisky mingledwith that of tobacco smoke. Young women with bare arms and necks andpainted faces were in evidence, some alone, most of them attended bymen. 

The gambling games attracted Pan. Like all cowboys he had felt thefascination of games of chance. He watched the roulette wheel, thenthe faro games. In one corner of the big room, almost an alcove, Panespied a large round table at which were seated six players engrossedin a game of poker. He saw thousands of dollars in gold and notes onthat table. A pretty flashy girl with bold eyes and a lazy sleepysmile hung over the shoulder of one of the gamblers. 

Pan's comrade nudged him in the side. 

"What? Where?" whispered Pan answering quickly to the suggestion andhis glance swept everywhere. 

Brown was gazing with gleaming eyes at the young card player over whoseshoulder the white-armed girl hung. 

Then Pan saw a face that was strangely familiar--a handsome face of acomplexion between red and white, with large sensual mouth, bold eyes, and a broad low brow. The young gambler was Dick Hardman. 

Pan knew him. The recognition meant nothing, yet it gave Pan a start, a twinge, and then sent a slow heat along his veins. He laughed tofind the boyishness of old still alive in him. After eight years ofhard life on the ranges! By that sudden resurging of long forgottenemotion Pan judged the nature of what the years had made him. It wouldbe interesting to see how Dick Hardman met him. 

But it was the girl who first seemed drawn by Pan's piercing gaze. Shecaught it--then looked a second time. Sliding off the arms ofHardman's chair she moved with undulating motion of her slender form, and with bright eyes, round the table toward Pan. And at that momentDick Hardman looked up from his cards and watched her. 

CHAPTER SIX

"Hello, cowboy. How'd I ever miss you?" she queried roguishly, runningher bright eyes from his face down to his spurs and back again. 

"Good evening, Lady, " replied Pan, removing his sombrero and bowing, with his genial smile. "I just come to town. "

She hesitated as if struck by a deference she was not accustomed to. Then she took his hands in hers and dragged him out a little away fromBrown, whom she gave a curt nod. Again she looked Pan up and down. 

"Did you take off that big hat because you know you're mighty good tolook at?" she asked, archly. 

"Well, no, hardly, " answered Pan. 

"What for then?"

"It's a habit I have when I meet a pretty girl. "

"Thank you. Does she have to be _pretty_?"

"Reckon not. Any girl, Miss. "

"You are a stranger in Marco. Look out somebody doesn't shoot a holein that hat when you doff it. "

While she smiled up at him, losing something of the hawklike, possession-taking manner that had at first characterized her, Pan couldsee Dick Hardman staring hard across the table. Before Pan could finda reply for the girl one of the gamesters, an unshaven scowling fellow, addressed Hardman. 

"Say, air you playin' cairds or watchin' your dame make up to that bighat an' high boots?"

Pan grasped the opportunity, though he never would have let that remarkpass under any circumstances. He disengaged his right hand from thegirl's, and stepping up to the table, drawing her with him, he bent aglance upon the disgruntled gambler. 

"Excuse me, Mister, " he began in the slow easy cool speech of a cowboy, "but did you mean me?"

His tone, his presence, drew the attention of all at the table, especially the one he addressed, and Hardman. The former laid down hiscards. Shrewd eyes took Pan's measure, surely not missing the gun athis hip. 

"Suppose I did mean you?" demanded the gambler, curiously. 

"Well, if you did I'd have to break up your game, " replied Pan, apologetically. "You see, Mister, it hurts my feelings to have anyonemake fun of my clothes. "

"All right, cowboy, no offense meant, " returned the other, at whicheveryone except Hardman, let out a laugh. "But you'll break up ourgame anyhow, if you don't trot off with Louise there. "

His further remark, dryly sarcastic, mostly directed at Hardman did nothelp the situation, so far as Pan was concerned. It was, however, exactly what Pan wanted. Dick stared insolently and fixedly at Pan. He appeared as much puzzled as annoyed. Manifestly he was trying toplace Pan, and did not succeed. Pan had hardly expected to berecognized, though he stood there a moment, head uncovered, under thelight, giving his old enemy eye for eye. In fact his steady gazedisconcerted Dick, who turned his glance on the amused girl. Then hisface darkened and he spat out his cigar to utter harshly: "Go on, youcat! And don't purr round me any more!"

Insolently she laughed in his face. "You forget I can scratch. " Thenshe drew Pan away from the table, beckoning for Brown to come also. Halting presently near the wide opening into the dance hall she said:

"I'm always starting fights. What might your name be, cowboy?"

"Well, it might be Tinkerdam, but it isn't, " replied Pan nonchalantly. 

"Aren't you funny?" she queried, half-inclined to be affronted. Butshe thought better of it, and turned to Brown. "I know your face. "

"Sure you do, Miss Louise, " said Brown, easily. "I'm a miner. Washere when you came to town, an' I often drop in to see the fun. "

"What's your name?" she asked. 

"Charley Brown, an' that's straight. "

"Thanks, Charley. Now tell me who's this big good-looking pard ofyours? I just want to know. You can't fool me about men. He doffshis hat to me. He talks nice and low, and smiles as no men smile atme. Then he bluffs the toughest nut in this town. .. . Who is he?"

"All right, I'll introduce you, " drawled Brown. "Meet Panhandle Smith, from Texas. "

"Well, " she mused, fastening her hands in the lapels of his coat. "Ithought you'd have a high-sounding handle. .. . Will you dance with me?"

"Sure, but I'm afraid I step pretty high and wide. "

They entered another garish room, around which a throng of couples spunand wagged and tramped and romped. Pan danced with the girl, anddespite the jostling of the heavy-footed miners acquitted himself in amanner he thought was creditable for him. He had not been one of thedancing cowboys. 

"That was a treat after those clodhoppers, " she said, when the danceended. "You're a modest boy, Panhandle. You've got me guessing. I'mnot used to your kind--out here. .. . Let's go have a drink. I've gotto have whisky. "

That jarred somewhat upon Pan and, as she led him back to Brown andthen both of them to an empty table, he began to grasp the significanceof these bare-armed white-faced girls with their dark-hollowed eyes andscarlet lips. 

She drank straight whisky, and it was liquor that burned Pan like fire. Brown, too, made a wry face. 

"Panhandle, are you going to stay here in Marco?" she inquired, leaningon her white round arms. 

"Yes, if I find my folks, " he replied simply. "They lost all theyhad--ranch, cattle, horses--and moved out here. I never knew until Iwent back home. Makes me feel pretty mean. But Dad was doing wellwhen I left home. "

"Mother--sister, too?"

"Yes. And my sister Alice must be quite a girl now, " mused Pan. 

"And you're going to help them?" she asked softly. 

"I should smile, " said Pan feelingly. 

"Then, you mustn't buy drinks for me--or run after me--as I was goingto make you do. "

Pan was at a loss for a reply to that frank statement. And as he gazedat her, conscious of a subtle change, someone pounded him on the backand then fell on his neck. 

"My Gawd--if heah ain't Panhandle!" burst out a husky voice. 

Pan got up as best he could, and pulled free from the fellow. Thevoice had prepared Pan for an old acquaintance, and when he saw thatlean red face and blue eyes he knew them. 

"Well, I'll be darned. Blinky Moran! You son of a gun! Drunk--thesame as when I saw you last. "

"Aw, Pan, I ain't jes drunk, " he replied. "Mebbe I was--but shein'you--ole pard--my Gawd! It's like cold sweet water on my hot face. "

"Blink, I'm sure glad to see you, drunk or sober, " replied Pan warmly. "What're you doing out here?"

Moran braced himself, not without the help of his hold upon Pan, and itwas evident that this meeting had roused him. 

"Pan, meet my pard heah, " he began, indicating a stalwart young man inoveralls and high boots. "Gus Hans, puncher of Montana. "

Pan shook hands with the grinning cowboy. 

"Pard, yore shakin' the paw of Panhandle Smith, " announced Moran insolemn emotion. "This heah's the boy, frens. You've heerd me ravemany's the time. He was my pard, my bunkmate, my brother. We rode theCimarron together, an' the Arkansaw, an' we was the only straightpunchers in the Long Bar C outfit that was drove out of Wyomin'. .. . His beat never forked a hoss or coiled a rope. An' shorer'n hell, pard, I'd been a rustler but fer Panhandle. More'n onct he throwed hisgun fer me an--"

"Say, Blink, I'll have to choke you, " interrupted Pan, laughing. "Now, you meet my friends here, Miss Louise--and Charley Brown. "

Pan did not miss the effect the bright-eyed red-lipped girl made uponthe cowboys, especially Moran who, he remembered, had always succumbedeasily to feminine charms. 

"Blinky, you've been drinking too much to dance with a lady, " presentlyremarked Louise. 

"Wal, now, Miss, I'm as sober as Panhandle there, " replied Moranardently. 

She shook her curly head smilingly and, rising from the table, wentround to Pan and leaned up to him with both wistfulness andrecklessness in her face. 

"Panhandle Smith, I'll leave you to your friends, " she said. "Butdon't you drift in here again--for if you do--I'll forget my sacrificefor little Alice. .. . There!"

She kissed him square on the lips and ran off without a backward glance. 

Blinky fell into a chair, overcome with some unusual kind of emotion. He stared comically at Pan. 

"Say, ole pard, you used to be shy of skirts!" he expostulated. 

"Reckon I am yet, for all the evidence, " retorted Pan, half amused andhalf angry at the unexpected move of the girl. 

Charley Brown joined in the mirth at Pan's expense. 

"Guess the drinks are on me, " he said. "And they'll be the last. "

"Pan, thet there girl is Louie Melliss!" ejaculated Moran. 

"Is it? Well, who in the deuce is she?"

"Say, cowboy, quit your foolin'!"

"Honest, I never saw or heard of the young lady till a few minutes ago. Ask Brown. "

"That's a fact, " corroborated Brown, thus appealed to. "She's thebelle of this hell. Sure, Smith, you savvy that?"

"No, " rejoined Pan bluntly. He began to fear he had been ratherthickheaded. "I've holed up in a few gambling hells where drinks andscraps went pretty lively. But this is the first one for me wherethere were a lot of half-naked girls. "

"You're west of the Rockies, now, " replied Brown, grimly. "An' you'llsoon find that out in more ways than one. .. . Louie Melliss is straightfrom Frisco, an' chain-lightnin' to her fingertips, so they say. Beensome bad messes over her. But they say too, she's as white an' squareas any good woman. "

"Aw! . .. Reckon I'm pretty much of a tenderfoot, " returned Pan. Hisregret was for the pretty audacious girl whose boldness of approach hehad not understood. 

"For Gawd's sake, pard, " began Moran, recovering from his shock. "Don't you come ridin' around heah fer thet little devil to get stuckon you. She's shore agoin' to give young Hardman a bootiful trimmin'. An' let her do it!"

"Oh. So you don't care much about young Hardman?" inquired Pan withinterest. He certainly felt that he was falling into news. 

"I'd like to throw a gun on him an' onct I damn near done it, " declaredMoran. 

"What for?"

"He an' another fellar jumped the only claim I ever struck thet showedany color, " went on the cowboy with an earnestness that showedexcitement had sobered him. "I went back one mawnin' an' there wasHardman an' a miner named Purcell. They ran me off, swore it was theirclaim. Purcell said he'd worked it before an' sold it to Jard Hardman. Thet's young Hardman's dad, an' he wouldn't fit in any square hole. Iwent to Matthews an' raised a holler. But I couldn't prove nothin'. .. . An' by Gawd, Pan, thet claim is a mine now, payin' well. "

"Tough luck, Blink. You always did have the darndest luck. .. . Say, Brown, is that sort of deal worked often?"

"Common as dirt, in the early days of a find, " replied Brown. "Ihaven't heard of any claim jumpin' just lately, though. It's somethin'like rustlin' cattle. You know most every cowman now and then picks upsome unbranded stock that he knows isn't his. But he takes it along. Now claim jumpin' is somethin' like that. If a fellar leaves his claimfor a day or a week he's liable to come back an' find some one hasjumped it. I never leave mine in the daytime, an' I have witnesses tothat. "

"Blinky, I came out here to find my dad, " said Pan. "Have you ever runacross him?"

"Nope. Never heerd of him. I'd shore have asked aboot you. "

"How am I going to find out quick if Dad is here, and where?"

"Easy as pie. Go to the stage office, where they get the mail an'express. Matty Smith has been handlin' thet since this heah burg was akid in short dresses. "

"Good. I'll go the first thing in the morning. .. . Now, you littleknock-kneed, bow-legged two-bit cowpuncher! What're you doing withthose things on your boots?"

"Huh! What things?" queried Moran. 

"Why, those long shiny things that jingle when you walk. "

"Haw! Haw! . .. Say, Pan, I might ask you the same. What you travelwith them spurs on your boots fer?"

"I tried traveling without them, but I couldn't feel that I was moving. "

"Wal, by gum, I been needin' mine. Ask Gus there. We've beenwranglin' wild hosses. Broomtails they calls them heah. We've beendoin' pretty good. Hardman an' Wiggate pay twelve dollars an' fourbits a hoss on the hoof. Right heah in Marco. We could get more if wecould risk shippin' to St. Louis. But thet's a hell of a job. Longways to the railroad, an' say, mebbe drivin' them broomies isn't tough!Then two of us anyhow would have to go on the freight train with thehosses. Shore we cain't figger it thet way now. But later when weketch a thousand haid we may try it. "

"A thousand head! Blinky, are you still on the ground? You're talkin'fifteen thousand dollars. "

"Shore. An' I'm tellin' you, Pan, thet we can make it. But ketchin'these wild hosses in any number hasn't been done yet. Hardman has anoutfit ridin'. But them fellars couldn't get away from their own dust. We're not so blame swift, either. S'pose you throw in with us, Pan. You've chased wild hosses. "

"Not such an awful lot, Blink. That game depends on the lay of theland. "

"Shore. An' it lays bad in these parts. Will you throw in with us?An' have you got any money?"

"Yes to both questions, old-timer. But I've got to find Dad before Iget careless with my money. Where are you boys staying?"

"We got a camp just out of town. We eat at the Chink's when we'reheah, an' thet's every few days. We got lots of room an' welcome foryou, but no bedroll. "

"I'll buy an outfit in the morning and throw in with you. .. . Hello, there's shooting. Gun play. Let's get out of this place where there'smore room and air. "

With that they, and many others, left the hall and joined the movingcrowd in the street. The night was delightfully cool. Stars shonewhite in a velvet sky. The dry wind from mountain and desert blew intheir faces. Pan halted at the steps of the hotel. 

"Blink, I'm going to turn in. Call for me in the morning. I can'ttell you how glad I am that I ran into you boys. And you, too, Brown. I'd like to see more of you. "

They shook hands and parted. Pan entered the hotel, and sat a while inthe bare smoky lobby, where sharp-eyed men and women passed him by withone look at his cowboy attire. They were seeking bigger game. Panexperienced a strange excitation in the hour, in the place. 

When he went to his room he was not sleepy. "Lucky to meet thoseboys, " he soliloquized, as he undressed. "Now to findDad--Mother--Alice! Lord, I hope all's well with them. But I've afeeling it isn't. .. . And Lucy! I wonder will she be here too. Willshe recognize me? I'll bet a million she does. Funny about DickHardman. Never knew me. Didn't he look, though? . .. And that girlLouise. She had to laugh and talk all the time to hide the sadness ofher face. .. . At that, she's too good for Dick Hardman. .. . I'll betanother million he and I clash again. "

Pan was up bright and early, enjoying the keen desert air, and the vastdifference between Marco at night and at dawn. The little spell ofmorbid doubt and worry that had settled upon him did not abide in theclear rosy light of day. Hope and thrill resurged in him. 

Blinky and his partner soon appeared, and quarreled over which shouldcarry Pan's baggage out to their quarters. Pan decidedly preferred thelocality to that he had just left. The boys had a big tent set up on aframework of wood, an open shed which they used as a kitchen, and a bigcorral. The site was up on a gradual slope, somewhat above the town, and rendered attractive by a small brook and straggling cedars. Theyhad a Mexican cook who was known everywhere as Lying Juan. Pan graspedat once that he would have a lot of fun with Juan. 

The boys talked so fast they almost neglected to eat their breakfast. They were full of enthusiasm, which fact Pan could not but see wasowing to his arrival. It amused him. Moran, like many other cowboys, had always attributed to Pan a prowess and character he felt sure wereundeserved. Yet it touched him. 

"Wal, ole-timer, we'll rustle now, " finally said Moran. "We've gotaboot fifty broomies out heah in a canyon. We'll drive 'em in today, an' also some saddle hosses for you. "

"I'll buy a horse, " interposed Pan. 

"You'll do nothin' of the sort, " declared Blinky stoutly. "Ain't wegot a string of hosses, an' there shore might be _one_ of them goodenough even for Panhandle Smith. But you want a saddle. There's onein Black's store. It's Mexican, an' a blamed good one. Cheap, too. "

Gus came trotting up on a spirited sorrel, leading two otherwell-pointed horses, saddled, champing their bits. Sight of them wasgood for Pan's eyes. He would never long have been happy away fromhorses. Moran leaped astride one of them, and then said, hesitatingly:

"Pard, shore hope you hev good luck findin' your dad. "

Pan watched them ride away down the slope to the road, and around abend out of sight. It was wonderful country that faced him, cedar, piñon and sage, colored hills and flats, walls of yellow rock stretchaway, and dim purple mountains all around. If his keen eyes did notdeceive him there was a bunch of wild horses grazing on top of thefirst hill. 

"Juan, are there lots of wild horses?" he asked the Mexican cook. Andpresently he came into knowledge of the justice of the name "LyingJuan. " Pan had met some great liars in his life on the range, but ifJuan could do any better than this he would be the champion of them all. 

Pan shaved, put on a clean flannel shirt and new scarf, and leaving hiscoat behind he strode off toward the town. The business of the day hadbegun, and there was considerable bustle. Certainly Marco showed nosimilarity to a cattle town. Somebody directed him to the stage andexpress office, a plain board building off the main street. Three menlounged before it, one on the steps, and the others against thehitching-rail. Pan took them in before they paid any particularattention to him. 

"Morning, gents, " he said, easily. "Is the agent Smith around?"

"Howdy, stranger, " replied one of them, looking Pan over. "Smith juststepped over to the bank. He'll be back pronto. "

Another of the group straightened up to run a hard gray eye from Pan'sspurs to his sombrero, and back for a second glance at his low hanginggun. He was a tall man, in loose tan garments, trousers stuffed in hisboots. He had a big sandy mustache. He moved to face Pan, and eitherby accident or design the flap of his coat fell back to expose a brightsilver shield on his vest. 

"Reckon you're new in these parts?" he queried. 

"Yep. Just rode in, " replied Pan cheerfully. 

"See you're packin' hardware, " went on the other, with significantglance at Pan's gun. 

Pan at once took this man to be Matthews, the town marshal mentioned byCharley Brown. He had not needed Brown's hint; he had encountered manysheriffs of like stripe. Pan, usually the kindliest and most genial ofcowboys, returned the sheriff's curious scrutiny with a cool stare. 

"Am I packing a gun?" rejoined Pan, with pretended surprise, as helooked down at his hip. "Sure, so I am. Clean forgot it, Mister. Habit of mine. "

"What's a habit?" snapped the other. 

Pan now shot a straight level gaze into the hard gray eyes of thesheriff. He knew he was going to have dealings with this man, and thesooner they began the better. 

"Why, my packing a gun--when I'm in bad company, " said Pan. 

"Pretty strong talk, cowboy, west of the Rockies. .. . I'm Matthews, thetown marshal. "

"I knew that, and I'm right glad to meet you, " rejoined Pan pertly. Hemade no move to meet the half-proffered hand, and his steady gazedisconcerted the marshal. 

Another man came briskly up, carrying papers in his hand. 

"Are you the agent, Mr. Smith?" asked Pan. 

"I am thet air, young fellar. "

"Can I see you a moment, on business?"

"Come right in. " He ushered Pan into his office and shut the door. 

"My name's Smith, " began Pan hurriedly. "I'm hunting for my dad. .. Bill Smith. Do you know him--if he's in Marco?"

"Bill Smith's cowboy! Wal, put her thar, " burst out the other, heartily, shoving out a big hand. His surprise and pleasure weremarked. "Know Bill? Wal, I should smile. We're neighbors an' goodfriends. "

Pan was so overcome by relief and sudden joy that he could not speakfor a moment, but he wrung the agent's hand. 

"Wal, now, sort of hit you in the gizzard, hey?" he queried, with humorand sympathy. He released his hand and put it on Pan's shoulder. "I've heard all about you, cowboy. Bill always talked a lot--untillately. Reckon he's deep hurt thet you never wrote. "

"I've been pretty low-down, " replied Pan with agitation. "But I nevermeant to be. .. . I just drifted along. .. . Always I was going back homesoon. But I didn't. And I haven't written home for two years. "

"Wal, forget thet now, son, " said the agent kindly. "Boys will beboys, especially cowboys. You've been a wild one, if reports comin' toBill was true. .. . But you've come home to make up to him. Lord knowshe needs you, boy. "

"Yes--I'll make it--up, " replied Pan, trying to swallow his emotion. "Tell me. "

"Wal, I wish I had better news to tell, " replied Smith, gravely shakinghis head. "Your dad's had tough luck. He lost his ranch in Texas, asI reckon you know, an' he follered--the man who'd done him out here totry to make him square up. Bill only got a worse deal. Then he gotstarted again pretty good an' lost out because of a dry year. Now he'sworkin' in Carter's Wagon Shop. He's a first-rate carpenter. But hiswages are small, an' he can't never get no where. He's talked some ofwild-hoss wranglin'. But thet takes an outfit, which he ain't got. I'll give you a hunch, son. If you can stake your dad to an outfit an'throw in with him you might give him another start. "

Pan had on his tongue an enthusiastic reply to that, but the entranceof the curious Matthews halted him. 

"Thank you, Mr. Smith, " he said, eagerly. "Where'll I find Carter'sWagon Shop?"

"Other end of town. Right down Main Street. You can't miss it. "

Pan hurried out, and through the door he heard Matthews' loud voice:

"Carter's Wagon Shop! . .. By thunder, I've got the hunch! That cowboyis Panhandle Smith!"

Pan smiled grimly to himself, as he passed on out of hearing. The nameand fame that had meant so little to him back on the prairie rangesmight stand him in good stead out here west of the Rockies. He strodeswiftly, his thought reverting to his father. He wanted to run. Remorse knocked at his heart. Desertion! He had gone off, like somany cowboys, forgetting home, father, mother, duty. They hadsuffered. Never a word of it had come to him. 

The way appeared long, and the line of stone houses and board shacks, never ending. At last he reached the outskirts of Marco and espied thebuilding and sign he was so eagerly seeking. Resounding hammer strokescame from the shop. Outward coolness, an achievement habitual with himwhen excitement mounted to a certain stage, came with effort and hepaused a moment to gaze at the sweeping country, green and purple, dotted by gray rocks, rising to hills gold with autumn colors. Hislong journey was at an end. In a moment more anxiety would be a thingof the past. Let him only see his father actually in the flesh!

Pan entered the shop. It was open, like any other wagon shop with woodscattered about, shavings everywhere, a long bench laden with tools, aforge. Then he espied a man wielding a hammer on a wheel. His backwas turned. But Pan knew him. Knew that back, that shaggy headbeginning to turn gray, knew even the swing of arm! He approachedleisurely. The moment seemed big, splendid. 

"Howdy, Dad, " he called, at the end of one of the hammer strokes. 

His father's lax figure stiffened. He dropped the wheel, then thehammer. But not on the instant did he turn. His posture was strained, doubtful. Then he sprang erect, and whirled. Pan saw his fathergreatly changed, but how it was impossible to grasp because his seamedface was suddenly transformed. 

"For the good--Lord's sake--if it ain't Pan!" he gasped. 

"It sure is, Dad. Are you glad to see me?"

"_Glad_! . .. Reckon this'll save your mother's life!" and to Pan'samaze he felt himself crushed in his father's arms. That sort of thinghad never been Bill Smith's way. He thrilled to it, and tried again tobeat back the remorse mounting higher. His father released him, anddrew back, as if suddenly ashamed of his emotion. His face, which hehad been trying to control, smoothed out. 

"Wal, Pan, you come back now--after long ago I gave up hopin'?" hequeried, haltingly. 

"Yes, Dad, " began Pan with swift rush of words. "I'm sorry. I alwaysmeant to come home. But one thing and another prevented. Then I neverheard of your troubles. I never knew you needed me. You didn't write. Why didn't you _tell_ me? . .. But forget that. I rode theranges--drifted with the cowboys--till I got homesick. Now I've foundyou--and well, I want to make up to you and mother. "

"Ah-huh! Sounds like music to me, " replied Smith, growing slow andcool. He eyed Pan up and down, walked round him twice. Then hesuddenly burst out, "Wal, you long-legged strappin' son of a gun! Ifsight of you ain't good for sore eyes! . .. Ah-huh! Look where hepacks that gun!"

With slow strange action he reached down to draw Pan's gun from itsholster. It was long and heavy, blue, with a deadly look. Thefather's intent gaze moved from it up to the face of the son. Panrealized what his father knew, what he thought. The moment wassickening for Pan. A cold shadow, forgotten for long, seemed to passthrough his mind. 

"Pan, I've kept tab on you for years, " spoke his father slowly, "butI'd have heard, even if I hadn't took pains to learn. .. . PanhandleSmith! You damned hard-ridin', gun-throwin' son of mine! . .. Once myheart broke because you drifted with the wild cowpunchers--but now--byGod, I believe I'm glad. "

"Dad, never mind range talk. You know how cowboys brag and blow. .. . I'm not ashamed to face you and mother. I've come clean, Dad. "

"But, son, you've--you've used that gun!" whispered Smith, hoarsely. 

"Sure I have. On some two-legged coyotes an' skunks. .. . And maybegreasers. I forget. "

"Panhandle Smith!" ejaculated his father, refusing to take the matterin Pan's light vein. "They know here in Marco. .. . You're known, Pan, here west of the Rockies. "

"Well, what of it?" flashed Pan, suddenly gripped again by that strangecold emotion in the depths of him. "I should think you'd be glad. Reckon it was all good practice for what I'll have to do out here. "

"Don't talk that way. You've read my mind, " replied Smith, huskily. "I'm afraid. I'm almost sorry you came. Yet, right now I feel more ofa man than for years. "

"Dad, you can tell me everything some other time, " rejoined Pan, throwing off the sinister spell. "Now, I only want to know aboutMother and Alice. "

"They're well an' fine, son, though your mother grieves for you. Shenever got over that. An' Alice, she's a big girl, goin' to school an'helpin' with work. .. . An' Pan, you've got a baby brother nearly twoyears old. "

"Jumping cowbells!" shouted Pan, in delight. "Where are they? Tell mequick. "

"We live on a farm a mile or so out. I rent it for most nothin'. Hall, who owns it, has a big ranch. I've got an option on this farm, an' it shore is a bargain. Hundred an' ten acres, most of itcultivated. Good water, pasture, barn, an' nice little cabin. I workhere mornin's, an' out there afternoons. You'll--"

"Stop talking about it. I'll buy the farm, " interrupted Pan. "But_where_ is it?"

"Keep right out this road. Second farmhouse, " said his father, pointing to the west. "I'd go with you, but I promised some work. ButI'll be home at noon. .. . Hey, hold on. There's more to tell. You'llget a--a jolt. Wait. "

But Pan rushed on out of the shop, and took to the road with the strideof a giant. To be compelled to walk, when if he had had his horse hecould ride that mile in two minutes! His heart was beating high. Mother! Grieving for me. Alice a big girl. And a baby boy! This istoo good for a prodigal like me. 

All else he had forgotten for the moment. Shadows of memories overhunghis consciousness, striving for entrance, but he denied them. Howshaken his father had been at sight of him! Poor old Dad! And thenwhat was the significance of all that talk about his range name, Panhandle Smith, and his father's strange fascinated handling of Pan'sgun? Would his mother know him at first glance? Oh! no doubt of that!But Alice would not; she had been a child; and he had grown, changed. 

While his thoughts raced he kept gazing near and far. The farm landshowed a fair degree of cultivation. Grassy hills shone in the brightmorning sun; high up, flares of gold spoke eloquently of aspen thicketstinged by the frost; purple belts crossing the mountains told offorests. The wall of rock that he had observed from Moran's camp woundaway over the eastern horizon. A new country it was, a fair and wildcountry, rugged and hard on the uplands, suitable for pasture andcultivation in the lowlands. 

Pan passed the first farmhouse. Beyond that he could make out only agreen patch, where he judged lay the home he was hunting. His buoyantstep swallowed up the rods. Cattle and horses grazed in a pasture. The road turned to the right, round the slope of a low hill. Pan'squick eye caught a column of curling blue smoke that rose from a groveof trees. The house would be in there. Pasture, orchard, cornfield, ragged and uncut, a grove of low trees with thick foliage, barns andcorrals he noted with appreciative enthusiasm. The place did not havethe bareness characteristic of a ranch. 

At last Pan reached the wagon gate that led into the farm. It borderedan orchard of fair-sized trees, the leaves of which were colored. Hecut across the orchard so as to reach the house more quickly. It wasstill mostly hidden among the trees. Smell of hay, of fruit, of thebarnyard assailed his nostrils. And then the fragrance of wood smokeand burning leaves! His heart swelled full high in his breast. Hecould never meet his mother with his usual cool easy nonchalance. 

Suddenly he espied a woman through the trees. She was quite close. Healmost ran. No, it could not be his mother. This was a girl, lithe, tall, swift stepping. His mother had been rather short and stout. Could this girl be his sister Alice? The swift supposition was absurd, because Alice was only about ten, and this girl was grown. She had agrace of motion that struck Pan. He hurried around some trees tointercept her, losing sight of her for a moment. 

Suddenly he came out of the shade to confront her, face to face in theopen sunlight. She uttered a cry and dropped something she had beencarrying. 

"Don't be scared, Miss, " he said, happily. "I'm no tramp, though I didrant in like a trespasser. I want to find Mrs. Bill Smith. I'm--"

But Pan got no farther. The girl had reason to be scared, but shouldher hands fly to her bosom like that, and press there as if she hadbeen hurt. He must have frightened her. And he was about to stammerhis apologies and make himself known, when the expression on her facestruck him mute. Her healthy golden skin turned white. Her lipsquivered, opened. Then her eyes--their color was violet and somethingabout them seemed to stab Pan. His mind went into a deadlock--seemedto whirl--and to flash again into magnified thoughts. 

"_Pan! Pan!_" she cried, and moved toward him, her eyes widening, shining with a light he had never seen in another woman's. 

"Pan! Don't you--know me?"

"Sure--but I don't know _who_ you are, " Pan muttered in bewilderment. 

"I'm Lucy! . .. Oh, Pan--you've come back, " she burst out, huskily, with a deep break in her voice. 

She seemed to leap toward him--into the arms he flung wide, as withtremendous shock he recognized her name, her voice, her eyes. It was amoment beyond reason. .. . He was crushing her to his breast, kissingher in a frenzy of sudden realization of love. Lucy! Lucy! LittleLucy Blake, his baby, his child sweetheart, his schoolmate! And thehunger of the long lonely years, never realized, leaped to his lips now. 

She flung her arms round his neck, and for a few moments gave him kissfor kiss. Then suddenly she shivered and her head fell forward on hisbreast. 

Pan held her closely, striving for self-control. And he gazed out intothe trees with blurred eyes. What a home-coming! Lucy, grown into atall beautiful girl who had never forgotten him. He was shaken to hisdepths by the revelation that now came to him. He had always lovedLucy! Never anyone else, never knowing until this precious moment!What a glorious trick for life to play him. He held her, wrapped hercloser, bent his face to her fragrant hair. It was dull gold now. Once it had been bright, shiny, light as the color of grass on thehill. He kissed it, conscious of unutterable gratitude and exaltation. 

She stirred, put her hands to his breast and broke away from him, tragic eyed, strange. 

"Pan, I--I was beside myself, " she whispered. "Forgive me. .. . Oh, thejoy of seeing you. It was too much. .. . Go to your mother. She--will--"

"Yes, presently, but Lucy, don't feel badly about this--about my notrecognizing you at once, " he interrupted, in glad swift eagerness. "How you have grown! Changed! . .. Lucy, your hair is gold now. Mylittle white-headed kid! Oh, I remember. I never forgot you that way. But you're so changed--so--so--Lucy, you're beautiful. .. . I've comeback to you. I always loved you. I didn't know it as I do now, butI've been true to you. Lucy, I swear. .. . I'm Panhandle Smith and aswild as any of that prairie outfit. But, darling, I've been _true_ toyou--_true_. .. . And I've come back to love you, to make up forabsence, to take care of you--marry you. Oh, darling, I know you'vebeen true to me--you've waited for me. "

Rapture and agony both seemed to be struggling for the mastery overLucy. Pan suddenly divined that this was the meaning of her emotion. 

"My God!" she whispered, finally, warding him off. "Don't youknow--haven't you heard?"

"Nothing. Dad didn't mention you, " replied Pan hoarsely, fighting anicy sickening fear. "What's wrong?"

"Go to your mother. Don't let her wait. I'll see you later. "

"But Lucy-"

"Go. Give me a little while to--to get hold of myself. "

"Are--are you married?" he faltered. 

"No-no--but--"

"Don't you love me?"

She made no reply, except to cover her face with shaking hands. Theycould not hide the betraying scarlet. 

"Lucy, you _must_ love me, " he rushed on, almost incoherently. "Yougave yourself away. .. . It lifted me--changed me. All my life I'veloved you, though I never realized it. .. . Your kisses--they made meknow myself. .. . But, my God, say that you love me!"

"Yes, Pan, I do love you, " she replied, quietly, lifting her eyes tohis. Again the rich color fled. 

"Then, nothing else matters, " cried Pan. "Whatever's wrong, I'll makeright. Don't forget that. I've much to make up for. .. . Forgive mefor this--this--whatever has hurt you so. I'll go now to Mother andsee you later. You'll stay?"

"I live here with your people, " replied Lucy and walked away throughthe trees. 

"Something wrong!" muttered Pan, as he watched her go. But the blackfear of he knew not what could not stand before his consciousness offinding Lucy, of seeing her betray her love. Doubt lingered, but hisglad heart downed that too. He was home. What surprise and joy tolearn that it was also Lucy's home! He stifled his intense curiosityand longing. He composed himself. He walked a little under the trees. He thought of the happiness he would bring his mother, and Alice. In afew moments he would make the acquaintance of his baby brother. 

Flowers that he recognized as the favorites of his mother bordered thesandy path around the cabin. The house had been constructed of logsand later improved with a frame addition, unpainted, weather stained, covered with vines. A cozy little porch, with wide eaves and awindbreak of vines, faced the south. A rude homemade rocking chair saton the porch; a child's wooden toys also attested to a carpenter'sskill Pan well remembered. He heard a child singing, then a woman'smellow voice. 

Pan drew a long breath and took off his sombrero. It had come--themoment he had long dreamed of. He stepped loudly upon the porch, sothat his spurs jangled musically, and he knocked upon the door frame. 

"Who's there?" called the voice again. It made Pan's heart beat fast. In deep husky tones he replied:

"Just a poor starved cowboy, Ma'am, beggin' a little grub. "

"Gracious me!" she exclaimed, and her footsteps thudded on the floorinside. 

Pan knew his words would fetch her. Then he saw her come to the door. Years, trouble, pain had wrought their havoc, but he would have knownher at first sight among a thousand women. 

"Mother!" he called, poignantly, and stepped toward her, with his armsout. 

She seemed stricken. The kindly eyes changed, rolled. Her mouthopened wide. She gasped and fainted in his arms. 

A little while later, when she had recovered from the shock and therapture of Pan's return, they sat in the neat little room. 

"Bobby, don't you know your big brother?" Pan was repeating to thebig-eyed boy who regarded him so solemnly. Bobby was fascinated bythis stranger, and at last was induced to approach his knee. 

"Mother, I reckon you'll never let Bobby be a cowboy, " teased Pan, witha smile. 

"Never, " she murmured fervently. 

"Well, he might do worse, " went on Pan thoughtfully. "But we'll make aplain rancher of him, with a leaning to horses. How's that?"

"I'd like it, but not in a wild country like this, " she replied. 

"Reckon we'd do well to figure on a permanent home in Arizona, whereboth summers and winters are pleasant. I've heard a lot about Arizona. It's a land of wonderful grass and sage ranges, fine forests, canyons. We'll go there, some day. "

"Then, Pan, you've come home to stay?" she asked, with agitation. 

"Yes, Mother, " he assured her, squeezing the worn hand that keptreaching to touch him, as if to see if he were real. Then Bobbyengaged his attention. "Hey, you rascal, let go. That's my gun. .. . Bad sign, Mother. Bobby's as keen about a gun as I was over ahorse. .. . There, Bobby, now it's safe to play with. .. . Mother, there's a million things to talk about. But we'll let most of them gofor the present. You say Alice is in school. When will she be home?"

"Late this afternoon. Pan, " she went on, hesitatingly, "Lucy Blakelives with us now. "

"Yes, I met Lucy outside, " replied Pan, drawing a deep breath. "Butfirst about Dad. I didn't take time to talk much with him. I wantedto see you. .. . Is Dad well in health?"

"He's well enough. Really he does two men's work. Worry drags himdown. "

"We'll cheer him up. At Littleton I heard a little about Dad's badluck. Now you tell me everything. "

"There's little to tell, " she replied, sadly. "Your father madefoolish deals back in Texas, the last and biggest of which was withJard Hardman. There came a bad year--_anno seco_, the Mexicans callit. Failure of crops left your father ruined. He lost the farm. Hefound later that Hardman had cheated him out of his cattle. Wefollowed Hardman out here. Our neighbors, the Blakes had come ahead ofus. Hardman not only wouldn't be square about the cattle deal but heknocked your father out again, just as he had another start. In mymind it was worse than the cattle deal. We bought a homestead from aman named Sprague. His wife wanted to go home to Missouri. Thishomestead had water, good soil, some timber, and an undeveloped miningclaim that turned out well. Then along comes Jard Hardman with claims, papers, witnesses, and law back of him. He claimed to have gottenpossession of the homestead from the original owner. It was all a lie. But they put us off. .. . Then your father tried several things that didnot pan out. Now we're here--and he has to work in the wagon shop topay the rent. "

"Ah-huh!" replied Pan, relieving his oppressed breast with an effort. "And now about Lucy. How does it come she's living with you?"

"She had no home, poor girl, " replied his mother, hastily. "She cameout here with her father and uncle. Her mother died soon after youleft us. Jim Blake had interests with Hardman back in Texas. Hetalked big--and drank a good deal. He and Hardman quarreled. It wasthe same big deal that ruined your father. But Jim came to New Mexicowith Hardman. They were getting along all right when we arrived. But, trouble soon arose--and that over Lucy. .. . Young Dick Hardman--youcertainly ought to remember him, Pan--fell madly in love with Lucy. Dick always was a wild boy. Here in Marco he went the pace. Well, badas Jard Hardman is he loves that boy and would move heaven and earthfor him. Lucy despised Dick. The more he ran after her the more shedespised him. Also the more she flouted Dick the wilder he drank andgambled. Now here comes the pitiful part of it. Jim Blake wentutterly to the bad, so your father says, though Lucy hopes and believesshe can save him. I do too. Jim was only weak. Jard Hardman ruinedhim. Finally Dick enlisted his father in his cause and they forced Jimto try to make Lucy marry Dick. She refused. She left her father'splace and went to live with her Uncle Bill, who was an honest fine man. But he was shot in the Yellow Mine. By accident, they gave out, butyour father scouts that idea. .. Oh, those dreadful gambling hells!Life is cheap here. .. . Lucy came to live with us. She taught theschool. But she had to give that up. Dick Hardman and other wildyoung fellows made her life wretched. Besides she was never safe. Wepersuaded her to give it up. And then the--the worst happened. "

Mrs. Smith paused, wiping her wet eyes, and appeared to dread furtherdisclosure. She lifted an appealing hand to Pan. 

