THE FIGHTING EDGE

ByWILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE

Author of"Man-Size, " "Gunsight Pass, " "Tangled Trails, " Etc. 

Boston and New YorkHOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANYThe Riverside Press Cambridge1922

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COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINEALL RIGHTS RESERVEDThe Riverside PressCAMBRIDGE · MASSACHUSETTSPRINTED IN THE U. S. A. 

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TOMY MOTHER

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CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE I. Pete's Girl 1 II. "A Spunky Li'l' Devil" 7 III. Pals 12 IV. Clipped Wings 17 V. June asks Questions 25 VI. "Don't You Touch Him!" 33 VII. An Elopement 41 VIII. Blister Gives Advice 50 IX. The White Feather 58 X. In the Image of God 68 XI. June Prays 76 XII. Mollie Takes Charge 86 XIII. Bear Cat Asks Questions 93 XIV. Houck Takes a Ride 100 XV. A Scandal Scotched 106 XVI. Blister as Deus ex Machina 110 XVII. The Back of a Bronc 117 XVIII. The First Day 123 XIX. Dud Qualifies as Court Jester 127 XX. "The Bigger the Hat the Smaller the Herd" 135 XXI. June Discovers a New World 141 XXII. An Alternative Proposed and Declined 145 XXIII. Bob Crawls his Hump Sudden 150 XXIV. In the Saddle 158 XXV. The Rio Blanco puts in a Claim 162 XXVI. Cutting Sign 171 XXVII. Partners in Peril 179 XXVIII. June is Glad 189 XXIX. "Injuns" 194 XXX. A Recruit Joins the Rangers 200 XXXI. "Don't you like me any more?" 207 XXXII. A Cup of Cold Water 214 XXXIII. "Keep A-Comin', Red Haid" 222 XXXIV. An Obstinate Man stands Pat 230 XXXV. Three in a Pit 237 XXXVI. A Hero is Embarrassed 242 XXXVII. A Responsible Citizen 249XXXVIII. Bear Cat Asleep 253 XXXIX. Bear Cat Awake 258 XL. Big-Game Hunters at Work 262 XLI. In a Lady's Chamber 266 XLII. A Walk in the Park 270 XLIII. Not even Powder-burnt 278 XLIV. Bob holds his Red Haid high 284 XLV. The Outlaw gets a Bad Break 290 XLVI. The End of a Crooked Trail 297 XLVII. The Kingdom of Joy 301

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THE FIGHTING EDGE

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THE FIGHTING EDGE

CHAPTER I

PETE'S GIRL

She stood in the doorway, a patched and ragged Cinderella of the desert. Upon her slim, ill-poised figure the descending sun slanted a shaft ofglory. It caught in a spotlight the cheap, dingy gown, the coarsestockings through the holes of which white flesh peeped, the heavy, broken brogans that disfigured the feet. It beat upon a small head with amass of black, wild-flying hair, on red lips curved with discontent, intodark eyes passionate and resentful at what fate had made of her younglife. A silent, sullen lass, one might have guessed, and the judgmentwould have been true as most first impressions. 

The girl watched her father drive half a dozen dogies into the mountaincorral perched precariously on the hillside. Soon now it would be dusk. She went back into the cabin and began to prepare supper. 

In the rickety stove she made a fire of cottonwood. There was abusiness-like efficiency in the way she peeled potatoes, prepared thevenison for the frying-pan, and mixed the biscuit dough. 

June Tolliver and her father lived alone on Piceance[1] Creek. Theirnearest neighbor was a trapper on Eighteen-Mile Hill. From one month'send to another she did not see a woman. The still repression in thegirl's face was due not wholly to loneliness. She lived on the edge of asecret she intuitively felt was shameful. It colored her thoughts andfeelings, set her apart from the rest of the world. Her physicalreactions were dominated by it. Yet what this secret was she could onlyguess at. 

A knock sounded on the door. 

June brushed back a rebellious lock of hair from her eyes with the wristabove a flour-whitened hand. "Come in. "

A big dark man stood on the threshold. His glance swept the girl, searched the room, and came back to her. 

"Pete Tolliver live here?"

"Yes. He's lookin' after the stock. Be in soon, likely. "

The man closed the door. June dragged a chair from a corner and returnedto her cooking. 

From his seat the man watched her. His regard was disturbing. It had aquality of insistence. His eyes were cold yet devouring. They werepossessive, not clear but opaque. They did not look at her as other eyesdid. She felt the blood burning in her cheeks. 

Presently, as she passed from the table to the stove to look at thesputtering venison, she flashed a resentful glance at him. It did nottouch his effrontery. 

"You Pete's girl?" he asked. 

"Yes. "

"You've grown. Knew you when you was learnin' to crawl. "

"In Brown's Park?" The words were out before she could stop them. 

"You done said it. " He smiled, not pleasantly, she thought. "I'm a realold friend of yore father. "

Curiosity touched with apprehension began to stir in her. For those earlyyears she had only memory to rely upon. Tolliver never referred to them. On that subject the barriers were up between the two. Fugitive flashes ofthat first home came back to June. She remembered a sweet, dark-eyedwoman nuzzling her little body with kisses after the bath, an hour whenthat mother wept as though her heart would break and she had put littlebaby arms in tight embrace round her neck by way of comfort. That dearwoman was not in any of the later pictures. A pile of stones on ahillside in Brown's Park marked the grave. 

Between the day of 'Lindy Tolliver's outburst of grief and the child'snext recollection was a gap. The setting of the succeeding memories was aframe house on a dusty road at the edge of a frontier town. In front ofit jolted big freight wagons, three of them fastened together and drawnby a double row of oxen so long she could not count them. The place wasRawlins, Wyoming, and it was an outfitting point for a back country inColorado hundreds of miles from the railroad. The chief figure in June'shorizon was a stern-eyed, angular aunt who took the place of both fatherand mother and did her duty implacably. The two lived together forever, it seemed to the child. 

June wakened one night from the light of a lamp in her aunt's hand. A manwas standing beside her. He was gaunt and pallid, in his eyes a look ofhunger that reminded her of a hunted coyote. When he took her tightly inhis arms she began to cry. He had murmured, "My li'l' baby, don't you bescared of yore paw. " As mysteriously as he had come to life, so PeteTolliver disappeared again. 

Afterward there was a journey with a freight outfit which lasted days anddays. June was in charge of a bullwhacker. All she remembered about himwas that he had been kind to her and had expended a crackling vocabularyon his oxen. The end of the trek brought her to Piceance Creek and afather now heavily bearded and with long, unkempt hair. They had livedhere ever since. 

Did this big man by the window belong to her father's covered past? Wasthere menace in his coming? Vaguely June felt that there was. 

The door opened and Tolliver stepped in. He was rather under middle-size, dressed in down-at-the-heel boots, butternut jeans, cotton shirt, anddusty, ragged slouch hat. The grizzled beard hid the weak mouth, but theskim-milk eyes, the expression of the small-featured face, betrayed theman's lack of force. You may meet ten thousand like him west of theMississippi. He lives in every village, up every creek, in every valley, and always he is the cat's-paw of stronger men who use him for good orill to serve their ends. 

The nester stopped in his tracks. It was impossible for June to miss thedismay that found outlet in the fallen jaw and startled eyes. 

In the stranger's grin was triumphant malice. "You sure look glad to seeme, Pete, and us such old friends too. Le's see, I ain't seen yousince--since--" He stopped, as though his memory were at fault, but Junesensed the hint of a threat in the uncompleted sentence. 

Reluctantly Tolliver took the offered hand. His consternation seemed tohave stricken him dumb. 

"Ain't you going to introduce yore old pal to the girl?" the big manasked. 

Not willingly, the rancher found the necessary words. "June, meet Mr. Houck. "

June was putting the biscuits in the oven. She nodded an acknowledgmentof the introduction. Back of the resentful eyes the girl's brain wasbusy. 

"Old side pardners, ain't we, Pete?" Houck was jeering at him almostopenly. 

The older man mumbled what might be taken for an assent. 

