THE DESERT VALLEY

by

JACKSON GREGORY

Author of _The Bells of San Juan_, _Man to Man_

Hodder and Stoughton Limited LondonCharles Scribner's Sons

1921

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 THE DESERT I A BLUEBIRD'S FEATHER II SUPERSTITION POOL III PAYMENT IN RAW GOLD IV IN DESERT VALLEY V THE GOOD OLD SPORT VI THE YOUTHFUL HEART VII WAITING FOR MOONRISE VIII POKER AND THE SCIENTIFIC MIND IX HELEN KNEW X A WARNING AND A SIGN XI SEEKING XII THE DESERT SUPREME XIII A SON OF THE SOLITUDES XIV THE HATE OF THE HIDDEN PEOPLE XV THE GOLDEN SECRET XVI SANCHIA SCHEMES XVII HOWARD HOLDS THE GULCH XVIII A TOWN IS BORN XIX SANCHIA PERSISTENT XX TWO FRIENDS AND A GIRL XXI ALMOST XXII THE PROFESSOR DICTATES XXIII THE WILL-O'-THE-WISP XXIV THE SHADOW XXV IN THE OPEN XXVI WHEN DAY DAWNED

The Desert

Over many wide regions of the south-western desert country of Arizonaand New Mexico lies an eternal spell of silence and mystery. Acrossthe sand-ridges come many foreign things, both animate and inanimate, which are engulfed in its immensity, which frequently disappear for alltime from the sight of men, blotted out like a bird which flies freefrom a lighted room into the outside darkness. As though incompensation for that which it has taken, the desert from time to timeallows new marvels, riven from its vitals, to emerge. 

Though death-still, it has a voice which calls ceaselessly to thosehuman hearts tuned to its messages: hostile and harsh, it draws andurges; repellent, it profligately awards health and wealth; inviting, it kills. And always it keeps its own counsel; it is without peer inits lonesomeness, and without confidants; it heaps its sand over itssecrets to hide them from its flashing stars. 

You see the bobbing ears of a pack-animal and the dusty hat and stoopshoulders of a man. They are symbols of mystery. They rise brieflyagainst the skyline, they are gone into the grey distance. Somethingbeckons or something drives. They are lost to human sight, perhaps tohuman memory, like a couple of chips drifting out into the ocean. Patient time may witness their return; it is still likely that soonanother incarnation will have closed for man and beast, that they willhave left to mark their passing a few glisteningly white bones, polished untiringly by tiny sand-chisels in the grip of the desertwinds. They may find gold, but they may not come in time to water. The desert is equally conversant with the actions of men mad with goldand mad with thirst. 

To push out along into this immensity is to evince the heart of a braveman or the brain of a fool. The endeavour to traverse the forbiddengarden of silence implies on the part of the agent an adventurousnature. Hence it would seem no great task to catalogue those humanbeings who set their backs to the gentler world and press forward intothe naked embrace of this merciless land. Yet as many sorts andconditions come here each year as are to be found outside. 

Silence, ruthlessness, mystery--these are the attributes of the desert. True, it has its softer phases--veiled dawns and dusks, rainbow hues, moon and stars. But these are but tender blossoms from a spiked, poisonous stalk, like the flowers of the cactus. They are brief andevanescent; the iron parent is everlasting. 

Chapter I

A Bluebird's Feather

In the dusk a pack-horse crested a low-lying sand-ridge, put up itshead and sniffed, pushed forward eagerly, its nostrils twitching as itturned a little more toward the north, going straight toward thewater-hole. The pack was slipping as far to one side as it had listedto the other half an hour ago; in the restraining rope there were adozen intricate knots where one would have amply sufficed. The horsebroke into a trot, blazing its own trail through the mesquite; a parcelslipped; the slack rope grew slacker because of the subsequentreadjustment; half a dozen bundles dropped after the first. A voice, thin and irritable, shouted 'Whoa!' and the man in turn was brieflyoutlined against the pale sky as he scrambled up the ridge. He was alittle man and plainly weary; he walked as though his boots hurt him;he carried a wide, new hat in one hand; the skin was peeling from hisblistered face. From his other hand trailed a big handkerchief. Hewas perhaps fifty or sixty. He called 'Whoa!' again, and made whathaste he could after his horse. 

A moment later a second horse appeared against the sky, following theman, topping the ridge, passing on. In silhouette it appeared nonormal animal but some weird monstrosity, a misshapen body coveredeverywhere with odd wart-like excrescences. Close by, these uniquegrowths resolved themselves into at least a score of canteens andwater-bottles of many shapes and sizes, strung together with bits ofrope. Undoubtedly the hand which had tied the other knots hadconstructed these. This horse in turn sniffed and went forward with aquickened pace. 

Finally came the fourth figure of the procession. This was a girl. Like the man, she was booted; like him, she carried a broad hat in herhand. Here the similarity ended. She wore an outdoor costume, alittle thing appropriate enough for her environment. And yet it waspeculiarly appropriate to femininity. It disclosed the pleasing linesof a pretty figure. Her fatigue seemed less than the man's. Her youthwas pronounced, assertive. She alone of the four paused more than aninstant upon the slight eminence; she put back her head and looked upat the few stars that were shining; she listened to the hushed voice ofthe desert. She drew a scarf away from her neck and let the coolingair breathe upon her throat. The throat was round; no doubt it wassoft and white, and, like her whole small self, seductively feminine. 

Having communed with the night, the girl withdrew her gaze from the skyand hearkened to her companion. His voice, now remarkably eager andyoung for a man of his years, came to her clearly through the clumps ofbushes. 

'It is amazing, my dear! Positively. You never heard of such a thing. The horse, the tall, slender one, ran away, from me. I hastened inpursuit, calling to him to wait for me. It appeared that he had becomesuddenly refractory: they do that sometimes. I was going to reprimandhim; I thought that it might be necessary to chastise him, as sometimesa man must do to retain the mastery. But I stayed my hand. The animalhad not run away at all! He actually knew what he was doing. He camestraight here. And what do you think he discovered? What do youimagine brought him? You would never guess. '

'Water?' suggested the girl, coming on. 

Something of the man's excitement had gone from his voice when heanswered. He was like a child who has propounded a riddle that hasbeen too readily guessed. 

'How did you know?'

'I didn't know. But the horses must be thirsty. Of course they wouldgo straight to water. Animals can smell it, can't they?'

'Can they?' He looked to her inquiringly when she stood at his side. 'It is amazing, nevertheless. Positively, my dear, ' he added with atouch of dignity. 

The two horses, side by side, were drinking noisily from a smalldepression into which the water oozed slowly. The girl watched them amoment abstractedly, sighed and sat down in the sand, her hands in herlap. 

'Tired, Helen?' asked the man solicitously. 

'Aren't you?' she returned. 'It has been a hard day, papa. '

'I am afraid it has been hard on you, my dear, ' he admitted, as hiseyes took stock of the drooping figure. 'But, ' he added morecheerfully, 'we are getting somewhere, my girl; we are gettingsomewhere. '

'Are we?' she murmured to herself rather than for his ears. And whenhe demanded 'Eh?' she said hastily: 'Anyway, we are doing something. That is more fun than growing moss, even if we never succeed. '

'I tell you, ' he declared forensically, lifting his hand for a gesture, 'I know! Haven't I demonstrated the infallibility of my line ofaction? If a man wants to--to gather cherries, let him go to a cherrytree; if he seeks pearls, let him find out the favourite habitat of thepearl oyster; if he desires a--a hat, let him go to the hatter's. Itis the simplest thing in the world, though fools have woven mystery anddifficulty about it. Now----'

'Yes, pops. ' Helen sighed again and saw wisdom in rising to her feet. 'If you will begin unpacking I'll make our beds. And I'll get the firestarted. '

'We can dispense with the fire, ' he told her, setting to work with thefirst knot to come under his fingers. 'There is coffee in the thermosbottle and we can open a tin of potted chicken. '

'The fire makes it cosier, ' Helen said, beginning to gather twigs. Last night coyotes had howled fearsomely, and even dwellers of thecities know that the surest safeguard against a ravening beast is acamp-fire. For a little while the man strove with his tangled rope;she was lost to him through the mesquite. Suddenly she came runningback. 

'Papa, ' she whispered excitedly. 'There's some one already here. '

She led him a few paces and pointed, making him stoop to see. Underthe tangle of a thin brush patch he made out what she had seen. But ashort distance from the spot they had elected for their camp site was atiny fire blazing merrily. 

'Ahem, ' said Helen's father, shifting nervously and looking at hisdaughter as though for an explanation of this oddity. 'This ispeculiar. It has an air of--of----'

'Why, it is the most natural thing in the world, ' she said swiftly. 'Where would you expect to find a camp-fire if not near a spring?'

'Yes, yes, that part of it is all right, ' he admitted grudgingly. 'Butwhy does he hold back and thereby give one an impression of a desire onhis part for secrecy? Why does he not come forward and make himselfknown? I do not mean to alarm you, my dear, but this is not the way anhonest fellow-wayfarer should behave. Wait here for me; I shallinvestigate. ' Intrepidly he walked toward the fire. Helen kept closeto his side. 

'Hello!' he called, when they had taken a dozen steps. They paused andlistened. There was no reply, and Helen's fingers tightened on hisarm. Again he looked to her as though once more he asked theexplanation of her; the look hinted that upon occasion the fatherleaned on the daughter more than she on him. He called again. Hisvoice died away echoless, the silence seeming heavier than before. When one of the horses behind them, turning from the water, trod upon adry twig, both man and girl started. Then Helen laughed and wentforward again. 

Since the fire had not lighted itself, it merely bespoke the presenceof a man. Men had no terror to her. In the ripe fullness of hersomething less than twenty years she had encountered many of them. While with due modesty she admitted that there was much in the worldthat she did not know, she considered that she 'knew' men. 

The two pressed on together. Before they had gone far they weregreeted by the familiar and vaguely comforting odours of boiling coffeeand frying bacon. Still they saw no one. They pushed through the lastclump of bushes and stood by the fire. On the coals was the blackcoffee-pot. Cunningly placed upon two stones over a bed of coals wasthe frying-pan. Helen stooped instinctively and lifted it aside; thehalf-dozen slices of bacon were burned black. 

'Hello!' shouted the man a third time, for nothing in the world wasmore clear than that whoever had made the fire and begun his supperpreparations must be within call. But no answer came. Meantime thenight had deepened; there was no moon; the taller shrubs, aspiring totree proportions, made a tangle of shadow. 

'He has probably gone off to picket his horse, ' said Helen's father. 'Nothing could be more natural. '

Helen, more matter-of-fact and less given to theorizing, looked abouther curiously. She found a tin cup; there was no bed, no pack, noother sign to tell who their neighbour might be. Close by the spotwhere she had set down the frying-pan she noted a second spring. Through an open space in the stunted desert growth the trail came infrom the north. Glancing northward she saw for the first time theoutline of a low hill. She stepped quickly to her father's side andonce more laid her hand on his arm. 

'What is it?' he asked, his voice sharpening at her sudden grip. 

'It's--it's spooky out here, ' she said. 

He scoffed. 'That's a silly word. In a natural world there is noplace for the supernatural. ' He grew testy. 'Can I ever teach you, Helen, not to employ words utterly meaningless?'

But Helen was not to be shaken. 

'Just the same, it is spooky. I can feel it. Look there. ' Shepointed. 'There is a hill. There will be a little ring of hills. Inthe centre of the basin they make would be the pool. And you know whatwe heard about it before we left San Juan. This whole country isstrange, somehow. '

'Strange?' he queried challengingly. 'What do you mean?'

She had not relaxed her hand on his arm. Instead, her fingerstightened as she suddenly put her face forward and whispered defiantly:

'I mean _spooky_!'

'Helen, ' he expostulated, 'where did you get such ideas?'

'You heard the old Indian legends, ' she insisted, not more than halffrightened but conscious of an eerie influence of the still lonelinessand experiencing the first shiver of excitement as she stirred her ownfancy. 'Who knows but there is some foundation for them?'

He snorted his disdain and scholarly contempt. 

'Then, ' said Helen, resorting to argument, 'where did that fire comefrom? Who made it? Why has he disappeared like this?'

'Even you, ' said her father, quick as always to join issue where soundargument offered itself as a weapon, 'will hardly suppose that a spookeats bacon and drinks coffee, '

'The--the ghost, ' said Helen, with a humorous glance in her eyes, 'might have whisked him away by the hair of the head!'

He shook her hand off and strode forward impatiently. Again and againhe shouted 'Hello!' and 'Ho, there! Ho, I say!' There came no answer. The bacon was growing cold; the fire burning down. He turned aperplexed face towards Helen's eager one. 

'It is odd, ' he said irritably. He was not a man to relish beingbaffled. 

Helen had picked up something which she had found near the spring, andwas studying it intently. He came to her side to see what it was. Thething was a freshly-peeled willow wand, left upright where one end hadbeen thrust down into the soft earth. The other end had been split;into the cleft was thrust a single feather from a bluebird's wing. 

Helen's eyes looked unusually large and bright. She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder. 

'Some one was here just a minute ago, ' she cried softly. 'He wascamping for the night. Something frightened him away. It might havebeen the noise we made. Or--what do you think, papa?'

'I never attempt to solve a problem until the necessary data are givenme, ' he announced academically. 

'Or, ' went on Helen, at whose age one does not bother about suchtrifles as necessary data, 'he may not have run away at all. He may behiding in the bushes, listening to us. There are all kinds of peoplein the desert. Don't you remember how the sheriff came to San Juanjust before we left? He was looking for a man who had killed a minerfor his gold dust. '

'You must curb a proclivity for such fanciful trash. ' He cleared histhroat for the utterance. He put out his hand and Helen hastilyslipped her own into it. Silently they returned to their own campsite, the girl carrying in her free hand the wand tipped with thebluebird feather. Several times they paused and looked back. Therewas nothing but the glow of the dwindling fire and the sweep of sand, covered sparsely with ragged bushes. New stars flared out; the spiritof the night descended upon the desert. As the world seemed to drawfurther and further away from them, these two beings, strange to thevastness engulfing them, huddled closer together. They spoke little, always in lowered voices. Between words they were listening, awaitingthat which did not come. 

Chapter II

Superstition Pool

Physically tired as they were, the night was a restless one for bothHelen and her father. They ate their meal in silence for the mostpart, made their beds close together, picketed their horses near by andsaid their listless 'good nights' early. Each heard the other turn andfidget many times before both went to sleep. Helen saw how her father, with a fine assumption of careless habit, laid a big new revolver closeto his head. 

The girl dozed and woke when the pallid moon shone upon her face. Shelifted herself upon her elbow. The moonlight touched upon the willowstick she had thrust into the sand at her bedside; the feather wasupright and like a plume. She considered it gravely; it became thestarting-point of many romantic imaginings. Somehow it was a token; ofjust exactly what, to be sure, she could not decide. Not definitely, that is; it was always indisputable that the message of the bluebird isone of good fortune. 

A less vivid imagination than Helen's would have found a tang ofghostliness in the night. The crest of the ridge over which they hadcome through the dusk now showed silvery white; white also were somedead branches of desert growth--they looked like bones. Always throughthe intense silence stirred an indistinguishable breath like a shiver. Individual bushes assumed grotesque shapes; when she looked long andintently at one she began to fancy that it moved. She scoffed atherself, knowing that she was lending aid to tricking her own senses, yet her heart beat a wee bit faster. She gave her mind to largeconsiderations: those of infinity, as her eyes were lifted heavenwardand dwelt upon the brightest star; those of life and death, and all ofthe mystery of mysteries. She went to sleep struggling with theancient problem: 'Do the dead return? Are there, flowing about us, weird, supernatural influences as potent and intangible as electriccurrents?' In her sleep she continued her interesting investigations, but her dreaming vision explained the evening's problem by showing herthe camp-fire made, the bacon and coffee set thereon, by a very niceyoung man with splendid eyes. 

She stirred, smiled sleepily, and lay again without moving; after thefashion of one awakening she clung to the misty frontiers of a fadingdream-country. She breathed deeply, inhaling the freshness of the newdawn. Then suddenly her eyes flew open, and she sat up with a littlecry; a man who would have fitted well enough into any fancy-freemaiden's dreams was standing close to her side, looking down at her. Helen's hands flew to her hair. 

Plainly--she read that in the first flashing look--he was no lessastounded than she. At the moment he made a picture to fill the eyeand remain in the memory of a girl fresh from an Eastern City. Thetall, rangy form was garbed in the picturesque way of the country; shetook him in from the heels of the black boots with their silver spursto the top of his head with its amazingly wide black hat. He stoodagainst a sky rapidly filling to the warm glow of the morning. Hishorse, a rarely perfect creation even in the eyes of one who knewlittle of fine breeding in animals, stood just at its master's heels, with ears pricked forward curiously. 

Helen wondered swiftly if he intended to stand there until the sun cameup, just looking at her. Though it was scarcely more than a momentthat he stood thus, in Helen's confusion the time seemed much longer. She began to grow ill at ease; she felt a quick spurt of irritation. No doubt she looked a perfect fright, taken all unawares like this, andequally indisputably he was forming an extremely uncomplimentaryopinion of her. It required less than three seconds for Miss Helen todecide emphatically that the man was a horrible creature. 

But he did not look any such thing. He was healthy and brown andboyish. He had had a shave and haircut no longer ago than yesterdayand looked neat and clean. His mouth was quite as large as a man'sshould be and now was suddenly smiling. At the same instant his hatcame off in his big brown hand and a gleam of downright joyousnessshone in his eyes. 

'Impudent beast!' was Helen's quick thought. She had given her mindlast night a great deal less to matters of toilet than to mysticimaginings; it lay entirely in the field of absurd likelihood thatthere was a smear of black across her face. 

'My mistake, ' grinned the stranger. 'Guess I'll step out while thestepping's good and the road open. If there's one sure thing a manought to be shot for, it's stampeding in on another fellow's honeymoon. _Adios, señora_. '

'Honeymoon!' gasped Helen. 'The big fool. '

Her father wakened abruptly, sat up, grasping his big revolver in bothhands, and blinked about him; he, too, had had his dreams. In thenight-cap which he had purchased in San Juan, his wide, grave eyes andsun-blistered face turned up inquiringly; he was worthy of a secondglance as he sat prepared to defend himself and his daughter. Thestranger had just set the toe of his boot into the stirrup; in thisposture he remained, forgetful of his intention to mount, while hismare began to circle and he had to hop along to keep pace with her, hiseyes upon the startled occupant of the bed beyond Helen's. He had hadbarely more than time to note the evident discrepancy in ages whichnaturally should have started his mind down a new channel for theexplanation of the true relationship, when the revolver clutchedtightly in unaccustomed fingers went off with an unexpected roar. Dustspouted up a yard beyond the feet of the man who held it. The horseplunged, the stranger went up into the saddle like a flash, and the mandropped his gun to his blanket and muttered in the natural bewildermentof the moment:

'It--it went off by itself! The most amazing----'

The rider brought his prancing horse back and fought with his facialmuscles for gravity; the light in his eyes was utterly beyond hiscontrol. 

'I'd better be going off by myself somewhere, ' he remarked as gravelyas he could manage, 'if you're going to start shooting a man up justbecause he calls before breakfast. '

With a face grown a sick white, the man in bed looked helplessly fromthe stranger to his daughter and then to the gun. 

'I didn't do a thing to it, ' he began haltingly. 

'You won't do a thing to yourself one of these fine days. ' remarked thehorseman with evident relish, 'if you don't quit carrying that sort oflife-saver. Come over to the ranch and I'll swap you a hand-axe forit. '

Helen sniffed audibly and distastefully. Her first impression of thestranger had been more correct than are first impressions nine timesout of ten; he was as full of impudence as a city sparrow. She had satup 'looking like a fright'; her father had made himself ridiculous; thestranger was mirthfully concerned with the amusing possibilities ofboth of them. 

Suddenly the tall man, smitten by inspiration, slapped his thigh withone hand, while with the other he curbed rebellion in his mare andoffered the explosive wager:

'I'll bet a man a dollar I've got your number, friends. You areProfessor James Edward Longstreet and his little daughter Helen! Am Iright?'

'You are correct, sir, ' acknowledged the professor a trifle stiffly. His eye did not rise, but clung in a fascinated, faintly accusing wayto the gun which had betrayed him. 

The stranger nodded and then lifted his hat for the ceremony while hepresented himself. 

'Name of Howard, ' he announced breezily. 'Alan Howard of the old DiazRancho. Glad to know you both. '

'It is a pleasure, I am sure, Mr. Howard, ' said the professor. 'But, if you will pardon me, at this particular time of day----'

Alan Howard laughed his understanding. 

'I'll chase up to the pool and give Helen a drink of real water, ' hesaid lightly. 'Funny my mare's name should be Helen, too, isn't it?'This directly into a pair of eyes which the growing light showed to begrey and attractive, but just now hostile. 'Then, if you say the word, I'll romp back and take you up on a cup of coffee. And we'll talkthings over. '

He stooped forward in the saddle a fraction of an inch; his mare caughtthe familiar signal and leaped; they were gone, racing away across thesand which was flung up after them like spray. 

'Of all the fresh propositions!' gasped Helen. 

But she knew that he would not long delay his return, and so slippedquickly from under her blanket and hurried down to the water-hole tobathe her hands and face and set herself in order. Her flying fingersfound her little mirror; there wasn't any smudge on her face, afterall, and her hair wasn't so terribly unbecoming that way; tousled, tobe sure, but then, nice, curly hair can be tousled and still not makeone a perfect hag. It _was_ odd about his mare being named Helen. Hemust have thought the name pretty, for obviously he and his horse wereboth intimate and affectionate. 'Alan Howard. ' Here, too, was rathera nice name for a man met by chance out in the desert. She paused inthe act of brushing her hair. Was she to get an explanation of lastnight's puzzle? Was Mr. Howard the man who had lighted the other fire?

The professor's taciturnity was of a pronounced order this morning. Now and then as he made his own brief and customarily untidy toilet, heturned a look of accusation upon the big Colt lying on his bed. Beforedrawing on his boots he bestowed upon his toe a long glance ofaffection; the bullet that had passed within a very few inches of thisadjunct of his anatomy had emphasized a toe's importance. He had neverrealized how pleasant it was to have two big toes, all one's own andunmarred. By the time the foot had been coaxed and jammed down intohis new boot the professor's good humour was on the way to beingrestored; a man of one thought at the time, due to his long habit ofconcentration, his emotion was now one of a subdued rejoicing. Itneeded but the morning cup of coffee to set him beaming upon the world. 

Alan Howard's sudden call: 'Can I come in now, folks?' from across abrief space of sand and brush, found Professor Longstreet on his kneesfeeding twigs to a tiny blaze, and hastened Helen through the finaltouches of her dressing. Helen was humming softly to herself, her backto him, her mind obviously concentrated upon the bread she was slicing, when the stranger swung down from his saddle and came forward. Hestood a moment just behind her, looking at her with very evidentinterest in his eyes. 

'How do you like our part of the world?' he asked friendliwise. 

Helen ignored him briefly. Had Mr. Alan Howard been a bashful youngman of the type that reddens and twists its hat in big nervous handsand looks guilty in general. Miss Helen Longstreet would have beenswiftly all that was sweet and kind to him. Now, however, from somevague reason or clouded instinct, she was prepared to be as stiff asthe fanged stalk of a cactus. Having ignored him the proper length oftime, she replied coolly:

'Father and I are very much pleased with the desert country. But, mayI ask just why you speak of it as your part of the world rather thanours? Are we trespassing, pray?' The afterthought was accompanied byan upflashing look that was little less than outright challenge. 

'Trespassing? Lord, no, ' conceded Howard heartily. 'The land is wide, the trail open at both ends. But you know what I meant. '

Helen shrugged and laid aside the half-loaf. Since she gave him noanswer, Howard went on serenely:

'I mean a man sort of acquires a feeling of ownership in the place inwhich he has lived a long time. You and your father are Eastern, notWestern. If I came tramping into your neck of the woods--you see Icall it _yours_. Right enough, too, don't you think, professor?'

'In a way of speaking, yes, ' answered the professor. 'In another way, no. We have given up the old haunts and the old way of living. We arerather inclined, my dear young sir, to look upon this as our country, too. '

'Bully for you!' cried Howard warmly. 'You're sure welcome. ' His eyescame back from the father to rest upon the daughter's bronze tresses. 'Welcome as a water-hole in a hot land, ' he added emphatically. 

'Speaking of water-holes, ' suggested Longstreet, sitting back upon hisboot heels in a manner to suggest the favourite squatting position ofthe cowboys of whom he and his daughter had seen much during these lastfew weeks, 'was it you who made camp right over yonder?' He pointed. 

Helen looked up curiously for Howard's answer and thus met the eyes hehad not withdrawn from her. He smiled at her, a frank, open sort ofsmile, and thereafter turned to his questioner. 

'When?' he asked briefly. 

'Last night. Just before we came. '

'What makes you think some one made camp there?'

'There was a fire; bacon was frying, coffee boiling. '

'And you didn't step across to take a squint at your next-doorneighbour?'

'We did, ' said the professor. 'But he had gone, leaving his fireburning, his meal cooking. '

Howard's eyes travelled swiftly to Helen, then back to her father. 

'And he didn't come back?'

'He did not, ' said Longstreet. 'Otherwise I should not have asked ifyou were he. '

Even yet Howard gave no direct answer. Instead he turned his back andstrode away to the deserted camp site. Helen watched him through thebushes and noted how he made a quick but evidently thorough examinationof the spot. She saw him stoop, pick up frying-pan and cup, drop themand pass around the spring, his eyes on the ground. Abruptly he turnedaway and pushed through a clump of bushes, disappearing. In fiveminutes he returned, his face thoughtful. 

'What time did you get here?' he asked. And when he had his answer hepondered it a moment before he went on: 'The gent didn't leave hiscard. But he broke camp in a regular blue-blazes hurry; saddled hishorse over yonder and struck out the shortest way toward King Cañon. He went as if the devil himself and his one best bet in hell hounds wasrunning at his stirrups. '

'How do you know?' queried Longstreet's insatiable curiosity. 'Youdidn't see him?'

'You saw the fire and the things he left stewing, ' countered Howard. 'They spelled hurry, didn't they? Didn't they shout into your earsthat he was on the lively scamper for some otherwhere?'

'Not necessarily, ' maintained Longstreet eagerly. 'Reasoning fromthe scant evidence before us, a man would say that while the strangermay have left his camp to hurry on, he may on the other hand have justdodged back when he heard us coming and hidden somewhere close by. '

Again Howard pondered briefly. 

'There are other signs you did not see, ' he said in a moment. 'Thesoil where he had his horse staked out shows tracks, and they are thetracks of a horse going some from the first jump. Horse and man tookthe straightest trail and went ripping through a patch of mesquite thata man would generally go round. Then there's something else. Want tosee?'

They went with him, the professor with alacrity, Helen with a studiedpretence at indifference. By the spring where Helen had found thewillow rod and the bluebird feather, Howard stopped and pointed down. 

'There's a set of tracks for you, ' he announced triumphantly. 'Supposeyou spell 'em out, professor; what do you make of them?'

The professor studied them gravely. In the end he shook his head. 

'Coyote?' he suggested. 

Howard shook his head. 

'No coyote, ' he said with positiveness. 'That track shows a foot fourtimes as big as any coyote's that ever scratched fleas. Wolf? Maybe. It would be a whopper of a wolf at that. Look at the size of it, man!Why, the ugly brute would be big enough to scare my prize shorthornbull into taking out life insurance. And that isn't all. That's justthe front foot. Now look at the hind foot. Smaller, longer, andleaving a lighter imprint. All belonging to the same animal. ' Hescratched his head in frank bewilderment. 'It's a new one on me, ' heconfessed frankly. Then he chuckled. 'I'd bet a man that the gent wholeft on the hasty foot just got one squint at this little beastie andat that had all sorts of good reasons for streaking out. '

A big lizard went rustling through a pile of dead leaves and all threeof them started. Howard laughed. 

'We're right near Superstition Pool!' he informed them with suddenlyassumed gravity. 'Down in Poco Poco they tell some great tales aboutthe old Indian gods going man-hunting by moonlight. _Quién sabe_, huh?'

Professor Longstreet snorted. Helen cast a quick, interested look atthe stranger and one of near triumph upon her father. 

'I smell somebody's coffee boiling, ' said the cattleman abruptly. 'AmI invited in for a cup? Or shall I mosey on? Don't be bashful insaying I'm not wanted if I'm not. '

'Of course you are welcome, ' said Longstreet heartily. But Howardturned to Helen and waited for her to speak. 

'Of course. ' said Helen carelessly. 

Chapter III

Payment in Raw Gold

'You were merely speaking by way of jest, I take it, Mr. Howard, 'remarked Longstreet, after he had interestedly watched the rancher puta third and fourth heaping spoonful of sugar in his tin cup of coffee. 'I refer, you understand, to your hinting a moment ago at there beingany truth in the old Indian superstitions. I am not to suppose, am I, that you actually give any credence to tales of supernatural influencesmanifested hereabouts?'

Alan Howard stirred his coffee meditatively, and after so leisurely afashion that Longstreet began to fidget. The reply, when finally itcame, was sufficiently non-committal. 

'I said "_Quién sabe_?" to the question just now, ' he said, a twinklein the regard bestowed upon the scientist. 'They are two pretty goodlittle old words and fit in first-rate lots of times. '

'Spanish for "Who knows?" aren't they?'

Howard nodded. 'They used to be Spanish; I guess they're Mex by now. '

Longstreet frowned and returned to the issue. 

'If you were merely jesting, as I supposed----'

'But was I?' demanded Howard. 'What do I know about it? I know horsesand cows; that's my business. I know a thing or two about men, sincethat's my business at times, too; also something like half of thatabout half-breeds and mules; I meet up with them sometimes in the runof the day's work. You know something of what I think you callauriferous geology. But what does either of us know of the nightlycustom of dead Indians and Indian gods?'

Helen wondered with her father whether there were a vein of seriousnessin the man's thought. Howard squatted on his heels, from which he hadremoved his spurs; they were very high heels, but none the less heseemed comfortably at home rocking on them. Longstreet noted with hiskeen eyes, altered his own squatting position a fraction, and openedhis mouth for another question. But Howard forestalled him, sayingcasually:

'I have known queer things to happen here, within a few hundred yardsof this place. I haven't had time to go finding out the why of them;they didn't come into my day's work. I have listened to someinteresting yarns; truth or lies it didn't matter to me. They say thatghosts haunt the Pool just yonder. I have never seen a ghost; there'snothing in raising ghosts for market, and I'm the busiest man I knowtrying to chew a chunk that I have bitten off. They tell you down atSan Juan and in Poco Poco, and all the way up to Tecolote, that if youwill come here a certain moonlight night of the year and will watch thewater of the pool, you'll see a vision sent up by the gods of theUnderworld. They'll even tell you how a nice little old god by thename of Pookhonghoya appears now and then by night, hunting souls ofenemies--and running by the side of the biggest, strangest wolf thathuman eyes ever saw. '

Helen looked at him swiftly. He had added the last item almost as anafterthought. She imagined that he had embellished the old tale fromhis own recent experience, and, further, that Mr. Alan Howard wasmaking fun of them and was no adept in the science of fabrication. 

'They go further, ' Howard spun out his tale. 'Somewhere in the desertcountry to the north there is, I believe, a tribe of Hidden People thatthe white man has never seen. The interesting thing about them is thatthey are governed by a young and altogether maddeningly pretty goddesswho is white and whose name is Yahoya. When they come right down tothe matter of giving names, ' he added gravely, 'how is a man to go anyfurther than just say, "_Quién sabe_?"'

'That is stupid. ' said Longstreet irascibly. 'It's a man's chiefaffair in life to _know_. These absurd legends----'

'Don't you think, papa, ' said Helen coolly, 'that instead of taxing Mr. Howard's memory and--and imagination, it would be better if you askedhim about our way from here on?'

Howard chuckled. Professor Longstreet set aside his cup, cleared histhroat and agreed with his daughter. 

'I am prospecting, ' he announced, 'for gold. We are headed for what isknown as the Last Ridge country. I have a map here. '

He drew it from his pocket, neatly folded, and spread it out. It was amap such as is to be purchased for fifty cents at the store in SanJuan, showing the main roads, towns, waterholes and trails. With ablue pencil he had marked out the way they planned to go. Howard bentforward and took the paper. 

'We are going the same way, friend, ' he said as he looked up. 'What ismore, we are going over a trail I know by heart. There is a goodchance I can save you time and trouble by making it a party of three. Am I wanted?'

'It is extremely kind of you, ' said Longstreet appreciatively. 'Butyou are on horseback and we travel slowly. '

'I can spare the time, ' was the even rejoinder. 'And I'll be glad todo it. '

During the half-hour required to break camp and pack the two horses, Alan Howard gave signs of an interest which now and then mounted almostto high delight. He made no remark concerning the elaborate system ofwater-bottles and canteens, but his eyes brightened as he aided theprofessor in making them fast. When the procession was ready to starthe strode on ahead, leading his own horse and hiding from his newfriends the widening grin upon his face. 

The sun was up; already the still heat of the desert was in the air. Behind the tall rancher and his glossy mare came Professor Longstreetdriving his two pack animals. Just behind him, with much gravespeculation in her eyes, came Helen. A new man had swum allunexpectedly into her ken and she was busy cataloguing him. He lookedthe native in this environment, but for all that he was plainly a manof her own class. No illiteracy, no wild shy awkwardness marked hisdemeanour. He was as free and easy as the north wind; he might, afterall, be likeable. Certainly it was _courtois_ of him to set himself onfoot to be one of them. The mare looked gentle despite her high life;Helen wondered if Alan Howard had thought of offering her his mount?

They had come to the first of the low-lying hills. 

'Miss Longstreet, ' called Howard, stopping and turning, 'wouldn't youlike to swing up on Sanchia? She is dying to be ridden. '

The trail here was wide and clearly defined; hence Longstreet and histwo horses went by and Helen came up with Howard. Hers was the trickof level, searching eyes. She looked steadily at him as she saidevenly:

'So her name is Sanchia?'

For an instant the man did not appear to understand. Then suddenlyHelen was treated to the sight of the warm red seeping up under histan. And then he slapped his thigh and laughed; his laughter seemingunaffected and joyous. 

'Talk about getting absent-minded in my old age, ' he declared. 'Hername did use to be Sanchia; I changed it to Helen. Think of my slidingback to the old name. '

Helen's candid look did not shift for the moment that she paused. Thenshe went on by him, following her father, saying merely:

'Thank you, I'll walk. And if she were mine I'd keep the old name;Sanchia suits her exactly. '

But as she hurried on after her father she had time for reflection;plainly the easy-mannered Mr. Alan Howard had renamed his mare onlythis very morning; as plainly had he in the first place called herSanchia in honour of some other friend or chance acquaintance. Helenwondered vaguely who the original Sanchia was. To her imagination thename suggested a slim, big-eyed Mexican girl. She found time to wonderfurther how many times Mr. Howard had named his horse. 

They skirted a hill, dipped into the hollow which gave passagewaybetween this hill and its twin neighbour, mounted briefly, and withintwenty minutes came to the pool about which legends flocked. Fromtheir vantage point they looked down upon it. The sun searched it outalmost at the instant that their eyes caught the glint of it. Fed bymany hidden springs it was a still, smooth body of water in the bowl ofthe hills; it looked cool and deep and had its own air of mystery; inits ancient bosom it may have hidden bones or gold. Some devotee hadplanted a weeping willow here long ago; the great tree now flourishedand cast its reflection across its own fallen leaves. 

Helen's eyes dreamed and sought visions; the spot touched her with itsromance, and she, after the true style of youth, lent aid to the stillinfluences. Alan Howard, to whom this was scarcely other than aneveryday matter, turned naturally to the new and was content to watchthe girl. As for Longstreet, his regard was busied with the stones athis feet, and thereafter with a washout upon a hill-side where theformation of the hills themselves was laid bare to a scientific eye. 

'There's gold everywhere about here, ' he announced placidly. 'But notin the quantities I have promised you, Helen. We'll go on to the LastRidge country before we stop. '

Howard turned from the daughter to consider the father long andsearchingly, after the way of one man seeking another's measure. 

'As a rule I go kind of slow when it comes to cutting in on anotherfellow's play, ' he said bluntly. 'But I'm going to chip in now withthis: I know that Last Ridge country from horn to tail, and all thegold that's in it or has ever been in it wouldn't buy a drink of badwhisky in Poco Poco. '

The light of forensic battle leaped up bright and eager in Longstreet'seyes. But Howard saw it, and before the professor's unshakenpositiveness could pour itself forth in a forensic flood the ranchercut the whole matter short by saying crisply:

'I know. And it's up to you. I've shot my volley to give you theright slant and you can play out your string your own way. Right nowwe'd better be moseying on; the sun's climbing, partner. '

He passed by them, leading his mare toward a crease in the hills whichgave ready passage out of the bowl and again to the sweep of thedesert. Longstreet dropped in behind him, driving his two horses, while Helen stood a little alone by the pool, looking at it with eyeswhich still brooded. In her hatband was a bluebird feather; herfingers rose to it reminiscently. A faint, dying breeze just barelystirred the drooping branches of the willow; in one place the gracefulpendant leaves merged with their own reflections below, faintlyblurring them with the slightest of ripples. Here, in the sunlight, was a languid place of dreams; by mellow, magic moonlight what wonderif there came hither certain of the last remnants and relics of an oldsuperstitious people, seeking visions? And an old saw hath it, 'Whatye seek for ye shall find. '

Helen looked up; already Howard had passed out of sight; already herfather's two pack horses had followed the rancher's mare beyond thebrushy flank of the hill and Longstreet himself would be out of hersight in another moment. She turned a last look upon the still pondand hurried on. 

Now again, as upon yesterday and the day before, the desert seemedwithout limit about them. The hot sun mounted; the earth sweltered andbaked and blistered. Heat waves shimmered in the distances; thedistances themselves were withdrawn into the veil of ultimate distancesover which the blazing heat lay in what seemed palpable strata;crunching rock and gravel in the dry water-courses burned through thicksole-leather; burning particles of sand got into boots and irritatedthe skin; humans and horses toiled on, hour after hour, from earlylistlessness to weariness and, before noon, to parched misery. EvenHoward, who confessed that he was little used to walking, admitted thatthis sort of thing made no great hit with him. During the forenoon heagain offered his mount to Helen; when she sought to demur and hoped tobe persuaded, he suggested a compromise; they would take turns, she, her father and himself. By noon, when they camped for lunch and a twohours' rest, all three had ridden. 

Barely perceptibly the sweeps about them had altered during the lasthour before midday. Here and there were low hills dotted occasionallyby trees, covered with sparse dry grass. Here, said Howard, were theouter fringes of the grazing land; his cattle sometimes strayed as faras this. The spot chosen for nooning was a suspicion less breathlesslyhot; there was a sluggish spring ringed about with wiry green grass andshaded by a clump of mongrel trees. 

Helen ate little and then lay down and slept. Longstreet, his kneesgathered in his arms, his back to a tree, sat staring thoughtfullyacross the billowing country before them; Howard smoked a cigarette, stood a moment looking curiously down at the weary figure of the girl, and then strode off to the next shade for his own siesta. 

'Rode pretty well all night, ' he explained half apologetically toLongstreet as he went. 'And haven't walked this much since last time. '

Between two and three they started on again. It grew cooler;constantly as they went forward the earth showed growing signs offertility and, here and there, of moisture guarded and treasured undera shaggy coat of herbage. Within the first hour they glimpsed a numberof scattered cattle and mules; once Helen cried out at the discovery ofa small herd of deer browsing in a shaded draw. Then came a lowdivide; upon its crest was an outcropping of rock. Here Howard waiteduntil his two companions came up with him; from here he pointed, sweeping his arm widely from north to east and south of east. 

'The Last Ridge country, yonder, ' he said. 

They saw it against the north-eastern horizon. From the base of thehills on which they stood a broad valley spread out generously. Marking the valley's northern boundary some half-dozen miles away, thrown up against the sky like a bulwark, was a long broken ridge likea wall of cliff, an embankment stained the many colours of thesouth-west; red it looked in streaks and yellow and orange and evenlavender and pale elusive green. It swept in a broad, irregular curveabout the further level lands; it was carved and notched along itscrest into strange shapes, here thrusting upward in a singleneedle-like tower, there offering to the clear sky a growth like amonster toadstool, again notched into saw-tooth edges. 

'And here, ' said Howard, his voice eloquent of his pride of ownership, 'my valley lands. From Last Ridge to the hills across yonder, fromthose hills as far as you can see to the south, mile after mile of it, it's mine, by the Lord! That is, ' he amended with a slow smile underHelen's amazed eyes, 'when I get it all paid for! And there, ' hecontinued, pointing this time to something white showing through thegreen of a grove upon a meadow land far off toward the southern rim ofthe valley, 'there is home. You'll know the way; I'm only twelve orfifteen miles from the Ridge, and so, you see, we're next-doorneighbours. '

To Helen, as she gazed whither his finger led, came a strange, unaccustomed thrill. For the first time she felt the glory, and forgotthe discomfort, of the hot sun and the hot land. There was a man'shome; set apart from the world and yet sufficient unto itself; here wasa man's holding, one man's, and it was as big and wide as a king'sestate. She looked swiftly at the tall man at her side; it was his orwould be his. And he need not have told her; what she had read in thetimbre of his voice she saw written large in his eyes; they were brightwith the joy of possession. 

'Neighbours, folks, ' he was saying. 'So let's begin things inneighbourly style. Come on home with me now; stick over a day or soresting up. Then I'll send a wagon and a couple of the boys over tothe ridge with you and they'll lend you a hand at digging in for thelength of your stay. It's the sensible thing, ' he insistedargumentatively as he saw how Longstreet's gaze grew eager for theRidge. 'And I'd consider it an honour, a high honour. '

'You are extremely kind, sir, ' said Longstreet hesitatingly. 'But----'

'Come on, ' cut in Howard warmly, his hand on the older man's shoulder. 'Just as a favour to me, neighbour. Everything's plain out our way;nothing fancy. But I've got clean beds to sleep in and the kitchenstore-room's full and---- Why, man, I've even got a bathtub! Comeahead; be a sport and take a chance. '

Longstreet smiled; Helen watched him questioningly. Suddenly sherealized that she was a trifle curious about Alan Howard; bath andclean beds did tempt her weary body, and besides there would be acertain interest in looking in upon the stranger's establishment. Shewondered for the first time if there were a young Mrs. Howard awaitinghim?

'How about it, Helen?' asked her father. 'Shall we accept further ofthis gentleman's kindness?'

'If we were sure, ' hesitated Helen, 'that we would not be imposing----'

So it was settled, and Howard, highly pleased, led the way down intothe valley. Making the gradual descent their trail, well marked now bythe shod hoofs of horses, wound into a shady hollow. In the heart ofthis where there was a thin trickle of water Howard stopped abruptly. Helen, who was close to him, heard him mutter something under hisbreath and in a new tone of wrath. She looked at him wondering. Hestrode across the stream and stopped again; he stooped and she saw whathe had seen; he straightened up and she saw blazing anger in his eyes. 

Here, no longer ago than yesterday, a yearling beef had beenslaughtered; the carcass lay half hidden by the bushes. 

'Now who the hell did that for me?' cried out the man angrily. 'Lookhere; he's killed a beef for a couple of steaks. He's taken that andleft the rest for the buzzards. The low-down, hog-hearted son of ascurvy coyote. '

Helen held back, frightened at what she read in his face. Her fathercame up with her and demanded:

'What is it? What's wrong?'

'Some one has killed one of his cows, ' she whispered, catching hold ofhis arm. 'I believe he would kill the man who did it. '

Howard was looking about him for signs to tell whence the marauder hadcome, whither gone. He picked up a fresh rib bone, that had beenhacked from its place with a heavy knife and then gnawed and broken asby a wolf's savage teeth. He noted something else; he went to ithurriedly. Upon a conspicuous rock, held in place by a smaller stone, was a small rawhide pouch. It was heavy in his palm; he opened it andpoured its contents into his palm. And these contents he showed toLongstreet and Helen, looking at them wonderingly. 

'The gent took what he wanted, but he paid for it, ' he said slowly, 'inenough raw gold to buy half a dozen young beeves! That's fair enough, isn't it? The chances are he was in a hurry. '

'Maybe, ' suggested Helen quickly, 'he was the same man whose camp firewe found. _He_ was in a hurry. '

Howard pondered but finally shook his head. 'No; that man had baconand coffee to leave behind him. It was some other jasper. '

Longstreet was absorbed in another interest. He took the unminted goldinto his own hands, fingering it and studying it. 

'It is around here everywhere, my dear, ' he told Helen with his oldplacid assurance. 'It is quite as I have said; if you want fish, lookfor them in the sea; if you seek gold, not in insignificant quantities, but in a great, thick, rich ledge, come out toward the Last Ridgecountry. '

He returned the raw metal to Howard, who dropped it into its bag andthe bag into his pocket. Silent now as each one found company in hisown thoughts, they moved down the slope and into the valley. 

Chapter IV

In Desert Valley

The world is an abiding-place of glory. He who cannot see it dyed andsteeped in colourful hues owes it to his own happiness to gird up hisloins and move on into another of the splendid chambers of the vasthouse God has given us; if the daily view before him no longer offersdelight, it is merely and simply because his eyes have grown accustomedto what lies just before them and are wearied with it. For, after all, one but requires a complete change of environment to quicken eye andinterest, to fill again the world with colour. Thus, put the man ofthe sea in the heart of the mountains and he stares about him at athousand little things which pass unnoted under the calm eyes of themountaineer. Or take up the dweller of the heights and set him aboarda wind-jammer bucking around the Horn and he will marvel at a sailor'ssong or the wide arc of a dizzy mast. So Helen Longstreet now, liftedfrom a college city of the East and set down upon the level floor ofthe West; so, in the less nervous way of greater years, her father. 

The three were full two hours in walking from the base of the hills toHoward's ranch headquarters. Continuously the girl found freshinterests leaping into her quick consciousness. They waded knee-deepin lush grass of a meadow into which Howard had brought water from thehills; among the grass were strange flowers, red and yellow and blue, rising on tall stalks to lift their heads to the golden sun. From thegrass rose birds, startled by their approach, one whirring awayvoicelessly from a hidden nest, another, a yellow and black-throatedlark, singing joyously. They crossed the meadow and came up theswelling slope of a gentle hill; upon its flatfish top were oaks; inthe shade of the oaks three black-and-white cows looked with mild, approving eyes upon their three tiny black-and-white calves. With thepictured memory unfading, Helen's eyes were momentarily held by aneagle balancing against the sky; the great bird, as though he wereconscious that he held briefly centre stage, folded his wings anddropped like a falling stone; a ground squirrel shrilled its terrorthrough the still afternoon and went racing with jerking tail towardsafety; the great bird saw the frantic animal scuttle down a hole andunfolded its wings; again it balanced briefly, close to the ground;then in a wide spiral reascended the sky. 

Came then wide fields with cattle browsing and drowsing; it was thefirst time Helen had harkened to a bellowing bull, the first time shehad seen one of his breed with bent head pawing up grass and earth andflinging them over the straight line of his perfect back; she sensedhis lusty challenge and listened breathlessly to the answering trumpetcall from a distant, hidden corral. She saw a herd of young horses, twenty of them perhaps, racing wildly with flying manes and tails andflaring nostrils; a strangely garbed man on horseback raced after them, shot by them, heading them off, a wide loop of rope hissing above hishead. She saw the rope leap out, seeming to the last alive and endowedwith the will of the horseman; she heard the man laugh softly as thenoose tightened about the slender neck of one of the fleeing horses. 