"What--what was it, Mother?" he asked, fearfully. 

"Didn't--she--Lucy tell you anything?" faltered his mother. 

"Yes--the greatest thing in the world--that she loved me, " burst outPan with exultant passion. 

"Oh, how terrible!"

"No, Mother, not that, but beautiful, wonderful, glorious. .. . Go on. "

"Then--then they put Jim Blake in jail, " began Mrs. Smith. 

"What for?" flashed Pan. 

"To hold him there, pending action back in Texas. Jim Blake was acattle thief. There's little doubt of that, your father says. Youknow there's law back east, at least now in some districts. Well, JardHardman is holding Jim in jail. It seems Hardman will waive trial, provided--provided. .. . Oh, how can I tell you!"

"My God! I see!" cried Pan, leaping in fierce passion. "They will tryto force Lucy to marry Dick to save her father. "

"Yes. That's it . .. And Pan, my son . .. She has consented!"

"So that was what made her act so strange! . .. Poor Lucy! DickHardman was a skunk when he was a kid. Now he's a skunk-bitten coyote. Oh, but this is a mess!"

"Pan, what _can_ you do?" implored his mother. 

"Lucy _hasn't_ married him yet? Tell me quick, " cried Pan suddenly. 

"Oh, no. She has only promised. She doesn't trust those men. Shewants papers signed to clear her father. They laugh at her. But Lucyis no fool. When she sacrifices herself it'll not be for nothing. "

Pan slowly sank down into the chair, and his brooding gaze fastened onthe big blue gun with which Bobby was playing. It fascinated Pan. Sight of it brought the strange cold sensation that seemed like a windthrough his being. 

"Mother, how old is Lucy?" he asked, forcing himself to be calm. 

"She's nearly seventeen, but looks older. "

"Not of age yet. Yes, she looks twenty. She's a woman, Mother. "

"What did Lucy do and say when she saw you?" asked his mother, with awoman's intense curiosity. 

"Ha! She did and said enough, " replied Pan radiantly. "I didn'trecognize her. Think of that, Mother. "

"Tell me, son, " implored Mrs. Smith. 

"Mother, she ran right into my arms. .. . We just met, Mother, and theold love leaped. "

"Mercy, what a terrible situation for you both, especially for Lucy. .. . Pan, what _can_ you do?"

"Mother, I don't know, I can't think. It's too sudden. But I'll neverlet her marry Dick Hardman. Why, only last night I saw a paintedlittle hussy hanging over him. Bad as that poor girl must be, she'stoo good for him. .. . _He_ doesn't worry me, nor his schemes to getLucy. But how to save Jim Blake. "

"Pan, you think it can be done?"

"My dear Mother, I know it. Only I can't think now. I'm new here. And handicapped by concern for you, for Lucy, for Dad. .. . Lord, if Iwas back in the Cimarron--it'd be easy!"

"My boy, don't be too concerned about Lucy, or me or your dad, " repliedhis mother with surprising coolness. "I mean don't let concern for usbalk you. Thank God you have come home to us. I feel a differentwoman. I am frightened, yes. For--for I've heard of you. What a namefor my boy!"

"Well, you're game, Mother, " said Pan, with a laugh, as he embracedher. "That'll help a lot. If only Lucy will be like you. "

"She has a heart of fire. Only save her father, Pan, and you will beblessed with such woman's love as you never dreamed of. It may behard, though, for you to change her mind. "

"I won't try, Mother. "

"Go to her, then, and fill her with the hope you've given me. "

CHAPTER SEVEN

From a thick clump of trees Pan had watched Lucy, spied upon her withonly love, tenderness, pity in his heart. But he did not know her. Itseemed incredible that he could confess to himself he loved her. Hadthe love he had cherished for a child suddenly, as if by magic, leapedinto love for a woman? What then was this storm within him, thisoutward bodily trembling from the tumult within?

Lucy stood like a statue, gazing into nothingness. Then she paced toand fro, her hands clenched on her breast. This was a secluded nook, where a bench had been built between two low-branching trees, on thebank of the stream. Pan stealthily slipped closer, so he could getclearer sight of her face. Was her love for him the cause of heremotion?

Presently he halted, at a point close to one end of her walk, andcrouched down. It did not occur to him that he was trespassing uponher privacy. She was a stranger whom he loved because she was LucyBlake, grown from child to woman. He was concerned with findinghimself, so that when he faced her again he would know what to do, tosay. 

Pan had not encountered a great many girls in the years he had riddenthe ranges. But he had seen enough to recognize beauty when it wasthrust upon him. And Lucy had that. As she paced away from him thesmall gold head, the heavy braid of hair, the fine build of her, notrobust, yet strong and full, answered then and there the wonderingquery of his admiration. Then she turned to pace back. This would bean ordeal for him. She was in trouble, and he could not hide theremuch longer. Yet he wanted to watch her, to grasp from this agitationfuel for his kindling passion. She had been weeping, yet her face waswhite. Indeed she did look older than her seventeen years. Closer shecame. Then Pan's gaze got as far as her eyes and fixed there. Unmasked now, true to the strife of her soul, they betrayed to Pan thething he yearned so to know. Not only her love but her revolt!

That was enough for him. In a few seconds his feelings underwent atremendous gamut of change, at last to set with the certainty of aman's love for his one woman. This conviction seemed consciouslybacked by the stern fact of his cool reckless spirit. He was what thecowboys' range of that period had made him. Perhaps only such a mancould cope with the lawless circumstances in which Lucy had becomeenmeshed. By the time she had paced her beat again and was once moreapproaching his covert, he knew what the situation would demand and howhe would meet it. But he would listen to Lucy, to his mother, to hisfather, in the hope that they might extricate her from her dilemma. Hebelieved, however, that only extreme measures would ever free her andher father. Pan knew men of the Hardman and Matthews stripe. 

He stepped out to confront Lucy, smiling and cool. 

"Howdy, Lucy, " he drawled, with the cowboy sang-froid she must knowwell. 

"Oh!" she cried, startled, and drawing back. Then she recovered. Butthere was a single instant when Pan saw her unguarded self expressed inher face. 

"I was hiding behind there, " he said, indicating the trees and bushes. 

"What for?"

"I wanted to _see_ you really, without you knowing. "

"Well?" she queried, gravely. 

"As I remember little Lucy Blake she never had any promise of growingso--so lovely as you are now. "

"Pan, don't tease--don't flatter me now, " she implored. 

"Reckon I was just stating a fact. Let's sit down on the seat there, and get acquainted. "

He put her in the corner of the bench so she would have to face him, and he began to talk as if there were no black trouble between them. He wanted her to know the story of his life from the time she had seenhim last; and he had two reasons for this, first to bridge that gap intheir acquaintance, and secondly to let her know what the range hadmade him. It took him two hours in the telling, surely the sweetesthours he had ever spent, for he watched her warm to intense interest, forget herself, live over with him the lonely days and nights on therange, and glow radiant at his adventures, and pale and trembling overthose bloody encounters that were as much a part of his experience asany others. 

"That's my story, Lucy, " he said, in conclusion. "I'd have come backto you and home long ago, if I'd known. But I was always broke. Thenthere was the talk about me. Panhandle Smith! So the years sped by. It's over now, and I've found you and my people all well, thank God. Nothing else mattered to me. And your trouble and Dad's bad luck donot scare me. .. . Now tell me your story. "

He had reached her. It had been wise for him to go back to the schooldays, and spare nothing of his experience. She began at the time shesaw him last--she remembered the day, the date, the clothes he wore, the horse he rode--and she told the story of those lonely years whenhis few letters were epochs, and the effect it had when they ceased. So, with simple directness, she went on to relate the downfall of herfather and how the disgrace and heartbreak had killed her mother. Whenshe finished her story she was crying. 

"Lucy, don't cry. Just think--here we are!" he exclaimed, as she ended. 

"That's what--makes me cry, " she replied brokenly. 

"Very well. Here. Cry on my shoulder, " he said forcefully, anddespite her resistance he drew her into his arms and her head to hisbreast. There he held her, feeling the strain of her muscles slowlyrelax. She did not weep violently, but in a heartbroken way that yetseemed relief. 

"Pan, this is--is foolish, " she said, presently stirring. "I mean mycrying here in your arms, as if it were a refuge. But, oh! I--I haveneeded someone--something so terribly. "

"I don't see where it's foolish. Reckon it's very sweet and wonderfulfor me. .. . Lucy, let's not rush right into arguments. We're bound todisagree. But let's put that off. .. . I'm so darned glad to see you, _know_ you, that I'm the foolish one. "

"You're a boy, for all your size. How can we help but talk of mytroubles? . .. Of this horrible fix I'm in! . .. How can I lay my headon your shoulder? . .. I didn't. You forced me to. "

"Well, if you want to deny me such happiness, you can, " replied Pan. 

"Is it happiness for you--knowing it's wrong--and can never be again?"she whispered. 

"Pure heaven!" he said. "Lucy, don't say this is wrong. You belong to_me_. My mother told me once you'd never have lived but for me. "

"Yes, my mother told me the same thing. .. . Oh, how sad it is!"

"Sad, nothing! It was beautiful. And I tell you that you do belong tome. "

"My soul does, yes, " she returned, dreamily. And then as if remindedof her bodily weakness she moved away from him to the corner of thebench. 

"All right, Lucy. Have it your way now. But you'll only have all themore to make up to me later, " said Pan, with resigned good nature. 

"Pan, you don't seem to recognize anything but your own will, " shereturned, pondering. "I've _got_ to save my father. .. . There's onlyone way. "

"Don't talk such rot to me, " he flashed, sharply. "I'd hoped you wouldlet us get acquainted first. But if you won't, all right. .. . You'vebeen frightened into a deal that is terrible for you. No wonder. Butyou're only a kid yet. What do you know of men? These Hardmans arecrooked. They pulled out of Texas because they were crooked. Matthews, magistrate or marshal, whatever he calls himself, he'scrooked too. I _know_ such men. I've met a hundred of them. Slowlythey've been forced farther west, beyond the Rockies. And here theywork their will. But it can't last. Why, Lucy, I'm amazed that someminer or cowboy or gun-fighter hasn't stopped them long ago. "

"Pan, you must be wrong, " she declared, earnestly. "Hardman cheatedDad, yes. But that was only Dad's fault. His blindness in business. Hardman is a power here. And Matthews, too. You talk like a--a wildcowboy. "

"Sure, " replied Pan, with a grim laugh. "And it'll take just a wildcowboy to clean up this mess. .. . Now Lucy, don't go white and sick. Ipromise you I'll listen to Dad and you before I make a move. I'll goto see your father. And I'll call on Hardman. I'll talk sense andreason, and business to these men. I know it'll not amount to beans, but I'll do it just to show you I can be deliberate and sane. "

"Thank you--you frightened me so, " she murmured. "Pan, there wassomething terrible about you--then. "

"Listen, Lucy, " he began, more seriously. "I've been here in Marcoonly a few hours. But this country is no place for us to settle downto live. It's mostly a mining country. I've heard a lot aboutArizona. I'm going to take you all down there. Dad and Mother willlove the idea. I'll get your father out of jail--"

"Pan, are you dreaming?" she interrupted, in distress. "Dad is arustler. He admits it. Back in Texas he can be jailed for years. AllHardman has to do is to send for officers to come take Dad. And I'vegot to marry Dick Hardman to save him. "

"You poor little girl! . .. Now Lucy, let me tell you something funny. This will stagger you. Because it's gospel truth, I swear. .. . Rustleryou call your dad. What's that? It means a cowman who hasappropriated cattle not his own. He has driven off unbranded stock andbranded it. There's no difference. Lucy, my dad rustled cattle. Sohave all the ranchers I ever rode for. "

"Pan!" she gasped, with dilating eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm trying to tell you one of the queer facts about the ranges, "replied Pan. "I've known cowmen to shoot rustlers. Cowmen who hadthemselves branded cattle not their own. This was a practice. Theydidn't think it crooked. They all did it. But it _was_ crooked, whenyou come down to truth. And though that may not be legally as criminalas the stealing of branded cattle, to my mind it is just as bad. Yourfather began that way, Hardman caught him, and perhaps forced him intoworse practice. "

"Pan, are you trying to give me some hope?"

"Reckon I am. Things are not so bad. My Lord, suppose I'd been amonth later!"

Lucy shook her head despondently. "It's worse _now_ for me than if youhad come--"

"Why?" interrupted Pan. She would say the things that hurt. 

"Because to see you--be with you like this--before I'm--if I have to bemarried--is perfectly terrible. .. . Afterward, when it would be toolate and I had lost something--self-respect or more--then I might notcare. "

That not only made Pan lose patience but it also angered him. The hotblood rushed to his face. He bit his tongue and struggled to controlhimself. 

"Lucy! Haven't I told you that you're not going to marry DickHardman, " he burst out. 

"Oh, but I'll have to, " she replied, stubbornly, with a sad littleshake of her head. 

"No!"

"I must save Dad. You might indeed get him out of jail some way. Butthat would not save him. "

"Certainly it would, " rejoined Pan, curtly. "In another state he wouldbe perfectly safe. "

"They'll trail him anywhere. No, that won't do. We haven't time. Dick is pressing me hard to marry him at once, or his father willprosecute Dad. I promised. .. . And today--this morning--Dick is cominghere to get me to set the day. "

"_What?_" cried Pan, passionately. 

His word, swift as a bullet, made her jump, but she repeated what shehad said almost word for word. 

"And your answer?" queried Pan, in hot scorn. 

"Sooner the--better, " she replied, mournfully. "I can'tstand--this--you--oh, anything would be--easier than your hope . .. Your--love making!"

"Lucy Blake, have _you_ gone down hill like your father?" asked Pan, hoarsely. "What kind of a woman are you? If you love me, it's a crimeto marry him. Women do these things, I know--sell themselves. Butthey kill their souls. If you could save your father from beinghanged, it would still be wrong. Suppose he _did_ go to jail for a fewyears. What's that compared to hell for you all your life? You're outof your head. You've lost your sense of proportion. .. . You must_care_ for this damned skunk Dick Hardman. "

"Care for him!" she cried, shamefaced and furious. "I hate him. "

"Then if you marry him you'll be crooked. To yourself! To me!. .. Why, in my eyes you'd be worse than that little hussy down at theYellow Mine. "

"Pan!" she whispered. "How can you? How dare you?"

"Hard facts deserve hard names. You make me say such things. Why, you'd drive me mad if I listened--if I believed you. Don't you daresay again you'll marry Dick. "

"I will--I must--"

"Lucy!" he thundered. It was no use to reason with this girl. She hadbeen trapped like a wild thing and could not see any way out. He shotout a strong hand and clutched her shoulder and with one heave he drewher to him, so her face was under his. It went pale. The telltaleeyes dilated in sudden fear. She beat at him with weak flutteringhands. 

"_Say you love me!_"

He shook her roughly, then held her tight. "I don't maul any otherman's woman, " he went on, fiercely. "But if you love me--that'sdifferent. You said it a little while ago. Was it true? Are you aliar?"

"No--No--Pan, " she whispered, in distress. "I--I do. "

"Do what?"

"I--I love you, " she said, the scarlet blood mounting to her pale face. She was weakening--sinking toward him. Her eyes held a sort of darkspell. 

"How do you love me?" he queried relentlessly, with his heart mountinghigh. 

"Always I've loved you--since I was a baby. "

"As a brother?"

"Yes. "

"But we're man and woman now. This is my one chance for happiness. Idon't want you--I wouldn't have you unless you love me as I do you. Behonest with me. Be square. Do you love me now as I do you?"

"God help me--yes, " she replied, almost inaudibly, with eyes of remorseand love and agony on his. 

Pan could not withstand this. He crushed her to him, and lifted herarms round his neck, and fell to kissing her with all the starvedhunger of his lonely loveless years on the ranges. She was not proofagainst this. It lifted her out of her weakness, of her abasement to aresponse that swept away all fears, doubts, troubles. For the moment, at least, love conquered her. 

Pan was wrenched out of the ecstasy of that moment by the pound ofhoofs and the crashing of brush. He could not disengage himself beforea horse and rider were upon them. Nevertheless Pan recognized theintruder and leaped away from the bench with the instinctive swiftnessfor defense that had been ingrained in him. 

Dick Hardman showed the most abject astonishment. His eyes stuck out, his jaw dropped. No other emotion seemed yet to have dawned in him. He stared from Lucy to Pan and back again. A slow dull red began tocreep into his cheeks. He ejaculated something incoherent. His amazeswiftly grew into horror. He had caught his fiancée in the arms ofanother man. Black fury suddenly possessed him. 

"You--you--" he yelled stridently, moving to dismount. 

"Stay on your horse, " commanded Pan. 

"Who the hell are you?" bellowed Hardman, sliding back in the saddle. 

"Howdy, Skunk Hardman, " rejoined Pan, with cool impudence. "Reckon youought to know me. "

"Pan Smith!" gasped the other, hoarsely, and he turned lividly white. "By God, I knew you last night. But I couldn't place you. "

"Well, Mr. Dick Hardman, I knew you the instant I set eyes onyou--sitting there gambling--with the pretty bare-armed girl on yourchair, " returned Pan, with slow deliberate sarcasm. 

"Yes, and you got that little ---- over to you about as quick, " shoutedHardman. 

"Be careful of your language. There's a lady present, " replied Pan, menacingly. 

"Of all the nerve! You--you damned cowpuncher, " raved Hardman in afury. "It didn't take you long to get to _her_, either, did it? Nowyou make tracks out of here or I'll--I'll--it'll be the worse for you, Pan Smith. .. . Lucy Blake is as good as married to me. "

"Nope, you're wrong, Dick, " snapped Pan insolently. "I got here justin time to save her from that doubtful honor. "

"You'd break her engagement to me?" rasped Hardman huskily, and heactually shook in his saddle. 

"I have broken it. "

"Lucy, tell me he lies!" begged Hardman, turning to her in poignantdistress. If he had any good in him it showed then. 

Lucy came out from the shade of the tree into the sunlight. She waspale, but composed. 

"Dick, it's true, " she said, steadily. "I've broken my word. I can'tmarry you. .. . I love Pan. I've loved him always. It would be a sinto marry you now. "

"_Hellsfire!_" shrieked Hardman. His face grew frightful tosee--beastly with rage. "You're as bad as that hussy who threw me downfor him. I'll fix you, Lucy Blake. And I'll put your cow-thief fatherbehind the bars for life. "

Pan leaped at Hardman and struck him a body blow that sent him tumblingout of his saddle to thud on the ground. The frightened horse ran downthe path toward the gate. 

"You dirty-mouthed cur, " said Pan. "Get up, and if you've got agun--throw it. "

Hardman laboriously got to his feet. The breath had been partlyknocked out of him. Baleful eyes rolled at Pan. Instinctive wrath, however, had been given a setback. Hardman had been forced to think ofsomething beside the frustration of his imperious will. 

"I'm--not--packing--my gun, " he panted, heavily. "You saw--that--PanSmith. "

"Well, you'd better pack it after this, " replied Pan with contempt. "Because I'm liable to throw on you at sight. "

"I'll have--you--run--out of this country, " replied Dick huskily. 

"Bah! don't waste your breath. Run me out of this country? Me!Reckon you never heard of Panhandle Smith. You're so thickheaded youcouldn't take a hunch. Well, I'll give you one, anyway. You and yourcrooked father, and your two bit of a sheriff pardner would do well toleave this country. Savvy that! Now get out of here pronto. "

Hardman gave Pan a ghastly stare and wheeled away to stride down thepath. Once he turned to flash his convulsed face at Lucy. Then hepassed out of sight among the trees in search of his horse. 

Pan stood gazing down the green aisle. He had acted true to himself. How impossible to meet this situation in any other way! It meant thespilling of blood. He knew it--accepted it--and made no attempt tochange the cold passion deep within him. Lucy--his mother and fatherwould suffer. But wouldn't they suffer more if he did not confrontthis conflict as his hard training dictated? He was almost afraid toturn and look at Lucy. Just a little while before he had promised herforbearance. So his amaze was great when she faced him, violet eyesablaze, to clasp him, and creep close to him, with lingering traces offear giving way to woman's admiration and love. 

"Panhandle Smith!" she whispered, gazing up into his face. "I heardyour story. It thrilled me. .. . But I never understood--till you facedDick Hardman. .. . Oh, what have you done for me? . .. Oh, Pan, you havesaved me from ruin. "

CHAPTER EIGHT

Pan and Lucy did not realize the passing of time until they were calledto dinner. As they stepped upon the little porch, Lucy tried towithdraw her hand from Pan's, but did not succeed. 

"See here, " said he, very seriously, yielding to an urge he could notresist. "Wouldn't it be wise for us to--to get married at once?"

Lucy blushed furiously. "Pan Smith! Are you crazy?"

"Reckon I am, " he replied, ruefully. "But I got to thinking how I'llbe out after wild horses. .. . And I'm afraid something might happen. Please marry me this afternoon?"

"Pan! You're--you're terrible, " cried Lucy, and snatching away herhand, scarlet of face she rushed into the house ahead of him. 

He followed, to find Lucy gone. His father was smiling, and his motherhad wide-open hopeful eyes. A slim young girl, with freckles, gravesweet eyes and curly hair was standing by a window. She turned anddevoured him with those shy eyes. From that look he knew who she was. 

"Alice! Little sister!" he exclaimed, meeting her. "Well, by golly, this is great. "

It did not take long for Pan to grasp that a subtle change had comeover his mother and father. Not the excitement of his presence nor thewonder about Lucy accounted for it, but a difference, a lessening ofstrain, a relief. Pan sensed a reliance upon him that they were notyet conscious of. 

"Son, what was the matter with Lucy?" inquired his father, shrewdly. 

"Why nothing to speak of, " replied Pan, nonchalantly. "Reckon she wasa little flustered because I wanted her to marry me this afternoon. "

"Good gracious!" cried his mother. "You are a cowboy. Lucy marry youwhen she's engaged to another man!"

"Mother, dear, that's broken off. Don't remind me of it. I want tolook pleasant, so you'll all be glad I'm home. "

"Glad!" his mother laughed, with a catch in her voice. "My prayershave been answered. .. . Come now to dinner. Remember, Pan, when youused to yell, 'Come an' get it before I throw it out'?"

Bobby left Pan's knee and made a beeline for the kitchen. Alice racedafter him. 

"Pan, I met Dick Hardman on the road. He looked like hell, and wassure punishin' his horse. I said when I seen him I'd bet he's run intoPan. How about it?"

"Reckon he did, " laughed Pan. "It was pretty tough on him, I'm boundto admit. He rode down the path and caught me--well, the truth is, Dad, I was kissing the young lady he imagined belonged to him. "

"You range ridin' son-of-a-gun!" ejaculated his father, in unmitigatedadmiration and gladness. "What come off?"

"I'll tell you after dinner. Gee, I smell applesauce! . .. Dad, Inever forgot Mother's cooking. "

They went into the little whitewashed kitchen, where Pan had to stoopto avoid the ceiling, and took seats at the table. Pan feasted hiseyes. His mother had not been idle during the hours that he was out inthe orchard with Lucy, nor had she forgotten the things that he hadalways liked. Alice acted as waitress, and Bobby sat in a high chairbeaming upon Pan. At that juncture Lucy came in. She had changed hergray blouse to one of white, with wide collar that was cut a little lowand showed the golden contour of her superb neck. She had put her hairup. Pan could not take his eyes off her. In hers he saw a dancingsubdued light, and a beautiful rose color in her cheeks. 

"Well, I've got to eat, " said Pan, as if by way of explanation andexcuse for removing his gaze from this radiant picture. 

Thus his home coming proved to be a happier event than he had everdared to hope for. Lucy was quiet and ate but little. At times Pancaught her stealing a glimpse at him, and each time she blushed. Shecould not meet his eyes again. Alice too stole shy glances at him, wondering, loving. Bobby was hungry, but he did not forget that Pansat across from him. Mrs. Smith watched Pan with an expression thatwould have pained him had he allowed remorse to come back then. Andhis father was funny. He tried to be natural, to meet Pan on a planeof the old western insouciance, but it was impossible. No doubt suchhappiness had not reigned in that household for years. 

"Dad, let's go out and have a talk, " proposed Pan, after dinner. 

As they walked down toward the corrals Pan's father was silent, yet itwas clear he labored with suppressed feeling. 

"All right, fire away, " he burst out at last, "but first tell me, forGawd's sake, how'd you do it?"

"What?" queried Pan, looking round from his survey of the farm land. 

"Mother! She's _well_. She wasn't well at all, " exclaimed the olderman, breathing hard. "An' that girl! Did you ever see such eyes?"

"Reckon I never did, " replied Pan, with joyous bluntness. 

"This mornin' I left Lucy crushed. Her eyes were like lead. An'now!. .. Pan, I'm thankin' God for them. But tell me how'd you do it?"

"Dad, I don't know women very well, but I reckon they live by theirhearts. You can bet that happiness for them means a lot to me. I feltpretty low down. That's gone. I could crow like Bobby . .. But, Dad, I've a big job on my hands, and I think I'm equal to it. Are you goingto oppose me?"

"Hell, no!" spat out his father, losing his pipe in his vehemence. "Son, I lost my cattle, my ranch. An' then my nerve. I'm not makin'excuses. I just fell down . .. But I'm not too old to make anotherstart with you to steer me. "

"Good!" replied Pan with strong feeling, and he laid a hand on hisfather's shoulder. They halted by the open corral. "Then let's getright down to straight poker. "

"Play your game, Pan. I'm sure curious. "

"First off then--we don't want to settle in this country. "

"Pan, you've called me right on the first hand, " declared his father, cracking his fist on the corral gate. "I know this's no country forthe Smiths. But I followed Jard Hardman here, I hoped to----"

"Never mind explanations, Dad, " interrupted Pan. "We're looking to thefuture. We won't settle here. We'll go to Arizona. I had a pard whocame from Arizona. All day long and half the night that broncho busterwould rave about Arizona. Well, he won me over. Arizona must bewonderful. "

"But Pan, isn't it desert country?"

"Arizona is every kind of country, " replied Pan earnestly. "It's a bigterritory, Dad. Pretty wild yet, too, but not like these mining claimcountries, with their Yellow Mines. Arizona is getting settlers in thevalleys where there's water and grass. Lots of fine pine timber thatwill be valuable some day. I know just where we'll strike for. But weneedn't waste time talking about that now. If it suits you the thingis settled. We go to Arizona. "

"Fine, Pan, " said his father rubbing his hands. Pan had struck firefrom him. "_When_ will we go?"

"That's to decide, " answered Pan, thoughtfully. "I've got some money. Not much. But we could get there and start on it. I believe, though, that we'd do better to stay here--this fall anyway--and round up abunch of these wild horses. Five hundred horses, a thousand at twelvedollars a head--why, Dad, it would start us in a big way. "

"Son, I should smile it would, " returned Smith, with fiery enthusiasm. "But can you do it?"

"Dad, if these broomies are as thick as I hear they are I sure can makea stake. Last night I fell in with two cowboys--Blinky Moran and GusHans. They're chasing wild horses, and want me to throw in with them. Now with you and maybe a couple of more riders we can make a big drive. You've got to know the tricks. I learned a heap from a Mormonwild-horse wrangler. If these broomtails are thick here--well, I don'twant to set your hopes too high. But wait till I show you. "

"Pan, there's ten thousand wild horses in that one valley across themountain there. Hot Springs Valley they call it. "

"Then, by George, we've got to take the risk, " declared Pan decisively. 

"Risk of what?"

"Trouble with that Hardman outfit. It can't be avoided. I'd have tobluff them out or fight them down, right off. Dick is a yellow skunk. Jard Hardman is a bad man in any pinch. But not on an even break. Idon't mean that. If _that_ were all. But he's treacherous. And hishenchman, this two bit of a sheriff, he's no man to face you on thesquare. I'll swear he can be bluffed. Has he any reputation as a gunthrower?"

"Matthews? I never heard of it, if he had. But he brags a lot. He'sbeen in several fracases here, with drunken miners an' Mexicans. He'skilled a couple of men since I've been here. "

"Ah-huh, just what I thought, " declared Pan, in cool contempt. "I'llbet a hundred he elected himself town marshal, as he calls it. I'llbet he hasn't any law papers from the territory, or government, either. .. . Jard Hardman will be the hard nut to crack. Now, Dad, backin Littleton I learned what he did to you. And Lucy's story gave meanother angle on that. It's pretty hard to overlook. I'm not swearingI can do so. But I'd like to know how you feel about it. "

"Son, I'd be scared to tell you, " replied Smith in husky voice, dropping his head. 

"You needn't, Dad. We'll stay here till we catch and sell a bunch ofhorses, " said Pan curtly. "Can you quit your job at the wagon shop?"

"Any time--an' Lord, won't I be glad to do it, " returned Smithfervently. 

"Well, you quit just then, " remarked Pan dryly. "So much issettled. .. . Dad, I've got to get Jim Blake out of that jail. "

"I reckon so. It might be a job an' then again it mightn't. Dependson Jim. An' between you an' me, Pan, I've no confidence in Jim. "

"That doesn't make any difference. I've got to get him out and sendhim away. Head him for Arizona where we're going. .. . Is it a realjail?"

"Dobe mud an' stones, " replied his father. "An Indian or a real mancould break out of there any night. There are three guards, who changeoff every eight hours. One of them is a tough customer. Name's Hill. He used to be an outlaw. The other two are lazy loafers round town. 

"Anybody but Jim in just now?"

"I don't know. Matthews jailed a woman not long ago. He arrestssomebody every day or so. "

"Where is this calaboose belonging to Mr. Matthews?"

"You passed it on the way out, Pan. Off the road. Gray flat buildin'. Let's see. It's the third place from the wagon shop, same side. "

"All right, Dad, " said Pan with cheerful finality. "Let's go back tothe house and talk Arizona to Lucy and Mother for a little. Then I'llrustle along toward town. Tomorrow you come over to the boys' camp. It's on the other side of town, in a cedar flat, up that slope. We'vegot horses to try out and saddles to buy. "

CHAPTER NINE

As Pan strode back along the road toward Marco the whole world seemedto have changed. 

For a few moments he indulged his old joy in range and mountain, stretching, rising on his right, away into the purple distance. Something had heightened its beauty. How softly gray the rolling rangeland--how black the timbered slopes! The town before him sat like ahideous blotch on a fair landscape. It forced his gaze over and beyondtoward the west, where the late afternoon sun had begun to mellow andredden, edging the clouds with exquisite light. To the southward layArizona, land of painted mesas and storied canyon walls, of thunderingstreams and wild pine forests, of purple-saged valleys and grassyparks, set like mosaics between the stark desert mountains. 

But his mind soon reverted to the business at hand. It was much to hisliking. Many a time he had gone to extremes, reckless and fun loving, in the interest of some cowboy who had gotten into durance vile. Itwas the way of his class. A few were strong and many were weak, butall of them held a constancy of purpose as to their calling. As theyhated wire fences so they hated notoriety-seeking sheriffs andunlicensed jails. No doubt Jard Hardman, who backed the Yellow Mine, was also behind the jail. At least Matthews pocketed the ill-gottengains from offenders of the peace as constituted by himself. 

Pan felt that now for the first time in his life he had a mightyincentive, something tremendous and calling, to bring out that spiritof fire common to the daredevils of the range. He had touched only thelast fringe of the cowboy regime. Dodge and Abilene, the old ChisholmTrail, the hard-drinking hard-shooting days of an earlier Cimarron hadgone. Life then had been but the chance of a card, the wink of an eye, the flip of a quirt. But Pan had ridden and slept with men who hadseen those days. He had absorbed from them, and to him had come alater period, not comparable in any sense, yet rough, free, untamed andstill bloody. He knew how to play his cards against such men as these. The more boldly he faced them, the more menacingly he went out of hisway to meet them, the greater would be his advantage. If Matthews wereanother Hickok the situation would have been vastly different. Ifthere were any real fighting men on Hardman's side Pan would recognizethem in a single glance. He was an unknown quantity to them, that mostirritating of newcomers to a wild place, the man with a name precedinghim. 

Pan came abreast of the building that he was seeking. It was partstone and part adobe, heavily and crudely built, with no windows on theside facing him. Approaching it, and turning the corner, he saw awide-arched door leading into a small stone-floored room. He heardvoices. In a couple of long strides Pan crossed the flat threshold. Two men were playing cards with a greasy deck, a bottle of liquor andsmall glasses on the table between them. The one whose back was turnedto Pan did not see him, but the other man jerked up from his bench, then sagged back with strangely altering expression. He was young, dark, coarse, and he had a bullet hole in his chin. 

Pan's recognition did not lag behind the other's. This was Handy MacNew, late of Montana, a cowboy who had drifted beyond the pale. He wasone of that innumerable band whom Pan had helped in some way or other. Handy had become a horse thief and a suspected murderer in the yearfollowing Pan's acquaintance with him. 

"Howdy, men, " Pan greeted them, giving no sign that he had recognizedMac New. "Which one of you is on guard here?"

"Me, " replied Mac New, choking over the word. Slowly he got to hisfeet. 

"You've got a prisoner in there named Blake, " went on Pan. "I oncelived near him. He used to play horse with me and ride me on his back. Will you let me talk to him?"

"Why, shore, stranger, " replied Mac New, with nervous haste, andproducing a key, he inserted it in the lock of a heavy whitewashed door. 

Pan found himself ushered into a large room with small iron-barredwindows on the west side. His experience of frontier jails had beenlimited, but those he had seen had been bare, empty, squalid cells. This, however, was evidently a luxurious kind of a prison house. Therewere Indian blankets and rugs on the floor, an open fireplace withcheerful blaze, a table littered with books and papers, a washstand, acomfortable bed upon which reclined a man smoking and reading. 

"Somebody to see you, Blake, " called the guard, and he went out, shutting the door behind him. 

Blake sat up. As he did so, moving his bootless feet, Pan's keen eyeespied a bottle on the floor. 

Pan approached leisurely, his swift thoughts revolving around asituation that looked peculiar to him. Blake was very much bettercared for there than could have been expected. Why?

"Howdy, Blake. Do you remember me?" asked Pan halting beside the table. 

He did not in the least remember Lucy's father in this heavy blond man, lax of body and sodden of face. 

"Somethin' familiar aboot you, " replied Blake, studying Pan intently. "But I reckon you've got the best of me. "

"Pan Smith, " said Pan shortly. 

"Wal!" he ejaculated, as if shocked into memory, and slowly he rose tohold out a shaking hand. "Bill's kid--the little boy who stuck by mywife--when Lucy was born. "

"Same boy, and he's damn sorry to find you in this fix, " responded Pan, forcefully. "And he's here to get you out. "

Blake sagged back as slowly as he had arisen. His face changed likethat of a man suddenly stabbed. And he dropped his head. In thatmoment Pan saw enough to make him glad. Manifestly the good in him hadnot been wholly killed by evil. Jim Blake might yet be reclaimed or atleast led away from evil life. 

"Mr. Blake, I've been to see Lucy, " went on Pan, and swiftly he talkedof the girl, her unhappiness, and the faith she still held in herfather. "I've come to get you out of here, for Lucy's sake. We're allgoing to Arizona. You and Dad can make a new start in life. "

"My God, if I only could, " groaned the man. 

Pan reached out with quick hand and shook him. "Listen, " he said, lowand eagerly. "How long is this guard Mac New on duty?"

"Mac New? The fellow outside is called Hurd. He's on till midnight. "

"All right, my mistake, " went on Pan, swiftly. "I'll be here tonightabout eleven. I'll have a horse for you, blanket, grub, gun, andmoney. I'll hold up this guard Hurd--get you out some way or other. You're to ride away. Take the road south. There are other miningcamps. You'll not be followed. Make for Siccane, Arizona. "

"Siccane, Arizona, " echoed Blake, as a man in a dream of freedom. 

"Yes, Siccane. Don't forget it. Stay there till we all come. "

Pan straightened up, with deep expulsion of breath, and tinglingnerves. He had reached Blake. Whatever his doubts of the man, andthey had been many, Pan divined that he could stir him, rouse him outof the lethargy of sordid indifference and forgetfulness. He wouldfree him from this jail, and the shackles of Hardman in any case, butto find that it was possible to influence him gladdened Pan's heart. What would this not mean to Lucy!

The door opened behind Pan. 

"Wal, stranger, reckon yore time's up, " called the jailer. 

Pan gave the stunned Blake a meaning look, and then without a word, heleft the room. The guard closed and locked the door. Then he lookedup, with cunning, yet not wholly without pleasure. His companion atthe card game had gone. 

"Panhandle Smith!" whispered the guard, half stretching out his hand, then withdrawing it. 

"Shake, Mac, " said Pan in a low voice. "It's a small world. "

"By Gord, it shore is, " replied Mac New, wringing Pan's hand. "I'mknown here as Hurd. "

"Ah-huh. .. . Well, Hurd, I'm not a talking man. But I want to remindyou that you owe me a good turn. "

"You shore don't have to remind me of thet, " returned the other. 

"It pays to do good turns. .. . I'm lucky, old timer. "

"I savvy, Panhandle Smith, " said Hurd, with gleaming eyes, and hecrooked a stubby thumb toward the door of Blake's jail. 

"All right, cowboy, " returned Pan, with a meaning smile. "I'll droparound tonight about eleven. "

Pan slowed up in his stride when he reached the business section of thetown, and strolled along as if he were looking for someone. He was. He meant to have eyes in the back of his head henceforth. But he didnot meet anyone he knew or see anyone who glanced twice at him. 

He went into Black's general merchandise store to look at the saddleMoran had recommended. It was a bargain and Pan purchased it on sight. Proof indeed was this that there were not many cowboys in and aroundMarco. While he was there, Pan bought a Winchester carbine and asaddle sheath for it. Thus burdened he walked out to the camp. 

Lying Juan had supper about ready and the boys were noisy up at thecorral. Some of their language was indicative of trouble and meanhorses. Pan found a seat by the fire very welcome. Emotion had powerto exhaust him far beyond physical exertion. Darkness had just aboutmerged from dusk when the boys dragged themselves in, smelling of dustand horses. They went into the water basins like ducks. Pan lightedthe lantern and put it on the table. Then the boys came straddling thebench like cowboys mounting horses. Their faces were red and shiny, their wet hair was pasted down. 

"Wal, if heah ain't ole Pan Smith, " announced Blinky, vociferously. "Gus, take a peep at him. I'll bet he's got hold of a grand hoss. Nothing else could make him look like thet. "

"No. I just got back my girl, " replied Pan gaily. 

"Gurl! Say, cowboy, " began Blinky, in consternation. "You didn't runfoul of thet little Yellow Mine kid?"

"Eat your supper, you hungry-looking galoot, " replied Pan. "And youtoo, Gus. .. Because if I begin to shoot off my chin now you'll forgetthe grub. "

Thus admonished, and with curious glances at Pan, the cowboys took hisadvice and attacked the generous meal Juan had set before them. Theirappetites further attested to a strenuous day. Pan did not seem to behungry, which fact caused Juan much concern. 

"Ahuh! It's the way a fellar gets when he's in love with a gurl, "observed the keen Blinky. "I been there. "

After supper they got together before the stove and rolled theircigarettes. The cold night wind, with its tang of mountain heights, made the fire most agreeable. Pan spread his palms to the heat. 