"Branded a heap of cattle, you 'n' me. Eh, Pete?" The stranger settleddeeper in the chair. "Jake Houck an' you could talk over old times allnight. We was frolicsome colts. "

Tolliver felt his hand forced. "Put off yore hat and wash up, Jake. You'll stay to-night, o' course. "

"Don't mind if I do. I'm headed for Glenwood. Reckon I'd better put thehorse up first. "

The two men left the cabin. When they returned half an hour later, thesupper was on the table. June sat on the side nearest the stove andsupplied the needs of the men. Coffee, hot biscuits, more venison, asecond dish of gravy: no trained waiter could have anticipated theirwants any better. If she was a bit sulky, she had reason for it. Houck'sgaze followed her like a searchlight. It noted the dark good looks of hertousled head, the slimness of the figure which moved so awkwardly, acertain flash of spirit in the undisciplined young face. 

"How old's yore girl?" the man asked his host. 

Tolliver hesitated, trying to remember. "How old are you, June?"

"Going on sixteen, " she answered, eyes smouldering angrily. 

This man's cool, impudent appraisal of her was hateful, she felt. 

He laughed at her manner, easily, insolently, for he was of the type thatfinds pleasure in the umbrage of women annoyed by his effrontery. Of thethree the guest was the only one quite at his ease. Tolliver'singratiating jokes and the heartiness of his voice rang false. He wastroubled, uncertain how to face the situation that had arisen. 

His daughter reflected this constraint. Why did her father fear this bigdominating fellow? What was the relation between them? Why did his verypresence bring with it a message of alarm?

She left them before the stove as soon as the dishes were washed, retiring to the bedroom at the other end of the log cabin. Far into thenight she heard them talking, in low voices that made an indistinctmurmur. To the sound of them she fell asleep. 

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 [1] Pronounced _Pee-ance_. 

CHAPTER II

"A SPUNKY LI'L' DEVIL"

Houck rode away next morning after breakfast, but not before he had madea promise June construed as a threat. 

"Be back soon, girl. "

Her eyes were on the corral, from which her father was driving thedogies. "What's it to me?" she said with sullen resentment. 

"More'n you think. I've took a fancy to you. When I come back I'll talkbusiness. "

The girl's eyes did not turn toward him, but the color flooded the darkcheeks. "With Father maybe. Not with me. You've got no business to talkover with me. "

"Think so? Different here. Take a good look at me, June Tolliver. "

"What for?" Her glance traveled over him disdainfully to the hound puppychasing its tail. She felt a strange excitement drumming in her veins. "I've seen folks a heap better worth lookin' at. "

"Because I'm tellin' you to. " His big hand caught her chin and swung itback. "Because I'm figurin' on marryin' you right soon. "

Her dark eyes blazed. They looked at him straight enough now. "Take yorehand off'n me. D'you hear?"

He laughed, slowly, delightedly. "You're a spunky li'l' devil. Suits mefine. Jake Houck never did like jog-trotters in harness. "

"Lemme go, " she ordered, and a small brown fist clenched. 

"Not now, nor ever. You're due to wear the Houck brand, girl. "

She struck, hard, with all the strength of her lithe and supple body. Above his cheek-bone a red streak leaped out where the sharp knuckles hadcrushed the flesh. 

A second time he laughed, harshly. Her chin was still clamped in avice-like grip that hurt. "I get a kiss for that, you vixen. " With asweeping gesture he imprisoned both of the girl's arms and drew the slimbody to him. He kissed her, full on the lips, not once but half a dozentimes, while she fought like a fury without the least avail. 

Presently the man released her hands and chin. 

"Hit me again if you like, and I'll c'lect my pay prompt, " he jeered. 

She was in a passionate flame of impotent anger. He had insulted her, trampled down the pride of her untamed youth, brushed away the bloom ofher maiden modesty. And there was nothing she could do to make him pay. He was too insensitive to be reached by words, no matter how she peltedthem at him. 

A sob welled up from her heart. She turned and ran into the house. 

Houck grinned, swung to the saddle, and rode up the valley. June wouldhate him good and plenty, he thought. That was all right. He had her inthe hollow of his hand. All her thoughts would be full of him. After shequit struggling to escape she would come snuggling up to him with agirl's shy blandishments. It was his boast that he knew all about womenand their ways. 

June was not given to tears. There was in her the stark pioneer bloodthat wrested the West in two generations from unfriendly nature. But theyoung virgin soul had been outraged. She lay on the bed of her room, facedown, the nails of her fingers biting into the palms of the hands, a lumpin the full brown throat choking her. 

She was a wild, free thing of the hills, undisciplined by life. Back ofJune's anger and offended pride lurked dread, as yet indefinite andformless. Who was this stranger who had swaggered into her life andannounced himself its lord and master? She would show him his place, would teach him how ridiculous his pretensions were. But even as sheclenched her teeth on that promise there rose before her a picture of thefellow's straddling stride, of the fleering face with its intrepid eyesand jutting, square-cut jaw. He was stronger than she. No scruples wouldhold him back from the possession of his desires. She knew she wouldfight savagely, but a chill premonition of failure drenched the girl'sheart. 

Later, she went out to the stable where Tolliver was riveting a brokentug. It was characteristic of the man that all his tools, harness, andmachinery were worn out or fractured. He never brought a plough in out ofthe winter storms or mended a leak in the roof until the need wasinsistent. Yet he was not lazy. He merely did not know how to orderaffairs with any system. 

"Who is that man?" June demanded. 

He looked up, mildly surprised and disturbed at the imperative in thegirl's voice. "Why, didn't I tell you, honey--Jake Houck?"

"I don't want to know his name. I want to know who he is--all abouthim. "

Tolliver drove home a rivet before he answered. "Jake's a cowman. " Hisvoice was apologetic. "I seen you didn't like him. He's biggity, Jakeis. "

"He's the most hateful man I ever saw, " she burst out. 

Pete lifted thin, straw-colored eyebrows in questioning, but June had nointention of telling what had taken place. She would fight her ownbattles. 

"Well, he's a sure enough toughfoot, " admitted the rancher. 

"When did you know him?"

"We was ridin' together, a right long time ago. "

"Where?"

"Up around Rawlins--thataway. "

"He said he knew you in Brown's Park. "

The man flashed a quick, uncertain look at his daughter. It appeared toask how much Houck had told. "I might 'a' knowed him there too. Come tothink of it, I did. Punchers drift around a heap. Say, how about dinner?You got it started? I'm gettin' powerful hungry. "

June knew the subject was closed. She might have pushed deeper into herfather's reticence, but some instinct shrank from what she might uncover. There could be only pain in learning the secret he so carefully hid. 

There had been no discussion of it between them, nor had it beennecessary to have any. It was tacitly understood that they would havelittle traffic with their neighbors, that only at rare intervals wouldPete drive to Meeker, Glenwood Springs, or Bear Cat to dispose of furs hehad trapped and to buy supplies. The girl's thoughts and emotions werethe product largely of this isolation. She brooded over the mystery ofher father's past till it became an obsession in her life. To be broughtinto close contact with dishonor makes one either unduly sensitive orcallously indifferent. Upon June it had the former effect. 

The sense of inferiority was branded upon her. She had seen girlsgiggling at the shapeless sacks she had stitched together for clotheswith which to dress herself. She was uncouth, awkward, a thin black thingugly as sin. It had never dawned on her that she possessed rarepotentialities of beauty, that there was coming a time when she wouldbloom gloriously as a cactus in a sand waste. 

After dinner June went down to the creek and followed a path along itsedge. She started up a buck lying in the grass and watched it go crashingthrough the brush. It was a big-game country. The settlers lived largelyon venison during the fall and winter. She had killed dozens ofblacktail, an elk or two, and more than once a bear. With a rifle she wasa crack shot. 

But to-day she was not hunting. She moved steadily along the windingcreek till she came to a bend in its course. Beyond this a fishing-rodlay in the path. On a flat rock near it a boy was stretched, face up, looking into the blue, unflecked sky. 

CHAPTER III

PALS

He was a red-headed, stringy boy between eighteen and nineteen years old. His hands were laced back of the head, but he waggled a foot by way ofgreeting. 

"'Lo, June, " he called. 

"What you doin'?" she demanded. 

"Oh, jes' watchin' the grass grow. "

She sat down beside him, drawing up her feet beneath the skirt andgathering the knees between laced fingers. Moodily, she looked down atthe water swirling round the rocks. 

Bob Dillon said nothing. He had a capacity for silence that was notuncompanionable. They could sit by the hour, these two, quite content, without exchanging a dozen sentences. The odd thing about it was thatthey were not old friends. Three weeks ago they had met for the firsttime. He was flunkeying for a telephone outfit building a line to BearCat. 

"A man stayed up to the house last night, " she said at last. 