'That's Gaucho, ' said Howard. 'He's my horse breaker. '

But already the girl's interests had winged another way. Within tensteps they had come to a new view from a new vantage point. From sometrick of sweep and slope the valley seemed more spacious than before;through a natural avenue in an oak grove they saw distinctly the stilldistant walls of the ranch house; the sun touched them and they gleamedback a spotless white. Helen was all eagerness to come to the mainbuilding; from afar, here of late having seen others of its type, sheknew that it would be adobe and massive, old and cloaked with theromance of another time; that even doors and windows, let into thethick walls, would be of another period; that somewhere there would bea trellis with a sprawling grape-vine over it; that no doubt in theyard or along the fence would be the yellow Spanish roses. 

Below the house they came to the stable. Here Howard paused to tie thethree horses, but not to unpack or unsaddle. 

'I haven't anybody just hanging around to do things like this for me, 'he said lightly as he rejoined his guests. 'Not until I get the wholething paid off. What men I've got are jumping on the job from sun-upto dark. I'll turn you loose in the house and then look after thestock myself. '

They passed several smaller outbuildings, some squat andancient-looking adobes, others newer frame buildings, all neatlywhitewashed. And then the home itself. Quite as Helen hadprovisioned, there was a low wooden fence about the garden; over thegateway were tangled rose vines disputing possession with a gnarledgrape; the walk from the gate was outlined with the protruding ends ofwhite earthen bottles, so in vogue in the southland a few years ago; awide, coolly-dark veranda ran the length of the building; throughthree-feet-thick walls the doorways invited to further coolness. Howard stood aside for them to enter. They found underfoot a barefloor; it had been sprinkled from a watering pot earlier in theafternoon. The room was big and dusky; a few rawhide-bottomed chairs, a long rough table painted moss-green, some shelves with books, furnished the apartment. At one end was a fireplace. 

Howard tossed his hat to the table and opened a door at one end of theroom. Before them was a hallway; a few steps down were two doors, oneon each hand, heavy old doors of thick slabs of oak, hand-hewn and withrough iron bands across them, top and bottom, the big nail headsshowing. Howard threw one open, then the other. 

'Your rooms, ' he said. 'Yours, Miss Helen, opens upon the bath. You'll have to go down the hall to wash, professor. Make yourselvesfree with the whole house. I'll feed the horses and be with you inthree shakes. '

Before his boot heels had done echoing through the living-room it wasan adventure to Helen to peep into her room. She wondered what she wasgoing to find. Thus far she had had no evidence of a woman upon theranch. She knew the sort of housekeeper her father had demonstratedhimself upon occasions when she had been away visiting; she fullycounted upon seeing the traces of a man's hand here. But she wasdelightfully surprised. There was a big, old-fashioned walnut bedneatly made, covered in smooth whiteness by an ironed spread. Therewas a washstand with white pitcher like a ptarmigan in the white nestof a bowl, several towels with red bands towards their ends flankingit. There was a little rocking-chair, a table with some books. Thewindow, because of the thickness of the wall, offered an inviting seatwhence one could look into the tangle of roses of the _patio_. 

'It is like a dream, ' cried Helen. 'A dream come true. '

She glanced into her father's room. It was like hers in its neatnessand appointments, but did not have her charming outlook. She wasturning again into her own room when she heard Howard's voice outside. 

'Angela, ' he was calling, 'I have brought home friends. You will seethat they have everything. There is a young lady. I am going to thestable. '

She heard Angela's mumbled answer. So there was, after all, at leastone woman at the ranch. Helen awaited her expectantly, wondering whoand what she might be. Then through her window she saw Angela comeshuffling into the _patio_. She was an old woman, Mexican or Indian, her hair grey and black in streaks, her body bent over her thumpingstick and wrapped in a heavy shawl. Never had Helen seen suchnight-black, fathomless, inscrutable eyes; never had she looked upon aface so creased and lined or skin so like dry, wrinkled parchment. 

Angela pounded across the floor looking like a witch with her greatstick, and waved a bony hand to indicate the bathroom. Catching herfirst glimpse of Longstreet, who came to his daughter's door, shedemanded:

'Your papa?'

'Yes, ' Helen answered her. 

'You frien's Señor Alan?' And when Helen, hesitating briefly, said'Yes, ' Angela asked:

'You come from Santa Rita, _no_?'

'No, ' said Helen. 'From San Juan and beyond. '

'You come far, ' mumbled Angela. She scrutinized the girl keenly. Thenabruptly, 'Senor Alan got _muchos amigos_ to-day. Senor Juan Carrcomes; El Joven with him. '

Helen asked politely who these two were Juan Carr and El Joven. Butthe old woman merely shook her head and relapsed into silence franklystudying her. The girl was glad of the interruption when Howard rappedat the door. His arms were full of bundles. 

'I've brought everything I could find that looked like your and yourfather's personal traps, ' he informed her as he came in and put thethings down on the floor. 'I looked in at the kitchen and figure itout we've got about twenty or thirty minutes before dinner. Come on, Angela; give Miss Longstreet a chance to get ready. '

Angela transferred her scrutiny to him; Howard laughed at hergood-humouredly, laid his hand gently on her shrunken shoulder and sideby side they went out. 

Helen went singing into her bath, her weary body rested by the thoughtof coolness and cleanliness and a change of clothing. Little enoughdid she have in the way of clothing, especially for an evening when shewas to meet still other strangers. But certain feminine trinkets hadcome with her journeying across the desert, and a freshly launderedwash dress and a bit of bright ribbon work wonders. When she heardvoices in the _patio_, that of Alan Howard and of another man, this asonorous bass, she was ready. She went to her father's door;Longstreet was in the final stages of his own toilet-making, his facered and shiny from his towelling, his sparse hair on end, his wholebeing in that condition of bewildering untidiness which comes justbefore the ultimate desired orderliness quite as the thick darknessbefore the dawn. In this case the rose fingers of Aurora were Helen'sown, patting, pulling and readjusting. Within three minutes sheslipped her hand through the arm of a quiet scholarly looking gentlemanand together they paced sedately into the _patio_. 

Howard jumped up from a bench and dragged forward his friend John Carr, introducing him to his new friends. And in employing the word friendand repeating it, he spoke it as though he meant it. Here was acharacteristic of the man; he was ready from dawn until dark to put outhis big square hand to the world and bring the world home to his homefor supper and bed and all that both connote. 

But Helen's interest, at least for the flitting moment, was less forhim than for his friend; Howard she had known since dawn, hence hershad been ample time to assign him his proper place in her humancatalogue. Now she turned her level eyes upon the new man. Immediately she knew that if Alan Howard were an interesting type, thenno less so, though in his own way, was John Carr. A bigger man, thoughnot so tall; an older man by something like half a dozen years, butstill young in the eyes and about the clean-shaven mouth; a man withclear, unwinking bluish-grey eyes and a fine head carried erect upon amassive brown throat. Carr was dressed well in a loose serge suit; hewore high-topped tan boots; his soft shirt was of good silk; hispersonality exuded both means and importance. He glanced at Longstreetand looked twice or three times as long at Longstreet's daughter. Helen was quite used to that, and it was for no particular reason thatshe felt her colour heighten a little. She slipped her hand throughher father's arm again and they went in to supper. Howard, havingindicated the way, clapped Carr upon the thick shoulders and the twofriends brought up the rear. 

Helen was still wondering where was the second guest; Angela haddistinctly mentioned Juan Carr and another she termed El Joven. Yet asthey passed from the _patio_ into the big cool dining-room with itswhite cloth and plain service and stiff chairs, she saw no one here. Nor did she find any answer in the number of places set, but rather aconfused wonder; the table was the length of the long room, and, atleast in so far as number of plates went, suggested a banquet. 

Howard drew out chairs at one end of the table so that the four sattogether. 

'The boys will be rolling in for supper in half an hour, ' he explained. 'But you folks are hungry and will want to get to bed early, so we arenot waiting for them. '

The 'boys' were, supposedly, the men he had working for him; there mustbe close to a score of them. And they all ate at one table, master andmen and guests when he had them. 

'Who is El Joven?' asked Helen. 

Howard looked puzzled; then his face cleared. 

'Angela told you El Joven was here, too?' And to Carr: 'He came withyou, John?'

Carr nodded. Howard then answered Helen. 

'That's Angela's pet name for him; it means The Youngster. It isBarbee, Yellow Barbee the boys call him. He's one of John's men. Theysay he's a regular devil-of-a-fellow with the ladies, Miss Helen. Lookout he doesn't break your heart. '

Angela peered in from the kitchen and withdrew. They heard herguttural utterance, and thereafter a young Indian boy, black of eyes, slick of plastered hair and snow-white of apron, came in bringing thesoup. Howard nodded at him, saying a pleasant '_Qué hay, Juanito_?'The boy uncovered the rare whiteness of his splendid teeth in a quicksmile. He began placing the soup. Helen looked at him; he blushed andwithdrew hastily to the kitchen. 

Throughout the meal the four talked unconstrainedly; it was as thoughthey had known one another for a dozen years and intimately. Longstreet, having pushed aside his soup plate, engaged his host in anardent discussion of the undeveloped possibilities of the Last Ridgecountry; true, he had never set foot upon it, but he knew the last wordof this land's formation and geological construction, its life historyas it were. All of his life, he admitted freely, he had been a man ofscholarship and theory; the simplest thing imaginable, he held blandly, was the demonstration of the correctness of his theories. MeantimeHelen talked brightly with John Carr and listened to Carr's voice. 

And a voice well worth listening to it was. Its depth was at onceremarkable and pleasing. At first one hearkened to the music of therich tone itself rather than to the man's words, just as one may thrillto the profound cadences of a deep voice singing without heeding thewords of the song. But presently she found herself giving her raptattention to Carr's remarks. Here again was one of her own class, aman of quiet assurance and culture and distinction; he knew Boston andhe knew the desert. For the first time since her father had draggedher across the continent on his hopelessly mad escapade, Helen feltthat after all the East was not entirely remote from the West. Menlike Howard and his friend John Carr, types she had never looked tofind here, linked East and West. 

Juanito, with lowered, bashful eyes, brought coffee, ripe olives fromthe can, potato salad, and thick, hot steaks. Soon thereafter the boysbegan to straggle in. Helen heard them at the gate, noisy and eager;for them the supper hour was diurnally a time of a joyous lift ofspirit. They clattered along the porch like a crowd of schoolboys justdismissed; they washed outside by the kitchen door with much splashing;they plastered their hair with the common combs and brushes and enteredthe shortest way, by the kitchen. They called to each other back andforth; there was the sound of a tremendous clap as some big open handfell resoundingly upon some tempting back and a roar from the strickenand a gale of booming laughter from the smiter and the scuffle of bootsand the crashing of two big bodies falling. Then they came trooping inuntil fifteen or twenty had entered. 

One by one Howard introduced them. Plainly none of them knew ofHelen's presence; all of their eyes showed that. Among them were somefew who grew abashed; for the most part they ducked their heads inacknowledgment and said stiffly, 'Pleased to meet you, ' in woodenmanner to both Longstreet and his daughter. But their noisinessdeparted from them and they sat down and ate in business-like style. 

Never had Helen sat down with so rough a crowd. They were in shirtsleeves; some wore leathern wrist guards; their vests were open, theirshirts dingy, they were unshaven and their hair grew long and ragged;they brought with them a smell of horses. There was one man among themwho must have been sixty at the least, a wiry, stoop, white-haired, white-moustached Mexican. There were boys between seventeen andnineteen. There were Americans; at least one Swede; a Scotchman;several who might have been any sort of mixture of southern bloods. And among them all Helen knew at once, upon the instant that heswaggered in, El Joven, Yellow Barbee. 

The two names fitted him as his two gloves may fit a man's hands; amongthe young he was The Youngster, as among blondes he was Yellow Barbee. His dress was extravagantly youthful; his boots bore the tallest heels, he was full-panoplied as to ornate wristbands and belt and chaps asthough in full holiday attire; one might wager on the fact of his haton a nail outside being the tallest crowned, the widest brimmed. Hisface was like a girl's for its smoothness and its prettiness; his eyeswere like blue flowers of sweet innocence; on his forehead his hair wasa cluster of little yellow ringlets. And yet he managed full well toconvey the impression that he was less innocent than insolent, asomewhat true impression; for from high heels to finger-tips he was adownright, simon-pure rascal. 

Yellow Barbee's eyes fairly invaded Helen's as he jerked her his bow. They were two youngsters, and in at least, and perhaps in at most, onematter they were alike: she prided herself that she 'knew' men, and toBarbee all women were an open, oft-read book. 

Plainly Barbee was something of a favourite here; further, being avisitor, he was potentially of interest to the men who had not been offthe ranch for matters of weeks and months. When Alan Howard and theprofessor picked up their conversation, and again Helen found herselfmonopolized by John Carr, from here and there about the table camepointed remarks to Yellow Barbee. Helen, though she listened to Carrand was never unconscious of her father and Howard, understood, afterthe strange fashion of women, all that was being said about her. Earlyshe gathered that there was, somewhere in the world, a dashing youngwoman styled the 'Widow. ' Further, she had the quick eyes to see thatBarbee blushed when an old cattle-man with a roguish eye cleared histhroat and made aloud some remark about Mrs. Murray. Yes; Barbee theinsolent, the swaggering, the worldly-wise and conceited Barbee, actually blushed. 

Though the hour was late it was not yet dark when the meal was done. Somehow Howard was at Helen's side when they went to the living-roomand out to the front porch; Carr started with them, hesitated and heldback, finally stepping over for a word with an old Mexican. Helennoted that Barbee had moved around the table and was talking with herfather. As she and Howard found chairs on the porch, Longstreet andBarbee passed them and went out, talking together. 

Chapter V

The Good Old Sport

The Longstreets remained several days upon Desert Valley Ranch, as thewide holding had been known for half a century. Also John Carr and hisyoung retainer, Yellow Barbee, prolonged their stay. It appeared thatCarr had come over from some vague place still further toward the eastupon some matter of business connected with the sale of this broadacreage; Carr had owned the outfit and managed it personally for adozen years, and now was selling to Alan Howard. It further devolvedthat Barbee had long been one of Carr's best horsemen, hence afavourite of Carr, who loved good horses, and that he had accompaniedhis employer merely to help drive over to the ranch a small herd ofcolts which had been included in the sale but had not until now beendelivered. Carr was a great deal with Howard, and Howard managed tosee a great deal of the Longstreets; as for Barbee, Helen met hisinsolent young eyes only at mealtimes. 

'My business is over, ' Carr confessed to Helen in the _patio_ the nextmorning. 'There's no red tape and legal nonsense between Al and me. To sell a ranch like this, when you know the other chap, is likeselling a horse. But, ' and his eyes roved from his cigar to a glimpsethrough an open door of wide rolling meadows and grazing stock, 'Iguess I'm sort of homesick for it. If it was to do over I don't knowthat I'd sell it this morning. '

Helen had rested well last night; this morning she had thrilled anew tothe world about her. She thought that she had never seen such asunrise; the day appeared almost to come leaping and shouting up out ofthe desert; the air of the morning, before the heat came, was nothingless than glorious. Her eyes were bright; there was the flush ofjoyousness in her cheeks. 

'How a man could own this, ' she said slowly, 'and then could sellit----' She shook her head and looked at him half wonderingly. 'Idon't see how you could do it. '

'You feel that way about it, too?' He brought his eyes back soberly tohis cigar. 

Howard, whose swinging stride Helen had learned to know already, cameout from the living-room, hat in hand, carrying a pair of spurs he hadbeen tinkering with. 

'What are you talking about?' he laughed. 'Somebody dead?'

'Miss Longstreet was saying, ' Carr said quietly, his eyes still grave, 'that she couldn't understand a man selling an outfit like this, oncehe had called it his own. '

'Good for you, Miss Helen, ' cried Howard heartily. 'I am with you onthat. John, there, must have been out of his senses when he let metalk him out of Desert Valley. '

'I don't know but that I was, ' said Carr. 

Howard looked at him swiftly, and swiftly the light in his eyesaltered. For Carr had spoken thoughtfully and soberly, and there wasno hint of jest in the man. 

'You don't mean, John, ' said Alan, a trifle uncertainly, 'that you aresorry you let go? That you are not satisfied----'

Carr appeared to be considering the matter as though it were enwrappedin his cigar. He took ample time in replying, so much time, in fact, that Helen found herself growing impatient for his reply. 

'Suppose I were sorry?' he said finally. 'Suppose I were notsatisfied? Then what? The deal is made, and a bargain, old-timer, isa bargain. '

Now it was Howard's turn for silence and sober eyes. He lookedintently into his friend's face; then with a lingering affection acrosshis broad lands. 

'Not between friends, ' he said. 'Not between friends like you and me, John. I've hardly got my hooks into it; you had it long enough for itto get to be a part of you. If you made a mistake in selling, if youknow it now----' He shrugged and smiled. 'Why, of course it doesn'tmean as much to me as to you, and anyway, it's yours until I get all mypayments made, and if you say the word----'

'Well?' asked Carr steadily. 

'Why, ' cried Howard, 'we'll frame a new deal this very minute and youcan take it over again!'

'You'd do that for me, Al?'

'You're damned well right, I would!' cried Howard heartily. And Helenunderstood that for the moment at least he had forgotten that she waspresent. 

A slow smile came into Carr's eyes. 

'That's square shooting, Long Boy. '--he spoke more impetuously thanHelen had thought the man could--'but I never went back on a play yet, did I? I'm just sort of homesick for the old place, that's all. Forget it. ' He slapped Howard upon the shoulder, the two friends' eyesmet for a moment of utter understanding and he went on down to thestable, calling back, 'I'm going to take the best horse you'vegot--that would be Bel and no other--and ride. So long. '

'So long, ' answered Howard. 

Carr gone from sight, Howard stood musing a moment, unconscious ofHelen's wondering eyes upon him. Then he turned to her and beganspeaking of his friend: big and generous and manly was Carr; a man totie to, and, though he did not say it in so many words, a man to diefor. He explained how Carr had taken the old Diaz ranch that had beenSpanish and then Mexican in its time and had made it over into what itwas, the greatest stock run north of the Rio Grande and west of theMississippi. Helen's interest was ready and sympathetic, and Howardpassed from one point to another until he had sketched the way in whichthe ranch had been sold to him. And the girl, though she knew littleenough about business methods, was startled to learn how these two mentrusted each other. She recalled what Carr had said; between him andHoward a deal involving many thousands of dollars was as simple amatter as the sale of a horse. The two, riding together, had in a fewwords agreed upon price and terms. They had returned to the house andHoward had written a cheque for seven thousand dollars as firstpayment; all of his ready cash, he admitted freely, saving what he mustkeep on hand for ranch manipulation. There was no deed given, no deedof trust, no mortgage. It was understood that Howard should paycertain sums at certain specified dates; each man had jotted down hismemoranda in his own hand; the deal was made. 

'But, ' gasped Helen, 'if anything unforeseen should happen? If--if heshould die? Or you? If----'

'In any case there would be one of us left, wouldn't there?' hecountered in his off-hand way. 'Unless we both went out, and then whatdifference? He has no one to look out for; neither have I. Besides, 'he laughed carelessly, 'John and I both plan on being on the job a goodfifty years from now. Come out here and I'll show you a real horse. '

She went with him to the porch. Carr was leaving the stable, ridingBel. Helen knew little enough of horseflesh and yet she understoodthat here was an animal to catch anyone's eye; yes, and Carr, sittingmassive and stalwart in the saddle, was a man to hold any woman's. Thehorse was a big, bright bay; mane and tail were like fine gold; the sunwinked back from them and from the glorious reddish hide. Carr sawthem and waved his hat; Bel danced sideways and whirled, and for aninstant stood upon his rear legs, his thin, aristocratic forelegsflaying the air. Then came Carr's deep bass laugh; the polished hoofsstruck the ground and they were off, flashing away across themeadowlands. 

'Some day, ' said Helen, her eyes sparkling, 'I want to ride a horselike that!' She turned to him, asking eagerly, 'Could I learn?'

'If with all my heart I wanted to be a first-rate Philadelphia lawyeror a third-rate San Francisco politician, ' he announced with thatsweeping positiveness which was one of his characteristics, 'I'dconsider the job done to start with! All you've got to do is to want athing, want it hard, and it's as good as yours. Now, to begin with, you love a horse. The rest is easy. '

Helen saw her father, accompanied by young Barbee, emerge from behindthe stable, and sighed. 

'I don't believe you know what failure means, ' she said. 

'There isn't any such bird, ' he laughed at her. 

'Not really. '

'Then, ' her eyes still upon the pair talking together by the stabledoor, 'dear old dad should find his gold-mine. He wants it with allhis heart, Heaven knows. And he has the faith that is supposed to movemountains. '

Howard scratched his head. Within the few hours he had come to likethe old professor, for Longstreet, though academic, was astraight-from-the-shoulder type of man, one of no subterfuges. And yethe did not greatly inspire confidence; he was not the type thatbreathes efficiency. 

'Tell me about him, ' Howard urged. 'What makes him so dead certain hecan nail his Golconda out here? I take it he has never been out thisway before, and that he doesn't know a whole lot of our part of thecountry. '

Confidence inspires confidence. Howard had hardly finished sketchingfor her his own plans and hopes; he had gone succinctly and openly intodetail concerning his deal with John Carr. Now Helen, glad to talkwith some one, answered in kind. 

'The University elected a young president, a New Broom, ' she saidbitterly. 'He is a man of more ambition than brains. His slogan is"Young Men. " He ousted father together with a dozen other men of hisage. I thought father's heart would be broken; he had devoted all ofthe years of his life, all of his best work, to his University. Butinstead he was simply enraged! Can you imagine him in a perfectlytowering rage?'

Howard grinned. 'Go ahead, ' he chuckled. 'He's a good old sport and Ilike him. '

'Well, ' said Helen, without meeting his smile, 'father and I went intobusiness session right away. We had never had much money; father hadnever cared for wealth measured in money; had always been richlycontent with his professor's salary; had never saved or asked me tosave. When the thing happened, all we had in the world was a littleover seven hundred dollars. I was right away for economizing, formanaging, for turning to some other position. But father, I tell you, was in a perfect rage. When I mentioned finances to him he got up andshouted. "Money!" he yelled at me. "What's money? Who wants money?It's a fool's game to get money; anybody can do it. " When he saw thatI doubted he told me to pack up that very day and he'd show me; he'dshow the world. The new University man named him an old fogy, did he?He'd show him. Didn't he know more than any other man living aboutgeology? About the making of the earth and the minerals of the earth?Was it any trick to find gold? Not in the dribbles, but such a mine asnever a miner drove a pick into yet?'

She sighed again and grew silent. Howard, toying idly with the spursin his hands, could at the moment find nothing to say. 

'Dear old pops, ' she said more softly in a moment. 'I am afraid thathis heart-breaking time is coming now--when he learns that it isn't soeasy to find gold, after all. '

'No, ' said Howard slowly. 'No. It doesn't break a man's heart, for heis always sure that it is coming the next day and the next and thenext. I've known them to go on that way until they died, and then knowin their hearts that they'd make a strike the next day--if only theLord would spare them twenty-four hours more. '

'I wanted father to bank our money, ' went on Helen, her eyes darkening. 'I wanted to go to work, to earn something. I can teach. But hewouldn't hear of it. He said--he said that if the time had come whenhe couldn't support his own daughter it was high time he was dead. '

Howard nodded his understanding. 'He's a good sport, I tell you, ' hemaintained warmly. 'And I like him. Who knows but that he may makehis ten-strike here after all? Or, ' as he marked the droop of thegirl's mouth and understood how she must be thinking of how little wasleft of their pittance, he added briskly, 'this is a better place thanthe East any day; there are more chances. If a man is the right sortthere is always a chance for him. If you want to teach---- Well, we've got schools out here, haven't we?'

Helen's eyes rounded at him. 'Have you? Where?'

'And bully good schools, ' he insisted. 'There's the Big Springs schoolnot over ten miles off, over that way. You could have a job thereto-morrow, if you said the word. '

Her eyes brightened. 'There is a vacancy, then?'

'Well, ' he admitted, 'I'm not so sure about that. There's a teacherthere, I believe. But, ' and now it was his eyes that brightened, 'itcould be fixed somehow. Just leave it to John and me. '

She laughed at him and all her gaiety came surging back. 

'Here I've been drawing a face a mile long, ' she cried lightly, 'wheneverything's all right as far as I can see in all directions. I amgoing down to see what father is up to; he and Mr. Barbee look to melike a couple of youngsters plotting trouble. '

A look of understanding flashed between Yellow Barbee and ProfessorLongstreet as the two came down from the ranch-house. ThereafterLongstreet beamed upon his daughter while Yellow Barbee, his hat farback upon the blonde cluster of curls, turned his insolent eyes uponher. Helen, deeming him overbold, sought to 'squelch' him with a look. Instead she saw both mirth and admiration shining in the baby-blueeyes. She turned her back upon El Joven, who retaliated by turning hisback upon her and swaggering away into the stable, whistling throughhis teeth as he went. Howard went with him for his horse. 

'Papa, ' said Helen after the stern fashion which in time comes naturalto the girl with a wayward father, 'what are you two up to?'

'My darling, ' said Longstreet hurriedly, 'what do you mean?'

'I mean you and that young scamp. He's bad, papa; bad all the waythrough. And you, you dear old innocent----'

Longstreet glanced hastily over his shoulder and then frowned at her. 

'You mustn't talk that way. He is a remarkably fine young fellow. Weare in a new environment, you and I, Helen. We are in Rome and mustlearn something of the Romans. Now, Mr. Barbee----'

'Is Roman all the way through!' sniffed Helen. 'You just look out thathe doesn't lead you into mischief. '

In the stable Howard was saddling two horses, meaning to invite Helento begin her serious study now. He, too, was interested in the oddfriendship which seemed to be growing up so swiftly between two men soutterly unlike. He turned to Barbee to ask a question and saw theyoung fellow stoop and sweep up something that had fallen into thestraw underfoot. Howard's eyes were quick and keen; it was only aflash, but he recognized a ten of spades. He turned back to the latigohe was drawing tight. But before they left the stable he offeredcarelessly:

'What do you think of the professor, Barbee?'

And Barbee answered joyously:

'He's a reg'lar ring-tailed old he-devil, Al. ' He winked brightly. 'One of these days him and me is going to drift down to Tres Pinos. And, say, won't the town know about us?'

'What do you mean?' demanded Howard sharply. 

Barbee considered him a thoughtful moment. Then he shrugged. 

'Oh, nothing, ' he said. 

Chapter VI

The Youthful Heart

To both Helen and her father, tarrying at Desert Valley Ranch, thelong, still, hot days were fraught with much new interest. Life wasnew and golden, viewed from this fresh viewpoint. Helen had comehitherward from her city haunts with trepidation; even Longstreet, serenely optimistic regarding the ultimate crown of success to hislabour, was genuinely delighted. The days passed all too swiftly. 

As can in no way be held reprehensible in one of her age and maidenlybeauty and charm, Helen's interest had to do primarily with men, twomen. They, quite as should be in this land of novelty, were unlike themen she had known. With each passing hour Helen came to see this moreclearly. She was a bright young woman, alert and with at least amodicum of scientific mental attitude inherited from the machinery ofher father's brain. Like any other healthy young animal, she wanted toknow whys and wherefores and the like. 

The evening of their first day, alone in her room for an hour beforebed, she settled for herself the first difference between these men ofthe desert fringes and the men she had known at home. To begin with, she reviewed in mind her old acquaintances: there were a half-dozenprofessors, instructors, assistants who called infrequently on herfather and whom she had come to know with a degree of familiarity. Theyoungest of them had been twenty years older than Helen, and, whereasher father was always an old dear, sometimes a hopeless and helplessold dear, they were simply old fogies. They constituted, however, animportant department in her male friends; the rest were as easilycatalogued. They were the young college men--men in name only, boys inactuality. They were of her own age or two or four years older or ayear younger. They danced and made mysterious references to the beerthey had wickedly drunk; they motored in their fathers' cars and playedtennis in their fathers' flannels when they fitted; no doubt they weremen in the making, but to judge them as men already was like lookingprematurely into the oven to see how the bread was doing; they werestill under-baked. So far they were playing with the game of life;life, herself, had not yet taken them seriously, had not reached outthe iron hand that eventually would seize them by the back of the neck, the slack of the trousers, and pitch them out into the open arena. 

Helen was considerably pleased with the result of her meditations: herfather's academic friends had held back behind college walls and thushad never come out into the scrimmage that makes men; her own youngfriends had not yet reached the time when they would buckle on theirarmour and mount and talk lance in hand. Alan Howard and John Carrwere men who for a number of years had done man's work out in the open, no doubt giving and receiving doughty blows. She considered Carr: hehad taken a monster outfit like Desert Valley and had made it over, inhis own image, like a god working. There were thousands of acres, shehad no idea how many. There were cattle and horses and mules; againshe thought of them only vaguely as countless. There were many menobeying his orders, taking his daily wage. Carr had mastered a big joband the job had made a masterly man of him. Then had come Alan Howardwith vision and determination and courage. He had expended almost hislast cent for a first payment upon the huge property; he was riskingall that he had gathered of the world's goods, he was out in the openwaging his battle like a young king claiming his heritage. Helenclothed the act in the purple and gold of romance and thrilled at herown picture. 

'After all, ' she discovered, 'there _are_ different kinds of men and Inever knew men like these two. '

Then, when she thought of Yellow Barbee, she sniffed. Barbee was abouther own age; she considered him a mere child and transparent. 

She had said good night to her father, but now suddenly in a mood forconversation went out into the hall and tiptoed to his door. Whenthere came no response to her gentle tapping she opened the door anddiscovered only darkness and emptiness. She was mildly surprised;distinctly she had heard him go into his room and close his door andshe had not heard him go out again. 

There are men who, though they may live to be a hundred years old, keepalways the fresh heart of twenty. James Edward Longstreet was one ofthem. He was a man of considerable erudition; he had always supposedthat the choice had lain entirely with him. He had always been amplycontent with his existence, had genially considered that the whole ofthe bright stream of life, gently deflected, had flowed through hiscollege halls and under his calm eyes. Now his youthful soul was in adelightful turmoil; adventures had come to him, more adventures werecoming. Men like Barbee had given him the staunch hand of friendship;they had welcomed him as an equal. And something until now untouched, unguessed, that had lived on in his boy's heart, stirred and awoke andthrilled. To-night, with a vague sense of guilt which made theescapade but the more electric, while his daughter had imagined that hewas getting himself sedately into his long-tailed, sedate nightgown, hewas beaming warmly upon the highly entertained group of ranch handsdown in the men's bunk-house, whither, by the way, he had been led byBarbee. 

There comes now and then to such an isolation as Desert Valley a boonfrom the gods in the guise of a tenderfoot. But never tenderfoot, agreed the oldest Mexican with the youngest Texan, like this one. Theysat lined in back-tilted chairs about the four walls and studied himwith eyes that were at all times appreciative, often downright grave. His ignorance was astounding, his hunger for information amazing. Hewas a man from Mars who knew all that was to be known in his own worldbut brought into this strange planet a frank and burning curiosity. Barbee's chaps delighted him; a hair rope awoke in his soul anavaricious hunger for a hair rope of his own; commonplace ranchmatters, like branding and marking and breeding and weaning andbreaking, evoked countless eager questions. For so academic a man, thestrange thing about him was his attitude toward these day labourers; helooked upon them as brothers; not only that, but as older brothers. Heforgot his own wisdom in his thirst to partake of theirs. He gave thefull of his admiration to a man whom he had seen that day cast a wideloop of rope about the horns of a running steer. 

He was making discoveries hand over fist; perhaps therein lay asufficient reason why the man of science in him was fascinated. True, those discoveries which he made were new only to him; yet one might saythe same of America and Columbus. For one thing, it dawned on him thathere was a new and excellent technical vocabulary; he stored away inhis brain strange words as a squirrel sticks nuts and acorns into ahole. Hondo, tapaderos, bad hombre, tecolote, bronco, maverick, side-winder--rapaciously he seized upon them as bits of the argot offairyland. He watched the expert roll the brown tube of a cigaretteand yearned for the skill; he observed tricks in riding, and there waswithin him the compelling urge to ride like that; not a trifle escapedhis shark-eyes, be it the way the men combed their hair, mounted theirhorses, or dragged their spurs. To-night and with unhidden elation heaccepted Barbee's invitation to 'set in and roll the bones' with them. 'Roll the bones!' When some day he went back home, the owner of the'greatest little mine this side of the Rockies, ' he'd work that off onhis old chum, Professor Anstruther. He drew up his chair to the table, piled a jumble of coins in front of him and took into his hands theenticing cubes. 

He did not think of it as gambling; he had never gambled, had neverwanted to. But he was all alive to join in the amusements of his newfriends, to be like them. After all, he was putting up as sorts ofmarkers a few five and ten-cent pieces with an occasional quarter orhalf-dollar, and to him money had never had much significance. Thegame was the thing and he found in it from the first a keenmathematical interest. There were five dice; each dice with its sixsurfaces had six different numbers. While he beamed into the veiledeyes of the old Mexican he was figuring upon the various combinationspossible and the likelihood, the theory of chances, of a six or an aceupon the second throw. From the jump the game fascinated him; it is tobe questioned, however, if ever before a man knew just the sort offascination which enthralled him. No matter who won or lost, when therolling cubes behaved in conformity with the mathematical laws, hefairly sparkled. And in the end he lost only six or seven dollars anddid not in the least realize that he had lost a cent. When at last heleft to go to bed, all of the eyes in the room followed him. They werepuzzled eyes. 

'The old boy's all right, ' said one man. It was Tod Barstow, an oldhand. And he added, nodding, 'He's a damn good loser. '

Barbee chuckled and pocketed his small winnings. 

'That's what I'm playing him for, Toddy, ' he admitted with his cheerfulgrin. 

In the end the Longstreets went from Desert Valley straight on to thenearest town, that of Big Run, only a dozen miles still east of theranch. The suggestion came from Longstreet himself, who had had apicturesque account of the settlement from Barbee. 

'I estimate, ' the professor announced at breakfast, 'that we shall bethe matter of two or three months at Last Ridge. What comforts we havethere will be the results of our own efforts. Now, though we havebrought with us certain of the absolute necessities, there is much inthe way of provision and sundries that we should have. Mr. Howard hasbeen so very considerate as to offer us a wagon and horses and even adriver. I think, my dear, that we would do well to drive into Big Run, which I understand is a progressive community with an excellent store. We can get what we require there and the next day return to the LastRidge. '

Only approval greeted his words. Howard, it appeared, had business inBig Run and would make the trip with them; Carr judged that it was timefor him to be clearing out, and his way led through Big Run. So theyhurried through breakfast and started. 

Tod Barstow handled the reins of the four mules; beside him on thehigh, rocking seat, sat Longstreet. During his sojourn on the ranch hehad acquired a big bright-red bandana handkerchief which now wasknotted loosely about his sun-reddened throat; the former crease in hisbig hat had given place to a tall peak: he wore a pair of leatherwrist-cuffs which he had purchased from Barbee. Barstow grunted andturned the grunt into a shrill yell directed at his mules; they knewhis voice and jammed their necks deep into their collars, taking theroad at a run. Longstreet, taken unawares, bounced and camedangerously near toppling off the seat. Then with both hands he clungto the iron guard-rod at the back of the seat and took his joy out of anew mode of travel. 

Helen had elected to go on horseback. Howard had brought out for her apretty little mare, coal-black and slender-limbed, but sufficientlygentle. Barbee, who had been watching, suddenly set his toe in his ownstirrup and went up into the saddle, racing on to overtake and pass thewagon. Howard and Carr glanced swiftly at each other; then their eyeswent to the girl. Howard helped her to mount and reined in at herright, Carr dropped into place at her left, and so, the three abreast, they followed Barbee. 

They rode slowly, and now Howard, now Carr, told her of the points ofinterest along the trail. When they crossed the lower end of thevalley and came to the top of the gentle slope extending along itseastern edge, Helen made a discovery. All these latter days she hadthought of the desert as behind her, lying all to the westward. Nowshe understood how the ranch was aptly named Desert Valley; it was afreak, an oasis, a fertile valley with desert lands to east as well aswest, and to north and south. When they had ridden down the far slopeof the hills they were once more upon the edges of the solitudes ofsand-sweep and sand-ridge and cactus and mesquite and utter drought. Every step their horses took carried them further into a land of aridmenace; at the end of the first hour it was difficult to imagine greenwater-fields only a handful of miles away. 

'It's just the water that makes the difference, ' Howard told her. 'Isn't it, John?' Carr nodded. 'If a man could get water to put onthis land that is burning our horses' fetlocks off right now, he'd haveall the crops and stock range he wanted. Why, the bigger part ofDesert Valley was like this before John took hold of it; he developedthe water, and I've gone on with his work, and look what we've got now!'

'That makes your ranch all the more wonderful!' cried Helen. 

Howard's eyes glowed; she noted that they always did when he spoke thusof Desert Valley or when she bespoke her hearty approval of his choice. Something prompted her to turn swiftly to Carr; his head was down; hewas frowning at the horn of his saddle; Helen, not devoid of eitherintuition or tact, changed the conversation. But not before she notedthat Howard, too, had looked toward his friend. 

Big Run huddled among tall cottonwoods in a shallow hollow. It wasblessed with several clear, pure springs, its only blessing. It wasself-sufficient, impudent. About it on all sides was the sweep of greydesert; in the shade of its cottonwoods, along its thicket of willows, was a modicum of greenness and coolness; its ugly houses like toadssquatting in the shade had an air of jeering at the wastes of sand andscrub. The place was old in years and iniquity. The amazing thingconnected with it was that its water could remain pure; one would havethought that through the years even the deathless springs would havebeen contaminated. Long ago it had been a Hopi camp; in their tongueit was called the 'Half-Way between Here and There. ' Later a handfulof treacherous devils from below the border had swooped down into thecottonwood hollow. They had dissipated the Indian group, for the sakeof robbery and murder. They had squatted by the water-holes, prototypes of the crooked buildings which now recalled them; they hadbuilded the town by the simple device of driving Indian labourers tothe task. White men subsequently had come, men of the restless foot, lone prospectors, cattlemen. They had lodged briefly at the hotelwhich necessity had called into being, had played cards in the adobe of'Tonio Moraga, had quarrelled with the surly southerners, had now andthen shot their way out into the clear starlit night or had known thecruel bite of steel, and in any case had left Big Run as they had foundit--a town oddly American in nothing whatever save its name, which hadcome whence and how no man knew. 

First into town that morning rode Yellow Barbee; with no urge to lingerand a definite destination ahead, he always rode hard, his hat farback, his blue eyes shining. He sent his lean roan on the run down thecrooked street among the crooked houses; he scattered a handful ofdirty ducks flopping and scuttling out of his way; he drew after him anoisy barking of dogs, startled out of their sleep in the shade; hebrought his horse up with a sharp jerk of the reins before theblue-and-white sign of the saloon; he was half out of the saddle when aglimpse of something down the street altered his intention in a flash;he wheeled his horse, and, with one stirrup flying wildly, his big hatin his hand, his eyes on fire, he went racing back down the street andagain stopped with a jerk. This time the sign before him spelledhotel. Leaving his horse to pant and fight flies, Yellow Barbee strodein at the open door. 

Next came in due time Tod Barstow and the mule team and Longstreet. They clattered along in clouds of high-puffed dust, harness jingling. Barstow swung his leaders skilfully and narrowly around the brokencorners of old adobes and slammed on his brake before the store, thatis to say, half-way between saloon and hotel. He climbed down, Longstreet after him. 

Finally came the loiterers, Helen and Carr and Howard. They notedBarbee's roan at its hitching-rail; further they glimpsed through athirsty-looking dusty vine--that which Barbee had glimpsed before them. Some one wearing cool, laundered white was out upon the side porch;Barbee's voice, young and eager, low yet vibrant, bespoke Barbee'sproximity to the Someone. 

'The widow. ' said Carr. He looked at Howard. 'I'll bet you a hat it'sMrs. Murray, Al. '

It was vaguely impressed upon Helen that a significance less casualthan the light words themselves lay in Carr's remark. She, too, lookedat Howard. There was a frown in his eyes. Slowly, as his look methers, a flush spread in his cheeks. Carr saw it and laughed amusedly. 

'Look out, Al, ' he chuckled. 'She'll get you yet. '

Now Howard laughed with him and the flush subsided. 

'John thinks he's a great little josher, Miss Helen, ' he said lightly. 'No doubt you'll meet Mrs. Murray at lunch; you just watch the way shelooks at John Carr!--there's the professor waiting for us. John, I'lllay you a bet of another hat!'

'Well?' asked Carr. 

'I'll bet you Jim Courtot has turned up again. '

But Longstreet had sighted them and was out in the road calling tothem, and Carr made no answer. 

Chapter VII

Waiting for Moonrise

For upward of two hours Longstreet and Helen were at the store, makingtheir purchases. Carr said good-bye, promising to look them up attheir camp at the ridge by the time they should be ready for callers;he shook hands warmly with the professor, and for a moment stood overHelen, looking steadily into her eyes. She returned his regard franklyand friendlily, but in the end flushed a little. When Carr went out, Howard, saying that he would be back presently, went out with him. 

'Two bang-up, square-shooting gents!' cried Longstreet warmly. Helenturned upon him in amazement. 

'Papa!' she gasped. 'Where on earth did you get that sort of talk?'

Longstreet smiled brightly. 

'Haven't I told you, my dear. ' he explained, 'that when in Rome oneshould learn from the Romans?'

He led the way to the counter. It was heaped high with all sorts ofmerchandise, dry goods and groceries, and hardware--anything thepurchaser might desire from ham and bacon and tinned goods to shirtsand overalls, spurs and guns. Behind it stood the proprietor, aslant-eyed, thievish-looking Mexican, while behind him were his untidyshelves--a further jumble of commodities. He looked his approval atthe girl, his professional interest at the father. 

Longstreet frankly turned out the contents of his purse upon thecounter, his ready way of computing their resources and judging theproper cash outlay for the present. The slant eyes grew narrower withspeculation. 

'One hundred and eighty-odd dollars, ' he computed approximately. 'We'll spend about a hundred with you to-day, my friend. '

'_Bueno, señor_, ' agreed the Mexican. And he waved to his shelves. 

Helen, who knew only too well her father's carelessness in moneymatters, was not satisfied with an approximate estimate of theirresources. She counted carefully. 

'You should have had nearer two hundred dollars, pops, ' she told himgently. 'Have you felt in all your pockets? I am afraid that you havelost a five or ten-dollar piece. '

He evaded. 'It's of no moment. ' he said hastily. 'A few bucks one wayor the other won't plug a hole in a 'dobe wall. And this _hombre_ iswaiting. '

This time Helen did not even gasp. Something had occurred to workhavoc with her father's accustomed fine academic speech. This smacked, she thought, of the influence of Barbee. 

But soon she forgot this and with it the discrepancy in cash; she hadbegun to purchase, to barter with the storekeeper, to fairly revel indelights of camp preparations. For, after all, life was not allseriousness, and here, offering itself for the morrow, was a rare lark. A spice of recklessness entered the moment; the dollars went skippingacross the counter, and packages and boxes came heaped up in theirplaces. 

Howard looked in on them once; they did not see him. He went his way, and still Longstreet made new suggestions and Helen and the Mexicanbargained. The first coolness of the late afternoon was stirring, thebroad sun had gone down, leaving the land in soft, grateful shadow, something over a hundred dollars had been spent, when with a sigh Helenput the residue of the family fortune into the old purse, and thepurse, though reluctantly, into her father's pocket. She did not wantto hurt his feelings now; but she really thought that once they weresettled in their new home, she ought to employ some tactful method ofacquiring custody. 

They went down the dusty street arm in arm and in gay spirits. TodBarstow had driven off to a stable somewhere; the goods were to becalled for to-morrow morning; now they could go down to the hotel, tothe chairs on the shady porch, and then to dinner. And, thought Helen, with more than a flicker of interest, she would see the 'widow. '

As though she were awaiting them, Mrs. Murray was on the porch. Withher was Barbee, who rose promptly and elaborately performed theceremony of introduction. 

'Mr. Longstreet, ' he said formally, 'shake hands with my friend, Mrs. Murray. Miss Longstreet, make you acquainted with my friend, Mrs. Murray. '

Mrs. Murray shook hands with them both, exclaiming brightly at herdelight. Then, as they all sat down, she and Helen considered eachother. Oddly, Helen had known all along that she would not like Mrs. Murray; now, and after the first probing glance, she was prepared fordownright dislike. Longstreet, on the other hand, was obviously veryfavourably impressed. Nor without more than a little to be said on hisside of the question. The woman was young, petite, dark and unusuallypretty. Her teeth flashed in engaging smiles, her eyes were large andquick and bright; she was all vivacity; her glance could be at onemoment limpid, humid, haunting, and at the moment hold a gleam andsparkle of mirth. Even Helen could find no fault with her littletravelling suit. 

Plain to be read by anyone with a claim to eyesight was Yellow Barbee'sdevotion; equally plainly decipherable, thought Helen, was the fact ofMrs. Murray's amusement at Barbee's infatuation. It meant nothing toher; she was playing with him as, no doubt, she had played with manyanother susceptible youngster. Helen was sure she read that in theeyes which the young woman turned now and then upon the languishingyoung cowboy. 

Presently Alan Howard put in his appearance, freshly shaven and shorn, and they all went in together to supper. Helen was unaffectedly gladto see him; she had seen all that she cared to see of Mrs. Murray andsomething more than that of Barbee. Howard greeted Mrs. Murraycasually; she cried a friendly, 'Oh, hello, Al!' and he stepped toHelen's side. Barbee hastened to place his big palm under Mrs. Murray's elbow and steered her, after the approved fashion of thecommunity, in to the table. She allowed him the liberty; but whileBarbee's eyes devoured her face, Helen managed to mark that the 'widow'was studying Alan Howard. 

At table Alan and Helen found a variety of subjects to interest them;Mrs. Murray stared at them a moment, then shrugged her plump shouldersand made Barbee transcendently happy and miserable by turns; Longstreetate his dried beef stew abstractedly. Barbee and Mrs. Murray, whofinished first, excused themselves and went back to the gathering duskof the porch, whence her light laughter came now and then trilling backinto the dining-room. 

'Who is she?' asked Helen, her eyes full upon Howard's. 

'Mrs. Murray?' He shrugged. 'That is all I know of her; or that anyoneI know knows of her. I don't fancy, ' he added coolly, 'that you willlike her. '

'I don't, ' the girl announced briefly. 

'Mind you, ' he hurried to continue, 'I don't know a blessed thingagainst her. I just meant that I didn't think her your kind. '

'Thank you, ' Helen replied, accepting the statement as a satisfactorycompliment. He laughed. Then he looked toward the professor, whosethoughts were plainly a thousand miles away. 

'I've caught an inspiration, ' he said softly. 

'What is it?' smiled Helen. 

There'll be a moon in two or three hours. At best the accommodationshere are bad; rooms stuffy and close and hot. If you are not tootired-----'

He saw that she understood what he meant, and further that she gave herglad acceptance. 

'It will be fun!' she told him. He even detected a something ofeagerness in her tone; he had already thought that it would be just heand she this time--they two alone riding together out through theglorious night, chaperoned only by the knowledge that somewhere in thedistance behind them the wagon jolted along. He wondered if she, too, had thought of this?

When the three at table finished and went out into the cool of theporch they found only empty chairs; a half-silhouette showed whereBarbee leaned against a pepper tree by the roadside. Helen settledherself comfortably, wandering if Mrs. Murray had re-entered the hotelby some side door or if she had business elsewhere. Howard made thesuggestion of the return to Desert Valley. Longstreet hesitated, thenobjected, saying that by now the store would be closed and that thewagon was still to be loaded. 

'Tod Barstow will be up at the saloon, probably looking for a game ofcribbage, ' said Howard. 'It will take me about three shakes to locatehim. The store will be open; old Mexican Pete lives in the back. I'llhave Tod hitch up at the first peep of the moon; he can load your stuffon in twenty minutes. '

Helen added her voice to Alan's. Longstreet's eyes travelled out tothe listless figure against the pepper tree. At the moment Barbee'ssilhouette disengaged itself from the tree's shadowy trunk and startedup the road. 