"Wal, pard, throw it off your chest before you bust, " advised Blinkyshrewdly. 

"What kind of a day did you boys have?" countered Pan with a laugh. 

"Good an' bad, " replied Gus, while Blinky shook his head. "Some hossthieves have been runnin' off our stock. We had some fine hosses, notbroke yet. Some we wanted to keep. "

"What's the good news?" queried Pan, as Hans hesitated. 

"Pan, I'll be doggoned if we didn't see a million broomies today, "burst out Blinky. 

"No. Now, Blink, talk sense, " remonstrated Pan. "You mean you saw athousand?"

"Wal, shore a million is stretchin' it some, " acknowledged the cowboy. "But ten thousand wouldn't be nothin'. We tracked some of our hossestwenty miles an' more over heah, farther'n we'd been yet. An' climbeda high ridge we looked down into the purtiest valley I ever seen. Twice as big as Hot Springs Valley. Gee, it lay there gray an' greenwith hosses as thick as greasewood bushes on the desert. Thet valleyhasn't been drove yet. It's purty rough gettin' up to where you cansee. An' there's lots of hosses closer to town. Thet accounts. "

"Blinky, is this talk of yours a leaf out of Lying Juan's book?" askedPan incredulously. "It's too good to be true. "

"Pan, I'll swear it on a stack of Bibles, " protested Blinky. "Ask Gus. He seen them. "

"For onct Blinky ain't out of his haid, " corroborated Hans. "Never sawso many wild hosses. An' if we can find a way to ketch some of themwe'll be rich. "

"Boys, you told me you'd been trapping horses at the water holes, " saidPan. 

"Shore, we've been moonshinin' them, " replied Blinky. "We build acorral round a water hole. Make a wide gate we can shut quick. Thenwe lay out on moonlight nights waitin' for 'em to come in to drink. We've done purty darn good at it, too. "

"That's fun, but it's a two-bit way to catch wild horses, " rejoined Pan. 

"Wal, they're all doin' it thet way. Hardman's outfit, an' a couplemore besides us. I figgered myself it was purty slow, but no betterway come to me. Do you know one?"

"Do I? Well, I should smile. I know more than one that'll beat yourmoonshining. Back on the prairie where it's all wide and bare there'sno chance for a small outfit. But this is high country, valleys, canyons, cedars. Boys, we can make one big stake before the otheroutfits get on to us. "

"By gosh, one's enough for us, " declared Blinky. "Then we can shakethis gold-claim country where they steal your empty tin cans an' brokenshovels. "

"One haul will do me, too, " agreed Pan. "Then Arizona for me. "

"Ah-uh!. .. Pan, how aboot this gurl?"

Briefly then Pan told his story, and the situation as it looked to himat the moment. The response of these cowboys was what he had expected. He knew them. Warmhearted, simple, elemental, they responded indifferent ways, but with the same fire. Gus Hans looked hischampionship while Blinky raved and swore. 

"Then you're both with me?" asked Pan, tersely. "Mind, it's no fairdeal, my getting your support here for helping you with a wild horsedrive. "

"Fair, hell!" returned Blinky, forcibly. "It ain't like you to insultcowboys. "

"I'm begging your pardon, " replied Pan, hastily. "But we'd never beenpardners and I hesitated to draw you into a scrap that'll almost surego to gun throwing. "

"Wal, we're your pardners now, an' damn proud of it, Panhandle Smith. "

Silently and grimly they all shook hands on it. Not half a dozen timesin his range life had Pan been party to a compact like that. 

"This Blake fellar, now, " began Blinky, as he lighted anothercigarette. "What's your idea of gettin' him out?"

"I want a horse, a blanket, some grub and a gun. I'm to take them downto the jail at eleven o'clock. "

"Huh! Goin' to hold up the guard?" queried Blinky. 

"That was my intention, " replied Pan, "but I know that fellow Hurd, who'll be on guard then. I'll not have to hold him up. "

"Hurd? I know him. Hard nut, but I think he's square. "

"Reckon Hurd will lose his job, " said Pan reflectively. "If he does, let's take him with us on the wild horse deal. "

"Suits me. An' he'll shore love thet job. Hurd hasn't any use forMatthews. "

"Blinky, do you know another man we can hire or get to throw in withus? We've got five now counting my dad, and we'll need at least six. "

"Why so many? It'll cut out profits. "

"No, it'll increase them. One good rider means a great deal to us. "

"Then let's get thet miner, Charley Brown. "

"But he's working a gold claim. "

"Wal, if I know anythin' he'll not be workin' it any longer thanfindin' blue dirt. Gus an' me seen Jard Hardman with two men ridin'out thet way this mawnin'. "

"Ah!. .. So Hardman is here now. --We'll hunt up Brown and see what hesays. Suppose we walk downtown now. "

"All right, but let me get a hoss up for Blake, " replied Blinky. "Gus, you find thet old saddle of mine, an' a blanket. There's an old canvassaddlebag an' water bottle heah somewheres. Ask Juan. An' get him topack the grub. "

The night of the sabbath was no barrier to the habitués of the YellowMine. But early in the evening it was not yet in full swing. Thedance was on with a few heavy-footed miners and their gaudy partners, and several of the gambling tables were surrounded. 

Pan stalked about alone. His new-found cowboy friends had beeninstructed to follow him unobtrusively. Pan did not wish to give animpression that he had taken up with allies. He was looking forCharley Brown, but he had a keen roving eye for every man in sight. Itwas doubtful if Hardman or Matthews could have espied Pan first, unlessthey were hidden somewhere. He took up a position, presently, behindone of the poker games, with his back to the wall, so that he hadcommand of the room. A stiff game was in progress, which Pan watchedcasually. Blinky and Gus lounged around, with apparently no more aimthan other idle drinking visitors of the place. 

Gradually more men came in, the gaming tables filled up, and thewhite-armed girls appeared to mingle with the guests. 

Pan espied the girl Louise before she had become aware of his presence. She appeared to be more decently clad, a circumstance that greatlyadded to her charm, in his opinion. Curiously he studied her. Womenrepresented more to Pan than to most men he had had opportunity to meetor observe. He never forgot that they belonged to the same sex as hismother. So it was natural he had compassion for this unsexeddance-hall, gambling-lure girl. She was pretty in a wild sort of way, dissolute, abandoned, yet not in any sense weak. A terrible havocshowed in her face for anyone with eyes to see beneath the surface. Pan noted a strange restlessness in her that at first he imagined wasthe seeking instinct of women of her class. But it was only that shecould not sit or stand still. Her hawklike eyes did not miss anyonethere, and finally they located him. She came around the tables up toPan, and took hold of his arm. 

"Howdy, Handsome, " she said, smiling up at him. 

Pan doffed his sombrero and bade her good evening. 

"Don't do that, " she said. "It irritates me. "

"But, Louise, I can't break a habit just to please you, " he repliedsmiling. 

"You could stay out of here. Didn't I warn you not to come back?

"Yes, but I thought you were only fooling. Besides I _had_ to come. "

"Why? You don't fit here. You've got too clean a look. "

Pan gazed down at her, feeling in her words and presence something thatprompted him to more than kindliness and good nature. 

"Louise, I can return the compliment. You don't fit here. "

"_Damn you!_" she flashed. "I'll fall in love with you. "

"Well, if you did, I'd sure drag you out of this hell, " replied Pan, bluntly. 

"Come away from these gamblers, " she demanded, and drew him from behindthe circle to seats at an empty table. "I won't ask you to drink ordance. But I'm curious. I've been hearing about you. "

"That so? Who told you?"

"I overheard Dick Hardman tonight, just before supper. He has a roomnext to mine in the hotel here, when he stays in town. He was tellinghis father about you. Such cussing I never heard. I'm giving you ahunch. They'll do away with you. "

"Thanks. Reckon it's pretty fine of you to put me on my guard. "

"I only meant behind your back. --What has Dick against you?"

"We were kids together back in Texas. Just natural rivals and enemies. But I hadn't seen him for years till last night. Then he didn't knowme. "

"He knows you now all right. He ran into you today?"

"I reckon he did, " replied Pan, with a grim laugh. 

"Panhandle, this is getting sort of warm, " she said, leaning across thetable to him. "I'm not prying into your affairs. But I could be yourfriend. God knows I like a _man_. "

"That's the second compliment you've paid me tonight. What're you upto, Louise?"

"See here, cowboy, when I pay any two-legged hombre compliments you cangamble they are sincere. "

"All right, no offense meant. "

"Do you resent my curiosity?"

"No. "

"I've got you figured right when I say you're in trouble. You're_looking_ for someone?"

"Yes. "

"I knew it, " she retorted, snapping her fingers. "And that's Hardmanand his outfit . .. I didn't hear all Dick said. When he talked loudhe cussed. But I heard enough to tie up Panhandle Smith with this girlLucy and the Hardman outfit. "

Pan eyed her steadily. She was encroaching upon sacred ground. Buther feeling was genuine, and undoubtedly she had some connection with asituation which began to look complex. The same instinct that operatedso often with Pan in his relation to men of the open now subtlyprompted him. Regardless of circumstances he knew when to grasp anopportunity. 

"Louise, you show that you'd risk taking a chance on me--a stranger, "he replied, with quick decision. "I return that compliment. "

The smile she gave him was really a reward. It gave him a glimpse ofthe depths of her. 

"Who's this girl, Lucy?" she queried. 

"She's my sweetheart, ever since we were kids, " returned Pan withemotion. "I went to riding the ranges, and well, like so many cowboys, I didn't go back home. When I did go Lucy was gone, my family wasgone. I trailed them here--to find that Dick Hardman was about toforce Lucy to marry him. "

"The ---- ---- ----!" she burst out. Then after her excitement cooled:"How'd he aim to force her?"

Quickly Pan explained the situation as related to Jim Blake. 

"Aha! Easy to savvy. That's where Jard Hardman and Matthews comein. .. . Panhandle, they're a dirty outfit--and the dirtiest of them isDick Hardman!"

"What's he to you, Louise?" inquired Pan gravely. "You'll excuse me ifI say I can't see you in love with him. "

"In love with Dick Hardman?" she whispered, hotly. "My God! Iwouldn't soil even my hands on him--if I didn't have to. .. . He met mein Frisco. He brought me to this damned stinking rough hole. He mademe promises he never kept. Not to marry me. Don't get the wronghunch. He has double-crossed me. And I _had_ to sink to this!. .. Drunk? Yes, sure I was drunk. Don't you understand I have to be drunkto stand this life? I'm not drunk now because you got here early. .. . Something deep must be behind my meeting you, Panhandle Smith. "

"I hope to heaven it will be to your good--as I know meeting you willbe to mine, " replied Pan fervently. 

"We're off the track, " she broke in, and Pan imagined he saw a deeperred under her artificial color. "I despise Dick Hardman. He's stingy, conceited, selfish. He's low down, and he's sinking to worse. "

"His father ruined mine, " Pan told her. "That's what brought Dad outhere--to try to get something back from Jard Hardman. No use. He onlygot another hard deal. "

"That cowboy who was in here with you last night--Blinky Moran. Hisclaim was jumped by Hardman. "

"Louise, how'd you know that?" asked Pan in surprise. 

"Don't give me away. Blinky told me. He's one of my friends and he'sa white man if I ever saw one. .. . He has been in love with me. Wantedme to marry him! Poor crazy boy! I sure had to fight--and getdrunker--to keep from more than liking him. He spent all his money onme and I had to make him quit. "

"Well, that little bow-legged cowboy liar! He's as deep as the sea. "

"Keep it secret, Panhandle, " she responded seriously. "I don't want tohurt his feelings. .. . To get back to the Hardmans. They've takenstrong hold here. The old man owns half of Marco. He's in everything. But it's my hunch I'm giving you--that he's in the straight deals onlyto cover the crooked ones. That's where the money is. "

"Yet Jard Hardman will not square up with Dad!" exclaimed Pan. 

"Now tell me why you come into the Yellow Mine. Is it to courttrouble? You're taking an awful chance. Every night or so some tipsyminer gets robbed or knifed, or shot. "

"Louise, in dealing with men of really dangerous quality your onlychance is to face them with precisely the same thing. As for thefour-flushers like Matthews and men of the Hardman stamp, the one thingthey can't stand is nerve. They haven't got it. They don't understandit. They fear it. It works on their consciousness. They begin tofigure on what the nervy man means to do before they do anything. .. . If I did not show myself in the street, and here, the Hardman outfitwould soon run true to their deals. So by appearing to invite and seeka fight I really avoid one. "

"So that's why they call you Panhandle Smith?" queried the girl, meditatively. "I mean with the tone old man Hardman used. They callme Angel. But that doesn't mean what it sounds, does it?"

"I can't figure you, Louise, " replied Pan dubiously. 

"I'm glad you can't. .. . Hello, there's Blinky and his pard Gus. What're they up to?"

"They are looking pretty hard, but it can't be for you and me. Theysaw us long ago. "

"There! Hardman and Matthews, coming from behind the bar. There's aprivate office in behind. You can see the door. .. . Panhandle, let metell you Hardman seldom shows up here. "

Pan leisurely got to his feet. His eye quickly caught Matthews' blacksombrero, then the big ham of a face, with its drooping mustache. Pancould not see anyone with him until they got out from behind thecrowded bar. Then Pan perceived that Matthews' companion was a stoutman, bearded, dressed like a prosperous rancher. 

"Louise, is that man with Matthews the gentleman we have beendiscussing?" asked Pan. 

"That's the rich fat bloated ---- ---- ----, " replied the girl witheyes like a hawk. "You don't talk straight, Panhandle. "

"I'm not quite so free as you are with bad language, " replied Pan, smiling down on her. Then with deft movement he hitched his belt roundfarther forward on his hip. It was careless, it might have beenaccidental, but it was neither. And the girl grasped its meaning. Sheturned white under her paint, and the eyes that searched Pan were justthen like any other woman's. 

"Cowboy, what're you going to do?" she whispered, reaching for him. 

"I don't know exactly. You can never tell how actions are going to betaken. But I mean well. "

"Stop!" she called low after him. "You smiling devil!"

Pan moved leisurely in among the tables toward the bar and the two menstanding rather apart from the crowd. He maneuvered so that Matthews'roving glance fell upon him. Then Pan advanced straight. He saw thesheriff start, then speak hurriedly to Hardman. 

Pan halted within six feet of both men. He might never have seen JardHardman so far as any recognition was concerned. He faced a man ofabout fifty years of age, rather florid of complexion, well fed andused to strong drink. 

"Excuse me, " spoke Pan, with most consummate coolness, addressing theshorter man. Apparently he did not see Matthews. "Are you JardHardman?"

"Reckon I am, if that's any of your business, " came a gruff reply. Light, hard, speculative eyes took Pan in from head to feet. 

"Do you recognize me?" asked Pan, in the same tone. 

"No, Sir, I never saw you in my life, " retorted Hardman, his beardedchin working up and down with the vehemence of his speech. And heturned away. 

Pan made a step. His long arm shot out, and his hand, striking hard MlHardman's shoulder, whirled him round. 

"My name's Smith, " called Pan, in vibrant loud voice that stilled theroom. "Panhandle Smith!"

"I don't know you, Sir, " replied Hardman, aghast and amazed. He beganto redden. He turned to Matthews, as if in wonder that this individualpermitted him to be thus affronted. 

"Well, you knew my dad--to his loss, " declared Pan. "And that's mybusiness with you. "

"You've no business with me, " fumed Hardman. 

"Reckon you're mistaken, " went on Pan, slowly and easily. "I'm BillSmith's boy. And I mean to have an accounting with you on that Texascattle deal. "

These deliberate words, heard by all within earshot, caused little lessthan a deadlock throughout the room. The bartenders quit, the drinkerspoised glasses in the air, the voices suddenly hushed. Pan had an openspace behind him, a fact he was responsible for. He faced Matthews, Hardman, and then the length of the bar. He left the gamblers behindto Blinky and Gus, who stood to one side. Pan had invited an argumentwith the owner of the Yellow Mine and his sheriff ally. Everywesterner in the room understood its meaning. 

"You upstart cowpuncher!" presently shouted Hardman. "Get out of hereor I'll have you arrested. "

"Arrest me! What for? I'm only asking you for an honest deal. I canprove you cheated my father out of cattle. You can't arrest me forthat. "

Hardman guffawed boisterously. "Get out of here with your insolenttalk about cattle deals. "

"I won't get out. You can't put me out, even if you do own the place. "

"I'll--I'll--" choked Hardman, his body leaping with rage, his facegrowing purple under his beard. Then he turned to Matthews. "Throwthis drunken cowboy out. "

That focused attention upon the sheriff. Pan read in Matthews' eyesthe very things he had suspected. And as he relaxed the mental andmuscular strain under which he had waited, he laughed in Matthews' face. 

"Bah! Hardman, you're backed by the wrong man. And at last you've runinto the wrong man. Haven't you sense enough to see that?. .. Youcheated my father. Now you're going to make it good. "

Hardman, furious and imperious, never grasped the significance that hadfrozen Matthews. He was thick, arrogant. He had long been a powerwherever he went. Yielding to rage he yelled at Pan. 

"Bill Smith sicked his cowpuncher on me, hey? Like father, like son!You're a rustler breed. I'll drive you--"

Pan leaped like a tiger and struck Hardman a terrible blow in the face. Like something thrown from a catapult he went into the crowd next thebar, and despite this barrier and the hands grasping at his flying armshe crashed to the floor. But before he fell Pan had leaped back in thesame position he had held in front of Matthews. 

"He lied, " cried Pan. "My dad, Bill Smith, was as honest a cattlemanas ever lived. .. . Mr. Sheriff, do you share that slur cast on him?"

"I don't know Bill Smith, " replied Matthews hastily. "Reckon I'm nottalkin' agin men I don't know. .. . An' as I'm not armed I can't arguewith a gun-packin' cowboy. "

Thus he saved his face with the majority of those present. But he didhave a gun. Pan knew that as well as if he had seen it. Matthews wasnot the "even break" stripe of sheriff. 

"Ah-huh!" ejaculated Pan sardonically. "All right. Then I'll belooking for you to arrest me next time we meet. "

"I'll arrest you, Panhandle Smith, you can gamble on thet, " declaredMatthews harshly. 

"Arrest nothing, " replied Pan with ringing scorn. "You're a four-flushsheriff. I'll gamble you elected yourself. I know your kind, Matthews. And I'll gamble some more that you don't last long in Marco. "

This was, as Pan deliberately intended, raw talk that any man not acoward could not swallow. But Matthews was a coward. That appearedpatent to all onlookers, in their whispers and nodding heads. Whateverprestige he had held there in that rough mining community was gone, until he came out to face this fiery cowboy with a gun. White andshaking he turned to the group of men who had gotten Hardman to hisfeet. They led him out the open door and Matthews followed. 

Pan strode back to the table where Louise sat tense and wide eyed. Thehum of voices began again, the clatter of glasses, the clink of coin. The incident had passed. 

"Well, little girl, I had them figured, didn't I?" asked Pan, calling asmile to break his tight cold face. 

"I don't--know what--ails me, " she said, breathlessly. "I see fightsevery night. And I've seen men killed--dragged out. But this got mynerve. "

"It wasn't much to be excited about. I didn't expect any fight. "

"Your idea was to show up Hardman and Matthews before the crowd. Yousure did. The crowd was with you. And so am I, Panhandle Smith. " Sheheld out a slim hand. "I've got to dance. Good night. "

CHAPTER TEN

Pan's exit from the Yellow Mine was remarkable for the generous spaceaccorded him by its occupants. 

Outside he laughed a little, as he stood under the flare of yellowlight and rolled a cigarette. Knots of men stood on the corners of thestreet. But the area in front of the saloon was significantly vacant. 

"Now if Dad had only been there, " soliloquized Pan. "That might haveput some life in him. "

He sauntered down into the street, and as he went he heard the jangleof spurs behind him. Blinky and Gus covering his rear! Presently, beyond the circle of yellow light, they joined him, one on each side. 

"Wal, Pan, I was shore in on thet, " said Blink, gripping Pan's arm. 

"Say, you called 'em flat. Made 'em swaller a hell of a lot, " addedGus, with a hard note in his voice. "When it come down to hard panthey wasn't there. "

"Pan, you remember me tellin' you aboot Purcell, who jumped my claimwith young Hardman?" queried Blinky. "Wal, Purcell was there, settin'some tables back of where you made your stand. I seen him when wefirst went in. Course everybody quit playin' cards when you called oldHardman. An' I made it my particular biz to get close to Purcell. Hewas pullin' his gun under the table when I kicked him. An' when helooked up he seen somethin', you can bet on thet. .. . Wal, Purcell isone man in Hardman's outfit we'll have to kill. .. . Gus will back me upon thet. "

"I shore will. Purcell's a Nevada claim jumper, accordin' to talk. Somebody hinted he belonged to thet Plummer gang thet was cleaned outat Bannock years ago. He's no spring chicken, thet's shore. "

"Point Purcell out to me the first chance you get, " replied Pan. "Don't figure I expect to bluff everybody. It can't be done. Somebodywill try me out--if only to see what I can do. That's the game, youknow. "

"Hell, yes. An' all you got to do, Pan, is to be there first. "

"Reckon tomorrow will be shore interestin', " remarked Gus. 

"That girl Louise gave me a hunch, " said Pan thoughtfully. "Struck meshe was square. --Blink, you've talked to her, of course?"

"Me? . .. Aw!--Couple of times. I reckon. Bought her drinks. Shewon't look at me unless she's drunk, " replied Blink, both confused andgloomy. 

"You've got Louise figured wrong, cowboy, " returned Pan. "I'll proveit to you sometime. .. . Now let's get down to business, and planBlake's release from jail. I want to lead the horse round about, so Iwon't be seen by anybody. "

"Shore, thet'll be easy, " replied Blinky. "I'll go with you. We cankeep to the slope a ways an' then go down an' come up on the other sideof town. No roads an' no houses. "

They returned to camp, and replenishing the fire sat around it talkingof the wild-horse drive. 

About ten o'clock Blinky went to the corral, saddled a horse, and ledhim back to the tent. There they put on the blanket and saddlebags. Blinky produced a gun he could spare, and then thoughtfully added asmall bag of grain for the horse. 

"It's darker'n the milltail of Hades, " announced Blinky, "an' thet'sgood fer this kind of work. I'll go ahaid, pickin' out the way, an'you lead the hoss. "

So they set out into the black night, working along the base of theslope. No stars showed, and the raw wind hinted of rain or snow. Thelights of the town shone dimly. Keen on the breeze floated thediscordant music and revelry, from the Yellow Mine and other likedives, in full blast. 

Descending the slope required careful slow work. The incline wassteep, of soft earth and loose shale. But Blinky knew where to feelhis way, and eventually they reached the flat, to find easier progress. Blinky made a detour, and finally, as they gradually approached severallamplights, far apart, he whispered: "You wait heah. I ain't so darnshore which one of them lights comes from the jail. "

Pan waited what seemed a long while. At last he heard steps, then madeout an object blacker than the black background. 

"Found the jail easy, but got off comin' back. Pronto now. Must benear eleven. "

Pan kept the dark silent moving form in sight. The dim light grewlarger. Then the low flat building loomed up faintly in the densegloom. 

"Go ahead, " whispered Blinky. "I'll hold the hoss. "

Pan went swiftly up to the wall, and thence along it to the corner. The light came from an open door. He listened. There was no sound. Luckily Hurd was alone. Pan slipped round the corner and entered. Hurd sat at the table in the flare of a lamp, turned down low. 

"Ha! Was waitin' fer you, an' beginnin' to worry, " he said, in hoarsewhisper. 

"Plenty of time, if Blake's all ready, " replied Pan. 

"I'm givin' you a hunch. He's damn queer fer a fellar who expects tobreak jail. "

"No matter. Let's get at it, pronto. "

Hurd got up, and laid his gun on the table. Then he turned over thebench, threw papers on the floor. "Thar's the key, an' heah's a rope. Hawg-tie me. "

With that he turned his back. Swiftly Pan bound him securely, and lethim down upon the floor. Then he unlocked the door, opened it. Pitchdarkness inside and no sound! He called in low voice. Blake did notreply. Muttering in surprise, Pan took the lamp and went into theroom. He found Blake asleep, though fully dressed. Pan jerked himroughly out of that indifferent slumber. 

"It's Smith, " he said, bluntly. "You sure must _want_ to get out. .. . Damn you, Blake, this whole deal looks fishy to me!. .. Come on. "

Leaving the lamp there, Pan dragged the man out, through the darkentrance room, into the night. In another moment they had reached thehorse and Blinky. 

"Here's money and a gun, " whispered Pan, swiftly. "You'll find grub, blanket, grain on your saddle. Get on!" Pan had to half lift Blakeupon the horse. He felt of the stirrups. "They're all right. .. Theroad is that way, about fifty yards. Turn to the left and ride. Remember, Siccane. "

Blake rode away into the darkness without a word. Pan watched andlistened. Presently he heard the hard clip-clop of hoofs on the road, making to the left. 

"Good! He'll ride past where Lucy's sleeping. I wish she could know, "muttered Pan. 

"Was he drunk?" queried Blinky, in a hoarse whisper. "Shore funny fera sober man. "

"He didn't breathe like he was drunk, " replied Pan. "But heflabbergasted me. Found him asleep! And he never said a darnedword. .. Blink, it sticks in my craw. Reckon he didn't want to leavethat nice warm bed. "

"Ahuh! Wal, let's rustle back to our warm beds, " said the cowboygruffly. 

Pan awakened during the latter part of the night. Rain was patteringon the tent. The wind moaned. He thought of Blake, not clad for badweather and in unfit condition for a long ride, facing the storm. Eventhen a vague doubt penetrated his drowsy mind. 

Morning dawned bright and sparkling after the rain. The air was keenand crisp. The cedars glistened as if decked with diamonds. Pan feltthe sweet scent of the damp dust, and it gave him a thrill and alonging for the saddle and the open country. 

"Wal, reckon this heah'll be our busy day, " drawled Blinky, aftermaking a hearty breakfast of bacon and flapjacks. "Pan, what's firston the ticket?"

"Show me a horse, you bow-legged grub destroyer, " replied Pan eagerly. 

"Come out to the corral. We got a sorrel as is a real shore enoughhoss if you can ride him. "

There were a dozen or more horses in the corral. Pan, glancing overthem with appraising eye, decided the cowboys had not spoken of themwith the degree of satisfaction that they really merited. 

"Fine string, Blinky, " said Pan, with glistening eyes. "Is that sorrelthe one I can't ride?"

"Yep, thet's him. Ain't he a real hoss?"

"Best of the bunch, at first sight. Blinky, are you sure you're notgiving me your own horse?"

"Me? I don't care nothin' aboot him, " declared Blinky, lying glibly. "Shore he's the orfullest pitchin' son-of-a-gun I ever forked. Butmebbe you can ride him. "

It developed presently that Pan could ride the sorrel, and that Blinkyhad done the horse a great injustice. How good to be back in thesaddle! Pan wanted to ride down at once to show Lucy his first mountwest of the Rockies. Indeed he was possessed of a strong yearningdesire to hurry to see Lucy, a feeling that he had to dispel. If allwent well he could go to his mother's for dinner. Meanwhile he mustmeet the exigencies here in Marco. 

"Wal, what's next on the ticket?" queried Blinky, who appeared to berather jerky this morning. 

"I'm going downtown, " replied Pan. 

"Ahuh! I want to trail along with you. "

"No, I'll go alone. I'll make my bluff strong, Blinky, or drawMatthews out. Honest, I don't think he'll show. "

"Thet yellow dawg? He won't face you, Pan. But he's in thet Hardmanoutfit, an' one of them--mebbe Purcell--might take a shot at you from awinder. It's been done heah. Let me go with you. "

"Well, if they're that low down your being with me wouldn't help much, "replied Pan, pondering the matter. "I'll tell you, Blink. Here's howI figure. Marco is a pretty big place. It's full of men. And westernmen are much alike anywhere. Matthews is no fool. He couldn't riskmurdering me in broad daylight, from ambush. "

"I'm not trustin' him, " said Blinky, somberly. "But I admit thechances are he won't do thet. "

"You and Gus pack up for the wild-horse drive, " went on Pan briskly. "We ought to get off in the morning. One of you ride out to see ifCharley Brown will throw in with us. I'll see Dad at dinner. He'llneed horse and outfit. It may turn out we can get our jailer friend, Hurd. Wonder if he lost his job. .. . Ha! Ha! Well, boys, I'll knowmore when I see you again. "

Pan strolled down toward the town. A familiar unpleasant mental straindominated his consciousness. His slow, cool, easy nonchalance was alloutward. He had done this thing before, but that seemed long ago. Hisfather, Lucy, his mother, somehow made an immense difference betweenthe cowboy reactions of long ago and this stern duty he had set himselftoday. He hated what his actions meant, what might well ensue fromthem, yet he was glad it was in him to meet the issue in this way ofthe West. 

By the time he had reached a point opposite the stage office allreflections had passed out of his mind to give place to somethingsinister. 

His alert faculties of observation belied the leisurely manner of hisapproach to the main street. He was a keen-strung, watching, listeningmachine. The lighting and smoking of a cigarette was mechanicalpretense--he did not want to smoke. 

Two men stood in front of the stage office. One was Smith, the agent. Pan approached them, leaned on the hitching rail. But he favored hisright side and he faced the street. 

"Mornin', cowboy, " Smith greeted him, not without nervousness. "Seeyou're down early to git arrested. "

"Howdy, Smith. Can you give me a drink?" returned Pan. 

"Sorry, but I haven't a drop. "

The other man was an old fellow, though evidently he was still active, for his boots and clothes showed the stain and wear of mining. 

"Tell you, cowboy, " he spoke up, dryly, "you might buy a bottle at theYellow Mine. "

Pan made no reply, and presently the old man shambled away while Smithentered his office. Pan kept his vigil there, watching, waiting. Hewas seen by dozens of passing men, but none of them crossed toward thestage office. Down the street straggling pedestrians halted to formlittle groups. In an hour the business of Marco had apparently halted. 

Its citizens, the miners who had started to work, the teamsters, Mexicans, cowboys who happened upon the street, suddenly struckattitudes of curious attention, with faces turned toward Pan. They toowere waiting, watching. 

The porch of the Yellow Mine was in plain sight, standing out on acorner, scarcely more than a hundred yards down the street. Pan sawHardman and Matthews come out of the hotel. They could not fail toobserve the quiet, the absence of movement, the waiting knots of men. 

This was the climax of strain for Pan. Leisurely he strolled away fromthe hitching rail, out into the middle of the street, and down. Thecloser groups of watchers vanished. 

Hardman could be seen gesticulating, stamping as if in rage; and thenhe went into the hotel, leaving Matthews standing alone. Other men, inthe background disappeared. The sheriff stood a moment irresolute, sagging, with his pale hamlike face gleaming. Then he wheeled to enterthe hotel. 

He had damned himself. He had refused the even break, the man-to-man, the unwritten edict of westerners. 

Pan saw this evasion with grim relief. The next move was one easier toperform, though fraught with great peril. Every man in Marco now knewthat Pan had come out to meet the men he had denounced. They had beenaware of his intention. They had seen him sauntering down the middleof the street. And they had showed what the West called yellow. Butthey had not showed their claws, if they had any. Pan could well haveended his quest then and there. But to follow it up, to beard thejackals in their den--that was the last word. 

As Pan proceeded slowly down the middle of the street the little groupsof spectators disintegrated, and slipped out of sight into the storesand saloons. Those farthest from him moved on to halt again. And whenany neared the Yellow Mine, they scurried completely out of sight. Panhad the main street to himself. For a few moments not a single manshowed himself. Then they began to reappear behind him out of range, slowly following him. 

At the entrance to the Yellow Mine, Pan threw away his cigarette, andmounted the steps. He was gambling his life on the code of thewesterners. The big hall-like saloon was vacant except for the twobartenders behind the bar, and a Mexican sweeping out the sawdust. Panhad heard subdued voices, the shuffle of feet, the closing of doors. Every muscle in his body was cramped with tension, ready to leap likelightning into action. Advancing to the bar he called for a drink. 

"On the house this mawnin', " replied the nearest bartender, smiling. He showed a little nervousness with his hands, otherwise he wascomposed, and his offer to treat expressed his sentiment. Pan took thebottle with his left hand, poured out some liquor, set the bottle down, and lifted the glass. He had his drink. His tension relaxed. 

"Sort of quiet this morning, " he said. 

"Reckon it is, just now, " replied the bartender, significantly. 

"Is this Sunday?" went on Pan casually. 

"No. Yestiddy was Sunday, so this must be Monday. "

"Reckon I might as well move along, " remarked Pan, but he did not stir. The bartender went on cleaning glasses. Sounds of footsteps came fromoutside. Presently Pan walked back through the open door, then halteda moment, to light another cigarette. His back was turned to the barand the doors. That seemed the climax of his effrontery. It wasdeliberate, the utter recklessness of the cowboy who had been trainedin a hard school. But all that happened was the silence breaking to agay wild sweet voice: "Call again, cowboy, when there's somebody home!"

Louise had been watching him through some secret peephole. That hadbeen her tribute to him and her scorn of his opponents. It aboutclosed the incident, Pan concluded. Men were now coming along thestreet in both directions, though not yet close. Some wag yelled froma distance: "Thar ain't no sheriff, Panhandle. "

Pan retraced his steps up the street, finding, as before, a clearpassage. Men hailed him from doorways, from windows, from behindobstructions. He did not need to be told that they were with him. Marco had been treated to precisely what it wanted. Pan was quick tograsp the mood of these residents who had been so keen about hisendeavor to draw out Hardman and Matthews. That hour saw the beginningof the end for these dominant factors in the evil doings of Marco. What deep gratification it afforded Pan! They might thrive for a time, but their heyday had passed. Matthews would be the laughing stock ofthe town. He could never retrieve. He had been proclaimed onlyanother in the long list of self-appointed officers of the law. 

By the time Pan got back to camp his mood actually harmonized with hisleisurely, free and careless movements. Still he was hiding something, for he wanted to yell. Blinky saw him coming and yelled for him. 

The cowboy was beside himself with a frenzy of delight. It had beenhard for him to stay there in camp. He cursed radiantly. 

"How's the pack job? All done?" queried Pan, when he could get a wordin. 

"Pack hell! We plumb forgot, " replied Blinky. "What youthink--you--you--"

Blinky failed to find adequate words to express his sentiments. Guswas quiet as usual, but he too showed relaxation from a severe ordeal. 

"Well, let's get at it now, " suggested Pan. "I'll start you boys onit, then ride down to Mother's. "

In the succeeding hour, leading to noon, what with sundry trips down tothe store, the trio learned some news that afforded much satisfaction. Jim Blake had assaulted a guard and broken jail. No doubt he must havehad outside assistance. According to rumor Matthews accused Hurd, theguard, of being party to the escape, and had discharged him. Sentimentin town was not equally divided. Most everybody, according to theinformers, was glad Blake had escaped. It developed that the jail wasnot a civic institution. Already there had been talk of the permanentcitizens getting together. 

All this was exceedingly welcome to Pan. He could hardly wait tillnoon to saddle the sorrel, to ride over to his mother's. 

"Aw, cowboy, hug thet gurl fer me!" sang Blinky, with ecstatic upwardgaze. "Shore she's put the devil in you. An' this heah outfit issteppin' high!"

On the way out to the farm, halfway beyond the outskirts of town, Panmet his father rushing up the road. At sight of Pan he almostcollapsed. 

"Just--heard--the news, " he panted, as Pan reined in the sorrel. 

"What news, Dad?" queried Pan, gazing down with both thrill and anxietyat that haggard face, slowly warming out of its havoc. 

"Bill Dolan an' his--boys--stopped at the ranch to--tell me, " Smith, wiping his clammy face. "They just left town. .. . Bill saw you takethat walk down main street. "

"Well, what's that to be all set up about?"

"Reckon I was scared wild. .. Bill says to me, 'Bill, you oughtn't showyellow like thet. You shore don't savvy thet boy of yours. ' . .. Ithought I did, son, but when it come to a showdown I waschicken-hearted. Your comin' home was a Godsend to Mother an' Lucy. An' more to me! Then to think you might get shot right off. .. . Wal, it was too much for my stomach. "

"Dad, I bluffed them--that's all. I braced them quick and hard, beforethey could figure. It worked, and I believe I got most of the townwith me. "

"Pan, is it true that you accused Jard Hardman of robbin' me--an' youknocked him flat?"

"Sure it's true. "

"Lord, but I'd like to have seen that, " declared Smith vehemently. "An' son, you got Jim Blake out of jail. Bill didn't hint you hadanythin' to do with that. But I knew. It was sure great. If only Jimdoes his part!"

"You doubt that, Dad?"

"Shore do. But I'll tell you, Pan. If we could be with Jim all thetime we could pull him up. "

"Let's hope he's far on the way to Siccane by now. .. . Does Lucy know?I hope you didn't tell her about my meeting with Hardman and Matthews?"

"I didn't. But Bill shore did, " replied his father. "Reckon I wouldhave squealed, though. Mother an' Lucy have a lot more nerve than me. Fact is, though, Bill didn't give 'em time to go to pieces. He justbusted out with news of Blake's escape. Say, boy, you should have seenLucy. "

"I will see her pronto, " replied Pan eagerly. "Come on. What're youholding me up for, anyhow?"

Pan walked the horse while his father kept pace alongside. 

"Some more news I most forgot, " Smith went on. "Bill told about ashootin' scrape out in Cedar Gulch. Them claim jumpers drove a minernamed Brown off his claim. They had to fight for it. Brown said hewounded one of 'em. They chased him clean to Satlee's ranch. Shorewanted to kill him or scare him off for good. "

"I know Brown, " replied Pan. "And from what he told me I've a hunch Iknow the claim jumpers. "

"Wal, that'd be hard to prove. In the early days of a minin' boomthere's a lot of trouble. A miner is a crazy fellar often. He'll diga hole, then move on to dig another. Then if some other prospectorcomes along to find gold on his last diggin's he yells claim jumpin'. As a matter of fact most of them haven't a real claim till they findgold. An' all that makes the trouble. "

"I'll hunt Brown up and persuade him to make the wild-horse drive withus. He's--"

"By George, I forgot some more, " interrupted Smith, slapping his leg. "Bill said Wiggate broke with Jard Hardman. Wiggate started thiswild-hoss buyin' an' shippin' east. Hardman had to get his finger inthe pie. Now Wiggate is a big man an' he has plenty of money. Ialways heard him well spoken of. Now I'll gamble your callin' JardHardman the way you did had a lot to do with Wiggate's break with him. "

"Shouldn't wonder, " rejoined Pan. "And it's darned good luck for us. The boys ran across a valley full of wild horses over here about twentymiles. Dad, I believe I can trap several thousand wild horses. "

"No!" ejaculated his father, incredulously. 

"If the boys aren't loco, I sure can, " declared Pan positively. 

"I can vouch for numbers myself, " replied Smith. "An' I've not a doubtin the world but that there valley's not yet hunted. But to ketch thedarned scooters, that's the hell of it! Pan, even a thousand headwould give me a new start somewhere. "

"It's as good as done. Before the snow flies we will be on the waysouth to Siccane. "

"Lord! I'm a younger man than I was a few days ago. Before the snowflies? That's hardly another month. Pan, how'll we travel?"

"Wagons and horseback. We can buy wagon outfits for next to nothing. There's a corral full of them at Black's. Second hand, but goodenough. "

"Mother an' Lucy will be glad. They hate this country. I don't mindwind if it's not too cold. "

"There! Isn't that Lucy at the gate now?" suddenly queried Pan, withpiercing gaze ahead. 