He leaned his head on a hand, turning toward her. The light blue eyes inthe freckled face rested on those of the girl. 

Presently she added, with a flare of surging anger, "I hate him. "

"Why?"

The blood burned beneath the tan of the brown cheeks. "'Cause. "

"Shucks! That don't do any good. It don't buy you anything. "

She swung upon him abruptly. "Don't you hate the men at the camp whenthey knock you around?"

"What'd be the use? I duck outa the way next time. "

Two savage little demons glared at him out of her dark eyes. "Ain't yougot any sand in yore craw, Bob Dillon? Do you aim to let folks run on youall yore life? I'd fight 'em if 't was the last thing I ever did. "

"Different here. I'd get my block knocked off about twice a week. Youdon't see me in any scraps where I ain't got a look-in. I'd rather let'em boot me a few, " he said philosophically. 

She frowned at him, in a kind of puzzled wonderment. "You're right queer. If I was a man--"

The sentence died out. She was not a man. The limitations of sexencompassed her. In Jake Houck's arms she had been no more than aninfant. He would crush her resistance--no matter whether it was physicalor mental--and fling out at her the cruel jeering laughter of one whocould win without even exerting his strength. She would never marryhim--never, never in the world. But--

A chill dread drenched her heart. 

Young Dillon was sensitive to impressions. His eyes, fixed on the girl'sface, read something of her fears. 

"This man--who is he?" he asked. 

"Jake Houck. I never saw him till last night. My father knew himwhen--when he was young. "

"What's the matter with this Houck? Why don't you like him?"

"If you'd see him--how he looks at me. " She flashed to anger. "As if Iwas something he owned and meant to tame. "

"Oh, well, you know the old sayin', a cat may look at a king. He can'tharm you. "

"Can't he? How do you know he can't?" she challenged. 

"How can he, come to that?"

"I don't say he can. " Looked at in cold blood, through the eyes ofanother, the near-panic that had seized her a few hours earlier appearedridiculous. "But I don't have to like him, do I? He acted--hateful--ifyou want to know. "

"How d'you mean--hateful?"

A wave of color swept through her cheeks to the brown throat. How couldshe tell him that there was something in the man's look that had disrobedher, something in his ribald laugh that had made her feel unclean? Orthat the fellow had brushed aside the pride and dignity that fenced herand ravished kisses from her lips while he mocked? She could not have puther feeling into words if she had tried, and she had no intention oftrying. 

"Mean, " she said. "A low-down, mean bully. "

The freckled boy watched her with a curious interest. She made no moresex appeal to him than he did to her, and that was none at all. The firstthing that had moved him in the child was the friendlessness back of herspitfire offense. She knew no women, no other girls. The conditions oflife kept her aloof from the ones she met casually once or twice a year. She suspected their laughter, their whispers about the wild girl onPiceance Creek. The pride with which she ignored them was stimulated byher sense of inferiority. June had read books. She felt the clothes shemade were hideous, the conditions of her existence squalid; and back ofthese externals was the shame she knew because they must hide themselvesfrom the world on account of the secret. 

Bob did not know all that, but he guessed some of it. He had not gonevery far in experience himself, but he suspected that this wild creatureof the hills was likely to have a turbulent and perhaps tragic time ofit. She was very much a child of impulse. Thirstily she had drunk in allhe could tell her of the world beyond the hills that hemmed them in. Hehad known her frank, grateful, dreamy, shy, defiant, and once, for noapparent reason, a flaming little fury who had rushed to eager repentancewhen she discovered no offense was meant. He had seen her face bubblingwith mirth at the antics of a chipmunk, had looked into the dark eyeswhen they were like hill fires blazing through mist because of the sunsetlight in the crotch of the range. 

"I reckon Mr. Tolliver won't let this Houck bully _you_ none, " the boysaid. 

"I ain't scared of him, " she answered. 

But June knew there would be small comfort for her in the thought of herfather's protection. She divined intuitively that he would be a liabilityrather than an asset in any conflict that might arise between her andJake Houck. 

"If there was anything I could do--but o' course there ain't. "

"No, " she agreed. "Oh, well, I'm not worryin'. I'll show him when hecomes back. I'm as big as he is behind a gun. "

Bob looked at her, startled. He saw she was whistling to keep up hercourage. "Are you sure enough afraid of him?"

Her eyes met his. She nodded. "He said he was coming back to marryme--good as said I could like it or lump it, he didn't care which. "

"Sho! Tha's jus' talk. No girl has to marry a man if she don't want to. You don't need any gun-play. He can't make his brags good if you won'thave him. It's a free country. "

"If he told you to do something--this Jake Houck--you wouldn't think itwas so free, " the girl retorted without any life in her voice. 

He jumped up, laughing. "Well, I don't expect he's liable to tell me todo anything. He ain't ever met up with me. I gotta go peel the spuds forsupper. Don't you worry, June. He's bluffin'. "

"I reckon, " she said, and nodded a careless good-bye. 

CHAPTER IV

CLIPPED WINGS

The Cinderella of Piceance Creek was scrupulously clean even thoughragged and unkempt. Every Saturday night she shooed Pete Tolliver out ofthe house and took a bath in the tub which usually hung suspended from awooden peg driven into the outer wall of the log cabin. Regularly asMonday came wash day. 

On a windy autumn day, with the golden flames of fall burning the foliageof the hill woods, June built a fire of cottonwood branches near thebrook and plunged with fierce energy into the week's washing. She was astrong, lithe young thing and worked rapidly. Her methods might not bethe latest or the best, but they won results. Before the sun had climbedhalfway to its zenith she had the clothes on the line. 

Since she had good soapy suds and plenty of hot water left in the ironkettle, June decided to scrub the bed covers. Twenty minutes later, barefooted and barelegged, her skirts tucked up above the knees, theyoung washwoman was trampling blankets in the tub. She had no reason tosuppose that anybody was within a mile of her. Wherefore, since the worldwas beautiful and mere life a joy, she improvised a child's song ofthanksgiving. 

It was a foolish little thing without rhyme or reason. It began nowhereand finished at the same place. But it lifted straight from the heart andperhaps it traveled as far heavenward as most prayers. She danced amongthe suds as she sang it, brown arms, bare to the elbows, stretched to thesunlit hills. 

 Wings--wings--wings! I can fly, 'way 'way 'way off, Over the creek, over the piñons. Goodness, yes! Like a meadow-lark. Over the hills, clear to Denver, Where the trains are. And it's lovely--lovely--lovely. 

It was an unschooled, impulsive cry of the heart to the great soul oflife and beauty that lies back of nature. No human eyes or ears weremeant to see or hear the outburst. A shy girl's first day-dreams of herlover ought no more to be dragged out to the public gaze than this. 

Through the quaking asps by the creek narrowed eyes gloated. Out of thethicket Jake Houck strode with a ribald laugh. 

"Right pretty, my dear, but don't you spread them wings an' leave yoreman alone. "

The dancing spirit fled her flying feet. She was no longer a daughter ofthe skies, attuned to sunshine and laughter and the golden harmony of thehills. Joy and life were stricken out of her. 

He had heard. He had seen. A poignant shame enveloped and scorched thegirl's body. She was a wild thing who lived within herself. It was easyto put her in the wrong. She felt the mortification of one who has beencaught in some indecent exhibition. 

The humiliation was at first for the song and dance. Not till anothermoment did she think of the bare legs rising out of the soapsuds. Hissmouldering gaze brought them to mind. 

Instantly she leaped from the tub, shook down the skirts, snatched upshoes and stockings, and fled barefooted to the house. A brogan dropped afew steps from the start. She stopped, as though to pick it up. But Houckwas following. The girl turned and ran like a deer. 

Houck retrieved the brogan and followed slowly. He smiled. His close-seteyes were gleaming. This was an adventure just to his taste. 

The door of the cabin was bolted. He knocked. 

"Here's yore shoe, sweetheart, " he called. 

No answer came. He tried the back door. It, too, had the bolt drivenhome. 

"All right. If it ain't yore shoe I'll take it along with me. So long. "

He walked away and waited in the bushes. His expectation was that thismight draw her from cover. It did not. 

Half an hour later Tolliver rode across the mesa. He found Houck waitingfor him at the entrance to the corral. Pete nodded a rather surlygreeting. He could not afford to quarrel with the man, but he was one ofthe last persons in the world he wanted to see. 

"'Lo, Jake, " he said. "Back again, eh?"