'All right, ' said Longstreet. 'But you needn't trouble about lookingup Barstow; I'd enjoy the walk. If you and Helen will wait here, I'llsee that the wagon is ready about moonrise. ' And as though he had justremembered an important engagement, he hurried away. 

They saw him overtake Barbee; they heard his cheerful voice, and then asurly rejoinder from the boy. Then, far across the sky, a star felland their eyes went to it together and they fell silent. When thebrief silence was gone, and they talked in lowered voices, they hadboth forgotten Longstreet and Barbee. And, for one, Alan Howard was inno haste for the rising moon. 

Chapter VIII

Poker and the Scientific Mind

Barbee, as he himself would have expressed it, was soured on life. Atleast for the moment, and after all that is about all that life is, theinstant that it is passing. When Longstreet called to him he gruntedin disgust. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and spat outthe cold stump of his cigarette. It was Barbee's natural way to swingalong with his hat far back, so that he might see the stars. Now hishat brim was dragged low, and for Barbee the stars were only lessremote and frigid than a certain fickle woman. 

'I say, Barbee, ' called the professor a second time. 

Barbee slumped on without turning, but growled over his shoulder:

'Can't you leave a man alone?'

Longstreet doubted his ears; the boy had been so friendly. He triedhurriedly and in vain to recall some trifle in which perhaps, beingmisunderstood, he had offended. During his mental uncertainty thenatural physical hesitancy had resulted in Barbee's gaining a lead of adozen steps. Hence when a white figure flitted out from the shadows tothe boy's side, Longstreet was not near enough to hear the whisperedwords; the soft trill of a laugh he caught, to be sure, and immediatelyrecognized as Mrs. Murray's. Then she had drawn away from Barbee, called good night and passed on to the hotel, so close to Longstreetthat her skirts brushed him. Barbee stood still watching her until shedisappeared under the porch vines. Longstreet came on to his sidethen. They fell into step and again Barbee was swaggering with his oldbuoyancy; again his hat was far back, and his eyes were on the stars. 

'Hello, old sport, ' he said affably. 'Some night, ain't it?'

To know why a man of the type of James Edward Longstreet should beflattered at being called 'old sport' by one of the type of YellowBarbee is to understand human nature; Longstreet was utterly human. The bonds of environment are bands of steel; the little boy that closeto threescore years ago was Johnny Longstreet had been restricted bythem, his growth had been that of a gourd with a strap about itsmiddle; he had perforce grown in conformity with the commands of theoutside pressure. Had he been born in Poco Poco and reared on a ranch, it is at least likely that he would not have been a professor in anEastern university. Now that the steel girdles of environment werestricken off it appeared that the youthful heart of him stimulated newgrowth. As for heredity, environment's collaborator, both he andBarbee were lineal descendants of father Adam and mother Eve. But, bethe explanation where it may, 'the everlasting miracle' was the same, and the 'old sport' beamed as he would not have done had the Universityof Edinburgh bestowed upon him a new degree. 

'Let's frolic a few, ' suggested Barbee, with a sidelong glance. 

'I have some business to attend to, ' said Longstreet eagerly. 'I'llhurry through with it. Then--then I assure you that I shall be glad towitness with you the--the gaiety of the--of the places of amusementhere. '

He explained what his business was. 

'You stop at the store, then, ' said Barbee. 'Tell Mexico Pete to haveyour grub and truck ready; I'll mosey on up to the saloon and scare upTod and tell him about the team. I'll wait for you up there. And, since we ain't got all night, suppose you shake a foot, pardner. '

When a few minutes later Longstreet reached the adobe saloon of 'TonioMoraga, he found Yellow Barbee smoking a cigarette outside the deep-setdoor. 

'Kind of quiet, ' apologized the young fellow. 'But we'll look 'emover. '

He struck the door open with his shoulder and Longstreet followed himinto a big room sufficiently well lighted by a couple of hangingkerosene lamps. At one side was an ancient, battered bar; behind thebar a lazy Mexican in shirt sleeves; at one end Tod Barstow pouring thecool contents of a pint bottle of some pinkish beverage directly fromthe throat of the bottle into his own throat; lounging idly in chairsof various interesting stages of dilapidation half a dozen men, alldark-skinned, black of moustache and hair. Barstow's positionnecessitated the fixing of his eyes upon the ceiling; all otherglances, ignoring Barbee, centred upon Longstreet. He was smiling andeager. 

'Come alive, gents!' called Barbee genially. 'Stack up alongside thebar and I'll buy! Moraga, ' to the bartender, 'you know me. I got areal bad case of alkali throat. Roll up, boys!--Say, wait a minute. Moraga, meet my friend Longstreet. ' Moraga showed many large whiteteeth in a friendly smile and gave into Longstreet's keeping a small, moist and very flabby hand. The other men, silently accepting theinvitation, came forward; Barbee introduced them all. Longstreet's wasthe emotion of one being initiated into a new fraternity. 

They named their poison, in the parlance of the neighbourhood, andstood to their glasses like so many valiant gunners. Longstreet, bigenough in his views of humanity, to look upon them as so many boyishsouls, beamed. Then he noted that they seemed to be waiting forsomething, wondered what it might be, glanced over his shoulder, lookedback at them and understood. They were waiting for him. So he saidhastily, and in their own phrase:

'Same thing. '

Which, of course, brought down to his place on the bar a small glassand a large bottle. He had never done a thing like this in all thecalm days of his existence, but now the deed came naturally enough. Hepoured his glass and even echoed the other remarks of 'Here's how. 'When the fiery liquor arrived in his stomachical regions he realizedwith perfect clarity that it was without doubt some newly inventedsubstitute for whisky; perhaps that jackass-brandy which he had heardof. His emotion was twofold: he was glad that Helen was at the hoteland he was determined not to repeat the dose. 

'That's the goods, ' said Longstreet jocularly, trying to smack his lips. 

Barbee led the way to the nearest table and out of the nowhere broughtinto the here a deck of cards. Longstreet was on the verge ofapplauding when he noted that every one else accepted the act as amatter of fact, and subsided into himself and into a chair at the samemoment. 

'Who'll make it four-cornered?' demanded Barbee. 'Short, but livelywhile she lasts. Little old game, name of stud horse?'

Two of the Mexicans, having hesitated and then looked to Barbee, cameforward and deposited themselves carelessly in the two chairs. Barbeeshuffled, cut, shuffled again and put the cards down. 

'Cut for deal, ' he ordered. 

When each of the other men had leaned forward and lifted a sheaf ofcards, Longstreet divided the remainder. The deal went to Barbee. Andwhat is more, Longstreet understood why; Barbee showed the highestcard, a king. Longstreet straightened in his chair and his interestgrew; he went over in mind what he had learned at the ranch. A pairbeats a stiff, two pair beat a pair, threes beat two pair and so on. It was simplicity itself and here was he, Professor Edward Longstreet, measuring his judgment against that of Mexican Mendoza, Mexican Chavezand Yellow Barbee, cowpuncher. Ready from the flip of the first cardto concede that these gentlemen had had a rather wider experience withcard-playing, none the less he realized the superiority of hismentality, his greater intellectual training, and fully expectedsomething more than just an 'even break. ' He concealed the faces ofhis cards cannily and gave his scholarly brain entirely to a pleasanttask in mathematics. 

Through many years of training he was familiar with abstruse problems;hence it may be forgiven him, if, at first blush, this form of pokerappeared simplicity itself. He reasoned thus: There were fifty-twocards in the full deck; there were exactly four, neither more nor less, of each ace, deuce, trey and so forth until one got to the king; therewere, also, just four men drawing cards; each man, if he played hishand out, could draw five cards. All of this was data; it seemed asthough he had _x_ and _y_ given and was merely to find _z_. His eye, as the game began, registered zest. 

He remembered former instructions: Each man's first card, dealt facedown, was to remain face down until the hand was played out; the ownerof that first card, and no other man, had the right to turn up thecorner and discover what it was. So when Barbee tossed his card tohim, Longstreet wasted no time in peeking at it. It was the ace ofclubs; not a better card in the deck! He lifted his face and beamed;it was a good start. And this time the emotion registered in his frankeye was that of a guileless old gentleman who has an ace in the hole. There was no misreading that triumphant gleam. 

Again the cards fell gently from Barbee's practised hand, each of thefour faces up this time. Longstreet's was a king; he nodded hisacceptance and approval. All of the time his brain was busied with hisdeveloping theory of chances: there were four aces, four kings in thedeck, and he already had one of each. There were four players in all;there were fifty-two cards; it was unlikely that in this hand anotherking should turn up. And no other king did; he had the high card. Hesmiled warmly. 

'The high card bets, ' drawled Barbee. 

'Oh!' exclaimed Longstreet. 'Yes, to be sure. Let me see. '

His sparkling eye roved about the table. Barbee's exposed card was ajack, one of the Mexicans had a ten and the other a four. Longstreetfelt both warmed with triumph and yet a little sorry for them. So hedid the kind thing by them and bet only a dollar. The two Mexicanslifted their brows at him, looked to Barbee, and then with a splendidshow of nonchalance both came in. Barbee chinked his silver dollardown upon the others and dealt the third card. Longstreet waitedbreathlessly. 

This time there came to him another king, the king of spades, and hislittle exclamation of genuine delight was a pretty thing to hear. Butthe next second a look of frowning incredulity overspread his features;the king of hearts fell to Chavez and the king of diamonds to Mendoza. Barbee gave himself an ace. But it was not the ace that interestedLongstreet; his newly-born theory of chances was a trifle upset. Thatthree kings, when there were only three left in the deck, should comeone on the heels of another was a matter for reflection. But evidentlythere was no time granted for readjustment of preconceived ideas. 

'Longstreet's the only man with a pair in sight, ' said Barbee. 'It'syour bet again, Longstreet. '

Longstreet hurriedly bet a dollar. Chavez, with a king and ten inview, raised the bet four dollars. Mendoza withdrew his hand and hisattention and began rolling a cigarette, never once taking his eyesfrom Longstreet's eager face. Barbee tossed in his five dollars, andLongstreet was brought to realize that if he wished to remain in thegame it was in order for him to add another four dollars to his bet. He did so without a moment's hesitation. And again he began his searchof the deathless underlying mathematical law of the game of stud poker. 

Meanwhile Barbee dealt the fourth card. When the fates had it that asecond ace fell to Longstreet's lot they should have been amply repaidby the glowing smile that widened his good-humoured mouth. He now had, and he realized to the full his strategic position in that no one elsecould have his secret knowledge, a pair of kings _and_ a pair of aces. The two biggest pairs in the deck! He looked with renewed interest atthe other cards. Chavez now had two tens exposed; before Barbee lay nopair at all, just a jack, an ace and a five. There was but one morecard to be dealt. He could therefore count Barbee out of the running. It remained to him and Chavez, and Chavez had only a pair of tens insight. 

'Your bet again, Longstreet, ' Barbee reminded him. He started and bethis dollar. Chavez repeated his earlier performance and raised the betfour dollars. Barbee tossed away his cards; Longstreet noted the acttriumphantly, and nodded in the manner of a father approving the wiseact of a young untried son. 

'What you do, _señor_?' asked the Mexican. Longstreet withdrew hiseyes from Barbee and gave his attention to his antagonist, a half-bredMexican of low-grade mentality who was offering a duel of wits! He betthe requisite four dollars. 

And now from Barbee's fingers came the last cards, one for Longstreetand one for Chavez. Longstreet drew a queen and went into the silenceof deep meditation; to Chavez came a lowly seven. Longstreet needed noprompting that it was time to bet; further he understood that this wasthe last round, the final opportunity. He did not wait for thecustomary raise of Chavez, but slipped five dollars into the pot andsat back, beaming. 

Nor did the Mexican hesitate. He pushed out to the centre of the tablewith slow brown fingers two twenty-dollar gold pieces. 

'You--you raise me?' asked Longstreet. 

'_Si, señor_. Tirty-fife _pesos mas_. '

Longstreet curbed a desire to warn the man, to insist that hereconsider. But in the end he kept his own counsel and made hiscomplementary bet of thirty-five dollars. 

'Call you, ' he said quite in his best form. 

The Mexican extracted from the bottom of his cards the first one dealthim face down and flipped it over carelessly. It was a ten; he hadthree tens, and the professor's extremely handsome pairs of aces andkings were as nothing. The Mexican's brown fingers drew the winningsin toward him, Longstreet's fifty-one dollars among them. Longstreetstared at him and at Barbee and at the treacherous cards themselves insheer bewilderment. 

It was not that he was shocked at the loss of a rather large sum ofmoney in his present circumstances; his brain did not focus on thepoint. He was trying to see in what his advance theories hadmiscarried. For certainly it had seemed extremely unlikely that Chavezwould have had three tens. Why, there were only four tens in the deckof fifty-two, there were four men playing, there remained in the deck, untouched, thirty-two cards----

'Deal 'em up, ' said Barbee. 'Your deal, old boy. '

'It lies entirely within the scope of conservative probability, ' saidLongstreet blandly, his eyes carrying the look of a man who in spiritis far away from his physical environment, 'that, after all, my datawere not sufficient. '

'Talking to me?' said Barbee. He made a playful show of looking overhis shoulder to the invisible recipient of Longstreet's confidences; atthe moment a door behind him opened and a new face did actually appear. Barbee's glance grew into a stare of surprise. Then he turned squareabout in his chair again and snapped out: 'Deal, can't you?' Longstreetsaw that the boy's face was red; that his eyes burned malignantly. 

'Hello, Barbee, ' said the man in the newly opened door. He came fullyinto the room and closed the door after him. 

'Hello, Courtot, ' answered Barbee colourlessly. 

With an effort Longstreet had withdrawn his analytic faculties from theconsideration of the recent problem that had been solved for him by thecards themselves; now he was busied with collecting them, arrangingthem and getting ready to shuffle. Among the amused eyes watching himhe was conscious of a pair of eyes that were not simply amused, theeyes of Jim Courtot. He looked up and took stock of the new-comer, impelled to something more exhaustive than a superficial interest bythat intangible but potent thing termed personality. This man who hadentered the room in familiar fashion through a back door and a rearroom, was of the magnetic order; were he silent in a gathering oftalking men he must have been none the less a conspicuous figure. Andnot because of any unusual saliency of physical attributes; rather forthat emanation of personality which is like electricity--which, perhaps, is electricity. 

He was tall, thin, very dark; his eyes were of beady blackness; heaffected the sombre in garb from black hat and dark shirt to darkertrousers and black boots. His face was clean-shaven; maybe he had justnow been shaving in the rear room. His age might have lain anywherebetween thirty-five and fifty. There are men like Jim Courtot, of darkvisages and impenetrable eyes, thin and sallow men, upon whom thepassing years appear to work all of their havoc early and then be likevicious stinging things deprived of their stings. 

'For God's sake!' spoke up Barbee, querulously and nervously. 'Are yougoing to shuffle all the spots off? Come alive, Longstreet. '

Longstreet allowed Barbee to cut and began dealing. Jim Courtot, hisstep quick but strangely noiseless, came to the table. His eyes werefor Barbee as he said quietly:

'Just a little game for fun? Any objection if I kick in?'

Barbee frowned. Further, he hesitated--and hesitation played but asmall part in El Joven's make-up. Finally he evaded. 

'Where've you been all this long time, Courtot?' he asked sullenly. 'The biggest game of six years was pulled off down in Poco Poco lastweek and you wasn't there. I heard a man say you must be dead. '

Courtot considered him gravely. Longstreet regarded the man, fascinated. He did not believe that the man knew how to smile. Toimagine Jim Courtot laughing was to fancy a statue laughing. 

'When there's a big game pulled off and I'm not there, kid, ' heanswered when he was good and ready to answer, 'it's because there's abigger game somewhere else. And I'm heeled to play in your little gameif you think you're man enough to take me on. '

Barbee snarled at him. 

'Damn you, ' he said savagely. 

Jim Courtot drew up his chair and sat down. There was a strange sortof swiftness and precision in the man's smallest acts. Now he broughtfrom his hip pocket a handful of loose coins and set the heap on thetable before him. For the most part the coins were gold; he stoodready to put into play several hundred dollars. 

'Heeled, kid, ' he repeated. The voice was as nearly dead andexpressionless as a human voice can be; only the words themselvescarried his insolence. 'Please, can I play in your game?'

To Barbee's youth it was plain challenge and, though he hated the manwith his whole soul, Barbee's youth answered hotly:

'I'll take you on, Jim Courtot, any day. '

Thereafter Courtot ignored Barbee. He turned to Longstreet and watchedhim deal five cards face down. Then he appeared to lose interest ineverything saving his own hand. Longstreet dealt the second fivecards, faces up. They fell in the order of nine, four, jack, ace and, to himself, a seven. He did not believe that the new player had seenany but his own card. Barbee, to whose lot the ace had fallen, placedhis bet. There was bright bitter challenge in his eyes as he staredacross the table at Courtot. 

'Ten bucks to start her off, ' he said shortly. 

Longstreet had supposed it customary to begin with a dollar; in hismind, however, there was little difference between one and ten. Therefore he made no remark and placed his own money in the pot. Thetwo Mexicans tossed their cards away. Courtot, looking at no one, andwithout speaking, came in. Longstreet dealt a second round. NowCourtot had two fours in sight; Barbee had two aces; Longstreet a kingand a seven exposed, but also a king hidden. When Barbee said, 'Twentybucks to play, ' and said it viciously with a jeering stare at Courtot, Longstreet began counting out his money. But before he had completedthe slow process the street door opened. 

It was Alan Howard. He stood a moment on the threshold, his look oneof sheer amazement. He had come looking for Professor James EdwardLongstreet, eminent authority upon certain geological subjects. Hadanyone told him that he would find his man playing stud poker withBarbee and two Mexicans and Jim Courtot----

'Barbee!' he cried out angrily, coming on swiftly until he stood overthe table. 'What in hell's name do you mean by steering Longstreetinto a mess like this?'

'What do _you_ mean?' retorted Barbee hotly. 'What business is it ofyours?'

'I mean Jim Courtot, ' cut in Howard shortly. 'You know better than todrag any friend of mine into a game with him. '

Courtot appeared calm and unconcerned. 

'The bet's made, gents, ' he said briefly. 'Coming in, Longstreet?'

Longstreet looked confused. Before he could frame his answer, Howardmade it for him. And he directed it straight to Courtot. 

'I haven't had time to tell Mr. Longstreet about all of the undesirablecitizens hereabouts, ' he announced steadily. 'No, he's not coming in. '

'I imagine you'll spill an earful when you get going, Alan, ' saidCourtot. 'I'd like to listen in on it. '

Straightway the two Mexicans rose and left the table. Barbee, thoughhe scorned to do so, pushed his chair back a little and kept his eyesupon the faces of the two men. Longstreet went from confusion tobewilderment. Howard considered the matter briefly; then, watching JimCourtot while he spoke, he said crisply:

'Mr. Longstreet, you should get acquainted a bit before you play cardsout here. Jim Courtot there, who plans to rob you the shortest way, isa crook, a thief, a dirty liar and a treacherous man-killer. He'srotten all the way through. '

A man does not fire a fuse without expecting the explosion. On theinstant that Jim Courtot's hand left his pile of coins, Alan Howard'sboots left the floor. The cattleman threw himself forward and acrossthe table almost with his last word. Courtot came up from his chair, ashort-barrelled revolver in his hand. But, before he was well on hisfeet, before the short barrel had made its required brief arc, Howard'sblow landed. With all of his force, with all of the weight of hisbody, he struck Jim Courtot square upon the chin. Courtot went overbackwards, spilling out of the chair that crumpled and snapped andbroke to pieces; his gun flew wide across the room. Howard's impetuscarried him on across the table so that he too fell, and across thebody of the man he had struck. But when Alan got to his feet, JimCourtot lay still and unconscious. And, for one, Longstreet thoughtthat he had seen manslaughter done; the man's look was of death. 

Howard picked up his hat and then what few of the scattered coins hejudged were Longstreet's. Then he took the gaping little man by thearm and led him to the door. 

'Miss Helen wanted you, ' he said as they passed outside. 

'Did you kill him?' Longstreet was shuddering. 

'No, ' was the cool answer. 'But it looks as if I'd have to some day. Better not say anything about this to Miss Helen. '

'Good heavens, no!' ejaculated Longstreet. 'Not a word!'

Chapter IX

Helen Knew

Second only to her father's was Helen's eager interest in the worldabout her. The ride back to Desert Valley through the rich moonlightwas an experience never to be forgotten. She and Howard alone in whatappeared an enchanted and limitless garden of silence and of slumber, their horses' feet falling without noise as though upon deep carpets, the bright moon and its few attendant stars working the harsh land ofthe day over into a soft sweet country of subtle allurement--thepicture of all this was to spring up vivid and vital in many an idlehour of the days to follow. Little speech passed between them thatnight: they rode close together, they forgot the wagon which rocked andjolted along somewhere far behind them; they were content to be contentwithout analysing. And at the end of the ride, when she felt Alan'sstrong hands aiding her from her saddle, Helen sighed. 

The next morning early she and her father left Desert Valley, goingstraight to the professor's destination in the Last Ridge country. They did not see Howard, who had breakfasted and ridden away beforedawn, leaving with the kitchen boy a brief note of apology. The notesaid that his business was urgent and that he would call to see them ina day or so; further that Tod Barstow and Chuck Evans had orders tohaul their goods in the wagon for them and to help them pitch camp. 

Their departure was like a small procession. The wagon, carrying alltheir household goods, went ahead. Longstreet's two pack-horses weretied to the tail end of the wagon and trotted along with slacktie-ropes. Behind them rode the Longstreets upon saddle-horses, whichChuck Evans had brought to the house for them with his employer'scompliments. 

'Al said you was to ride this one, miss, ' said Chuck Evans. 

It was the black mare on which Howard had ridden into their camp thefirst morning--Sanchia or Helen. 

'What is her name?' asked Helen quite innocently when she had mounted. 

Chuck Evans grinned his characteristic happy grin. 

'Funny thing about that mare's name, ' he conceded brightly. 

'What do you mean?' queried Helen. 

'Yesterday, ' he explained, 'I heard Al talking to her down to thestable. He does talk to a horse more'n any man I know, and what's morethey talk back to him. 'S a fact, miss. And what he said was, "Helen, you little black devil, I wouldn't sell you for a couple milliondollars; no, not now. " Calling her Helen, understand?'

'Well?' asked the other Helen. 

'And, ' went on Chuck Evans, 'that mare's been on the ranch six monthsand never did I hear him call her another thing than Sanchia. '

'Sanchia?' she repeated after him. 'What a pretty name!' And then, more innocently than ever, 'I don't think I ever heard the name before. She was named after somebody, I suppose?'

'Sure, ' laughed Chuck. 'After a certain lady known in these parts asMrs. Murray. Her name is Sanchia. '

'Oh!' said Helen. 

'And, ' continued Chuck, 'that ain't all. This morning, just like heknew folks was going to ask her name, he tells me: "Say, Chuck; thishere mare's name, if anyone asks you, is Sweetheart. Don't it justsuit her?" he says. And when you come right down to it----'

'Hey, Chuck, ' called Tod Barstow from his high seat. 'Get a move on. We better get started before it's hot. '

So Chuck Evans departed and Helen sat straight in the saddle, her eyesa little puzzled. When her father rode to her side she was adjusting abluebird's feather in her hatband. The feather, pointing straight up, gave a stiff, almost haughty look to the young woman's headgear. 

They crossed the big meadow, wound for an hour among the little hills, and then began a slow, gradual climb along a devious dusty road. Lessand ever less fertile grew the dry earth under them, more still and hotand hostile the land into which they journeyed. In three hours, jogging along, they came to Last Ridge. 

'There's only one spot up this way that's fit to live in for more'n anhour at the stretch, ' Barstow told them. 'There's a spring and someshade there. We'll drive right under it, and from there up we'll haveto finish the job monkey-style. '

He stopped his horses in a little flat, just under a steep wall ofreddish cliff. Here he and Chuck Evans unhitched and here the horseswere tethered. Helen looked about her curiously, and at first herheart sank. There was nothing to greet her but rock and swelteringpatches of sand and gravelly soil, and sparse, harsh brush. She turnedand looked back toward the sweep of Desert Valley; there she saw greenfields, trees, grazing stock. It was like the Promised Land comparedwith this bleak desolate spot her father had chosen. She turned tohim, words of expostulation forming. But his eyes were bright, hislook triumphant. He had already dismounted and was poking about hereand there, examining everything at hand from a sand-storm stratum atthe cliff's foot to loose dirt in the drifts and the hardy, wiry grassgrowing where it could. Helen turned away with a sigh. 

From here the two Desert Valley men went forward on foot to show themthe spot which Alan Howard had chosen as the most likely site for acamp. They walked to the end of the flat where the reddish, walls shutin; here was an angle of cliff and in the angle was a cleft some threeor four feet wide. They passed into this and found that it offered asteep, winding way upward. But the distance was not great, and in tenminutes they had come to the top. Here again was a level space, a widetableland, offering less of the desert menace and hostility andsomething more of charm and the promise of comfort. For a gentlebreeze stirred here, and off yonder were scattered pines and cedars andin a clump of trees was a ring of verdure. They went to it and saw thespring. It was but a sort of mud-hole of yellowish, thickish water. But water it was, with green grass growing about it and with the shadeof dusty trees over it. Beyond were the strange-shaped uplands, distant cliffs and peaks broken into a thousand grotesque forms, withbands of colour in horizontal strata across them as though they hadbeen painted with a mighty brush. 

'What though I have never been here until this second?' criedLongstreet triumphantly. 'I know it, all of it, every inch andmillimetre of it! I could have made a map of it and laid the coloursin. I have read of it, studied it--I have written of this country!Having been right in everything else, am I to be mistaken in the matterof its minerals? I said give me three months to find gold! Why, it'sa matter to wonder at if I don't locate my mine in three days!'

The two men grinned readily. Before now they had heard men talk withthe gold fever upon them. 

'There's gold pretty near everywhere, ' admitted Barstow, 'if a man canmake it pay. But right now I guess me and Chuck had better startgetting your stuff up the rocks. Suit you all right here for a camp?'

Helen turned and looked toward the south. There, broad and fertilebelow her, running away across the miles, were the Howard acres. Sheeven made out the clutter of head-quarters buildings. Somehow shefancied that the sweep of homely view snatched from these bleak uplandssomething of their loneliness. When her father announced that this wasjust the spot he had longed for, Helen nodded her approval. Here for atime was to be home. 

Throughout the day and until dusk the four of them laboured, makingcamp. Barstow and Evans lugged the various articles, boxes, rolls ofbedding, up through the cleft in the rocks. They had brought in thewagon-bed some loose boards of various sizes; these they made into arough floor. At the four corners of the floor they erected studding oftwo-by-four lumber. These they braced and steadied; they nailed otherlengths of two-by-four material along the tops, outlining walls; theyhacked and sawed and hammered and nailed to such advantage that in theend they had the misshapen frame of a cabin, rafters and all. Thenover the rafters and along the sides they secured the canvas destinedfor the purpose. Doors and windows were canvas flaps; the sheet-ironstove was set up on four flat stones for legs; the stovepipe was runthrough a hole in the roof. And when Chuck Evans and Tod Barstow, amateurs in the carpenter's line, stood back and wiped the sweat offtheir brown faces and looked with fond and prideful eyes at theirhandiwork, Helen and her father were no whit less delighted. 

'If you want more room after a while, ' said Barstow, 'it'd be easy totack more sheds on and run canvas over them, just the same as what wedone. Me and Chuck would come up most any time and lend a hand. '

The breeze stiffened and the crazy edifice shivered. 

'I don't know as I'd make it much bigger, ' said Evans. 'If a real blowcome on and the wind got inside--Say, Tod, how about a few guy ropes?Huh?'

Barstow agreed, and they brought what ropes they had in the wagon and'staked her out, same as if she was a runaway horse, ' as Chuck put it. In other words, they ran one rope from the rear end of the ridge of thehouse to the base of a conveniently-located pine tree; then theysecured the second rope to the other end of the ridge-pole and anchoredit to a big boulder. Meanwhile Helen opened some cans and made coffeeon the newly-adjusted stove and they sat on the grass by the spring andmade their evening meal. After which Barstow and Evans went down totheir wagon and returned to Desert Valley. And James Edward Longstreetand his daughter sat alone upon their camp-stools in front of their newabode and looked off across the valley and into the distances. 

The day departed slowly, lingeringly. The soft night came little bylittle, a misty veil floating into a hollow yonder, a star shining, thebreeze strengthening and cooling. Before the twilight was gone andwhile one might look for miles across the billowing landscapes, theysaw a horseman riding down in the valley; he appeared hardly more thana vague moving dot. And yet----

'It's Mr. Howard!' cried Helen. 

Longstreet withdrew his straining eyes and turned them wonderingly uponhis daughter. 

'How in the world do you know?' he asked. 

Helen smiled, a quiet smile of transcendent wisdom. 

'Oh, I just knew he'd come over. ' she said. 

Chapter X

A Warning and a Sign

John Carr made a special trip back to Desert Valley ranch for a wordwith Howard. He rode hard and there was a look of anxiety in his eyeswhen he came upon his friend smoking thoughtfully in the bigliving-room of the ranch-house. It was late evening and a week afterthe departure of Howard's guests. 

Howard dragged his boot heels down from the table top when he saw whoit was and jumped to his feet his hand outstretched. 

'Hello, John old boy, ' he cried warmly. What's the good wind blowingyou over this way already?'

Carr tossed his hat to the table, drew up a chair for himself and tooka cigar before he answered. Then it was quietly and earnestly. 

'Met up with Jim Courtot the other night, I hear?' he began. 

Howard nodded and waited, his look curious. 

'Well, ' went on Carr, 'I wish you hadn't. He's a treacherous beast ifthis man's land ever cradled one. He's looking for you, Al. '

'He knows where to find me, ' said Alan shortly. And then, 'Just what'sworrying you, Johnnie?'

'I've known Jim for seventeen or eighteen years, ' rejoined Carr. 'He'sa cold, hard, calculating and absolutely crooked proposition. Duringthat time I've never known him to go on a drunk more than two or threetimes. And every time there was trouble. '

'He's drinking now, then?'

'He started in right after you got through with him the other night. And he has been talking. There's no use being a fool!' he cut insternly as Alan shrugged his shoulders. 'Courtot doesn't talk to me, but I've got straight what he has said. He talks to Moraga, and Moragatalks to Barbee, and Barbee passes it on to me. He told Moraga that ifit was the last thing he did, he'd get you. And he is carrying a gunevery step he takes. '

'The more a man talks, the less killing he does, I've noticed, ' saidHoward. But his tone did not carry conviction. Carr frownedimpatiently. 

'He hasn't talked much. He was mad clean through when he made thatcrack to Moraga. I tell you there's no use being a fool, Al. '

'No. Guess you're right, John. Anyway, it was pretty decent of you toride over. '

He got up and went into his bedroom. A moment later he came outcarrying a heavy Colt revolver in one hand, a box of cartridges in theother. The gun was well oiled; the cylinder spun silently and easily;the six chambers were loaded. He put the gun down on the table. 

'I'll ride heeled for a few days, anyhow, ' he decided. 'I guess I canshoot with Jim Courtot yet. '

'Did you ever find out for sure that it was Jim the other time?'

'Sure enough to suit me, ' returned Howard. 'He was in town that night. And it was his style of work to take a pot shot at a man out of thedark. '

'He's not exactly a coward, ' warned Carr. 

'No, not a coward. But that's his kind of work, just the same. Hewould go after a man just as he plays poker--simply to win the surest, quickest, easiest way. Saw Sanchia Murray in town the same day he wasthere. Are they working together again?'

'I haven't seen either one of them. But I guess so. Barbee, poor kid, is trailing after her all the time, and he comes back hating Courtotworse and worse every day. Seen the Longstreets lately?'

Howard admitted that he had. It was only a little way over, hereminded Carr, an hour and a half ride or such a matter, and the oldboy was such a helplessly innocent old stranger, that it didn't seemquite right to turn them adrift altogether. 

'The girl is a pretty thing. ' said Carr. 

'Yes, ' agreed Howard. 'Kind of pretty. '

Carr looked at him steadily. And for absolutely no slightest, vaguestreason in the wide world that he could think of, Alan Howard felt hisface going red. Carr's look probed deeper. Then, with common consent, they turned to other subjects until bedtime. Nothing of businessmatters passed between them, although both remembered that aconsiderable payment was to fall due within ten days. 

In particular Howard had cause to remember. He had recently balancedhis books and had found that he had cut into his last five thousanddollars. Therefore, meaning to pay on the nail, he had arranged a saleof beef cattle. The range was heavily stocked, he had a herd in primecondition, the market was fair, and his system called for a sale soonand the purchase of some calves. Therefore the next morning, beforeCarr was astir, Howard and several of his men were riding toward themore remote fields where his beef herds were. Behind them came thecamp wagon and the cook. 

All day long he worked among his herds, gathering them, sorting them, cutting out and heading back towards the home corrals those underweight or in any way not in the pink of condition for the sale. Hismen rode away into the distances, going east and south, disappearingover the ridges seeking cattle that had strayed far. Howard changedthe horse under him four times that day, and the beast he freed longafter the stars were out was jaded and wet. In the end he threwhimself down upon the hot earth in the shade of the wagon and turnedhis eyes toward the uplands of the Last Ridge. He had had no moment ofhis own to-day, no opportunity to ride for a call on his new friends, and now, after he rested a little and ate, he would go back to workwith his men, night-herding. For the rounded-up cattle were now agreat milling herd that grew greater as the night went on and otherlesser bands were brought in, a stamping, churning mass whosedeep-lunged bellowing surged out continuously across the valleystretches and through the passes of the hills. 

To-morrow, thought Howard, he would ride toward the Last Ridge, takingit upon himself to gather up the straggling stock there, and, purelyincidentally, he would look in upon the Longstreets. He had not seenthem for three days. But the night was destined to bring events toalter his plans. In the first place, some of his cowboys whom he haddispatched to outlying districts of the range to round up the cattlethere had not yet returned, and he and his men here were short-handedin their task of night-herding the swelling numbers of restlessshorthorns. Howard, having had his supper, his cigarette and his briefrest, was saddling his fifth horse to take his turn at a four-hourshift, when he was aware that some one had ridden into camp. And thencame a voice, shouting through the din and the dark:

'Hey, there. Where's Al?'

'Here, ' called Howard. 'Who is it?'

'It's me, ' and Barbee with jingling spurs came on. 'Special deliveryletter for you, old-timer. '

Letters came rarely to Desert Valley, and Howard expected none. But heput out his hand eagerly; he had no reason to think such a thing, butnone the less the conviction was upon him that Helen had written him. His arm through his horse's bridle, he struck a match and took into hishand a scrap of paper. As his peering eyes made out a sweeping, familiar scrawl, he felt a disappointment quite as unreasonable as hadbeen his hope. It was unmistakably from the hand of John Carr, hastilywritten in lead pencil upon the inner side of an old envelope and saidbriefly:

'Better look out for Courtot, Al. He has left Big Run and is headedout your way. --JOHN. '

Howard tore the paper to bits. 

'Where's Carr?' he asked quietly. 'Gone on back?'

Barbee chuckled softly. 

'He was at your place last night, wasn't he? Well, he headed back andgot as far as Big Run. That's where I saw him late this afternoon whenhe give me this for you. About that time I guess he changed his mindabout going home and shifted his trail. He's gone up that way. '

The vague sweep of Barbee's arm indicated a wide expanse of countrylying to the north. When Howard was silent, the boy went on lightlyand perhaps a hint maliciously:

'Get me? Gone to see how the professor and his girl are making out. Keep your eye peeled, Al, or he'll beat you to it. Old John's a sureheller with the women. '

Howard snapped out a curt admonition to Barbee to mind his own businessand flung himself into the saddle. As he spurred away to the outerfringe of his herd he was not thinking over-much of Carr's warning;somehow Barbee's stuck closer in his mind. A spurt of irritation withhimself succeeded that first desire to slap the message-bearer's face. For he knew within his heart that he resented Carr's making himself athome at the Longstreet camp, and he knew that to-night he was anunreasonable beast. Had not Carr once already ridden far out of hisway to warn him? Was there any reason in the wide world why Carrshould not this time send Barbee and himself ride on wherever it suitedhim to go? At that moment Howard would have been glad than otherwiseto have Jim Courtot present himself. 

'Let him start something, damn him, ' he growled savagely to himself, 'any time. ' And he began wondering if now John Carr were sitting withHelen and her father in front of their little home? Or if perhapsLongstreet had gone in to his books, and Carr and Helen alone, sittingquiet under the spell of the night, were looking out into the shiningworld of stars? He cursed himself for a fool and an ingrate. Didn'tCarr have a man's right to ride where he chose? And had he not alreadytwice in twenty-four hours shown how clearly his thought and his heartwere with his friend? A revolver knocked at Howard's side. It wasthere because John Carr had shown him its need. 

Howard's impulse was to stay away from Last Ridge for a little longer. He reasoned that Carr would be invited to stay overnight and wouldnaturally accept the invitation. Why should he not? There is alwaysroom in camp for one more, and no doubt both Helen and her father wouldbe glad of company to break their monotony and loneliness. But beforeHoward had had time for more than an impulse there came the secondepisode of the night to set him thinking upon other matters. 

As he rode he heard several voices and recognized them as those of hisown men. One guffawed loudly and there came the sound of his big handslapping his leg in his high delight; another swore roundly andimpatiently; a third was talking excitedly, earnestly. This third wasSandy Weaver, an old hand, a little man characterized by his gentleeyes and soft voice and known across many miles as an individual inwhom the truth did not abide. All up and down these fringes of thedesert he was known simply as Lying Sandy. 

'What's the excitement, boys?' demanded Howard. 

Sandy wheeled his horse, pressing close to his employer's side, andburst into quick explanation. He had been working with Dave Terrilover on the east side; they had found only a handful of stock there, and Sandy had left them to Dave, and in order to save time for themorrow had circled the valley and combed over the north end, under theLast Ridge cliffs. Just before dark he had made his discovery. Hishorse had found it first, shying and sniffing and then trying to bolt;Sandy was nothing if not circumstantial. 

'We've got some work to do to-night, Sandy. ' cut in Howard shortly. 'If you've got anything to say, go to it. '

'Haw!' gurgled Bandy O'Neil, recently from a California outfit, a manwith a large sense of mirth. 'He's got his prize ring-tailed dandy tospring, Al. Don't choke him off or it'll kill him. '

Sandy hearkened to neither of them, but hastened on. He described thehidden sink in a boulder-ringed draw, the difficulty he had had inbringing his horse to the scene and his own stupefaction. And when hehad done all of this with his customary detail he declared that he hadcome upon a yearling bull, dead as a door nail and slaughtered after afashion that made Sandy's eyes widen in the starlight. 

'It's throat was just sure enough tore all to hell, Al, ' he saidponderously. 'Like something the size of an elephant had gone afterit. And I says to myself it must have been a wolf, and I go lookingfor tracks. And, by the Lord, I found 'em! Tracks like a wolf and thesize of a dinner plate! And alongside them tracks, some other tracks. And they was made by a man and he was barefooted!'

Bandy O'Neil's roar of mirth was a sound to hearken to joyously fromafar. 

'And, ' he cried, dabbing at his tears, 'Sandy would sure take a man bythe mit and lead him to the spot, only just then a big bird, size ofhalf a dozen ostriches, flops down and sinks its claws into that therebull calf and flies right straight over the moon with it! Ain't thatwhat you said, Sandy?'

'You're a fool, Bandy O'Neil, and always will be a fool, ' mutteredSandy Weaver stiffly. 'That same calf is laying right there now, andif you don't believe it or Al don't believe it, I'll bet you a hundredbucks and show you the place as fast as a horse can lay down to it. '

He ran on with his tale, having the end yet to recount. He had headedhis cattle down to meet Dave Terril; he and Dave had swung in togetherand moved still further south to herd in with the boys coming up fromthat direction; and being within striking distance of the ranch-house, Sandy had ridden there alone. 

'I wasn't sure but you might be there, Al, ' he explained. 'And Iwanted to tell you what I saw. I rampsed right in and found somebodywaiting for you. Know who?'

'Carr?' suggested Howard. 

'No, it wasn't. It was Jim Courtot. There wasn't anybody at the housebut old Angela and the Mex kid, and they let him in. He was settingthere waiting, and when I went in the door he come up standing and hehad his gun in his hand and it was cocked. And, Al, he looked mean. '

There was a pause and a silence. Sandy Weaver might be lying, and thenagain he might not. 

'I got nothing against Jim, and it didn't drop on me right then that hewas out to start a row. And, being full of what I saw up there, Ispilled him the yarn. And I wish you could have had a look into thatman's face! He's no albino to speak on, and yet when I got half-waythrough he looked it. His face was as white as a rag and his eyesbulged out like he was scared, and the sweat come out on his head andall over, I guess, and he kept looking over his shoulder all the timelike the devil was after him. And when I showed him what I found onthe rock by the dead calf, he just asks me one question. He says, "Sandy, what way was them tracks pointed?" And when I tells him itlooked like they was pointed this way--well, Jim was gone!'

'You lying devil!' shouted Bandy hilariously. 

But Howard, wondering, demanded:

'What was it you found on the rock, Sandy?'

Sandy yanked it from his pocket. They crowded closer and some onestruck a match. It was a bit of buckskin, and in the buckskin was alittle heap of raw gold. 

Chapter XI

Seeking

Alan Howard got a lantern from the wagon and said briefly to SandyWeaver: 'Show me the place. ' For he knew that for once Weaver was notlying. When together they came to the hollow where the dead calf layhe dismounted, made a light and verified all that had been told him. He saw dimly the track of the bare human foot where Sandy had left itundisturbed; he passed from that to the other tracks. As his cowboyhad said, they resembled a wolf's but were unusually large. As Howardnoted for himself, the front feet had made the larger, deeper imprint;the hind tracks were narrower, longer, less clearly defined. 

'It carries the bulk of its weight up forward, ' he said thoughtfully. 'It would be heavy-chested, big-shouldered, slim in the barrel andsmall in the hips. And it is the same It that made those other tracksby Superstition Pool--where some gent was scared half out of his hideand clean out of any desire to linger or eat supper. '

'What's all that?' demanded Sandy. 'Seen tracks like that before?'

Howard nodded and went back to his horse in silence. And silent heremained during the ride back to camp, despite Sandy's chatter. Foralready he had a vague theory and he was seeking stubbornly to renderthat theory less vague. When they had ridden back to the herd hesingled out Chuck Evans and moved with him out of hearing of the others. 

'Chuck, ' he said soberly, 'I've got a job for you. I've got to go onwith the herd to San Juan and I don't know just when I'll be back. To-morrow you move the extra horses up into the hills; it's time, anyway, to feed off the grass in the cañons. And I want you to keep intouch with the Longstreets. At night-time make your camp withincalling distance of theirs. And keep your eyes and ears open. '

'I get you, ' said Chuck, 'only I don't. What's going to hurt them?'

'Nothing that I know of. But I want you on the job. I don't quitelike the idea of the old professor and his daughter being out therealone. ' And that was all the explanation he gave. 

The next afternoon the drive began. Sitting a little aside as his menstarted the slow procession toward the San Juan trail, Howard watchedhis carefully bred cattle go by and drew from the moment a full senseof success achieved. As they crowded by in bellowing scores heestimated that they were going to net him above ten thousand dollars, and that every cent of that ten thousand was going to John Carr as aworth-while payment upon Desert Valley. From his own funds in the bankHoward would draw for the purchase of his calves and for runningexpenses. He would be close-hauled again, but he would have earned along breathing spell. As the tail-enders pushed by him he dropped inbehind them to be engulfed in the rising clouds of dust and to do hisown part of his own work. 

The wagon had gone ahead to the place appointed for to-night's camp. Since the herd was large, while days were hot and water-holes scarce, Howard had planned the devious way by Middle Springs, Parker's Gulch, the end of Antelope Valley, across the little hills lying to the northof Poco Poco and on into San Juan by the chain of mud-holes where theold Mexican corrals were. Hence, he counted upon being at least fourdays on the road to San Juan. There his responsibilities would cease, as there the buyers had promised to meet him, taking the herd on intothe railroad. 

During the days which followed he was as busy as a man should care tobe, for the task of moving a large herd across a dry and baking countryand through it all keeping the cattle in first-class condition, is nosmall one. And busy in mind was he when the stars were out and campwas pitched. He lay with his head on his saddle, his pipe in histeeth, his thoughts withdrawn from his business of stock-selling andcentred elsewhere. The second night out the boys noted a change in AlHoward; the third night they asked one another 'what had come over theold man. ' For whereas formerly his had always been the gayest voicearound the camp fire, his the tongue to spin a yarn or start a cowboyballad, now he withdrew after a silent supper and threw himself down onthe ground and stared at the stars, his thoughts his own behind thelocked guard of his shut teeth. 

'He's figgering on something--hard, ' said Dave Terril. 'Might be aboutJim Courtot. '

'Or them tracks, ' suggested Sandy Weaver. 'The barefoot's and thegigantic wolf. '

'Or, ' put in a chuckling voice from the shadows, 'a girl, huh? Havingtook a good look at old man Longstreet's girl, I wouldn't blame Alovermuch. '

By the time the adobe walls of picturesque San Juan swam into viewacross the dry lands Alan Howard had at least reshaped and clarifiedhis theory of the tracks, had made up his mind concerning Jim Courtotand had dreamed through many an hour of Helen. As to Helen, he meantto see a very great deal of her when he returned to Desert Valley. Asto Jim Courtot, he meant to end matters one way or another without anygreat delay. For to a man of the type of Alan Howard the presentcondition was unbearable. He knew that Courtot was 'looking for him';that Courtot had gone straight to the ranch-house and had sat down withhis gun in front of him, waiting for Howard's step on the porch; thatwhen the first opportunity arose Jim Courtot would start shooting. Itwas not to his liking that Courtot should have things all his way. Thegambler would shoot from the dark, as he had done before, if he had thechance. That chance might come to-night or a year from now, andconstant expectancy of this sort would, soon or late, get on a man'snerves. In short, if Courtot wanted to start something, Howard fullymeant to have it an even break; if Courtot were looking for him hecould expedite matters by looking for Courtot. 

As to his theory of the tracks; he connected them, too, with JimCourtot. He knew that for the past three months Courtot haddisappeared from his familiar haunts; these were La Casa Blanca, JimGalloway's gambling-house in San Juan, and similar places in Tecolote, Big Run, Dos Hermanos and San Ramon. He knew that only recently, within the week, Courtot had returned from his pilgrimage; that he hadcome up to Big Run from King Cañon way. He knew that the man who hadfled Superstition Pool had turned out in the direction of King Cañon, and that that man might or might not have been Jim Courtot. Finally, he had Sandy Weaver's word for it that Courtot went deathly-white whenhe heard of the slain calf and the tracks, and that forthwith Courtothad again disappeared. The imprint of a man's bare foot spelled anIndian from the northern wastes, and Courtot, during the three monthsof his disappearance, had had ample time to go far into the north. ToHoward it seemed a simple thing to imagine that Courtot had committedsome deed which had brought after him the unsleeping vengeance of adesert Indian. 

In San Juan Howard found a representative of Doan, Rockwell and Haight, the cattle buyers, awaiting him; and the same day the deal wascompleted, a cheque placed in his hands and the cattle turned over tothe buyers' drivers. His men he dismissed to their own devices, knowing that they would amuse themselves in San Juan, perhaps stir up afight with a crowd of miners, and thereafter journey homeward, fullycontent. They were not to wait for him, as he had business to delayhim a day or so. From the corrals he went to the bank, placing hischeque for collection with his old friend, John Engle. Thereafter, while his horse rested and enjoyed its barley at the stables, he turnedto the Casa Blanca. For it was always possible that Jim Courtot wasthere. 