"Reckon it is, " replied his father. "Ride ahead, son. I'll take mytime. "

Pan urged the sorrel into a lope, then a gallop, and from that to arun. In just a few rods Pan took the measure of this splendid horse. Swift, strong, sure footed and easy gaited, and betraying no sign of amean spirit, the sorrel won Pan. What a liar Blinky was! He had liedto be generous. 

Lucy waved to Pan as he came clattering down the road. Then shedisappeared in the green foliage. Arriving at the gate he dismountedand went in. He expected to see her. But she had disappeared. Leading his horse he hurried in toward the house, looking everywhere. The girl, however, was not to be seen. 

Bobby was occupied with little wooden playthings on the porch. Pan'sgay shout to him brought forth his mother, but no Lucy. 

He dropped his bridle, and mounted the porch to embrace his mother, whomet him with suppressed emotions. Her hands were more expressive thanher words. 

"Oh, I'm all here, Mother, " he laughed. "Where's Lucy? She was at thegate. Waved to me. "

"Lucy ran through the house like a whirlwind, " replied his mother, witha smile. "The truth is, my son, she has been quite beside herselfsince she heard of her father's release from jail. She _knew_ you gothim out. She stared at me with her eyes black and wide. 'Mother, helaughed at me--at my fears. He said it'd be easy to free Dad. ' . .. Soshe knows, Pan, and I rather think she didn't want us to see her whenshe meets you. You'll find her in the orchard or down by the brook. "

"All right, Mother, I'll find her, " replied Pan happily. "We'll be into dinner pronto. There's a lot to talk about. Dad will tell you. "

Pan did not seek Lucy in the orchard. Leaping upon the sorrel he lopeddown the sandy hard-packed path toward the brook and the shady treewith its bench. Pan knew she would be there. Dodging the overhangingbranches he kept peering through the aisles of green for a glimpse ofwhite or a golden head. Suddenly he was rewarded. Lucy stood in themiddle of the sunny glade. 

Pan rode to her side and leaped from the saddle. Her face was pale, and wet with tears. But her eyes were now dry, wide and purple, radiant with unutterable gladness. She rushed into his arms. 

Dinner that day appeared to be something only Bobby and Pan had thoughtor need of. Mrs. Smith and Lucy, learning they might have to leave intwo weeks, surely in four, became so deeply involved in discussion ofpractical details of preparation, of food supplies for a long wagontrip, of sewing and packing, that they did not indulge in theexpression of their joy. 

"Dad is hopeless, " said Pan, with a grin. "He's worse than a kid. I'll have to pack his outfit, if he has anything. What he hasn't got, we'll buy. So, Mother, you trot out his clothes, boots, some bedding, a gun, chaps, spurs, everything there is, and let me pick what's worthtaking. "

It was indeed a scant and sad array of articles that Pan had to choosefrom. 

"No saddle, no tarp, no chaps, no spurs, no gun!" ejaculated Pan, scratching his head. "Poor Dad! I begin to have a hunch how he felt. "

It developed that all his father possessed made a small bundle that Pancould easily carry into town on his saddle. 

"We'll buy Dad's outfit, " said Pan briskly. "Mother, here's somemoney. Use it for what you need. Work now, you and Lucy. You see wewant to get out of Marco pronto. The very day Dad and I get back withthe horses. Maybe we can sell the horses out there. I'd take lessmoney. It'll be a big job driving a bunch of wild horses in to Marco. Anyway, we'll leave here pronto. "

To Lucy he bade a fond but not anxious good-by. "We won't be awaylong. And you'll be busy. Don't go into town! Not on any account. Send Alice. Or Mother can go when necessary. But you stay home. "

"Very well, boss, I promise, " replied Lucy roguishly. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Before dark that night Pan had most of his preparations made, so thatnext morning there would be nothing to do but eat, pack the horses, saddle up and ride. 

At suppertime Charley Brown and Mac New, alias Hurd, called at thecamp. The latter was a little the worse for the bottle. Charley wassober, hard, gloomy. 

"Howdy, boys. Help yourself to chuck. Then we'll talk, " said Pan. 

The outcome of that visit was the hiring of both men to go on thewild-horse drive. Brown's claim had been jumped by strangers. Itcould not be gotten back without a fight. Brown had two horses and acomplete outfit; Mac New had only the clothes on his back. 

"Fired me 'thout payin' my wages, " he said, sullenly. 

"Who fired you, Mac?" inquired Pan. 

"Hardman, the ---- ---- ----!" replied Mac New. 

"Well! That's strange. Does he own the jail?"

"Huh! Hardman owns this heah whole damn burg. "

"Nix, " spoke up Blinky. "Don't fool yourself there, pardner. JardHardman has a long string on Marco, I'll admit, but somebody's goin' tocut it. "

Brown had an interesting account to give of his meeting with DickHardman down at Yellow Mine. The young scion of the would-be dictatorof Marco fortunes had been drunk enough to rave about what he would doto Panhandle Smith. Some of his maudlin threats, as related by Brown, caused a good deal of merriment in camp, except to Blinky, who grewperfectly furious. 

"Hey, cowboy, are you goin' to stand fer thet?" he queried, belligerently. 

Pan tried to laugh it off, but Blinky manifestly had seen red at themention of Dick Hardman's name. He was going over to the Yellow Mineand pick a fight. Pan, finding Blinky stubborn and strange, adoptedother tactics. Drawing the irate cowboy aside he inquired kindly andfirmly: "It's because of Louise?"

"What's because?" returned Blinky, blusteringly. 

"That you want to pick a fight with Dick?"

"Naw, " replied Blinky, averting his face. 

"Don't you lie to me, Blinky, " went on Pan earnestly, shaking thecowboy. "I've guessed your trouble and I'm your friend. "

"Wal, Pan, I'm darn glad an' lucky if you're my friend, " said Blinky, won out of his sullenness. "But what trouble are you hintin' aboot?"

Pan whispered: "You're in love with Louise. "

"What if I am?" hissed Blinky, in fierce shame. "Are you holdin' thetagin me?"

"No, I'm damned if I don't like you better for it. "

That was too much for Blinky. He gazed mutely up at Pan, as a dog athis master. Pan never saw such eyes of misery. 

"Blinky, that girl is wicked, " went on Pan. "She's full of hellfire. But that's only the drink. She couldn't carry on that life withoutbeing drunk. She told me so. There's something great about thatlittle girl. I felt it, Blink. I liked her. I told her she didn'tbelong there. I believe she could be made a good woman. Why don't youtry it? I'll help you. She likes you. She told me that, too. "

"But Louise won't ever see me unless she's drunk, " protested Blinkysorrowfully. 

"That's proof. She doesn't want you wasting your time and money at theYellow Mine. She thinks you're too good for that--when she's sober. .. . Talk straight now, Blink. You do love her, bad as she is?"

"So help me I do!" burst out the cowboy abjectly. "It's purty nearkilled me. The more I see of her the more I care. I'm so sorry ferher I cain't stand it. .. . Dick Hardman fetched her out heah fromFrisco. Aw! She must have been bad before thet, I know. But shewasn't low down. Thet dive has done it. Wal, he never cared nothin'fer her an' she hates him. She swears she'll cut his heart out. An'I'm afraid she'll do it. Thet's why I'd like to stick a gun into hisbelly. "

"Marry Louise. Take her away. Come south with us to Arizona, " repliedPan persuasively. 

"My Gawd, pardner, you're too swift fer me, " whispered Blinky huskily, and he clutched Pan. "Would you let us go with you?"

"Sure. Why not? Lucy and my mother know nothing about Louise. Evenif they did they wouldn't despise a poor girl you and I believe is goodat heart and has been unfortunate. I'd rather not tell them, but Iwouldn't be afraid to. "

"But Louise won't marry me. "

"If we can't talk her into it when she's sober, by heaven we'll get herdrunk. .. . Now Blink, it's settled. Let's stay away from theretonight. Forget it. We'll go out and do the hard riding stunt of ourlives. We'll sell horses. With some money we can figure on homes farfrom this bitter country--_homes_, cowboy, do you savvy that? Withcattle and horses--some fine open grassy rolling country--where nobodyever heard of Blinky Moran and Panhandle Smith. "

"Pard, it ain't--my--right name, either, " mumbled Blinky, leaningagainst Pan. He was crying. 

"No difference, " replied Pan, holding the boy tight a moment. "Braceup, now, Blink. It's all settled. Go to bed now, I'll help Gus withthe horses. "

Pan left the cowboy there in the darkness, and returned to camp. Hisconscience questioned him, but he had only satisfaction, even gladnessin reply. Blinky had been one of the wild cowboys, and had been goingfrom bad to worse. If an overpowering love gripped him, a yielding toit in a right way might make a better man of him. Pan could not seeanything else. He had known more than one good-for-nothing cowboy, drinking and gambling himself straight to hell, who had fooled hisdetractors and had taken the narrow trail for a woman others deemedworthless. There was something about this kind of fight that appealedto Pan. As for the girl, Louise Melliss, and her reaction to such adesperate climax, Pan had only his strange faith that it might create arevolution in her soul. At least he was absolutely sure she wouldnever return to such a life, and she was young. 

Pan sought his blankets very late, and it seemed he scarcely had closedhis eyes when Juan called him. It was pitch dark outside. The boyswere stirring, the horses pounding, the campfire crackling. He pulledon his boots with a will. Glad he was to return to the life of camps, horses, cold dawns, hard fare and hard riding. He smelled the fryingham, the steaming coffee. 

"Mawnin', pardner, " drawled Blinky. "Shore thought you was daid. Graba pan of grub heah. .. . An' say, cowboy, from now on you can call meSomers--Frank Somers. I'm proud of the name, but I reckon it wasashamed of me. "

"Ah-huh! All right, Blink Somers, " replied Pan cheerfully. "You'llalways be Blink to me. "

They ate standing and sitting before the campfire, in the chillblackness just beginning to turn gray. Then swift hands and leanstrong arms went at beds and packs, horses and saddles. When dawnbroke the hunters were on their way, far up the cedar slope. 

Pan gazed back and down upon Marco, a ragged one-street town of motleyappearance, its white tents, its adobe huts, its stone buildings, andhigh board fronts, mute and still in the morning grayness. What greed, what raw wild life slept there!

Far beyond the town he saw the green-patched farm, the little graycabin where his mother and Lucy slept, no doubt dreaming of the hopeshe had fostered in them. Some doubt, some fear, intangible andinexplicable, passed over him as he looked. Would all be well withLucy? There was indeed much to be feared, and he could never givehappiness full rein until he had her safe away from Marco. 

Once out of sight of the town Pan forced himself to the job ahead. Andas always, to ride a good-gaited horse with open country ahead lulledhis mind into content. 

Blinky was first, leading a pack horse. Pan followed next, and theother four men strung out behind, with bobbing pack horses between. This ridge was the high ground between Marco Valley and Hot SpringsValley. Soon the trail led down, and it was dusty. The rising sunkilled the chill in the air, and by the time the hunters had reachedlevel ground again it was hot. There was alkali dust to breathe, always an abomination. From above, Pan had espied a green spot fifteenmiles or more down the valley. A number of dust devils were whirlingaround it. 

"What's that, Blink?" Pan had asked, pointing. 

"Thet's Hot Springs, an' the dust comes from wild hosses comin' todrink. "

They rode across the valley, which appeared to be five or six mileswide, to begin ascending another slope. The pack horses lagged and hadto be driven. Up and up the hunters climbed, once more into thecedars. Pan had another view of Hot Springs and the droves of wildhorses. He was surprised at their numbers. 

"Blink, there must be lots of horses water there. "

"Yep. Three thousand or more at this time of year. Many more later, when the droves get run out of the high country by man. An' you seeHardman's outfit has been chasin' them hosses fer two months. They'veshore purty well boggered. "

"Are many of them branded?"

"Darn few, " replied Blinky. "Not more'n five or six in a hundred. TheMexicans call them Arenajos. These wild hosses haven't been worthketchin' until lately. Most all broomtails. But now an' then youshore see a bunch of dandy mustangs, with a high-steppin' stallion. "

"Ah, now, cowboy, you're talking, " declared Pan. "You're singing tome. It'll be darn hard for me to sell horses like that. "

"Pard, I reckon we won't sell 'em, " replied Blinky. "Cain't we use afew strings of real hosses down there in Arizonie?"

"I should smile, " replied Pan. 

They climbed and crossed that ridge, which could have been called afoothill if there had been any mountains near. Another valley, narrowand rough, not so low as the last, lay between this ridge and the nextone, a cedared rise of rock and yellow earth that promised hard going. Beyond it rose the range of mountains, black and purple, and higherstill, white peaked into the blue. They called to Pan. This was wildcountry, and even to see it in the distance was all satisfying. 

This narrow valley also showed some wild-horse bands, but not many, forthere appeared to be scant grass and water. These horses were going orcoming, all on a trot, but when they sighted the hunters they wouldhalt stock-still. Soon a stallion trotted out a hundred paces or more, snorted and whistled, then taking to his heels he led his band away ina cloud of dust. Some of these bands would run a long way; otherswould halt soon to look back. 

The water which they had come to drink was not very good, according toPan's taste. His sorrel did not like it. This was Pan's firstexperience with hot alkali water. It came out almost boiling, too hotto drink, but a few rods from the spring it cooled off. 

The spring was surrounded by low trees still green, though many of theleaves had turned yellow. While the hunters watered there, Pan espiedanother herd of wild horses that trooped in below, and drank from thestream. He counted ten horses, mostly blacks and bays. The leader wasa buckskin, and Pan would not have minded owning him. The others werenot bad looking, of fair size, weighing around a thousand pounds, butthey showed inbreeding. After they had drunk their fill they pawed themud and rolled in the water, to come up most unsightly beasts. Pan letout a loud yell. Swift as antelopes the horses swept away. 

"Shore they left there!" drawled Blinky. Then talking to his ownhorse, which he slapped with his sombrero, he said: "Now you smelledthem broomies, didn't you? Want to run right off an' turn wild, huh!Wal, I'll shore keep a durn sharp eye on you, an' hobble you too. "

All the saddle horses, and even some of the pack animals, were affectedby the scent of the wild herd. Freedom still lived deep down in theirhearts. That was why a broken horse, no matter how gentle, became thewildest of the wild when he got free. 

Pan had been right in his judgment of the lay of the land on the nextridge. Climbing it was difficult. 

"When we ketch the wild hosses we can drive them down the valley an'round to the road, " said Blinky, evidently by way of excuse. "It'll belonger, but easy travelin'. Shore we couldn't drive any broomtailsheah. "

The summit of this ridge was covered with piñons and cedars, growing inheavy clumps around outcropping of ledges. Pan espied the blue flashof deer, through the gray and green. Deer sign was plentiful, a facthe observed with pleasure, for he liked venison better than beef. 

It was rather a wide-topped ridge, and not until Pan had reached anopen break on the far side could he see what kind of country lay beyond. 

"Wal, there she is, my wild hoss valley, " said Blinky, who sat hishorse alongside of Pan. "An' by golly, thet's the name for her--WildHoss Valley. Hey, pard?"

Pan nodded his acquiescence. In truth he had been rendered quitespeechless by the wildness and beauty of the scene below and beyondhim. A valley that had some of the characteristics of a canyon yawnedbeneath, so deep and wide that it appeared like a blue lake, so longthat he could only see the north end, which notched under a ruggedmountain slope, green and black and golden and white according to thesuccessive steps toward the heights. 

The height upon which he stood was the last of the ridges, for theelevation that lay directly across was a noble range of foothills, timbered, canyoned, apparently insurmountable for horses. Gray cliffsstood out of the green, crags of yellow rock mounted like castles. 

But it was the blue floor of the valley that longest held Pan'senraptured gaze. It looked level, though to an experienced eye thatwas deceitful. Grass and sage! What were the innumerable coloredrocks or bushes or dots that covered the whole floor of the valley?Pan wondered. Then he did not need to ask. They were wild horses!

"Aw, Blink! This'll be hard to leave!" he expostulated, as if hisfriend were to blame for this unexpected and bewildering spectacle. 

"You bet your sweet life it will, " agreed Blinky. "But we cain't hangup heah, moon eyed an' ravin'. We're holdin' up the outfit an' it's along way down to water. "

"Have you picked out a place where we'll be away--out of sight?"queried Pan quickly. 

"Wal, pard, I'm no wild hoss wrangler like you say you are, but I'vegot hoss sense, " drawled Blinky, as he urged his animal back into theyellow trail. 

Pan dismounted to walk, a habit he had always conformed to on steeptrails, when his horse needed freeing of a burden, and his own legswere the better for action. At times he got a glimpse of the valleythrough a hole in the trees, but for the most part he could not seedownward at all. Then he gazed across the open gulf to the mountains. These were not like the Rockies he knew so well by sight, the greatwhite-crowned sky-piercing peaks of Montana. These belonged more tothe desert, were wilder, with more color, not so lofty, and as raggedas jagged rock and fringed timber could make them. Gradually, as hedescended the trail, this range dropped back out of his sight. 

At near the sunset hour, when the journey was ended, Pan had tocompliment Blinky on the beautiful place to which he had guided them. It was isolated, and singularly fitted to their requirements. Theslope they had descended ran out into an immense buttress jutting farinto the valley. A low brushy arm of the incline extended out a halfmile to turn toward the main slope and to break off short, leaving anarrow opening out into the valley. The place was not only ideal for ahidden camp site, with plenty of water, grass, wood, but also for sucha wild-horse trap as Pan had in mind. What astonished Pan was thatmanifestly Blinky had not seen the possibilities of this peculiarformation of slope as a trap into which wild horses could be chased. 

"How wide is that gap?" asked Pan. 

"Reckon it cain't be more'n the length of two lassoes, " replied Blinky. 

"Rope it off high, boys, and turn the stock loose. This corral wasmade for us, " said Pan, enthusiastically. 

They set to work, each with self-assumed tasks that soon accomplishedthe whole business of pitching camp. Suppertime found them a cheerful, hungry, hopeful little band. Pan's optimism dominated them. Hebelieved in his luck, and they believed in him. 

Dusk settled down into this neck of the great valley. Coyotes barkedout in the open. From the heights pealed down the mournfulblood-curdling, yet beautiful, bay of a wolf. The rosy afterglow ofsunset lingered a long time. The place was shut in, closed about bybrushy steeps, redolent of sage. A tiny stream of swift water sangfaintly down over rocks. And before darkness had time to enfold hollowand slope and horizon, the moon slid up to defeat the encroaching nightand blanch the hills with silvery light. 

Interrogation by Pan brought out the fact that Blinky had never beendown this trail at all. It was only a wild horse trail anyway. Blinkyhad viewed the country from the heights above, and this marvelouslysecluded arm of the valley had been as unknown to him as to Pan. 

"Luck!" burst out Pan when the circumstance became clear. "Say, Blink, if your horse would jump you off a cliff you'd come up with QueenVictoria on your arm!"

Lying Juan sometimes broke into the conversation, very often by reasonof his defective hearing and his appalling habit of falsehood, bringinghis companions to the verge of hysterics. 

"Yes, yes, I was over to her place two, tree times, " began Juan, brightening with each word. "I drive en to many horse to her ranch. You bet I sell some damn good horse to Queen Victorie. I can tell youmyself Queen Victorie is a fine little woman I ever seen on my life. She make big a dance for me when I never seen so much supper on mylife. I dance with her myself an' she ata me an' say, 'Juanie, I neverdance lika this en my life till I dance with you, ' yes, that's surewhat she tell me to my own face an' eyes. "

Pan was the only one of Juan's listeners who had power of speech left, and he asked: "Juan, did you play any monte or poker with the queen?"

"You bet. She playa best game of poker I ever seen on my life an' shewon tree hunred dollars from me. "

Whereupon Pan succumbed to the riotous mirth. This laughter tickledLying Juan's supreme vanity. He was a veritable child in mentality, though he spoke English better than most Mexican laborers. Blinky wasthe only one who ever tried to match wits with Lying Juan. 

"Juan, thet shore reminds me of somethin', " began Blinky impressively. "Yea, hit shore does. Onct I almost got hitched up with Victorie. Iwas sort of figgerin' on marryin' her, but she got leary o' my littledesert farm back in Missourie. She got sorter skeered o' coyotes an'Injins. Now, I ain't got no use fer a woman like her an' thet's why mean' Queen Victorie ain't no longer friends. "

Most of the talk, however, invariably switched back to the burningquestion of the hour--wild horses. Pan had to attempt to answer ahundred queries, many of which were not explicit to his companions orsatisfactory to himself. Finally he lost patience. 

"Say, you long-eared jackasses, " he exploded. "I tell you it alldepends on the lay of the land. I mean the success of a big drive. Ifround the corner here there's good running ground--well, it'll be greatfor us. We'll look the ground over and size up the valley for horses. Find where they water and graze. If we decide to use this place as atrap to drive into we'll throw up two blind corrals just inside thatgateway out there. Then we'll throw a fence of cedars as far acrossthe valley as we can drag cedars. The farther the better. It'll haveto be a fence too thick and high for horses to break through or jumpover. That means work, my buckaroos, _work_! When that's done we'llgo up the valley, get behind the wild horses and drive them down. "

Loud indeed were the commendations showered upon Pan's plan. 

Blinky, who alone had not voiced his approval, cast an admiring eyeupon Pan. 

"Shore I've got dobe mud in my haid fer brains, " he said, with disgust. "Simple as apple pie, an' I never onct thought of ketchin' wild hossesthet a way. "

"Blink, that's because you never figured on a wholesale catch, " repliedPan. "Moonshining wild horses, as you called it, and roping, andcreasing with a rifle bullet, never answered for numbers. It wouldn'tpay us to try those methods. We want at least a thousand head in onedrive. "

"Aw! Aw! Pan, don't work my hopes to believin' thet, " imploredBlinky, throwing up his hands. 

"Son, I'm cryin' for mercy too, " added Pan's father. "An' I'm goin' toturn in on that one. "

Lying Juan, either from design or accident, found this an admirableopening. 

"My father was big Don in Mexico. He hada tree tousand _vacqueros_ onour rancho. We chase wild horse many days, more horse than I ever seeon my life. I helpa lass more horse than I ever see on my life. Imake tree tousand peso by my father's rancho. "

"Juan, I pass, " declared Pan. "You've got my hand beat. Boys, let'sunroll the tarps. It has been a sure enough riding day. "

CHAPTER TWELVE

Pan's father was an early riser, and next morning he routed everybodyout before the clear white morning star had gone down in the velvetblue sky. 

Before breakfast, while the others were wrangling horses, packing woodand water, he climbed the steep end of the bluff between camp and thevalley. Upon his return he was so excited over the number of wildhorses which he claimed to have seen that Pan feared he had fallenvictim to Lying Juan's malady. 

"I hope Dad's not loco, " said Pan. "But our luck is running heavy. Let's play it for all we're worth. I'll climb that bluff, too, and seefor myself. Then we'll ride out into the valley, get the lay of theland, and find the best place for our trap. "

Blinky accompanied Pan to the ridge which they climbed at a pointopposite camp. Probably it was four or five hundred feet high, andprovided a splendid prospect of the valley. Pan could scarcely believehis eyes. He saw wild horses--so many that for the time being heforgot the other important details. He counted thirty bands in asection of the valley no more than fifteen miles long and less thanhalf as wide. These were individual bands, keeping to themselves, eachundoubtedly having a leader. 

Blinky swore lustily in his enthusiasm, evidently thinking of the moneythus represented. "---- ---- ---- who'd ever think of these heahbroomies turnin' into a gold mine?" he ended his tribute to the scene. 

But to Pan it meant much more than fortune; indeed at first he had nomercenary thought whatsoever. Horses had been the passion of his life. Cattle had been only beef, hoofs, horns to him. Horses he loved. Naturally then wild horses would appeal to him with more thrill andtransport than those that acknowledged the mastery of man. 

Cowboys were of an infinite variety of types, yet they all fell undertwo classes: Those who were brutal with horses and those who weregentle. The bronco, the outlaw, the wild horse had to be broken to beridden. Many of them hated the saddle, the bit, the rider, and wouldnot tolerate them except when mastered. These horses had to be hurt tobe subdued. Then there were cowboys, great horsemen, who never wantedany kind of a horse save one that would kick, bite, pitch. It was akind of cowboy vanity. Panhandle Smith did not have it. He had brokenbad horses and he had ridden outlaws, but because of his humanity hewas not so great a horseman as he might have been. In almost everyoutfit where Pan had worked there had always been one cowboy, sometimesmore, who could beat him riding. 

Because of this genuine love for horses, the beautiful wild-horsepanorama beneath Pan swelled his heart. He gazed and gazed. From nearto far the bands dotted the green-gray valley. Far away this valleyfloor shaded into blue. Near at hand the colors were easilydistinguishable. Blacks and bays, whites and chestnuts, pintos thatresembled zebras dotted this wild pasture land. The closest band towhere Pan and Blinky stood could not have been more than a miledistant, in a straight line. A shiny black stallion was the leader ofthis herd. He was acting strangely, too, trotting forward and halting, tossing his head and long black mane. 

"Stallion!" exclaimed Pan, pointing. "What a jim-dandy horse! Blink, he has spotted us, sure as you're born. Talk about eyesight!"

"Wal, the broomtailed son-of-a-bronc!" drawled Blinky, tapping acigarette against his palm. "Reckon, by gosh, you're correct. "

"Blink, that's a wild stallion--a wonderful horse. I'll bet he's gameand fast, " protested Pan. 

"Wal, you're safe to gamble on his bein' fast, anyways. "

"Didn't you ever really care for a horse?" queried Pan. 

"Me? Hell no! I've been kicked in the stummick--bit on the ear--piledonto the mud--drug in the dust too darn often. "

"You'll admit, though, that there are some fine horses among these?"asked Pan earnestly. 

"Wal, Pan, to stop kiddin' you, now an' then a fellar sees a real hossamong them broomies. But shore them boys are the hard ones to ketch. "

The last of Blinky's remark forced Pan's observation upon thecardinally important point--the lay of the land. A million wild horsesin sight would be of no marketable value if they could not be trapped. So he bent his keen gaze here and there, up and down the valley, acrossto the far side, and upon the steep wall near by. 

"Blink, see that deep wash running down the valley? It looks a gooddeal closer to the far side. That's a break in the valley floor allright. It may be a wonderful help to us, and it may ruin our chances. "

"Reckon we cain't tell much from heah. Thet's where the water runs, when there is any. Bet it's plumb dry now. "

"We'll ride out presently and see. But I'm almost sure it's a deepwide wash, with steep walls. Impassable! And by golly, if that'sso--you're a rich cowboy. "

"Haw! Haw! Gosh, the way you sling words around. "

"Now let's work along this ridge, down to the point where Dad went. Wasn't he funny?"

"He's shore full of ginger. Wal, I reckon he's perked up since youcome. "

Brush and cactus, jumbles of sharp rocks, thickets of scrub oak anddumps of dwarf cedars, all matted along the narrow hog-back, as Blinkycalled it, made progress slow and tedious. No cowboy ever climbed andwalked so well as he rode. At length, however, Pan and Blinky arrivedat the extreme end of the capelike bluff. It stood higher than theirfirst lookout. 

Pan, who arrived at a vantage point ahead of Blinky, let out astentorian yell. Whereupon his companion came running. 

"Hey, what's eatin' you?" he panted. "Rattlesnakes or wild hosses?"

"Look!" exclaimed Pan, waving his hand impressively. 

The steep yellow slope opposite them, very close at the point where thebluff curved in, stretched away almost to the other side of the valley. Indeed it constituted the southern wall of the valley, and was brokenonly by the narrow pass below where the cowboys stood, and anotherwider break at the far end. From this point the wash that had puzzledPan proved to be almost a canyon in dimensions. It kept to the lowestpart of the valley floor and turned to run parallel with the slope. 

"Blink, suppose we run a fence of cedars from the slope straight out tothe wash. Reckon that's two miles and more. Then close up any gapsalong this side of the valley. What would happen?" suggested Pan, withbright eyes on his comrade. 

Blinky spat out his cigarette, a sign of unusual emotion for him. 

"You doggone wild-hoss wrangler!" he ejaculated, with starting eyes andhealthy grin. "Shore I begin to get your hunch. Honest, I never tillthis heah minnit thought so damn much of your idee. You shore gottaexcuse me. A blind man could figger this deal heah. .. . Big corralshid behind the gate under us--long fence out there to the wash--closeup any holes on this side of valley--then make a humdinger of adrive. .. . Cowboy, shore's you're born I'm seein' my Arizona ranchright this minnit!"

"Reckon I'm seeing things too, " agreed Pan in suppressed excitement. "I said once before it's too good to be true. Dad wasn't loco. Nowonder he raved. .. . Blink, is there _any_ mistake?"

"What about?"

"The market for wild horses. "

"Absolutely, no, " declared Blinky vehemently. "It's new. Only startedlast summer. Wiggate made money. He said so. Thet's what fetched theHardmans nosin' into the game. Mebbe this summer will kill thebizness, but right now we're safe. We can sell all the hosses we canketch, right heah on the hoof, without breakin' or drivin'. It's onlya day's ride from Marco, less than thet over the hills the way we come. We can sell at Marco or we can drive to the railroad. I'd say sell atten dollars a haid right heah an' whoop. "

"I should smile, " replied Pan. "It'll take us ten days or more, working like beavers to cut and drag the cedars to build that fence. More time if there are gaps to close along this side. Then all we'vegot to do is drive the valley. One day will do it. Why, I never sawor heard of such a trap. You can bet it will be driven only once. Thewild horses we don't catch will steer clear of this valley. Butbreaking a big drove, or driving them to Marco--that'd be a job I'drather dodge. It'd take a month, even with a small herd. "

"Hardman an' Wiggate have several outfits working, mebbe fifty ridersall told. They've been handlin' hosses. Reckon Wiggate would jump atbuyin' up a thousand haid, all he could get. He's from St. Louis an'what he knows aboot wild hosses ain't a hell of a lot. I've talkedwith him. "

"Blinky, old-timer, we've got the broomies sold. Now let's figure oncatching them, " replied Pan joyfully. "And we'll cut out a few of thebest for ourselves. "

"An' a couple fer our lady friends, hey, pard!" added Blinky, withviolence of gesture and speech. 

Down the steep slope, through brush and thickets, they slid like acouple of youngsters on a lark. Pan found the gateway between bluffand slope even more adaptable to his purposes than it had appeared froma distance. The whole lay of the land was miraculously advantageous tothe drive and the proposed trap. 

"Oh, it's too darn good, " cried Pan, incredulously. "It'll be tooeasy. It makes me afraid. "

"Thet somethin' unforeseen will happen, huh?" queried Blink, shrewdly. "I had the same idee. "

"But what could happen?" asked Pan, darkly speculative. 

"Wal, to figger the way things run fer me an' Gus out heah I'd saythis, " replied Blinky, with profound seriousness. "We'll do all thecuttin' an' draggin' an' buildin'. We close up any gaps. We'll workour selves till we're daid in our boots. Then we'll drive--drive themwild hosses as hosses was never drove before. "

"Well, what then?" queried Pan sharply. 

"Drive 'em right in heah where Hardman's outfit will be waitin'!"

"My God, man, " flashed Pan hotly. "Such a thing couldn't happen. "

"Wal, it just could, " drawled Blinky, "an' we couldn't do a damn thingbut fight. "

"Fight?" repeated Pan passionately. The very thought of a contingencysuch as Blinky had suggested made the hot red blood film his eyes. 

"Thet's what I said, pard, " replied his comrade coolly. "An' it wouldbe one hell of a fight, with all the best of numbers an' guns onHardman's side. We've got only three rifles besides our guns, an' notmuch ammunition. I fetched all we had an' sent Gus for more. ButBlack didn't send thet over an' I forgot to go after it. "

"We can send somebody back to Marco, " said Pan broodingly. "Say, you've given me a shock. I never thought of such a possibility. I seenow it _could_ happen, but the chances are a thousand to one againstit. "

"Shore. It's hardly worth guessin' aboot. But there's thet onechance. An' we're both afeared of somethin' strange. All we can do, Pan, is gamble. "

On the way back to camp, Pan, pondering very gravely over the question, at last decided that such a bold raid was a remote possibility, andthat his and Blinky's subtle reaction to the thought came from theirhighly excited imaginations. The days of rustling cattle and stealinghorses on a grand scale were gone into the past. Hardman'smachinations back there in Marco were those of a crooked man who playedsafe. There was nothing big or bold about him, none of the earmarks ofthe old frontier rustler. Matthews was still less of a character tofear. Dick Hardman was a dissolute and depraved youth, scarcely to beconsidered. Purcell, perhaps, or others of like ilk, might have to bedrawn upon sooner or later, but that being a personal encounter causedPan no anxiety. Thus he allayed the doubts and misgivings that hadbeen roused over Blinky's supposition. 

"Let's see, " he asked when he reached camp. "How many horses have we, all told?"

"Thirty-one, countin' the pack hosses, an' thet outlaw sorrel ofyours, " replied Blinky. 

"Reckon we'll have to ride them all. Dragging cedars pulls a horsedown. "

"Some of 'em we cain't ride, leastways I cain't. "

"Grab some ropes and nose bags, everybody, and we'll fetch the stringinto camp, " ordered Pan. 

In due time all the horses were ridden and driven back to camp, where atemporary corral had been roped off in a niche of the slope. 

"Wal, fellars, it's find a hoss you haven't rid before, " sang outBlinky, "an' everyone fer himself. "

There was a stout, round-barreled buckskin that Pan's father had hiseye on. 

"Don't like his looks, Dad, " warned Pan. "Say, Blink, how about thiswormy-looking buck?"

"Wal, he's hell to get on, but there never was a better hoss wrapped upin thet much hide. "

Pan caught him and led him out of the corral. Just as the horsestepped over the rope fence, which Pan held down, he plunged and made abreak to get loose, dragging Pan at the end of a thirty-foot lasso. There was a lively tussle, which Pan finally won. 

"Whoa, you bean-headed jasper, " he yelled. "I'll ride you myself. "

His father caught a brown bald-faced horse, nothing much to look at, that acted gentle enough until he was mounted. Then!--He arched hisback, jumped up stiff legged, and began to pitch. Evidently Smith hadbeen a horseman in his day. He stayed on. 

"Hang on, Dad, " yelled Pan in delight. 

"Ride him, cowboy, " shrieked Blinky. 

Fortunately for Smith, the horse was not one of the fiery devilishspecies that would not be ridden. He straightened out presently andcalmed down. 

"He was goin' to pile me--shore, " declared Smith. 

Charley Brown caught a blue-gray, fine-looking horse, whose appearance, no doubt had attracted the miner; but he turned out to be acounterfeit, and Charley "bit the dust, " as Blinky called it. Whereupon Charley had recourse to the animal he had ridden from Marco. Hurd showed he was a judge of horses and could ride. Blinky evidentlywas laboring under the urge that caused so much disaster amongriders--he wanted to try a new horse. So he caught a jug-headed baythat did not look as if he could move out of his own way. 

"Blink, you must be figuring on sleeping some?" inquired Pan. 

"Humph! he'll walk back, " snorted Gus. "I tried thet pack animal. He's hell fer breakfast. "

"Gus, if I was goin' to walk I'd leave my saddle heah in camp, " drawledBlinky. 

"Blink, I'll let you ride in behind me, " added Pan. 

As a matter of fact, Pan was not having much luck propitiating thehorse he had selected. Every time Pan would reach under for the cinchthe horse would kick at him and throw off the saddle. 

"Hey, Blink, come here, " called Pan impatiently. "Hold this nice kindhorse. What'd you call him?"

"Dunny, " replied Blink. "An' he's a right shore enough good hoss. .. . I'll hold him. "

Blinky grasped the cars of the horse but that did not work, so Panroped his front feet. Blinky held the beast while Pan put the saddleon, but when he gave the cinch a pull Dunny stood up with a wild shriekand fell over backwards. He would have struck square on the saddle ifBlinky had not pulled him sideways. Fortunately for Pan the horserolled over to the right. 

"Pan, turn that thing loose an' catch a horse you can get on, " calledhis father. 

"Don't worry, Dad. I'm ararin' to ride this bird. "

"Pard, Dunny will be nice after you buckle down thet saddle an' getforked on him good, " drawled Blinky, with his deceitful grin. "He'sshore a broomie-chasin' devil. "

Pan said: "Blink, I'll fool you in a minute. .. Hold him down now. Step on his nose. " Pulling the right stirrup out from under the horsePan drew the cinch a couple of holes tighter, and then straddled him. 

"Let him up, Blink. "

"All right, pard. Tell us where you want to be buried, " repliedBlinky, loosing the lasso and jumping free. 

With a blast of rage Dunny got up. But he cunningly got up with hisback first, head down between his legs, and stiff as a poker. Hescattered the horses and whooping men, bucked over the campfire and thebeds; then with long high leaps, he tore for the open. 

"High, wide an' handsome, " yelled Blinky, in a spasm of glee. "Ridehim, you Texas cowpunchin' galoot! You'll shore be the first one whoever forked him fer keeps. "

"Blink--if he--piles me--I'll lick you!" yelled back Pan. 

"Lick nothin', " bawled Blinky, "you'll need a doctor. "

But Pan stayed on that horse, which turned out to be the meanest andmost violent bucker he had ever bestrode. Less powerful horses hadthrown him. Eventually the plunging animal stopped, and Pan turned himback to camp. 

"Wal, you son-of-a-gun!" ejaculated Blinky, in genuine admiration. "How'd you ever keep company with him?"

"Grin, you idiot, " panted Pan, good humoredly. "Now men--we're readyto look the valley over. I'll take Dad with me. Blink, you and Gusturn the corner here and keep close under the slope all the way up thevalley. Look out for places where the wild horses might climb out. Charley, you and Mac New cross to the other side of the valley, if youcan. Look the ground over along that western wall. And everybody keepeyes peeled for wild horses, so we can get a line on numbers. "

They rode out through the gateway into the valley, where they separatedinto pairs. Pan, with his father, headed south along the slope. Hefound distances somewhat greater than he had estimated from the bluff, and obstacles that he had not noted at all. But by traveling fartherdown he discovered a low ledge of rock, quite a wall in places, thatzigzagged out from the slope for a goodly distance. It had breaks hereand there which could easily be closed up with brush. This wall wouldserve very well for part of the fence, and from the end of it out tothe wash there was comparatively level ground. Half a mile up theslope the cedars grew thickly, so that the material for the fence waseasily accessible. 

The wash proved to be a perpendicularly walled gorge fifty or more feetdeep with a sandy dry floor. It wound somewhat west by north up thevalley, and as far as he could see did not greatly differ in proportionfrom the point where the fence was to touch. 

"Dad, there are likely to be side washes, or cuts up toward the head, where horses could get down, " said Pan. "We'll fence right acrosshere. So if we do chase any horses into the wash we'll stop them here. Sure, this long hole would make a great trap. "

From that point they rode up the wash and gradually out into the middleof the valley. Bands of wild horses trooped away in the distance. Clouds of moving dust beyond the rolling ridges of the valley told ofothers in motion. They were pretty wild, considering that they hadnever been chased. At length Pan decided that many of these herds hadcome into this valley from other points nearer to Marco. Some bandsstood on ridge tops, with heads erect, manes flying, wild and ragged, watching the two riders move along the wash. 

Pan did not observe any evidence of water, but he hardly expected tofind any in that wash. A very perceptible ascent in that directionexplained the greater number of horses. The sage was stubby and ratherscant near at hand, yet it lent the beautiful color that was soappreciable from a distance. 