"Yep. Finished my business. I got to have a talk with you, Pete. "

Tolliver slid a troubled gaze at him. What did Jake want? Was itmoney--hush money? The trapper did not have fifty dollars to his name, nor for that matter twenty. 

"'S all right, Jake. If there's anything I can do for you--why, all yougot to do's to let me know, " he said uneasily. 

Houck laughed, derisively. "Sure. I know how fond you are of me, Pete. You're plumb glad to see me again, ain't you? Jes' a-honin' to talk overold times, I'll bet. "

"I'd as lief forget them days, Jake, " Tolliver confessed. "I done turnedover another chapter, as you might say. No need rakin' them up, lookslike. "

The big man's grin mocked him. "Tha's up to you, Pete. Me, I aim to bereasonable. I ain't throwin' off on my friends. All I want's to make surethey _are_ my friends. Pete, I've took a fancy to yore June. I reckonI'll fix it up an' marry her. "

His cold eyes bored into Tolliver. They held the man's startled, waveringgaze fixed. 

"Why, Jake, you're old enough to be her father, " he presently faltered. 

"Maybe I am. But if there's a better man anywheres about I'd like to meetup with him an' have him show me. I ain't but forty-two, Pete, an' I canwhip my weight in wild cats. "

The father's heart sank. He knew Houck. The man would get by hook orcrook what he wanted. He could even foretell what his next move wouldbe. 

"She's only a kid, Jake, not thinkin' none about gettin' married. In ayear or two, maybe--"

"I'm talkin' about now, Pete--this week. "

Tolliver wriggled, like a trout on the hook. "What does she say? Youspoke of it to her?"

"Sure. She'll like it fine when she gets her mind used to it. I know howto handle women, Pete. I'm mentionin' this to you because I want you touse yore influence. See?"

Pete saw, too well. He moistened his lips with the tip of the tongue. "Why, I don't reckon I could very well do that. A girl's got to make upher own mind. She's too young to be figurin' on marryin'. Better give hertime. "

"No. " Houck flung the word out like an oath. "Now. Right away. "

The trapper's voice took on a plaintive note, almost a whine. "You wassayin' yoreself, Jake, that she'd have to get used to it. Looks like itwouldn't be good to rush--"

"She can get used to it after we're married. "

"O' course I want to do what's right by my li'l' June. You do too forthat matter. We wouldn't either one of us do her a meanness. "

"I'm going to marry her, " Houck insisted harshly. 

"When a girl loses her mother she's sure lost her best friend. It's up toher paw to see she gets a square deal. " There was a quaver of emotion inTolliver's voice. "I don't reckon he can make up to her--"

A sound came from Houck's throat like a snarl. "Are you tryin' to tell methat Pete Tolliver's girl is too good for me? Is that where you'redriftin'?"

"Now don't you get mad, Jake, " the older man pleaded. "These here aredifferent times. I don't want my June mixed up with--with them Brown'sPark days an' all. "

"Meanin' me?"

"You're twistin' my words, Jake, " the father went on, an anxious desireto propitiate frowning out of the wrinkled face. "I ain't sayin' a wordagainst you. I'm explainin' howcome I to feel like I do. Since I--bumpedinto that accident in the Park--"

Houck's ill-natured laugh cut the sentence. It was a jangled dissonancewithout mirth. "What accident?" he jeered. 

"Why--when I got into the trouble--"

"You mean when Jas Stuart caught you rustlin' an' you murdered him an'went to the pen. That what you mean?" he demanded loudly. 

Tolliver caught his sleeve. "S-sh! She don't know a thing about it. Yourecollect I told you that. "

The other nodded, hard eyes gloating over the rancher's distress. "An' o'course she don't know you broke jail at Cañon City an' are liable to bedragged back if any one should happen to whisper to the sheriff. "

"Not a thing about all that. I wouldn't holler it out thataway if I wasyou, Jake, " Tolliver suggested, glancing nervously toward the house. "Maybe I ought to 'a' told her, but I never did. Her maw died of it, an'I jes' couldn't make out to tell June. You see yoreself how it would be, Pete. Her a li'l' trick with nobody but me. I ain't no great shakes, butat that I'm all she's got. I figured that 'way off here, under anothername, they prob'ly never would find me. "

"Pretty good guess, Pete Purdy. "

"Don' call me that, " begged Tolliver. 

Houck showed his teeth in an evil grin. "I forgot. What I was sayin' wasthat nobody knows you're here but me. Most folks have forgot all aboutyou. You can fix things so 's to be safe enough. "

"You wouldn't give me away, Jake. You was in on the rustlin' too. We waspals. It was jes' my bad luck I met up with Jas that day. I didn't beginthe shooting. You know that. "

"I ain't likely to give away my own father-in-law, am I?"

Again the close-set, hard eyes clamped fast to the wavering ones of thetortured outlaw. In them Tolliver read an ultimatum. Notice was beingserved on him that there was only one way to seal Houck's lips. 

That way he did not want to follow. Pete was a weak father, anineffective one, wholly unable to give expression to the feeling that attimes welled up in him. But June was all his life now held. He sufferedbecause of the loneliness their circumstances forced upon her. The bestwas what he craved for her. 

And Jake Houck was a long way from the best. He had followed rough andevil trails all his life. As a boy, in his cowpuncher days, he had beenhard and callous. Time had not improved him. 

June came to the door of the cabin and called. 

"What is it, honey?" Tolliver asked. 

"He's got my shoe. I want it. "

Pete looked at the brogan sticking out of Jake's pocket. The big fellowforestalled a question. 

"I'll take it to her, " he said. 

Houck strode to the house. 

"So it's yore shoe after all, " he grinned. 

"Give it here, " June demanded. 

"Say pretty please. "

She flashed to anger. "You're the meanest man I ever did meet. "

"An' you're the prettiest barelegged dancer on the Creek, " he countered. 

June stamped the one shoe she was wearing. "Are you going to give me thatbrogan or not?"

"If you'll let me put it on for you. "

Furious, she flung round and went back into the house. 

He laughed delightedly, then tossed the heavy shoe into the room afterher. "Here's yore shoe, girl. I was only foolin', " he explained. 

June snatched up the brogan, stooped, and fastened it. 

CHAPTER V

JUNE ASKS QUESTIONS

Houck, an unwelcome guest, stayed at the cabin on Piceance nearly twoweeks. His wooing was surely one of the strangest known. He fleered atJune, taunted her, rode over the girl's pride and sense of decorum, beatdown the defenses she set up, and filled her bosom with apprehension. Itwas impossible to score an advantage over his stolid strength andpachydermous insensibility. 

The trapper sweated blood. He neither liked nor trusted his guest, but hewas bound hand and foot. He must sit and watch the fellow moving to hisend, see the gains he made day by day, and offer no effective protest. For Houck at a word could send him back to the penitentiary and leaveJune alone in a world to which her life had been alien. 

Pete knew that the cowman was winning the campaign. His assumption thathe was an accepted suitor of June began to find its basis of fact. Thetruth could be read in the child's hunted eyes. She was still fighting, but the battle was a losing one. 

Perhaps this was the best way out of a bad situation, Tolliver foundhimself thinking. In his rough way Houck was fond of June. A blind mancould see that. Even though he was a wolf, there were moments when hiseyes were tender for her. He would provide well for a wife. If his littleCinderella could bring herself to like the man, there was always a chancethat love would follow. Jake always had the knack of fascinating women. He could be very attractive when he wished. 

On a happy morning not long since June had sung of her wings. She was ameadow-lark swooping over the hills to freedom, her throat throbbing withsongs of joy. Sometimes Pete, too, thought of her as a bird, but throughmany hours of anguished brooding he had come to know she was a fledglingwith broken wings. The penalty for the father's sins had fallen upon thechild. All her life she must be hampered by the environment hiswrongdoing had built up around them. 

Since the beginning of the world masterful men have drawn to them theeyes and thoughts of women. June was no exception. Among the hours whenshe hated Houck were increasing moments during which a naïve wonder andadmiration filled her mind. She was primitive, elemental. A little tingleof delight thrilled her to know that this strong man wanted her and wouldfight to win what his heart craved. After all he was her first lover. Aqueer shame distressed the girl at the memory of his kisses, for throughall the anger, chagrin, and wounded pride had come to her the firstdirect realization of what sex meant. Her alarmed innocence pushed thisfrom her. 

Without scruple Houck used all the weapons at hand. There came a day whenhe skirted the edges of the secret. 