As he stepped in at the deep, wide doorway Howard's hat was low-drawn, its brim shading his eyes, and he was ready to step swiftly to right orleft, to spring forward or back, to shoot quickly if shooting were inthe cards. But he knew upon the moment that Courtot was not here. Atthe bar were his own men ranged up thirstily; they saw him and calledto him and had no warning to give. So he passed on down the long roomuntil he stopped at a little table where three men sat. One of them, athick, squat fellow with a florid face and small mean eyes, looked upat him and glowered. 

'Where's Courtot, Yates?' asked Howard coolly. 

Yates stared and finally shrugged. 

'Left town day before yesterday, ' he replied shortly. 

'So he was here? I heard he wanted to see me. Know which way he hasgone?'

Yates studied him keenly. Then again he lifted his ponderous shoulders. 

'He was looking for you, ' he said, his meaning clear in the hardness ofhis eyes. 'And, if you want to know, he's up Las Palmas way. '

'That happens to be lucky, ' Alan told him, turning away. 'I'm going upthere now to look at some calves in French Valley. If I happen to misshim and you see him you can tell him for me that I'm ready to talk withhim any time. '

He went out in dead silence. Many eyes followed him, many eyes whichwhen his tall form had passed through the door came back to other eyesnarrowed and thoughtful. For Alan Howard was well known here in SanJuan, and never before had a man of them seen him wearing a gun at hiship. There were bets offered and taken before he was half-way to thestable. His own men, hearing, were thoughtful and said nothing. Allexcept Bandy O'Neil, who smashed his big fist on the bar and staredangrily into the florid face of Yates and cried out loudly that JimCourtot was a card sharp and a crook and that Jim Courtot's friendswere as Jim Courtot. Yates for the third time shrugged his thickshoulders. But his look was like a knife clashing with the cowboy's. 

Though it was dusk when he resaddled and Las Palmas was twenty-fivemiles away, Howard's impatience hastened him on. It appeared thatCourtot had made up his mind and, further, was publishing the factacross a wide sweep of country. Then there was no going back for himand Courtot, and like a man borne along in a swift current whichoffered rapids ahead, he was afire to get them behind him. If Courtotwere still in Las Palmas he would find him to-night. 

But again, at the end of a tedious ride, he learned that the man hesought had come and gone. No one knew just where, but at the onelodging-house which the little settlement possessed, it was hinted thatCourtot had headed still further north, perhaps to Los Robles. Howardwent to bed that night wondering what it was that impelled the gamblerto this hurried travelling across the land. Was it something thatlured and beckoned? Was it something that drove and harassed? Hislast thoughts were of the tracks he had seen by a dead calf and of thetale Sandy Weaver had told. 

Early the next morning he rode out to French Valley for a look at TonyVaca's calves. They proved to be about what he had expected of them, close to a hundred, of mixed breeding, but for the most part goodbeef-making stock in fair condition and all under a year old. Vaca wasshort of pasture this year, hence, he declared, forced to sell at abargain. Howard nodded gravely, considered briefly, and in ten minutesbought the herd, agreeing to take them at ten per cent. Less thanTony's bargain price provided they were delivered in Desert Valleywithin a week. 

Now all of his business of buying and selling was done and thereremained but to go home or to look further for Courtot. He rode backinto Las Palmas and breakfasted at the lunch counter. There he learnedthat Courtot had probably gone on up to Quigley, another twenty-fivemiles to the north-east. And, very largely because of the geographicallocation of Quigley, Howard decided on the instant to continue at leastthat far his quest. For, coming the way he had from his ranch, he haddescribed a wide arc, almost a semicircle, and by the same trail, should he retrace it, was a hundred and fifty miles from Desert Valley. But, if he went on to Quigley, a mining-town in the bare mountains, hewould be at the mouth of Quigley Pass, which led to a little-used trailthrough the mountains and almost in a straight line across the arm ofthe desert known locally as the Bad Lands. Though he had never crossedthese weary, empty miles, and though there were no towns and fewwater-holes within their blistered scope, Howard judged that he couldsave close to fifty miles of the return trip. So he slipped his footinto the stirrup and swung out toward Quigley, hopeful of findingCourtot and confident of a short cut home. 

Chapter XII

The Desert Supreme

Considerably to his surprise Howard found absolutely no trace ofCourtot in Quigley. He inquired at the pool room, at the restaurant, at the stable. No one had seen the gambler for several months. Itstruck the cattleman as strange that a man should have ridden out ofLas Palmas, taking the Quigley trail, and not have come to Quigley. Where else could a man go? On the west lay the desert, on the east theLava Mountains and beyond the desert again, and it was a far call toany settlement or habitation. Even the sheepmen did not come up thisway; only the Quigley mines brought men here, and yet Courtot had notcome to Quigley. 

'He turned out somewhere, ' mused Howard, 'the Lord knows what for orwhere. But it's his business, and I'm going home. '

He gave his horse an hour in the stable while he himself made ready forhis short cut across the Bad Lands. The preparations were simple; atthe store he bought a small pack of provisions, enough to last himthree or four days at a pinch and in case of accidents; he filled hiscanteen; he spent half an hour with the grizzled old storekeeper, whoin his time had been a prospector and who knew the country hereaboutsas only an old prospector could know it. On a bit of wrapping-paperthe old fellow sketched a trail map that indicated the start throughthe Pass, the general direction and the chief landmarks, theapproximate mileage and--here he was very exact and accompanied hissketch with full verbal instructions--the few water-holes. 

'You can make it all right, Al, ' he said when Howard slipped the paperinto his vest pocket. 'It's no trick for a man like you. But Iwouldn't send a tenderfoot in there, not unless I wanted to make himover into a dead tenderfoot. And, mind you, every year some of themwater-holes dries up; the only ones you can count on for sure are theones I've marked with a double ring that way. So long. '

'So long, ' said Alan, and went for his horse. 

The forenoon was well advanced when he rode into the mouth of thenarrow pass which gives access, above the mines, into the LavaMountains and through them into the Bad Lands. In twenty minutes hehad entered a country entirely new to him. He looked about him withinterested eyes. Never, he thought as he pushed forward, had he knownuntil now the look of utter desolation. The mountain flanks werestrewn with black blocks and boulders of broken lava and were alreadyincredibly hot; underfoot was parched earth upon which it seemed thatnot even the hardiest of desert grasses cared to grow; yonder the BadLands stretched endlessly before him, blistering mounds of rock, wind-drifted stretches of burning sand, dry gulches and gorges whichone's wildest imagining could not fill with rushing waters. Here andthere were growing things, but they were grey with desert dust andlooked dead, greasewood dwarfed and wind-twisted, iron-fanged cactisnarling at the clear hot sky and casting no more shade than lean poles. 

'A man won't find his trail all cluttered up with folks in here, 'thought Howard. 'Wonder who was the last man to poke his fool noseinto this bake-oven. Whew, it's hot. '

Hotter it grew and drier and, though such a thing had not seemedpossible, altogether more repellent and hostile to life. He climbed aridge to get his bearings and to locate in the grey distance the blackpeak which the storekeeper had indicated on his map as the firstlandmark and steering-point. He found it readily enough, a dozen milesoff to the south-west, and jogged down the gentle slope toward it, hishat drawn low to shield his burning eyes. Within an hour theimpression obtruded itself upon his fancies that about him the worldwas dead. He did not see a jack-rabbit or a slinking coyote or a bird;not even a buzzard, that all but ubiquitous, heat-defying bundle of dryfeathers and bones, hung in the sky. Why should a rabbit come hitherwhere there was no herbage? Why a coyote when his prey shunned thesewastes? Why even the winged scavenger when all animal life fled theBad Lands? The man's spirit was oppressed and drooped under theweariness of the weary land. 

It was a tedious day, and more than once he regretted that he had takenthis trail; for it seemed likely, as is so often the case, that thelong way round was the short way home. But he was in for it, andplugged ahead, longing for the cool of evening. About noon he foundthe first water-hole and, what was more, found water in it. It wasugly, hot stuff, but his horse trotted to it with ears pricked forwardand nostrils a-twitch and drank long and thirstily. Thereafter, thoughthey came to other spots where there should be water, they found noneuntil after sunset. Howard drew off the saddle, gave his horse ahandful of barley and staked it out close to the spring. Then he madehis own dinner, had his smoke and threw himself down for a couple ofhours' rest and dozing. It was his intention to travel on in the nightto the next spring, which was some ten miles farther on and which, because of its location in the centre of a cluster of hills alreadyclear against the skyline, he was sure he could not miss. It was oneof the map's double-ringed water-holes. 

His horse finished its drink and its barley. He heard it shake itselfas a horse does after its sweaty work is done. Without turning hishead he knew where it was going to lie down for a roll. Now he didturn a little, seeing through the coming dimness of night the four legswaving in air as the beast struggled to turn over on its back. It wasa new horse, one he had purchased some weeks ago with a number ofothers and had not ridden until now; he recalled how, when a boy, hehad shared other youngsters' superstition in connexion with a horserolling. If it went clean over, it was worth a hundred dollars, if itrolled back, another hundred, and so on. 

But this animal did not complete the one effort. Howard heard itssudden terrified snort, saw it scramble wildly to its feet and goplunging off to the end of its tether, knew that even the strong ropehad broken and the horse was running wild. And as the man jumped tohis feet he knew why. For before the snort of fear he had heardanother sound, one indescribable to him who has not heard it andunforgettable and on the instant recognizable to him who has; thatquiet noise resembling as much as anything else the harsh rustling ofdead, bone-dry leaves. As he ran forward, Howard prayed in his heartthat the snake's fangs had not met in horseflesh. 

Because the light was not all gone and he knew just where to look, hesaw the rattler slipping away across the sand. He thrust his gun downas close as he dared and with the first shot blew the sinister, flathead off the ugly thick body. Then he went forward, calling soothinglyto his horse. 

Had it been any one of the horses he rode customarily, his voice mighthave carried something of quiet to startled nerves. But as it was thehorse was frightened, it was free, it was running and the broken end ofthe tie-rope, whipping at its heels, put fresh terror into it. Howardsaw it dimly as it crested a ridge a few hundred yards off; then itsvague shape was gone, swallowed up in the night. He hurried after itover the ridge. The stars showed him empty spaces of billowy sand;there were black spots marking hollows and nowhere his horse. But yethe went forward hopefully or at least striving to retain his hope. Hehad little liking for the plight that would be his were he set afoothere in the heart of the Bad Lands. But at the end of upwards of anhour of fruitless search he went back to the water-hole and his traps, seeing the folly of further seeking now. He would have to camp hereuntil daybreak. Tomorrow he might find his horse and might or mightnot recapture it; to-morrow he might see the poor beast lying dead andhorribly swollen; to-morrow he might find in the empty desert nothingbut emptiness. For to-night there was nothing better to do than makehis bed and go to sleep under the stars and thank God for food andwater. 

At the first pale glint of the new day he was astir. With sleep stillheavy in his eyes he hurried back to the ridge over which his horse hadgone. As he was pretty well prepared to expect, there was no horse insight. He waited for the light to brighten, probing with eager eyesinto the distances. Swiftly the sky filled to the coming day; theshadows withdrew from the hollows, the earth stood forth, naked andclearly revealed. Save for himself, feeling dwarfed in this immensity, there was no living thing within the scope of his vision. He shook hishead and turned back to camp and breakfast, frowning grimly. He wouldhave to walk out of this mess, and like any twelve cattlemen out of adozen he had little love of walking. 

While he ate his morning meal he turned matters over in his mind. Hesaw that he could look forward confidently to a couple of unpleasantdays. He did not anticipate any difficulty beyond that of theirksomeness of being obliged to trudge something like fifty miles inthe sun. He knew that he would waste no end of time trying to trackthe vanished horse across such a land as this; he saw onlyfoolhardiness in leaving the trail he had had picked out for him and, with little food and no knowledge of water, turning out across anutterly unknown land of forbidding desolation. He judged roughly thatDesert Valley was as near as Quigley. Hence, having filled his canteenand tied his provisions into a bundle, he slung the two over hisshoulders, left his saddle where it was and turned his face toward thehome range. 

Despite his determination to get an ugly task over and done with, hewas a full four hours making the first ten miles. He walked as swiftlyas he might to take the full advantage of the lesser heat of theearlier hours, but his way led him through loose sand, down into cutsand gorges, up their steep sides, across fields of loose stones, which, shifting underfoot, made his striving for haste a pure work ofTantalus. At the end of the first hour the heat was already intense;at the end of the second he felt that his skin was as dry as the desertsands and that the moisture of his body was being sucked out of it bythe thirsty air and that at every stride the day grew drier and hotter. Thirst clutched his throat, ached throughout his body, that thirstwhich is like no other, desert thirst. Again and again he drank fromhis canteen. When he ploughed up the slope of the little hills andthen down into their hollow to the double-ringed spring, his canteenwas half empty. And when at last he came to the spring itself he foundit as dry as a last year's seedpod. 

Until this instant the day's adventure had been merely the acme ofunpleasantness. Now something more sinister entered into it. He madecertain that he had found the place where the water-hole should be. Then he sat down. His eyes were very grave. 

'If I don't play this hand right, ' he told himself solemnly, 'I'llnever get out of this. '

He found a few breast-high bushes and crawled into their thin shade andlay down; before him he spread out the Quigley storekeeper's map. Thishe studied with thoughtful eyes. The storekeeper had said it would beno trick at all for a man like Howard to make the trip, but he hadmeant Howard on horseback. On foot it became quite another matter. The next spot where he should find water was some twenty miles ahead ofhim; at the rate he had travelled this morning it would take him someeight hours to come to it. Further, at the rate he had drank from hiscanteen this morning, that canteen would be empty when he had gone halfthe distance. Clearly, he must drink less water, just half what he haddrank during the last four hours. Clearly also, it would grow hotterand he would want more instead of less water. Clearly again--and herewas the point of points--when he came to the twenty-mile-distantwater-hole, it too might be dry. And, after that, there was notanother spring for another twelve or fifteen miles. Yes, many thingswere clear. 

He sat up and rolled a cigarette; he sat still while he smoked it. Here was plainly a time for cool thinking; he would take all of thetime that he needed to be sure that he had decided correctly. Forlater there might be no minute to squander. At present he had bothfood and water. At present he could go on or turn back. There waswater where he had left his saddle; he could count on that positivelyand could get to it before he had emptied his canteen. But, if insteadhe went forward, there could be no turning back. He studied his mapagain. So far as he could make out from it, it was as well to go on asto retreat. So, putting his paper into his pocket he took up his foodand water, made certain of his bearings and went on. It was a gamble, but a gamble his life had always been, and a fair gamble, an evenbreak, is all that men like Alan Howard ask. He realized with a fullmeasure of grimness that never until now had he placed a wager likethis one; he was betting heavily and he knew not against what odds thatat the end of twenty miles he would find water. 

Hour after hour he trudged on. His feet burned; they ached; his bootsmade blisters and the blisters broke. Always he was thirsty with athirst which his whole supply of water could not have slacked and whichgrew steadily more acute. Now and then he paused briefly and dranksparingly. His bundle of food, small as it was, grew heavy; his feetwere heavy; only his canteen seemed to him lighter and lighter. A hotwind rose, blowing direct into his face, flinging at him fine particlesof burning sand that sifted through his clothing and got into hisboots, torturing further his tortured feet; the wind seared hiseyeballs and threatened to blind him. He lifted his head, selected adistant landmark, sought to shelter his eyes with the broad brim of hishat and went on. 

Noon found him plunging down the steep bank of a dry gulch, a hideousgash in the breast of the hideous land. He found a spot where therewas a little shade under a clump of bushes growing upon the bank'sedge. He ate a little of his dried beef; he treated himself to half adozen big, slow swallows of water; then he lay and rested for half anhour. Again he rose; he moistened his mouth and lips, shut his teethhard together as he took the first step upon swollen feet; again hewandered monotonously through a monotonous land. There was no wind nowsave, infrequently, frolicsome little whirlwinds which danced about himand were gone. When he found that their play angered him, that theyseemed to mock at his weariness and dying energies, he frowned. Thiswas no time and here was no place for nerves. 

In the late afternoon, after having laboured all day through a hell oftedium and distress, he came to the water-hole. He marked it from afarby its dusty willows; he wondered if this time he would find water. Itstruck him that he must. He began to walk faster; he curbed a headydesire to break into a run. As it was, he came slowly, steadily to thespot. And there was no water. He would not believe it. He walkedalong the line of willows, looking carefully everywhere. And not untilhe had looked everywhere did he give up. Oddly, his compelling want atthe moment was less for a drink than for a smoke. He began rolling acigarette. Half-way through the brief task he desisted, returning thethimbleful of tobacco to its sack. For the hot smoke would merely dryout further his already dry mouth. 

He lay down in what shade he could find and estimated very carefullythe amount of water in his canteen. He weighed the vessel in his hand;he unscrewed the top and held it so as to look into it. 

'I've got about three cupfuls, ' he told himself. 

Again he studied his map. Again he ate sparingly and thereafter took asip of water. He screwed the top on quickly and tightly, jealous evenof a drop which might evaporate in this sponge-air. He stood up, knowing that he must not loiter. For each second his thirst wouldincrease as the arid air took the moisture forth through the pores ofhis body. Before he had moved a step forward he saw a man comingtoward him. He laughed outright, a laugh of suddenly relieved nerveswhich had been very tense. That man would have water and would knowwhere other water was to be found. 

The man came neither from the direction of Quigley nor yet of DesertValley. Rather he was coming in from the north, would cut Howard'strail almost at right angles. He was on foot. Howard wondered atthat. Further, the man had a strange way of walking. He was halfnaked and about his head a dark cloth was tied. He trotted a fewsteps, seemed to hesitate and balance, he came on head down. Somethingseemed to get in the way of his feet; he stumbled, caught himself, stumbled a second time and fell on his face. He got to his hands andknees, slowly rose to his feet and came on, walking crazily. ThenHoward understood. The man was an Indian or a half-breed and he wasdying of thirst. 

Chapter XIII

A Son of the Solitudes

Wonderingly Howard watched the man come on. For a moment he believedthat the new-comer had gone both mad and blind. For the roving eyeswere terrible to look into, black pools of misery, and the mouth wasdistended and the stumbling feet did not turn aside for scrub-brush orrock. From the waist up the gaunt coppery body was naked; of a raggedpair of overalls held up by a rawhide thong one leg was gone; the feetwere bare. 

'Hey there, _compañero_, ' called Howard. 'Where are you going?'

It was no longer a question of breed or Indian now. Despite the grimethat made a mask over the face the features were unmistakably those ofa pure-bred Hopi; the shape of the body that of the desert Indian. Hehad the small shoulders, the thin arms and the powerful iron legs ofhis people. He was passing only a dozen steps from Howard. He stoppedat the sound of the voice, stared wildly and then sagged on by. Howardcalled again and then followed, bewildered. The Indian fell twicebefore he came to the spot where there should be water. Here he wentdown on his stomach, putting his face down as though to drink. Howardheard him groan when the bleared eyes saw that instead of water therewas but blazing hot sand. The Indian made no other sound but merelyrolled over on his back and lay very still, eyes shut, jaw dropping, hands lax at his sides. 

'You poor devil!' muttered Howard. 

He came to the prostrate figure. Now he noted that from thestring-belt there hung at one hip a little buckskin bag; it might haveheld a handful of dried meat. Tied at the other hip was a bundle offeathers that made gay colour against the grey monotony, feathers ofthe bluebird, the redbird, blackbird and dove. Scabbardless, tied witha bit of thong close to the feathers, was a knife with a long blade. 

The Indian's chest heaved spasmodically; his breath came in dry gasps. Howard stooped over him and called to him softly. The eyes flew openand, after a heavy gathering of the brows bespeaking the effort made, focussed upon Howard's. 

'_Agua_, ' pleaded the swollen lips. 

Howard took up a sardine tin, the contents of which he had eaten whilehe rested, and, very careful not to spill a drop of the pricelessfluid, poured it half full from his canteen. Then he knelt and put anarm about the gaunt body, lifting it a little, offering the water tothe broken lips. Now he noted that the cloth about the black head ofhair was stained with blood. 

He had expected the man to drink thirstily. Instead, manifesting adisplay of will power such as the white man had never seen, the Indiantook the water slowly, held it a moment in his mouth, swallowed it dropby drop. 

'More, ' he said when the tin was emptied. 

Again Howard filled it. Now the Indian sat upright alone and drank. Afterwards he looked at Howard with a long, piercing regard. A secondtime he said 'More. '

Howard with his finger indicated how low his water was. 

'Not much water, _compañero_, ' he said quietly. 'Pretty soon all gone. '

'No more?' queried the Indian sharply. 

Howard poured out the third small tin; altogether he was giving thepoor devil only about a cupful when a quart would have been allinadequate. Again the keen black eyes that seemed clearer now and likea bird's probed at him. Again and as before, the Indian drank. 

'Me Kish Taka, ' he announced slowly and with a certain dignity. 'Comefar, head hurt, much sick, much blood. Pretty soon, no water, die. Now, pretty good. '

Howard grunted. That a man in this fellow's shape should declarehimself as being 'pretty good' was worth any man's snort. He looked asthough he would be dead in ten minutes as he lay back and shut hiseyes. With his eyes still shut, the Indian spoke again:

'You _sabe_ other water-hole?'

'No. I found it dry. '

'Kish Taka _sabe_ water-hole. Sleep now, damn tired, damn hot, headsick. Sun go down, get cold, Kish Taka go there, you come, get water. '

'Where?' demanded Howard quickly. 'How far?' For he was half inclinedto believe that if Kish Taka went to sleep now he would never wake. 

The long, thin arm pointed out to the south-west. 

'Not too far, ' he said. 'Two big high mountain, some tree, waterthere. Maybe twenty-five mile. '

'Good God!' exclaimed Howard. 'Twenty-five miles! Might as well be athousand!'

The Indian did not answer. He was breathing regularly, his lips wereclosed. For five minutes Howard stood looking down upon him and thenhe tiptoed a few yards away; Kish Taka was evidently asleep. Howardset his canteen down in the shade of a bush, found another bush forhimself, and lay as the Indian was lying, on his back, relaxing hisbody. He did not regret having shared his water with an Indian, but hewondered why his destiny at this time of need had sent to him anotherthirsty mouth. Further, he allowed himself to wonder soberly if hewould ever see his green fields again. He measured his chances with asteady mind, and in the end his mouth grew sterner. 

'If I've got to cash in this way, ' he muttered as his own sort ofprayer, 'I hope I can be as game about it as Kish Taka. '

It struck him that in one thing the Indian was wise. It was as well torest now until after sunset and then to start on again in what coolnessthe evening might afford. Further, it was not in him now to get up andsling his canteen on his back and go on, leaving the fellow wayfarerwhom his fate had given him. He would try to sleep a little, though hehad little enough hope of coaxing the blissful condition of rest andunconsciousness to him. But, physically tired, lulled by the greatstillness, it was but a few minutes when he, too, slept heavily. 

He woke and sat up. The day had gone, the stars were out, the air wascool against his cheek. He got to his feet and went to the spot wherehe had left the Indian, half expecting to find the man dead. Insteadhe found no man at all. He looked about him; there was light enough tosee objects at a considerable distance. The desert seemed, as it hadseemed all day, empty. He called and got no answer. It was obviousenough that Kish Taka had rested, waked, gone on. 

'Got thirsty, ' grunted Howard, 'and just trotted over to a spring onlytwenty-five miles off for a drink! That's the Indian for you. '

His own thirst sprang out upon him, clutching him by the throat. Hestepped to the bush where he had left his canteen and groped for it. When he did not find it, he looked elsewhere, supposing that he hadmade a mistake in the bush. When the truth dawned upon him his wholebody grew rigid, he stood motionless, even for a little his lungssuspended their function. His hands clenched; for some reason andapparently without any act of his will, they were lifted slowly untilthey were above his head. Then they came down slowly until they wereat his sides, still clenched hard. It was his only gesture. He didnot speak aloud. Again he stood still. But through his heart and souland brain, sweeping upward and upward, came such a flood of rage as hehad never known. And with it, born of it, came rushing the frenziedcraving to kill. At last came his dry whisper:

'I am going to last long enough to kill you, Kish Taka, and may Goddamn your soul!'

One hand took up his little bundle of food; the, other dropped to thebutt of his revolver. He went swiftly to the spot where he had leftthe Indian whom he had thought half dead. He estimated again and withgreat care the direction which the lean leathery hand had indicated asthe direction of water. Then, walking swiftly, he struck out into thedesert. Here was not the way to Desert Valley, not the way to Quigley. But here was the path for one man to follow when he sought another manwho had wronged him. The fact that his chances of coming up with theIndian were few did not deter the cattleman; the obscurity of night onthe desert did not give him halt or hesitation. The name of his wrathburned high and hot in his brain and in its lurid light he saw hisdesire fulfilled. Had one tried at the moment to reason with him, Howard would have cursed him and gone on. His anger had spurted up ina brain already mad with the torture of thirst. 

And yet that brain was clear enough to guide him in the way he wouldgo. He studied the stars, found the north and set his coursepainstakingly. Presently he began to walk less hurriedly, bentsavagely upon reserving his strength. When there was some object aheadset visibly against the skyline, a hillock or a clump of bushes, helaid his course by it, checking again and again by the stars. When hehad walked an hour he stopped and rested, lighting a match to look athis watch. He allowed himself exactly five minutes and floundered upand went on again. Doggedly he sought to shut his mind to the painstabbing through his weary feet, to the constriction of his throat, tothe ache of his body so sorely and so long punished. When, had mattersbeen different, he might have cried out: 'God, for a drink!' he nowmuttered dully, 'God, put him into my two hands !'

The fine, delicate machinery of a human brain, like any man-mademechanism of great nicety, may readily be thrown into confusion, itsexquisite balance disturbed, its functioning confounded. Thirst, near-exhaustion, severe bodily distress and, on top of all, blood-lustanger made Alan Howard over into another man. He was possessed, obsessed. As the night wore on endlessly he created for himselfvisions; he came a thousand times upon the Indian; he sank his fingersand thumbs into a corded throat; he beat with his fists at the pulp ofa face. He grew accustomed to his own voice, muttering ceaselessly. He heard himself praying as another man; the burden of his prayers wasalways the same: 'Deliver him, O Lord, into mine hands. ' He was halfmad for water and he cursed Kish Taka; he drove his body on when theagonized muscles rebelled and, driving mercilessly, he cursed Kish Taka. 

Somehow the night passed and through it he staggered on. He fell as hehad seen the Indian fall; he recalled that the Indian had arisen and herose. Each time that he failed in something that he tried to do it wasas though an imp jeered and taunted him, calling to him: 'Ho! TheIndian is a better man. He is off there in the darkness, laughing atyou!'

There came a time when he stumbled at every step, when he pitchedforward frequently and lay inert and had to gather his strength to getup; when he wondered if he was going mad or if already he had gone mad;when his thirst was a killing agony and he knew that it was in truthkilling him; when he crawled on his hands and knees up slight slopes;when the stars danced and he frowned at them stupidly, seeking theNorth Star, seeking to know which way led to Kish Taka. When the firstfaint glint of dawn sweetened the air he was lying on his back; hefelt, rather than saw, that a new day was blossoming. He collected hiswandering faculties, fought with the lassitude which stole upon himwhenever his senses were not on the alert and sat up. And he wouldhave cried out aloud at what he saw were not his throat and mouth andlips so dry that he was beyond calling out. For yonder, a blurredmoving shape came toward him. The shape was a man's, and he knew thatit was Kish Taka. 

Somehow he got to his feet, somehow he dragged his revolver out of itsholster, somehow he took a dozen tottering steps forward. He saw thatKish Taka had seen him and had stopped; that the Indian carried hiscanteen; that he was moving again. Howard lifted his gun, holding itin both hands. He was afraid that even now his quarry would escapehim, that Kish Taka would run and that he could not follow. Hisfingers found the trigger and pressed it as he sought to hold thewavering muzzle steady. There was a loud report that seemed to tearhis brain to broken shreds, his arms dropped lax at his sides, therevolver fell, its muzzle burying itself in the sand. His knees saggedand he went down, settling slowly. As he fell he saw that Kish Takawas running--but not away from him. Running like a deer was Kish Taka, running straight to the fallen man. 

For the first time in his life, Howard fainted, The pink dawn wentblack in his eyes, his brain reeled, the booming as of a distant surffilled his ears and then unconsciousness engulfed him. When he, knewanything at all it was that he was sitting up, that two thin brown armswere about his body, that water was trickling down his throat. 

Chapter XIV

The Hate of the Hidden People

When Alan Howard fully understood, he felt his face go red with shame. There was in his soul something akin to timidity as he put his handforth for the hand of Kish Taka. And when the Indian nodded gravelyand gave his own hand, the white man's fingers locked about it hard. Still East was East and West was West, and again had two strong men metfrom the ends of earth. 

'I have horses and cows and houses and corn, ' said Howard, speakingslowly and simply that the Indian might understand clearly. 'What Ihave is my brother's. When Kish Taka wants a friend, let him come downinto Desert Valley and call to Alan Howard. '

The beady, bird-like eyes were void of expression as Kish Taka regardedhim steadily. The Indian did not so much as nod again. Like thedesert that had mothered him and his progenitors, he had the tricks ofsilence and of inscrutability. 

From the few words which the Indian had spoken and from his ownsuddenly altered estimate of his new companion, Howard came tounderstand fully the amazing act which Kish Taka had performed duringthe night. The Indian had been near the limits of his strength andendurance when the white man had given him generously of his water. Kish Taka had drank sparingly and, because he was desert-bred andbecause the stock from which he was sprung was desert-bred, his bodilystrength had returned to him. He slept; Howard slept. But the Indianwoke, somewhat refreshed, in half an hour. He understood that in thecanteen there was not water for both. He promptly drank one of the tworemaining cupfuls, slung the canteen over his shoulder and struck offswiftly for the twenty-five-mile-distant spring. 

Again, had he been other than a Hopi, less than the superb creaturethat he was, the thing could not have been done. Down in Oraibi to-dayan Indian boy will run eighty miles in a day for ten dollars, and onhis return will run races for fun. The American desert has made himjust as it has made the thirstless cactus and the desert wolf. He is aspecial creation, and Kish Taka was but doing the thing he knew. Onthe run he drained the canteen; at the end of it he stopped and drankand rested briefly. Then with full canteen he turned back to succourand save the man who had befriended and saved him. So it came aboutthat he found Howard in time. 

All of that long hot day they sought to rest, lying inert in what scantshade they could find, eating a few bits of dried beef, drinking theirwater now and then. By the time that the first hint of coming coolnesscrept into the air Howard sat up, somewhat refreshed and again eager tobe moving. He turned to the Indian with a question on his lips, for athought had come to him. 

'Do you know Jim Courtot?' he asked sharply. 

Kish Taka's eyes were veiled. 

'What man, Jeem Cour'?' he demanded expressionlessly. Then, with thenaïveté of a child: 'Him your frien'?'

Howard tapped the sagging holster at his hip. 

'For Jim Courtot I carry this. ' he returned quietly. 'He wants to killme. '

'Then, ' said Kish Taka, and through the veils in his eyes fire flashedand was gone, 'him better be quick! Me, Kish Taka, I kill Jeem Cour'damn quick pretty soon. '

Howard looked at him curiously, wondering just how the trails of thegambler and the desert man had crossed and what wrong Courtot had donethe other. For he did not doubt that the sin had been Courtot's. 

'You have a big dog, ' he said, still looking probingly into the beadyeyes. 'Big dog, big head, big shoulders, teeth like a wolf. Where ishe?'

If Kish Taka wondered at his knowledge, no sign evidenced the fact. His own teeth, white and strong as a wolf's, showed fleetingly, andinto his expression came merely a look of pride. 

'You my frien'--See!' With a swift gesture he whipped from his sidehis long knife, pricked his arm so that a drop of blood came, set hisforefinger to the ruby drop and, leaning closer, touched the fingerpoint in the palm of Howard's hand. 'Kish Taka tell you true. Noother dog like the dog of Kish Taka! He run with Kish Taka, fight withKish Taka, hunt with Kish Taka--kill for Kish Taka! He smell out thetrail of the man not the frien' of Kish Taka. Now, Kish Taka say, "Dog, go home. " And he gone. Yonder. ' He swept his long arm outtoward the north. 

'Far?'

'Running, ' answered Kish Taka, 'he go three day and night. Running hecome back, other three day and night. '

From other added fragments Howard gathered something of a story: KishTaka and his brother, the dog with them, had come from 'where theylived' far off to the north, seeking Jim Courtot. Yesterday Kish Takahad sent his dog back across the wastes, carrying a message. Themessage was in the form of a feather from his belt tied with a lock ofhair dipped in blood. The feather was grey, from a dove's wing, andgrey is symbolical of the Underworld with the Hopi; the hair was fromthe head of Kish Taka's brother. The meaning was plain. Theexplanation came stoically: Kish Taka pointed to the wound upon his ownhead. Jim Courtot, more cunning than they had thought, had surprisedhis pursuers, had even come out into the desert to take them unawares. He had killed the other Indian from ambush, had wounded Kish Taka andhad fled. Now Kish Taka's tribesmen would understand and anotherrunner would come to take the place of him who had fallen. 

That the dog would understand to make the return across the desert to'where they lived' was also explained. Each man there had his dog, each man had his friend. These two men, kind to their two dogs, caressed them, fed them, sheltered them. All other men in the tribeabused these two beasts on sight, stoned them, drove them away. Henceevery dog had two masters whom he loved with all of the loyalty of adog heart and all other men he distrusted and feared and hated. Now, in the desert, Kish Taka had but to drive his dog from him, shouting athim, casting a stone at him, and the big brute to whom similarexperiences had come before out of as clear a sky, knew that he had afriend in the distant camp, one friend only in the world, and asstraight as a dart made off to find him. In three days' time he wouldbe leaping and fawning upon his other master, sure of food and kindwords. And, when in turn that other master turned upon him and seizeda stick with which to beat him, he would know that Kish Taka would takehim into his arms and give him meat and water. For such things had heknown since he was a roly-poly puppy. 

There was but one matter further about which Howard wondered, and heasked his question point-blank. Point-blank Kish Taka answered it. 

Jim Courtot, with lies in his mouth, had come to these desert folkseveral months ago. He had tarried with them long, swearing that hehated all white men, that he had killed a white and that the whiteswould kill him, that he would spend his life with the Indians, teachingthem good things. In time they came to trust him. He learned of themtheir secrets, he found where they hid the gold they used now and thento barter with the white men in their towns, he saw their hiddenturquoises. Further, he wronged a maiden who was one day to come tothe _kiva_ of the headman, the Hawk Man, Kish Taka. The maiden now wasdead by her own hand; Courtot that night, full-handed with histhievings, had fled; and always and always, until the end came, KishTaka would follow him. 

Howard heard and looked away through the growing dusk and saw, not thescope of a dimming landscape, but something of the soul of Kish Taka. He understood that the Indian had given his confidence freely and heknew that it was, no doubt, the first and last time in his life that hewould so speak with a _bahana_. And it was because Howard had sharedhis last water with him and was, therefore, 'brother. ' Kish Taka wasan implacable hater; he would follow Jim Courtot until one of them wasdead. Kish Taka was a loyal friend, for the Hopi who will bare hisheart to a man will bare his breast for him. 

Further questions Howard did not ask, feeling that he had penetratedalready further into the man's own personal matters than he should havedone. He had heard tales such as all men hear when they come into theinfluence of the desert south-west, wild tales like those he hadrecounted about Superstition Pool to Helen and her father, wilder talesabout a people who dwelt on in the more northern and more bleak partsof the desert. Lies, for the most part, he judged them, such lies asmen tell of an unknown country and other men repeat and embroider. There were men whom he knew who maintained stoutly that the old SevenCities of Cibola were no dead myth but a living reality; that therewere a Hidden People; that they had strange customs and worshippedstrange gods and bowed the knee in particular to a young and whitegoddess, named Yohoya; that they hunted with monster dogs, that theyhad hidden cities scooped out centuries ago in mountain cliffs and thatthey were incredibly rich in gold and turquoises. Lies, perhaps. Andyet a lie may be based upon truth. Here was a high-type Indian whocalled himself Kish Taka, the Hawk Man; he hunted with such a dog; hecamped on the trail of a _bahana_ who had betrayed and robbed hispeople. That _bahana_ was Jim Courtot. What had taken Jim Courtotinto that country? And now that he was back, Jim Courtot was flush. And, when Sandy Weaver had mentioned certain tracks to him, he hadstared over his shoulder and turned white! Truly, there were manyquestions to ask; but Howard refrained from asking them. 

'This Indian has played a white man's part to me, ' he told himself. 'And his business is his own and not mine. '

'Come, ' said Kish Taka abruptly out of the silence into which they hadsunk. 'Cool now, we go. '

They had but little water remaining in Howard's canteen, and Kish Takascorned carrying water for himself; but he had outlined the trail theywould take and appeared confident that they would not suffer from lackof water. They struck out toward the south-east, the Indian swingingalong ahead, his body stooped a little forward, his thin arms hangingloose at his sides. Several times Howard stopped to drink; the Indiandrank once only before their arrival at the spring. Here they restedand ate. The night was already far advanced and glorious with itsblazing stars, and they did not tarry long. In half an hour they movedon again. As day was breaking Kish Taka led the way up a steep-sidedmesa and, catching Howard's arm, pointed out toward the east. 

'Here we turn, ' he explained. 'Not so far that way, maybe two hours, we find more water. Then we go that way, ' and he indicated that theymust bear off a little to the south, 'and more water. Then we sleep inshade. Then at night, not too far, see your place. '

It came about that all that Kish Taka had predicted was so. They foundwater; they spent the long day in the shade of some stunted trees; theyate all but a few scraps of their food; they went on again at sundown. In the pink flush of another dawn they stood together on the uplandsback of Last Ridge and saw before them and below them the green ofDesert Valley. In the foreground, a thin wisp of smoke arose from thespot where the Longstreets were camped. 

'Kish Taka go back now. ' The Indian stood, arms folded across hisgaunt chest, eyes hard on Howard's. 'Back to the Bad Lands to sitdown. Soon Kish Taka's dog comes and with him a man. And while hewaits, Kish Taka will make many stones piled up on his brother. '

He swung on his heel to go. But Howard caught at his arm. 

'Wait, ' he said. 'Two things! One, where that fire is are two people. An old man and a girl. They are my friends, Kish Taka. '

Kish Taka nodded. 

'My frien's, ' he said simply. 

'The other thing, ' said Howard. 'Kish Taka, hungry, killed my calves. He left gold. When again Kish Taka is hungry, let him kill as manycalves as he pleases. But let him keep his gold. '

Again the Indian nodded. And this time Howard let him go. 

The Indian went back toward the Bad Lands, swift, silent, and in alittle was lost in the distance. He did not once turn. Howardwithdrew his eyes and sent them questing down toward the wisp of smoke. His thoughts were wandering. And last they winged to Jim Courtot. 

'Jim Courtot, ' he muttered under his breath, as though the man werewith him, and as he saw fancied visions of things to be, 'I have it inmy heart to be almost sorry for you. '

Then he shrugged, filled his lungs with the fresh clean cool air whichrose up across the miles from his own pastures and set his feet intothe trail that would lead home--by way of the Longstreets. Now hewalked eagerly. In half an hour he had made his way down to the flatupon which the canvas shanty stood. He came on, the fatigue gone froma stride that was suddenly buoyant; there was a humorous glint in hiseyes as he counted upon surprising them; he would just say, casually, that he had dropped in, neighbour-style, for breakfast. 

Then he saw Helen, her upturned, laughing face rosy with thenewly-risen sun. Before her, looking down into her eyes, was JohnCarr. Howard came abruptly to a dead halt. They saw him, and Helencalled something to him. Again he came on, but the joyous spring hadgone out of his stride and he realized in a dull, strange fashion thatfor the first time in his life he was not glad to see his old friend. 

Chapter XV

The Golden Secret

'Good morning, Mr. Howard!' cried Helen gaily. Her cheeks were stillrosy, flushed, thought Howard quickly, less with the flood of the dawnthan with some sudden rush of blood stirred by something that Carr hadbeen saying. Then as she gave him her hand, inspired by the imp of themoment, she ran on: 'You should have been here last night! Shouldn'the, Mr. Carr? Sanchia was here!'

'Mrs. Murray?' demanded Howard, wondering and therefore flounderinginto Helen's trap. 'What was she doing here?'

Helen appeared to be in the lightest of spirits this morning. Herlaughter was one of sheer joyousness. Her eyes were dancing as sheretorted:

'Mrs. Murray? Who said Mrs. Murray? I was talking about Sanchia. Mr. Chuck Evans rode her over last night, asking if we had seen you. '

Howard bit his lip. Carr laughed. Then, seeing the look upon hisfriend's face, he grew grave immediately and put out his own hand, saying merely:

'We wondered what had become of you, Al. And now to have you come infrom that direction--and on foot! What's happened?'

'A side-winder scared my horse into breaking its tie-rope and leavingme on foot. And I've had enough walking to last me seven incarnations. Hello, Mr. Longstreet, ' as he saw the professor step out of his canvashouse. Howard went forward to meet him, leaving John Carr with Helen. 

'Just the man I was wishing to see, ' beamed Longstreet, shaking handsenthusiastically. 'I was on the verge of taking up the matter withyour good friend Carr last night, but something prompted me to waituntil this morning, in hopes you would come. I--I seem to know youbetter, somehow. ' He lowered his voice confidentially. 'Those two outthere are just a couple of youngsters this morning. You and I willhave to be the serious brains of the occasion. '

Howard glanced over his shoulder. Carr's broad back was turned to him, Helen's eyes, glancing toward the shack, were sparkling. 

'Fire away, ' he said colourlessly. 'What's in the wind?'

'First thing--Had breakfast yet?'

Oddly, Howard had no longer any appetite for coffee and bacon, thoughhe had hungrily swallowed his last bit of dried meat an hour ago. 

'Then, ' said Longstreet eagerly, 'come in here where we can talk. ' Andto Helen he called, 'My dear, I want a few words with Mr. Howard. '

'Oh, we won't disturb you, ' Helen laughed back at him. It struckHoward that she would laugh at anything this morning. 'Mr. Carr and Iwere just going up on the cliff for the view. '

Longstreet came in and dropped the flap behind him. Then he stepped toa shelf and took down a roll of paper which he spread upon the table. Howard looking at it with lack-lustre eyes saw that it was a sort ofgeological chart of the neighbourhood. Longstreet set his finger upona point where he had made a cross in red pencil. 

'It's there, ' he announced triumphantly. 

Howard was thinking of the view from the cliff and failed to grasp theother's meaning. 

'What's there?' he asked. 

'Gold, man!' cried Longstreet. 'Gold! Didn't I say it was as simpleas A B C to find gold here? Well, I've done it!'

'Oh, gold. ' And even yet Howard's interest was not greatly intrigued. 'I see. '

Longstreet stared at him wonderingly. And then, suddenly, Howard cameto earth. Why, the thing, if true, was wonderful, glorious! With allhis heart he hoped it was true; for Longstreet's dear old sake, forHelen's. He studied the map. 

'That would be right over yonder? About half a mile from here? In DryGulch?'

'Precisely. And it has been there since the time Dry Gulch was not drybut filled with rushing waters. It has been there for any man to findwho was not a fool or blind. It rather looks, ' and he chuckled, 'asthough it had been waiting since the Pliocene age for me. '

'You are sure? You haven't just stumbled upon a little pocket----'

Longstreet snorted. 

'I am going into the nearest fair-sized town right away, ' he saidemphatically, 'to get men and implements to begin a moderatedevelopment. It is a gold mine, my dear young sir--nothing else orless. Here; look at this. '

It was a handful of bits of quartz, brought up into the light from thedepths of a sagging pocket. The quartz indicated high-grade ore; itwas streaked and pitted with soft yellow gold. 

'By the Lord, you've got it!' cried Howard. He wrung Longstreet's handwarmly. 'Good for you. You've got the thing you came for!'

'One of the things, ' Longstreet corrected him with twinkling eyes. 

'And the other?'

'Another gold mine! As our young friend Barbee puts it, I'm all loadedfor bear this trip, partner!'

'And you haven't told Miss Helen? Or Carr?'

'Never a word. And for two very excellent reasons: _Imprimis_, theyboth were poking fun at me last night; Helen said that I couldn't findgold if it were in a minted twenty-dollar gold piece in my own pocket. Now I am having my revenge on them; I'll show them! _Secundo_: Nextweek comes Helen's birthday. I am going to give her a little surprise. A gold mine for a birthday present isn't bad, is it?'

Howard sat down to talk matters over, and since there was still coffeeand some bits of toast left he changed his mind about breakfast and ateand drank while he listened to Longstreet. The university man had madecertain of the value of his discovery only last evening; it hadhappened that Carr was staying over with them and therefore, while heand Helen chatted about a great deal of nothing at all, Longstreet hadample time to think matters over. To-day he meant to go into Big Runand on into the county seat, which he had learned was but a few milesfurther on and was a sizable town. There he would take on a small crewof men and what tools and implements and powder would be needed foruncovering his ledge and there he would attend to the necessary papers, the proving up on his claim, matters upon which he was somewhat hazy. The following day he would return and begin work. 

'I've got to go down by the ranch, ' Howard told him. 'Then, if youlike, I can go on with you. It is possible I might be of service toyou. At least, I could steer you into the right sort of people. '

Longstreet nodded vigorously. 'That's fine of you. And I won't say itwas not expected. Some day, perhaps, I can repay you for some of yourkindnesses to us. Now, if you are ready, I'll go and call Helen. And, remember, not a word to them about our business. '

'Miss Helen will go with us?'

'I can hardly leave her out here alone, can I?' smiled Longstreet. 'And Mr. Carr said that he would have to leave this morning. While heand Helen chat together, you and I can ride on ahead and talk. Thereare any number of matters to discuss. '

Howard hastily expressed his approval of the plan, and if his tonelacked heartiness, Longstreet did not notice. 

'We are all going down to Desert Valley ranch, ' Longstreet explainedwhen Helen and Carr came at his calling. 'From there we are going toride to Big Run and then on into San Ramon. I want to get some--sometools and things there, to scratch around with, you know, ' heconcluded, beaming with that expression that he wore when he had an acein the hole. Helen looked at him with keen suspicious eyes. 

'Papa is up to something underhanded, ' she announced serenely. 'Hethinks that he can fool me when he pleases and--look at his face! Whatis it, father?'

'Never mind, ' said Longstreet hastily. 'Just get yourself ready, mydear. You'll ride with us, Mr. Carr?'

Helen, always ready for a ride, hurried for her hat and gloves; nowfrom the end of the room, her eyes bright with mischief and hidden fromthe men, she called:

'Do come, Mr. Carr. I have to have some one to talk with, you know, and papa and Mr. Howard never let me slip a word in sideways. '

'She wasn't like this when we rode home in the moonlight the othernight, ' thought Howard, considerably puzzled. 'What have I done, anyway?'

Carr did not give a direct answer. While he cut the end off a freshcigar, he suggested:

'How about the horses? Al is on foot. '

'That's easy, ' Howard answered. 'Chuck Evans is herding a string upthis way and I can get one of them. Be back while you are gettingready. ' And over his shoulder to Carr, feeling vaguely that in hisheart he had been unreasonable and not quite loyal, 'Better come along, John. '

From the edge of the tableland he saw Evans down below. The cowboy sawhim and came at his signal. 

'So you're back, are you?' said Chuck. 'We'd begun to wonder if you'dhit the trail for some other where. Special, ' he added significantly, 'since it's been published kind of wide and large that you and JimCourtot was both packing shooting-irons. '

'I haven't seen Courtot, ' Howard told him carelessly, 'and I'mbeginning to believe that he has other calves to brand and has prettywell forgotten all about me. I'm shy a horse, Chuck. Scare one up forme to ride back to the ranch, will you?'