Intersecting washes were few and so deep and steep-walled that thereneed be no fear of horses going down them into the main wash. Out-croppings of rock were rare; the zone of cactus failed as thevalley floor lost its desert properties; jack rabbits bounded awaybefore the approach of the horses; a few lean gray coyotes trotted upto rises of ground, there to watch the intruders. 

Pan had been deceived in his estimate of the size of the valley. Theyrode ten miles west before they began to get into rougher ground, scalywith broken rock, and gradually failing in vegetation. The notch ofthe west end loomed up, ragged and brushy, evidently a wild jumble ofcliffs, ledges, timber and brush. The green patch at the foot meantwater and willows. Pan left his father to watch from a high pointwhile he rode on five miles farther. The ascent of the valley was likea bowl. The time came when he gazed back and down over the wholevalley. Before him lines and dots of green, widely scattered, told ofmore places where water ran. Strings of horses moved to and fro, sofar away that they were scarcely distinguishable. Beyond these pointsno horses could be seen. The wash wound like a black ribbon out ofsight. The vast sloping lines of valley swept majestically down fromthe wooded bluff-like sides. It was an austere, gray hollow of theearth, with all depressions and ridges blending beautifully into thesoft gray-green dotted surface. 

Pan rode back to join his father. 

"It's a big place, and we've got a big job on our hands, " he remarked. 

"While you was gone a band of two hundred or more run right under me, comin' from this side, " replied Smith with beaming face. "Broomtailsan' willowtails they may be, as those boys call them, but I'll tellyou, son, some of them are mighty fine stock. The leader of this bunchhad a brand on his flank. He was white an' I saw it plain. I'd shorelike to own him. "

"Dad, I'll bet we catch some good ones to take with us to Arizona. Ifwe only had more time!"

"Pan, it'd pay us to work here all winter. "

"You bet. But Dad, I--I want to take Lucy away from Marco, " repliedPan hesitatingly. "When I let myself think, I'm worried. She's only akid, and she might be scared or driven. "

"Right, son, " said Smith, soberly. "Those Hardmans would try anythin'. "

"We'll stick to the original plan, and that's to make a quick harddrive--then rustle out of New Mexico. "

When they rode into the gateway the day was far spent, and the west wasdarkly ablaze with subdued fire. 

Pan's father showed his unfamiliarity with long horseback rides and hemade sundry remarks, mirth provoking to his son. 

"I'll make a cowboy and horse wrangler of you again, " threatened Pan. 

By the time Lying Juan had supper ready Blinky and Gus rode in camp. 

"Hungrier'n a wolf, " said Blinky. 

"Well, what's the verdict?" asked Pan with a smile. 

"Wuss an' more of it, " drawled Blinky. "We seen most five thousandhosses, an' I'll be doggoned if I don't believe we'll ketch them all. "

"You found this side of the valley a regular hole-proof wing for ourtrap, I'll bet, " asserted Pan. 

"Wal, there's places where hosses could climb out easy, but they won'ttry it, " replied Blinky. "The valley slopes up long an' easy to thewall. But when we drive them hosses they'll keep down in the center, between the risin' ground an' thet wash. They'll run far past themplaces where they could climb out. I shore lose my breath whenever Ithink of what's comin' off. I reckon the valley is a made-to-ordercorral. "

"Blink, you have some intelligence after all, " replied Pan, chaffingly. "Did you see any sign of Brown and Mac New?"

"Not after we separated this mawnin', " returned Blinky. "An' thetreminds me, pard, I've got somethin' to tell you. This fellar Hurd--orMac New as you call him--has a pocketful of gold coin. "

"How do you know?" queried Pan bluntly. 

"Gus kicked his coat this mawnin', over there where Mac New had hisbed, an' a pile of gold eagles rolled out. Just by accident. Guswanted somethin' or other. He was plumb surprised, an' he said Mac Newwas plumb flustered. Now what you make of thet?"

"By golly, Blink, I don't know. There's no reason why he shouldn'thave some money, yet it strikes me queer. How much gold?"

"Aw, two or three hundred easy, " rejoined Blinky. "It struck me sortof queer, too. I recollected thet he told us he'd only been doin'guard duty at the jail fer a couple of months. An' Gus recollected hownot long before Mac New went to work he'd been a regular grub-linerunner. We fed him heah, or Juan did. Now, pard, it may be all rightan' then again it mayn't. Are you shore aboot him?"

"Blink, you make me see how I answer to some feeling that's notpractical, " returned Pan, much perturbed. "Mac was an outlaw inMontana. Maybe worse. Anyway I saved him one day from being strungup. That was on the Powder River, when I was riding for Hurley's X Y Zoutfit. They were a hard lot. And Mac's guilt wasn't clear to me. Anyway, I got him out of a bad mess, on condition he'd leave thecountry. "

"Ahuh! Wal, I see. But it's a shore gamble he's one of Hardman'soutfit now, same as Purcell. "

"Reckon he was. But he got fired. "

"Thet's what _he_ says. "

"Blink, you advise me not to trust Mac New?" queried Pan dubiously. 

"I ain't advisin' nobody. If you want my opinion, I'd say, now I knowwhat you done fer Mac New, thet he wouldn't double-cross you. When itcomes down under the skin there ain't much difference between outlawsan' other range men in a deal like thet. "

"Well, I'll trust him just because of that feeling I can't explain, "returned Pan. 

He did not, however, forget the possible implication, and it hovered inhis mind. It was after dark when Mac New and Brown rode into camp. Pan and the others were eating their supper. 

"We had to ride clean to the end of the valley to cross that wash, "said Brown. "It's rough country. Horses all down low. Didn't see somany, at that, until we rimmed around way up on this side. "

"Fine. You couldn't have pleased me more, " declared Pan. "Now Mac, what do you say?"

"About this heah hoss huntin'?" queried Mac New. 

"Yes. Our prospects, I mean. You've chased wild horses. "

"It'll be most as bad as stealin' hosses, " replied the outlaw, laconically. "Easy work an' easy money. "

"Say, you won't think it's easy work when you get to dragging cedarsdown that hill in the hot sun all day. I don't know anything harder. "

Early next morning the labor began and proceeded with the utmostdispatch. The slope resounded with the ring of axes. Pan's father wasa capital hand at chopping down trees, and he kept two horsemendragging cedars at a lively rate. The work progressed rapidly, but thefence did not seem to grow in proportion. 

As Pan dragged trees out to the sloping valley floor, raising a cloudof dust, he espied a stallion standing on the nearest ridge, half amile away. How wild and curious!

"You better look sharp, you raw-boned sage eater!" called Pan. 

Twice more this same horse evinced intelligent curiosity. Pan couldnot see any signs of a band with him. But other wild horses showed atdifferent points, none however so close as this gray black-spottedstallion. Blinky was sure this horse had not always been wild. Manifestly he knew the ways of his archenemy, man. 

With three cutters and three riders dragging cedars, allowing for arest of an hour at noon the fence grew to a length of a quarter of amile from the slope. 

"Not so good, " declared Pan, when they left off work for the day. "Butthat fence is high and thick. It will take an old stallion like thatgray to break through it. "

"Wal, my idee is thet we did grand, " replied Blinky, wiping his sweatyface. "Besides all the choppin' and haulin' Gus found time to kill adeer. "

It was a tired, sweaty and dust-begrimed party of hunters thatdescended upon Lying Juan for supper. After their hearty meal theygathered round the campfire to smoke and talk. This night Mac Newjoined the group, and though he had nothing to say he listenedattentively and appeared to fit in more. Pan was aware of how theformer outlaw watched him. The conversation, of course, centered roundthe plan and execution of work, and especially the wonderful drive theyexpected to make. If they could have at once started the drive, itwould have been over and done with before their interest had time togrow intense. But the tremendous task of preparation ahead augmentedthe anticipation and thrill of that one day when they must ride likethe wind. 

Next day they did not go back to the fence, but worked at the gatewayon the blind corrals. Pan constructed the opening to resemble a narrowaisle of scrub oak. Material for this they cut from the bluff and slidit down to the level. By sunset one corral had been almost completed. It was large enough to hold a thousand horses. One third of it wasfenced by the bluff. 

Two more days were required to build the second blind corral, which waslarger, and though it opened from the first it did not run along thebluff. As this one was intended for chasing and roping horses, as wellas simply holding them, the fence was made an almost impenetrable massof thick foliaged cedars reinforced, where necessary, with stuffings ofscrub-oak brush. Pan was so particular that he tried to construct abarrier which did not have sharp projecting spikes of dead branchessticking out to cut a horse. 

"By gum, I shore don't believe you ever was a regular cowpuncher, "declared Blinky testily, after having been ordered to do additionallabor on a portion of the fence. 

"Blink, we're dealing with horses, not cows, " answered Pan. 

"But, good Lord, man, a cow is as feelin' as a hoss any day, " protestedBlinky. 

"You'll be swearing you love cows next, " laughed Pan. "Nope. We'll doour work well. Then the chances are we won't spike any of thosethoroughbreds we want to break for Arizona. "

"Say, I'll bet two bits you won't let us sell a single gosh-darnedbroomie, " added Blinky. 

"Go to bed, Blink, " rejoined Pan, in pretended compassion. "You're allin. This isn't moonshining wild horses. "

In the succeeding days Pan paced up the work, from dawn until dark. Aweek more saw the long fence completed. It was an obstacle few horsescould leap. Pan thought he would love to see the stallion that coulddo it. 

Following the completion of the fence, they built a barrier across thewash. And then to make doubly sure Pan divided his party into threecouples, each with instructions to close all possible exits along thebranches of the wash, and the sides of the slope. 

During the latter part of this work, the bands of wild horses movedfarther westward. But as far as Pan could tell, none left the valley. They had appeared curious and wary, then had moved out of sight overthe ridges in the center of the great oval. 

The night that they finished, with two weeks of unremitting toil indust and heat behind them, was one for explosive satisfaction. 

"Fellars, my pard Panhandle is one to tie to, " declared Blinky, "butexcoose me from ridin' any range where he was foreman. "

"Blink, you'll soon be cowboy, foreman, boss--the whole outfit on yourown Arizona ranch. "

"Pard, I'll shore drink to thet, if anybody's got any licker. "

If there were any other bottles in the camp, Mac New's was the only onethat came to light. It was passed around. 

"Now, men, listen, " began Pan when they had found comfortable seatsaround the campfire. "It's all over but the shouting--and the riding. You listen too, Juan, for you've got to fork a horse and drive with us. As soon as it's light enough to see, we'll take the fresh horses we'vebeen saving and ride across the valley. It's pretty long around, but Iwant to come up behind all these bands of wild horses. Pack your gunsand all the shells you've got. We'll take stands at the best place, which we'll decide from the location of the horses. Reckon that'll beabout ten miles west. You'll all see when we get there how the neck ofthe valley narrows down till it's not very wide. Maybe a matter of twomiles of level ground, with breaks running toward each slope. We'llstring across this, equal distances apart and begin our drive. If westart well and don't let any horses break our line, we'll soon get themgoing and then each band will drive with us. Ride like hell, shoot andyell your head off to turn back any horses that charge to get betweenus. Soon as we get a few hundred moving, whistling, trampling andraising the dust, that'll frighten the bands ahead. They'll begin tomove before they see us. Naturally as the valley widens we've got tospread. But if we once get a wide scattering string of horses runningahead of us we needn't worry about being separated. When we get themgoing strong, there'll be a stampede. Sure a lot of horses will foolus one way or another, but we ought to chase half the number on thisside of the valley clear to our fence. That'll turn them toward thegate to the blind corrals. We'll close in there, and that'll takeriding, my buckaroos!"

Blinky was the most obstreperously responsive to Pan's long harangue. Pan thought he understood the secret of the cowboy's strange elation. After all, what did Blinky care for horses or money? He had been ahomeless wandering range rider, a hard-drinking reckless fellow withfew friends, and those only for the hour of the length of a job. Thesuccess of this venture, if it turned out so, meant that Blinky woulddo the one big act of his life. He would take the girl Louise from hersurroundings, give her a name that was honest and a love that wasgreat, and rise or fall with her. Pan had belief in human nature. Inendless ways his little acts of faith had borne fruit. 

The hunters stayed up later than usual, and had to be reminded twice byPan of the strenuous morrow. 

When Pan made for his own bed Mac New followed him in the darkness. 

"Smith, I'd like a word with you, " said the outlaw, under his breath. His eyes gleamed out of his dark face. 

"Sure, Mac, glad to hear you, " replied Pan, not without a little shock. 

"I've stuck on heah, haven't I?" queried Mac New. 

"You sure have. I wouldn't ask a better worker. And if the drive isall I hope for, I'll double your money. "

"Wal, I didn't come with you on my own hook, " rejoined the other, hurriedly. "Leastways it wasn't my idee. Hardman got wind of yourhoss-trappin' scheme. Thet was after he'd fired me without my wages. Then he sent fer me, an' he offered me gold to get a job with you an'keep him posted if you ketched any big bunch of hosses. "

Here the outlaw clinked the gold coin in his coat pocket. 

"I took the gold, an' said I'd do it, " went on Mac New deliberately. "But I never meant to double-cross you, an' I haven't. Reckon I mighthave told you before. It jest didn't come, though, till tonight. "

"Thanks, Mac, " returned Pan, extending his hand to the outlaw. "Iwasn't afraid to trust you. .. Hardman's playing a high hand, then?"

"Reckon he is, an' thet's a hunch. "

"All right, Mac. I'm thinking you're square with me, " replied Pan. 

After the outlaw left, Pan sat on his bed pondering this latest aspectof the situation. Mac New's revelation was what Pan would haveexpected of such a character. Bad as he was, he seemed a white mancompared with this underhanded greedy Hardman. Even granting Hardman'sgradual degeneration, Pan could not bring himself to believe the manwould attempt any open crooked deal. Still this attempt to bribe MacNew had a dubious look. Pan did not like it. If his wild horseexpedition had not reached the last day he would have sent Blinky backto Marco or have gone himself to see if Hardman's riders could belocated. But it was too late. Pan would not postpone the drive, comewhat might. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

At last the cold night wind reminded Pan that he had not yet rolled inhis blankets, which he had intended to do until Mac New's significantstatement had roused somber misgiving. He went to bed, yet despite theexertions of the long day, slumber was a contrary thing that he couldnot woo. 

He lay under the transparent roof of a makeshift shelter of boughsthrough which the stars showed white and brilliant. For ten years andmore he had lain out on most nights under the open sky, with wind andrain and snow working their will on him, and the bright stars, likestrange eyes, watching him. During the early years of his range lifehe used to watch the stars in return and wonder what was their message. And now, since his return home, he seemed so much closer to his belovedboyhood. Tonight the stars haunted him. Over the ridge tops a fewmiles, they were shining in the window of Lucy's tiny room, perhapslighting her fair face. It seemed that these stars were telling himall was not well in Lucy's mind and heart. He could not shake theinsidious vague haunting thought, and longed for dawn, so that in thesunlight he could dispel all morbid doubts and the shadows that came inthe night. 

So for hours he lay there, absorbed in mind. It was not so silent anight as usual. The horses were restless, as if some animal wereprowling about. He could hear the sudden trampling of hoofs as anumber of horses swiftly changed their location. The coyotes were infull chorus out in the valley. A cold wind fitfully stirred thebranches, whipped across his face. One of his comrades, Blinky hethought, was snoring heavily. 

Pan grew unaccountably full of dread of unknown things. His sensitivemind had magnified the menace hinted at by Mac New. It was a matter offeeling which no intelligent reasoning could dispel. Midnight camebefore he finally dropped into restless slumber. 

At four o'clock Lying Juan called the men to get up. He had breakfastalmost ready. With groans and grunts and curses the hunters rolledout, heavy with sleep, stiff of joints, vacant of mind. Blinkyrequired two calls. 

They ate in the cold gray dawn, silent and glum. A hot breakfast actedfavorably upon their mental and physical make-ups, and some briskaction in catching and saddling horses brought them back to normal. Still there was not much time for talk. 

The morning star was going down in an intense dark blue sky when theseven men rode out upon their long-planned drive. The valley was agreat obscure void, gray, silent, betraying nothing of its treasure tothe hunters. They crossed the wash below the fence, where they had dugentrance and exit, and turned west at a brisk trot. Daylight camelingeringly. The valley cleared of opaque light. Like a gentlerolling sea it swept away to west and north, divided by its thin darkline, and faintly dotted by bands of wild horses. 

In the eastern sky, over the far low gap where the valley failed, thepink light deepened to rose, and then to red. A disk of golden firetipped the bleak horizon. The whole country became transformed as ifwith life. The sun had risen on this memorable day for Pan Smith andhis father, and for Blinky Somers. Nothing of the black shadows anddoubts and fears of night! Pan could have laughed at himself in scorn. Here was the sunrise. How beautiful the valley! There were the wildhorses grazing near and far, innumerable hundreds and thousands ofthem. The thought of the wonderful drive gripped Pan in thrillingfascination. Horses! Horses! Horses! The time, the scene, theimpending ride called to him as nothing ever had. The thrillingcapture of wild horses would alone have raised him to the heights. Howmuch more tremendous, then, an issue that meant a chance of happinessfor all his loved ones. 

It was seven o'clock when Pan and his men reached the western elevationof the valley, something over a dozen miles from their fence and trap. From this vantage point Pan could sweep the whole country withfar-sighted eyes. What he saw made them glisten. 

Wild horses everywhere, like dots of brush on a bare green rollingprairie!

"Boys, we'll ride down the valley now and pick a place where we splitto begin the drive, " said Pan. 

"Hosses way down there look to me like they was movin' this way, "observed Blinky, who had eyes like a hawk. 

Pan had keen eyes, too, but he did not believe his could compare withBlinky's. That worthy had the finest of all instruments of humanvision--clear light-gray eyes, like that of an eagle. Dark eyes werenot as far-seeing on range and desert as the gray or blue. And it wasa fact that Pan had to ride down the valley a mile or more before hecould detect a movement of wild horses toward him. 

"Wal, reckon mebbe thet don't mean nothin', " said Blinky. "An' thenagin mebbe it does. Hosses run around a lot of their own accord. An'agin they get scared of somethin'. If we run into some bunches haidin'this way we'll turn them back an' thet's work for us. "

Pan called a halt there, and after sweeping his gaze over all thevalley ahead, he said: "We split here. .. . Mac, you and Brown ridestraight toward the slope. Mac, take a stand a half mile or so out. Brown, you go clear to the slope and build a fire so we can see yoursmoke. Give us five minutes, say, to see your smoke, and then startthe drive. Reckon we'll hold our line all right till they get tocharging us. And when we close in down there by the gate it'll beevery man for himself. I'll bet it'll be a stampede. "

Pan sent Lying Juan to take up a stand a mile or more outside of MacNew. Gus and Blinky were instructed to place equal distances betweenthemselves and Juan. Pan's father left with them and rode to a ridgetop in plain sight a mile away. Pan remained where he had reined hishorse. 

"Sort of work for them, even to Dad, " soliloquized Pan, half amused athis own tremendous boyish eagerness. All his life he had dreamed ofsome such great experience with horses. 

He could see about half of the valley floor which was to be driven. The other half lay over the rolling ridges and obscured by the haze andyellow clouds of dust rising here and there. Those dust clouds had notappeared until the last quarter of an hour or so, and they caused Pancuriosity that almost amounted to anxiety. Surely bands of horses wererunning. 

Suddenly a shot rang out over to Pan's left. His father was waving hatand gun. Far over against the green background of slope curled up athin column of blue smoke. Brown's signal! In a few moments the drivewould be on. 

Pan got off to tighten cinches. 

"Well, Sorrel, old boy, you look fit for the drive, " said Pan, pattingthe glossy neck. "But I'll bet you'll not be so slick and fat tonight. "

When he got astride again he saw his father and the next driver headingtheir horses south. So he started Sorrel and the drive had begun. Hewaved his sombrero at his father. And he waved it in the direction ofhome, with a message to Lucy. 

Pan rode at a trot. It was not easy to hold in Sorrel. He wanted togo. He scented the wild horses. He knew there was something afoot, and he had been given a long rest. Soon Pan was riding down into oneof the shallow depressions, the hollows that gave the valley itsresemblance to a ridged sea. Thus he lost sight of the foreground. When, half a mile below, he reached a wave crest of ground he saw bandsof wild horses, enough to make a broken line half across the valley, traveling toward him. They had their heads north, and were movingprettily, probably a couple of miles distant. Beyond them other bandsscattered and indistinct, but all in motion, convinced Pan thatsomething had startled the horses, or they had sensed the drive. 

"No difference now, " shouted Pan aloud. "We're going to run your legsoff, and catch a lot of you. "

The long black line of horses did not keep intact. It broke intosections, and then into bands, most of which sheered to the left. Butone herd of about twenty kept on toward Pan. He halted Sorrel. Theycame within a hundred yards before they stopped as if frozen. Howplump and shiny they were! The lean wild heads and ears all stood up. 

A mouse-colored mare was leading this bunch. She whistled shrilly, andthen a big roan stallion trotted out from behind. He jumped as if hehad been struck, and taking the lead swung to Pan's left, manifestly toget by him. But they had to run up hill while Pan had only to keep toa level. He turned them before they got halfway to a point even withthe next driver. Away they swept, running wild, a beautiful sight, theroan and mare leading, with the others massed behind, manes and tailsflying, dust rolling from under their clattering hoofs. 

Then Pan turned ahead again, working back toward his place in thedriving line. He had a better view here. He saw his father and Gusand Blinky ride toward each other to head off a scattered string ofhorses. The leaders were too swift for the drivers and got through theline, but most of the several herds were headed and turned. Gun shotshelped to send them scurrying down the valley. 

Two small bands of horses appeared coming west along the wash. Panloped Sorrel across to intercept them. They were ragged and motley, altogether a score or more of the broomtails that had earned thatunflattering epithet. They had no leader and showed it in theirindecision. They were as wild as jack rabbits, and upon sighting Panthey wheeled in their tracks and fled like the wind, down the valley. Pan saw them turn a larger darker-colored herd. This feature was whathe had mainly relied upon. Wonderful luck of this kind might attendthe drive: even a broken line running the right way would sweep thevalley from wash to slope. But that was too much for even Pan's mostextravagant hopes. 

Again he lost sight of the horses and his comrades, as he rode down along swell of the valley sea. The slope ahead was long and gradual, and it mounted fairly high. Pan was keen to see the field from thatvantage point. Still he did not hurry. Any moment a band of horsesmight appear, and he wanted always to have plenty of spare room to rideacross to left or right. Once they got the lead of him or even withhim it would be almost impossible to turn them. 

Not, however, until he had surmounted the next ridge did he catch sightof any more wild horses. Then he faced several miles of almost levelvalley, with the only perceptible slope toward the left. For the firsttime he saw all the drivers. They were holding a fairly straight line. As Pan had anticipated, the drive was slowly leading away from thewash, diagonally toward the great basin that constituted the bottom ofthe valley floor. Bands of horses were running south, bobbing underthe dust clouds. There were none within a mile of Pan. The other men, beyond the position of Pan's father, would soon be called upon to dosome riding. 

As Pan kept on at a fast trot, he watched in all directions, expectingto see horses come up out of a hollow or over a ridge; also he took aquick glance every now and then in the direction of his comrades. Theywere working ahead of him, more and more to the left. Therefore a widegap soon separated Pan from his father. 

This occasioned him uneasiness because they would soon be down on alevel, where palls of dust threatened to close over the whole valley, and it would be impossible to see any considerable distance. If thewild horses then took a notion to wheel and run back up the valley thedrive would yield great results. 

Suddenly, way over close to the wash Pan espied a string of horsesemerging from the thin haze of dust. He galloped down and across tointercept them. As he drew closer he was surprised to see they were ina dead run. These horses were unusually wild, as if they had beenfrightened. They appeared bent on running Pan down, and he had toresort to firing his gun to turn them. It was a heavy forty-fivecaliber, the report of which was loud. Then after they had veered, hehad to race back across a good deal more than his territory to keepthem from going round him. 

At last they headed back into the dusty-curtained, black-streaked zonewhich constituted the bowl of the valley. This little race had warmedSorrel. He had entered into the spirit of the drive. Pan found thatthe horse sighted wild horses more quickly than he, and wanted to chasethem all. 

Pan rode a mile to the left, somewhat up hill and also forward. Hecaught sight of his father, and two other riders, rather far ahead, riding, shooting either behind or in front of a waving pall of dust. The ground down there was dry, and though covered with grass and sage, it had equally as much bare surface, from which the plunging hoofskicked up the yellow smoke. 

Pan had a front of two miles and more to guard, and the distance wasincreasing every moment. The drive swept down to the left, massingtoward the apex where the fence and slope met. This was still milesaway. Pan could see landmarks he recognized, high up on the horizon. Many bands of horses were now in motion. They streaked to and froacross lighter places in the dust cloud. Pan wanted to stay out in theclear, so that he could see distinctly, but he was already behind hiscomrades. No horses were running up the wash. So he worked overtoward where he had last observed his father, and gave up any attemptat further orderly driving. 

It was plain that his comrades had soon broken the line. Probably insuch a case, where so many horses were running, it was not possible tokeep a uniform front. But Pan thought they could have done better. Hesaw strings of horses passing him to the left. They had brokenthrough. This was to be expected. No doubt the main solid mass wasnow on a stampede toward the south. 

Pan let stragglers and small bunches go by him. There were, however, no large bands of horses running back, at least that he could see. Herode to and fro, at a fast clip, across this dust-clouded basin, heading what horses happened to come near him. The melee of dust andanimals thickened. He now heard the clip-clop of hoofs, here, there, everywhere, with the mass of sound to the fore. Presently he appearedsurrounded by circles of dust and stringing horses. It was like a hugecorral full of frightened animals running wild through dust so thickthat they could not be seen a hundred feet distant. Pan turned horsesback, but he could not tell how quickly they would wheel again andelude him. 

Once he thought he saw a rider on a white mount, yet could not be sure. Then he decided he was mistaken, for none of Blinky's horses were white. 

This melee down in the dusty basin was bad. Driving was hampered bythe obscurity. Pan could only hope the main line of wild horses wassweeping on as it had started. 

After a long patrol in the dust and heat of that valley flat, Panemerged, it seemed, into clearer atmosphere. He was working up. Horses were everywhere, and it was ridiculous to try to drive all thosehe encountered. At length there were none running back. All wereheading across, to and fro, or down the valley. And when Pan reachedthe long ascent of that bowl he saw a magnificent spectacle. 

A long black mass of horses was sweeping onward toward the gateway tothe corrals, and to the fence. Dust columns, like smoke, curled upfrom behind them and swung low on the breeze. Pan saw riders behindthem, and to the left. He had perhaps been the only one to go throughthat valley bowl. The many bands of horses, now converged into onegreat herd, had no doubt crossed it. They were fully four milesdistant. Pan saw his opportunity to cut across and down to the righttoward where the fence met the wash. If the horses swerved, as surelysome or all of them would do, he could head them off. To that end hegave Sorrel free rein and had a splendid run of several miles to thepoint halfway between the fence and the wash. 

Here from a high point of ground he observed the moving pace of dustand saw the black wheel-shaped mass of horses sweep down the valleylike a storm. The spectacle was worth all the toil and time he hadgiven, even if not one beast was captured. But Pan, with swellingheart and beaming eye, felt assured of greater success than he hadhoped for. There were five thousand horses in that band, more by tentimes than he had ever before seen driven. They could not all getthrough that narrow gateway to the corrals. Pan wondered how his fewriders could have done so well. Luck! The topography of the valley!The wild horses took the lanes of least resistance; and the level ordownhill ground favored a broad direct line toward the fence trap Panand his men had contrived. 

"Looks like Dad and all the rest of them have swung round on thisside, " soliloquized Pan, straining his eyes. 

That was good, but Pan could not understand how they had everaccomplished it. Perhaps they had been keen enough to see that thewild horses would now have to go through the gateway or turn southalong the fence. 

Pan watched eagerly. Whatever was going to happen must come very soon, as swiftly as those fast wild horses could run another mile. He sawthem sweep down on the bluff and round it, and then begin to spread, todisintegrate. Again dust clouds settled over one place. It was in theapex. What a vortex of furious horses must be there! Pan lost sightof them for some moments. Then out of the yellow curtain streakedblack strings, traveling down the fence toward Pan, across the valley, back up the way they had come. Pan let out a stentorian yell ofvictory. He knew the action indicated that the horses had poured in amass into the apex between bluff and fence. 

"_Whoopee!_" yelled Pan, to relieve his surcharged emotions. "It's asure bet we've got a bunch!"

Then he spurred Sorrel to meet the horses fleeing down along the fence. They came in bunches, in lines, stringing for a mile or more along thebarrier of cedars. 

Pan met them with yells and shouts. Frantic now, the animals wheeledback. But few of them ran up out of the winding shallow ground alongwhich the fence had been cunningly built. He drove them back, up overthe slow ascent, toward the great dusty swarm of horses that ranhelter-skelter under the dust haze. 

Suddenly Pan espied a black stallion racing toward him. He rememberedthe horse. And the desire to capture this individual took strong holdupon him. The advantage lay all with Pan. So he held back to stopthis stallion. 

At the most favorable moment Pan spurred Sorrel to intercept thestallion. But the black, maddened with terror and instinct to rage, would not swerve out of Pan's way. On he came, swift as the wind, leanblack head out, mane flying, a wild creature at once beautiful andfearful. Pan had to jerk Sorrel out of his way. Then Pan, having theblack between himself and the fence, turned Sorrel loose. The racebegan--with Pan still holding the advantage. It did not, however, lastlong that way. The black ran away from Pan. He wanted to shoot butthought it best not to use his last shells. What a stride! He was abig horse, too, ragged, rangy, with action and power that delightedPan. Knowing he could not catch the black Pan cut across toward thewash. Then the stallion, seeing the yawning gulf ahead, turned towardthe fence, and quickening that marvelous stride he made a magnificentleap right at the top of the obstruction. He cleared the heavy woodand crashed through the branches to freedom. 

"You black son-of-a-gun!" yelled Pan in sheer admiration, and haltingthe sorrel he watched the stallion disappear. 

Dust begrimed and wet, Pan once more headed toward the goal. His horsewas tired and so was he. Far as he could view in a fan-shaped spread, wild horses were running back up the valley. Pan estimated he sawthousands, but there were no heavy black masses, no sweeping stormlikeclouds of horses, such as had borne down on that corner of the valley. 

He was weary, but he could have sung for very joy. Happily histhoughts reverted to Lucy and the future. He would pick out a coupleof beautiful ponies for her, and break them gently. He would find someswift sturdy horses for himself. Then, as many thousands of times, hethought of his first horse Curly. None could ever take his place. Buthow he would have loved to own the black stallion!

"I'm just as glad, though, he got away, " mused Pan. 

The afternoon was half gone and hazy, owing to the drifting clouds ofdust that had risen from the valley. As Pan neared the end of thefence, which was still a goodly distance from the gateway, he wassurprised that he did not see any horses or men. The wide brush gateshad been closed. Beyond them and over the bluff he saw clouds of dust, like smoke, rising lazily, as if just stirred. 

"Horses in the corrals!" he exclaimed. "I'll bet they're full. .. . Gee! now comes the problem. But we could hold a thousand head therefor a week--maybe ten days. There's water and grass. Reckon, though, I'll sell tomorrow. "

He would have hurried on but for the fact that Sorrel had begun tolimp. Pan remembered going over a steep soft bank where the horse hadstumbled. Dismounting, Pan walked the rest of the way to the bluff, beginning to think it strange he did not see or hear any of hiscomrades. No doubt they were back revelling in the corrals full ofwild horses. 

"It's been a great day. If only I could get word to Lucy!"

Pan opened the small gate, and led Sorrel into the lane. Still he didnot see anything of the men. He did hear, however, a snorting, trampling of many horses, over in the direction of the farther corral. 

At the end of the bluff, where the line of slope curved in deep, Pansuddenly saw a number of saddled horses, without riders. 

With a violent start he halted. 

There were men, strange men, standing in groups, lounging on the rocks, sitting down, all as if waiting. 

A little to the left of these Pan's lightning swift gaze took inanother group. His men! Not lounging, not conversing, but aloof fromeach other, lax and abject, or strung motionless!

Bewildered, shocked, Pan swept his eyes back upon the strangers. 

"Hardman! Purcell!" he gasped, starting back as if struck. 

Then his mind leaped to conclusions. He did not need to see Blinkyapproach him with hard sullen face. Hardman and outfit had timed thewild-horse drive. No doubt they had participated in it, and meant toprofit by that, or worse, they meant to claim the drive, and bysuperior numbers force that issue. 

Such a terrible fury possessed Pan that he burned and shook all over. He dropped his bridle and made a dragging step to meet Blinky. But sogreat was his emotion that he had no physical control. He waited. After that bursting of his heart, he slowly changed. This then was thestrange untoward thing that had haunted him. All the time fate hadheld this horrible crisis in abeyance, waiting to crush at the lastmoment his marvelous good fortune. That had been the doubt, themisgiving, the inscrutable something which had opposed all Pan'soptimism, his hope, his love. An icy sickening misery convulsed himfor a moment. But that could not exist in the white heat of his wrath. 

Blinky did not stride up to Pan. He hated this necessity. His willwas forcing his steps, and they were slow. 

"Blink--Blink, " whispered Pan, hoarsely. "It's come! That damnedhunch we feared, but wouldn't believe!"

"By Gawd, I--I couldn't hev told you, " replied Blinky, just ashoarsely. "An' it couldn't be worse. "

"Blink--then we made a good haul?"

"Cowboy, nobody ever heerd of such a haul. We could moonshine wildhosses fer a hundred years an' never ketch as many. "

"How--many?" queried Pan, sharply, his voice breaking clear. 

"Reckon we don't agree on figgerin' thet. I say fifteen hundred haid. Your dad, who's aboot crazy, reckons two thousand. An' the otherfellars come in between. "

"Fifteen hundred horses!" ejaculated Pan intensely. "Heavens, but it'sgreat!"

"Pan, I wish to Gawd we hadn't ketched any, " declared Blinky, in hardfierce voice. 

That brought Pan back to earth. 

"What's their game?" he asked swiftly, indicating the watchingwhispering group. 

"I had only a few words with Hardman. Your dad went out of his haid. Reckon he'd have done fer Hardman with his bare hands, if Purcellhadn't knocked him down with the butt of a gun. "

Again there was a violent leap of Pan's blood. It jerked his wholeframe. 

"Blink, did that big brute?--" asked Pan hoarsely, suddenly breakingoff. 

"He shore did. Your dad's got a nasty knock over the eye. .. . No, Ihadn't any chance to talk to Hardman. But his game's as plain as thatbig nose of his. "

"Well, what is it?" snapped Pan. 

"Shore he'll grab our hosses, or most of them, " returned Blinky. 

"You mean straight horse stealing?"

"Shore, thet's what it'll be. But the hell of it is, Hardman's outfithelped make the drive. "

"No!"

"You bet they did. Thet's what galls me. Either they was layin' ferthe day or just happened to ride up on us, an' figgered it out. Mebbethet's where Mac New comes in. "

"Blink, I don't believe he's double-crossed us, " declared Pan stoutly. 

"Wal, he's an outlaw. "

"No difference. I just don't believe it. But we'll find out. .. . Soyou think Hardman will claim most of our horses or take them all?"

"I shore do. "

"Blink, if he gets _one_ of our horses it'll be over my dead body. Youfellows sure showed yellow clear through--to let them ride in herewithout a fight. "

"Hellsfire!" cried Blinky, as if stung. "What you think? . .. Therewasn't a one of us thet had a single lead left fer our guns. Thet'swhere the rub comes in. We played their game. Wasted a lot of shellson them damn broomies! So how could we fight?"

"Ah-huh!" groaned Pan, appalled at the fatality of the whole incident. 

"Pan, I reckon you'd better swaller the dose, bitter as it is, an'bluff Hardman into leavin' us a share of the hosses. "

"Say, man, are you drunk or loco?" flashed Pan scornfully. 

With that he whirled on his heel and strode toward where Hardman, Purcell, and another man stood somewhat apart from the lounging riders. 

Slowly Blinky followed in Pan's footsteps, and then Mac New left thegroup in the shade of the wall, and shuffled out into the sunlight. His action was that of a forceful man, dangerous to encounter. 

In the dozen rods or more that Pan traversed to get to Hardman he hadreverted to the old wild spirit of the Cimarron. That cold dark windwhich had at times swept his soul returned with his realization of theonly recourse here. When he had walked the streets of Marco waitingfor Matthews to prove his mettle or show his cowardice, he had gambledon the latter. He had an uncanny certainty that he had only to bluffthe sheriff. Here was a different proposition. It would takebloodshed to halt this gang. 

As Pan approached, Purcell swung around square with his hands low, asignificant posture. Hardman evinced signs of extreme nervous tension. The third man walked apart from them. All the others suddenlyabandoned their lounging attitude. 

"Hardman, what's your game?" queried Pan bluntly, as he halted. 

The words, the pause manifestly relieved Hardman, for he swallowed hardand braced himself. 

"Game?" he parried gruffly. "There's no game about drivin' a millionwild hosses through the dust. It was work. "

"Don't try to twist words with me, " replied Pan fiercely. "What's yourgame? Do you mean a straight out and out horse-thief deal? Or a shareand share divvy on the strength of your riding in where you weren'tasked?"

"Young man, I'm warnin' you not to call me a hoss thief, " shoutedHardman, growing red under his beard. 

"I'll call you one, damn quick, if you don't tell your game. "

"We made the drive, Smith, " returned Hardman. "You'd never made itwithout us. An' that gives us the biggest share. Say two-thirds, I'llbuy your third at ten dollars a head. "

"Hardman, that's a rotten deal, " burst out Pan. "Haven't you anysense? If you could make it, you'd be outlawed in this country. Menwon't stand for such things. You may be strong in Marco but I tell youeven there you can't go too far. We planned this trap. We worked likedogs. And we made the drive. You might account for more horsestrapped, but no difference. You had no business here. We can _prove_it. "

"Wal, if I've got the hosses I don't care what _you_ say, " retortedHardman, finding bravado as the interview progressed. 

It was no use to try to appeal to any sense of fairness in this man. Pan saw that and his passionate eloquence died in his throat. Coldlyhe eyed Hardman and then the greasy dust-caked face of Purcell. Hecould catch only the steely speculation in Purcell's evil eyes. Heread there that, if the man had possessed the nerve, he would havedrawn on him at the first. 

Meanwhile Blinky had come up beside Pan and a moment later Mac New. Neither had anything to say but their actions, especially Mac New's, were not to be misunderstood. The situation became intense. Hardmansuddenly showed the strain. 

Pan's demeanor, however, might have been deceiving, except to thekeenest of men, long versed in such encounters. 

"Jard Hardman, you're a low-down horse thief, " said Pan deliberately. 

The taunt, thrown in Hardman's face, added to the tension of themoment. He had lost the ruddy color under his beard. His eyes stoodout. He recognized at last something beyond his power to change orstop. 

"Smith, reckon you've cause for temper, " he said, huskily. "I'll takehalf the hosses--an' buy your half. "

"No! Not one damn broomtail do you get, " returned Pan in a voice thatcut. "Look out, Hardman! I can prove you hatched up this deal to robme. "

"How, I'd like to know?" blustered the rancher, relaxing again. 

"Mac New can prove it. "

"Who's he?"

"Hurd here. His real name is Mac New. You hired him to get in withme--to keep you posted on my movements. "

Again Hardman showed his kind of fiber under extreme provocation:

"Yes, I hired him--an' he's double-crossed you as well as me. "

"Did he? Well, now _you_ prove that, " flashed Pan who had read thefurious falseness of the man. 