"What do you mean?" she demanded. "What is it you claim to know about Dadall so big?"

He could see that June's eyes were not so bold as the words. They wincedfrom his even as she put the question. 

"Ask him. "

"What'll I ask? I wouldn't believe anything you told me about him. He'snot like you. He's good. "

"You don't have to believe me. Ask him if he ever knew any one calledPete Purdy. Ask him who Jasper Stuart was. An' where he lived whilst youwas stayin' with yore aunt at Rawlins. "

"I ain't afraid to, " she retorted. "I'll do it right now. "

Houck was sprawled on a bench in front of the cabin. He grinnedimpudently. His manner was an exasperating challenge. Evidently he didnot believe she would. 

June turned and walked to the stable. The heavy brogans weighted down thelightness of her step. The shapeless clothes concealed the grace of theslim figure. But even so there was a vital energy in the way she moved. 

Tolliver was mending the broken teeth of a hay-rake and making a poor jobof it. 

June made a direct frontal attack. "Dad, did you ever know a man namedPete Purdy?"

The rancher's lank, unshaven jaw fell. The blow had fallen at last. In away he had expected it. Yet his mind was too stunned to find any road ofescape. 

"Why, yes--yes, I--yes, honey, " he faltered. 

"Who was he?"

"Well, he was a--a cowpuncher, I reckon. "

"Who was Jasper Stuart, then?"

An explanation could no longer be dodged or avoided. Houck had talked toomuch. Tolliver knew he must make a clean breast of it, and that his owndaughter would sit in judgment on him. Yet he hung back. The years offurtive silence still held him. 

"He was a fellow lived in Brown's Park. "

"What had you to do with him? Why did Jake Houck tell me to ask you abouthim?"

"Oh, I reckon--"

"And about where you lived while I was with Aunt Molly at Rawlins?" sherushed on. 

The poor fellow moistened his dry lips. "I--I'll tell you the wholestory, honey. Mebbe I'd ought to 'a' told you long ago. But someways--"He stopped, trying for a fresh start. "You'll despise yore old daddy. Yousure will. Well, you got a right to. I been a mighty bad father to you, June. Tha's a fact. "

She waited, dread-filled eyes on his. 

"Prob'ly I'd better start at the beginnin', don't you reckon? I never didhave any people to brag about. Father and mother died while I was a li'l'grasshopper. I was kinda farmed around, as you might say. Then I comeWest an' got to punchin' cows. Seems like, I got into a bad crowd. Theywas wild, an' they rustled more or less. In them days there was a goodmany sleepers an' mavericks on the range. I expect we used a running-ironright smart when we wasn't sure whose calf it was. "

He was trying to put the best face on the story. June could see that, andher heart hardened toward him. She ignored the hungry appeal for mercy inhis eyes. 

"You mean you stole cattle. Is that it?" She was willing to hurt herselfif she could give him pain. Had he not ruined her life?

"Well, I--I--Yes, I reckon that's it. Our crowd picked up calves thatbelonged to the big outfits like the Diamond Slash. We drove 'em up toBrown's Park, an' later acrost the line to Wyoming or Utah. "

"Was Jake Houck one of your crowd?"

Pete hesitated. 

She cut in, with a flare of childish ferocity. "I'm gonna know the truth. He's not protecting you any. "

"Yes. Jake was one of us. I met up with him right soon after I come toColorado. "

"And Purdy?"

"Tha's the name I was passin' under. I'd worked back in Missouri for afellow of that name. They got to callin' me Pete Purdy, so I kinda let itgo. My father's name was Tolliver, though. I took it--after thetrouble. "

"What trouble?"

"It come after I was married. I met yore maw at Rawlins. She was workin'at the railroad restaurant waitin' on table. For a coupla years we livedthere, an' I wish to God we'd never left. But Jake persuaded 'Lindy I'dought to take up land, so we moved back to the Park an' I preëmpted. Everything was all right at first. You was born, an' we was right happy. But Jake kep' a-pesterin' me to go in with him an' do some cattle runnin'on the quiet. There was money in it--pretty good money--an' yore maw wassick an' needed to go to Denver. Jake, he advanced the money, an' o'course I had to work in with him to pay it back. I was sorta driven toit, looks like. "

He stopped to mop a perspiring face with a bandanna. Tolliver was notenjoying himself. 

"You haven't told me yet what the trouble was, " June said. 

"Well, this fellow Jas Stuart was a stock detective. He come down for theCattlemen's Association to find out who was doing the rustlin' in Brown'sPark. You see, the Park was a kind of a place where we holed up. Therewas timbered gulches in there where we could drift cattle in an' hide'em. Then there was the Hole-in-the-Wall. I expect you've heard of thattoo. "

"Did this Stuart find out who was doing the rustlin'?"

"He was right smart an' overbearin'. Too much so for his own good. Someof the boys served notice on him he was liable to get dry-gulched if hedidn't take the trail back where he come from. But Jas was rightobstinate an' he had sand in his craw. I'll say that for him. Well, oneday he got word of a drive we was makin'. Him an' his deputies laid inwait for us. There was shooting an' my horse got killed. The othersescaped, but they nailed me. In the rookus Stuart had got killed. Theylaid it on me. Mebbe I did it. I was shooting like the rest. Anyhow, Iwas convicted an' got twenty years in the pen. "

"Twenty years, " June echoed. 

"Three--four years later there was a jail break. I got into the hills an'made my getaway. Travelin' by night, I reached Rawlins. From there I camedown here with a freight outfit, an' I been here ever since. "

He stopped. His story was ended. June looked at the slouchy little manwith the weak mouth and the skim-milk, lost-dog eyes. He was so palpablywretched, so plainly the victim rather than the builder of his ownmisfortunes, that her generous heart went out warmly to him. 

With a little rush she had him in her arms. They wept together, his headheld tight against her immature bosom. It was the first time she had everknown him to break down, and she mothered him as women have from thebeginning of time. 

"You poor Daddy. Don't I know how it was? That Jake Houck was to blame. He led you into it an' left you to bear the blame, " she crooned. 

"It ain't me. It's you I'm thinkin' of, honey. I done ruined yore life, looks like. I shut you off from meeting decent folks like other girls do. You ain't had no show. "

"Don't you worry about me, Dad. I'll be all right. What we've got tothink about is not to let it get out who you are. If it wasn't for thatbig bully up at the house--"

She stopped, hopelessly unable to cope with the situation. Whenever shethought of Houck her mind came to an _impasse_. Every road of escape ittraveled was blocked by his jeering face, with the jutting jaw set inimplacable resolution. 

"It don't look like Jake would throw me down thataway, " he bewailed. "Inever done him a meanness. I kep' my mouth shut when they got me an'wouldn't tell who was in with me. Tha's one reason they soaked me with solong a sentence. They was after Jake. They kep' at me to turn state'sevidence an' get a short term. But o' course I couldn't do that. "

"'Course not. An' now he turns on you like a coyote--after you stood byhim. " A surge of indignation boiled up in her. "He's the very worst manever I knew--an' if he tries to do you any harm I'll--I'll settle withhim. "

Her father shook his unkempt head. "No, honey. I been learnin' for twelveyears that a man can't do wrong for to get out of a hole he's in. IfJake's mean enough to give me up, why, I reckon I'll have to stand thegaff. "

"No, " denied June, a spark of flaming resolution in her shining eyes. 

CHAPTER VI

"DON'T YOU TOUCH HIM!"

Inside the big chuck tent of the construction camp the cook was busyforking steak to tin plates and ladling potatoes into deep dishes. 

"Git a move on you, Red Haid, " he ordered. 

Bob Dillon distributed the food at intervals along the table which rannearly the whole length of the canvas top. From an immense coffee pot hepoured the clear brown liquid into tin cups set beside each plate. Thisdone, he passed out into the sunshine and beat the triangle. 

From every tent men poured like seeds squirted from a squeezed lemon. They were all in a hurry and they jostled each other in their eagernessto get through the open flap. Straw boss, wood walkers, and ground men, they were all hungry. They ate swiftly and largely. The cook and hisflunkey were kept busy. 

"More spuds!" called one. 

"Coming up!" Dillon flung back cheerfully. 

"Shoot along more biscuits!" a second ordered. 

"On the way!" Bob announced. 

The boss of the outfit came in leisurely after the rush. He brought aguest with him and they sat down at the end of the table. 

"Beans!" demanded a line man, his mouth full. 