By the time Chuck on his own horse had roped a mount for Howard thelittle party was ready. They rode down into the valley four abreastand across the fields to the ranch-house. Helen seemed a new creaturethis morning, utterly tantalizing and not a little perverse. Howarddid not know what a proud and independent little person she was, nordid he know that each day during the week she had expected him to rideover, and had finally told herself point-blank that it did not matterthe least snap of her fingers whether he ever came or not. Naturally, she did not know what had kept him away or that he had even wanted tocome. Now that she had heard his remark about a lost horse and a longwalk she was burning with curiosity. But that was another matterhidden from Alan. 

She did remark the big revolver at his hip and when opportunity arosementioned it to Carr. Wasn't it rather strange, she wanted to know, and even somewhat absurd that a man should go about armed like that?Carr evaded and made a vague remark about a man riding across the BadLands perhaps with money in his pocket. But John Carr was a blunt, straightforward type of a man, little given to finesse incircumlocution, and Helen fixed her frank, level gaze upon him and knewthat he was holding back something. Still higher rose her curiosityabout a man whom she did her feminine best to ignore this morning. 

Before they came to the ranch-house Helen and her father were ridingahead, while the two friends dropped further and further back. Carrlistened with keen interest as Alan sketched the happenings of the lastfew days. He whistled softly at what he learned of the man on thetrail of Jim Courtot. But he shook his head when Alan predicted that, soon or late, Kish Taka would kill the gambler. 

'It's white man and Indian, Al, ' he said. 'The thing always works outthe same way. Jim got one of the two of them, didn't he? Well, he'llget the other. And what I know of the breed of your friend Kish Taka, they're a pretty low-lived bunch and there'd be precious little harmdone if they killed each other. '

But Alan shook his head. 'Kish Taka is a pretty deep shade of dark onthe outside, but he's white clean through under the hide of him. AndI've got it clear in my head that he'll never quit on the trail untilhe's squared accounts with Courtot. '

'By the way, ' said Carr carelessly after a moment, 'the professor seemsall excited about something or other this morning. What's it allabout?'

'What do you mean?' countered Howard. 

'Oh, nothing. Only from the way he grabbed on to you I fancied that hehad told you. I thought that if there were anything I could do forhim----'

'No. There's nothing. He did tell me, but he asked me not to sayanything about it. I'll tell you as soon as I can, John. To-night, maybe, or to-morrow. '

'Oh, ' said Carr. 'I didn't mean to stampede in on a secret. ' Heturned to other matters and presently they fell silent, jogging alongtogether, their eyes for the most part upon the girl riding ahead ofthem. 

'Papa, ' Helen was saying at her first opportunity, 'where has Mr. Howard been?'

'I have no idea, my dear, ' said her father placidly. 

'What! You mean to tell me that you two have done all the talking youhave, and that he hasn't said a word about where he has been hidinghimself all this week?'

'Not a word. '

'H'm, ' said Miss Helen, 'that's funny. ' And then, 'Papa, do you knowif he has had trouble with anyone lately?'

'What makes you ask that?' he queried uneasily, and Helen satstraighter in the saddle and looked him full in the face. For now shewas positive that Alan had had trouble and that her father knew aboutit. 

Longstreet hesitated. He had no desire to recount his experience atMoraga's saloon in Big Run. He had judged himself fortunate since theaffair that Helen had been so absorbed in her new environment that shehad not thought to call upon him for an accounting of the family funds. But even so, all along he had had a sort of fatalistic fear that in theend she would know everything; she always did. 

'Well, ' said Helen commandingly, 'tell me all about it. '

'Eh?' He started guiltily. 'About what?'

'About Mr. Howard's trouble with another man. '

Then Longstreet told her what he must. How, while he was with Barbee, a man named Jim Courtot had joined them. How Howard had happenedalong, looking for him, and had said that Jim Courtot was no gentleman. Ahem!--he had said it very emphatically, very. Longstreet did notrecall the exact terms employed, but their purport was that Courtot wasa crook and a--a man-killer. Courtot had whipped out a revolver, Howard had hurled himself upon him and had knocked him down. Table andchairs were overturned, and at first Longstreet thought that Courtotwas dead. He was still unconscious when they left. 

'Table?' said Helen. 'And chairs? Where were you? In whose house?For this didn't happen at the hotel and there was no table in thestore. '

'In the--the house of a man named Moraga, I believe, ' Longstreetanswered hurriedly. 

Helen looked at him severely. 

'A saloon, wasn't it?' she asked, quite as a school teacher may put aleading question to a squirming little boy. When he did not answerimmediately, Helen did not wait. 

'I think, ' she informed him judicially, 'that it will be better for youif I don't lose sight of you in these cattle and mining towns afterthis. And it would be a better thing for Mr. Howard if he did notfrequent such places. '

'But you sent him for me!'

Helen merely sniffed at him. She was wondering if Jim Courtot reallywere a man-killer? She shuddered. Then she set her brain to work uponthe name--Jim Courtot. It had a familiar ring; certainly she had heardit before. She and her father rode on in silence. She could hear Alanand Carr talking together again. Suddenly she remembered. It had beenthat afternoon when they went to Big Run. The two men had spoken ofMrs. Murray, remarking that she was in town. It had been Alan who hadsaid on the heels of this remark:

'I'll bet you Jim Courtot has turned up again!'

That was it! Sanchia Murray--Jim Courtot. What had the one to do withthe other? Had the enmity of the two men, Howard and Courtot, begunover Sanchia Murray?

When they came to the ranch-house and Alan was at her side to help herto the ground, Helen said, 'No, thank you, ' quite stiffly and slippeddown unaided. 

Chapter XVI

Sanchia Schemes

Chance had it that the very first individual they saw in Big Run wasSanchia Murray. She was in white and looked fresh and cool and girlishand inviting as she sat idling upon the porch at the hotel. When shesaw them, she smiled engagingly. 

Only a minute ago as they turned into the hot, deserted street AlanHoward had suggested:

'We'd better have lunch at the hotel and ride on to San Ramonafterwards. ' Helen now told herself wisely that he had known Mrs. Murray would be at the hotel. She turned to wave to John Carr, who hadsaid good-bye at the outskirts of Big Run; he claimed that he had beenaway from home long enough and had some business waiting on his return. 

'He's perfectly splendid, don't you think, Mr. Howard?' Helen askedbrightly, quite as if she had not yet seen Sanchia. 

'Yes, ' he rejoined warmly. 'He's the best friend a man ever had. '

They dismounted, and Sanchia Murray was not to be ignored longer. Shehurried forward and gave both hands at the same time, one to Helen, oneto Longstreet. Howard, who held back a pace, fully occupying his ownhands with the reins of the three horses, she treated to a quick, friendly nod. He turned away to the stable as the Longstreets andSanchia took chairs on the porch. Helen was cool but civil; she didnot like the woman and yet she had no sufficient cause to be downrightrude as she was inclined to be. Longstreet, on the other hand, as hemade himself comfortable, considered Sanchia Murray as nice andfriendly and pleasant. 

They chatted about this, that and the other thing, all inconsequential, and Helen had to admit that Sanchia had her charm, that she wasvivacious and clever and pretty. Helen contented herself for the mostpart with a quiet 'Yes' or 'No, ' and sat back and made her judgments. In the first place, Sanchia was no woman's woman, but the type to leada heedless man to make a fool of himself. In the second place, andeven when she was laughing, her dark eyes were quick and filled with alook of remarkable keenness. And, finally, it appeared that she felt avery strong interest in Longstreet. 

'She's nothing but a flirt, ' thought Helen with something of disgustand utterly without realization that she herself had come perilouslyclose to flirting with John Carr not so long ago--though of course withample reason! 'She'd look like that at any man, were he inknee-breeches or as old as Dad. '

Howard came, and presently they went into the darkened dining-room. Sanchia was entertaining Longstreet with an account of her first cominginto this perfectly dreadful country, and so it came about that Helenand Alan entered together and found chairs side by side. Since for thegreater part of the meal Sanchia monopolized the university man, Alanand Helen were left largely to themselves. And, largely, they weresilent. He sought to engage her in talk some two or three times, foundher quiet and listless, and in the end gave up all attempt atconversation. After lunch, while Mrs. Murray's tongue was still racingmerrily for the benefit of the professor, Howard succeeded in gettingHelen alone at the far end of the porch. 

'Look here, Helen, ' he said after his outright style, 'what's thematter? What have I done?'

'_Helen_?' she repeated after him. 

'Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Helen, or Miss Longstreet, or YourLadyship. That Helen just slipped out. '

'So I noticed. Is it a little habit of yours calling girls by theirfirst names when----'

'I don't know any girls, ' he cut in vigorously. 

She lifted her brows at him. 

'How about Sanchia Murray? Isn't she----'

'Damn Sanchia Murray, ' he said savagely. 

'I'm talking about you! You and me. '

Helen gasped. Either his oath shocked her or she gave a very excellentimitation of a maiden thunder-stricken by such language as she hadnever dreamed a man could employ. Certainly not a man who had theslightest claim to the title of a gentleman. 

'I beg your pardon again, ' muttered Howard. 'That's twice. And nowtell me, will you, what I've done?'

Just what had he done? Helen had to think fast. He was tall andstraight and manly, he stood looking honestly into her eyes, he wasgood to look upon and he struck her as very much of a man all the waythrough. Further, he had said 'Damn Sanchia Murray, ' quite as thoughhe meant it with all his heart. Just what had he done?

'Are you going to tell me?' he was asking again. 'That's only fair, you know. '

'Don't you know?' countered Helen. She looked the part of a girl whoknows very well herself, but is in doubt whether or not she shouldspeak about it. 

'No, ' he told her vigorously, 'honest to grandma, I don't. But I'msorry, just the same. '

Then, all suddenly and with no premeditation, Helen smiled and AlanHoward's heart grew warm. 

'Maybe sometime I'll tell you, ' she informed him. 'If you didn't meanit, we'll forget it now. And I'll try to believe that you didn't meananything. '

He was considerably puzzled. He scratched his head and wondered. Sothere was something, then, that he had done to offend her? Then he wasa low-lived dog and should have been choked to death. He couldn't knowthat there was really nothing in the world wrong, and never had beenanything wrong; that merely Helen had been musing upon a mare's name, and that she had missed him, and did not intend that he should know it, and had resorted to the ancient womanly trick of smiling upon anotherman. At least Howard was relieved. The day grew bright again and hecould find it in his heart to thank God for Sanchia Murray, who stillmonopolized Helen's father. 

This monopoly was one which continued into the afternoon. For whentime came to ride on to San Ramon, Longstreet stated that Mrs. Murraywas going with them. It appeared that she had seen a most adorable hatthere in the milliner's window and had planned since early morning uponriding over for it. So when Alan brought the other horses he led herswith them, a beautiful white mare, glossy and well-groomed, trim as agreyhound and richly accoutred in Mexican saddle and Spanish bit. Mrs. Murray kept them waiting a moment, hardly more. Then she appeareddressed in a distracting riding habit. They saw her leave an envelopewith the hotelkeeper; they did not hear her instructions. Then allmounted, and again Howard had it in his heart to be grateful forSanchia. For now he and Helen rode together and far enough in advanceto be in a world by themselves. 

Until this moment Mrs. Murray had talked about nothing in the worldthat mattered. But now, her eyes watchful, her manner that of one whohas waited long enough and is impatient, she said quickly:

'You are still looking for your gold mine?'

'Yes, ' said Longstreet. 'Oh, yes. '

But on the instant in his eye was that look of a man with the aceburied. Perhaps Mrs. Murray had played poker; clearly she knewsomething of poker faces. 

'You have found it!' she cried softly. 'Oh, I am so glad!'

He looked at her wonderingly. 

'What makes you say that?' he stammered. 

'That I am glad? Why shouldn't I be? Why shouldn't every one be glad?When one's friend--oh, but we are friends, dear Mr. Longstreet! Thereis the one glorious thing to be said about this country, about all ofthe West back from the railroads, that two persons don't have to knoweach other a year to become real, true friends. For your sake and forthe sake of your wonderful daughter, am I not to be genuinely glad?'

He had to wait to the end of the rushing words to correct her:

'I meant, what made you say that I had found it?'

She opened her big eyes at him like a baby. 

'But you have, haven't you? You came to find gold; you brought to bearupon the situation your scientific knowledge instead of a prospector'spoor brain; and you have found gold, I am sure!' She smiled upon himbrightly as she concluded with a semblance of trustfulness andartlessness: 'Tell me the truth; haven't you found it?'

Suddenly he found himself hard beset. She had gauged him prettyaccurately and therefore had asked him the question pointedly. He musteither say yes or no; true, he might be rude to her and refuse ananswer, but that would be equivalent to an admission. If he said 'No, 'he would be lying. There was no other word for it. 

'Well?' persisted Sanchia. She still smiled, she was still extremelykind and friendly, but it was plain that she would have her answer. 

Still he hesitated. What were his reasons for secrecy, after all?Just to spring a surprise for Helen on her birthday. He had alreadytold Alan. A secret is a rather dull and stupid affair unless it isshared. Mrs. Murray was all that was sympathetic; she would rejoicewith him. 

'I had not planned to say anything about it yet, ' he began hesitatingly. 

'Oh!' she cried joyously. 'It's wonderful, wonderful, wonderful! I amso glad! Tell me about it. All about it, every word. '

Longstreet's smile answered her own. And, of course, he told. 

'Only, ' he warned her, 'I am keeping it a secret for a little. Helendoesn't know. Next week is her birthday. I am going to give it to herthen. '

Mrs. Murray dropped her reins long enough to clap her gauntleted hands. Then she elicited the whole story. She asked to be informed how heknew he had really found gold; she expressed her child-like wonder athis great wisdom; she was breathless with admiration after a fashionwhich made him glow; and meantime she learned exactly where the placewas and saw his specimens. As she took them into her own hands hereyes were lowered so that they were hidden; but when she looked up theywere shining. 

'Give me one of them, just one, ' she pleaded. 'Won't you? I should sodearly love to keep it for a souvenir of this happiness which is comingto you. ' She sighed. Then, in a faint, quiet little voice: 'Maybe Iam asking too much?'

'No, no, ' returned Longstreet stoutly. He selected the finest specimenand presented it to her quite as a kind father might have given a stickof candy to his little girl. 'It is very kind of you to rejoice withus in the good fortune which is beginning to come our way. Justbeginning, ' he added with grave assurance. 

'I'll have a locket made of it, ' said Sanchia. Now for a little it wasLongstreet who did the talking. She grew thoughtful, nodding now andthen or answering absent-mindedly. 

'You'll begin work soon?' she asked abruptly. 

'Immediately. That's what I'm going into San Ramon to-day for. Thereare certain necessary papers to be drawn, you know, in order to fileproperly. Then I'm going to get some men and teams and explosives andtools and begin development to-morrow. '

More thoughtful still grew Sanchia, biting her lips, frowning, hidingher eyes under her wide hat. Once she looked up quickly and studiedhis eager face, her eyes keen and searching. Then, still watching himfor the slightest change of expression, she said:

'Maybe I can be of assistance to you. You will be busy enough gettingyour crew and implements. I know everybody in San Ramon; GeorgeHarkness, at the court-house, is the man to arrange your papers and heis an old friend of mine. I am going to see him anyway to-day, and ifyou like I can have him do everything for you and send you your papersnext week. It requires several days, you know, ' and by now her intentregard had assured her that he knew absolutely nothing in the worldabout it. 

Longstreet demurred. He wasn't certain that it could be done this way, nor did he like the idea of imposing upon her. But, she told himquickly, it _could_ be done; she had acted for another gentleman inthis capacity, Mr. Nate Kemble of the Quigley mines. She knew allabout it. As for imposition, she broke into a timid little laugh. 

'I am a rather helpless and, I am afraid, stupid sort of a littlewoman, ' she confessed. 'I have to make my own way in the world, andthis is one of the ways I do it. If, when everything is properlyconcluded, you feel that I have really been of assistance and care tosend me a small cheque, just for services rendered, you understand, why----'

He saw the matter immediately in the desired light. 

'Then, ' he told her heartily, 'I shall be delighted to have you see Mr. Harkness for me. You are very kind, Mrs. Murray. And, as you say, Ican give my attention exclusively to the other end of the business. Asto the location of the spot so that the papers----'

'Oh, that part is all right! I know just where the Dry Gulch is and sowill George when he looks it up on his maps. You won't have to worryabout that in the least. '

Again Sanchia grew silent and thoughtful. Before them, side by side, went Helen and Howard. She watched them and held her horse back sothat she and Longstreet would not come any closer to them. Finally shemade her second suggestion, watching as before the play of Longstreet'sexpression. 

'You have told Mr. Howard?'

'Yes. No one else. '

'He understands that you wish to keep your secret from Helen?'

'Yes. '

'Then, suppose we do this: As we come into town I must leave you amoment to ride by the milliner's and be sure that she holds that hatfor me; she lives on a side street. You can ride with the others tothe hotel, for you will have to stay all night there; it will beimpossible for you to get everything done before dark. And, after all, maybe it would be better if you come with me to the court-house. Iwant you at least to meet Mr. Harkness. I will attend to everythingfor you; you can rejoin Helen and Mr. Howard. And I think he willunderstand if you suggest that he stay with Helen at the hotel whileyou ride down to the post office to mail a letter, let's say. Iwouldn't mention court-house, ' she added, 'as Helen might guess. '

During the remaining hour of jogging slowly through the sunshine, Sanchia Murray elaborated her plans, all directed toward the double endof hastening Longstreet's venture and keeping his secret from Helen. She went into detail, secured his consent upon each point or swiftlywithdrew it to make another suggestion, and in the end awoke in him akeen sense of her generosity. When they came to the first buildings ofthe straggling town she waved her hand gaily, swung off into a sidestreet, and he rode on to overtake Alan and Helen. Once around acorner Sanchia put spurs to her mare, struck the sweating shoulderswith her quirt and raced on her way through puffing clouds of dust andbarking dogs as though all leisureliness were gone before a suddenvital need for haste. Before the party of three had come within sightof the hotel she had swung down from her saddle at the back door of theMontezuma House. And every one who knows San Ramon knows theMontezuma, and every one who knows the place knows a house of sinisterreputation. 

At the hotel Howard dismounted first to give his hand to Helen. Thistime she accepted it and even repaid him with a quick smile. Longstreet, while Helen was dismounting, tipped the cattleman a slywink. It was meant to be full of meaning, but only succeeded in makingHoward wonder. 

'If you two will wait for me a moment, ' said Longstreet, making aperfectly transparent pretence of having nothing of importance on hismind, 'I am going to ride over to the post office. It's just overyonder. You'll be on the porch when I come back?' and without waitingfor a reply he clucked to his horse and trotted away. Helen lookedafter him in surprise. 

'Papa's up to something he ought to leave alone, ' she decided wisely. She turned to remount. 

'We'd better follow him and----'

Suddenly her expression altered. Her eyes softened and she added. 

'I know, ' she added. 'No, we mustn't follow him. And he'll be gone anhour. '

'What is it?' wondered Alan. 

'I am not quite old enough to stop having birthdays, ' she explained. 'He's just slipping off mysteriously as usual to buy somethingexpensive and foolish for me. He's just about the dearest old dad inthe world. '

So they tied their horses and went into the cool of the shady porch. Because they had matters of their own to talk about, they did notconcern themselves further with the eccentricities of a fond parent. Meantime Longstreet, chuckling as he went, rode by the post office toestablish a sort of moral alibi and thence proceeded to thecourt-house. He found it readily, a square, paintless, dusty buildingupon a dying lawn. Sanchia looking flushed and hot, was waiting forhim under a tree in front. 

'Mr. Harkness is out, ' she told him immediately. 'And as it happens, there is no one in the office. But I have found where his assistantis. He is Mr. Bates, and he has had a hard day, it seems, and is nowhaving a late lunch at the Montezuma House. We are to ride over there. '

This satisfied him, and together they rode through the back street andto the rear entrance of the gambling-house. Here they dismounted andleft their horses, Sanchia going before him. 

'We'll go in the back way, ' she told him, 'as I do not care to come tosuch places, and if I must come, I'd rather it wasn't known. Tonguesare so eager to wag when one is a woman deprived of a protector. Themen from the court-house sometimes come here for their meals. '

She showed him the way under a long grape-vine arbour and to a doorwhich she opened. There was a dark, cool hall and another door openingupon a small room in which they could see a man sitting at a table witha cup of coffee and some sandwiches before him. 

'I don't know Mr. Bates personally, ' whispered Sanchia. 'But he knowswho I am and will do quite as well as Mr. Harkness. '

'You are Mr. Bates, aren't you?' she asked from the doorway. 'Mr. Harkness's assistant?'

The man at the table nodded. 

'Yes. Come in. You are Mrs. Murray? I have heard Harkness mentionyou. If there is anything I can do for you?' His eye travelled slowlyto Longstreet. 

The man was not a pleasant type, thought Longstreet. He was swarthyand squat and had an eye that slunk away from his visitors'. But itappeared that he was kindly and eager to accommodate. He got up andclosed the door, and once, after they had begun talking, went on tiptoeto open it again and peered out into the hall as though he suspectedthat some one was listening. He seemed a broad-minded chap, wavingtechnicalities aside, assuring Longstreet that what he wanted done wasquite the simplest thing in the world. No, it was not necessary forhim to come in person to the office; Bates himself was authorized tomake the necessary entries and draw up the papers. Oh, yes; he knewall about Dry Gulch. But he did not seem in the least excited aboutthe discovery; in fact, at the end of the conversation, he said drylythat he feared that the mine would not pan out. Other men had thoughtbefore now that they had found gold in the Last Ridge country, andtheir findings had never amounted to anything. 

'I'll mail the papers to you at Big Run, ' he said, rising at the end ofthe interview. 'There will be a small fee which you may pay at yourconvenience. '

The three went out together. Bates waved a genial good-bye and strodeoff toward the court-house. Suddenly Sanchia appeared restless, almostfeverish to be gone. 

'I must hurry back to the milliner's, ' she said. 'Good-bye. '

Longstreet, abruptly deserted by his two companions, mounted to returnto the hotel. But Sanchia suddenly came back to him. 

'I'd rather you didn't say anything about my helping you, ' she saidhurriedly. 'I don't like the idea of coming to a place like theMontezuma, even upon a business matter of urgency like yours. Mr. Howard has such old-fashioned ideas, too, and he might misunderstand. And even Helen---- You won't mention me at all, will you?'

Again her smile was pleading, child-like. Longstreet assured her thathe would respect her wishes. 

'You can just say to Mr. Howard that you saw Bates and got everythingin shape, ' she suggested. 'Good-bye. '

She was gone, racing again, riding toward the milliner's--and, whenonce out of Longstreet's sight, turning into the road beyond which ledto Big Run. 

Chapter XVII

Howard Holds the Gulch

'Look at the mysterious gentleman!' said Helen, laughing, as her fatherreturned to them upon the hotel porch. Longstreet observed that sheappeared to be in the best of spirits. 'Look at the light in his eye!Can't you just tell that he thinks he has a secret? Papa, ' and shesqueezed his arm, 'won't you ever learn that with that face of yoursyou couldn't hide what you are thinking to save your life?'

For the second time that day Longstreet winked slyly at Howard. Hislaughter, as gay as Helen's, bubbled up straight from his soul. 

'Helen, ' he said as soberly as he might, 'I am afraid that we shallhave to leave you to your own devices for an hour or so. Mr. Howardand I have a little business together. '

'Oh, ' said Helen. She studied her father's face gravely, then turnedtoward Alan. She knew all along that her father was planning some sortof birthday surprise for her, and now she could not but wonder what itwas that had called the cattleman in to Longstreet's aid. For thethought of the two men really having business together struck her asquite absurd. 

'I have been dying to be alone, ' she said quickly. 'There is anice-cream shop across the street, and it's so much more comfortable ona day like this not to have a man along counting the dishes you order. Good-bye, business men, ' and rather than be the one deserted she leftthem and ran across the street, vanishing within the inviting door. 

'I have already arranged the matter of filing on my claim, ' saidLongstreet, turning triumphantly to Howard. 'I saw Bates, GeorgeHarkness's assistant, and he has undertaken to do everythingimmediately. '

'I know Bates. He's a good man, better for your work than Harknesseven. ' He spoke without a great amount of interest in the subject, andthere was something of downright wistfulness in his look which hadfollowed Helen across the street. 

They walked a short block in silence. Longstreet, glancing at hiscompanion and noting his abstraction, was glad that there were noquestions to answer. After all, it was going to be very simple to keepMrs. Murray's name out of the whole matter. When they came to thecorner and he asked 'Which way?' Howard actually started. 

'Guess I was wool-gathering, ' he grunted sheepishly. 'We go back thisway. '

They retraced their steps half the way, crossed the quiet street andturned in at a hardware store. Howard led the way to the tiny officeat the front, whose open windows looked out on the street. Aruddy-faced man in shirt sleeves sat with his hands clasped behind hishead, his eyes thoughtful. Seeing his callers, he jumped to his feet. 

'Put her there, Al, old boy, ' he called in a big, booming, good-naturedvoice like a young bull's. 'Watched you go by and wondered if youweren't coming in. Haven't seen you since old Buck was a calf. Whereyou been keeping yourself?' His big smile widened. 'Courtot hasn'tgot you hiding out, has he?'

'So you've heard that Courtot stuff, too? Pony, this is a friend ofmine; Mr. Longstreet, Pony Lee. ' While they shook hands Howard added:'Lee here knows more about practical mining than any other foot-loosestranger this side the Alleghanies. '

'Draw it mild, Al, ' laughed Lee. 'Glad to know you, Longstreet. ThinkI've heard of you. '

He indicated chairs and the three sat down. Longstreet, lookingcuriously at the man, noted that whereas he was florid and jolly andgave the impression at first almost of joviality, upon closer scrutinythat which was most pronounced about him was the keen glint of hisprobing grey eyes. He came to learn later that Pony Lee had thereputation of being both a good fellow and a fighting man. 

'Longstreet wants to spin you a little yarn. ' said Howard. 'And if youwill see him through, I imagine he's going to have a job open for you. '

'Mine, of course?' suggested Lee. 

'Yes. '

'Have a cigar, ' invited Lee. He produced a box from a desk drawer. 'See if I can guess where it is. Other side of Big Run?'

Howard nodded. 

'Who found it?'

'I did, ' answered Longstreet. 'Yesterday. '

'Last Ridge country, then. H'm. ' He rolled his cigar in his mouthidly. Then he sat bolt upright and leaned forward. 'How many peoplehave you told about it already? A dozen?'

It was little less than accusation, and Longstreet flushed. He wasopening his lips to answer stiffly when Howard spoke for him. 

'He is keeping it to himself. He has told no one but me. '

Lee sank back in his chair, and when he spoke again it was in acareless, off-hand manner. 

'Half an hour ago I saw Monte Devine. He came tearing down the street, hell-bent-for-election. Down at the saloon on the corner he picked uptwo men you know, Al. One of them was Jake Bettins and the other wasEd True. The three hit the pike at a regular two-forty clip for theBig Run road. Those birds don't go chasing around on a day like thisjust to get sunburn, do they?'

Howard frowned. 'Monte Devine?' he muttered, staring at Lee. But Lee, instead of taking the trouble to give the necessary assurance again, turned his eyes upon Longstreet. 

'Filed on your claim yet?' he demanded. 

'Yes, ' retorted Longstreet, feeling inexplicably ill at ease andshifting in his chair. 'Immediately. '

'That's good, ' grunted Lee. 'But I would be squatting on my diggingswith a shot-gun under my arm. Al, here, can tell you a few thingsabout Monte Devine and his crowd. '

'Next to Lee, ' said Howard, 'Devine knows the mining game fromhackamore to hoof. And he's a treacherous hound and a Jim Courtot man. '

'You said it, boy, ' grunted Pony Lee. 'He's all of that. And he's nonickel shooter, either. If the game ain't big, he won't chip in. '

'But, ' continued Howard, 'I guess you've doped it up wrong, Pony. Chances are they've got something else up their sleeves. They couldn'tpossibly have dropped on to Longstreet's find. '

For a full minute Lee's eyes bored into Longstreet's. Then he spokedryly:

'As long's the desert wind blows, word of a strike will go with it. Maybe I have got the wrong end of it. ' He shrugged loosely. 'I'vedone that sort of thing now and then. But I got one more thing tospill. Sanchia Murray's in town. Or she was a little while ago. '

Again he fixed his shrewd eyes upon Longstreet's tell-tale face, whichslowly reddened. Pony Lee grunted and at last lighted his cigar. Howard, with a look of sheer amazement, stared at Helen's father. 

'You didn't tell Sanchia?' he gasped. 

They got their answer in a perfect silence. Lee laughed somewhere deepdown in his throat. Howard simply sat and stared. Then suddenly hesprang to his feet and grasped Longstreet by both shoulders, jerkinghim up out of his chair. 

'Tell me about it, ' he commanded sternly. 'What did you tell her?'

'Everything, ' returned the bewildered college man. 'Why shouldn't I?She promised not to say anything. '

Howard groaned. 

'Oh, hell!' he muttered and turned away. But he came back andexplained quietly. 'She's as crooked as a dog's hind leg; she'srunning neck and neck, fifty-fifty, with Jim Courtot and Monte Devineon all kinds of deals--Come on. We've got to burn the earth gettingback to Big Run. We'll beat 'em to it yet. '

'Wait a minute, Al, ' called Lee softly. 'Let's get all the dope first. You say, Mr. Longstreet, that you filed on your claim all right?'

Longstreet began to flounder and half-way through his recital boggeddown helplessly. He had met Sanchia Murray, had gone with her to theMontezuma House, had seen Mr. Bates there----

'What sort of a looking gent is this Mr. Bates?' quizzed Pony Leesharply. 

'A short man, dark, black moustaches----'

Again Howard groaned. Lee merely smiled. 

'Recognize the picture, Al? She steered him right into Monte to fixhis papers! Well, by God!'

His expression was one of pure admiration. In his mind Sanchia Murrayhad risen to undreamed of heights--heights of impudence, but none theless daring. He could see the coup in all of its brilliance. But notso Howard. 

'We saw her leave a letter at the hotel in Big Run!' he cried out. Hewas half-way to the door. 'She had the hunch then. By now Courtot andDevine and the rest are in the saddles, if they are not, some of them, already squatting on the job at Last Ridge! I'm on my way. Pony, comealive. Chase over to the court-house; take Longstreet with you andfile on the claim if it isn't too late. '

As his last words came back to them he was out on the street andrunning. He knew within himself that it was too late. They would findthat Sanchia or one of her crowd had already visited Harkness's office. Well, that was one thing; the other was to take possession. His bootsclattered loudly upon the echoing board sidewalk and men came out tolook after him. 

He came to his horse in front of the hotel, snatched the tie-rope looseand went up into the saddle without bothering about the spurs hangingover the horn. His horse plunged under him and in another moment horseand rider were racing, even as Sanchia Murray's white mare had carriedher, out toward Big Run. 

He came as close to killing a horse that day as he had ever come in hislife. His face grew sterner as he flung the barren miles behind himand higher and higher surged the bitterness in his heart. IfLongstreet had found gold, and he believed that he had, it would havemeant so much to Helen. He had seen how she did without little things;he had felt that she was just exactly the finest girl in all of theworld; it had seemed to him only the right and logical thing that sheshould own a gold mine. And now it was to go to Jim Courtot andSanchia Murray. Sanchia instead of Helen! At the moment he felt thathe could have choked the lying heart out of the woman's soft whitethroat. As for Jim Courtot, already he and Howard hated each other asperforce two men of their two types must come to do. Here again wasample cause for fresh hatred; he drove his horse on furiously, anxiousto come upon Courtot, thanking God in his heart that he could look tohis enemy for scant words and a quick gun. There come to men at timessituations when the only solution is to be found in shooting a way out. Now, more than ever before in his life, was Alan Howard ready for thisdirect method. 

Arrived in Big Run he rode straight on until he came to Tony Moraga's. Here, if anywhere in the settlement, he could hope to find his man. Aglance showed him one horse only at the rack, a lean sorrel that herecognized. It was Yellow Barbee's favourite mount, and it struck himthat if there were further hard riding to be done, here was the horseto satisfy any man. He threw himself from the saddle, left his ownhorse balancing upon its trembling legs, and stepped into the saloon. 

Moraga was dozing behind his bar. Yellow Barbee sat slumped over atable, his lean, grimy fingers twisting an empty glass. No one elsewas in the room. 

'Courtot been here?' demanded Howard of Moraga. 

Moraga shook his head. Howard glanced toward Barbee. The boy's facewas sullen, his eyes clouded. He glowered at Moraga and, turning hismorose eyes upon Howard, snapped out:

'Moraga lies. Jim was here a little while ago. He's just beat it witha lot of his rotten crowd, Monte Devine and Bettins and True. They'reup to something crooked. '

'I forgot. ' Moraga laughed greasily. 'Jim was in the back room theretalking to Sanchia! Nice girl, no?' he taunted Barbee. 

'I'll kill you some day, Moraga, ' cursed Barbee thickly. 

Howard turned back to the door. 

'I want your horse, Barbee, ' he said quickly. 'All right?'

'Go to it, ' Barbee flashed out. 'And if you ain't man enough to getJim Courtot pretty damn soon, I am!'

'Keep your shirt on, kid, ' Howard told him coolly. 'And keep yourhands off. And for God's sake, stop letting that woman make a fool ofyou. '

Barbee cursed in his throat and with burning eyes watched the swingdoors snap after the departing cattleman. Howard, his anger standinghigher and hotter, threw himself to the back of Barbee's roan and leftBig Run riding furiously from the jump. He knew the horse; it couldstand the pace across the few miles and there was no time to lose. There was scant enough likelihood as matters were of his coming to LastRidge before Courtot's crowd. But the men might have failed to changeto fresh horses; in that case his chance was worth something. And, always, until a game be played out, it is anybody's game. 

As he rode out toward the Last Ridge trail his one thought was of JimCourtot. Little by little he lost sight of other matters. He hadfought with Jim Courtot before now; he had seen the spit of thegambler's gun twice, he had knocked him down. Courtot had hunted him, he had gone more than half-way to meet the man. And yet that which hadoccurred just now had happened again and again before; he came seekingCourtot, and Courtot had just gone. It began almost to seem thatCourtot was fleeing him, that he had no stomach for a face-to-facemeeting; that what he wanted was to step out unexpectedly from acorner, to shoot from the dark. This long-drawn-out, fruitless seekingbaffled and angered. It was time, he thought, high time that he andJim Courtot shot their way out of an unendurable mess. At everyswinging stride of Barbee's roan he grew but the more impatient for theend of the ride and the face of Jim Courtot. 

The broad sun flattened against the low hills and sank out of sight. Dusk came and thickened and the stars began to flare out. Against thedarkening skyline before him the Last Ridge country reared itselfsombrely. A little breeze went dancing and shivering through the drymesquite and greasewood. His horse stumbled and slowed down. They hadcome to the first of the rocky ground. He should be at the mouth ofDry Gulch in half an hour. And there he would find the men he hadfollowed; they had beat him to it, for not a glimpse of them had hehad. They were, then, first on the ground. That was something, heconceded. But it was not everything. 

At last he dismounted and tied his horse to a bush. About him werethick shadows, before him the tall bulwark of the uplands. His feetwere in a trail that he knew. He went on up, as silently, as swiftlyas he could. Presently he stood on the edge of the same flat on whichthe Longstreets had made their camp, though a good half-mile to theeast of the canvas shack. A wide black void across the plateau was DryGulch. Upon its nearer bank, not a hundred yards from him, a dry woodfire blazed brightly; he must have seen it long ago except that ashoulder of the mountain had hidden it. It burned fiercely, thrustingits flames high, sending its sparks skyward. In its flickering circleof light he saw dark objects which he knew must be the forms of men. He did not count them, merely prayed within his heart that Courtot wasamong them, and came on. He heard the men talking. He did not listenfor words, since words did not matter now. He hearkened for a certainvoice. 

The voices broke off and a man stood up. When he was within a score ofpaces of the fire Howard stopped. The man's thick squat form wasclearly outlined. Unmistakably this was Monte Devine. There were twoor three other forms squatting; it was impossible to distinguish acrouching man from a boulder. 

'That you, Monte?' called Howard. 

'Good guess, ' came Monte's heavy, insolent voice. 'You've got one onme, though, pardner. '

'Courtot here?' demanded Howard. 

Monte Devine laughed then. 

'Hello, Al, ' he returned lightly. 'You and Jim sure play a greatlittle game of tag, don't you?'

'He isn't here, then?'

'Left an hour ago. There's just me and Bettins and True on the job. Come on in and make yourself at home. '

Howard came on slowly. Monte might be telling the truth, and thenagain lying came easy to him. Every dark blot was searched outsuspiciously by Howard's frowning eyes. Again, having read what was inHoward's mind, Monte laughed. 

'He ain't here, Al, ' he insisted. 'You and him will have to make adate if you ever get together. '

The two other men rose from the ground and stood a little aside. Nodoubt they were True and Bettins; still neither had spoken and in thisuncertain light either might be Courtot. 

'Hello, True, ' said Howard shortly. True's voice answered him. 'Hello, Bettins, ' he said, and it was Bettin's voice replying. 

'Where did Jim go?' he asked. 

'Search me, ' retorted Monte Devine. Then, a hint of a jeer in hisvoice, 'Going to stay out there in the dark all night? 'Fraid Jim'llbe hiding out waiting to pot you?'

The other men laughed. 

'That's his sort of play, ' muttered Alan coolly. 

He took his time to look about. Little by little the mystery shroudingthis and that object dissolved and showed him a rock or a bush. Heheard a snapping bit of brush off to the right and wheeled toward it. It was a horse moving. He circled the fire and went to it. Beyondwere two other horses, only three in all. Then he shrugged hisshoulders and jammed his revolver angrily into its holster and cameback to the figures by the fire. 

'Longstreet is a friend of mine, ' he said shortly. 'I am going to seehim through, Monte. '

'Who's Longstreet?' demanded Monte. 

'I guess you know. He's the man who found gold up here yesterday. He's the man Sanchia Murray brought to you at the Montezuma House. Heowns these diggings that you and Jim Courtot and your crowd are tryingto jump to-night. Better think it over and jump somewhere else, Monte. '

Monte Devine appeared to be meditating. Howard's angry thoughts wereracing. Rage baffled was but baffled again. There seemed nothingconcrete that he could lay his hands on; again Jim Courtot had come andgone. To drive the men off the land, even could he succeed in doing itwould so far as he could see be barren of any desired result. Therewas a law in the country, and that law would see the man through whohad properly filed on his claim. And yet, for all that, his blood grewhot at the thought of all of this riff-raff of Jim Courtot squattinghere upon that which by right was Helen's. 

'I reckon we'll stay and see it through, ' said Monte at last. 

Howard turned and strode away. True laughed. But Howard had seensomething showing whitely just yonder in the black void of Dry Gulch. There was the spot where Longstreet's claim lay. He went down into thegulch and to the thing that he had seen dimly. It was a stake and abit of white paper thrust into the split, and showed him that the threemen had not mistaken the spot. Here, at last, was something concreteupon which a man, hot with his anger, could lay his hands. He wrenchedit away and hurled it far from him. He saw another stake and anotherand these like the first he snatched up and pitched wrathfully as faras he could throw them. 

'That's something, if it isn't much, ' he muttered to himself. 

The others had held back, watching him. He could hear them speakingquickly among themselves, Bettins and True angrily. Monte's voice waslow and steady. But it was Monte who came on first. 

'Hold on there a minute, ' called Howard sharply. 'I'm not asking anycompany down here. Here I am going to stick until morning. By thattime, or I miss my guess, this neck of the woods will be full of peoplewho have heard that something's doing here. There'll be a handful ofyour crowd, but there'll be twice as many square-shooters. You'llstand back with the crowd and take your chance with what is left afterLongstreet gets his, or you'll play crooked and take another chance, that of a long rope and a quick drop. Think it over, boys. '

'Better clean out while you can, Al, ' said Monte. His own voice hadsharpened. 'We're coming down to put them stakes back. '

Howard withdrew half a dozen steps into the deeper shadows of the gulch. 

'Come ahead when you're ready, ' he retorted. 'I can see you fine upthere against the skyline. Start it going any time, Monte. '

His was the position of a man in desperate need for action and withlittle enough scope for his desire. But he had the hope thatLongstreet and Pony Lee might possibly have been the first at thecourt-house; were that to prove to be the case and were he on theground when they came in the morning, he would in the end haveprevented a tangle and the long delay and intricate trouble ofdispossessing Courtot's agents. Further, his mood was one in which hewould have been glad to have Monte 'start it going. '

Monte and his companions spoke quietly among themselves a second time. Then, with never another word to him, they withdrew and disappeared. An immense silence shut down about him. He knew that they had not gonefar and that they would be heard from before long. For they were notthe men to let go so easily. But Monte Devine, plainly the brains ofthe crowd, was a cool hand who played as safe a game as circumstancesallowed. 

He sat down with his back to a fallen boulder. He was thinking thatperhaps they were waiting for the dawn; by daylight they would have allthe best of it and might close in on him from three sides. But whenthe night wind blowing up the gulch brought him the smell of deadleaves burning, when he saw a quick tongue of flame on one bank andthen another, like a reflection in a mirror, on the other bank, heunderstood. It was like a Monte Devine play. Presently the dry grasswould be burning all along the draw; the flames would sweep by him andin their light he would stand forth as in the light of day. Then, ifthere were a single rifle among the three men, he would have not somuch as a chance to fight. Even if they had nothing but revolvers, theodds were all on their side. 

And it was like Jim Courtot's play, too, to clear out and leave hisagents to deal with the man he hated. All in the world that Courtotever wanted was to win; the means were nothing. If his enemy went downby another man's bullet than his own, so much the better for JimCourtot, who had always enough to answer for as it was. 

'This belongs to Helen Longstreet, ' Howard told himself steadily. 'Iam going to hold it for her if it's in the cards. '

He withdrew a little further. Then, with a sudden inspiration, heclambered silently up the sloping bank. The men who had lighted thefires would have circled about to come upon him from the other side. He was right. As he thrust his head above the top of the bank he sawtwo figures running in the direction that he had judged they wouldtake. He pulled himself up. A loosened rock rolled noisily into thegulch. They heard it and stopped. He knew when they saw him and knewwho they were as he heard them call to each other. They were Ed Trueand Monte Devine. And Ed True, as he called, whipped out his revolverand fired. 

'He's on this side, Bettins, ' called Monte loudly. 'Take your time. '

He had not fired nor had Howard. Ed True, however, lacked the coolnerve and emptied his revolver. Monte cursed him for a fool. 

'You couldn't hit a barn that far off in this light, ' he shouted. 'Take your time, can't you?'

Howard's lips tightened. That was Monte Devine for you. Steady andcool as a rock. 

'We've got the best of you, Al, ' called Monte warningly. 'Better crawlout while you got the chance. '

'Go to hell!' Howard told him succinctly. And knowing that the man hadbeen right when he had said you couldn't hit a barn at that distanceand in that light, he came forward suddenly. For in a little theburning grass would be behind him and outlined against it the target ofhis body would be a mark for anybody to hit. 

Suddenly, having reloaded, True fired again. But he was not so hurriednow. He fired once and waited. This time the bullet had not flown sofar afield as the first shots; Howard heard its shrill cleaving of theair. He saw that Monte was moving to one side. Again he understoodthe man's intention. Monte planned to put him between two fires. Howard jerked up his own gun. 

The two explosions came simultaneously, his and Monte's. There was abrief silence. Plainly no bullet had yet found its mark. True firedagain. His bullet whined by and Howard realized that the man wascoming closer every time. He turned a little and, 'taking his time, 'as Monte was doing, answered True's fire. There was a little squeal ofpain from True, a grunt of satisfaction from Howard, a second shot fromMonte. Howard saw that True had spun about and fallen. He saw, further, that Monte had come a step nearer and had stopped. In alittle Bettins would be to reckon with. It was still close enough fora chance hit, too far for absolute accuracy. Walking slowly, realizingthat he had but four shots left and that those gone he would never begiven time to reload, Howard came half a dozen paces toward Montebefore he stopped. He heard True's groaning curse; a spat of flamefrom where the man lay showed him that he was still to be counted on. But his shooting would be apt to be wild and he must be forgotten untilDevine was dealt with. 

He was near enough to make out the gesture as Monte raised his arm. And he was ready. Howard fired first; he saw the flare and heard thereport of Monte's gun and knew that he had missed. But Monte had notmissed. There was a searing pain across Howard's outer left arm, nearthe shoulder. The pain came and was gone, like the flash of the gun;remained only a mounting rage in Howard's brain. Three shots left andthree men still to fight. A shot for each man and none to waste, orthe tale would be told for Alan Howard. And there would be occasionfor Jim Courtot's jeering laugh tomorrow. 

Before the smoke had cleared from Monte's gun Howard leaped closer, andat this close range fired. He saw Monte reel back. He knew that EdTrue was still shooting, but he did not care. Monte was stumbling, saving himself from falling, straightening again, lifting his gun. Butbefore the swaying figure could answer the call of the cool braindirecting it, Howard sprang in upon him and struck with his clubbedrevolver. And Monte Devine, his finger crooking to the trigger as theblow fell, went down heavily from the impact of the gun-barrel againsthis head. Ed True emptied his cylinder and cursed and began filling itagain. 

Howard stood a moment over Monte Devine. Then he took up the fallenrevolver in his left hand and turned to True. 

'Chuck your gun to me, Ed, ' he commanded sternly, 'or I'll get youright next time. '

True damned him violently. Then he groaned, and a moment later therewas the sound of his revolver hurled from him, clattering among thestones. Howard took it up, shoved it into his pocket and turned towardthe gulch. While he sought for a sight of Bettins he hastily filledthe empty chambers of his own weapon. 

Now only he realized how brief a time had elapsed since Ed True's firstshot. The grass fire was blazing, but had crept up the draw only a fewfeet. And Bettins had not yet had the time to come from the otherside, down into the gulch and up on this side. He saw Bettins; the manwas standing still staring toward his fallen companions. The fireleaped higher, its light danced out in widening circles, touching atlast the spot where Howard stood, where Ed True and Monte Devine lay. 

'Well, Bettins?' called Howard abruptly. 

'What about you? Are you coming over?'

Bettins was silent a moment. The light flickered on the gun in hishand. Presently he raised his voice to inquire anxiously:

'Hurt much, Monte? And you, True?'

No answer from Monte. True shrieked at him: 'Come, over and plug him, Bettins. For God's sake, plug the damn cowman. '

Still Bettins hesitated. 

'Monte dead?' he demanded. 

'How the hell do I know?' complained True. 

'Come, plug him, Bettins. '

This time Bettins' reply was lost in a sudden shout of voices risingfrom the lower end of the flat. The vague forms of several horsemenappeared; there came the thunderous beat of flying hoofs. Howard'slips grew tight-pressed. True lifted himself on his elbow. 

'It's Jim coming back!' he called triumphantly. 

'This way, Jim!'

But the answering shout, closer now, was unmistakably the voice ofYellow Barbee. And with him rode half a dozen men and, among them agirl. 

Chapter XVIII

A Town is Born

The fire, spreading and burning brightly now, shone on the faces makinga ring about Alan Howard and the two men lying on the ground. WithYellow Barbee had come John Carr, Longstreet and Helen, and two of theDesert Valley men, Chuck Evans and Dave Terril. They looked swiftlyfrom Howard to the two men whom he had shot, then curiously at Howardagain. 

'Jim Courtot, Al?' asked Carr, for Monte Devine's face was in shadow. 

Howard shook his head. 

'No such luck, John, ' he said briefly. 'Just Monte Devine and Ed True. Bettins is over yonder; he didn't mix in. '

'I hope, ' said Longstreet nervously, 'that you haven't started anytrouble on my account. '

'No trouble at all, ' said Howard dryly. Yellow Barbee laughed and wentto look at Devine. Ed True was still cursing where he had proppedhimself up with his back to a rock. 