"Purcell here, " replied Hardman hoarsely, "he's been camped below. Hurd met him at night--kept him posted on your work. Then, when allwas ready for the drive Purcell sent for me. Ask him yourself. "

Pan did not answer to the suggestion. "Mac, what do you say to that?"he queried, sharply, but he never took his eyes off Purcell. 

"_Hardman, you're a liar!_" roared Mac New, sonorously. If ever Panheard menace in a voice, it was then. 

"_Take it back!_" went on the outlaw, now with a hiss. "Square me withPanhandle Smith!"

"Mac, he doesn't have to square you. Anyone could see he's a liar, "called Pan derisively. 

"Hurd, I--I'll have you shot--I'll shoot you myself, " burst outHardman, wrestling his arm toward his hip. 

A thundering report close beside Pan almost deafened him. Hardmanuttered a loud gasp. His eyes rolled--fixed in awful stony stare. Then like a flung sack he fell heavily. 

"Thar, Jard Hardman, " declared the outlaw, "I had one bullet left. "And he threw his empty gun with violence at the prostrate body. 

Purcell's long taut body jerked into swift action. His gun spurted redas it leaped out. Pan, quick as he drew and shot, was too late to saveMac New. Both men fell without a cry, their heads almost meeting. 

"Blink, grab their guns!" yelled Pan piercingly, and leaping over thebodies he confronted the stricken group of men with leveled weapon. 

"Hands up! _Quick_, damn you!" he ordered, fiercely. 

His swiftness, his tremendous passion, following instantly upontragedy, had shocked Hardman's men. Up went their hands. 

Then Blinky ran in with a gun in each hand, and his wild aspect mostpowerfully supplemented Pan's furious energy and menace. 

"Fork them hosses, you ---- ---- ----!" yelled Blinky. Death for moreof them quivered in the balance. As one man, Hardman's riders rushedwith thudding boots and tinkling spurs to mount their horses. Severaldid not wait for further orders, but plunged away down the lane towardthe outlet. 

"Rustle, hoss thieves, " added Blinky, with something of the old drawlin his voice, that yet seemed the more deadly for it. With quickstrides he had gotten behind most of the riders. "Get out of heah!"

With shuffling, creaking of leather, and suddenly cracking hoofs theorder was obeyed. The riders soon disappeared around the corner of thebluff. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The two horses left, belonging to Hardman and Purcell, neighed loudlyat being left behind, and pulled on their halters. 

Pan's quick eye caught sight of a rifle in a sheath on one of thesaddles. He ran to get it, but had to halt and approach the horsewarily. But he secured the rifle--a Winchester--fully loaded. 

Blinky, observing Pan's act, repeated it with the other horse. 

"Pard, I ain't figgerin' they'll fight, even from cover, " said Blinky. "By gosh, this hoss must have been Purcell's. Shore. Stirrups toolong for Hardman. An' the saddle bag is full of shells. "

"Slip along the fence and see where they went, " replied Pan. 

"Aw, I can lick the whole outfit now, " declared Blinky, recklessly. 

"You keep out of sight, " ordered Pan. 

Whereupon Blinky, growling something, crashed a way through the cedarfence and disappeared. 

Pan hurriedly sheathed his gun, and with the rifle in hand, ran back tothe overhanging bluff, where he began to climb through the brush. Fierce action was necessary to him then. He did not spare himself. Forever he half-expected some kind of attack from the men who had beendriven away. Soon he had reached a point where he could work round tothe side of the bluff. When he looked out upon the valley he espiedHardman's outfit two miles down the slope, beyond the cedar fence. They had set fire to the cedars. A column of yellow smoke rolled wayacross the valley. 

"Ah-huh! They're rustling--all right, " panted Pan. "Wonder what--kindof a story--they'll tell. Looks to me--like they'd better keep clearof Marco. "

Then a reaction set in upon Pan. He crawled into the shade of somebrush and stretched out, letting his tight muscles relax. The terriblesomething released its hold on mind and heart. He was sick. He foughtwith himself until the spasm passed. 

When he got back to his men, Blinky had just returned. 

"Did you see them shakin' up the dust?" queried Blinky. 

"Yes, they're gone. Reckon we've no more to fear from them. "

"Huh! We never had nothin'. Shore was a yellow outfit. They set fireto our fence, the ---- ---- ----!"

It took some effort for Pan to approach his father. The feeling deepwithin him was inexplicable. But, then, he had never before beencompelled to face his father after a fight. Pan's relation to himseemed of long ago. 

"How are you, Dad?" he asked with constraint. 

"Little shaky--I guess--son, " came the husky reply. But Smith got upand removed his hand from the bloody wound on his forehead. It wasmore of a bruise than a cut, but the flesh was broken and swollen. 

"Nasty bump, Dad. I'll bet you'll have a headache. Go to camp andbathe it in cold water. Then get Juan to bandage it. "

"All right, " replied his father. He forced himself to look up at Pan. His eyes were warming out of deep strange shadows of pain, of horror. "Son, I--I was kind of dazed when--when you--the fight come off. .. . Iheard the shots, but I didn't see. .. Was it you who--who killed JardHardman?"

"No, Dad, " replied Pan, placing a steady hand on his father's shoulder. Indeed he seemed more than physically shaken. "But I meant to. "

"Then how--who?--" choked Smith. 

"Mac New shot him, " replied Pan, hurriedly. "Hardman accused him ofdouble-crossing me. Mac called him. I think Hardman tried to draw. But Mac killed him. .. . I got Purcell too late to save Mac. "

"Awful!" replied Smith, hoarsely. 

"Pan, I seen Purcell's eyes, " spoke up Blinky. "Shore he meant to dropMac an' you in two shots. But he wasn't quite previous enough. "

"I was--too slow myself, " rejoined Pan haltingly. "Mac New was anoutlaw, but he was white compared to Hardman. "

"Wal, it's all over. Let's kinda get set back in our saddles, " drawledBlinky. "What'll we do with them stiffs?"

"By George, that's a stumper, " replied Pan, sitting down in the shade. 

"Huh! Reckon you figger we ought to pack them back to Marco an' givethem church services, " said Blinky, in disgust. "Jest a couple oftwo-bit rustlers!"

"Somebody will come out here after their bodies, surely. Dick Hardmanwould want to--"

"Mebbe someone will, but not thet hombre, " declared Blinky. "But I'mgamblin' Hardman's outfit won't break their necks tellin' aboot this. Now you jest see. "

"Well, let's wait, then, " replied Pan. "Wrap them up in tarps and laythem here in the shade. "

The trapped wild horses, cracking their hoofs and whistling in the hugecorrals, did not at the moment attract Pan or wean him away from thedeep unsettled condition of mind. As he passed the corral on the wayto the camp the horses moved with a trampling roar. The sound helpedhim toward gaining a hold on his normal self. 

The hour now was near sunset and the heat of day had passed. A coollight breeze made soft low sound in the trees. 

Pan found his father sitting with bandaged head beside the campfire, apparently recovering somewhat. 

"Did you take a peep at our hosses?" he asked. 

"No, not yet, " replied Pan. "I reckon I will, though, before it getsdark. "

"We've got a big job ahead. "

"That depends, Dad. If we can sell them here we haven't any job tospeak of. How about it, Blink?"

"How aboot what?" inquired the cowboy, who had just come up. 

"Dad's worrying over what he thinks will be a big job. Handling thehorses we've caught. "

"Shore thet all depends. If we sell heah, fine an' dandy. The otherfellar will have the hell. Reckon, though, we want to cut out a stringof the best hosses fer ourselves. Thet's work, when you've got a bigdrove millin' round. Shore is lucky we built thet mile-round corral. There's water an' feed enough to last them broomies a week, or longeron a pinch. "

While they were talking Gus and Charley Brown returned to camp. Theywere leading the horses that had been ridden by Hardman and Purcell. 

"Turn them loose, boys, " directed Pan, to whom they looked forinstructions. 

Presently Gus handed Pan a heavy leather wallet and a huge roll ofgreenbacks. 

"Found the wallet on Purcell an' the roll on Hardman, " said Gus. 

"Wal, they shore was well heeled, " drawled Blinky. 

"But what'll I do with all this?" queried Pan blankly. 

"Pan, as you seem to forget, Hardman owed your dad money, reckon youmight rustle an' hunt up Dick Hardman an' give it to him. Say, Dick'llown the Yellow Mine now. Gee! He could spend all this in his ownjoint. "

"Dad, you never told me how much Hardman did you out of, " Pan. 

"Ten thousand in cash, an' Lord only knows how many cattle. "

"So much! I'd imagined. .. . Say, Dad, will you take this money?"

"Yes, if it's honest an' regular for me to do so, " replied Smithstoutly. 

"Regular? There's no law in Marco. We've got to make our own laws. Let it be a matter of conscience. Boys, this man Hardman ruined myfather. I heard that from a reliable source at Littleton before I evergot here. Don't you think it honest for Dad to take this money?"

"Shore, it's more than thet, " replied Blinky. "I'd call it justice. If you turned thet money over to law in Marco it'd go to Matthews. An'you can bet your socks he'd keep it. "

The consensus of opinion did not differ materially from Blinky's. 

"Dad, it's a long trail that has no turning, " said Pan, tossing bothwallet and roll to his father. "Here's to your new ranch in Arizona!"

Lying Juan soon called them to supper. It was not the usual cheerymeal, though Juan told an unusually atrocious lie, and Blinky madeseveral attempts to be funny. The sudden terrible catastrophe of theday did not quickly release its somber grip. 

After supper, however, there seemed to be a lessening of restraint, with the conversation turning to the corrals full of wild horses. 

"Wal, let's go an' look 'em over, " proposed Blinky. 

Pan was glad to see his father able and eager to accompany them, but hedid not go himself. 

"Come on, you wild-hoss trapper, " called Blinky. "We want to bet onhow rich we are. "

"I'll come, presently, " replied Pan. 

He did not join them, however, but made his way along the north slopeto a high point where he could look down into the second corral. Itwas indeed a sight to fill his heart--that wide mile-round grassypasture so colorful with its droves of wild horses. Blackpredominated, but there were countless whites, reds, bays, grays, pintos. He saw a blue roan that shone among the duller horses, too faraway to enable Pan to judge of his other points. Pan gazed with sternrestraint, trying to estimate the numbers without wild guess ofenthusiasm. 

"More than fifteen hundred, " he soliloquized at last, breathing hard. "Too good to be true! Yet there they are. .. . If only that . .. Well, no matter. I didn't force it. _I_ wasn't to blame. .. Maybe we cankeep it from mother and Lucy. "

Pan did not start back to camp until after nightfall, when he heardBlinky call. 

"Say, you make a fellar nervous, " declared Blinky, in relief, as Panapproached the bright campfire. "Wal, did you take a peep at 'em?"

"Yes. It's sure a roundup, " replied Pan. "I'd say between fifteen andsixteen hundred head. "

"Aw, you're just as locoed as any of us. "

Whereupon they fell into a great argument about the number of horses;and though Pan had little part in it he gradually conceived an ideathat he had underestimated them. 

"Say, fellows, " he said, breaking up the discussion, "if Hardman's gangraises a row in Marco we'll know tomorrow. "

"Shore, but I tell you they won't, " returned Blinky doggedly. 

"We'll look for trouble anyway. And meanwhile we'll go right on withour job. That'll be roping and hobbling the horses we want to keep. We'll turn them loose here, or build another corral. Hey, Blink?--Howabout a string for your ranch in Arizona?"

"_Whoopee!_" yelled the cowboy. Pan had heard Blinky yell that waybefore. He clapped his hands over his ears, for no more mighty pealinghuman sound than Blinky's famous yell ever rose to the skies. When Pantook his hands away from his cars he caught the clapping echoes, ringing, prolonged, back from bluff to slope, winding away, to mellow, to soften, to die in beautiful concatenation far up in the wild breaksof the hills. 

Pan lay awake in his blankets. He had retired early leaving hiscompanions continuing their arguments, their conjectures andspeculations. The campfire flared up and died down, according to theaddition of new fuel. The light flickered on the trees in fantasticand weird shadows. At length there was only a dull red glow left, andquiet reigned. The men had sought their beds. 

Then the solemn wilderness shut down on Pan, with the loneliness andsolitude and silence that he loved. But this night there were burdens. He could not sleep. He could not keep his eyes shut. What questionshone down in the pitiless stars? Something strange and inscrutableweighed upon him. Was it a regurgitation of his early moods, whenfirst he became victim to the wildness of the ranges? Was it new-bornconscience, stirred by his return to his mother, by his love for Lucy?He seemed to be haunted. Reason told him that it was well he had cometo fight for his father. He could not be blamed for the machinationsof evil men. He suffered no regret, no remorse. Yet there wassomething that he could not understand. It was a physical sensationthat gave him a chill creeping of his flesh. It was also a spiritualshrinking, a withdrawing from what he knew not. He had to succumb to apower of the unseen. 

Other times he had felt the encroachment of this insidious thing, butvague and raw. Whisky had been a cure. Temptation was now strong uponhim to seek his companions and dull his faculties with strong drink. But he could not yield to that. Not now, with Lucy's face like awraith floating in the starlight! He was conscious of a larger growth. He had accepted responsibilities that long ago he should have taken up. He now dreamed of love, home, children. Yet beautiful as was thatdream it could not be realized in these days without the deadly spiritand violence to which he had just answered. That was the bitteranomaly. 

Next morning, in the sweet cedar-tanged air and the rosy-gold of thesunrise, Pan was himself again, keen for the day. 

"Pard, you get first pick of the wild hosses, " announced Blinky. 

"No, we'll share even, " declared Pan. 

"Say, boy, reckon we'd not had any hosses this mawnin' but fer you, "rejoined his comrade. "An' some of us might not hev been so lively an'full of joy. Look at your dad! Shore you'd never think thet yestiddyhe had his haid broke an' his heart, too. Now just would you?"

"Well, Blink, now you call my attention to it, Dad does look quitechipper, " observed Pan calmly. But he felt a deep gladness for thisfact he so lightly mentioned. 

Blinky bent to his ear: "Pard, it was the money thet perked him up, "whispered the cowboy. 

Pan reflected that his father's loss and continued poverty hadcertainly weakened him, dragged him down. 

"Listen, Blink, " said Pan earnestly. "I don't want to be a kill-joy. Things do look wonderful for us. But I haven't dared yet to let myselfgo. You're a happy-go-lucky devil and Dad is past the age of fight. It won't stay before his mind. But I feel fight. And I can't be gaybecause something tells me the fight isn't over. "

"Wal, pard, " drawled Blinky, with his rare grin, "the way I feel abootfight is thet I ain't worryin' none if you're around. .. . All the same, old pard, I'll take your hunch, an' you can bet your life I'll bewatchin' like a hawk till we shake the dirty dust of Marco. "

"Good, Blinky, that will help me. We'll both keep our eyes open todayso we can't be surprised by anybody. "

Pan's father approached briskly, his face shining. He was indeed adifferent man. "Boys, are we goin' to loaf round camp all day?"

"No, Dad, we're going to rope the best of the broomtails. I'll get achance to see you sling a lasso. "

"Say, I'd tackle it at that, " laughed his father. 

"Blinky, trapping these wild horses and handling them are two differentthings, " remarked Pan thoughtfully. "Reckon I'll have to pass the buckto you. "

"Wal, pard, I'm shore there. We'll chase all the hosses into the bigcorral. Then we'll pick out one at a time, an' if we cain't rope himwithout scarin' the bunch too bad we'll chase him into the smallcorral. "

"Ah-uh! All right. But I'll miss my guess if we don't have a hotdusty old time, " replied Pan. 

"Fellars, " called Blinky, "come ararin' now, an' don't any of youfergit your guns. "

"How about hobbles?" inquired Pan. 

"I've got a lot of soft rope, an' some burlap strips. "

Gus and Brown brought in the saddle horses, and soon the men wereriding down to the corrals. This was a most satisfactory incident forall concerned, and there were none not keen and excited to see the wildhorses, to pick and choose, and begin the day's work. 

Upon their entrance to the first and smaller corral a string of lean, ragged, wild-eyed mustangs trooped with a clattering roar back into thelarger corral. 

"Wal, boys, the show begins, " drawled Blinky. "Mr. Smith, you an'Charley take your stands by the gate, to open it when you see us comin'with a broomie we want to rope. An' Pan, you an' me an' Gus will ridearound easy like, not pushin' the herd at all. They'll scatter an'mill around till they're tired. Then they'll bunch. When we see onewe want we'll cut him out, an' shore rope him if we get close enough. But I reckon it'd be better to drive the one we want into the smallcorral, rope an' hobble him, an' turn him out into the pasture. "

The larger corral was not by any means round or level, and it was sobig that the mass of horses in a far corner did not appear to cover ahundredth part of the whole space. There were horses all over thecorral, along the fences especially, but the main bunch were as faraway as they could get from their captors, and all faced forward, wildand expectant. 

It was a magnificent sight. Whether or not there was much fine stockamong them or even any, the fact remained that hundreds of wild horsestogether in one drove, captive and knowing it, were collected in thisgreat trap. The intense vitality of them, the vivid coloring, thebeautiful action of many and the statuesque immobility of the majority, were thrilling and all satisfying to the hearts of the captors. 

Pan and Blinky and Gus spread out to trot their mounts across theintervening space. The wild horses moved away along the fence, andhalted to face about again. They let the riders approach to a hundredyards, then, with a trampling roar, they burst into action. Wildpointed noses, ears, heads, manes and flying hoofs and tails seemed tospread from a dark compact mass. 

They ran to the other side of the corral, where the horsemen leisurelyfollowed them. Again they broke into mighty concerted action and intothunder of hoofs. They performed this maneuver several times beforethe riders succeeded in scattering them all over the pasture. Thenwith wild horses running, trotting, walking, standing everywhere it waseasy to distinguish one from another. 

"Regular lot of broomtails, " yelled Blinky to Pan. "Ain't seen any yetI'd give two bits fer. Reckon, as always, the good hosses got away. "

But Pan inclined to the opinion that among so many there were surely afew fine animals. And so it proved. Pan's first choice was a blueroan, a rare combination of color, build and speed. The horse was amare and had a good head. She had a brand on her left flank. Pan rodearound after her, here, there, all over the field, but without help hecould not turn her where he wished. 

He had to watch her closely to keep from losing sight of her among somany moving horses, and he expected any moment that the boys would cometo his assistance. But they did not. Whereupon Pan faced about, justin time to see a wonderful-looking animal shoot through the open gateinto the smaller corral. Blinky and Gus rode after him. 

The gate was closed, and then began a chase round the corral. The wildhorse was at a disadvantage. He could not break through the fence orleap over it, and presently two lassoes caught him at once, one roundhis neck, the other his feet. As he went down, Pan heard the piercingshriek. The two cowboys were out of their saddles in a twinkling, andwhile Gus held the horse down Blinky hobbled his front feet. Then theylet him get up. Charley Brown ran to open another gate, that led outinto the unfenced pasture. This animal was a big chestnut, with tawnymane. He leaped prodigiously, though fettered by the hobbles. Then heplunged and fell and rolled over. He got up to try again. He wassavage, grotesque, awkward. The boys drove him through the gate. 

"_Whoopee!_" pealed out Blinky's yell. 

"Reckon those boys know their business, " soliloquized Pan, and then heyelled for them to come and help him. 

It took some time for Pan to find his roan, but when he espied her, andpointed her out to Blinky and Gus the chase began. It was a leisurelyperformance. Pan did not run Sorrel once. They headed the roan off, hedged her in a triangle, cut her out from the other horses, and towardthe open gate. When the mare saw this avenue of escape she boltedthrough it. 

Pan, being the farthest from the gate, was the last to follow. Andwhen he rode in, to head off the furiously running roan, Gus made abeautiful throw with his lasso, a whirling wide loop that seemed toshoot perpendicularly across in front of her. She ran into it, and theviolent check brought her down. Blinky was almost waiting to kneel onher head. And Gus, leaping off, hobbled her front feet. Snortingwildly she got up and tried to leap. But she only fell. The boysroped her again and dragged her out into the pasture. 

"Aw, I don't know, " sang Blinky, happily. "Two horses in two minutes!We ain't so bad, fer cowboys out of a job. "

Warming to the work they went back among the circling animals. But itwas an hour before they cut out the next choice, a dark bay horse, inconspicuous among so many, but one that proved on close inspection tobe the best yet. Gus had the credit of first espying this one. 

After that the picked horses came faster, until by noon they had tenhobbled in the open pasture. Two of these were Pan's. He had beenhard to please. 

"Wal, we'll rest the hosses an' go get some chuck, " suggested Blinky. 

Early afternoon found them again hard at their task. The wild horseshad not only grown tired from trooping around the corral, but alsosomewhat used to the riders. That made choosing and driving andcutting out considerably easier. Pan helped the boys with theirchoices, but he had bad luck with his own. He had espied severalbeautiful horses only to lose them in the throng of moving beasts. Sometimes, among a large bunch of galloping horses, the dust madevision difficult. But at length, more by good luck than management, Pan found one of those he wanted badly. It was a black stallion, medium size, with white face, and splendid proportions. Then he had tochase him, and do some hard riding to keep track of him. No doubtabout his speed! Without heading him off or tricking him, not one ofthe riders could stay near him. 

"Aw, I'm sick eatin' his dust, " shouted Blinky, savagely. 

Whereupon both Pan and Gus, inspired by Blinky, cut loose in deadearnest. They drove him, they relayed him, they cornered him, and thenas he bolted to get between Gus and Pan, Blinky wheeled his horse andby a mighty effort headed him with a lasso. That time both wildstallion and lassoer bit the dust. Gus was on the spot in a twinkling, and as the animal heaved to his feet, it was only to fall into anotherloop. Then the relentless cowboys stretched him out and hobbled him. 

"Heah, now, you fire-eyed--air-pawin' hoss--go an' get gentle, " pantedBlinky. 

By the time the hunters had caught three others, which achievement wasmore a matter of patience than violence, the herd had become prettywell wearied and tamed. They crowded into a mass and moved in a mass. It took some clever riding at considerable risk to spread them. Finehorses were few and far between. 

"Let's call it off, " shouted Pan. "I'm satisfied if you are. "

"Aw, just one more, pard, " implored Blinky. "I've had my eye on alittle bay mare with four white feet. She's got a V bar brand, andshe's not so wild. "

They had to break up the bunch a dozen times before they could locatethe horse Blinky desired. And when Pan espied the bay he did not blameBlinky, and from that moment, as the chase went on, he grew more andmore covetous. What a horse for Lucy! Pan had been satisfied with theblue roan for her but after he saw the little bay he changed his mind. 

The little animal was cunning. She relied more on crowding in amongthe other horses than in running free, and therefore she was hard toget out into the open. Blinky's mount went lame; Gus's grew so wearythat he could not keep up; but Pan's Sorrel showed wonderful powers ofendurance. In fact he got better all the time. It began to dawn uponPan what a treasure he had in Sorrel. 

"Aw, let the darn little smart filly go, " exclaimed Blinky, giving upin disgust. "I never wanted her nohow. "

"Cowboy, she's been my horse ever since you showed her to me, " repliedPan. "But you didn't know it. "

"Wal, you hoss-stealin' son-of-a-gun!" ejaculated Blinky with pleasure. "If you want her, we shore will run her legs off. "

In the end they got Little Bay--as Pan had already named her--into theroping corral, along with two other horses that ran in with her. Andthere Pan chased her into a corner and threw a noose round her neck. She reared and snorted, but did not bolt. 

"Hey, pard, " called Blinky, who was close behind. "Shore as you'reborn she knows what a rope is. See! She ain't fightin' it. I'll betyou my shirt she's not been loose long. Thet bar V brand now. Newoutfit on me. Get off an' haul up to her. "

Pan did not need a second suggestion. He was enraptured with thebeauty of the little bay. She was glossy in spite of long hair anddust and sweat. Her nostrils were distended, her eyes wild, but shedid not impress Pan as being ready to kill him. He took time. Hetalked to her. With infinite patience he closed up on her, inch byinch. And at last he got a hand on her neck. She flinched, sheappeared about to plunge, but Pan's gentle hand, his soothing voicekept her still. The brand on her flank was old. Pan had no way toguess how long she had been free, but he concluded not a great while, because she was not wild. He loosened the noose of his lasso on herneck. It required more patience and dexterity to hobble her. 

"Pard, this little bay is fer your gurl, huh?" queried Blinky, leaningin his saddle. 

"You guessed right, Blink, " answered Pan. "Little Bay! that's hername. "

"Wal, now you got thet off your chest s'pose you climb on your hoss an'look heah, " added Blinky. 

The tone of his voice, the way he pointed over the cedar fence to theslope, caused Pan to leap into his saddle. In a moment his sweepinggaze caught horsemen and pack animals zigzagging down the trail. 

"If it's Hardman's outfit, by Gawd, they're comin' back with nerve, "said Blinky. "But I never figgered they'd come. "

Pan cursed under his breath. How maddening to have his happy thoughtsso rudely broken! In a flash he was hard and stern. 

"Ride, Blink, " he replied briefly. 

They called the others and hurriedly got out of the corral into theopen. 

"Reckon camp's the best place to meet thet outfit, if they're goin' tomeet us, " declared Blinky. 

Pan's father exploded in amazed fury. 

"Cool off, Dad, " advised Pan. "No good to cuss. We're in forsomething. And whatever it is, let's be ready. "

They made their way back to camp with eyes ever on the zigzag trailwhere in openings among the cedars the horsemen could occasionally beseen. 

"Looks like a long string, " muttered Pan. 

"Shore, but they're stretched out, " added Gus. "'Pears to me if theymeant bad for us they wouldn't come pilin' right down thet way. "

"Depends on how many in the outfit and what they know, " said Pan. "Hardman's men sure knew we weren't well heeled for a shooting scrape. "

"Pard, are you goin' to let them ride right into camp?" queried Blinky, hard faced and keen. 

"I guess not, " replied Pan bluntly. "Rifle shot is near enough. Theymight pretend to be friendly till they got to us. But we'll sure foolthem. "

Not much more was spoken until the approaching horsemen emerged fromthe cedars at the foot of the slope. They rode straight toward thecamp. 

"How many?" asked Pan. "I count six riders. "

"Seven fer me, an' aboot as many pack horses. .. . Wal, I'll be damned!Thet's all of them. "

"Mebbe there's a bunch up on the slope, " suggested Charley Brown. 

After a long interval fraught with anxiety and suspense, during whichthe horsemen approached steadily, growing more distinct, Blinkysuddenly burst out: "Fellars, shore as you're born it's Wiggate. "

"The horse dealer from St. Louis!" ejaculated Pan in tremendous relief. "Blink, I believe you're right. I never saw one of those men before, or the horses either. "

"It's Wiggate, son, " corroborated Pan's father. "I met him once. He'sa broad heavy man with a thin gray chin beard. That's him. "

"Aw, hell!" exclaimed Blinky, regretfully. "There won't be any fightafter all. "

The approaching horsemen halted within earshot. 

"Hi, there, camp, " called the leader, whose appearance tallied withSmith's description. 

"Hello, " replied Pan, striding out. 

"Who's boss here?"

"Reckon I am. "

"My name's Wiggate, " replied the other loudly. 

"All right, Mr. Wiggate, " returned Pan just as loud voiced. "What'syour business?"

"Friendly. Give my word. I want to talk horses. "

"Come on up, then. "

Whereupon the group of horsemen advanced, and presently rode in underthe trees into camp. The foremost was a large man, rather florid, withdeep-set eyes and scant gray beard. His skin, sunburned red instead ofbrown, did not suggest the westerner. 

"Are you the younger Smith?" he asked, rather nervously eyeing Pan. 

"Yes, sir. "

"And you're in charge here?"

Pan nodded shortly. He sensed antagonism at least, in this man's blufffront, but it might not have been animosity. 

"Word come to me this morning that you'd trapped a large number ofhorses, " went on Wiggate. "I see that's a fact. It's a wonderfulsight. Of course you expect to make a deal for them?"

"Yes. No trading. No percentage. I want cash. They're a shadebetter stock than you've been buying around Marco. Better grass here, and they've not been chased lean. "

"How many?"

"I don't know. We disagree as to numbers. But I say close to fifteenhundred head. "

"Good Lord!" boomed the big man. "It's a haul indeed. .. . I'll giveyou our regular price, twelve fifty, delivered in Marco. "

"No, thanks, " replied Pan. 

"Thirteen. "

Pan shook his head. 

"Well, young man, that's the best offer made so far. What do you want?"

"I'll sell for ten dollars a head, cash, and count and deliver themhere tomorrow. "

"Sold!" snapped out Wiggate. "I can pay you tomorrow, but it'll takeanother day to get my men out here. "

"Thank you--Mr. Wiggate, " replied Pan, suddenly rather halting inspeech. "That'll suit us. "

"May we pitch camp here?"

"Sure. Get down and come in. Plenty of water and wood. Turn yourhorses loose. They can't get out. "

Pan had to get away then for a while from his father and the exuberantBlinky. How could they forget the dead men over there still unburied?Pan had read in Wiggate's look and speech and in the faces of his men, that they had been told of the killing, and surely to the discredit ofPan and his followers. Pan vowed he would put Wiggate in possession ofthe facts. He gave himself some tasks, all the while trying to realizethe truth. Fortune had smiled upon him and Blinky. Rich in onedrive--at one fell swoop! It was unbelievable. The retrieving of hisfather's losses, the new ranches in sunny Arizona, comfort andhappiness for his mother, for Bobby and Alice--and for Lucy all thatany reasonable woman could desire--these beautiful and sweet dreams hadbecome possibilities. All the loneliness and privation of his hardlife on the ranges had been made up for in a few short days. Pan'seyes dimmed, and for a moment he was not quite sure of himself. 

Later he mingled again with the men round the campfire. Some of therestraint had disappeared, at least in regard to Wiggate and his mentoward everybody except Pan. That nettled him and at an opportunemoment he confronted the horse buyer. 

"How'd you learn about this drive of ours?" he asked, briefly. 

"Hardman's men rode in to Marco this morning, " replied Wiggate, coldly. 

"Ah-uh! And they told a cock-and-bull story about what happened outhere!" flashed Pan hotly. 

"It placed you in a bad light, young man. "

"I reckon. Well, if you or any of your outfit or anybody else calls mea horse thief he wants to go for his gun. Do you understand that?"

"It's pretty plain English, " replied Wiggate, manifestly concerned. 

"And here's some more. Jard Hardman _was_ a horse thief, " went on Panin rising passion. "He was a low-down yellow horse thief. He hiredmen to steal for him. And by God, he wasn't half as white as theoutlaw who killed him!"

"Outlaw? I declare--we--I--Do you mean you're an--" flounderedWiggate. "We understood you killed Hardman. "

"Hell, no!" shouted Blinky, aflame with fury, bursting into theargument. "We was all there. We saw--"

"Blink, you keep out of this till I ask you to talk, " ordered Pan. 

"Smith, I'd like to hear what he has to say. "

"Wiggate, you listen to me first, " rejoined Pan, with no lessening hisintensity. "There are three dead men across the field, not yet buried. Hardman, his man Purcell, and the outlaw Mac New. He called himselfHurd. He was one of Hardman's jailers there in Marco. But I knew Hurdas Mac New, back in Montana. I saved him from being hanged. "

Pan moistened lips too dry and too hot for his swift utterance, andthen he told in stern brevity the true details of that triple killing. After concluding, with white face and sharp gesture, he indicated tohis men that they were to corroborate his statement. 

"Mr. Wiggate, it's God's truth, " spoke up Pan's father, earnestly. "Itwas just retribution. Hardman robbed me years ago. "

"Wal, Mr. Wiggate, my say is thet it'll be damned onhealthy fer anybodywho doesn't believe my pard, " added Blinky, in slow dark menace. 

Gus stepped forward without any show of the excitement thatcharacterized the others. 

"If you need evidence other than our word, it's easy to find, " he said. "Mac New's gun was not the same caliber as Pan's. An' as the bulletthet killed Hardman is still in his body it can be found. "

"Gentlemen, that isn't necessary, " replied Wiggate, hastily, with ashudder. "Not for me. But my men can substantiate it. That mightsound well in Marco. For I believe that your young leader--PanhandleSmith, they call him--is not so black as he has been painted. "

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The following morning, while Pan was away for a few hours deer hunting, Wiggate's men, accompanied by Blinky, attended to the gruesome detailof burying the dead men. 

Upon Pan's return he learned of this and experienced relief thatWiggate had taken the responsibility. Wiggate had addressed himseveral times, civilly enough, but there was a restraint that Pansensed often in his encounter with men. They were usually men who didnot understand westerners like himself. 

Wiggate had all his men, except the one he had sent back to Marco, withseveral of Pan's engaged in counting the captured wild horses. It wasa difficult task and could hardly be accurate in short time. 

"Anxious to get back to Marco?" queried Wiggate, not unkindly as he sawPan's restlessness. 

"Yes, I am, now the job's done, " replied Pan heartily. 

"Well, I wouldn't be in any hurry, if I were you, " said the horsedealer, bluntly. 

"What do you mean?" queried Pan. 

"Young Hardman is to be reckoned with. "

"Bah!" burst out Pan in a scorn that was rude, though he meant it forHardman. "That pop-eyed skunk! What do I care for him?"

"Excuse me, I would not presume to advise you, " returned Wiggatestiffly. 

"Aw, I beg your pardon, Mr. Wiggate, " apologized Pan. "I know you meanwell. And I sure thank you. "

Wiggate did not answer, but he took something from his vest pocket, Itwas a lead bullet, slightly flattened. 

"Let me see your gun?" he asked. 

Pan handed the weapon to him, butt first. Wiggate took it gingerly, and tried to fit the bullet in a chamber of the cylinder, and then inthe barrel. It was too large to go in. 

"This is the bullet that killed Hardman, " said Wiggate gravely. "Itwas never fired from your gun. I shall take pains to make this evidentin Marco. "

"I don't know that it matters but I'm sure much obliged, " returned Panwith warmth. 

"Well, I'll do it anyhow. I've been fooled by Hardman and, if you wantto know it, cheated too. That's why I broke with him. "

"Hope you didn't have any other association with him--besides horsebuying. "

"No, but I'm lucky I didn't. "

"Hardman had his finger in a lot of things in Marco. I wonder who'lltake them up. Say, for instance some of the gold claims he jumped. "

"Well! I knew Hardman had mining interests, but I thought they werelegitimate. It's such a queer mixed-up business, this locating, working, and selling claims. I want none of it. "

"Hardman's men, either at his instigation or Dick's, deliberately rantwo of my men out of their claims. They'll tell you so. "

"I'm astonished. I certainly am astonished, " replied Wiggate, and helooked it. 

"Marco is the hardest town I ever rode into, " declared Pan. "And Ithought some of the prairie towns were bad. But I see now that a fewwild cowboys, going on a spree, and shooting up a saloon, or shootingeach other occasionally, was tame beside Marco. "

"You're right. Marco is a hard place, and getting worse. There'sconsiderable gold. The new Eldorado idea, you know. It draws lawlessmen and women from places that are beginning to wake up. And they preyupon honest men. "

"Did the Yellow Mine belong to Hardman?" asked Pan curiously. 

"Him and Matthews. Young Hardman claims it. He's already clashed withMatthews, so I heard. "

"He'll do more than clash with Matthews, if he isn't careful. He'll_cash_!" declared Pan grimly. "Matthews is a four-flush sheriff. Hewouldn't face a dangerous man. But he'd make short work of DickHardman. "

"If I'm not inquisitive in asking--would you mind telling me, do youmean to _meet_ Matthews and young Hardman?" inquired Wiggate, hesitatingly. 

"I'll avoid them if possible, " rejoined Pan. "Dad and I will get outof Marco pretty pronto. We're going to Arizona and homestead. "

"That's sensible. You'll have money enough to start ranching. I wishyou luck. I shall make this my last horse deal out here. It'sprofitable, but Marco is a little too--too raw for my blood. "

According to figures that the counters agreed upon there were fourteenhundred and eighty-six wild horses in the trap. 

Wiggate paid cash upon the spot. He had some bills of largedenomination, but most of the money was in rather small bills. Panmade haste to get rid of all except his share. He doubled the wages ofthose who had been hired. Then he divided what was left with Blinky. 

"My--Gawd!" gasped that worthy, gazing with distended eyes at theenormous roll of bills. "My Gawd! . .. How much heah?"

"Count it, you wild-eyed cowpuncher, " replied Pan happily. "It's yourhalf. "

"But, pard, it's too much, " appealed Blinky. "Shore I'm robbin' you. This was your drive. "

"Yes, and it was your outfit, " returned Pan. "You furnished the packs, horses, location, and I furnished the execution. Looks like a squaredeal, share and share alike. "

"All right, pard, " replied Blinky, swallowing hard. "If you reckonthet way. .. . But will you keep this heah roll fer me?"

"Keep it yourself, you Indian. "

"But, pard, I'll get drunk an' go on a tear. An' you know how bad I amwhen I get lickered up. "

"Blink, you're not going to drink, unless in that one deal I hintedabout, " said Pan meaningly. "Hope we can avoid it. "

"Aw, we're turnin' over a new leaf, huh?" queried the cowboy instrangest voice. 

"You are, Blink, " replied Pan with a frank, serious smile. "I've beena respectable sober cowboy for some time. You've been terrible bad. '

"Who said so?" retorted Blinky, aggressively. 

"I heard it at the Yellow Mine. "

That name, and the implication conveyed by Pan made Blinky drop hishead. But his somber shame quickly fled. 

"Wal, pard, I'll stay sober as long as you. Shake on it. "

Pan made his plans to leave next morning as early as the wild horsesthey had hobbled could be gotten into shape to travel. Wiggateexpected the riders he had sent for to arrive before noon the next day;and it was his opinion that he would have all the horses he hadpurchased out of there in a week. Pan and Blinky did not share thisopinion. 

Wiggate and his men were invited to try one of Lying Juan's suppers, which was so good that Juan had the offer of a new job. Upon beingurged by Pan to accept it, he did so. 

"I can recommend Lying Juan as the best cook and most truthful man Iever knew, " remarked Pan. 

Blinky rolled on the ground. 

"Haw! Haw! Wait till Lyin' Juan tells you one of his whoppers. "

"_Lying Juan_! I see. I was wondering about such a queer name for amost honest man, " replied Wiggate. "I know he's a capital cook. And Iguess I can risk the rest. "

After supper Pan and Blinky took great pains cutting and fixing theropes which they intended to use on the wild horses that were to betaken along with them. 

"Wal, now thet's done, an' I reckon I'd write to my sweetheart, only Idon't know nothin' to write aboot, " said Blinky. 

"Go to bed, " ordered Pan. "We've got to be up and at those horses bydaylight. You ought to know that tieing the feet of wild horses issure enough work. "

Next morning it was not yet daylight when Blinky drawled: "Wal, cowboys, we've rolled out, wrangled the hosses, swallered some chuck, an' now fer the hell!"

In the gray of dawn when the kindling east had begun to dwarf the gloryof the morning star, the cowboys drove all the hobbled horses into thesmaller corral. There they roped off a corner and hung a whitetarpaulin over the rope. This was an improvised second corral wherethey would put the horses, one by one, as they tied up their feet. 

Blinky and Gus made one unit to work together, and Pan, his father, andBrown constituted another. 

Blinky, as usual, got in the first throw, and the hungry loop of hislasso circled the front feet of the plunging roan. He stood on hishead, fell on his side, and struggled vainly to get up. But he was inthe iron hands of masters of horses. Every time the roan half rose, Blinky would jerk him down. Presently Gus flopped down on his headand, while the horse gave up for a moment, Blinky slipped the noose offone foot and tied the other foot up with it. They let the roan rise. On three feet he gave a wonderful exhibition of bucking. When heslowed down they drove him behind the rope corral. 