"Headed for you!" promised the flunkey. 

The guest of the boss was a big rangy fellow in the early forties. Bobheard the boss call him "Jake, " and later "Houck. " As soon as the boy hada moment to spare he took a good look at the man. He did not like what hesaw. Was it the cold, close-set eyes, the crook of the large nose, or thetight-lipped mouth gave the fellow that semblance to a rapacious wolf?

As soon as Bob had cleaned up the dishes he set off up the creek to meetJune. The boy was an orphan and had been brought up in a home with twohundred others. His life had been a friendless one, which may have beenthe reason that he felt a strong bond of sympathy for the lonely girl onPiceance. He would have liked to be an Aladdin with a wonder lamp bymeans of which he could magically transform her affairs to good fortune. Since this could not be, he gave her what he had--a warm fellow-feelingbecause of the troubles that worried her. 

He found June waiting at their usual place of meeting. Pete Tolliver'sforty-four hung in a scabbard along the girl's thigh. Bob remembered thatshe had spoken of seeing a rattlesnake on the trail yesterday. 

"'Lo, boy, " she called. 

"'Lo, June. I met yore friend. "

"What friend?"

"Jake Houck. He was down at the camp for dinner to-day--came in with theboss. "

"He's no friend of mine, " she said sulkily. 

"Don't blame you a bit. Mr. Houck looks like one hard citizen. I'd hateto cross him. "

"He's as tough as an old range bull. No matter what you say or do youcan't faze him, " she replied wearily. 

"You still hate him?"

"More 'n ever. Most o' the time. He just laughs. He's bound an'determined to marry me whether or not. He will, too. "

Bob looked at her, surprised. It was the first time she had ever admittedas much. June's slim body was packed with a pantherish resilience. Herspirit bristled with courage. What had come over her?

"He won't if you don't want him to. "

"Won't he?" June was lying on a warm flat rock. She had been digging updirt at the edge of it with a bit of broken stick. Now she looked up athim with the scorn of an experience she felt to be infinitely moreextensive than his. "A lot you know about it. "

"How can he? If you an' Mr. Tolliver don't want him to. "

"He just will. "

"But, June, that don't listen reasonable to me. He's got you buffaloed. If you make up yore mind not to have him--"

"I didn't say I'd made up my mind not to have him. I said I hated him, "she corrected. 

"Well, you wouldn't marry a fellow you hated, " he argued. 

"How do you know so much about it, Bob Dillon?" she flared. 

"I use what brains I've got. Women don't do things like that. Therewouldn't be any sense in it. "

"Well, I'll prob'ly do it. Then you'll know I haven't got a lick o'sense, " she retorted sullenly. 

"You ce'tainly beat my time, " he said, puzzled. "I've heard you say moremean things about him than everybody else put together, an' now you'retalkin' about marryin' him. Why? What's yore reason?"

She looked up. For a moment the morose eyes met his. They told nothingexcept a dogged intention not to tell anything. 

But the boy was no fool. He had thought a good deal about the lonely lifeshe and her father led. Many men came into this country three jumps aheadof the law. It was not good form to ask where any one came from unless hevolunteered information about antecedent conditions. Was it possible thatJake Houck had something on Tolliver, that he was using his knowledge toforce June into a marriage with him? Otherwise there would be nonecessity for her to marry him. As he had told her, it was a free land. But if Houck was coercing her because of her fears for Tolliver, it waspossible this might be a factor in determining June to marry him. 

"Don't you do it, June. Don't you marry him. He didn't look good to me, Houck didn't, " Dillon went on. He was a little excited, and his voice hadlifted. 

A man who came at this moment round the bend of the creek was grinningunpleasantly. His eyes focused on Dillon. 

"So I don't look good to you. Tha's too bad. If you'll tell me what youdon't like about me I'll make myself over, " jeered Houck. 

Bob was struck dumb. The crooked smile and the stab of the eyes that wentwith it were menacing. He felt goose quills running up and down hisspine. This man was one out of a thousand for physical prowess. 

"I didn't know you was near, " the boy murmured. 

"I'll bet you didn't, but you'll know it now. " Houck moved toward Dillonslowly. 

"Don't you, Jake Houck! Don't you touch him!" June shrilled. 

"I got to beat him up, June. It's comin' to him. D'you reckon I'll letthe flunkey of a telephone camp interfere in my business? Why, he ain'thalf man-size. "

Bob backed away warily. This Colossus straddling toward him would thrashhim within an inch of his life. The boy was white to the lips. 

"Stop! Right now!" June faced Houck resolutely, standing between him andhis victim. 

The big fellow looked at the girl, a slim, fearless little figure withundaunted eyes flinging out a challenge. He laughed, delightedly, thenbrushed her aside with a sweep of his arm. 

Her eyes blazed. The smouldering passion that had been accumulating forweeks boiled up. She dragged out the six-shooter from its holster. 

"I won't have you touch him! I won't! If you do I'll--I'll--"

Houck stopped in his stride, held fast by sheer amazement. The revolverpointed straight at him. It did not waver a hair's breadth. He knew howwell she could shoot. Only the day before she had killed a circling hawkwith a rifle. The bird had dropped like a plummet, dead before it struckthe ground. Now, as his gaze took in the pantherish ferocity of her tensepose, he knew that she was keyed up for tragedy. She meant to defend theboy from him if it resulted in homicide. 

It did not occur to him to be afraid. He laughed aloud, half inadmiration, half in derision. 

"I b'lieve you would, you spunky li'l wild cat, " he told her in greatgood humor. 

"Run, Bob, " called June to the boy. 

He stood, hesitating. His impulse was to turn and fly, but he could notquite make up his mind to leave her alone with Houck. 

The cowman swung toward the girl. 

"Keep back!" she ordered. 

Her spurt of defiance tickled him immensely. He went directly to her, hisstride unfaltering. 

"Want to shoot up poor Jake, do you? An' you an' him all set for ahoneymoon. Well, go to it, June. You can't miss now. "

He stood a yard or so from her, easy and undisturbed, laughing in genuineenjoyment. He liked the child's pluck. The situation, with its salty tangof danger, was wholly to his taste. 

But he had disarmed the edge of June's anger and apprehension. Hisamusement was too real. It carried the scene from tragedy to farce. 

June's outburst had not been entirely for the sake of Bob. Back of theimmediate cause was the desire to break away from this man's dominance. She had rebelled in the hope of establishing her individual freedom. Nowshe knew this was vain. What was the use of opposing one who laughed ather heroics and ignored the peril of his position? There was not any wayto beat him. 

She pushed the six-shooter back into its holster and cried out at himbitterly. "I think you're the devil or one of his fiends. "

"An' I think you're an angel--sometimes, " he mocked. 

"I hate you!" she said, and two rows of strong little white teeth snappedtight. 

"Sho! Tha's just a notion you got. You like me fine, if you only knew it, girl. "

She was still shaken with the emotion through which she had passed. "Younever were nearer death, Jake Houck, than right now a minute ago. "

His back to Dillon, the cowman gave a curt command. "Hit the trail, boy--sudden. "

Bob looked at June, whose sullen eyes were fighting those of her father'sguest. She had forgotten he was there. Without a word Bob vanished. 

"So you love me well enough to shoot me, do you?" Houck jeered. 

"I wish I could!" she cried furiously. 

"But you can't. You had yore chance, an' you couldn't. What you need is amaster, some one you'll have to honor an' obey, some one who'll lookafter you an' take the devil outa you. Meanin' me--Jake Houck. Understand?"

"I won't! I won't!" she cried. "You come here an' bully mebecause--because of what you know about Father. If you were half aman--if you were white, you wouldn't try to use that against me like youdo. "

"I'm using it for you. Why, you li'l' spitfire, can't you see as JakeHouck's wife you get a chance to live? You'll have clothes an' shoes an'pretties like other folks instead o' them rags you wear now. I aim to begood to you, June. "

"You _say_ that. Don't I know you? I'd 'most rather be dead than marriedto you. But you keep pesterin' me. I--I--" Her voice broke. 

"If you don' know what's best for you, I do. To-morrow I got to go toMeeker. I'll be back Thursday. We'll ride over to Bear Cat Friday an' bemarried. Tha's how we'll fix it. "

He did not take her in his arms or try to kiss her. The man was wise inhis generation. Cheerfully, as a matter of course, he continued:

"We'll go up to the house an' tell Tolliver it's all settled. "

She lagged back, sulkily, still protesting. "It's not settled, either. You don't run everything. "

But in her heart she was afraid he had stormed the last trench of herresistance. 