'This is apt to be bad business, Al. ' It was John Carr speakingheavily, his voice unusually blunt and harsh. 'I saw Pony Lee, and hetold me that Longstreet here hasn't a leg to stand on. Devine filed onthe claim; he and his men got here ahead of us; neither Miss Helen norI nor any one but you can go into court and swear that Longstreet everso much as said that he had made a find. I was hoping we would gethere before you started anything. '

Howard looked at his friend in amazement. He knew that the discoverywas Longstreet's by right; to his way of thinking the simplest thing inthe world was to hold and to fight for the property of his friends. Hewould have said that John Carr would have done the same thing were Carrin his boots. He had taken another man's quarrel upon his ownshoulders to-night, and asked no questions; he had plunged into a fightagainst odds and had gotten away with it and no help asked; thefighting heat was still in his blood, and it seemed to him that his oldfriend John Carr was finding fault with him. 

They had all dismounted by now. Longstreet had slid to the ground, letgo his horse's reins and was fidgeting up and down, back and forth, inan access of nervous excitement. Now he began talking quickly, failingto understand in the least what effect his rushing words would have onthe man who had taken up his fight. 

'The thing is of no consequence, not the least in the world. Come, letthem have it. It is only a gold mine, and haven't I told you all thetime that for me there is no difficulty in locating gold? I am sorryall of this has happened. They're here first; they have filed on it;let them have it. '

Howard's face no longer showed amazement. In the flickering light hismouth was hard and bitter, set in the implacable lines of sternresentment. Between Carr and Longstreet they made it seem that he hadmerely made a fool of himself. Well, maybe he had. He shrugged hisshoulders and turned away. 

'I know you did it for me, ' Longstreet began, having a glimpse of thebitterness in Alan's heart. 

'And you mustn't think----'

Howard wheeled on him. 

'I didn't do it for you. ' he snapped irritably. 'I tried the only wayI knew to help save the mine for Helen. We'd do it yet if you weren'ta pack of damned rabbits. '

He pushed by and laid his hand on the mane of the horse Dave Terrilrode. 

'Give me your horse, Dave, ' he said quietly. 'I'm on my way home. You'll find Barbee's down under the cliff. '

Dave Terril was quick to obey. But before his spurred boot-heel hadstruck the turf Helen had came running through the men about Howard, her two hands out, her voice thrilling and vibrant as she cried:

'There is only one man among you, one real man, and that is AlanHoward! He was not wrong; he was right! And no matter what happens tothe gold, I had rather have a man like Alan Howard do a thing like thatfor me than have all of the gold in the mountains!'

Her excitement, too, ran high, her words came tripping over oneanother, heedless and extravagant. But Howard suddenly glowed, andwhen she put her hands out to him he took them both and squeezed themhard. 

'Why, God bless you, you're a brick!' he cried warmly. 'And, in spiteof the rest of 'em, I'm glad I did make a fool of myself!'

From his wounded arm a trickle of blood had run down to his hand. Helen cried out as she saw the smear across the sleeve of his shirt. 

'He's hurt!' she exclaimed. 

He laughed at her. 

'It would be worth it if I were, ' he told her gently. 'But I'm not. 'He slipped his foot into the stirrup. 'Dave, ' he said over hisshoulder, 'you and Chuck had better look at Monte. I don't know howbad his hurt is. Do what ever you can for him. If I'm wanted, I'm atthe ranch. '

But Helen, carried out of herself by the excitement of the moment andunconscious that she was clinging to him, pleaded with him not to goyet. 

'Wait until we decide what we are going to do, ' she told him earnestly. 'Won't you, please?'

'You bet I will!' he answered, his voice ringing with his eagerness todo anything she might ask of him. 'If _you_ want me to stay, here Istick. '

He dropped the reins and with her at his side turned back to theothers. Already two men were kneeling beside Monte Devine. ChuckEvans, who had got there first, looked up and announced:

'He's come to, Al. He looks sick, but he ain't hurt much, I'd say fora guess. Not for a tough gent like him. How about it, Monte?'

Monte growled something indistinct, but when at the end of it hedemanded a drink of whisky his voice was both clear and steady. Chucklaughed. Thereafter those who knew most of such matters looked overboth Monte's and Ed True's injuries and gave what first-aid they could. It was Chuck's lively opinion that both gents were due for a littlequiet spell at a hospital, but that they'd be getting in trouble againinside a month or so. 

'You can't kill them kind, ' he concluded lightly. 'Not so easy. '

They called to Bettins, but he held back upon the far side of the gulchand finally withdrew and disappeared. Then Longstreet, who had beenrestless but quiet-tongued for ten minutes, exclaimed quickly:

'We must get these two men over to our camp right away, where we canhave better light, and put them into bed until a physician can besummoned. Think of the horrible situation which would arise if theydied!' He shuddered. Then he turned to Howard and extended his hand. His voice shook slightly as he said hurriedly: 'Old chap, don't thinkthat I don't appreciate what you have attempted for us; it was quitethe most amazingly splendid thing I ever heard of! But now, withmatters as they stand, there is nothing for us to do but withdraw. Letthem have the mine; it is blood-stained and ill-starred. I wouldn'thave a thing to do with it if they returned it to me. '

'But, papa, ' cried Helen hotly, 'just think! They have stolen it fromus, they have tried to murder----'

'My dear, ' cut in Longstreet sternly, 'I trust that you will saynothing further about it. I have made up my mind; I am a man of theworld and an older and cooler mind than you. Leave this to me. '

Howard heard her deep breath, slowly drawn, slowly expelled, and sawher face looking white and tense; he knew that her teeth were set, thather heart was filled with rebellion. But she made no answer, knowingthe futility of mere words to move her father in his present mood. Instead, she turned away from him and looked out across the gulch alongboth banks of which the fires were now raging. Nor did she turn againwhile Monte and True were placed in the saddles which were to carrythem to the camp. 

'A moment, Mr. Longstreet, ' said Howard, as they were starting. 'Am Ito understand that you absolutely refuse to make a fight for your ownrights?'

'In this particular instance, absolutely!' said Longstreet emphatically. 

'Then, ' pursued Howard, 'I have a suggestion to make. We are allfriends here: suppose that each one of us stakes out a claim justadjoining the ones you have lost. Certainly they might have somevalue. '

But Longstreet shook his head impatiently. 

'I am through with the whole mess, ' he declared, waving his hands. 'Iwon't have a thing to do with it, and I won't allow Helen to touch it. Further, the other claims would have no value in my eyes; the spot thathas been stolen from me is the only spot in the gulch that I would givea dollar for. Come on, Helen. '

'We'll follow you, ' said Helen quietly. 

The others moved away. John Carr, who had not spoken since his firstwords, stood hesitatingly looking at the two figures silhouettedagainst the fire. Then he too moved away, going with the others and insilence. 

'Tell me about it, ' said Helen. She dropped down and sat with her chinin her hands, her eyes moody upon the rushing flames. 'Just whathappened. '

He sat by her and told her. His heart was still filled with hisbitterness and his voice told the fact. Presently she withdrew hergaze from the gulch and turned it upon him; she had never seen him sorelentlessly stern. Almost he frightened her. Then she noticed againthe stain upon his shoulder and this time insisted upon helping himmake a bandage. With his knife she slit the shirt sleeve; togetherthey got a handkerchief bound about the wound. It was not deep nor wasit in any way dangerous, but Helen winced and paled before the job wasdone. Then their eyes met and clung together and for a little whilethey were silent, and gradually the colour came back into the girl'scheeks. 

'Are you tired?' he asked presently. 'Or hungry? If not, and you careto sit here with me for an hour or two, maybe a little more, I canpromise to show you a sight you will never forget. '

'What is it?' she asked curiously, wondering if he meant a moonriseover the far desert mountains. 

'It is the birth of a mining camp. For there will be one here beforemorning. '

'Surely not so soon? Who will know?'

'Who?' he grunted disgustedly. 'Everybody! Down in San Ramon Pony Leeknows; at the court-house it is known. Men give tips to their friends. Courtot's crowd knows. Out here my men know; Carr and Barbee know. Already there are a hundred men, maybe several times a hundred, whoknow. And you may be sure that already they are coming like a train ofants. Once gold has been uncovered the secret is out. Pony Lee swearsthe desert winds carry the news. '

Howard was entirely correct in his surmise, saving in the time hejudged they must wait. Less than an hour had passed and the grass firewas still spreading with a fierce crackling sound and myriad sparks, when the vanguard of the gold-seekers came. Helen and Howard heardhorses' hoofs, rattling stones, impatient voices, and withdrew ahundred yards from the gulch and into the shadows of a ring of boulders. 

With the first came Bettins. His voice was the loudest, coming now andthen distinctly; he employed the name of Howard and cursed it; he saidsomething about his 'pals' Devine and True. A man to whom he wastalking laughed at him. Thereafter half a dozen forms swarmed downinto the gulch; the fire on either side of them was dying out along thegulch's edge; they cursed its heat when it offended them, tookadvantage of its light at all times, and more like ants than everappeared to be running back and forth foolishly and aimlessly. But, apparently, Bettins got his stakes and his friends' back and the menwith whom he had returned hastily staked out their own claims, allfeverishly and by crude guesswork. There was perhaps not a man amongthem who knew the first thing about mining. Helen watched them insheer fascination. Down there half in light, half in shadow, dartingthis way and that, they were like little gnomes playing some wild gameof their own. 

'They act like madmen, ' she whispered. 'They run about as ifeverything had to be done in a minute. '

'Between them the crowd down there don't own, I'd say, fifty dollars. Each one is figuring that he has his chance to be a millionaireto-morrow. And they know that more men are coming. That's the way menthink when they're in the gold rush. Look, there come some more!'

This time there were three men. They broke into a run when they heardvoices; perhaps they had hoped to be first. Down into the bed of thegulch they plunged; one of them slipped and rolled and cursed; menlaughed, and with the laughter dying in their throats broke off to yella warning to some one to keep his feet off a claim already staked out. Within an hour after the return of Bettins there were a score of men onthe spot; again and again rose sharp words as every man, alert toprotect his own interests, was ready for a quarrel. They draggedstones to mark their boundaries; they cut and hammered stakes, theyleft their chosen sites now and then and altered their first judgmentsand restaked somewhere else. They swarmed up the banks of the gulch onboth sides, they hastened back and forth, they staked everywhere. Asthe time passed more and more came plunging into the orgy of gold untilat last the night was never quiet. Harsh words passed and once blowswere struck and a man went down and lay still. Another time there wasthe report of a gun and a boom of many voices commanding order and thatquarrels be taken to a safe distance and out of the way of busy men. 

'It's dreadful, ' whispered Helen. 'They're like wild animals. '

'It's just the gold fever, ' he returned. 'Poor devils! they are drunkwith their visions. '

But Helen wondered if they were capable of visions. Down in theshadow-filled sink they were to her imagination like so many swineplunging into a monster trough. When Alan suggested, 'We've seen, andnow maybe we had better be going, ' she rose without a word or backwardglance and went with him. But Howard, looking over his shoulder, sawstill other men coming. He himself began to wonder whence they hadcome: by now, it seemed to him, both Big Run and San Ramon must haveemptied themselves like bags of wheat slashed with a knife. 

They walked swiftly until the din of the gold-seekers was lost to theirears. Then slowly they strolled on, silence enwrapping them, Helen'seyes wandering away to the glory of the stars, Howard's contented withthe girl's face. After a while Helen, feeling the intentness of hislook, turned toward him with a strange little smile which came and wentfleetingly. She stopped a moment, still looking at him. 

'Your country has done something to me, ' she said thoughtfully, 'eventhough I have been out here only a few weeks. For one thing, when Ifirst came I thought that I knew all about men and that they werepretty much all alike. I am finding out that they are not at all alikeand that I don't understand them. '

'No, they are not all alike, and some men are hard to make out, Isuppose, ' he said when she paused. 

'Men are more violent than I thought men were nowadays, ' she added. 'They are stronger; they are fiercer. I used to think that a girl wasa wretched little coward to be afraid of any man. Now I would beafraid of many of them I have seen in this land that you like to callyour country. '

He understood that in her brain had formed a vision of his fight withDevine and Ed True, and that, blurring that image, she was still seeingthe picture of the dark forms rushing down into the gulch. She beganto move on again, and he went at her side making no reply and communingwith his own thoughts. She did not stop again until they came close tothe canvas-walled cabin and saw the light shining wanly through and theshadows of the men inside. Then she lifted her face so that it wasclear to him in the starlight and said to him slowly:

'I am going in and see if I can help with the wounded men now. Ishould have gone at first, I suppose. Maybe there is something I cando. You wouldn't want them to die, would you?'

'No, ' he returned, 'I would not want them to die. '

In the silence which followed he could see that she was seeking to readhis face and that she was very, very thoughtful. 

'Tell me something, ' she said abruptly. 'If one of them were JimCourtot--would you want him to die?'

At the mention of Courtot's name she made out a quick hardening of hismouth; she even saw, or fancied, an angry gathering of his brows. To-night's work was largely the work of Jim Courtot, and because of itDry Gulch, which might have poured great heaps of gold at Helen's feet, was being wrangled over by a hundred men. He thought of that and hethought of other things, of how Courtot had fired on him from the darklong ago, of how Courtot was hunting him after Courtot's own tenaciousfashion. 

'Why do you ask that?' he demanded sharply. 

She did not reply. Instead she turned from him and looked at thestars. And then she withdrew her eyes and turned them toward the lightgleaming palely through the walls of canvas. But at last she liftedher face again to Howard. 

'I'll go in now. And maybe I am tired after all. It has been a day, hasn't it? And please know that I felt that you did the right thingto-night, and that I don't know another man who would have been manenough to do it. Good night. '

'Good night, ' he said, and watched her as she went into the house. 

Chapter XIX

Sanchia Persistent

Thus, upon the barren flanks of Dry Gulch, a town was born. Motheredby the stubborn desert that appears sterile and is not, it was asprawling, ungainly, ill-begotten thing. In the night it came; in thedawn it grew; during the first day it assumed lustiness and aninsolence that was its birthright. And, like any welcome child, therewas a name awaiting it. Men laughed as the unceremonious christeningwas performed. A half-drunken vagabond from no one knew where hadstaked out his claim and drained his bottle. 'Here's lookin' atSanchia's Town!' he cried out, and smashed his bottle against a rock. 

It appeared that every one had heard the tale of Longstreet's discoveryand of Sanchia Murray's manoeuvre. They made high fun of Longstreetand declared that Sanchia was a cool one. The mere fact that she was awoman enlisted their sympathies in an affair wherein they had nointerest. They were doomed to second choice and deemed it as well forSanchia to have had first as any one. When a narrow-headed individualremarked that he had heard that the widow was getting nothing out ofit, but that Courtot and his crowd had cheated her, they hooted andjeered at him until he withdrew wondering at their insane attitude. Itwas generally taken for granted that Sanchia Murray knew what she wasabout. If she chose to hunt in couple with Jim Courtot, that was herbusiness. 

A town is something more than a group of men encamped. It connotesmany social facilities; first among which comes the store and, incertain parts of the world, the saloon. Sanchia's Town was, upon thefirst day, a town in these essentials. Shortly after dawn a string ofthree six-horse teams crawled across the lowlands and, by a circuitousway, to the camp. One wagon was heaped with bits of second-hand lumberand a jumbled assortment of old tents and strips of canvas. In it, also, were hammers, saws and nails. The two other wagons were filledwith boxes and bags--and kegs. There were two men to each team. Arrived they gave immediate evidence that their employer had chosenwell. One of them, a crooked-eyed carpenter named Emberlee, directed, hammer in hand. Before noon he had caused to grow up an architecturalmonstrosity, hideous but sturdy. It was without floor, but it hadwalls; wide gaps were doors and windows, but there was a canvas roof. 

While his five companions brought their parcels into the place, Emberlee climbed aloft and nailed up a big board upon which his ownhand, as the wagon had jostled along, had painted a sign. It spelled:JIM COURTOT'S HOUSE. Then he descended and began a hurried grouping ofcertain articles upon shelves and in corners. By the time the camp wasready for a noon meal the word had flown about that at Jim Courtot'sHouse one could get food, water and a widely-known substitute forwhisky. Meantime Tony Moraga had come: he stood behind a bar hastilymade of two planks set on packing cases and sold a tin cup of water fortwenty-five cents, a glass of liquor for fifty. There were calls forboth. Emberlee, plainly a jack-of-all-trades, began displaying hiswares. He offered dried meats, tinned goods, crackers, cheese andother comestibles at several times desert prices. And he, too, chinkedmany a silver dollar and minted gold piece into his cash-box, becausewhen men rush to gold diggings they are not likely to go empty-handed. Shortly after noon the three wagons returned to Big Run for moresupplies. 

Obviously, though already Jim Courtot had departed from Dry Gulch whenAlan Howard came upon his agents, he was no less active than they withrich gains in sight. It is to be doubted if the man slept at allduring the first three days and nights. He had made his own list offoods and tobaccos and alcohols; he had selected men for his work. Down in San Juan men said: 'Jim Courtot is playing his luck again. 'For though information was garbled long before it reached the missiontown, yet always it was understood that Jim Courtot was playing to winheavily--he and Sanchia Murray. 

Those hours which, in Sanchia's Town, had been given over to frenzy andthe fury of feverish endeavour, had dragged by wearily and anxiouslyfor the inmates of Longstreet's half-mile-distant cabin. For bothMonte Devine and Ed True the night was one of bitter rage and pain. Longstreet was gentle with them, bringing them water, asking them oftenof their wants; Helen ministered to them silently, a strange new lookin her eyes. Often she went to the door and stood looking off into themoonlit night, across the rolling hills and down into the wide sweep ofDesert Valley. Carr remained with them all night. It was as well tobe on hand, he suggested, if anything happened. He seemed scarcelyconscious of the presence of the two wounded men; tilted back in hischair, smoking one cigar after another, he scarcely for an instant lostsight of Helen. 

In the morning early there was the sound of hoofs and then men'svoices. It was Carr who went to the door. 

'It is Bettins and a couple of other men, ' he said over his shoulder. 'Come for Devine and True, I guess. ' And still without turning, hedemanded, 'Ready to go, Monte?'

'Damn right, ' said Monte. 

Between Carr and Longstreet, Monte shambled to the door. Here he wasturned over to his friends, who got him into his saddle. Then, assisted as Monte had been, and cursing at every step, Ed True passedthrough the door. The men outside accepted the two wounded men withonly a few low words; in another moment the five horses were carryingtheir riders slowly toward Sanchia's Town. Carr returning saw thewhisk of Helen's skirt as she disappeared within the little roompartitioned off at the rear and knew that she had gone to fling herselfdown upon her bed. He looked after her as though he still half hopedshe were coming back if only to say a belated 'good night. ' Then heand Longstreet made coffee and drank it perfunctorily. After breakfastCarr left, saying that he would ride over to have a look at the newcamp, and would drop in again some time during the afternoon. 

'If I am not making a nuisance of myself, ' he said as Longstreetfollowed him to the door, 'I should like to see what I can of youduring the next few days. And of Miss Helen, ' he added with utterfrankness and clear meaning. 'I have business which will call me backEast before long. '

'Come as often as you can, my dear fellow, ' invited Longstreet. Buthis eyes had wandered toward the mining site which should have beenhis, and his mind seemed to be less than half busied with Carr's words. Carr, turning in the saddle, narrowed his eyes upon the universityman's face and, thinking that he had caught his thought, said bluntly:

'It's an infernal shame. It's all yours by right, and----'

'Oh, ' cried Longstreet grandly, 'I'm not worrying about a littlediggings like that! Let them have it! Next time I'll show them a realmine. '

'Well, I wish you luck, ' rejoined Carr. But there was no greatconviction in his tone, since in his mind there was little expectationthat lightning was going to strike twice in the same place. However, the caution came to his lips involuntarily: 'If there is a next time, I'd be mighty careful whom I told about it. It will pay you to lookout for that Murray woman. '

Longstreet's face was puzzled and troubled. 

'It does begin to look as though she gave me the--the double cross, doesn't it?' he said as though he were afraid he must believe the worstof Sanchia Murray despite his wish in the matter. 

'It certainly does, ' grunted Carr. 'She's absolutely no good. Everybody knows it. Fight shy of her. Well, so long. '

'So long, ' repeated Longstreet absently. 

Carr rode away. Longstreet's eyes, following the galloping horse, werestill puzzled. 'I'm learning a thing or two, ' he told himself soberlyas he went back into the cabin. Many times he nodded his headthoughtfully. 'I've lived too long in another sort of world; now I amcoming to grips with real life, real men and women. There's a new setof rules to grasp. Well, ' and he straightened his thin body and aflickering smile played over his lips, 'I can learn. As Barbee says ofstud poker: "You've got to set tight and keep your trap shut and youreye peeled. "'

Helen slept soundly all morning. Longstreet dozed, studied the maps hehad made during the last week and pottered. At noon they lunchedtogether, neither having a great deal to say. Helen regarded herfather more than ever as a baby who ought to be scolded and lessoned;still, like any doting mother, she found excuses for him and toldherself that he had been amply punished for his indiscretion. She, too, opined that he had learned a lesson. Consequently she coddled himto such an extent that Longstreet remarked the fact and began to wonderjust what Helen wanted now; no doubt she was going to ask something ofhim and was preparing the way after the approved and time-honouredcustom. 

But the day wore on with never a favour asked. In the drowsy afternoonHelen coaxed her father into her room and dropped the shades andordered him to sleep, telling him that he looked like a ghost of hisformer rugged beauty. Then she sank down listlessly upon the doorstep, brooding, her eyes wandering through the green fields of Desert Valley. Her musings were disturbed by the clatter of shod hoofs across therugged plateau; she looked up quickly, her eyes brightening. Then shesaw that it was John Carr returning, and into her look there came anexpression much resembling that which had been so much to-day in herfather's--one of uncertainty. 

Carr staked out his horse before he came to her. Then he sat down on abox near the doorstep and studied her gravely before he spoke. Helensmiled. 

'You are thinking unpleasant things about some one, ' she statedquickly. 'Has the world turned into a terribly serious place all of asudden?'

There was little levity in Carr's make-up at any time; just now hisspeech was as sober as his look. 

'I am thinking about you and your father, to begin with, ' he repliedgravely. 'I have been over yonder all day. ' He swept out an impatientarm toward Dry Gulch. 'They call it Sanchia's Town. And it is a townalready. I saw Nate Kemble there; he's the big man of the QuigleyMines, and you see how long it has taken him to get on the spot. Yourfather evidently made no mistake in his location. There's gold there, all right!'

Helen waited expectantly for him to go on. For certainly the fact thather father had been able to find gold was no cause for Carr's frowningeyes. 

'My blood has been boiling all day, ' Carr blurted out angrily. 'Longstreet should be a rich man to-day and he has gained nothing. Isaw Nate Kemble pay one man ten thousand dollars for his claim; Kemblewouldn't pay that if the thing were not worth a great deal more. Kemble doesn't make many mistakes. Your father stumbled on to theplace and then he couldn't hold it. When do you think he will makeanother discovery? And, if his lucky star should lead him arightagain, is he the man to cash in on his luck? Don't you see, Helen, that James Edward Longstreet in this man's land is a fish out of water?'

'I understand what you mean, ' Helen nodded slowly. Again her lookwandered through the fields stretching out far below. 'And you areright. I didn't want papa to come in the first place; now, as you say, he is only wasting time. ' She smiled a little tenderly. 'He is just adear old babe in the woods, ' she concluded softly. 

Carr's approval of her mounted swiftly to admiration. They loweredtheir voices and spoke at length of the professor and of what should bedone for him. They agreed perfectly that, while he was an unusuallyfine technical man and an able instructor in matters of geologicaltheorizing, he was not the man to wander with a prospector's pickacross these rugged lands. 

'Even grant the extremely unlikely, ' concluded Carr hastily as theyheard the subject of their discussion moving about in the cabin, 'andadmit that he may chance upon a second strike. What then? Why, Sanchia and Devine and Courtot and a crowd of hangers-on have theireyes on him. They'd oust him again with not the shadow of a doubt or asecond's hesitation. '

Helen nodded and they went in together. 

Carr stayed on to supper. Longstreet looked rested from his nap, bright and eager and as usual interested in everything in the world. Carr had bought a new hat yesterday; Longstreet tried it on andapproved of it extravagantly. He asked what it cost and jingled hisfew coins, admitting ruefully that he'd have to wait until he uncoveredhis 'real mine. ' Just the same, he proclaimed brightly, clothes didhelp make the man, and inside a year when he was decked out entirely tohis own liking and a tenderfoot saw him, there would be no suspectingthat Longstreet was not a Westerner born and bred. He put the hat awayand sat down with them at the table. As he mentioned in such amatter-of-fact way his intention of tarrying a year, Carr and Helenglanced at each other significantly. And Carr after his direct fashionopened his campaign. 

'There are other things than gold mines, and you were not made for thiscountry, ' he said. 'What would you say to going back East if I showedyou the chance there to clean up more money than you'll ever see outhere? I have been thinking about you, and I know the place whereyou'll fit in. '

This was all news to Helen, and her look showed her eager interest. Longstreet smiled and shook his head. 

'That's kind of you, ' he said warmly. 'But I like it out here. '

'But, papa, ' cried Helen, 'surely you should hear Mr. Carr'sproposition! It is not merely kind of him; it is wonderful if he canhelp us that way, and it is wise. '

'No, ' said Longstreet. 'Carr won't think me ungrateful. I told themin the East that there was nothing simpler than the fact that a manlike me, knowing what I know, can discover gold in vast quantities. First, it is universally conceded that the auriferous depositsremaining untouched are vastly in excess of those already found andworked. Second, all of my life I have made a profound study ofgeognosy and geotectonic geology. Now, it is not only the money; moneyI count as a rather questionable gift, anyway. But it is my ownreputation. What I have said I could do, I will do. ' And though hiswords came with his engaging smile, he seemed as firmly set in hisdetermination as a rock hardened in cement. 

Helen, who knew her father, sighed and turned from him to Carr. Thenher eyes wandered through the open door, across the flat lands and downto the distant hills of Desert Valley. 

'I should not speak as I am going to speak, ' Carr was saying, 'ifmatters were not exactly as they are. To begin with, I take it that Ihave been accepted as a friend. Hence you will forgive me if I appearto presume and will know that I have no love of interfering in anotherman's personal affairs. Then, I must say what I have to say now: in afew days I am leaving you. I've got to go to New York. '

'Oh, ' said Helen. 'I am sorry. '

'You are kind to me, ' he acknowledged gravely. 'And I am sorry to go. Unless you and your father will consent to come also. Now, I am goingto have my say--and, Mr. Longstreet, I hope you will forgive me if I amassuming a privilege which is not mine. I take it that you have nogreat amount of ready cash. Further, that your income has been that ofmost college men, who are all underpaid--say, three or four or fivethousand a year. I have talked with Nate Kemble about you. Hisconcern is a tremendously big affair with head offices in New York. Kemble is a friend of mine: I own stock in his company: he willacknowledge, quite as I am prepared to acknowledge, that there is aplace for an expert of your type in the company. And the place willpay you, from the jump, ten thousand dollars. '

Helen fairly gasped. Despite her father's talk of the extravagant sumshe meant to wrest from the bowels of the earth, she had never dreamedof so princely an income for them. Longstreet, however, merely shook asmiling head. 

'You're a real friend, John, ' he said. 'But here we stick. And, whenyou come down to dollars and cents, I'll eat your new hat for you if Ican't make ten times your ten thousand in the first year. '

Before such amazing confidence Carr stalled. But he did not give up;it wasn't his habit of thought to relinquish anything which he hadundertaken. Still for a little he was silent, studying his man. AgainHelen was staring out through the open door. 

'Some one is coming, ' she announced. Then, her tone quickening, 'It isMr. Howard; I knew he would be riding over before night. I know hishorse, ' she explained hastily, flushing a trifle under Carr's eyeswhich told her that he was surprised that she could tell who it was atsuch a distance. 'It is the horse he rode the first time we ever sawhim. There is some one with him. It looks like----'

She did not say whom it looked like. Carr and Longstreet looked out. The second rider was a woman; her horse was not Sanchia Murray's whitemare, but none the less they all knew that with Alan Howard cameSanchia. Carr's heavy brows gathered blackly. The flush died out ofHelen's face and her lips tightened. Longstreet sprang up and went tothe door. 

'If it is Mrs. Murray, ' he called back, something like triumph in hisexcited voice, 'and if she is coming here--why, then maybe there was amistake after all. '

'She is not coming here!' cried Helen hotly. 'Papa, I will not havethat woman in the house. After the way she has cheated you, fooledyou, lied to you----'

'Come, come, my dear, ' chided Longstreet. 'No one must be judged andcondemned unheard. And remember that she is coming with Mr. Howard. '

Helen looked hopelessly at Carr. There were times when she utterlydespaired of her father. But she could find comfort in the thoughtthat if that Sanchia woman sought to perpetrate any more of hervillainy and deceit, she was going to stand at her father's sidethrough all of it. Meantime the two riders came on swiftly. As theydrew up at the door Helen saw that Howard looked worried and ill atease and that Sanchia Murray's eyes were red as though with copiousweeping. Whereas Helen sniffed audibly. 

'The horrid cat, ' she said. 

Sanchia began pouring out a torrent of confused words which Howard'scurt speech interrupted. As he lifted his hat his eyes were for Helenalone: she flashed him a scornful look and turned away from him. Thenhe turned to Longstreet. 

'Mr. Longstreet, ' he said sharply, 'I want you to know my position inthis matter. As I was starting Mrs. Murray came to the ranch. I wasnaturally astonished when she said that she was on her way to see you. I had thought, from what has happened, that you would be the last manin the world whom she would care to meet. She said, however, that shemust speak with you and that she hoped she could do something to rightmatters. When she asked for a fresh horse I loaned her one. That, ' heconcluded harshly, 'is all that I have to do with Sanchia Murray andall that I want to do with her. The rest is up to you. '

The spite in Sanchia's quick sidelong look was for Howard alone. 

'Alan is rather hard on me, I think, ' she said quite simply as sheturned her eyes upon the three at the cabin door. 'Especially, ' andagain she gave him that look for him alone, 'after what has beenbetween us. But I must not think of that now. Oh, Mr. Longstreet, ifyou only knew how this thing has nearly killed me----'

She broke off, hiding her face in her hands, her body swaying in thesaddle as though surely she would fall. Longstreet looked concerned. 

'Get down and come in, ' he exclaimed. 'You are utterly exhausted. Helen, my dear, a cup of coffee, quick. This poor lady looks as thoughshe hadn't slept or rested or eaten since we saw her last. '

'How could I eat or rest or sleep?' cried Sanchia brokenly. 'After allthat has happened? Oh, I wish I were dead!'

Helen did not budge for the coffee. Her eyes were blazing. Sanchiaslid down from the saddle and came to the door. Longstreet hastened toher side and the two went in together. Helen, without looking towardHoward, followed, determined that she would hear whatever it was thatSanchia Murray had to say. 

'Come in, Howard, ' Longstreet remembered to say. 'We're having supper. Both you and Mrs. Murray will eat with us. '

Sanchia bathed her eyes and they all sat down. When Howard lookedtoward Helen she ignored him. Outside Carr had demanded, 'What inhell's name made you bring that woman here?' and Alan had rejoined, 'Icouldn't stop her coming, could I?' And now the two had nothing to sayto each other. Longstreet, nervous and impatient for whateverexplanations were coming, fidgeted constantly until Sanchia beganspeaking. 

'When I learned what had happened, ' she said, 'I thought at first thatI could not live to endure it. I could have shrieked; I could havekilled myself. To think that I had been the cause of it all. Oh, itwas hideous! But then I knew that I must live and that I must seeksomehow to make reparation. All of my life, as long as I live, I shallhope and try and work to undo what I have done. '

She was watching them all through her handkerchief, which she was usingto dab her eyes; of Longstreet she never for an instant lost sight. She saw the eagerness in his eyes and knew that it was an eagerness tobelieve in her. She saw Helen's anger and contempt; she saw Carr'sblack looks; she saw, too, how Howard kept his eyes always on Helen'sface, and she read what was so easy to read in them. It was herbusiness, her chief affair in life just now, to keep her two eyes wideopen; hence she saw, too, the look which Helen had flashed at thecattleman. And while she observed all of this she was speakingrapidly, almost incoherently, as though her one concern lay in thetragic error she had made. Had she been less than a very clever womanwho had long lived, and lived well, by her wits, she must have foundthe situation too much for her. But no one of her hearers, exceptingpossibly the one chiefly interested, failed to do Sanchia Murrayjustice for her cleverness. As it was, she did not fear the outcomefrom the outset. 

She told how she had been so overjoyed at Longstreet's news; how, forthat dear child Helen's sake, she had rejoiced; how she had for alittle felt less lonely in sharing a secret meant for a wonderfulbirthday surprise; how she had yearned to help in this glowing hour ofhappiness. She had tried to help Mr. Longstreet with Mr. Harkness atthe court-house; she had learned that he was out of town; she had beentold that his assistant was at the Montezuma House. In spite of herabhorrence of going to such a place she had gone, carried away by thehigh tide of excitement. And there she had been tricked intointroducing Mr. Longstreet to no less a terrible creature than MonteDevine. She hastened to add that she told Mr. Longstreet that she didnot know this man; he would bear her out in this; she too had beentricked. But she would never, never forgive herself. 

'Nor, ' said Helen's voice coldly, 'will I ever forgive you. Nor am Ithe fool to believe all these tales. Maybe you can make a fool of myfather, but----'

'Helen, Helen, ' expostulated Longstreet sternly, 'you are being hasty. At times like this one should seek to be kind and just. '

Again Helen's sniff was audible and eloquent. 

'Do you mean, ' she demanded, 'that you believe all of this nonsense?'

'I mean, my dear, that one should be deliberate. Mrs. Murray has madean explanation, she is plainly sick with grief at what has occurred. She has ridden straight to us. What more could one do? When you areolder, my dear, and have seen more of life you will know that the worldsometimes makes terrible mistakes. '

'You are so great-hearted!' sobbed Sanchia. 'So wonderful! There isnot another man in the world who would be even tolerant at a time likethis. And to think that it is you--you whom I have hurt. ' Her sobsovercame her. 

Helen flung herself angrily to her feet. 

'Papa, ' she cried, 'can't you see, can't you understand that this womanis determined to make a fool of you again? Hasn't she done it oncealready? Oh, are you going to be just a little baby in her hands?'

Sanchia lowered her handkerchief for a swift glance at Helen and thenat the other faces in the room. The sternness on Howard's and Carr'sfaces did not greatly concern her, for she saw written acrossLongstreet's countenance just about what she had counted on. AndHelen's words had simply succeeded in drawing his indignation towardhis daughter. Hence, wisely, Sanchia was content to be silent for aspell. Matters seemed to be going well enough left alone. 

Helen had meant to run out of doors, to close her ears to thismaddening discussion. She felt that it was either that or deliberatelyslap Sanchia Murray's face. Now, however, she sat down again, decidingwith a degree of acumen that Sanchia would prefer nothing to a_tête-à-tête_ with Longstreet. 

'After all, ' said Helen more quietly and with a look which was hard asit flashed across Sanchia's face to Howard's and then on, 'threshingall this over is valueless. Forgive her, father, ' she went oncontemptuously, 'if either of you will feel better for it, and don'tdetain her. We are going back East in a few days, anyway. '

Howard stared at her wonderingly as Carr nodded his approval of thespeech. But Longstreet spoke with considerable emphasis. 

'Aren't you rather premature in your announcement, my dear? I am notgoing back East at all. '

There might have been no discussion of the matter had he ended there. But seeing the various expressions called by his words to the facesabout the table, he added the challenge:

'Why should I go? Haven't I already demonstrated that I know what I amdoing? Isn't this the place for me?'

Helen answered him first and energetically. He should go, she criedhotly, because he had demonstrated nothing at all save that he was alamb in a den of wolves. He was a university man and not a mountaineeror desert Indian; he knew books and he did not know men; it was hisduty to himself and to his daughter to return home. The girl's colourdeepened and grew hot with her rapid speech, and Sanchia, sitting back, watching and listening, lost never a word. Before Longstreet couldshape a reply John Carr added his voice to Helen's plea. He said allthat he had said once before to-day; he elaborated his argument, whichto him appeared unanswerable. When he had done, always speakingquietly, he turned to Howard. 

'Don't you think I am right, Al?' he asked. 

'No!' replied Howard emphatically. 'I don't. Mr. Longstreet does knowhis business. He has located one mine in this short time. It was notchance; it was science. There is more gold left in these hills. Givehim time and a free swing, and he'll find it. '

Carr appeared amazed. 

'I can't imagine what makes you talk like that, Al, ' he said shortly. 'It's rather a serious thing with the Longstreets which way they movenow. You are deliberately encouraging him to buck a game which heought to leave to another type of man. '

'Deliberately is the right word, ' said Howard. 'And I can't quiteunderstand what makes you seek to discourage him and pack him off tothe East again. '

Carr was silent. Sanchia's eyes, very bright, grew brighter with akeen look of understanding. Very innocently she spoke. 

'Are you thinking of going East, too, Mr. Carr?' she asked. 

'Yes, ' snapped Carr. 'I am. What of it?'

'Oh, nothing, ' said Sanchia. But she laughed. Then as Longstreet wasopening his mouth to make his own statement, she cut in, turning tohim, speaking directly to him, in some subtle way giving the impressionthat she was quite oblivious of anyone but of him and herself. 

'You mustn't go, ' she said softly. She studied his face and then put alight hand on his arm. Helen stiffened. 'How shall I say all that Ifeel here?' She gave an effective gesture as she pressed the otherhand against her own bosom. 'You have come into a land of nothing butignorance and into it you have brought the brain of a scholar. Yousaid, "I will find gold, " and they laughed at you--and you found it!It was not chance; Alan was right. It was the act of a man who knew. This land has many kinds of men, Mr. Longstreet. It has no other manlike you. It needs you. You must stay!'

'Oh, ' said Helen. It was scarcely more than a gasp, and yet it bespokeprofound disgust. The woman was insufferable. Here, upon the top ofher treachery, was most palpable flattery. Surely her father would notfail to see now the woman's true character; surely he must baulk atsuch talk as this. But he was beaming again as though the clouds of astorm had passed and the sunlight were streaming upon him; he rubbedhis hands together and spoke cheerfully. 

'Sanchia is right; Alan is right. These two understand me. I shallshow to the world that they have not misjudged me. I know my ownlimitations. I am no superman. I have made blunders in my time. ButI do know my own work, and I am the only man here who does! In a waySanchia is right when she says that this country needs me. It does. And I need it. We are going to stay, my dear. '

Sanchia flashed Helen a look of triumph; her eyes, passing on toHoward, held briefly a sparkle of malice. 

'Alan and I are very grateful to have your approval, ' she said sweetly. 'Aren't we, Alan?' and again her look was for Helen and was triumphant. 

Helen pushed her plate away and for a second time rose abruptly. 

'I'll choke if I stay in here, ' she said. And, with breast heaving, she went to the door and out into the fading afternoon. Sanchia'sglance followed her and then returned placidly to the men. 

'The dear child is high-strung, and Heaven knows she has been throughenough to upset anyone, ' she said condoningly. Then, 'Mr. Carr andyou, Alan, don't seem to be hungry any more. I would like a word withMr. Longstreet, and if you two went out to Helen perhaps you mightsoothe her. Remember she is only a child after all. '

Glad of the excuse to be gone, both men rose. As they went out theysaw how Sanchia was already leaning toward Longstreet, how her hand hadagain found its way to his arm. Then they lost sight of her and sawHelen standing upon the cliff edge looking off to the lowlands of thesouth. In silence they joined her. 

'I don't know whether I love this country or hate it most, ' Helen saidwithout withdrawing her troubled eyes from the expanse of DesertValley. The sun was down, the distances were veiled in tender shades, pale greens of the meadowlands, dusky greys of the hills. 'If it wereonly all like that; if there were only the glorious valley and thepeace of it instead of this hideous life up here!'

It was in Alan Howard's heart to cry out to her, 'Come down into thepeace of it; it is all mine. Come down to live there with me. ' It mayhave been in John Carr's heart to whisper: 'It is mine until the lastcent is paid on it; if you love it so, there may still be the way toget it back for you. ' But neither man spoke his thought. The threestood close together, the girl with troubled eyes standing between thetwo friends, and all of their eyes searched into the mystery of thecoming dusk. 

From the cabin came the sound of a laugh. It was Longstreet's, and itwas like a pleased child's. 

Chapter XX

Two Friends and a Girl

Howard and Carr rode down into the darkening valley side by side. Thesilence of the coming dusk was no deeper than that silence which hadcrept about them while the three stood upon the cliff's edge. Longstreet's laugh had whipped up the colour into Helen's cheeks andhad lighted a battle fire in her eyes. She had whisked away from themand gone straight back to the cabin, meaning to save her father fromhis own artlessness and from the snare of a designing widow. She hadremembered to call out a breathless 'Good-night' without turning herhead. They had taken their dismissal together, understanding Helen'stortured mood. Each man grave and taciturn, like two automatons theybuckled on their spurs, mounted and reined toward the trail. 

Then Howard had said merely: 'Come down to the ranch-house, John. Iwant to talk with you. ' And Carr had nodded and acquiesced. Thereafter they were silent again for a long time. 

The coming of night is a time of vague veilings, of grotesquetransformations, of remoulding and steeping in new dyes. Matter-of-fact objects, clear-cut during the day, assume fantasticshapes; a bush may appear a crouching mountain cat; a rock maymasquerade as a mastodon. This is an hour of uncertainties. Anddoubtings and questionings and uncertainties were other shadow shapesthronging the demesnes of two men's souls. Silence and dim duskwithout, dim dusk and silence within. 

Once Howard, the lighter spirited of the two, sought to laugh theconstraint away. 

'Something seems to have come over us, John, ' he said. But as he spokehe knew that what he should have said was that something had comebetween them. Further, he knew that Carr would have amended his wordsthus in his own mind and that that was why he did not reply. Herecalled vividly how they three had stood on the cliff, he on Helen'sleft, John on her right. He and John were friends; in the desert landsfriendship is sacred. Further, it is mighty, stalwart, godly, and allbut indomitable. They had shared together, fought together. Onefriend would do to the uttermost for the other, would die for him. Hewould rush into the other's fight, asking no questions, and if he wentdown the chill of coming death would be warmed by the glow of conscioussacrifice. The friendship of Howard and Carr had stood the many testsof time. But only now had the supreme test come. Until to-day, eitherof them in the generousness of his spirit would have stepped gladlyaside for the other. But now? A girl is not a cup of water that oneman, dying of thirst, may say of her to his friend: 'Take her. ' Theirfriendship was not changed; simply it was no longer the greatest thingin life. The love of a man for a man, though it be strengthened by tenthousand ties, is less than the love of a man for his chosen mate, though to the other eyes and minds that love may be inexplicable. Setany Damon and Pythias upon an isolated desert island, then into theirlives bring the soft eyes of a girl, and inevitably the day will dawnwhen those eyes will look upon the death of a friendship. Thisknowledge had at last become a part of the understandings of AlanHoward and John Carr. 

'You are going East, John?' asked Howard when at length his spiritsought a second time to shake off the oppression of the hour. 

Even these words came with something of an effort. He tried to speaknaturally. But behind his words were troops of confused thoughts; Carrwas going East, and had said nothing to him; if Carr left, what then ofHelen? Carr had tried to persuade the Longstreets to go with him. 

And to Carr the query sounded more careless, more lightly casual thanHoward had intended. His own thoughts were quick to respond though hisreply came after a noticeable hesitation. Alan did not appear to carewhether he went away or remained; he had not asked if this were to be abrief absence or an indefinite sojourn. 

'Yes, ' Carr's answer at last was short and blunt; 'I have businessthere. '

Carr thought that if Alan were interested he would ask naturally, asone friend had always asked the other, to know more. Howard thoughtthat if Carr cared to speak of his own personal affairs he would do so. Hence, while both waited, neither spoke. Perhaps both were hurt. Certainly the constraint between them thickened and deepened in stepwith the engulfing night; they could not see each other's faces, theycould not glimpse each other's souls. Both were baffled and into thetemper of each came a growing irritation. One thing alone theyappeared to have in common--the desire to come to the end of the ride. Their spurs dipped and they raced along wordlessly. 

When Howard dismounted at the home corrals and began unsaddling, Carrrode on to the house. 

'You're going to stay all night, John, ' Howard called after him. 'Putyour horse in the barn. '

But Carr swung down at the yard gate and tied his horse there. 

'Can't this time, ' he said. 'I'll have to ride on, Al. '

Thus each made his pretence, less to his friend than to himself, thateverything was all right. They sought to be natural and failed, andknew that they had failed. Carr waited for Howard, smoking at thegate; Howard hastened up to the house and went in. He struck a match, lighted the table lamp and filled the pipe lying beside it. Carrtossed his hat to the table and sat down. Their eyes roved about thefamiliar room. Here were countless traces of both men; Carr had livedhere, Howard lived here now. Helen had been here, and she too had leftsomething to mark her passing. They both saw it. It was only abluebird's feather, but Alan had set it in a place of conspicuousnessjust above the fireplace. Even into a room which had been home toeach, which they had held must always be home to both, something ofHelen came like a little ghost. 

'You'll have use for some money about now, ' said Howard abruptly. Hedrew out the table drawer; inside were scraps of paper, a fountain-pen, a cheque-book and some old stubs. 'Time's up for a payment, too. Isold a pretty fair string the other day. '

'I could use a little cash, ' Carr admitted carelessly. 'I've got inpretty deep with the Quigley mining outfit. I made Longstreet aproposition--I am a trifle short, I guess, ' he concluded lamely. 

'I see, ' responded Howard, whereas he saw nothing at all very clearly. He busied himself with his pen, shook it savagely, opened hischeque-book. 'Ten thousand this trip, wasn't it?'

Carr hesitated. 

'I had figured on twelve five, ' he said. 'Wasn't that the amount duenow?'

Howard hunted through the back of the drawer and finally found a littlememorandum book. He turned through the pages upon which he hadscribbled notes of purchases of cattle and horses and of ranchequipment, passed on to a tabulation of his men's wages, and finallystopped at a page devoted to his agreement with his friend. 

'Here you are, ' he said when he had found it. 'Ten thousand, due onthe eleventh of the month. I'm pretty near a week late on it, John, 'he smiled. 

Carr however had his own note-book with him; readily he found his ownentry. 

'I've set it down here as twelve thousand five hundred, ' he saidquietly. 'You remember we talked over a couple of methods of payment, Al. But, ' and he snapped the rubber band about his book and dropped itinto his pocket, 'what's the odds? Let it go at ten. '

'No, ' said Howard. 'Not if you've counted on more. ' A flush ran upinto his face and his eyes were inscrutable. He was conscious of beingin the absurd mood to note trifles; John had come with his memoranda, John had meant to ask him for the money. 'I'd just as lief paytwenty-five hundred extra now as at any time. ' And with lowered headand sputtering pen he wrote the cheque. 

'I don't want to inconvenience you, Al, ' Carr accepted the cheque withcertain reluctance. 'Sure it's all right?'

'Sure, ' said Howard emphatically. He tossed the pen and book into thedrawer. Now the awkwardness of the silence upon them was more markedthan ever before. Carr tarried only a few minutes, during which bothmen were ill at ease. Only an expressionless 'So long!' passed betweenthem when he got up to go. They might see each other again before Carrwent East; they might not. Howard went back to his chair at the table, staring moodily at the bluebird feather. 

Nothing of the instinct of a clerk had ever filtered into the habits ofAlan Howard. His system of books was simple. He set down in one placethe amounts which came in; in another place those expended. He addedand subtracted. He deposited his money in the bank and checked it out. He must bank more when the last was gone. That was about all. It wasseldom that he knew just how far his assets were above his liabilitiesor below. But to-night he knew that he had strained his account. Hehad counted on paying ten thousand and had paid twelve thousand fivehundred. He turned first to his cheque-book, which had not beenbalanced for a couple of months. No adept at figures he spilled muchink, scratched out many calculations and went through them again, grewhot and exasperated and finally before he got anywhere was in a mood todamn everything that came under his hand. It was midnight when he hadassembled upon one sheet of paper an approximately truthful statementof his financial condition. And then he sat back limply and lifted hiseyebrows and whistled. 