"The night's gone, the day's come, the work's begun, " sang out Blinky. "Eat dust, you buckaroos. "

Pan chose the little bay to tie up first. But after he had roped herand got up to her there did not appear to be any urgent reason for suchstringent measure. Little Bay was spirited, frightened, but not wild. 

"I'll risk it, " said Pan, and led her to the rope corral. 

The sun rose hot and, likewise, the dust. The cowboys did not slackentheir pace! It took two hours of exceedingly strenuous labor to tie upall the wild horses. Each horse had presented a new fight. Then camethe quick job of packing their outfits, which Juan had gotten together. Everyone of the men had been kicked, pulled, knocked down, and socoated with sweat and dust that they now resembled Negroes. Theirhands were fairly cooked from the hot ropes' sizzling when the horsesplunged. And at nine o'clock they were ready for the momentoustwenty-five mile drive to Marco. 

"All ready for the parade!" yelled Blinky. "Go ahaid, you fellars. Open the gate, an' leave it fer me to close. "

Pan and the others were to ride in front, while Blinky drove thehorses. The need for men was in front, not behind. As they starteddown the wing of the trap to open the gate the roped wild horses begana terrific plunging, kicking, bucking and falling down. Some of thembit the rope on their feet. But little by little Blinky drove them outinto the open. Pan and his father dropped back to each side, keepingthe horses in a close bunch. That left Gus and Brown in front to rundown those that tried to escape. The white-footed stallion was thefirst to make a break. He ran almost as well on three feet as on four, and it took hard riding to catch him, turn him and get him back in thebunch. The next was Pan's roan. He gave a great deal of trouble. 

"Haw! Haw! Thet's Pan's hoss. Kill him! I guess mebbe Pan cain'tpick out the runners. "

When the wild horses got out of the narrow gateway between bluff andslope they tried to scatter. The riders had their hands full. Riding, shooting, yelling, swinging their ropes, they moved the horses forwardand kept them together. They were learning to run on three feet andtried hard to escape. Just when the melee grew worst they reached thecedar fence, only half of which had been burned by the resentfulHardman outfit, and this obstruction was of signal help to the riders. Once more in a compact bunch, the wild horses grew less difficult tohandle. 

As Pan rode up the ridge leading out of the valley he turned to have alast look at this memorable place. To his amaze and delight he sawalmost as many wild horses as before the drive. 

"Gee, I'm greedy, " he muttered. "Lucky as I've been, I want to stayand make another drive. "

"Wal, pard, I'm readin' your mind, " drawled Blinky. "But don't feelbad. If we tried thet drive again we might ketch a few. But youcain't fool them broomies twice the same way. "

Another difficulty soon presented itself. Several of the wild horsescould not learn to travel well on three feet. 

"Reckon they've had long enough trial. We gotta cut them loose, " saidBlinky. 

"We'll lose them sure, " complained Pan. 

"Mebbe so. But we cain't do nothin' else. It's mighty strange, thedifference in hosses. Same as people, come to think aboot it. Somehosses learn quick, an' now an' then there's one like thet stallion. He can run like hell. Most wild hosses fight an' worry themselves, an'quick as they learn to get along on three feet they make the best ofit. Some have to be cut loose. Fact is, pard, we've got a mighty finebunch, an' we're comin' along better'n I expected. .. . Loose your lassonow, cowboy, for you'll shore need it. "

The need of that scarcely had to be dwelt on, for the instant Gus andBlinky cut loose a poor traveler, he made a wild dash for liberty. Buthe ran right into a hateful lasso. This one let out a piercing whistle. 

All the time the riders were moving the bunch forward down into flatcountry between gray brushy hills. Evidently this wide pass openedinto a larger valley. The travel was mostly over level ground, whichfacilitated the progress. 

It took two men to lasso a horse, hold his ears, cut the rope round hislegs, release the noose on his neck and let him go. They could notafford to lose any precious second over this job. Time was too badlyneeded. 

The parade, as Blinky had called it, made only a few miles an hour, andsometimes this advance was not wholly in the right direction. Nevertheless the hours seemed to fly. There was no rest for horses ormen. The afternoon had begun to wane before the horses had all made uptheir minds that fighting and plunging was of no avail. Weary, exhausted, suffering from the bound up legs, they at last surrendered. Whereupon Blinky and Gus cut their feet loose. Sometimes the wholebunch would have to be held up for one horse that, upon release, couldnot use his freed foot. Pan had an idea the horses did not want thattried on them twice. They showed intelligence. This method was notbreeding the horses for saddle and bridle, which was of course the mainconsideration to come, but it certainly tamed them. It was a littletoo cruel for Pan to favor. 

"Wal, we'll shore be lucky if we make Snyder's pasture tonight, "remarked Blinky. "No hope of makin' Marco. "

Pan had never expected to do so, and therefore was not disappointed. His heart seemed so full and buoyant that he would not have minded moredelay. Indeed he rode in the clouds. 

The pass proved to be longer than it looked, but at last the drove ofhorses was headed into the wide flat country toward the west. And soontrail grew into road. The sunset dusk mantled the sweeping prairielikevalley, and soon night fell, cool and windy. The wild horses slowed toa walk and had to be driven to do that. Pan felt that he shared theirthirst. 

When at about ten o'clock, Blinky espied through the gloom landmarksthat indicated the pasture he was seeking, it was none too soon for Pan. 

"Water an' grass heah, but no firewood handy, " announced Blinky, asthey turned the horses into the pasture. "Fellar named Snyder used toranch heah. It didn't pay. This little pasture is lucky fer us. Iwas heah not long ago. Good fence, an' we can round up the bunch easyin the mawnin'. "

The weary riders unpacked the outfit, took a long deep drink of thecold water, and unrolling their tarps went supperless to bed. Pan'seyes closed as if with glue and his thoughts wavered, faded. 

Pan's father was the first to get up, but already the sun was beforehim. Pan saw him limp around, and leave the pasture to return with anarmful of fire wood. 

"Pile out!" he yelled. "It's Siccane, Arizona, or bust!"

One by one the boys rolled from their beds. Pan was the only one whohad to pull on his boots. Somebody found soap and towel, which theyfought over. The towel had not been clean before this onslaught. Afterward it was unrecognizable. Gus cooked breakfast which, judgedfrom the attack upon it, was creditable to him. 

"Wal, our hosses are heah, " said Blinky, cheerfully. "Reckon I wasafeared they'd jump the fence. We may have a little hell on the start. "

"Blink, you don't aim to tie up their feet again, do you?" inquired Pananxiously. 

"Nope. They had all they wanted of thet. Mebbe they'll try to bustaway first off. But our hosses are fresh, too. I'm gamblin' in threehours we'll have them in your dad's corral. "

"Then we don't have to drive through Marco?"

"Shore not. We're on the main road thet passes your dad's. Reckonit's aboot eight miles or so. "

"Say, Blink, do we take this road on our way south to Siccane?"

"Yep. It's the only road. You come in on it by stage. It runs northand south. Not very good road this way out of Marco. "

"Then, by golly, we can leave our new horses here, " exclaimed Pangladly. 

"Wal, I'll be goldarned. Where's my haid? Shore we can. It's afirst-rate pasture, plenty of water, an' fair grass. But I'll have togo in town, thet's damn shore, you know. An' we cain't leave thesehosses heah unguarded. "

"Gus, will you and Brown stay here? We'll leave grub and outfit. "

Brown had to refuse, and explained that he was keen to get back to hismining claim, which he believed now he would be able to work. 

"I'll stay, " said Gus. "It's a good idee. Workin' with these hosses aday or two will get 'em fit to travel. An' I reckon I'd like a jobwith you, far as Siccane anyway. "

"You've got it, and after we reach Siccane, too, if you want one, "replied Pan quickly. 

The deal was settled to the satisfaction of all concerned. 

"How aboot our pack hosses?" asked Blinky. "Course Charley will haveto take his, but will we need ours? I mean will we have to pack themfrom heah?"

"No, all that stuff can go in the wagons, " replied Pan. "We'll needthree wagons, anyhow. Maybe more. Dad, how much of an outfit have youat home?"

"You saw it, son, " said Smith, with a laugh. "Mine would go in asaddlebag. But I reckon the women folks will have a wagon load. "

"Rustle. I'm ararin' to go, " yelled Pan, striding out into the pastureto catch his horse. In the exuberance of the moment Pan would haveliked to try conclusions with the white-footed stallion or the blueroan, but he could not spare the time. He led Sorrel back to camp andsaddled him. Blinky and Pan's father were also saddling their mounts. 

"I'll take it easy, " explained Charley Brown, who had made no move. "My claim is over here in the hills not very far. "

"Brown, I'm sorry you won't go south with us, " said Pan warmly, as heshook hands with the miner. "You've sure been a help. And I'm gladwe've--well, had something to do with removing the claim jumpers. "

As Pan rode out that morning on the sorrel, to face north on the roadto Marco, he found it hard to contain himself. This hour was the veryfirst in which he could let himself think of the glorious fulfillmentof his dream. 

His father was too lame to ride fast and Pan, much as he longed torush, did not want to leave him behind. But it was utterly impossiblefor Pan to enter into the animated conversation carried on by hisfather and Blinky. They were talking wagons, teams, harness, grain, homesteads and what not. Pan rode alone, a little ahead of them. 

Almost, he loved this wild and rugged land. But that was the ecstasyof the moment. This iron country was too cut up by mountains, withvalleys too bare and waterless, to suit Pan. Not to include the roughand violent element of men attracted by gold!

Nevertheless on this bright autumn morning there was a glamour overvalley and ridge, black slope and snowy peak, and the dim distantranges. The sky was as blue as the inside of a columbine, a rich andbeautiful light of gold gilded the wall of rock that boldly cropped outof the mountainside; and the wide sweeping expanse of sage lost itselfin a deep purple horizon. Ravens and magpies crossed Pan's gladeyesight. Jack rabbits bounded down the aisles between the sagebushes. Far out on the plain he descried antelope, moving away withtheir telltale white rumps. The air was sweet, intoxicating, full ofcedar fragrance and the cool breath from off the heights. 

While he saw and felt all this his mind scintillated with thoughts ofLucy Blake. He would see her presently, have the joy of surprising herinto betrayal of love. He fancied her wide eyes of changing dark blue, and the swift flame of scarlet that so readily stained her neck andcheek. 

He would tell her about the great good fortune that had befallen him;and about the beautiful mare, Little Bay, he had captured for her; andnow they could talk and plan endlessly, all the way down to Siccane. 

When would Lucy marry him? That was a staggering question. His heartswelled to bursting. Had he the courage to ask her at once? He triedto see the matter from Lucy's point of view, but without much success. 

Dreaming thus, Pan rode along without being aware of the time ordistance. 

"Hey, pard, " called Blinky, in loud banter. "Are you goin' to ridepast where your gurl lives?"

With a violent start Pan wheeled his horse. He saw that he had indeedridden beyond the entrance to a farm, which upon second look herecognized. It was, however, an angle with which he had not beenfamiliar. The corrals and barn and house were hidden in trees. 

"I'm loco, all right, " he replied with a little laugh. 

Through gate and lane they galloped, on to the corral, and round thatto the barn. This was only a short distance to the house. Pan leapedfrom his horse and ran. 

With an uplift of his heart that was almost pain, he rushed round thecorner of the house to the vine-covered porch. 

The door was shut. Stealthily he tiptoed across the porch to knock. No answer! He tried the door. Locked! A quiver ran through him. 

"Strange, " he muttered, "not home this early. "

He peered through the window, to see on floor and table ample evidenceof recent packing. That gave check to a creeping blankness which wasbenumbing Pan. He went on to look into his mother's bedroom. The bedlooked as if it had been used during the night and had not been madeup. Perhaps his mother and Lucy had gone into Marco to purchasenecessities. 

"But--didn't I tell Lucy not to go?" he queried, in bewilderment. 

Resolutely he cast out doubtful speculations. There could hardly beanything wrong. Hurriedly he returned to the barn. 

"Wal, I'll tell you, " Blinky was holding forth blandly, "this heahgrubbin' around without a home an' a woman ain't no good. I'm shorethrough. I'm agoin'--"

"Nobody home, " interrupted Pan. 

"Well, that's nothin' to make you pale round the gills, " returned hisfather. "They're gone to town. Mother had a lot of buyin' to do. "

"But I particularly told Lucy to stay here. "

"S'pose you did, " interposed Blinky. "Thet's nothin'. You don'texpect this heah gurl to mind you. "

"No time for joking, Blink, " said Pan curtly. "It just doesn't setright on my chest. I've got to find Lucy pronto. But where to go!"

With a single step he reached his stirrup and swung into his saddle. 

"Pan, Lucy an' the wife will be in one of the stores. Don't worryabout them. Why, they did all our buyin'. "

"I tell you I don't like it, " snapped Pan. "It's not what I think, butwhat I feel. All the same, wherever they are it doesn't change ourplans. I'll sure find them, and tell them we're packing to leavepronto. .. .. Now, Dad, buy three wagons and teams, grain, grub, andwhatever else we need for two weeks or more on the road. Soon as Ifind Lucy and Mother I'll meet you and help you with the buying. "

"I ought to talk it over with Ma before I buy grub, " replied hisfather, perplexedly scratching his head. "I wish they was home. "

"Come on, Blink, " called Pan, as he rode out. 

Blinky joined him out in the road. 

"Pard, I don't get your hunch, but I can see you're oneasy. "

"I'm just loco, that's all, " returned Pan, forcing himself. "It's--such--such a disappointment not to see--her. .. . Made menervous. Makes me think how anything might happen. I never trustedJim Blake. And Lucy is only a kid in years. "

"Ahuh, " said Blinky, quietly. "Reckon I savvy. You wouldn't feel thetway fer nothin'. "

"Blink, I'm damn glad you're with me, " rejoined Pan feelingly, turningto face his comrade. "No use to bluff with you. I wish to heaven Icould say otherwise, but I'm afraid there's something wrong. "

"Shore. Wal, we'll find out pronto, " replied Blinky, with his coolhard spirit, "an' if there is, we'll damn soon make it right. "

They rode rapidly until they reached the outskirts of town, when Blinkycalled Pan to a halt. 

"Reckon you'd better not ride through Main Street, " he saidsignificantly. 

They tied their horses behind a clump of trees between two desertedshacks. Pan removed his ragged chaps, more however to be freer ofmovement than because they were disreputable. 

"Now, Blink, we'll know pronto if the town is friendly to us, " he saidseriously. 

"Huh! I ain't carin' a whoop, but I'll gamble we could own the town. This fake minin', ranchin', hoss-dealin' Hardman was a hunk of badcheese. Pard, are you goin' to deny you killed him? Fer shore they'vebeen told thet. "

"No. Wiggate can do the telling. All I want is to find Lucy and sendher back home, then buy our outfit and rustle. "

"Sounds pretty. But I begin to feel hunchy myself. Let's have adrink, Pan. "

"We're not drinking, cowboy, " retorted Pan. 

"Ain't we? Excuse me. Shore I figgered a good stiff drink would helpsome. I tell you I've begun to get hunches. "

"What kind?"

"No kind at all. Just feel that all's not goin' the way we hope. Butit's your fault. It's the look you got. I'd hate to see you hurtdeep, pard. "

They passed the wagon shop where Pan's father had been employed, then avacant lot on one side of the street and framed tents on the other. Presently they could see down the whole of Main Street. It presentedthe usual morning atmosphere and color, though Pan fancied there wasmore activity than usual. That might have been owing to the fact thatboth the incoming and outgoing stages were visible far up at the end ofthe street. 

Pan strained his eyes at people near and far, seeking first some signof Lucy, and secondly someone he could interrogate. Soon he wouldreach the first store. But before he got there he saw his motheremerge, drag Bobby, who evidently wanted to stay. Then Alice followed. Both she and her mother were carrying bundles. Pan's heart made readyfor a second and greater leap--in anticipation of Lucy's appearance. But she did not come. 

"Hello, heah's your folks, pard, figgerin' from looks, " said Blinky. "What a cute kid! . .. Look there!"

Pan, striding ahead of Blinky saw his mother turn white and reel as ifabout to faint. Pan got to her in time. 

"Mother! Why, Mother, " he cried, in mingled gladness and distress. "It's me. I'm all right. What'd you think? . .. Hello, Bobby, olddirty face. .. Alice, don't stare at me. I'm here in the flesh. "

His mother clung to him with hands like steel. Her face and eyes wereboth terrible and wonderful to see. "Pan! Pan! You're alive? Oh, thank God! They told us you'd been shot. "

"Me? Well, I guess not. I'm better than ever, and full of good news, "went on Pan hurriedly. "Brace up, Mother. People are looking. There. .. Dad is out home. We've got a lot to do. Where's Lucy?"

"Oh, God--my son, my son!" cried Mrs. Smith, her eyes rolling. 

"_Hush_!" burst out Pan, with a shock as if a blade had pierced hisheart. He shook her not gently. "_Where_ is Lucy?"

His mother seemed impelled by his spirit, and she wheeled to point upthe street. 

"Lucy! There--in that stage--leaving Marco!"

"For God's--sake!" gasped Pan. "What's this? Lucy! Where's shegoing?"

"Ask her yourself, " she cried passionately. 

Something terrible seemed to crash inside Pan. Catastrophe! It washere. His mother's dark eyes held love, pity, and passion, which lastwas not for him. 

"Mother, go home at once, " he said swiftly. "Tell Dad to rush buyingthose wagons. You and Alice pack. We shake the dust of this damnedtown. Don't worry. Lucy will leave with _us_!"

Then Pan broke into long springy strides, almost a run. Indeed Blinkyhad to run to keep up with him. "I told you, pard, " said his comrade. Huskily. "Hell to pay! ---- ---- the luck!"

Pan had only one conscious thought--to see Lucy. All else seemeddamming behind flood gates. 

People rushed into the street to get out of the way of the cowboys. Others stared and made gestures. Booted men on the porch of the YellowMine stamped noisily as they trooped to get inside. Voices of alarmand mirth rang out. Pan took only a fleeting glance into the widedoorway. He saw nothing, thought nothing. His stride quickened as hepassed Black's store, where more men crowded to get inside. 

"Save your--wind, pard, " warned Blinky. "You might--need it. "

They reached the end of the street and across the wide square stood theoutgoing stage, before the express office. There was no driver on thefront seat. Smith, the agent, was emerging from the office withmailbags. 

"Slow up, pard, " whispered Blinky, at Pan's elbow. 

Pan did as he was advised, though his stride still retained speed. Impossible to go slowly! There were passengers in the stagecoach. When Pan reached the middle of the street he saw the gleam of goldenhair that he knew. Lucy! Her back was turned to him. And as herecognized her, realized he had found her, there burst forth in hismind a thundering clamor of questioning voices. 

A few more strides took him round the stage. Men backed away from him. The door was open. 

"_Lucy_!" he called, and his voice seemed to come piercingly from afar-off place. 

She turned a strange face, but he knew her eyes, saw the swifttransition, the darkening, widening. How white she turned! What wasthis! Agony in recognition! A swift unuttered blaze of joy thatchanged terror. He saw her lips frame his name, but no sound came. 

"_Lucy_!" he cried. "What does this mean? Where are you going?"

She could not speak. But under her pallor the red of shame began toburn. Pan saw it, and he recognized it. Mutely he gazed at the girlas her head slowly sank. Then he asked hoarsely: "What's it mean?"

"Pard, take a peep round heah, " drawled Blinky in slow cool speech thatseemed somehow to carry menace. 

Pan wheeled. He had the shock of his life. He received it before hiswhirling thoughts recorded the reason. It was as if he had to looktwice. Dick Hardman! Fashionably and wonderfully attired! Pan got nofarther than sight of the frock coat, elaborate vest, flowing tie, andhigh hat. Then for a second he went blind. 

When the red film cleared he saw Hardman pass him, saw the pallor ofhis cheek, the quivering of muscle, the strained protruding of his eye. 

He got one foot on the stage step when Pan found release for his voice. 

"_Hardman_!"

That halted the youth, as if it had been a rope, but he never turnedhis head. The shuffling of feet inside the coach hinted of more thanrestlessness. There was a scattering of men from behind Pan. 

He leaped at Hardman and spun him round. 

"Where are you going?"

"Frisco, if it's--any of your business, " replied Hardman incoherently. 

"Looks like I'll make it my business, " returned Pan menacingly. Hecould not be himself here. The shock had been too great. His mindseemed stultified. 

"Hardman--do you mean--do you think--you're taking _her_--away?"queried Pan, as if strangling. 

"Ha!" returned Hardman with an upfling of head, arrogant, vain for allhis fear. "I know it. .. . She's my wife!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Destruction, death itself seemed to overthrow Panhandle Smith'sintensity of life. He reeled on his feet. For a moment all seemedopaque, with blurred images. There was a crash, crash, crash ofsomething beating at his ears. 

How long this terrible oblivion possessed Pan he did not know. But atHardman's move to enter the stage, he came back a million times morealive than ever he had been--possessed of devils. 

With one powerful lunge he jerked Hardman back and flung him sprawlinginto the dust. 

"There! Once more!. .. " cried Pan, panting. "Remember--theschoolhouse? That fight over Lucy Blake! Damn your skunk soul!. .. Get up, _if_ you've got a gun!"

Hardman leaned on his hand. His high hat had rolled away. Hisbroadcloth suit was covered with dust. But he did not note thesedetails of his abasement. Like a craven thing fascinated by a snake hehad his starting eyes fixed upon Pan, and his face was something no mancould bear to see. 

"Get up--_if_ you've got a gun!" ordered Pan. 

"I've no--gun--" he replied, in husky accents. 

"Talk, then. Maybe I can keep from killing you. "

"For God's sake--don't shoot me. I'll tell you anything. "

"Hardman, you say you--you _married_ my--this girl?" rasped out Pan, choking over his words as if they were poison, unable to speak of Lucyas he had thought of her all his life. 

"Yes--I married her. "

"_Who_ married you?"

"A parson from Salt Lake. Matthews got him here. "

"Ah-uh!--Matthews. _How_ did you force her?"

"I swear to God she was willing, " went on Hardman. "Her father wantedher to. "

"What? Jim Blake left here for Arizona. I sent him away. "

"But he never went--I--I mean he got caught--put in jail again. Matthews sent for the officers. They came. And they said they'd putBlake away for ten years. But I got him off. .. Then Lucy was willingto marry me--and she did. There's no help for it now. .. Too late. "

"_Liar_!" hissed Pan. "You frightened her--tortured her. "

"No, I--I didn't do anything. It was her father. He persuaded her. "

"Drove her, you mean. And you paid him. Admit it or I'll--" Pan'smove was threatening. 

"Yes--yes, I did, " jerked out Hardman in a hoarser, lower voice. Something about his lifelong foe appalled him. He was abject. Noconfession of his guilt was needed. 

"Go get yourself a gun. You'll have to kill me before you start out onyour honeymoon. Reckon I think you're going to hell. .. . Get up. .. . Go get yourself a gun. .. . "

Hardman staggered to his feet, brushing the dirt from his person whilehe gazed strickenly at Pan. 

"My God, I can't fight you, " he said. "You won't murder me in coldblood. .. Smith, I'm Lucy's husband. .. She's my wife. "

"And what is Louise Melliss?" whipped out Pan. "What does _she_ sayabout your marriage? You ruined her. You brought her here to Marco. You tired of her. You abandoned her to that hellhole owned by yourfather. He got his just deserts and you'll get yours. "

Hardman had no answer. Like a dog under the lash he cringed at Pan'swords. 

"Get out of my sight, " cried Pan, at the end of his endurance. "Andremember the next time I see you, I'll begin to shoot. "

Pan struck him, shoved him out into the street. Hardman staggered on, forgetting his high hat that lay in the dust. He got to going fasteruntil he broke into an uneven half-run. He kept to the middle of thestreet until he reached the Yellow Mine, where he ran up the steps anddisappeared. 

Pan backed slowly, step by step. He was coming out of his clampedobsession. His movement was now that of a man gripped by terror. Inreality Pan could have faced any peril, any horror, any physicalrending of flesh far more easily than this girl who had ruined him. 

She had left the stage and she stood alone. She spoke his name. Inthe single low word he divined fear. How long had she been that dog'swife? When had she married him? Yesterday, or the day before--a week, what did it matter?

"_You--you_!" he burst out helplessly in the grip of deadly hate andagony. He hated her then--hated her beauty--and the betrayal of herfear for him. What was life to him now? Oh, the insupportablebitterness!

"Go back to my mother, " he ordered harshly, and averted his face. 

Then he seemed to forget her. He saw Blinky close to him, deeplyshaken, yet composed and grim. He heard the movement of many feet, thestamping of hoofs. 

"All aboard for Salt Lake, " called the stage driver. Smith the agentpassed Pan with more mailbags. The strain all about him had broken. 

"Pard, " Pan said, laying a hand on Blinky. "Go with her--take her tomy mother. .. . And leave me alone. "

"No, by Gawd!" replied Blinky sullenly. "You forget this heah is mydeal too. There's Louise. .. . An' Lucy took her bag an' hurried away. There, she's runnin' past the Yellow Mine. "

"Blink, did she hear what I said to Hardman about Louise?" asked Panbitterly. 

"Reckon not. She'd keeled over aboot then. I shore kept my eye onher. An' I tell you, pard--"

"Never mind, " interrupted Pan. "What's the difference? Hellsfire!Whisky! Let's get a drink. It's whisky I want. "

"Shore. I told you thet a while back. Come on, pard. It's red-eyefer us!"

They crossed to the corner saloon, a low dive kept by a Chinaman andfrequented by Mexicans and Indians. These poured out pellmell as thecowboys jangled up to the bar. Jard Hardman's outfit coming to townhad prepared the way for this. 

"Howdy, " was Blinky's greeting to the black bottle that was thumpedupon the counter. "You look mighty natural . .. Heah's to PanhandleSmith!"

Pan drank. The fiery liquor burned down to meet and coalesce roundthat gnawing knot in his internals. It augmented while it soothed. Itburned as it cooled. It inflamed, but did not intoxicate. 

"Pard, heah's to the old Cimarron, " said Blinky, as they drank again. 

Pan had no response. Memory of the Cimarron only guided his flyingmind over the ranges to Las Animas. They drank and drank. Blinky'stongue grew looser. 

"Hold your tongue, damn you, " said Pan. 

"Imposshiblity. Lesh have another. "

"One more then. You're drunk, cowboy. "

"Me drunk? No shir, pard. I'm just tongue-tied. .. . Now, by Gawd, heah's to Louise Melliss!"

"I drink to that, " flashed Pan, as he drained his glass. 

The afternoon had waned. Matthews lay dead in the street. He lay infront of the Yellow Mine, from which he had been driven by men whowould no longer stand the strain. 

The street was deserted except for that black figure, lying face downwith a gun in his right hand. His black sombrero lay flat. The windhad blown a high hat down the street until it had stopped near thesombrero. Those who peeped out from behind doors or from windowsespied these sinister objects. 

Pan had patrolled the street. He had made a house-to-house canvass, searching for Jim Blake. He had entered every place except the YellowMine. That he reserved for the last. But he did not find Blake. Heencountered, however, a slight pale man in clerical garb. 

"Are you the parson Matthews brought to Marco?" demanded Pan harshly. 

"Yes, Sir, " came the reply. 

"Did you marry young Hardman to--to--" Pan could not end the query. 

The minister likewise found speech difficult, but his affirmative wasnot necessary. 

"Man, you may be innocent of evil intent. But you've ruined my--girl. .. And me! You've sent me to hell. I ought to kill you. "

"Pard, shore we mushn't kill thish heah parson just yet, " drawledBlinky, thickly. "He'll come in handy. "

"Ahuh! Right you are, Blinky, " returned Pan, with a ghastly pretenseof gaiety. "Parson, stay right here till we come for you. --Maybe youmake up a little for the wrong you did one girl. "

The Yellow Mine stood with glass uplifted and card unplayed. 

Pan had entered from the dance hall entrance. Blinky, unsteady on hisfeet, came in from the street. After a tense moment the poker playerswent on with their game, and the drinkers emptied their glasses. Butvoices were low, glances were furtive. 

Pan had seen every man there before he had been seen himself. Only oneinterested him--that was Jim Blake. What to do to this man or with himPan found it hard to decide. Blake had indeed fallen low. But Pangave him the benefit of one doubt--that he had been wholly dominated byHardman. Yet there was the matter of accepting money for his part inforcing Lucy to marry Dick. 

The nearer end of the bar had almost imperceptibly been vacated bydrinkers sliding down toward the other rear end. Pan took the foremostend of the vacated position. He called for drink. As fast as he haddrunk, the fiery effects had as swiftly passed away. Yet each drinkfor the moment kept up that unnatural stimulus. 

Pan beckoned for Blinky. That worthy caused a stir, then a silence, bygoing round about the tables, so as not to come between Pan and any menthere. 

"Blink, do you know where Louise's room is?" queried Pan. 

"Shore. Down thish hall--third door on left, " replied Blinky. 

"Well, you go over there to Blake and tell him I want to talk to him. Then you go to Louise's room. I'll follow directly. "

Blake received the message, but he did not act promptly. Pan caughthis suspicious eye, baleful, gleaming. Possibly the man was worse thanweak. Presently he left the poker game which he had been watching andshuffled up to Pan. He appeared to be enough under the influence ofliquor to be leeringly bold. 

"Howdy, " he said. 

"Blake, today I got from Hardman the truth about the deal you gave meand Lucy, " returned Pan, and then in cold deliberate tones he calledthe man every infamous name known to the ranges. Under this onslaught, Blake sank into something akin to abasement. 

"Reckon you think, " concluded Pan, "that because you're Lucy's father Ican't take a shot at you. Don't fool yourself. You've killed hersoul--and mine. So why shouldn't I kill you? . .. Well, there isn'tany reason except that away from Hardman's influence you might braceup. I'll take the chance. You're done in Marco. Jard Hardman is deadand Dick's chances of seeing the sun rise are damn thin. .. . Now yourustle out that door and out of Marco. When you make a man of yourselfcome to Siccane, Arizona. "

Blake lurched himself erect, and met Pan's glance with astonishedbewildered eyes; then he wheeled to march out of the saloon. 

Pan turned into the hallway leading into the hotel part of thebuilding, and soon encountered Blinky leaning against the wall. 

"Blink, isn't she in?" asked Pan, low voiced and eager. 

"Shore, but she won't open the door, " replied Blinky dejectedly. 

Pan knocked and called low: "Louise, let us in. "

There was a long wait, then came a low voice: "No. "

"Please, it's very important. "

"Who are you?"

"It's Panhandle Smith, " replied Pan. 

"That cowboy's drunk and I--no--I'm sorry. "

"Louise I'm not drunk, but I am in bad temper. I ask as a friend. Don't cross me here. I can easy shove in this door. "

He heard soft steps, a breathless exclamation, then a key turned in thelock, and the door opened. The lamplight was not bright, Louise stoodthere half dressed, her bare arms and bosom gleaming. Pan entered, dragging Blinky with him, and closed the door all but tight. 

"Louise, it wasn't kind of you to do that, " said Pan reproachfully. "Have you any better friends than Blinky or me?"

"God knows--I haven't, " faltered the girl. "But I've been ill--inbed--and am just getting out. I--I--heard about you--today--and Blinkbeing with you--drunk. "

Pan stepped to the red-shaded lamp on a small table beside the bed, andturned up the light. The room had more comfort and color than any Panhad seen for many a day. 

He bent searching eyes upon Louise. She did look ill--white, withgreat dark shadows under her eyes, but she seemed really beautiful. What a tragic face it was, betrayed now by lack of paint! Pan hadnever seen her like this. If he had needed it, this would have warmedhis heart to her. 

"What do you want of me?" she asked, with a nervous twisting of handsshe tried to hide. 

Pan took her hands and pulled her a little toward him. 

"Louise, you like me, don't you, as a friend or brother?" he askedgently. 

"Yes, when I'm sober, " she replied wanly. 

"And you like Blinky, here, don't you--like him a lot?"

"I did. I couldn't help it, the damn faithful little cowboy, " shereturned. "But I hate him when he's drunk, and he hates me when I'mdrunk. "

"Blink, go out and fetch back a bottle--presently. We'll all getdrunk. "

The cowboy stared like a solemn owl, then very quietly went out. 

"Louise, put something over your shoulders. You'll catch cold. Here, "said Pan and he picked a robe off the bed and wrapped it round her. "Ididn't know you were so pretty. No wonder poor Blink worships you. "

She drew away from him and sat upon the bed, dark eyes questioning, suspicious. Yet she seemed fascinated. Pan caught a slight quiveringof her frame. Where was the audacity, the boldness of this girl? Buthe did not know her, and he had her word that drink alone enabled herto carry on. He had surprised her. Yet could that account forsomething different, something quite beyond his power to grasp? Surelythis girl could not fear him. Suddenly he remembered that Hardman hadfled to this house--was hidden there now. Pan's nerves tautened. 

"Louise, " he began, taking her hand again, and launching directly intothe reason for this interview he had sought, "we've had a great drive. Blink and I have had luck. Oh, such luck! We sold over fifteenhundred horses. .. . Well, we're going to Arizona, to a sunny opencountry, not like this. .. . Now Blink and I want you to go with us. "

"What! Go away with you? How, in God's name?" she gasped in utteramaze. 

"Why, as Blink's wife, of course. And I'll be your big brother, "replied Pan, not without agitation. It was a pregnant moment. Shestared a second, white and still, with great solemn searching eyes onhis. Pan felt strangely embarrassed, yet somehow happy that he haddared to approach her with such a proposition. 

Suddenly she kissed him, she clung to him, she buried her face on hisshoulder and he heard her murmur incoherently something about"honest-to-God men. "

"What do you say, little girl?" he went on. "It's a chance for you tobe good again. It'll save that wild cowboy, who never had a decentambition till he met you. He loves you. He worships you. He hateswhat you have to suffer here. He--"

"So this is Panhandle Smith?" she interrupted, looking up at him witheyes like dark stars. "No! No! No! I wouldn't degrade even aworthless cowboy. "

"You're wrong. He'll _not_ be worthless, if you repay his faith. Louise, don't turn your back on hope, on love, on a home. "

"No!" she flashed, passionately. 

"Why?" he returned, in sharp appeal. 

"Because he's too good for me. Because I don't deserve yourfriendship. But so help me God I'll love you both all the rest of mymiserable life--which won't be long. "

He took her in his arms, as if to add force to argument. "But, youpoor child, this is no place for you. You'll only go to hell--commitsuicide or be killed in a drunken brawl. "

"Panhandle, I may end even worse, " she replied, in bitter mockery. "Imight marry Dick Hardman. He talks of it--when he's drunk. "

Pan released her, and leaned back to see her face. "_Marry_ you! DickHardman talks of that?" he burst out incredulously. 

"Yes, he does. And I might let him when I'm drunk. I'd do anythingthen. "

At that moment the door opened noiselessly and Blinky entered carryinga bottle and glasses. 

"Good, Blink, old pard, " said Pan, breathing heavily. "Louise and Ihave just made up our minds to get drunk together. Blink, you staysober. "

"I cain't stay what I ain't, " retorted Blinky. "An' I won't stay heah, either, to see her drink. I hate her then. "

She poured the dark red liquor out into the glasses. "Boy, I want youto hate me. I'll make you hate me. .. Here's to Panhandle Smith!"

While she drank Blinky moved backwards to the door, eyes glintingbrightly into Pan's and then he was gone. 

In the mood under which Pan labored, liquor had no effect upon him butto act as fire to body and mind. The girl, however, was transformedinto another creature. Bright red spots glowed in her cheeks, her eyesdanced and dilated, her whole body answered to the stimulus. One drinkled to another. She could not resist the insidious appetite thuscreated. She did not see whether Pan drank or not. She grew funny, then sentimental, and finally lost herself in that stage of unnaturalabandon for which, when sober, she frankly confessed she drank. 

Pan decided that presently he would wrap a blanket around her, pick herup and pack her out. Blinky would shoot out the lights in the saloon, and the rest would be easy. If she knew that Hardman was in the house, as Pan had suspected, she had now no memory of it. 

"You big handsome devil, " she called Pan. "I told you--to keep awayfrom me. "

"Louise, don't make love to me, " replied Pan. 

"Why not? Men are all alike. "

"No, you're wrong. You forget what you said a little while ago. I'velost my sweetheart, and my heart is broken. "

She leered at him, and offered him another drink. Pan took the glassaway from her. It was possible he might overdo his part. 

"So you're liable to marry young Hardman?" he asked deliberately. 

The question, the name, gave her pause, as if they had startled hermemory. 

"Sure I am. "

"But, Louise, how can you marry Hardman when he already has a wife?"asked Pan. 

She grasped that import only slowly, by degrees. 

"You lie, you gun-slinging cowboy!" she cried. 

"No, Louise. He told me so himself. "

"He did! . .. When?" she whispered, very low. 

"Today. He was at the stage office. He meant to leave today. He wasall togged up, frock coat, high hat. .. . Oh, God--Louise, I know, I_know_, because it--was--my--sweetheart--he married. "

Pan ended gaspingly. What agony to speak that aloud--to make his ownsoul hear that aloud!

"_Your_ sweetheart? . .. Little Lucy--of your boyhood--you told meabout?"

Pan was confronted now by something terrible. He had sought to makethis girl betray herself, if she had anything to betray. But thisMedusa face! Those awful eyes!

"Yes, Lucy, I told you, " he said, reaching for her. "He forced her tomarry him. They had Lucy's father in jail. Dick got him out. Oh, itwas all a scheme to work on the poor girl. She thought it was to saveher father. .. . Why, Dick paid her father. I made him tell me. .. Yes, Dick Hardman in his frock coat and high hat! But when I drove him outto get his gun, he forgot that high hat. "

"Ah! His high hat!"

"Yes, it's out in the street now. The wind blew it over where I killedMatthews. Funny! . .. And Louise, I'm going to kill Dick Hardman, too. "

"Like hell you are!" she hissed, and leaped swiftly to snatch somethingfrom under the pillow. 

Pan started back, thinking that she meant to attack him. Howtigerishly she bounded! Her white arm swept aside red curtains. Theyhid a shallow closet. It seemed her white shape flashed in and out. Ahard choking gasp! Could that have come from her? Pan did not see herdrawn lips move. Something hard dropped to the floor with metallicsound. 

The hall door opened with a single sweep. Blinky stood framed there, wild eyed. And the next instant Dick Hardman staggered from thatcloset. He had both hands pressed to his abdomen. Blood poured out ina stream. Pan heard strange watery sounds. Hardman reeled out intothe hall, groaning. He slipped along the wall. Pan leaped, to see himslide down into a widening pool of blood. 

It was a paralyzing moment. But Pan recovered first. The girl swayedwith naked arms outstretched against the wall. On her white wristshowed a crimson blot. Pan looked no more. Snatching a blanket offthe bed he threw it round her, wrapped it tight, and lifted her in hisarms. 

"Blink, go ahead, " he whispered, as he went into the hall. "Hurry!Shoot out the lights! Go through the dance hall!"

The cowboy seemed galvanized into action. He leaped over Hardman'sbody, huddled and lax, and down the hall, pulling his guns. 

Pan edged round the body on the floor. He saw a ghastlyface--protruding eyes. And on the instant, like lightning, came thethought that Lucy was free. Almost immediately thundering shots filledthe saloon. Crash! Crash! Crash! The lights faded, darkened, wentout. Yells and scraping chairs and overturned tables, breaking glass, pounding boots merged in a pandemonium of sound. 