CHAPTER VII

AN ELOPEMENT

Bob Dillon was peeling potatoes outside the chuck tent when he heard awhistle he recognized instantly. It was a very good imitation of ameadow-lark's joyous lilt. He answered it, put down the pan and knife, and rose. 

"Where you going?" demanded the cook. 

"Back in a minute, Lon, " the flunkey told him, and followed a cow trailthat took him up the hill through the sage. 

"I never did see a fellow like him, " the cook communed aloud to himself. "A bird calls, an' he's got to quit work to find out what it wants. Kindanice kid, too, if he is queer. "

Among the piñons at the rock rim above Bob found June. He had not seenher since the day when she had saved him from a thrashing. The boy wasnot very proud of the way he had behaved. If he had not shown the whitefeather, he had come dangerously close to it. 

"How are cases, June?"

His eyes, which had been rather dodging hers, came to rest on the girl atlast. One glance told him that she was in trouble. 

"I don' know what to do, Bob, " she broke out. "Jake will be backto-day--by dinner-time, I reckon. He says I've got to go with him to BearCat an' be married to-morrow. "

Dillon opened his lips to speak, but he said nothing. He remembered howhe had counseled her to boldness before and failed at the pinch. Whatadvice could he give? What could he say to comfort his friend?

"Haven't you got any folks you could go to--some one who would tell Houckwhere to head in at?"

She shook her head. "My father's all I've got. "

"Won't he help you?"

"He would, but--I can't ask him. I got to pretend to him I'd just as liefmarry Jake. "

"Why have you?"

"I can't tell you why, Bob. But that's how it is. "

"And you still hate Houck?"

"Ump-ha. Except--sometimes. " She did not explain that elusive answer. "But it don't matter about how I feel. When he comes back I've got to dolike he says. "

June broke down and began to weep. The boy's tender heart melted withinhim. 

"Don't you. Don't you, " he begged. "We'll find a way, li'l' pardner. Wesure will. "

"How?" she asked, between sobs. "There ain't--any way--except to--tomarry Jake. "

"You could run away--and work, " he suggested. 

"Who'd give me work? And where could I go that he wouldn't find me?"

Practical details stumped him. Her objections were valid enough. With herinexperience she could never face the world alone. 

"Well, le's see. You've got friends. Somewhere that you could kinda hidefor a while. "

"Not a friend. We--we don't make friends, " she said in a small, forlornvoice with a catch in it. 

"You got one, " he said stoutly. "Maybe he don't amount to much, but--" Hebroke off, struck by an idea. "Say, June, why couldn't you run off withme? We'd go clear away, where he wouldn't find us. "

"How could I run off with you?" A pink flood poured into her face. "You're not my brother. You're no kin. "

"No, but--" He frowned at the ground, kicking at a piece of moss with histoe to help him concentrate. Again he found an idea. "We could getmarried. "

This left her staring at him, speechless. 

He began to dress his proposal with arguments. He was a humble enoughyouth who had played a trifling part in life. But his imagination soaredat seeing himself a rescuer of distressed maidens. He was a dreamer ofdreams. In them he bulked large and filled heroic rôles amply. 

June was a practical young person. "What d' you want to marry me for?"she demanded. 

He came to earth. He did not want to marry her. At least he had notwanted to until the moment before. If he had been able to give the reasonfor his suggestion, it would probably have been that her completeisolation and helplessness appealed to the same conditions in himself andto a certain youthful chivalry. 

"We're good pals, ain't we?" was the best he could do by way of answer. 

"Yes, but you don't--you don't--"

Beneath the tan of her dark cheeks the blood poured in again. It was ashard for her to talk about love as for him. She felt the same shy, uneasyembarrassment, as though it were some subject taboo, not to be discussedby sane-minded people. 

His freckled face matched hers in color. "You don't have to be thataway. If we like each other, an' if it looks like the best thing to do--why--"

"I couldn't leave Dad, " she said. 

"You'll have to leave him if you marry Jake Houck. "

That brought her to another aspect of the situation. If she ran away withBob and married him, what would Houck do in regard to her father? Somedeep instinct told her that he would not punish Tolliver for it if shewent without his knowledge. The man was ruthless, but he was notneedlessly cruel. 

"What would we do? Where would we go--afterward?" she asked. 

He waved a hand largely into space. "Anywhere. Denver, maybe. OrCheyenne. Or Salt Lake. "

"How'd we live?"

"I'd get work. No trouble about that. "

She considered the matter, at first unsentimentally, as a workableproposition. In spite of herself she could not hold quite to that aspectof the case. Her blood began to beat faster. She would escape Houck. Thatwas the fundamental advantage of the plan. But she would see the world. She would meet people. Perhaps for the first time she would ride on atrain. Wonderful stories had been told her by Dillon, of how colored mencooked and served meals on a train rushing along forty miles an hour, ofhow they pulled beds down from the roof and folks went to sleep in littlerooms just as though they were at home. She would see all the lovelythings he had described to her. There was a court-house in Denver whereyou got into a small room and it traveled up with you till you got outand looked down four stories from a window. 

"If we go it'll have to be right away, " she said. "Without tellin'anybody. "

"Yes, " he agreed. 

"I could go back to the house an' get my things. "

"While I'm gettin' mine. There's nobody at the camp but Lon, an' healways sleeps after he gets through work. But how'll we get to BearCat?"

"I'll bring the buckboard. Dad's away. I'll leave him a note. Meet you inhalf an hour on Twelve-Mile Hill, " she added. 

It was so arranged. 

June ran back to the house, hitched the horses to the buckboard, andchanged to her best dress. She made a little bundle of her other clothesand tied them in a bandanna handkerchief. 

On a scrap of coarse brown wrapping-paper she wrote a short note:

 Dear Dad, I'm going away with Bob Dillon. We're going to be married. Don't blame me too much. Jake Houck drove me to it. I'll write you soon. Don't forget to take the cough medicine when you need it. 

 June

She added a postscript. 

I'll leave the team at Kilburn's Corral. 

Unexpectedly, she found herself crying. Tears splashed on the writing. She folded the note, put it in the empty coffee pot, and left this on thetable. 

June had no time just now for doubts. The horses were half-brokenbroncos. They traveled the first hundred yards tied in a knot, thebuckboard sometimes on four wheels, but more often on two. 

At the top of the hill she managed to slacken them enough for Bob to jumpin. They were off again as though shot from a bow. June wound the reinsround her hands and leaned back, arms and strong thin wrists taut. Thecolts flew over the ground at a gallop. 

There was no chance for conversation. Bob watched the girl drive. Heoffered no advice. She was, he knew, a better teamster than himself. Hereyes and mind were wholly on the business in hand. 

A flush of excitement burned in June's cheeks. Tolliver never would lether drive the colts because of the danger. She loved the stimulation ofrapid travel, the rush of the wind past her ears, the sense ofresponsibility at holding the lines. 

Bob clung to the seat and braced himself. He knew that all June could dowas to steady the team enough to keep the horses in the road. Everymoment he expected a smash, but it did not come. The colts reached thefoot of Twelve-Mile safely and swept up the slope beyond. The driver tooka new grip on the lines and put her weight on them. It was a long hill. By the time they reached the top the colts were under control and readyto behave for the rest of the day. 

The sparkling eyes of June met those of Bob. "Great, ain't it?"

He nodded, but it had not been fun for him. He had been distinctlyfrightened. He felt for June the reluctant admiration gameness compelsfrom those who are constitutionally timid. What manner of girl was thiswho could shave disaster in such a reckless fashion and actually enjoyit?

At the edge of the town they exchanged seats at June's suggestion and Bobdrove in. It was mid-afternoon by the sun as he tied the horses to therack in front of the larger of the two general stores. 

"You stay here, " the boy advised. "I'll get things fixed, then come backan' let you know. "

He had only a hazy idea of the business details of getting married, buthe knew a justice of the peace could tell him. He wandered down thestreet in search of one. 

Half a dozen cowpunchers bent on sport drifted in his direction. One ofthem was riding down the dusty road. To the horn of his saddle a rope wastied. The other end of it was attached to a green hide of a steerdragging after him. 

The punchers made a half-circle round Bob. 

One grinned and made comment. "Here's one looks ripe, fellows. Jes'a-honin' for a ride, looks like. "

"Betcha he don't last ten jumps, " another said. 