Within something less than thirty days he must take up a note whichPony Lee held for a thousand dollars; Pony would want the money and hadsaid as much when he had advanced it. Then there were the calves, duewithin the week, from French Valley; Tony Vaca was rushing them, wasselling at a very low figure and would want his money on the nail. Well, he must have it. That was another seven hundred dollars. Therewas another note held by Engle, down in San Juan. The banker mightextend it; he might not. It was for fifteen hundred dollars, and wouldfall due within sixty days. On top of this were the running expenses:the ranch was working full-handed, the men would want their wages aweek from Saturday: this was Tuesday. He turned to their accounts;three or four of them had not drawn down last month. They would allwant their money when next pay-day came. He estimated the amount. Inthe neighbourhood of seven hundred dollars. He totalled all of theseforthcoming payments. The aggregate was close to four thousanddollars. And his cheque-book, balanced to date, indicated that he hadoverdrawn to make the payment to Carr. He could have paid the tenthousand and have had something over two thousand in cold cash to runon; now he had not enough in the San Juan bank to make his own chequegood. 

'If Carr had only been satisfied with the ten thousand, ' he muttered. 'Or if he had given me warning ahead that he wanted the extratwenty-five hundred. Now what?'

None of these issues were clouded, and in due time he decided upon allpoints. He gave up all thought of bed, made himself a pot of coffeeand sat up all night, devoting himself to details. The cheque he hadgiven Carr must be honoured; hence he must ride to-morrow to San Juanto see Engle, the banker. He was only a few hundred dollars shortthere and Engle would help him to balance the account. The fifteenhundred he owed the bank on his personal note could no doubt beextended if necessary. There remained the money for the calves, thethousand due Pony Lee and another thousand to pay his men and for suchnecessities as would arise. All of this he would talk over with Engle. It might be that the bank would take a mortgage on his equity in DesertValley and advance a considerable sum on it. 

But he must not forget that the present crisis was not all to beconsidered. Another year would bring the time of another payment toCarr. In the meantime the ranch must be operated, it must be made topay. He had already planned on asking extensions from Engle; but itdid not enter his thought now to ask John Carr to wait. 

'I've got my work cut out for me, ' said Howard grimly. 'I've got towork like hell, that's all. I've got to carve down expenses, fire menI can manage without, be on the job all the time to buy in stock cheapwherever it can be got and unload for a quick turnover and some readycash. I've got to go in for more hay and wheat another season; theprice is up and going higher. And real soon, the chances are, I've gotto sell some more cows. '

Before dawn he was at the men's bunk-house. He woke Chuck Evans andtold him to hurry into his clothes and come up to the house. WhenChuck came the two men sat down at the table, pencil and paper inHoward's hand, Chuck's eyes keen upon his employer's set face. 

'I'm right down to cases, Chuck, ' said Howard bluntly. 'I am in up tomy neck, and that's all there is to it. As soon as I get through withyou I am off to San Juan to see if there is any real money left in theworld. I'll be back as soon as I can. But you get busy while I'mgone. First thing, here are five men you will have to give their time. Tell them why; tell them there's always a job open for them here whenI've got the cash for pay-day. Then you and what's left will get yournecks into your collars and go to it, long hours and hard work until wepull out. Get the boys out this morning for another round-up. Bringin every hoof and tail that will size up for a decent sale. If you canget time, ride down to San Ramon and see if there's a chance to sell astring of mules to the road gang. That's about all this time; look forme back in two or three days. '

'All right, Al, ' said Evans. 'So long. ' He went to the door andpaused. He wanted to say something and didn't know just what to say orhow to say it. So he coughed and said again, 'Well, so long, Al, ' andwent out. 

In the first flush of the dawn Howard rode away toward San Juan. Heturned in the saddle and looked back toward the Last Ridge country. Hefancied that he could make out the Longstreet cabin even when he knewthat his lover's desire was tricking his sense. He thought of Helen;she would be sleeping now. He would not see her for several days. Hethought of John Carr; Carr would see her every day until he was forcedto go East. Carr had not confided in him when he expected to leave. His eyes left the uplands lingeringly and wandered across the sweepingfields of Desert Valley. He straightened in the saddle and his lungsfilled and expanded. The valley was his, his to work for, to struggleand plan for, to make over as he would have it--to hold for Helen. ForHelen loved it no less than he loved it. And he loved Helen. 

'. . . One should be loyal to one's friends. ' He held to thatstoutly, insistent and stubborn to play his part. Something had comeover him and Carr, or between them; but none the less he obstinatelysought to refuse to harbour thoughts which came again and again andwhich always angered him with himself. There was the suspicion: 'Carrwas unfair in seeking to take Helen and her father away with him to theEast. ' He told himself that that was Carr's right if Carr held it so. There came the accusation: 'Carr had been hard on him last night. ' Hetold himself that it was easily granted that they had misunderstoodeach other when, long ago, they had arranged for the payments; further, that no doubt Carr, too, was hard up for cash. The thought suggesteditself: 'Carr had no right to berate him for allowing Sanchia to rideto the Longstreet cabin. ' Carr had spoken quickly, unthinkingly, andthey all were under stress. He would play fair and give a man hisdue--and his thoughts switched to Helen and Carr was forgotten and, with a half-smile on his lips, he rode on through the brighteningmorning, dreaming of the ranch that should be when Helen came with himto ride and their hands found each other and she whispered: 'I love itand--it is ours!'

John Engle, the banker of San Juan, was something more than a banker. Not only was he a fine, upstanding, broad-minded man; he was a man, nolonger in the first flush of youth, who had made himself what he wasand who from forty-five vividly recalled twenty-five. He had learnedcaution, but he had known what it was to plunge head-first into deepwaters. That now, a man established, he no longer had to take longchances, was due largely to the successes met in long chances takenwhen all of life lay before him, inviting. When now Alan Howard cameto him in his office at the bank and put his case before himstraightforwardly and without evasion or reservation, he came to theone man in the world who because of his position and his charactercould best help him. 

'Take it slow, Alan, ' said Engle quietly. 'I can give you the wholeday, if necessary. I've got to know just where you stand and justwhich way you are headed before I can get anywhere. '

He drew out his pad and very methodically began to set down figures asthe cattleman talked. Finally:

'It's the bank's money, not my own, that I'll be advancing you, youknow. I am pretty well sewed up personally as usual. Consequently, while I can see you over a few of the immediate bumps in your trail, Ican't give you all that you'll want. But I fancy you can get acrosswith it. ' His keen eyes took fresh stock of the cattleman, marking theassertive strength, the clean build, the erect carriage, the hardhands, the lean jaw and finally the steady eyes which always met hisown. The personal equation always counts, perhaps with the banker morethan most men imagine, and John Engle found no sign of anydeterioration in the security offered by Alan Howard's personality. 'It's a good thing, anyway, ' he went on, with the first hint of atwinkle in his regard, 'for a youngster like you to have to scrapthings out after the old fashion. Not married yet, are you?'

'No, ' said Alan. 

Engle laughed. 

'But hoping to be? Well, it's time. That's a good ballast for a man. Now, I've got this pretty straight, let's have your plans. You hope toswing the ranch all right, or you wouldn't be calling on me. You're indeep already and, of course, if it's a human possibility you've got toswing it. What do you figure to do?'

Howard during his long ride had considered his problem from all angles, and now, leaning forward eagerly, told in detail what he had decided. Engle, a rancher himself with broad experience, nodded now and then, asked his few pertinent questions, made an occasional suggestion. Thenhe rose to his feet and put out his hand. 

'Drop in and see us when you're in town and have the time, ' he saidcordially. 'Mrs. Engle was speaking of you only the other day. You'llwant to be on your way now. I'll let you have five thousand on yourequity and let the other fifteen hundred ride with it, making one notefor sixty-five hundred. I think that if you work things right and holddown expenses and make the sales and purchases and other sales you havein mind, you'll get away with your deal. Just the same, my boy, ' andfor an instant there came into his eyes the fighting look which hadbeen there frequently in the day when he fought out his own battles, 'you've got a man's-sized job on your hands. '

'I know it, ' said Alan. And when, the proper papers signed, he saidgood-bye, his eyes brightened and he said directly: 'It's a greatthing, John Engle, to have a man's-sized man to talk things over with. '

From his window Engle musingly watched the tall form go out to thehorse at the hitching-post and swing up into the saddle. 

'Now what's happened between him and John Carr?' he asked himself. Andwithout hesitation he answered his own question: 'A girl, I suppose. Well, she ought to be a real girl to do that. '

Howard, riding joyously back toward Desert Valley, thought first ofHelen. But not even Helen could hold all of his thoughts when atlength his horse's hoofs fell again upon the rim of Desert Valley Land. Upon the bordering hills of the southern edge of the valley he drewrein and sat, lost in thought. He saw herds feeding, and they were hisherds and he himself did not know their exact number. He must know;the game was swiftly becoming one where pawns count. He saw a manriding; it was his man, whom he must direct and pay. He saw waterrunning in one of his larger creeks, and thought how it too must bemade to work for him. Yonder were colts running wild; there were morethan he required at present. They must be broken; they could be sold. He looked across empty acres, rich pasture lands void of grazing stock. A slow, thoughtful frown gathered in his eyes; he must somehow putstock into them, stock to be bought skilfully and sold skilfully. Allof this glorious sweep of country stretching to the four corners of thecompass was his, his very own, if he were man enough to go on with thework to which he had somewhat lightly set his hand. He had loved italways, since first he had come here as John Carr's guest. He lovedit now with a mounting passion. It flashed over him that when, at somefar-distant time, he should die, this was the one spot upon God's greatearth where he should want his ashes scattered on the little wind whichcame down from the hills. It was a part of him and he a part of it. And as he loved it and yearned for it utterly, so did Helen love it. 

'It is going to be mine and yours, my dear. ' He spoke aloud, his voicestern with his determination. 'For us to have and to hold. '

And because of the thought and the knowledge of what lay ahead of him, he knew that for the present he must forego that to which he had lookedforward all day. He must for a little postpone a ride to see Helen. For already he foresaw the calls upon his time; short-handed, it was tobe work for him from long before day until long after dark. As hestarted down the hill into the valley he saw a herd of cattle comingfrom the north. He had a round-up on his hands to begin with, and itwas already beginning. 

Chapter XXI

Almost

Long hours and hard work in the cattle country mean that a man slipsfrom his saddle into his bunk and to sleep, and from his bunk into hissaddle again, with only time to bolt his food and hot coffeeinfrequently and at irregular intervals. Chuck Evans had obeyedorders; the ranch was short-handed and the 'old-timers' remainingcursed a little, to be sure, at the new order of things, but understoodand went to work. Howard, when he met them all at supper long afterdark, noted how their sunburned eyes turned upon him speculatively. And he knew that in their own parlance every mother's son of them wasready to go the limit if the old man set the pace. That night, whenthe others trooped off to bed, he detained Chuck Evans and Plug Oliverand Dave Terril for a brief conference. To them he gave in what detailhe could his latest plans. Also, since they were friends as well ashired hands, he told them frankly of his difficulties and of hissuccess with Engle. When the men left him they had accepted his fightas their own. 

The first man in the saddle the next day was Howard. He ordered thetally taken of every head of stock on his ranch. This alone, since hisacres were broad and since his stock grazed free over thousands ofacres lying adjacent to Desert Valley on three sides, was a big task. Already, during his absence, a number of the best of the beef cattlehad been moved to the meadowlands. He set a man to close-herd there;he sent other men to bring in still other straying stock; he himselfjudged every single head, cutting out those he deemed unfit; finally hesaw the growing herd driven down into the choicest of his meadowgrazing land to fatten. 

All of this required days. Between breakfast and supper every man withthe outfit changed his horse several times; Howard, the hardest riderof them all, changed horses five times the first day. He and his menshowed signs of the strain they put upon their bodies; they were agaunt, lean-jawed, wild-eyed lot. There was little frolic left in themwhen night came; they were short-spoken, prone to grow fierce overtrifles. But there was not a sullen or discontented man among them. They took what came; they had known times of stress before; they couldlook forward to a day to come of boisterous relaxation and money to bespent in town. Though the subject had never been mentioned, they fullyunderstood that there would be a bonus coming and a glorious holiday. They would see the old man through now: later he would square theaccount. 

Eat, sleep and work; there was nothing else in their schedule. Thetimes when Howard had a few moments over a cigarette to think quietlyof Helen were times when he could not go to her: in the dimness of thecoming day when he was going out to saddle and she would still beasleep; in the dark of the day ended when she would be going to bed. But he held grimly to his task here, saying to himself that in a fewdays he would ride to her and with something to say; wondering how shewould listen; sometimes aglow with his hope, sometimes fearing. And, as he thought of her, so did he think often of John Carr. He did notknow if Carr had gone East or if still he were a daily guest at theLongstreet home. Not a man of his riders had been beyond the confinesof the grazing lands; no one had come in from the outside. There wasno news. 

So a full week sped by. Then for the first time came both opportunityand excuse for Howard to leave the ranch. Chuck Evans had ridden intoSan Ramon to see if there were a market for a string of mules; hebrought back word that a teamster named Roberts in the new mining-camphad been making inquiries. It seemed that he wanted high-grade stockand had the money to pay for it. Everything was running smoothly onthe ranch, and Howard rode this time on his own errand. But, beforestarting for Sanchia's Town, he slipped into the ranchhouse and shavedand changed to a new shirt and chaps and recently blackened boots. Thereafter he brushed his best black hat. Then from a bottom drawer ofhis old bureau, where it was hidden under a pile of clothing, hebrought out a parcel which had come with him from a store in San Juan. 

As good a way as any to see Roberts in Sanchia's Town led by way of theLongstreet camp on Last Ridge. Howard took the winding trail up whichhis horse could climb to the plateau, and once on the level land cameswooping down on the well-remembered spot joyously. The spot itselfwas hidden from him by the grove of stunted pines until he came withina couple of hundred yards of it. Then he jerked his horse down to astandstill and sat staring before him incredulously. The cabin wasgone quite as though there had never been a cabin there in all time. 

At first he wouldn't believe his eyes. Then swiftly his wondermentaltered to consternation. They had gone! Helen and her father hadgone. Carr had prevailed upon them; Howard had not come to see; by nowthey were flying eastward upon the speeding overland train, or perhapswere already in New York. 

The splendour of the day died; the joyousness went out of his heart; hesat staring at the emptiness before him, then at the parcel in brownpaper clutched so foolishly in his hand. He looked all about him;through the trees as though he expected to see Helen's laughing facewatching him; across the broken ridges beyond the flat; down into hisown valley. Down there, too, the glory had passed. When he had stoodhere with Helen and they two had looked across the valley landstogether, it had been to him like the promised land. Now it was somuch dirt and rock and grass with cows and horses browsing stupidlyacross all of it. 

For a long time he sat very still. Then his face hardened. 

'If she has gone, then I am going, too, ' he told himself. 'And I amgoing to bring her back. '

He turned his horse and rode swiftly to Sanchia's Town. They wouldhave gone that way, on to Big Run, San Ramon and down to the railroad. In such a case he would have word of them in the mining-camp. In hispresent mood he required only a few minutes to come to the newsettlement. Had he been less absorbed in his own thoughts he must havebeen amazed at what he saw about him. He had known men before now tomake towns upon dry bare ground and in a mere handful of days; not evenhe, with his first-hand knowledge of such venturings, had ever seen thelike of Sanchia's Town. The spirit which had initiated it into theworld was still its driving spirit. It sprawled, it overflowed itsboundaries incessantly, it hooted and yelled and sang. It grew like aformless mass lumped about fermenting yeast. Already there were shacksand tents up and down both sides of Dry Gulch and strung along in thegravelly bed. There were gambling-houses, monstrosities which namedthemselves hotels and rooming-houses, stores, lunch counters. Thestreets were crooked alleys; everywhere dust puffed up and thickenedand never settled; teams and jolting wagons and pack burros disputedthe congested way; there were seasoned miners, old-time prospectors, going their quiet ways; there were tenderfeet of all descriptions. Notless than five thousand human souls had already found their way toSanchia's Town and more were coming. 

In all of this to-day, Howard took scant interest. His major emotionwas one of annoyance. Among such a seething crowd where should he askof the Longstreets? He sat his horse in a narrow space between a lunchcounter and a canvas bar-room and stared about him. Then he saw thatthe solitary figure perched upon a box before the lunch counter wasYellow Barbee. He called to him quickly. 

Barbee's young eyes, which he turned promptly, were still eloquent ofan amorous joyousness within Barbee's young soul. He bestowed hisglance only fleetingly upon Howard, said a brief 'Hello, Al, ' andturned immediately to the cause of the obvious flutter in Barbee'sbosom. Howard expected to see Sanchia Murray behind the counter. Instead he saw a young girl of a little less than Barbee's age, roguish-eyed, black-haired, red-mouthed, plump and saucy. Her sleeveswere up; her arms were brown and round; there was flour on them. 

'Where are the Longstreets, Barbee?' asked Howard. 

'Gone, ' announced Barbee cheerfully. And as though that closed thematter to his entire satisfaction, he demanded: 'Come on, Pet; be agood kid. Going with me, ain't you?'

Pet laughed and thereafter turned up her pretty nose with obviouslymock disdain. 

'Dancing old square dances and polkas, I'd bet a stack of wheats, ' shescoffed. 'Why, there ain't any more real jazz in your crowd ofcow-hands than there is in an old man's home. What do you take me for, anyway?'

'Aw, come on, ' grinned Barbee. 'You're joshing. If it's jazz youwant----'

'Look here, ' said Howard impatiently. 'I'm just asking a question, andI'll get out of your way. Where did they go?'

'Who?' asked Barbee. 

'The Longstreets. '

'Dunno, ' Barbee shrugged. Then, as an afterthought, 'Sanchia Murraycould tell you; she's been sticking tight to them. She's got a tent upyonder, back of the Courtot House on the edge of town. '

Howard hurried on. The lunch counter girl, following him with criticaleyes, demanded for him or anyone else to hear:

'Who's your bean-pole friend, Kid?'

But the answer Howard did not hear. He swung out to the side to befree of the town and galloped on to Sanchia's tent, which he foundreadily. Sanchia herself was in front of it, just preparing to saddleher white mare. 

'Hello, Al, ' she greeted him carelessly, though her eyes narrowed athim speculatively. 

'Where have the Longstreets gone?' he asked without preliminary. 

'Back in the hills, Bear Valley way, ' she replied, still scrutinizinghim. She marked the look of relief in his eyes and laughed cynicallyand withal a trifle bitterly. 'On the Red Hill trail. Going to seethem?'

'Yes. ' He reined away, and then added stiffly, 'Thank you. '

'Wait a minute, ' she called to him. 'I'm just going up there myself. You might saddle for me, and I'll ride with you. '

He paused and looked her sternly and steadily in the eyes. His voicewas cold and his words were outspoken. 

'I had rather ride alone, and you know it. Further, after the way youhave tricked that man, I'd think you'd draw off and leave them alone. You can't do a thing like that twice. '

For an instant the look in her eyes was baffling. Then there shotthrough the inscrutability of it a sudden gleam of malice that was likea spurt of flame. It was the fire which before now Howard's attitudehad kindled there. 

'What you men see in that little fool, I don't know!' she cried hotly. 'What has she that I haven't? I could have made you the biggest man inthe country; I would have given everything and held nothing back. I ameven honest enough to say so, and I am not afraid to say so. And youare stupid like every other man. Oh, I am done with the crowd of you!'she broke out violently, half hysterically. 'Laugh at me, will you?Turn your back on me, will you?' She paused and panted out the words. 'Why, if you came crawling to me now I'd spit on you. And, so help meGod, I'll ruin the last one of you and your precious flock of lambsbefore I have done with you. If Jim Courtot can't do the trick, I'lldo for you first and Jim next. '

He wheeled his horse and left her, groping wonderingly for anexplanation of her fury. He had not spoken with her above a score oftimes in his life. He had merely been decent to her when, in thebeginning, it struck him that after all she was only a defencelesswoman and that men were hard on her. That his former simple kindnesswould have awakened any serious affection had failed to suggest itselfto him. 

But swiftly he forgot Sanchia and her vindictiveness. She hadmentioned Courtot; for a little as he rode into the hills he puzzledover Courtot's recurrent disappearances. He recalled how, always whenhe came to a place where he might expect to find the gambler, he hadpassed on. Here of late he was like some sinister will-o'-the-wisp. What was it that urged him? A lure that beckoned? A menace thatdrove? He thought of Kish Taka. There was a nemesis to dog any man. Jim Courtot had dwelt with the desert Indians; he had come to know inwhat savage manner they meted out their retributive justice. Was KishTaka still unsleeping, patient, relentless on Courtot's trail? KishTaka and his dog?

But his horse's hoofs were beating out a merry music on the windingtrail that led toward the Red Hill country, and at the end of the trailwas Helen. Helen had not gone East. The frown in his eyes gave placeto his smile; the sunlight was again golden and glorious; the emptinessof the world was replaced by a large content. 

'They just couldn't stand being so close to what they had lost, ' heargued. 'It was a right move to come up here. '

He found the new camp without trouble. As he entered the lower end ofthe tiny valley he saw the canvas-walled cabin at the farther end, under the cliffs. He saw Helen herself. She was just stepping outthrough the door. He came racing on to her, waving his hat by way ofgreeting. He slipped down from the saddle, let his bundle fall andcaught both of her hands in his. 

After this long, unexplained absence Helen had meant to be very stiffwhen, on some fine day, Alan Howard remembered to come again. But now, under his ardent eyes, the colour ran up into her cheeks in rebelliousdefiance of her often strengthened determination and, though shewrenched herself free from him, something of the fire in his eyes wasreflected in hers. 

'Good afternoon, Mr. Cyclone, ' she said quite as carelessly as hissudden appearance permitted her vaguely disturbed senses. 'What areyou going to do? Run over me?'

He laughed joyously. 

'I could eat you, ' he told her enthusiastically. 'You look just thatgood to me. Lord, but I'm hungry for the sight of you!'

'That's nice of you to say so, ' Helen answered. And now she was quiteall that she had planned to be; as coolly indifferent as only a girlcan be when something has begun to sing in her heart and she has madeup her mind that no one must hear the singing. 'But I fail to see whythis very excellent imitation of a man who hasn't seen his best friendfor a couple of centuries. '

'It has been that long, every bit of it--longer. '

Helen's smile was that stock smile to be employed in answer to aninconsequential compliment paid by a chance acquaintance. 

'Three or four days is hardly an eternity, ' she retorted. 

'Three or four days? Why, it's been over nine! Nearly ten. '

She appeared both amazed and incredulous. Then she waved the matteraside as of no moment. 

'I was going out to the spring for a drink, ' she said. 'Will you waithere? Father will be in soon. '

'I'll come along, if there's room for two. ' He picked up his parcel, which Helen noted without seeming to note anything. 'Look here, Helen, ' as she started on before him to the thicket of willows, 'aren'tyou the least little bit glad to see me?'

'Why, of course I am, ' she assured him politely. 'And papa waswondering about you only this morning. Isn't it pretty here?'

He admitted without enthusiasm that it was. He had not seen anythingbut her. She had on a blue dress; she wore a wide hat; her eyes werenothing less than maddening. He recalled the prettiness of Barbee'snew girl at the lunch counter; he remembered Sanchia's regularfeatures; these two were simply not of the same order of beings asHelen. No woman was. He strode behind her as she flitted on up thetrail and felt thrilling through him an odd commingling of reverence, of adoration, of infinite yearning. 

She came to the spring and stopped, watching him eagerly though shepretended to be looking anywhere but at him. And for a moment Howard, marvelling at the spot, let his eyes wander from her. The spring hadbeen cleaned out and rimmed with big flat rocks. About it, as thoughrecently transplanted here, were red and blue flowers. Just at handclose to the clear pool was a delightful shade cast by a freshlyconstructed shelter. And the shelter itself made him open his eyes. Willow poles, with the leaves still green on them, had been set in thesoft earth. Across them other poles had been placed cunningly woven inand out. Still other branches, criss-crossed above, and piled highwith foliage, offered a thick mat of verdure to shield one from the hotrays of the sun. Within the elfin chamber was a rustic seat;everywhere, their roots enwrapped in wet earth, were flowers. 

'It's wonderful!' he told her, and now his enthusiasm had beenawakened. 'And, of course it's your own idea and your own work. '

'Oh my, no! It was John's idea and John made it!'

'John?'

'John Carr. He has been a perfect dear. Isn't he wonderful?'

Yes, Carr was wonderful. But already Howard's enthusiasm had fled. 

'The leaves will wilt pretty soon, ' he found fault in spite of himself. He was a little ashamed even while he was speaking. 'The flowers willdie, and then----'

Helen was already seated within, smiling, looking placid andunconcerned. 

'By then, ' she announced lightly, 'I'll be gone; so it won't matter. '

'Gone?' he demanded sharply. 'Where?'

'East. Mr. Carr has gone on ahead. We are to meet him in New York. '

He sat down upon a rock just outside her door and made no attempt tohide what was in his heart. He had thought to have lost her when hecame to the spot whence the cabin had vanished; he had found her here;he was going to lose her again. . . . Helen's heart quickened at hislook, and she lowered her head, pretending to be occupied exclusivelywith a thistle that had caught on her skirt, afraid that he would know. 

'Why are you going like this?' he asked suddenly. 

She appeared to hesitate. 

'I ought not to say anything against one of your friends, ' she saidwith a great show of ingenuousness. 'But, Mrs. Murray----'

Explosively he cut her short. 'You know that she is not a friend ofmine and that she has never been and never will be a friend of mine. Why do you say that?'

She shrugged her shoulders and went on smiling at him. That smilebegan to madden him; it appeared to speak of such an unruffled spiritwhen his own was in tumult. 

'I beg your pardon, I'm sure. I was merely going to say that Mrs. Murray shows too great an interest in papa. Of course I understandher, and he doesn't. Dear old pops is a perfect child. She hastricked him once; she seems to think him worth watching; she isunbearable. So I am going to do the very natural thing and take himaway from her. Back where he belongs by the way; where we both belong. '

'That is not true; you don't belong anywhere but here. ' He beganspeaking slowly, very earnestly and with little show of emotion. Butlittle by little his speech quickened, his voice was raised, his wordsbecame vehement. 'You belong here. There is no land in the world likethis, just as there is no girl like you. Listen to me, Helen! Foryour sake, for my sake--yes, and for your father's sake--you must stay. You were speaking of him; let's think of him first. He is like a childin that he has kept a pure, simple heart. But he is not without hisown sort of wisdom. He knows rocks and strata and geologicalformation; he found gold once, and that was not just accident. Helost, but he lost without a whimper. He is a good sport. He will findgold again because it is here and he knows how to find it and where tofind it. '

He paused, and Helen, though with no great show of interest and noslightest indication of being impressed, waited for him to go on. 

'The fault in what has occurred is less his than mine. Knowing thesort Sanchia Murray is, I should not have given her the opportunitythat day of a long talk alone with him. But, ' his meaning was plain ashe caught and held her eye, 'I was in the mood to forget Sanchia Murrayand Professor Longstreet and every one else but the girl I was with. '

Helen laughed lightly, again passing the remark by as a mere complimentof the negligible order. 

'Don't do that, Helen, ' he said gravely. She saw that a new sort ofsternness had entered into his manner. 'I have been working, workinghard not alone for myself but for you. Desert Valley has always beento me the one spot in the world; you saw it and loved it, and sincethen there is no money that would buy it from me. If it were reallymine! And I have been working night and day to make it mine. So thatsome day----'

She was not ready for this, and, though her colour warmed, sheinterrupted swiftly:

'You speak as though there were danger of losing it. '

He explained, plunging into those matters which had absorbed his mindduring so many hard hours, telling her how he had paid Carr twelvethousand and five hundred dollars when he had expected to pay only tenthousand, how he had been obliged to ride to San Juan for money, of hissuccess with Engle, of his plans for sales, of cutting down his forceof men; all that he had done and all that he hoped to do. She caughtsomething of the spirit of the endeavour and leaned forward tense andlistening. 

'But surely Mr. Carr, being your best friend, would not have driven youlike this?'

Howard did not answer directly. This hesitation, being unusual in him, caught Helen's attention. 

'I imagine John needed the money, ' he said quietly. 'I didn't sayanything to him about being short of cash. By the way, while in SanJuan I got this for you. I thought you'd like it. '

He unwrapped the bundle. In it were a beautiful Spanish bit, richlysilvered and with headstall and reins of cunningly plaited rawhide, anda pair of dainty spurs which winked gaily in the sunshine. Helen'seyes sparkled as she put out her hand for them. Her rush of thanks heturned aside by saying hastily:

'I've got the little horse to go with them. I'd like mighty well togive him to you. I don't know whether you can accept yet, but I'mrounding up a lot of horses and when we get a rope on Danny I'm goingto lend him to you. To keep indefinitely, as long as you'll have him. '

Long ago Helen's fancies had been ensnared by the big picturesqueranch; long ago her heart had gone out to a fine saddle horse. Nolonger did she seek to hold her interest in check; she asked him quickquestions about everything that he had overlooked telling her andexclaimed with delighted anticipation when he suggested that she andher father ride down and watch at the round-up. He'd have Danny readyfor her and would have ridden him enough to remind him that his longfrisky vacation was at an end. 

They were very close together and very happy just then, when a laughingvoice broke in upon their dreamings. 

'Isn't he the most adorable lover in the world? But look out for him, my dear child. He nearly broke my heart once. Hello, Al! Sorry Icouldn't come up with you. But, you see, I followed as dose as Icould!'

They had not heard Sanchia's horse, and Sanchia had drawn her owndeduction from the fact. Helen stiffened perceptibly, drawing slowlyback. Howard's face reddened to his anger. 

Chapter XXII

The Professor Dictates

Sanchia was cool and bright and merry. She sat flicking at hergleaming boot with her whip, and laughing. Helen, who had stood veryclose to a great happiness, now shivered as though the day had turnedcloudy and cold. But she was still Helen Longstreet, her pride anessential portion of the fibre of her being. Because she was hurt, because suddenly she hated Sanchia Murray with a hatred which seemed tosear her heart like a hot iron, she commanded her smile and hid alltraces of agitation and spoke with serene indifference. 

'Mr. Howard was telling me of the work on the ranch. Isn't itinteresting?'

'So interesting, ' laughed Sanchia, 'that no doubt the heartlessvagabond forgot to mention that he had just left me and that I had sentword by him that I was coming?'

'I don't believe you did say anything about it, did you?' Helen'slevel regard was for Howard now; the red of anger still flared underhis tan and looked as much like guilt as anything else. 'Although, 'and again she glanced carelessly toward the trim form on the whitemare's back, 'we were speaking of you only a moment ago. '

If Sanchia understood that nothing complimentary had been spoken of hershe kept the knowledge her own. 

'We just had a little visit together in the mining-camp, ' she said, veiling the look she bestowed upon Howard so that one might makeanything he pleased of it. 'Alan knows he'd better always run in andsee me first when he's been away for ten days at a stretch; don't you, Boy?'

For Howard the moment was nothing less than a section of purgatory. Hewas no fine hand to deal with women; he stood utterly amazed atSanchia's words and Sanchia's attitude. He had not learned the trickof saying to a woman, 'You lie. ' He had a confused sort of impressionthat the two girls were merely and lightly teasing him. But havingeyes that were keen and a brain which, though a plain-dealing man's, was quick, he understood that somehow there was a stern seriousnessunder all of this seeming banter. Single-purposed he turned to Helen;bluntly he intended to tell how he had seen Sanchia and how he had lefther. 

But Helen's quick perception grasped his purpose, and in an anger whichincluded him as well as herself with Sanchia, she wanted noexplanations. It was enough for her that he had seen Sanchia Murrayfirst; that he had come direct from her. She left the new bridle andspurs lying on the ground, passed swiftly by him and as she walked onsaid carelessly:

'If you both will excuse me a moment I must run into the house. I havesomething to do before papa comes in. '

Sanchia's face glowed triumphantly, and her triumph was clearly one ofsheer malevolence. Howard lifted his face to hers, letting her readhis blazing wrath. She only shrugged her shoulders. 

'I wish to God you were a man!' was all that he said. 

'I don't, ' she rejoined coolly. 'It's a whole lot more fun being awoman. Men are such fools. '

She saw a tremor shake him from head to foot. He came a quick steptoward her, even laid a tense hand on her horse's mane as involuntarilyhis other hand was lifted; for the instant a wild fear thrilled throughher. She thought that he was going to drag her from the saddle; shehad driven him hard, perhaps too hard. But she saw beyond him Helenhurrying down the trail, she saw even that Helen was turning to glanceback. Resourceful in a crisis had Sanchia Murray always been;resourceful now. She leaned forward, and, for Helen to see, patted therigid hand on her horse's neck. She laughed again as she saw thatHelen was almost running now; she could fancy that she had heard a gaspcatch in the girl's throat. 

'You'll keep your hands off my affairs, Mr. Alan Howard, ' she saidevenly. 'Or I'll spoil every dream of your life. '

He held back his answer, his throat working. He saw the forsaken spursand bridle near the bower which John Carr had constructed; he saw thesunlight and shadow across the trail down which Helen had vanished. Then, his own spurs clanking to his long strides, he too went down thetrail, his back and shoulders to Sanchia, stiff and belligerent. 

Helen was in the cabin, the door closed. He called, and she did notanswer. He could hear her within, rummaging about, evidently very busywith something or other; had it not been for the little snatch of songwhich came out to him he could have thought that she was in the grip ofa frenzy no less than that riding him. He rapped on the door andcalled again. 

'Is that you, papa?' Helen's song was suspended briefly. 

'No, ' answered Howard. 'Won't you let me have a word with you?'

'I'd love to, ' she rejoined. 'But I'm terribly busy just now. I'll beout in a minute. ' And again he heard her humming and stirring about. 

He tried to open the door. It was locked. He turned away and sat downon the doorstep. 

'I'll wait here, ' he told her. 'I'll wait all day and all night if Ihave to. '

But there is nothing harder than an indefinite waiting. He saw thatSanchia still sat upon her white mare where he had left her, that herhead was bent, and she seemed to be in a profound study. Now and thenhe heard Helen; she appeared to be re-arranging their scantfurnishings. Ten minutes passed. He called softly:

'Aren't you coming out, Helen?'

'Presently. ' By now Helen had commanded and subdued her agitationentirely to her own satisfaction. 'I know it seems rude, but I simply_must_ get a few things done. '

'What sort of things? Can't I help you?'

'Help?' She laughed. 'Men are such funny animals when it is a matterof helping indoors. 

Sanchia had just said men were such fools. Well, come right down toit, he was rather inclined to accept the statement as largely true. And women were so utterly beyond comprehension. 

'Anyway, can't I just come in and watch you?'

He wondered why she should seem so highly amused. 

'In this little house you always seem about seven feet tall, ' shelaughed at him. 'You'd be terribly in my way. And you haven't waitedhalf a day yet, let alone all night. '

He saw that Sanchia had suddenly lifted her head and had jerked herhorse about in the trail. But she was not riding this way. She hadturned toward the cliffs and was waving her hand. Then he sawLongstreet, grotesque in the various bits of Western accoutrement whichhe had incorporated into his wardrobe, humorously militant as toswinging revolver, miner's pick in hand, high-booted and red-shirted. 

'Your father is coming, ' he offered. 'That Murray woman is going tomeet him. '

Helen had paused in her activities. But he could not guess how herexpression had changed. 'That Murray woman, ' as he spoke the words, did sound convincing. Still she did not come out. She knew that itwould be a full ten minutes before Longstreet would make his way downthe steep slope and come to the cabin. She resumed her occupation andremembered to accompany it with her tantalizing bit of song. Howardbegan to hate that air whole-heartedly. 

The longest day has its end, the longest ten minutes fall somethingshort of an eternity. At length, walking side by side, leading thewhite mare and chatting gaily, Longstreet and Sanchia approached thehouse. Longstreet saw Howard and put out a friendly hand. 

'Glad to see you, my boy, ' he called warmly. 'Helen and I have talkedof you every day; we've missed you like the very mischief. Where isHelen, by the way?'

'Inside, ' Howard told him sombrely. 'Changing things around and makingthem all over. '

Helen opened the door. Howard wondered how she had found the time tolay aside her hat, give a new effect to her hair and pin on those fieldflowers. Her cheeks were only delicately flushed, her eyes were filledwith dancing lights. 

'Back again, pops?' She appeared to see only her father, though Howardstill had a foot on the step and Sanchia was fluttering close at hiselbow. 'And no new gold mine to-day!' It was quite as though a goldmine were virtually an everyday occurrence. She patted his dustyshoulder. 

'No, ' said Longstreet lightly. 'No new mine to-day, my dear. But I'mright; I'm getting all the signs I want and expected. To-morrow ormaybe the next day, we'll have it. I know right where it is. Take thetrail by----'

'Papa, ' said Helen hastily and a trifle impatiently, 'can't you everlearn, even after you have been bitten? If you do stumble on anything, I should think you would remember and not talk about it. '

'But, my dear, ' he expostulated, 'we are among friends. '

'Are we?' Helen demanded coolly. 'We were among the same friendsbefore. '

Longstreet looked frankly displeased, vaguely distressed. Sanchia waslistening eagerly, her eyes stony in their covetousness. Howard, staring only at Helen, had hardly heard. 

'Well, well, ' said Longstreet. 'I haven't found anything, so that'sall there is to to-day's tale, anyway. ' He got his first view of thecabin's interior. 'What in the world has happened in there?' hedemanded, in amazement. 

'Nothing, ' answered Helen. 'I'm just packing; that's all. '

'Packing, my dear? Packing what? And, pray, with what intention?'

'Packing everything, of course. And with the intention of travelling. '

Longstreet looked perplexed. He turned to both Howard and Sanchia asthough he suspected that they must share the secret. 

'If you'll come in, pops, ' Helen informed him, 'we'll arrange foreverything. I wanted to get the worst of it done before you came, asyou're so frightfully upsetting when there's anything like this to bedone. Mr. Howard and Mrs. Murray, ' she added, explaining sweetly, 'just ran in for a minute's call. They are both in a hurry, and we hadbetter not detain them. '

Howard flushed. But his jaw muscles only bulged, and he did notwithdraw his foot from the doorstep. Sanchia bestowed upon the girl along searching look; it may have suggested itself to Sanchia's openmind at that instant that Helen was likely to prove a more troublesomefactor than she had counted on. 

'If you don't mind, ' Howard said with slow stubbornness, 'I'd like justa few words with you and Miss Helen. Mrs. Murray came alone, and nodoubt would prefer to return alone. '

Sanchia's eyes flashed and she bit her lip. Then, though her wordscame quickly, they were smooth and quiet and had a note of banteringlaughter in them. 

'Dear me, we must all be tired and hungry like a lot of children whohave played too hard! We'll be quarrelling in another moment. But Iam not going to be so sensitive as to feel hurt and run off and cry; weare too good friends for that, as you've just said, Mr. Longstreet. And I did so want to ask you some questions; I sent right away for thebooks you told me of, and I am simply mad over them. And I got one ofyours, too; the one on south-western desert formations. It is the mostsplendid thing I ever read. But it is so erudite, so technical inplaces. I was going to ask if you would explain certain parts of it tome?'

'Delighted to, ' ejaculated Longstreet. His old beaming cheerinessenwrapped him like a rosy mist. 'Come in, come in. And you, too, Alan. '

They entered, Sanchia with a sidelong look at Helen, Howard grave andstubborn. Everything was in a state of confusion which Sanchia wasquick to mark, while Howard saw nothing of it. He saw only Helenlooking a far-off princess, cold and unapproachable. And only a fewminutes ago she had been just a winsome girl who leaned toward him, whom he dared to hope he could gather up into his arms. 

Helen's expression was one of set determination. She breathed quicklyand deeply. Her anger rose that her two guests had overridden herexpressed wish. She watched her father hand Sanchia a chair. She sawthem sit down together at the table, Longstreet beginning to talklargely upon his hobby, Sanchia encouraging him with her sympatheticsmile and her pertinent questions. It appeared that Sanchia had reallyread and understood and was interested. 

'Papa, ' said Helen quietly, though her voice shook a little, 'I supposethat a time for very plain talking has come. We will never getanywhere without it. I have shown Mrs. Murray as plainly as I couldthat I don't trust her and further that I do not like her. She shouldnot come into my house. You should not ask her, if she has not enoughpride to refuse your invitation. Do you want me to go? Or will youask her to go?'

Longstreet had not expected this, and for a moment was utterly at aloss. He looked at his daughter in bewilderment; he turned from her toHoward and finally to Sanchia herself as though for help. His face waspuckered up; he looked ridiculously as though he were on the verge oftears. Sanchia had the effrontery to pat his arm and whisper:

'Dear friend, that you should be distressed because of me. '

But she did not offer to go. She sat still again and watched andwaited. 

'I have begun packing for both of us, ' Helen went on. 'You should comeback home. If you refuse to go I shall have to go alone. '

To her amazement her father appeared suddenly relieved. He had neverbeen parted from her for forty-eight hours consecutively since shecould remember; he had never seemed competent to get through the daywithout her countless ministrations; he had leaned on her more than sheon him; and yet the stupefying certainty was that now his face clearedand he actually smiled as he accepted her threat as a sensible solutionof the problem. 

'No doubt you are right, my dear, ' he nodded vigorously. 'This is awild sort of country after all; it is hard for a girl, bred as you havebeen. Perhaps if you went East it would be better. I could stay here;I'd find my mine very soon; I'd take some one in with me in order toraise a large sum of money immediately. And then, when I had builded afine home and had everything ready for you, you'd come back to me!' Hewas carried away with his dream. He rubbed his hands together, and hadhe been playing poker you would have known he held nothing less than aroyal flush. 'You always rise superior to the situation, my dear;always. '

But Helen's face would have indicated that the situation had masteredher. Her own eyes filled with vexation; she dashed the tears aside andher anger rose. Of all men in the world her father, with his gentleinnocence, could at times be the most maddening. And, withdrawn alittle behind her father, she saw Sanchia laughing into herhandkerchief. 

On the instant Helen had the clear vision to know that in this skirmishshe was defeated. She had thought her father would follow her; sheknew that she would not go without him. At least not yet. In a momenther anger would get the best of her; she went quickly to the door andoutside. Howard came quickly behind her. 

'Helen, ' he said harshly, 'you've got to listen to me. '

'Well?' She whirled and confronted him, her body drawn up rigidly. 'What have you to say?'

'You mustn't leave like this. You must stay. '

'I am not going to leave, ' she retorted. 'I am going to stay!'

'But, ' he began, at sea once more, 'I thought----'

'Think what you please, Mr. Howard, ' she told him hotly. 'But here'sone thing you don't have to speculate upon. I am not going to leave myfather in the hands of that Murray woman to do as she pleases with. She can have whatever I don't want, ' and he knew she meant Alan Howard, 'but I am not going to give her the satisfaction of having all of themines and horses in the world named after her. '

The last came out despite her; she could have bitten her tongue to holdback the words which came rushing forth with such vehemence. She didnot know what had put that thought into her mind at this crisis;perhaps it had always been there. But it was this which had chiefsignificance for Howard. 

'I have a horse named Sanchia, ' he said. 'The one I rode the first dayI saw you. You think that I named it after her?'

'What if you did?' she demanded. 'Do you suppose that I care?'

'That horse, ' he went on steadily, 'I bought a long time ago fromYellow Barbee. It was before I had so much as heard of Sanchia Murray. He named the beast. '

Helen's old familiar sniff was his answer. The matter, he was to know, was of no moment to her. But she knew otherwise, and looked at himswiftly hoping he had something else to say. 

'You've got to stay here, ' he continued gravely. 'And we both know it. I believe in your father and in his ultimate success. We must watchover him, we must see that Mrs. Murray does not worm his secret out ofhim again and steal what he finds. And you've got to know that when aman loves a girl as I love you, he is not going to tolerate any furtherinterference from a lying, deceitful jade like that woman in there. '

Helen laughed her disbelief. 

'I rode first of all to the place where your cabin used to stand, ' hewent on, his big hat crumpled in his hands. 'You had left, and I wasafraid you had gone East. I rode into the mining-camp to get word ofyou. I saw Barbee; he said that Sanchia Murray knew where you hadmoved. I asked her. When she said she was coming up this way, I didnot wait for her. She appears to have it in for me; she hates you forstanding between her and your father. She knows that I love you, and----'

Longstreet was calling from the door, 'Helen, I want you and Howard to come back. We must talk everythingover. Mrs. Murray has much to explain; she hates Jim Courtot and hiscrowd, she is working against them instead of with them. Be fair, young people; remember these words, ' he paused, lifted his handoratorically and then made his statement with an unusually deepgravity, --'Every one, though appearing guilty, must be given anopportunity to prove himself innocent. That's it and that's fair: _theopportunity to prove his innocence_. ' He emphasized the words inrepeating them. 'That's all that I ask now. Please let's talk thingsover. '

Helen returned slowly to the cabin. 

'I must go back, ' she said to Howard. 'After all, I must keep my headand watch over papa every minute while she is with him. '

'May I come in, too?' he asked gently. 

'Won't you believe me, Helen? And won't you let me help you?'

She hesitated. Then she turned her head so that he could see her eyes. 

'I am apt to have my hands full, ' she admitted. She even smiled alittle. 'Maybe there _will_ be work for both of us. '

But when he sought to come to her side, she ran on ahead of him. Theface which she presented at the door for Sanchia's vision was radiant. Even Sanchia was at a loss for the amazing alteration. How these twocould have come to an understanding in two minutes baffled her. But asHoward presented his own face at the door there was no misdoubting thathe and Helen had travelled far along the road which she had thought toclose to them. 

'What in the world has happened?' Guarded as was the tongue of SanchiaMurray it was human after all. 

Helen laughed merrily and gave her eyes for an instant to Howard's. Then, lightly, to Sanchia:

'We were just laughing over a story Alan was telling me. Yellow Barbeehas a new girl. '

Sanchia understood, and her face went red. Howard merely knew that forthe first time Helen had called him Alan. Of trifles is the world made. 

Chapter XXIII

The Will-o'-the-Wisp

For the hour, if for no longer, the tables plainly were turned uponSanchia. The high content which so abruptly had enveloped Helen andHoward was comparable to the old magic armour of the fairy tales whichthe fortunate prince found always at his time of need. Through itvenomed glance and bitter tongue might not pass; as Sanchia's angerrose the two lovers looked into each other's eyes and laughed. AgainSanchia bit her lips and sat back. 

'Dear old pops, ' said Helen, going to her father's side and slippingboth arms about his neck, ruffling his scant hair and otherwise makingfree with his passive person, thereby achieving the dual result ofcoming between him and Sanchia and giving a joyous outlet to a newemotion. 'I am not going to leave you, after all. And the West is thenicest country in the world, too. And Alan and I were wrong to run offand leave you as we did. We'll stay right with you now, and it will beso much jollier that way; won't it, Mrs. Murray?'

Longstreet patted her hand; Sanchia Murray measured her anew. 

'And I too, ' ran on Helen, 'must take more interest in your work, yourbooks. Now that we live right on the spot where the things are, thestrata and eroded cañons and--and relics of monster upheavals andfossils of the Pliocene age and all that--it will be so much fun tostudy about them, all together. Alan thinks so, I'm sure. Don't youagree, Mrs. Murray?'

Helen's eyes were dancing, Longstreet imagined with newly inspiredinterest, Alan knew with the light of battle; Sanchia's eyes wereangry. The girl had stated her plan of campaign as though in so manywords. If time came when Longstreet had a second golden secret totell, she meant to hear it and to have Alan hear it at least not aninstant later than Mrs. Murray; thereafter, with odds two to oneagainst the widow, they should see what they would see. 