Pan hurried through the dance hall, where the windows gave dim light, found the doorway, gained the side entrance to the street. Blinkywaited there, smoking guns in his hands. 

"Heah--this--way, " he directed in a panting whisper, as he sheathed theguns, and took the lead. Pan followed in the shadow of the houses. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The street down that way was dark, with but few lights showing. Blinkykept looking back in the direction of the slowly subsiding tumult. Pancarried Louise at rapid pace, as if she made no burden at all. In themiddle of the next block Blinky slowed up, carefully scrutinizing theentrances to the buildings. They came to an open hallway, dimlylighted. Pan read a sign he remembered. This was the lodging house. 

"Go in, Blink, " directed Pan quickly. "If you find our parson chaseeverybody but him and call me pronto. "

Blinky ran into the place. Pan let Louise down on her feet. She couldnot stand alone. 

"Cowboy--smozzer me, " she giggled, pulling at the fold of blanket roundher face. 

Pan rearranged the blanket over her bare shoulders, and folded it roundmore like a coat. He feared she might collapse before they couldaccomplish their design. The plight of this girl struck deeply intohis heart. 

"Whaz--mazzer, cowboy?" she asked. "Somebody's raid us?"

"Hush, Louie, " whispered Pan shaking her. "There'll be a gang afterus. "

"Hell with gang. .. . Shay, Pan, whaz become of Dick?"

She was so drunk she did not remember. Pan thanked God for that! Howwhite the tragic face! Her big eyes resembled bottomless gulfs. Herhair hung disheveled round her. 

A low whistle made Pan jump. Blinky stood inside in a flare of lightfrom an open door. He beckoned. Pan lifted the girl and carried herin. 

Five minutes later they came out, one on each side of Louise, trying tokeep her quiet. She was gay, maudlin. But once outside again, therush of cold mountain air aided them. They hurried down the darkstreet, almost carrying the girl between them. A few people passed, fortunately on the other side. These pedestrians were hurrying in theother direction. Some excitement uptown, Pan thought grimly! Soonthey passed the outskirts of Marco and gained the open country. Pancast off what seemed a weight of responsibility for Blinky and Louise. Once he got them out of town they were safe. 

Suddenly Blinky reached behind the girl and gave Pan a punch. Turning, Pan saw his comrade point back. A dull red flare lighted up the sky. Fire! Pan's heart gave a leap. The Yellow Mine was burning. Thecrowd of drinkers and gamblers had fled before Blinky's guns. Pan washoping that only he and Blinky would ever know who had killed DickHardman. 

From time to time Pan glanced back over his shoulder. The flare of redlight grew brighter and higher. One corner of Marco would surely bewiped out. 

The road curved. Soon a dark patch of trees, and a flickering light, told Pan they had reached his father's place. It gave him a shock. Hehad forgotten his parents. They entered the lane and cut off throughthe dew-wet grass of the orchard to the barn. Pan caught the roundpale gleam of canvas-covered wagons. 

"Good! Dad sure rustled, " said Pan with satisfaction. "If he got thehorses, too, we can leave tomorrow. "

"Shore, we will anyhow, " replied Blinky, who was now sober and serious. 

They found three large wagons and one smaller, with a square canvas top. 

"Blink, hold her, till I get some hay, " said Pan. 

He hurried into the open side of the barn. It was fairly dark but heknew where to go. He heard horses munching grain. That meant hisfather had bought the teams. Pan got an armful of hay, and carrying itout to the wagon, he threw it in, and spread it out for a bed. 

"Reckon we'd better put Louise here, " said Pan, stepping down off thewheel. "I'll get some blankets from Dad. "

Blinky was standing there in the starlight holding the girl in hisarms. His head was bowed over her wan face. 

They lifted Louise into the wagon and laid her down upon the hay. 

"Whish you--gennelmanz my hushband?" she asked thickly. 

Pan had to laugh at that, but Blinky stood gazing intently down uponthe pale gleam of face. Pan left him there and strode toward thehouse. Though the distance was short, he ran the whole gamut ofemotions before he stopped at a lighted window. He heard his father'svoice. 

"Dad, " he called, tapping on the window. Then he saw his mother andAlice. They had started up from packing. One glance at the sufferingexpressed in his mother's face was enough to steady Pan. The dooropened with a jerk. 

"That you--Pan?" called his father, with agitation. 

"Nobody else, Dad, " replied Pan, trying to calm his voice. "TellMother I'm here safe and sound. "

His mother heard and answered with a low cry of relief. 

"Dad, come out. .. . Shut the door, " returned Pan sharply. 

Once outside his father saw the great flare of light above the town. 

"Look! What's that? Must be fire!" he burst out. 

"Reckon it is fire, " returned Pan shortly. "Blinky shot out the lampsin the Yellow Mine. Fire must have caught from that. "

"Yellow Mine!" echoed Smith, staring in momentary stupefaction. 

Pan laid a heavy hand on him. It was involuntary, an expression of asudden passion rising in Pan. He had a question to put that almoststifled him. 

"Lucy! . .. Did she--come home?" he forced out. 

"Sure. Didn't you know? She was home when I got here at noon. Son, Ibought all our outfit in no time. "

"What did Lucy tell you?"

"Nothin' much, " replied his father, in earnest wonder. "She was in anawful state. Said she couldn't go because you were not dead . .. Poorgirl! She had hysterics. But mother got her quieted down bysuppertime. "

"Where is she now?"

"In bed, I reckon. Leastways she's in her room. "

"Dad, does she know? But of course she couldn't . .. Nor could you!"

"Son, I know aplenty, " replied his father, solemnly. "Lucy told motherwhen she saw you come to the stagecoach that it nearly killed her. They believed you dead--mother an' Lucy. .. . She told how you threwHardman out of the stage on to the street. Said she almost faintedthen. But she came to in time to see you kick him--drive him off. "

"Is that all she knows?" queried Pan. 

"Reckon it is. I know more, but I didn't tell her, " replied Smith, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I heard about them drivin' Matthewsout to meet you. .. . McCormick told me you hadn't lost any friends. "

"Ah-huh!" ejaculated Pan somberly. "Well, better tell Lucy at once. .. . Reckon that's best--the sooner the better. "

"Tell Lucy what?" asked Smith anxiously. 

"That she's a widow. "

"It--is Dick Hardman dead--too?" gasped out Smith. 

"Yes. "

"My God! Son--did--did you--"

"Dad, I didn't kill him, " interrupted Pan. "Dick Hardman was--wasknocked out--just before Blinky shot out the lights. Reckon it's agood bet no one will ever know. He sure was burned up in that fire. "

"_Alive_?" whispered Smith. 

"He might still have been alive, but he was far gone--unconscious whenI passed him in the hall. You needn't tell Lucy that. Just tell herHardman is dead and that _I_ didn't kill him. "

"All right, I'll go right an' do it, " replied his father huskily. 

"Before you do it fetch me a roll of blankets. We haven't any beds. And Blinky's wife is with us. "

"Wife? I didn't know Blinky had one. Fetch her in. We'll make roomsomewhere. "

"No, we've already fixed a place for her in that wagon with the squaretop, " went on Pan. "She's been sick. Rustle, Dad. Fetch me theblankets. "

"Got them right inside. We bought new ones, " said Smith, opening thedoor to hurry in. 

"Mother, " called Pan, "everything's all right. We'll be leaving earlytomorrow. "

Then his father reappeared with a roll of blankets. Pan found Blinkyexactly as he had left him, leaning over the wagon. 

"Blink, put a couple of these blankets over her, " directed Pan. 

"She went right off, asleep, like she was daid, " whispered the cowboy, and he took the blankets and stepped up on the wheel hub to lay theblankets softly over the quiet form Pan saw dimly in the starlight. 

"Come here, cowboy, " called Pan. 

And when Blinky got down and approached, Pan laid hold of him withpowerful hand. 

"Listen, pard, " he began, in low voice. "We're playing a deep game, and by God, it's an honest game, even though we have to lie. .. . Louisewill never remember she cut that traitor's heart out. She was toocrazy. If it half returns to her we'll lie--you understand--_lie_. .. . Nobody will ever know who did kill Hardman, I'll gamble. I intendedto, and all Marco must have known that. If he burned up they can'tever be sure. Anyway, that doesn't matter. It's our women folks we'vegot to think of. I told Dad you'd brought your wife--that she'd beensick. He'll tell Mother and Lucy. They don't know, and they neverwill know what kind of a girl Louise has been. .. . Savvy, pard?"

"Reckon I do, " replied Blinky, in hoarse trembling accents. "But won'twe have hell with Louise--when she wakes up sober?"

"Cowboy, you bet we will, " returned Pan grimly. "But we'll be far onour way when she wakes up. You can drive this wagon. We'll keep watchon her. And, well--leave it to me, Blink. "

"Pan, we feel the same aboot Louie? Shore I don't mean thet you loveher. Reckon it's hard fer me to find words. "

"I understand, Blink, " replied Pan, earnestly, hoping to dispel thegroping and doubt of his comrade's soul. "For you and me Louie's pastis dead. We're gambling on life. And whatever way you put it, whatever the future brings, we're better for what happened tonight. "

Pan strode off in the starlight, across the orchard, down along themurmuring stream to the cottonwood tree with the bench. 

It was useless for him to try to sleep. To and fro he paced in thestarlight. Alone now, with the urgent activities past for the time, hereverted to the grim and hateful introspection that had haunted hismind. 

This once, however, the sinister strife in his soul, that strange icyclutch on his senses--the aftermath of instinctive horror following thedeath of a man by his hand--wore away before the mounting of a passionthat had only waited. 

It did not leap upon him unawares, like an enemy out of ambush. Itgrew as he walked, as his whirling thoughts straightened in a singleline to--Lucy. She had betrayed him. She had broken his heart. Whatif she had thought him dead--sacrificed herself to save herfather?--She had given herself to that dog Hardman. The thought wasinsupportable. "I hate her, " he whispered. "She's made me hate her. "

The hours passed, the stars moved across the heavens, the night windceased, the crickets grew silent, and the murmuring stream flowed on atPan's feet. Spent and beaten he sat upon the bench. His love for Lucyhad not been killed. It lived, it had grown, it was tremendous--andboth pity and reason clamored that he be above jealousy and hate. After all there was excuse for Lucy. She was young, she had beendriven by grief over his supposed death and fear for her father. Butoh! The pity of it--of this hard truth against the sweetness andpurity of his dream! Life and love were not what he had dreamed themas he had ridden the lonely ranges. He must suffer because he had leftLucy to fight her battles. 

"I'll try to forget, " he whispered huskily. "I've got to. But notyet. I can't do it yet. .. . We'll leave this country far behind. Andsome day we can go on with--with all we planned. "

Pan went back to the barn and threw himself upon the hay, whereexhausted brain and body sank to sleep and rest. It seemed that avoice and a rude hand tore away the sweet oblivion. 

"Pard, are you daid?" came Blinky's voice, keen and full with newernote. "Sunup an' time to rustle. Your dad's heah an' he saysbreakfast is waitin'. "

Pan rose and stretched. His muscles ached as though he had beenbeaten. How bright the sun! Night was gone and with it somethingdreadful. 

"Pan, shore you're a tough lookin' cowboy this mawnin', " said Blinky. "Wash an' shave yourself like I did. Heah's my razor. There's a basinan' water up under the kitchen porch. "

"Howdy, bridegroom, " returned Pan with appreciative eyes on Blinky'sshiny face and slick hair. "How's your wife?"

"Daid to the world, " whispered Blinky, blushing red as a rose. "I tooka peep. Gee! Pard, I hope she sleeps all day an' all night. ShoreI'm scared fer her to wake. "

"I don't blame you, cowboy. It'll be funny when she finds out she'sgot a boss. "

"Pard, if we was away from this heah town I'd be happy, I swear. Wouldn't you?" returned Blinky shyly. 

"Why, Blink, I believe I would, " said Pan, and strode off toward thehouse. 

He made himself presentable before anyone saw him. Then he waited forhis father and Blinky, whom he heard talking. When they came up hejoined them. Wild horses could not have dragged him into the housealone. As they entered the kitchen Bobby let out a yell and made forhim. That loosened a strain for Pan and he picked up the lad. When hefaced his mother it was with composure that belied the state of hisfeelings. She appeared to be in a blaze of excitement, and at once herealized that all she had needed was his return, safe and sound. Thenhe heard Alice's voice and Lucy's in reply. As he set Bobby down, thrilling all over, the girls entered the kitchen. Alice's reply tohis greeting was at once bright and shy. Lucy halted in the doorway, with a hand on her breast. Her smile, slow and wistful, seemed to blotout traces of havoc in her face. But her eyes were dark purple, a signof strong emotion. Pan's slight inclination, unaccompanied by word ofgreeting, was as black a pretense as he had ever been guilty of. Sightof her had shot him through and through with pangs of bitter mockingjoy. But he gave no sign. During the meal he did not look at heragain. 

"Dad, have you got everything we'll need?" queried Pan presently. 

"I guess so, " replied Smith. "You can start loadin' the wagons. An'by the time two of them are done we'll have everythin' packed. "

"Blink can drive one wagon, you another, and I'll take the third tillwe get out to Snyder's. Then we'll need another driver, for it'll taketwo of us to handle the wild horses. "

"No, we won't, " replied his father. "Your mother an' Lucy can drive aswell as I. Son, I reckon we don't want anybody except our own outfit. "

"I'd like that myself, " admitted Pan thoughtfully. "If you've got goodgentle teams maybe Mother an' Lucy can take turns. We'll try it, anyhow. "

"I'll help you hitch up, " said Smith, following Pan out. "Son, do youlook for any trouble this mornin'?"

"Lord no. I'm not looking for trouble, " replied Pan. "I've sure hadenough. "

"Huh!" ejaculated Blinky. "Your dad means any backfire from Marco. Wal, I say there'll be nothin'. All the same we want to move, pronto. "

"I'd like to hear what happened after we left, " said Pan. 

"Somebody will tell us, " returned Smith. 

They had reached the end of the arbor when Lucy's voice called afterthem: "Pan--please wait. "

He turned to see her coming, twisting her apron in nervous hands. Pan's father and Blinky kept on toward the barn. Lucy came hurriedly, unevenly, pale, with parted lips, and eyes that held him. 

"Mother said you knew but--I must tell you--myself, " she said brokenly, as she halted close to him. "Day before yesterday--those men broughtword you'd been--killed in a fight over wild horses. It broke myheart. .. . I'd have taken my own life but for my father. I didn't carewhat happened. .. . Dick pressed me hard. Father begged me to save himfrom prison. .. . So I--I married Dick. "

"Yes, I know--I figured it out that way, " returned Pan in strange thickutterance. "You didn't need to tell me. "

"Why, Pan, you--you seem _different_, " she said, as if bewildered. "Your look--your voice . .. Oh, dear. I know yesterday was awful. Itmust have driven you mad. "

"By heaven, it did!" muttered Pan under his breath. 

"But you--you forgive me?" she faltered, reaching to touch him with ashaking hand. The gesture, so supplicating, so tender, the dark softhunger of her eyes, the sweetness of her then roused a tumult in him. How could she look at him like that? How dared she have such lovelight in her eyes?

"Forgive you for?--" he cried in fierce passion. But he could not putinto words what she had done. "I meant to kill that dog, Dick Hardman. But I didn't. .. . Forgive you--" he broke off, unable to go on. 

She was slow to grasp his intimation, though not his fury. Suddenlyher eyes dilated in horror. Then a great wave of scarlet blood sweptover her white neck and face. Pan saw in it the emblem of her shame. With a rending of his heart he swung away and left her. 

He plunged into the work at hand, and during the next couple of hoursrecovered from the shock of resisting Lucy's appeal. He hated himselffor the passion he could not subdue. When, however, it had slunk awayfor the time being, he began to wonder at her innocence and simplicity. He could not understand her. 

Presently his father and Blinky hunted him up with news of strongpurport plain in their faces. 

"Son, Marco is with you to a man!"

"Pard, I guess mebbe I didn't hev them hombres figgered?"

"What happened? Out with it, " replied Pan sharply. 

"Evans drove out bringin' stuff I bought yesterday, " returned hisfather. "He was full as a tick of news. By some miracle, only theYellow Mine burned. It was gutted, but the bucket brigade saved thehouses on each side. .. . Hardman's body was found burned to a crisp. It was identified by a ring. An' his dance-hall girl was found deadtoo, burned most as bad as he. .. . Accordin' to Evans most everybody inMarco wants to shake hands with Panhandle Smith. "

The covered wagons wound slowly down the hill toward Snyder's pasture. Pan, leading Blink's horse, held to the rear. The day, in somerespects, had been as torturing to him as yesterday--but with Marco farbehind and the open road ahead, calling, beckoning, the strain began tolessen. 

At the pasture gate the drivers halted the wagon teams, waiting for Panto come up. Gus had opened the wide-barred gate, and now stood therewith a grin of relief and gladness. 

"Drive in, " shouted Pan from behind. "We'll camp here tonight. "

"Howdy thar, you ole wild-hoss night wrangler, " yelled Blinky to Gus. 

"Howdy, yourself, " was the reply. "You can bet your roll that I neverexpected to see you agin. What'd you do to Marco?"

They drove in along the west fence, where a row of trees shaded thestill hot sun. 

"Gus, I see our wild horses are still keeping you company, " remarkedPan, as he loosened the cinch of his saddle. 

"Shore. But they ain't so wild no more. I've fooled around with themfor two days now, " replied Gus. 

Pan smacked Sorrel on the flank: "There! Go take a look at your rival, Whitefoot. " But the sorrel hung around camp. He had been spoiled byan occasional nose bag of grain. Pan lent a hand all around, and tooknote of the fact that Blinky lingered long around his wagon. Panpeeped over the wagon side. Louise lay on her side with face exposed. It was pale, with eyelids tight. In sleep her features betrayed howlife had wronged her. 

"Reckon you're wise, Blink, to keep your wagon away from the otherslike this, " said Pan. "Because when your wife wakes up there's liableto be hell. Call me pronto. "

"Pard, you're shore she ain't in a stupor or somethin'?" queriedBlinky, apprehensively. 

"Blink, you know she was ill for ten days. Then she drank a lot. Reckon she's knocked out. But there's nothing to worry about, exceptshe'll jump the traces when she comes to. "

"You mean when she finds out--I--she--we're married?"

"That's what, Pard Blink. I wish you didn't have to tell her. "

"_Me_? My Gawd, I cain't tell her, " replied Blinky, in consternation. "Shore you gotta do that. "

"All right, Blink. I'll save what little hair you have left, " returnedPan, good humoredly. 

He walked out to take a look at the horses, which were scattered on thefar side of the pasture. They could not be closely approached, yetwere not nearly so wild as he had expected them to be. The saddle andwagon horses grazed among them. The blue roan looked vastly better fortwo days' rest. Whitefoot was a noble stallion. Sight of Little Baybrought keen pain to Pan. What boundless difference between his stateof mind when he had caught that beautiful little horse and what it wasnow!

Pan went back to the campfire. Supper was in progress, with thecapable Mrs. Smith bustling about. Lucy and Alice were assisting. Panstole a glance at Lucy. Her face was flushed from the wind and sun;she wore a white apron; her sleeves were rolled up to show round strongarms. Bobby and his two puppies were much in the way. 

"Pan, how is Mrs. Somers?" inquired his mother solicitously. 

"Who?" queried Pan, puzzled. 

"Why, your partner's wife. "

"Oh, Blinky! . .. Gee, I'd clean forgot his right name, " laughed Pan, mentally kicking himself. "She's still sound asleep. I told Blinkynot to wake her. She looked white and worn out. "

"But she'll starve, " interposed Lucy, with questioning eyes on Pan. Indeed their meaning had no relation to her words. "You men don't knowanything. Won't you let me wake her?"

"Thanks. Better let her alone till tomorrow, " replied Pan briefly. 

Presently there came the call to supper, which had been laid upon a newtarpaulin spread on the ground. The men flopped down, and satcross-legged, each with silent or vociferous appreciation of thatgenerous repast. 

"Shades of the grub line!" ejaculated Blinky. "Am I ridin' ordreamin'?"

"Mother, this is heaven for a cowboy. And think, we'll be three weekson the road, " added Pan. 

"But, son, our good things to eat won't last that long, " she replied, much gratified by his compliment. 

"Aw, the good Lord shore remembered me when he throwed me in with thisoutfit, " declared the usually reticent Gus. 

Pan observed that both Alice and his mother strictly avoided servinghim with those things that had to be carried hot from the campfire. They let Lucy do it. Pan did not look up at her, and murmured histhanks in monosyllables. Once her hand touched his and the contact waslike a galvanizing current. For the moment he could not go on eating. 

During the sunset hour Pan helped grease the wagon wheels, somethingthat had been neglected, and had retarded their progress. Other tasksused up the time until dark. Bobby got himself spanked by falling outof the wagon after he had been put to bed. 

It was after nightfall when Pan heard Blinky's call. He hurried overto the wagon, where he found his comrade tremendously excited. 

"Pard, she's waked up, " he whispered. 

Pan strode to the wagon. There was enough light for him to see thegirl sitting up, with hands pressed to her head. 

"Hello, Louie, " he said gently. 

"Where the hell am I?" she replied huskily, dropping her hands to stareat him. 

"On the way to Arizona. "

"Well, if it isn't handsome Panhandle . .. And Blinky!"

"Howdy--Louie, " said Blinky fearfully. 

"I've been drunk?" she queried. 

"Reckon you have--a little, " replied Pan. 

"And you boys have kidnapped me?" she went on. 

"I'm afraid that's so, Louie. "

"Get me a drink. _Not_ water! My head's bursting. And help me out ofthis haymow. "

She threw aside the blanket that partially covered her and got to herknees. Pan lifted her out of the wagon. Then he ran off toward campto get a flask. Upon returning he found Blinky trying to put a blanketround Louise's shoulders. She threw it off. 

"Wait till I cool off, " she said. "Panhandle, did you get it?--I'mshaky, all right. .. . Thanks. Some day I'll take my last drink. "

"Louie, I hope that will be soon, " rejoined Pan. 

"You know I hate whisky. .. . Oh, my head!--And my legs are cramped. Let me walk a little. "

Pan drew Blinky aside in the gloom. "She hasn't begun to think yet. Reckon you'd better stay away from her. Let her come back to thewagon. "

"Pard, shore she took our kidnappin' her all right, " whispered Blinky, hopefully. 

"Blink, I'll bet a million she'll be glad--after it all comes out, "responded Pan. 

Presently Louise interrupted their whispered colloquy. "Help me up. I'm sick--and weak. "

They lifted her back into the wagon and covered her. In the palestarlight her eyes looked unnaturally big and black. 

"No use--to lie, " she said drowsily, her head rolling. "I'm glad toleave--Marco. .. . Take me anywhere. "

Then her eyes closed. Again Pan drew Blinky away into the gloom. 

"It's the way I figured, " whispered Pan swiftly. "She'll neverremember what happened. "

"Thank Gawd fer thet, " breathed Blinky. 

They found the campfire deserted except for Gus and Pan's father. Evidently Pan's advent interrupted a story that had been most excitingto Gus. 

"Son, I--I was just tellin' Gus all I know about what come offyesterday, " explained Smith, frankly, though with some haste. "Butthere are some points I'd sure like cleared up for myself. "

Pan had expected this, and had fortified himself against the inevitable. 

"Well, get it over then once and for all, " he replied, not too civilly. 

"You come damn near buttin' right into the weddin'!" ejaculated Smith, with a sense of what dramatic possibility had just been missed. 

Pan, whose back had been turned to the campfire light, suddenly whirledas if on a pivot. 

"What?" he cried. Then there seemed to be a cessation of all hisfaculties. 

"Why, son, you needn't jump out of your boots, " returned the father, somewhat offended. "Lucy was married to Hardman in the stage officejust before you got there. Fact was, she'd just walked out to get inthe stage when you came. .. . Now, I was only sayin' how funny it'd beenif you had got there sooner. "

"Who--told--you--that?"

"Lucy told me. An' she said tonight she didn't believe you knew, "returned his father. 

There was a blank silence. Pan slowly turned away from the light. 

"No. I had an idea--she'd been married--days, " replied Pan in queerstrangled voice. 

"You should have asked some questions, " said Smith bluntly. "It was adamn unfortunate affair, but it mustn't be made worse for Lucy than itactually was. .. . She was Dick Hardman's wife for less than fiveminutes before you arrived. "

Without another word Pan stalked away into the darkness. He heard hisfather say: "Bet that's what ailed him--the darned idiot!"

Pan gained the pasture fence under the dark trees, and he grasped ittightly as if his hold on life had been shaken. The shock ofincredulous amaze passed away, leaving him in the grip of joy andgratitude and remorse. How vastly different was this vigil under thestars!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was Pan who routed out the campers next morning when the first roseof dawn flushed the clear-cut horizon line. 

He had the firewood collected, and the saddle horses in for their grainbefore Blinky presented himself. Wild eyed, indeed, was the cowboy. 

"Pard, " he whispered, huskily, dragging Pan aside some paces, "thecyclone's busted. "

"Yes?" queried Pan in both mirth and concern. 

"I was pullin' on my boots when Louise pokes her head above the wagonan' says: 'Hey, you bow-legged gurl snatcher, where's my clothes?'

"'What clothes?' I answers. An' she snaps out, 'Mine. Didn't youfetch my clothes?'

"'Louie, ' I says, 'we shore forgot them an' they burned up with all therest of the Yellow Mine. An' if you want to know, my dear, I'm darnglad of it. '

"Then, Pan, she began to cuss me, an' I jumps up mad, but rightdignified an' says, 'Mrs. Somers, I'll require you to stop usin'profanity. '

"'_Mrs. Somers_!' she whispers, her eyes poppin'. 'Are you crazy?'An' I told her I shore wasn't crazy an' I shore was sober. An' thet myname wasn't Moran, but Somers. 

"She gave a gasp an' fell back in the wagon. An' you bet I run feryou. Now, pard, for Gawd's sake, what'll I do?" finished Blinky with agroan. 

"Cowboy, you've done noble, " replied Pan in great satisfaction. 

"Wha-at!--Say, Pan, you look queer this mawnin'. Sort of shiny eyedan' light-footed. You don't look drunk or loco. So what ails you?"

"Blink, I'm as crazy as you, " responded Pan, almost hugging his friend. "But don't worry another minute. I swear I can fix it up with Louise. I swear I can fix _anything_. "

With that, Pan strode across the dew-wet grass to the trees under whichstood Blinky's wagon. There was no sign of the girl. Pan breasted thewagon side to look down. She was there, wide-eyed, with arms under herhead, staring at the colored leaves. 

"Morning, Louie, how are you?" he began cheerfully, smiling down uponher. 

"I don't know, " she replied. 

"Well, you look better, that's sure. "

"Pan, am I that cowboy's wife?" she queried, gravely. 

"Yes, " he replied, just as gravely. 

"Did he force me to marry him when I was drunk?"

"No. Blink is innocent of all except loving you, Louie, " answered Pan, deliberately choosing his words. He had planned all he meant to say. Last night under the trees, in the dark, many truths had come to him. "It was I who forced you to marry him. "

She covered her eyes with her hands and pressed hard as if to makeclear her bewildering thoughts. "Oh, I--I can't remember. "

"Louie, don't distress yourself, " he said, soothingly. "You bet _I_can remember, and I'll tell you. "

"Wait. I want to get up. But you forgot my clothes. I can't go roundin a blanket. "

"By golly, I never thought of that. But we didn't have much time. .. . See here, Louise, I can fix it. You're about the same height as Lucy. I'll borrow some of her clothes for you. "

"Lucy?" she echoed, staring at him. 

"Yes, Lucy, " he replied, easily. "And while I'm at it, I'll fetch abasin of hot water--and everything. "

Whereupon he hurried over to the campfire, where he found Mrs. Smithbusy and cheerful. "Lucy up yet?" he asked briskly. 

"Yes, Pan, " she replied with hurried glad smile. "She's brushing herhair there, by the wagon. "

Pan strode up to Lucy where she stood before the wagon, a mass ofgolden hair hanging down her back, to which she was vigorously applyinga brush. 

"Hello, Lucy, " he said coolly. 

"Oh--how you startled--me!" she exclaimed, turning with a blush. 

"Say, won't you help us out?" he went on, not so coolly. "The othernight, in the excitement we forgot to fetch Louise's clothes. .. . Factis, we grabbed her up out of a sick bed, with only a dressing gown anda blanket. Won't you lend her some clothes, shoes, stockings--and--everything?"

"Indeed I will, " responded Lucy and with alacrity she climbed into thecovered wagon. 

Pan waited, and presently began to pace to and fro. He was restless, eager, buoyant. He could not stand still. His thoughts whirled awayfrom the issue at hand, back to Lucy and the glory that had beenrestored to him. 

"Here, Pan, " called Lucy, reappearing with a large bundle. "Here's allshe'll need, I think. Lucky I bought some new things. Alice and I canget along with one mirror, brush and comb. "

"Thanks, " he said. "It was lucky. .. . Sure our luck has changed. "

"Don't forget some warm water, " added Lucy practically, calling afterhim. 

Thus burdened, Pan hurried back to Louise's wagon and deposited thebasin on the seat, and the bundle beside her. "There you are, pioneergirl, " he said cheerily, and with swift hands he let down the canvascurtains of the wagon, shutting her in. 

"Come on, Blink, " he called to the cowboy watching from behind thetrees. "Let's wrangle the teams. "

"Gus an' your dad are comin' in with them now, " replied Blinky joininghim and presently, when they got away from the wagon he whispered: "Howaboot it?"

"Blink, I swear it'll go through fine, " declared Pan earnestly. "Sheknows she's your wife--that I got her drunk and forced her into it. She doesn't remember. I'm hoping she'll not remember anything, buteven if she does I'll fix it. "

"Shore--you're Panhandle Smith--all right, " returned Blinky unsteadily. 

At this juncture they were called to breakfast. Pan needed only oneglance at his father, his mother and Lucy to gather that bewildermentand worry had vanished. They knew that he knew. It seemed to Pan thatthe bursting sun knew the dark world had been transformed to a shiningone. Yet he played with his happiness like a cat with a mouse. 

"Mrs. Smith, " begged Blinky presently, "please fix me up some breakfastfer Louise. She's better this mawnin' an' I reckon in a day or so willbe helpin' you an' Lucy. "

Pan set himself some camp tasks for the moment, and annoyed his motherand embarrassed Lucy by plunging into duties they considered theirs. 

"Mother, don't you and Lucy realize we are going to a far country?" hequeried. "We must rustle. .. . There's the open road. Ho forSiccane--for sunny Arizonaland!"

When he presented himself before Louise he scarcely recognized her inthe prim, comely change of apparel. The atmosphere of the Yellow Minehad vanished. She had managed to eat some breakfast. Blinkydiscreetly found a task that took him away. 

"We've a little time to talk now, Louie, " said Pan. "They'll bepacking the wagons. "

He led her under the cottonwoods to the pasture fence where he found aseat for her. 

"Pan, why did you do this thing?" she asked. 

That was the very question he had hoped she would put first. 

"Because my friend loves you and you told me you tried to keep him awayfrom you--that if you didn't you would like him too well, " answeredPan. "Blink had never been any good in the past. Just a wild recklesshard-drinking cowpuncher. But his heart was big. Then you were goingstraight to hell. You'd have been knifed or shot in some brawl, orhave killed yourself with drink. A few more months of the Yellow Minewould have been your end. .. . Well, I thought, here's an opportunity tomake a man out of my friend, and save the soul of a girl who hasn't hada chance. I never hesitated about taking advantage of you. That wasonly a means to an end. So I planned it and did it. "

"But, Pan--how impossible!" she replied brokenly. 

"Why, I'd like to know?"

"I am--degraded. "

"No! I've a different notion. You were _not_ when you were sober. But even so, _that_ is past. "

"Blink might have been what you said, but still I--I'm no fit wife forhim. "

"You _can_ be, " went on Pan with strong feeling. "Just blot out thepast. Begin now. Blink will make a good man, a successful rancher. He has money enough to start with. He'll never drink again. No matterwhat you call yourself, you're the only girl he ever loved. You're theonly one who can make him earnest. Blink saw as well as I the pity ofit--your miserable existence there in that gambling hell. "

"Pan, you talk--like--oh, you make me think of what might have been, "she cried. "But I'll not consent. I'll not give men the right topoint their fingers at Blink. .. . I'll run away--or--or kill myself. "

"Louie, that is silly talk, " censured Pan sharply. "Don't make meregret my interest in you--my affection. You are judging this thingwith your mind on the past. You're not considering the rough wild rawlife we cowboys have lived. We must make way for the pioneers andbecome pioneers ourselves. In fifty years, when the West is settled, who will ever recall such as you and Blinky? These are hard days. Youcan do as much for the future of the West as _any_ woman, LouiseMelliss!"

"Pan, I understand--I--I could--I know, if I dared to bury it all. ButI want to play square. "

"Could you come to love my friend--in time--I mean? That's the greatthing. "

"I believe I love him now, " she murmured. "That's why I _can't_ riskit. --Someone who knew me would turn up. To disgrace myhusband--and--and children, if I had any. "

"Not one chance in a million, " flashed Pan, feeling that she could notwithstand him. "We're going far--into another country. .. . Besides, everyone in Marco believes you lost your life in the fire. "

"What--fire?"

"The Yellow Mine burned. It must have caught--when we shot out thelamps . .. Dick Hardman was burned, and a girl they took for you. "

Suddenly Louise leaped up, ghastly pale. 

"I remember now. .. Blink came to my room, " she said hoarsely. "Iwouldn't let him in. Then you came. .. Oh, I remember now. I let youin when all the time Dick Hardman was hiding in my closet. "

"I knew you had him hidden, " rejoined Pan. 

"You meant to kill him! The yellow dog!. .. He came to me when I wassick in bed. He begged me to hide him. And I did. .. . Then you talkedto me, as you're talking now . .. Blink came with the whisky. Oh, Isee it all now!"

"Sure. And Louie--what did I tell you about Hardman?" returned Pan, sure of his ground now and stern in his forcefulness. 

"I don't remember. "

"You told me Hardman said he'd marry you, and that some day when youwere drunk you'd do it. "

"Yes, he said that, and I might have agreed, but I don't remembertelling you. "

"Well, you did. And then I told you Hardman had forced my sweetheart, Lucy, to marry him. "

"_What_? He did that?"

"Reckon he did. I got there too late. But I drove him off to get agun. Then he hid there with you. "

"So that was why?" she pondered, as if trying to penetrate thecloudiness of her mind. "Something comes like a horrible dream. "

"Sure, " he hurried on. "Let me get it over. .. . I told you he couldn'tmarry you when he already had a wife. You went crazy then. Youbetrayed Hardman. .. . He came rushing out of the closet. Pretty nasty, he was, Louie . .. Well, I left him lying in the hall! I grabbedyou--wrapped you in a blanket--and ran out. Blink was waiting. Heshot out the lights in the saloon. We got away. The place burned up, with some girl they took for you--and Hardman--"

"My God! Burned alive?"

"No, " replied Pan hoarsely. 

"Pan--you--you avenged me--and your Lucy--you?--" she whispered, clinging to him. 

"Hush! Don't speak it! Don't ever _think_ it again, " he said sternly. "That's our secret. Rumor has it he fled from me to hide with you, andyou were both burned up. "

"But Lucy--your mother!" she cried. 

"They know nothing except that you're my friend's wife--that you'vebeen ill, " he replied. "They're all kindness and sympathy. Dad neversaw you, and Gus will keep his mouth shut. Play your part now, Louise. You and Blink make up your past. Just a few simple statements. .. . Then bury the past forever. "

"Oh--I'm slipping--slipping--" she whispered, bursting into tears. "Help me--back to the wagon. "

She walked a few rods with Pan's arm supporting her. Then shecollapsed. He had to carry her to the wagon, where he deposited her, sobbing and limp behind the canvas curtains. Pan pitied her with allhis heart, yet he was glad indeed she had broken down. It had beeneasier than he had anticipated. 

Then he espied Blinky coming in manifest concern. 

"Pard, " said Pan in his ear, "you've a pat hand. Play it for allyou're worth. "

The wagons rolled down the long winding open road. 

For the shortest, fullest eight hours Pan had ever experienced hematched his wits against the wild horses that he and Gus had to drive. It was a down grade and the wagons rolled thirty miles before Panpicked a camp site in the mouth of a little grassy canyon where thewild horses could be corralled. Jack rabbits, deer, coyotes rangedaway from the noisy invasion of their solitude. It was wild country. Marco was distant forty miles up the sweeping ridges--far behind--goneinto the past. 

As the wagons rolled one by one up to the camping place. Pan observedthat Blinky, the last to arrive, had a companion on the driver's seatbeside him. Pan waved a glad hand. It was Louise who waved in return. Wind and sun had warmed the pallor out of her face. 

Four days on the way to Siccane! The wild horses were no longer wild. The travelers to the far country had become like one big family. Theyall had their tasks. Even Bobby sat on his father's knee and drove theteam down the open road toward the homestead where he was to grow intoa pioneer lad. 

So far Pan had carried on his pretense of aloofness from Lucy, apparently blind to the wondering appeal in her eyes. Long ago he hadforgiven her. Yet he waited, divining surely that some day or nightwhen an opportune moment came, she would voice the question in hereyes. He thought he could hold out longer than she could. 

That very evening when he went to fetch water she waylaid him, surprised him. 

"Panhandle Smith, you are _killing_ me!" she said, with great eyes ofaccusation. 

"How so?" he asked weakly. 

"You know, " she retorted. "And I won't stand it longer. "

"What is it you won't stand?" teased Pan. 

But suddenly Lucy broke down. "Don't. Don't keep it up, " she crieddesperately. "I know it was a terrible thing to do. But I told youwhy. .. . I _couldn't_ have gone away with him--after I'd seen you. "

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I was mad enough to think youmight--even care for him. "

"Pan, I love only you. All my life it's been only you. "

"Lucy!. .. Tomorrow we ride into Green River. Will you marry me there?"

"Yes--if you--love me, " she whispered, going close to him. 

Pan dropped both of the buckets, splashing water everywhere. 

Arizonaland!

It was not only a far country attained, but another, strange andbeautiful. Siccane lay a white and green dot far over the purple sage. The golden-walled mesas stood up, black fringed against the blue. Inthe bold notches burned the red of autumn foliage. Valleys spreadbetween the tablelands. There was room for a hundred homesteads. Pan's keen eye sighted only a few and they were farther on, greensquares in the gray. Down toward Siccane cattle made tiny specks onthe vast expanse. Square miles of bleached grass contended with thesurrounding slopes of sage, sweeping with slow graceful rise up to thebases of the walls and mesas. 

"Water! Grass! No fences!" exclaimed Pan's father, with a glad noteof renewed youth. 

"Dad. Lucy. Look, " replied Pan, pointing across the valley. "Seethat first big notch in the wall? Thick with bright green? There'swater. And see the open canyon with the cedars scattered? What aplace for a ranch! It has been waiting for us all these years . .. That's where we'll homestead. "

"Wal, pard, an' you, Louie--look over heah aways, " drawled Blinky, withlong arm outstretched. "See the red circle wall, with the brookshinin' down like a ribbon. Lookin' to the south! Warm inwinter--cool in summer. Shore's I was born in the West thet's thehomestead fer me. "

The wagons rolled on behind wild horses that needed little driving. Down the long winding open road across the valley! And so on into therich grass where no wheel track showed--on into the sage toward thelonely beckoning walls.