Sanchia did much thinking and little talking. She remained an hour. During the last half-hour she developed a slight but growinglyinsistent cough. Before she left she had drawn the desired query fromLongstreet. Oh, hadn't he noticed before? It had been coming on herfor a month. The doctors were alarmed for her--but she smiled bravely. They had even commanded that she move away from the dust and noise of atown; that she pitch a tent somewhere on the higher lands and liveout-doors all of the time. Helen saw what was coming before the actualwords were spoken. It was Longstreet who was finally led to extend theinvitation! Why didn't she move into a tent near them? And with alook in which gratitude seemed blurred in a mist of tears, Sanchiaaccepted. She would move to-morrow and pitch her tent right up therenear the spring. 

'If you don't mind, Helen dear?' she said. 'Your little summer houseby the spring may be sacred ground?'

Promptly Helen made her a present of it. All that she wanted were somethings she had left there, a pair of spurs and a bridle; Sanchia wasperfectly welcome to the rest. 

They all went out together for Sanchia's horse. And Sanchia, acceptingthe altered battle-ground to which Helen's tactics had driven her, seeing that she was to have little opportunity of getting Longstreetoff to herself, began a straight drive at her main objective. She laidan affectionate hand on his arm as though thrown upon that necessity bythe irregularities of the trail in which she had stumbled, and turnedthe battery of her really very pretty eyes upon him. With her eyes shesaid, boldly yet timidly: 'You splendid man, you have touched my heart!You noble creature, you have made Sanchia Murray love you! Generousman, you have come to mean everything to a poor little woman who islonely!'

It is much to be said in a glance, but Sanchia had never travelled sofar on her chosen road of life if she had not learned, long ago, how toput into a look all that she did not feel. And she did not stop withthe one look; again she appeared to stumble, again her eyelidsfluttered upward, her glance melted into his; again she flashedsufficient message to redden Longstreet's cheeks and make his own eyesburn with embarrassment. And since it was obvious that henceforwardthe combat must be waged in the open, she did not await the unlikelyopportunity of some distant tête-à-tête to emphasize her intention. Before she mounted she managed to allow the glowingly embarrassed manto hold her two hands; and she told him whisperingly:

'I would to God that you had come a few years earlier into the life ofSanchia Murray!' She sighed and squeezed his hands. Then she smiled awan little smile. 'You have come to mean so much, oh, so much, in mypoor little lonely existence. '

She mounted and rode away, waving her farewell, looking only atLongstreet. They all saw how, before she reached the bend in thetrail, her handkerchief went to her eyes. Longstreet appearedgenuinely worried. 

'I am sorry for that little woman, ' he said thoughtfully. 

'She's making love at you, papa, ' laughed Helen, as though the matterwere of no moment but delightfully ridiculous. 'Fancy Sanchia Murrayfalling in love with dear old pops!'

He looked at her severely. 

'You should not speak lightly of such matters, my dear, ' he chided her. 'Mind you, I am not admitting that there is any ground for such asuspicion as you express. '

'But if there were ground for it?'

'Is there any reason why a pretty woman should not fall in love?' heasked her stiffly. 'Further, is your father such a man that no womancould care for him?' He stalked away. 

Helen gasped after him and was speechless. 

In due course of time Howard recalled that there was a man namedRoberts, a teamster in Sanchia's Town; and that on the Desert Valleyranch there were mules which should be sold; and that, though there wasa golden paradise here in Bear Valley, there remained a workaday worldoutside the charmed confines where time was of the essence. He madeHelen understand that if he were to make good in his acquisition of thecattle range he must be down there among his men and his herds duringevery working hour of the day, but that the nights were his own. Hewas to come up every night that it was possible. She was to guard herfather from Sanchia during the days; he was to seek to be on hand ifever the golden news broke again; they two were to check theadventuress' move. And Helen was to keep the spurs and bridle; she wasto take Danny not as a loan but as a gift, of which only they were toknow; she was to induce her father to ride down to the lower valley towatch the round-up. Then, lingeringly and with many a backward look, Alan Howard went on his way. 

He found his man and, while Howard sat sideways in the saddle andRoberts whittled at a stick, they drove their bargain. The mules weresold for two thousand dollars, if they were as Roberts remembered themand as Howard represented them; Roberts would ride down the next dayfor them and would pay six hundred dollars as the first payment andthereafter not less than two hundred a month. Howard was satisfied. He would have a little more cash for running expenses or for thepurchase of more stock if he could find another chance like that whenhe had bought the calves from Tony Vaca in French Valley. 

The week rolled by, bursting with details requiring quick attention. Danny was found, roped, saddled and bridled. Longstreet rode him, delighting in the pony's high spirits, more delighted to see how he'came around. ' Gentled sufficiently and reminded that he was no longera free agent to fling up his heels at the wind and race recklesslywhere he would, but that he was man's friend and servant, Danny waspresented to Helen. He ate sugar that she gave him; he returned bit bybit the impulsive love which she granted him outright. In his newtrappings, to which Howard had added a saddle from his own stables, Danny accepted his new honours like a thoroughbred. 

Helen rode him the day she and her father came down from the hills forthe round-up. Longstreet out-Romaned the Romans: his spurs were thebiggest, his yell when he circled a herd was the most piercing, hisborrowed chaps struck the eye from afar; his hat was a Stetson andamazingly tall. Now and then, when his horse swerved sharply to headoff a racing steer, he came near falling. Once he did fall and rolledwildly through the dust of a corral; but he only continued hisoccupation with the more vim and was heard to shout over and over:'It's the life, boys! It's the life!'

Helen, often riding at Howard's side, saw how the herds were broughtdown from the hills; how they were counted and graded; how the selectwere driven into the fattest pasture lands. She watched the brandingof those few head that had escaped other round-ups. At first shecringed back as she saw the hot iron and the smoke rising from thehides and smelled the scorching hair and flesh. But she came tounderstand the necessity and further she saw that little pain wasinflicted, that the victims though they struggled and bellowed weresoon grazing quietly with their fellows. And at last the time had comewhen she had learned to ride. That was the supreme joy of the moment. 

To Howard, no less, was it a joy. He watched her race, with whipwhirling over her head, to cut off the lunging attempt at escape madeover and over by the wilder cattle; he saw that with every hour herseat in the saddle became more secure; he read that she was not afraid. He looked forward to long rides, just the two of them, across thebillowing sweep of Desert Valley, in the golden time when the titlerested secure with them, in the time when at last all dreams came true. 

Of any world outside their own happy valley they knew little. Sanchiahad pitched her tent near the Longstreet camp, but these days she wasleft very much to herself. They did not pass through Sanchia's Town ontheir way back and forth and knew and cared nothing of its activities. The Longstreets, keenly interested in all that went forward on theranch, were persuaded to accept Howard's hospitality for three days andnights. They rode early and late; there were the brief before-bedtimetalks together; Helen saw the bluebird feather and laughed about it;she claimed it, but was in the end, after a deal of bantering argument, content to leave it where it was. She allowed Howard to talk what shebranded as foolishness about certain alterations in the old house whichhe prophesied would be necessary before long; she grew into the customof speaking of the room which she had occupied on her first visit tothe ranch as 'my room. ' She was very happy and forgot that her fatherwas a troublesome childlike parent who fancied that he knew how todiscover gold mines. What did mere gold amount to, anyway?

Then came the drive. The pick of the herd were to be moved slowly downto San Juan. Howard had communicated with his former buyers, and theywere eager for more of his stock and at the former price. He wantedHelen and her father to come with them. But Longstreet shook his headsmilingly. 

'I'm two-thirds cowboy now, ' he chuckled. 'A few more days of this andI'll be coming to you and asking for a job! It won't do, my boy. Itwon't do. Especially at a time like this. You make your drive andI'll make mine. And I'll bet you a new twenty-dollar hat that when youget back I'll have found gold again. '

So the Longstreets went back to Bear Valley and the drive began. Howard started his cattle moving at three o'clock the next morning. And almost from the beginning, although everything startedauspiciously, he encountered hardship. At ten o'clock that morning hecame upon a dead calf, its throat torn out as though by a raveningmonster wolf; a section of the flesh seemed to have been removed by asharp knife. That was nothing; to him it merely spelled Kish Taka, andKish Taka was his friend and welcome. But as he rode on, reflecting, he read more in the omen. If Kish Taka were here, in the hills, thensomewhere near by Jim Courtot had passed. Then shortly after noon hecame upon what he knew must be the work of Jim Courtot. And hesurmised with rising anger that recently Courtot had seen Sanchia andthat again Courtot was Sanchia's right hand. Here was a little hollow;on two sides were steep banks. Along these banks lay four big steers, dead, a rifle bullet through each one. Already the buzzards weregathering. 

Dave Terril came upon him and found him bending over one of the bigstiffening bodies. Howard's face was white, the deadly hue of rage. 

'Who done that for you, Al?' muttered Dave wonderingly. 

'Jim Courtot!'

'Why don't you go get him, Al?'

'Why don't I?' said Howard dully. 

Why did he not lay a fierce hand upon the wind that danced over thehills? It was no more elusive than Jim Courtot. Why did not KishTaka, the eternally vigilant, come up with his prey? Nowhere in theworld is there so baffling a quarry as a hunted man. Jim Courtotstruck and vanished; he played the waiting game; he would give hisright hand for Howard's death, his left hand for the Indian's. But inhis heart, his visions his own, he was afraid. 

Before they came to Sunderberg's Meadows, where it had been arrangedthat the herd was to pasture that night, they saw the wide-flung greyfilms of smoke. Accident or hatred had fired the dry grass; flamesdanced and sang their thin songs of burning destruction; the widefields were already black. Howard had bought and paid for the pastureland; the loss was his, not Sunderberg's; Courtot, if Courtot it was, or perhaps Monte Devine or Ed True, had been before him. Sanchia'svenom--for, be the hand of the agent whose it may, he recalled alwaysthe look in Sanchia's eyes and the threat from Sanchia's lips--seemedto travel with him and in front of him. His cattle browsed that nighton a rocky, almost grassless ground, making the best of what poor shrubgrowths they could lay their dry tongues to. There was no water; thepools lay in the heart of a smouldering tract too hot to drive across. 

When the cattle had rested, without waiting for full day Howard wasforced to start them on and to make a wide swerve out of his intendeddirection to come soon to feed and water. Otherwise the drive wouldbecome a tremendous misfortune and loss. His cattle would lose weightrapidly under privation; they would when delivered in San Juan onlyvaguely resemble the choice herd he had promised; scrawny and jaded, under weight and wretched, their price would drop from the top to thebottom of the scale. He would make for the San Doran place; Doran, though no friend, would at least sell him hay; the figure would behigh, since Doran, no man better, knew when the other man was down andin a ditch. But water and food must be had. 

Howard, toward noon, rode ahead to Doran's house. Doran was out infront of his barn, breaking a team of colts, working one at the timewith a steady old mare, and in a hot and unpleasant mood. He sawHoward and behind him the dust-clouds of an advancing herd. 

'Got any hay?' demanded Howard. 

'Two barns full, ' said Doran. 

'Sell me enough to take care of my cows? Sunderberg's pastures wereburned out; I'm up against it for feed. '

'Can't, ' said Doran. 'Guess I'm sold out already for all I can let go. '

Howard wondered who was buying up hay at this time and by the bigbarnful. 

'A fellow came by here yesterday, ' explained Doran, and took an optionon my whole lot. ' His shrewd eyes gleamed. 'And at my own figure, too! Which was four dollars the ton higher'n the market! That's goinga few, ain't it?'

'Who was the man?' asked Howard. 

'Fellow named Devine. Know him?'

Howard pondered swiftly. Then he demanded: 'Just an option? Mindsaying how much cash you got, Doran?'

'Why, no. He said he was short of cash, but he slipped me twenty bucksto tie the option. I'm expecting him back to-morrow or next day toclose the deal. '

Howard sought swiftly to explain what Devine's play was; it was hissuspicion that the twenty dollars would be forfeited and that Doran'shay would remain in his barns a thousand years if he waited for Devineto come back for it. But Doran, though he seemed to reflect, wasstubborn. He hadn't a bale to sell, and that was all there was of it. He even grinned behind Howard's departing back. 

The drive continued. Slowly the panting brutes were urged on; at everywater-hole and every trail-side pasture they were rested. In theafternoon Howard found a rancher who could spare half a dozen bales ofhay; they were promptly purchased, opened and thrown to the herd; todisappear instantly. That night camp was made on the upper courses ofthe Morales Creek. It was less than satisfactory; it was better thannothing. 

Thus the journey into San Juan required twice the time Howard hadcounted upon. And when at last he and his men urged his lagging cattleto the fringes of the village, he knew that the herd was in nocondition for an immediate delivery. He rode ahead and saw Engle atthe bank; from Engle he rented the best pasture to be had at hand andbought hay; then, impatient at the enforced delay, he pitched camp andstrove in a week to bring back his stock to something of its formercondition. 

Alone, he rode that night into San Juan, his eyes showing the ragewhich day after day had grown in his heart. His revolver loose in itsholster he visited first the Casa Blanca, Crook Galloway's old place ofsinister reputation. Some day he must meet Jim Courtot; might not thattime have arrived? God knew he had waited long enough. But JimCourtot was not to be found here; nor anywhere in San Juan, thoughHoward sought him out everywhere. No, men told him; they had not laideyes upon Courtot since Howard had last sought him here. 

Finally the delivery was made at the local stock pens; the cattlecrowded through the narrow defile, were counted and weighed and paidfor. The purchasing agent looked at Howard curiously. 

'You had higher grade stuff last time, ' he said. 'This bunch isn't inthe same class with the other shipment. '

'Don't I know it?' Howard flared out at him, grown irritable here oflate. 

He took his cheque, banked it and left town, advancing his men a littlemoney and telling them to cut their holiday short. Then he saddled hisbest horse and headed back for Desert Valley the shortest way. Hisexpenses had been far heavier than they should have been; his receiptslower. He knew that look he would see in Sanchia's eyes when againthey met; he prayed that the time might come when he could come closeenough to Jim Courtot to read and answer his look. He thought of KishTaka, and for the first time with anger; Kish Taka should keep hishands off. 

Chapter XXIV

The Shadow

There was something awaiting Alan Howard at his ranch house that for alittle at least made him forget Sanchia and Courtot and hard climbsahead in the road he must travel. Tired as he was and dispirited whenhe got home late that night he went to bed glowing with content. Atdawn he was in the saddle. The Longstreets, early risers as they hadgrown to be, had only finished breakfast when he came racing into BearValley, waving his hat to them and calling cheerily. A first frowncame when he saw that Sanchia Murray was breakfasting with them, butthe frown did not linger. 

'Good morning, everybody, ' he greeted them. Helen, sitting in the sunon the doorstep, got to her feet; her father came smiling out to shakehands; even Sanchia, pushing her plate back, rose. She looked at himsearchingly, appearing to note and wonder at his gay mood. 

'No, I won't light down and have coffee with you, ' he laughed at theinvitation. 'And I won't stop to eat, having devoured a day's rationsbefore I hit the saddle. No, there's nothing you can do for me, Mr. Longstreet; there's nothing in the world I want. ' Helen had given himher hand; he held it a little before he would let it free and lookedstraight down into her eyes and kept on laughing gaily as he declaredwith certain unmistakable boldness: 'Right now I've got every blessedthing in the wide world I want. '

Sanchia said sharply: 'You must have been unusually successful in yourlatest deal?'

'It's the next deal I'm thinking of, ' he told her lightly, letting herhave the words to ponder on if she liked. But he had scant time forSanchia and his eyes came back to Helen. 'I've got to ride into thenew camp to see Roberts, ' he told her. 'He's seen my mules and isbuying. How would an early ride suit you? And I'll show you how easyit is to collect six hundred dollars before most folks have hadbreakfast!'

'My, what a lot of money, ' laughed Helen. 'Of course I'll come. Youknow where I keep Danny. If you'll saddle for me I'll get ready and beout in two minutes. '

When they rode away down the trail together, Longstreet was smiling, and Sanchia frowning after them. 

'She even eats with you?' queried Howard. 

'I just thank Heaven she hasn't brought her bed in yet, ' answeredHelen. 'She is as transparent as a piece of glass, and yet dear oldpops lets her pile the wool over his eyes as thick as she pleases. I'mjust giving her plenty of rope, ' she added philosophically. 'Do that, and people always get tangled up first and then hang themselves next, don't they?'

'Give me plenty of rope!' he said eagerly. 'I'll just tie myself up, hand and foot, and give you the end of the rope to hold. '

She laughed at him, touched Danny with her new spurs and shot ahead. 

'You're nearly dying to tell me some good news, ' she said when he hadcome up with her again. 'Aren't you?'

'I want to show you a letter I got when I came in last night. But I'djust as soon think of handing it over to a whirlwind as to you at therate you are going. '

They drew their horses down to a walk. From his pocket Howard took anenvelope; from the envelope brought forth a long blue slip of paper, torn in two, and with a few words penned across the fragments in a bigrunning scrawl. He held the two pieces together for her to read; bynow the horses had stopped and, being old friends, were rubbing noses. Helen read:

'Dear old Al: It took me a few days to see straight. Instead ofblocking your game, let me help whenever I can. Don't need this now;won't have it. Take your time, Al. Good luck and so long. 

JOHN. '

'Turn it over!' cried Howard. 

Helen obeyed, only then fully understanding. It was a cheque fortwelve thousand five hundred dollars, signed by Alan Howard and payableto the order of John Carr. Again she looked at the brief note; it wasdated, and the date was eight days old. Her face flushed suddenly; thecolour deepened. 

'He wrote that the day after I sent my telegram to him!' she criedbreathlessly. 

'Telegram?'

'Yes. ' She hesitated, then ran on swiftly: 'When Mr. Carr left I lethim think that maybe father and I would follow soon. I don't know thatI had been exactly what you men call square with Mr. Carr. I wanted tobe square with everyone. So I sent him a telegram, saying that weappreciated his generosity but that we would stay here. '

Howard studied the date on the fluttering paper and his mind ran back. 

'You sent that wire the day after I came back last time!'

'And if I did?' She met his look serenely. 

'You did so because you cared----'

But Helen laughed at him, and again Danny, touched with a sudden spur, shot ahead down the trail. 

They clattered like runaway children into the crooked rocky street ofSanchia's Town. Had their thoughts been less busied with themselvesand with a hint of a rosy future and with the bigness of the thingwhich John Carr had done for them, they would have marked long ago thathere something was amiss. But it was only when they were fairly in theheart of the settlement that they stopped abruptly to stare at eachother. Now there was no misunderstanding what had happened! Sanchia'sTown, that had been a busy, humming human hive no longer ago thanyesterday was this morning still, deserted, empty and dead. Those whohad rushed hitherward seeking gold were gone; be the explanation whereit might, shacks stood with doors flung wide; tents had been torn down, outworn articles discarded, dumped helter-skelter into the road. Theatmosphere was like that of a circus grounds when the circus was movingon, only a few things left for the last crew to come for. 

'It feels like a graveyard, ' whispered Helen. 'What has happened?'

'The old story, I suppose. ' He turned sideways in the saddle, lookingabout him for a sign of remaining life. 'It grew in the night; somehowit has pinched out; the bottom has dropped out of it. Nate Kemble ofQuigley bought up two or three claims; I've a notion the rest wereworthless. Anyway, like many another of its kind, Sanchia's Town wasborn, has lived and died like old Solomon Gundy. '

Helen's face was that of one in deep study. 

'Papa was saying only day before yesterday, ' she said thoughtfully, 'that this was going to happen. He said that was why he hadn't takenthe trouble to make a fight for his rights here. He said that Kemblehad bought up all of the land that was worth anything; and that he, himself, had given Kemble the right tip. It begins to look as thoughpapa knew, doesn't it?'

Howard nodded vigorously. 

'He knows gold mines and he knows gold signs, ' he said positively. 'I've felt that all along. But----'

'But, ' she took the words out of his mouth, speaking hastily, 'hedoesn't know the first thing about people; about a woman like SanchiaMurray. And now that he says he is going to locate his real mine andwe are leaving him with her----'

'We mustn't be away too long, ' he agreed. 

'Look. There's some one down there at the lunch counter; at leastthere's a little smoke from the stovepipe. Shall we see who it is?'

It was love among the ruins. Or, in other words, Yellow Barbee leaninghalfway across the lunch counter, toward the roguish-eyed, plump maidwho leaned slowly toward him. 

'Hello, Barbee, ' called Alan. And when Barbee greeted him withoutenthusiasm, he asked: 'What's happened to the town?'

'Hit the slide, ' said Barbee carelessly. 'Bottom fell through, Iguess, and at the same time somebody started a scare about gold beingfound down toward Big Run. The fools, ' he scoffed, 'piled out likecrazy sheep. You can find the way they went by a trail of old tin cupsand socks and such stuff dropped on the run. '

'Roberts, the teamster, has gone, I suppose?'

'He'll be back. Pet's old man is still packing his stuff and Robertsis going to haul it this afternoon. I'm sticking along, helping pack, 'he grinned. Pet eyed him in high mock scorn. 

'A lot of help you are, ' she told him. Barbee laughed. 

Howard and Helen were reining their horses about to leave when Barbeecame out into the road and put a detaining hand upon Howard's horse'smane. 

'Saw Jim Courtot last night, Al, ' he said quietly. 

'Here?' asked Howard quickly. So long had Courtot seemed theembodiment of all that was elusive that it came with something of ashock of surprise that any man had seen him. 

'Yes, ' Barbee nodded. 'He's trailing his luck with that Murray womanagain. They're a bad outfit, Al; better keep your eye peeled. '

Howard did not smile at Barbee's reference to Sanchia. He hardlyremarked it. 

'Tell me about Courtot, ' he commanded. 

'Something's come over him, ' said Barbee vaguely. 'He's differentsomehow, Al; and I can't just get him. If he ain't half crazy he ain'tmuch more than half right. He's got a funny look in his eyes; he's asnervous as a cat; he jumps sideways if you move quick. Last night Ithought he was going to break and run for cover at a little sound noman would pay any attention to, '

'What kind of a sound?'

'Just a fool dog barking! Well, so long, Al. I got to help Pet do herpacking. ' And winking his merry eye, Barbee turned back toward thelunch counter. 

Howard and Helen rode again toward the hills. Across the girl's face ashadow had fallen. Howard wondered if it were there because the oddsadness of a forsaken town had tinged her spirit with its own weirdmelancholy; or if she had been disturbed by word of Jim Courtot. Barbee had spoken quietly, but Helen might have heard. They rode insilence until Sanchia's Town was lost behind a ridge. Then Helen askedsteadily:

'Is there no way out for you and Jim Courtot but the way of violence?'

He sought to evade, saying lightly that it began to look as though heand Courtot could no more meet than could spring and autumn. But whenshe asked directly, 'What would happen if you did meet?' he answeredbluntly. His mood was not quarrelsome this morning; he wanted noneedless fight with any man. But if Jim Courtot stepped out into histrail and began shooting . . . Well, he left it to her, what wouldhappen. Then he began to speak of Barbee and his new girl, of anythingthat offered itself to his mind as a lighter topic. But Helen was inno responsive mood. It seemed to her that a shadow had crept acrossthe sky; that the warmth had gone out of the sunlight. A fear creptinto her heart, and like many a baseless emotion grew into certainty, that if Alan Howard and Jim Courtot came face to face it would be Alanwho fell. When she saw how straight and virile Howard sat in thesaddle; when she marked how full of life and the sheer joy of life hewas; when she read in his eyes something of his own dreams for thefuture; when then she saw the gun always bumping at his hips, sheshivered as though cold. Her own senses grew sharpened; her fanciesraced feverishly. From every boulder, from every bend in the trail, she feared to see the sinister face of Jim Courtot. 

Chapter XXV

In the Open

There came that night a crisis. Half expected it had always been, andyet after the familiar fashion of supreme moments it burst upon themwith the suddenness of an explosion. Howard and Helen were sittingsilent upon the cabin doorstep, watching the first stars. In Sanchia'snear-by tent a candle was burning; they could now and then see hershadow as she moved restlessly about. Longstreet had been out all day, prospecting. 

The first intimation the two star-gazers had of any eventful happeningwas borne to them by Longstreet's voice, calling cheerily out of thedarkness below the cliffs. His words were simply 'Hello, everybody!'but the whoop from afar was of a joy scarcely less than delirious. Sanchia ran out of her tent, toppling over her candle; both Helen andHoward sprang up. 

'He has found it!' cried Helen. 'Look at that woman. She is like aspider. '

Longstreet came on down the trail jauntily. Sanchia, first to reachhim, passed her arm through his and held resolutely to his side. Asthey came close and into the lamp-light from the cabin door their twofaces hid nothing of their two emotions. Longstreet's was one ofwhole-hearted triumph; Sanchia's of shrewdness and determination. 

'Now, ' cried Longstreet ringingly, 'who says that I didn't know what Iwas talking about!' It was a challenge of the victor, not a merequestion. 

Before any other reply came Sanchia's answer. 

'Dear friend, ' she told him hurriedly, 'I always had faith in you. When others doubted, I was sure. And now I rejoice in your happinessas----'

'Papa!' warned Helen. She ran forward to him. 'Remember and becareful!'

Longstreet went into the cabin. The others followed him. Sanchia didnot release his arm, though she saw and understood what lay in Helen'slook and Howard's. The main issue had arrived and Sanchia meant tomake the most of it. 

Longstreet put down his short-handled pick. Howard noted the act andobserved, though the impression at the time was relegated to the outerfringes of his concentrated thought, that the rough head of theinstrument and even a portion of the handle looked rusty. Longstreetremoved from his shoulders his canvas specimen-bag. Plainly, it washeavy; there were a number of samples in it, some as small as robins'eggs, one the size of a man's two fists. He was lifting the bag todump its contents out upon the table when suddenly Howard pushed bySanchia and snatched the thing from Longstreet's hands. Longstreetstared at him in astonishment; Sanchia caught at his coat. 

'Just a minute, ' said Howard hastily. Even Helen wondered as he turnedand bolted out through the door and sped up the trail toward thespring. Longstreet looked from the departing figure to his daughterand then to Sanchia, frankly bewildered. Then all went to the door. In a moment, Howard returned, the bag hanging limp over his arm, histwo hands filled with the fragments of rock which glistened in thelamp-light. 

'I washed them off, ' he said lightly. 'If there really is gold here wecan see it better with all the loose dirt off, can't we?' He put themdown on the table and stood back, watching Sanchia keenly. 

The fine restraint which, in her many encounters with the unexpected, Sanchia had been trained so long and so well to maintain, was gone nowin a flash. Her eyes shone; a rich colour flooded her face; she couldnot stop her involuntary action until she had literally thrown herselfupon the bits of quartz, snatching them up. For they were streaked andseamed and pitted with gold, such ore as she had never seen. Theavarice gleaming in her eyes for that one instant during which she wasthrown off her guard was akin to a light of madness. 

But she had herself in hand immediately; she was as one who had slippedslightly upon a polished floor but had caught herself gracefully fromfalling. She thrust the rock into Longstreet's hands; she smiled uponhim; she made use of her old familiar gesture of laying her hand uponhis arm, as she hardly more than whispered:

'Dear friend--and wonderful man--I am glad for your sake, sotremendously glad. For now you have vindicated yourself before theworld. Now you have shown them all'--and in her flashing glanceSanchia managed to include both Alan and Helen sweepingly with aninvisible horde whose bitter tongues had been as so many dogs yelpingat the excellent Longstreet's heels--'now you have shown them all thatyou are the man I have always contended you were. ' She crowded hersmile fuller of what she sought to convey than even she had ever riskedbefore as she murmured at the end, her tones dropping away like dyingmusic: 'This is a happy hour in the life of Sanchia Murray!'

'There's truth there, if nowhere else, ' cried Helen pointedly. 'Papa, if you have stumbled on a real gold mine at last, aren't you wiseenough this time to keep still about it?'

'That word "stumbled, " my dear, ' Longstreet told her with greatdignity, 'is extremely offensive to me at a moment like this. It is aword which you have employed in this same connexion before to-day, yetit is one to which I have always objected. In that sure progress whichmarks the path a scientific brain has followed, there are no chancesteps. Surely my own daughter, after the evidence I have alreadygiven----'

'That isn't the point, ' said Helen hurriedly. 'The only thing thatcounts now is that you mustn't go shouting of it from the housetops. '

'Am I shouting, my dear? Am I seeking the housetops?' His dignityswelled. Also, it was clearly read in his unusually mild eyes thatHelen, in her excitement with her ill-chosen words, had hurt him. Sanchia Murray, for one, who was older and of wider worldly experiencethan Longstreet's other companions of the moment, and who surely knewas much of human nature, saw something else in his clouded look. Itwas an incipient but fast-growing stubbornness. Therefore Sanchiaclosed her lips and watched keenly for developments. 

'There's a good old pops, ' Helen cajoled. She slipped between him andSanchia, sending Howard a meaning look. She made use of certain of thewidow's own sort of weapon, putting her two round arms about herfather's neck. Before he quite understood what was happening to him, she had managed to get him through the door which led to her room atthe rear, and to close the door after them and set her back to it. Forthwith her cajolery was done with, and taking him by the twoshoulders Helen looked severely into his wondering eyes. 

She began speaking to him swiftly, but her voice lowered. She hadmarked how Sanchia had sought to follow, how Howard had put his hand onher arm and Sanchia had shown her teeth. The woman was in fightingmood, and Helen from the beginning was a little afraid of what shemight succeed in doing. 

'Papa, ' she said, 'anyone can see what that woman is after. She robbedyou once, and anyone can see that too. You are a dear old innocentthing and she is artful and deceitful. You are not safe for a minutein her hands; you must stay right in here until Mr. Howard and I cansend her away. '

She felt Longstreet's body stiffen under her hands. 

'If you mean, my dear, that your father is a mere child; that he cannotbe trusted to know what is best; that you, a chit of a youngster, knowmore of human nature than does he, a man of years and experience;that----'

'Oh, dear!' cried Helen. 'You are wonderful, pops, in your way. Youare the best papa in the world. But, after all, you are just a baby inthe claws--or hands of a designing creature like that hideous Sanchia. And----'

'And, my dear, ' maintained Longstreet belligerently, the stubbornnessnow rampant in his soul, 'you are mistaken, that is all. You and Idisagree upon one point; you condemn Mrs. Murray outright, because ofcertain purely circumstantial evidence against her. That is the way ofhot-headed youth. I, being mature, even-minded and clear-eyed, maintain that one accused must be given every opportunity to provehimself innocent. When you say that Mrs. Murray is untrustworthy----'

'I could _pinch_ you!' cried Helen. 'If she robs you again I--I----'She could think of no threat of punishment sufficient unto the crime. Suddenly she pulled the door open. 'Come in here, ' she called to Alan. And as he obeyed, leaving the baffled Sanchia without, Helen saidswiftly: 'See if you can't talk reason into papa. I'll keep _her_ outthere. ' And she in turn passed out, again closing the door. 

'You little vixen!' Sanchia's cheeks were red with anger as, Helen'smanoeuvre complete, the girl stood regarding her with defiant eyes. Sanchia's hands clenched and the resultant impression given forth byher whole demeanour was that upon occasion the little widow might beswept into such passionate rage that she was prone to resort to primal, physical violence. Helen, though her own cheeks burned, smiled loftilyand made no answer. 

From beyond the closed door came Alan's eager voice. Sanchia bentforward, straining her ears to hear; Helen, the light of battle flaringsteadily higher in her eyes, began suddenly to sing, the same littlebroken snatches of song which not so long ago had irritated herimpatient lover and which now confused the words spoken beyond the doorand which made Sanchia furious. 

'Stand aside, ' commanded Sanchia. 'I am going in. '

Helen stood firm. Then she saw that Sanchia meant what she said. And, on the table near the discarded pick, she saw Longstreet's bigrevolver. She made a quick step forward, snatched it up in both handsand pointed it directly at Sanchia's heaving breast. Now the colourwent out of Helen's face and it grew very white, while her eyesdarkened. 

'If you move a step toward that door, ' she threatened, 'I am going toshoot!'

Sanchia sneered. Then she paused. And finally she laughedcontemptuously. 

'You little fool, ' she whispered back, cautious that no syllable mightenter the adjoining room. 'I don't need to go rushing in there, afterall. And you know it. That stuff, ' and she glanced briefly at therock on the table, 'got into my blood for a second. I'll take my timenow; and I'll get what I want. '

As they stood in silence, Helen making no answer, they heard what themen were saying. 

'--just this if nothing more, ' came the end of Howard's entreaty. 'Don't tell Sanchia. '

Promptly came the angry answer:

'Mind your own business, young man! And, until you are asked foradvice, hold your tongue!' At the end of the command the door snappedopen and Longstreet popped into the room. 

Sanchia, her cool poise regained, made no step toward him but contentedherself by a slow comprehensive and sympathetic smile. Howard camequickly to Helen, stooped to her and whispered:

'I can't do a thing with him. But come outside with me a second; Ithink I know what to do. '

She flung down the heavy gun and went with him. Ten paces from thecabin they stopped together. 

'Did you glimpse the specimens before I ran out to the spring withthem?' he asked sharply. She shook her head, her eyes round. 

'Do you have any idea, ' he hurried on, 'just where your father has beenprospecting lately?'

'Yes, I went with him for a walk two or three times during the lastweek. He----'

But he interrupted. 

'Has he shown any interest in a flat-topped hill about three milesback? Where there is a lot of red dirt? They call it Red Dirt Hill. '

'Yes!' Her tone quickened. 'That is why----'

They had no time for complete sentences. 

'I saw the red dirt on his pick first; then on the rock. That is why Iwashed it off, hoping that she had not seen. It's more than a fairgamble, Helen, that your father's claim is on Red Hill. '

Her hand was on his arm now; she did not know, but through all otherconsiderations to him this fact thrilled pleasurably. He put his ownhand over hers. 

'If Sanchia saw, too?'

'I don't think that she did. Nor am I half sure that it would meananything to her. I know every foot of these hills; she doesn't. We'llgo in now and see what we can do. If your father does give itaway--well, then we'll play our hunch and try to beat her to it. '

But though they had been out so brief a time, already Sanchia met themat the door. Her eyes were on fire; her slight body seemed to dilatewith a joy swelling in her heart; she looked the embodiment of all thatwas triumphant. Behind her, rubbing his two hands together, andlooking like a wilful and victorious child, was Longstreet. Sanchiaran by them. In her hands, tight-clutched, was the finest specimen. 

'You haven't told her, papa! Oh, you haven't told her!'

'And what if I have?' he snapped. 'Am I not a man grown that I am notto----'

Again no time for more than a broken sentence. 

'Will you tell us?' demanded Howard. 

'In due time, ' came the cool rejoinder. 'When I am ready. I shouldhave told you to-night, had you trusted to me. Now I shall not tellyou a word about it until to-morrow. '

They knew that Sanchia was going for her horse. Here was no time forone to allow his way to be cluttered up with trifles. Howard turnedand ran to his own horse. They lost sight of him in the dark; theyheard pounding hoofs as he raced after Sanchia and by her; they heardher scream out angrily at him as she was the first to grasp hispurpose. And presently at the cabin door was Howard again, calling toHelen. She ran out. He was mounted and led two horses, her own andSanchia's white mare. 

'Hurry!' he called. 'We'll play my hunch and beat her to it yet. '

Helen understood and scrambled wildly into her own saddle. She heardSanchia calling; she could even hear the woman running back towardthem. Then her horse jumped under her, she clutched at the horn of hersaddle to save herself from falling, and she and Howard were racing uptrail, Sanchia's mare led after them, Sanchia's voice screaming behindthem. 

They skirted the base of the cliffs for half a mile. Then Howardturned Sanchia's horse loose, driving the animal down into a darkravine where there would be no finding it in the night-time. 

'It's only a chance, ' he said, 'but then that's better than justsitting and sucking our thumbs. We take the up-trail here. '

They came out upon the tablelands above Bear Valley. There was betterlight here; the trail was less narrow and steep; they could look downand see the light in the cabin. 

Later they were to know just what had been Sanchia Murray's quick replyto their move. And then they were to know, too, where Jim Courtot'shang-out had been during these last weeks in which he had seemed tovanish. Sanchia, with a golden labour before her, had promptly turnedto her 'right hand. ' On foot, since there was no other way, andrunning until she was breathless and spent, she hurried across thenarrow valley, climbed the low hills at its eastern edge, and plungeddown into the ravine which was the head of Dry Gulch. Up the fartherside she clambered, again running, panting and sobbing with theexertion she put upon herself, until she came to another brokencliff-ridge. There she had stood calling. And, from a hidden hole inthe rocks, giving entrance to a cave, like a wolf from its lair, therehad come at her calling Jim Courtot. 

Chapter XXVI

When Day Dawned

Upon the flat top of Red Dirt Hill, Howard and Helen drove theirstakes. Thereafter they made a little fire in the shelter of a tumbleof boulders and camped throughout the night under the blazing desertstars. Were they right? Were they wrong? They did not know. In thedarkness they could make out little of the face of the earth aboutthem. Alan thought himself certain of one thing: that only near herecould it be likely that Longstreet should have broken off fragments ofstone with so plain a marking of red dirt on them. Helen merely knewthat her father had more than once climbed up here, though she hadlaughed at him for seeking gold upon the exalted heights. To knowanything beyond this meagre and unsatisfying data, they must await thedawn. 

The hours passed and Sanchia Murray did not come. Before now, theyestimated, she could have hurried here even though she came on foot;before now, had she thought of it and had the patience, she might havefound Longstreet's horse. Yet she did not come. The fact made theiruncertainty the greater. They had ample opportunity to ask themselvesa hundred times if they had done the foolish thing in racing off here. Should they have held by Sanchia?

Toward morning it grew chill and they came closer together over theirlittle brush fire. They spoke in lowered voices, and not always ofHelen's father and of his gold. At times they spoke of themselves. To-morrow Helen might be mistress of a bonanza; to-morrow she might be, as she was to-night, a girl but briefly removed from pennilessness. Asthe stars waxed and began at last to wane and the sky brightened, asthe still thin air grew colder at the first promises of another day, they discussed the matter quietly. And it seemed that this was not theonly consideration in the world, nor yet even the chiefest. But----

'I can't come to you like a beggar-girl, ' she whispered. 

'If I lost everything I had--and I could not lose everything since Iwould go on loving you--would that make any difference, Helen?'

She hesitated. 'You know, ' she said quietly at last. 

So, when the pallid sky gave way to the rosy tints of the new day, theyknew everything, being richly wise in the wisdom of youth. Even it wasgranted them to see the red earth about them and to know that Alan'ssurmise had led them aright. Just yonder in a little hollow to whichthe shadows clung longest, were the marks left by Longstreet's pick;there was a tiny pit in which he had toiled exposing a vein of rockfrom which he had chipped his samples; near the spot his location stakeand notice. Promptly they removed their own stakes, taking claims onboth sides of his. 

'We were right!' called Alan triumphantly. 'But how about Sanchia? Hetold her and-----'

'Look!' Helen caught his arm and pointed. 

Upon a neighbouring hill, by air-line not over half a mile from theirown, but almost twice that distance by the trail one must follow downand up the rugged slopes, were two figures. Clearly limned against thesky, they were like black outlines against a pink curtain. 

'That is Sanchia!' Helen was positive. 'There is a man with her. It---- Do you think----'

He did not know why she should think what he knew she did think; whathe himself was thinking. It was altogether too far to distinguish oneman from another. It might even be Longstreet himself. But he knewthat she feared it was Jim Courtot, to whom naturally Sanchia wouldturn at a moment like this; and never from the first did he doubt thatit was Courtot. 

'It's some one of Sanchia's crowd, ' he said with high assumption ofcarelessness. 'But here is what I can't understand! Your father toldSanchia; she has raced off and staked; and as sure as fate, they are onthe wrong hill! Sanchia wouldn't make a blunder like that!'

Helen was frowning meditatively. She understood what Howard had inmind, and she, too, was perplexed. 

'Do you know, ' she cried suddenly, 'I think we have failed to do papajustice!'

'What do you mean?'

'He never said outright that he had told her; he merely let us thinkthat he had. He never once said positively that he had faith inSanchia; he just said, over and over, that one accused should be givena chance to prove his innocence! Now, supposing that he had ledSanchia to think that his mine was over yonder on that other hill? Hewould be risking nothing; and at the same time he would be giving herthat chance. No, ' and it was a very thoughtful Helen who spoke, 'Idon't know that we have ever done dear old pops justice. '

They stood, silent, watching the growing day and the two motionlessfigures upon the other hill. Those figures, as the day brightened, began to move about; plainly they were searching quite as Alan andHelen had searched just now. They were making assurance doubly sure, or seeking to do so. They disappeared briefly. Again they stood, sideby side, in relief against the sky. 

'That is Jim Courtot, I know it. ' Helen's hands were tight-pressedagainst her breast in which a sudden tumult was stirring. All ofyesterday's premonition swept back over her. 'You two will meet thistime. And then----'

'Listen, Helen. I no longer want to meet Jim Courtot. I would becontent to let him pass by me and go on his own way now. But if hedoes come this way, if at last we must meet---- Well, my dear, ' hesought to make his smile utterly reassuring, 'I have met Jim Courtotbefore. '

But her sudden fear, after the way of fear when there is an unfoundeddread at the bottom of it, gripped her as it had never done before; shefelt a terrified certainty that if the two men met it would be Alan whodied. She began to tremble. 

Far down in the hollow lying between Red Dirt Hill and the eminencewhereon stood Sanchia and Courtot, they saw a man riding. He came intoa clearing; had they not from the beginning suspected who it must bethey would have known Longstreet from that distance, from hischaracteristic carriage in the saddle. No man ever rode like JamesEdward Longstreet. And Courtot and Sanchia had seen him. 

He jogged along placidly. They could fancy him smiling contentedly. Helen and Howard watched him; he was coming toward them. They glancedswiftly across the ravine; there the two figures stood close together, evidently conversing earnestly. The sun was not yet up. Longstreetrode into a thickness of shadow and disappeared. In five minutes hecame into sight again. Courtot and Sanchia had not stirred. But now, as though galvanized, they moved. Courtot leaped from his boulder andbegan hurrying down into the cañon, seeking to come up with the man onthe horse. Sanchia followed. Even at the distance, however, sheseemed slack-footed, like one who, having played out the game, knowsthat it is defeat. 

'Papa is coming this way!--Jim Courtot is following him--in ten minutesmore----'

She did not finish. Howard put his arms about her and felt her bodyshaking. 

'You do love me, ' he whispered. 

She jerked away from him. A new look was in her eyes. 

'Alan Howard, ' she said steadily, 'I love you. With my whole heart andsoul! But our love can never come to anything unless you love me justexactly as I love you!'

'Don't you know----'

'You do not know what it has meant to me, your shooting those two menin papa's quarrel. But they lived and I have tried to forget it all. If they had died, then what?' Her eyes widened. 'If you and Courtotmeet, what will happen? If he kills you, there is an end. If--if youkill him, there is an end! Call it what you please, if it is notmurder, it is a man killing a man. And it is horrible!'

Mystified, he stared at her. 

'What can I do?' he muttered. 'You would not have me run from him, Helen? You do not want me to turn coward like that?'

'If you kill him, ' she told him, her face dead-white, 'I will nevermarry you. I will go away to-morrow. If you would promise me not toshoot him, I would marry you this minute. '

He looked down into the ravine trail. Longstreet was appreciablynearer. So was Courtot. Behind Sanchia lagged spiritlessly, seemingof a mind to stop and turn back. He looked at Helen; she had had nosleep, she was unstrung, nervous, distraught. He gnawed at his lip andlooked again toward Courtot. 

'If you love me!' pleaded Helen wildly. 

'I love you, ' he said grimly. 'That is all that counts. '

He waited until she looked away from him. Then silently he drew hisgun from its holster; the thing was madness, but just now there was nosanity in the universe. He could not run; he must not kill Courtot. He dropped the gun behind him and with the heel of his boot thrust itaway from him so that it fell into a fissure in the rock. He turnedagain to watch Courtot coming on. 

The eerie light of uncertainty which is neither day nor night layacross the hills. It was utterly silent. Then, the rattle of stonesbelow; horse and rider were so close that they could see Longstreet'supturned face. Courtot was close behind him; Courtot looked up andthey could see his face. 

'You must go, now, ' whispered Helen. 'You have promised me. '

'I am keeping my promise, ' he said sternly. 'But I am not going to runfrom him. You would hate me for being a coward, Helen. '

She looked at him, puzzled. Then she saw that the holster at his hipwas empty. 

'Oh, ' cried Helen wildly, 'not that! You must kill him, Alan. I wasmad with fear. I----'

Stopping the flow of her words there swept over her the paralyzingcertainty that it was useless to batter against fate; that a man'sdestiny was not to be thrust aside by a woman's love. For out of thesilence there burst a sound which to her quivering nerves was fraughtwith word of death; that sound which in countless human hearts presagesa death before the dawn--the long, lugubrious howling of a dog. Itseemed to her to burst out of the nothingness of the sky, to arise inthe void of an unseen ghostly world where spirit voices foretold theonrush of destruction. 

Jim Courtot was hurrying up the slope. They saw him stop dead in histracks. He, too, seemed turned to stone by the sound. It came again, the terrible howling of a dog, nearer as though the creature spedacross the hills on the wings of the quickening morning wind. Sanchiastopped and began to draw back. Longstreet came on unconcernedly. 

A third time, and again nearer, came the strange baying. Courtot heldwhere he was, balancing briefly. Then they heard him cry out, hisvoice strange and hoarse; he whirled about and began to run. He wasgoing down the trail now, running as a man runs only from his death, stumbling, cursing, rising and plunging on. 

'Look!' Howard's fingers had locked upon Helen's arm. 'It is KishTaka!'

She looked. Behind them, outlined against the sky, were a strangepair. A great beast, head down, howling as it ran, that was biggerthan a desert wolf, and close behind it, gaunt body doubled, speedinglike an arrow, a naked man. They flashed across the open space andsped down the steep slope of the ravine where, in the shadows, theybecame mere ghost figures. 

'It is Kish Taka!' said Howard a second time. 'And again Kish Taka hassaved my life. '

Dazed, the girl did not yet understand. She shivered and drew close toher lover, stepping into his arms. He held her tight, and they turnedtheir fascinated eyes below. The speed of Jim Courtot in the grip ofhis terror was great; but it looked like lingering leisure compared tothe speed of Kish Taka and his great hungering dog. And, now, behindKish Taka came a second dog, like the first; and behind it a secondman, like Kish Taka. 

If Jim Courtot remembered his revolver, it must have been to know thatnot long would that stand between him and the two rushing, slaveringbeasts and the two avenging Indians behind him. His one hope was hishidden cave with its small orifice and concealed exit. And Jim Courtotmust have realized how small was his chance of coming to it. 

They saw him plunge on. The light slowly increased. They saw how thedogs and men gained upon him. They lost sight of all down in theravine among the shadows. They saw Courtot again, still in the leadbut losing ground. They lost sight of him again. They heard a wildscream, a gun fired, the howl of a dog. Another scream, tortured andterrified. Then, in the passes of the hills, it was as still as death. 

Longstreet, alone, had not seen all of this; the dogs had swept on, butto him, deep in his own thoughts, they were but dogs barking as dogshave a way of doing. Sanchia sat in a crumpled heap, her face in herhands. Longstreet's face was smiling when he came to where hisdaughter stood with her lover's arms tight about her. 

'I gave that woman her chance, and she was not innocent, ' he announcedequably. 'I wanted to make sure, but I had my doubts of her, my dear. Do you know, ' he went on brightly, as though he were but now making afresh discovery of tremendous importance to the world, 'I am inclinedto believe that she is entirely untrustworthy! I first began tosuspect her when she appeared to be in love with me!' He came closerand patted Helen's hand; his kindly eyes, passing over the stakes ofhis claim, were gentle as he peered reminiscently across the deaddeparted years. 'Why, no woman ever did that except your mother, mydear!'

Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner Ltd. , Frome and London