Before Bob could offer any resistance or make any protest he had beenjubilantly seized and dumped down on the hide. 

"Let 'er go, " some one shouted. 

The horse, at the touch of the spur, jumped to a gallop. Bob felt asudden sick sense of helplessness. The earth was cut out from under him. He crouched low and tried to cling to the slippery hide as it bouncedforward. Each leap of the bronco upset him. Within three seconds he hadridden on his head, his back, and his stomach. Wildly he clawed at therope as he rolled over. 

With a yell the rider swung a corner. Bob went off the hide at a tangent, rolling over and over in the yellow four-inch-deep dust. 

He got up, dizzy and perplexed. His best suit looked as though it hadbeen through a long and severe war. 

A boyish puncher came up and grinned at him in the friendliest way. "Hello, fellow! Have a good ride?"

Bob smiled through the dust he had accumulated. "It didn't last long. "

"Most generally it don't. Come in to Dolan's an' have a drink. " Hementioned his name. It was Dud Hollister. 

"Can't. " Bob followed an impulse. "Say, how do you get married?" heasked, lowering his voice. 

"I don't, " Dud answered promptly. "Not so long as I'm in my right mind. "

"I mean, how do I?" He added sheepishly, "She's in the buckboard. "

"Oh!" Dud fell to sudden sobriety. This was serious business. "I'd get alicense at the cou't-house. Then go see Blister Haines. He's the J. P. "

Bob equipped himself with a license, returned to June, and reportedprogress. 

The bride-to-be was simmering with indignation. In those days she had notyet cultivated a sense of humor. 

"I saw what they did to you--the brutes, " she snapped. 

"Sho! That wasn't nothin', June. The boys was only funnin'. Well, I gotthings fixed. We gotta go to the J. P. "

The justice was having forty winks when they entered his office. He wasenormously fat, a fact notable in a country of lean men. Moreover, he hadneither eyebrows nor hair, though his face announced him not more thanthirty in spite of its triple chin. Mr. Haines was slumped far down in abig armchair out of which he overflowed prodigally. His feet were on asecond chair. 

Bob wakened him ruthlessly. He sat up blinking. Bob started to speak. Hestopped him with a fat uplifted hand. 

"I r-reckon I know what _you_ want, y-young man, " he said. 

CHAPTER VIII

BLISTER GIVES ADVICE

Blister Haines, J. P. , was by way of being a character. His waggishviewpoint was emphasized by a slight stutter. 

"S-so you want to h-hitch up to double trouble, do you?" he asked. 

"We want to get married, " Bob said. 

"S-same thing, " the fat man wheezed, grinning. "C-come right in an' I'lltie you tighter 'n a d-drum. "

"I've only got six dollars, " the bridegroom explained. 

"No matter a-tall. My f-fee is jus' six d-dollars, " the justice announcedpromptly. 

Bob hesitated. June nudged him and whispered. The husband-elect listened, nodded, and spoke up. 

"I'll pay you two dollars. "

Blister looked at the bride reproachfully. "L-lady, if you ain't worths-six dollars to him you ain't worth a c-cent. But I'll show you how gooda sport I am. I'll m-make you a wedding present of the j-job. Got anywitnesses?"

"Do we have to have witnesses?" asked Bob helplessly. Getting married wasa more formidable and formal affair than he had supposed. 

"Sure. I'll dig 'em up. "

The justice waddled to the door of the saloon adjoining and stuck hishead inside. A row of cowpunchers were lined up in front of the bar. 

"Y-you, Dud Hollister an' Tom Reeves, I'm servin' a subpoena on you ladsas w-witnesses at a w-weddin', " he said in the high wheeze that soundedso funny coming from his immense bulk. 

"Whose wedding?" demanded Reeves, a lank youth with a brick-red face, thenose of which had been broken. 

"N-none of yore darned business. "

"Do we get to kiss the bride?"

"You h-hotfoot it right to my office or I'll throw you in the c-calaboosefor c-contempt of court, Tom Reeves. "

The puncher turned to Hollister, grinning. "Come along, Dud. Might 'swell learn how it's done, ol' Sure-Shot. "

The range-riders jingled into the office at the heels of the justice. Blister inquired for the names of the principals and introduced thewitnesses to them. The gayety and the audacity of the punchers hadvanished. They ducked their heads and drew back a foot each in a scrapethat was meant to be a bow. They were almost as embarrassed as June andBob. Which is saying a good deal. 

June had not realized what an ordeal it would be to stand up beforestrangers in her dingy dress and heavy cracked brogans while she promisedto love, honor, and obey. She was acutely conscious of her awkwardness, of the flying, rebellious hair, of a hole in a stocking she tried to keepconcealed. And for the first time, too, she became aware of the solemnityof what she was doing. The replies she gave were low and confused. 

Before she knew it the ceremony was over. 

Blister closed the book and dropped it on a chair. 

"Kiss yore wife, man, " he admonished, chuckling. 

Bob flushed to the roots of his hair. He slid a look at June, not surewhether she would want him to do that. Her long dark lashes had fallen tothe dusky cheeks and hid the downcast eyes. 

His awkward peck caught her just below the ear. 

The bridegroom offered the justice two dollars. Blister took it andhanded it to June. 

"You keep it, ma'am, an' buy yorese'f somethin' for a p-pretty. I'd jes'b-blow it anyhow. Hope you'll be r-real happy. If this yere youngs-scalawag don't treat you h-handsome, Tom an' Dud'll be glad to rideover an' beat him up proper 'most any time you give 'em the high sign. AmI right, boys?"

"Sure are, " they said, grinning bashfully. 

"As j-justice of the peace for Garfield County, S-state of C-colorado, I'm entitled to k-kiss the bride, but mos' generally I give her one o'these heart-to-heart talks instead, onloadin' from my chest some f-freegratis g-good advice, " the fat man explained in his hoarse wheeze. "Yougot to r-remember, ma'am, that m-marriage ain't duck soup for n-neitherthe one nor the other of the h-high contractin' parties thereto. It's ag-game of give an' take, an' at that a h-heap more give than take. "

"Yes, sir, " murmured June tremulously, looking down at the hole in herstocking. 

"Whilst I n-never yet c-committed matrimony in my own p-person, me beingample provided with t-trouble an' satisfied with what griefs I alreadygot, yet I've run cows off an' on, an' so have had workin' for me severalof this sex you've now got tangled up with, ma'am, " Blister sailed oncheerfully. "I'll say the best way to keep 'em contented is to feed 'emgood, treat 'em as if they was human, an' in general give 'em a more orless free rein, dependin' on their g-general habits an' cussedness. Ifthat don't suit a p-puncher I most usually h-hand him his hat an' say, 'So long, son, you 'n' me ain't c-consanguineously constructed to ridethe same range; no hard feelin's, but if you're w-wishful to jog on toanother outfit I'll say adios without no tears. ' You can't g-get rid ofyore husband that easy, ma'am, so I'll recommend the g-good grub, s-seventy-five s-smiles per diem, an' the aforesaid more or less f-freerein. "

Again June whispered, "Yes, sir, " but this time her honest eyes liftedand went straight into his. 

"An' you. " The justice turned his batteries on the groom. "You w-wantarecollect that this r-road you've done chose ain't no easy one tot-travel. Tenderfoot come in the other day an' w-wanted to know what kindof a road it was to S-stinking Creek. I tell him it's a g-good road. Yesterday he come rarin' in to f-find out what I told him that for. 'Fellow, ' I says, 'Fellow, any r-road you can g-get over is a good roadin this country. ' It's t-thataway with marriage, son, an' don't youforget it a h-holy minute. Another thing, this being u-united in wedlockain't no sinecure. "

"Ain't no which kind of a sin?" inquired Reeves. 

Dud Hollister grinned admiringly. "Blister sure ropes an' hogties a heapof longhorn words. "

The justice scratched his bald poll and elucidated. "A s-sinecure, boys, is when a f-fellow rides the g-grub line habitual an' don't rope nod-dogies for his stack o' wheats an' c-coffee. " He wagged a fatforefinger at Bob. "You gotta quit hellin' around now an' behave yorese'flike a respectable m-married man. You gotta dig in an' work. At that you'n' the little lady will have yore flareups. When you do, give her thebest of it an' you'll never be sorry. Tha's all. "

Blister slid a hand furtively into a drawer of the desk, groped for amoment, then flung a handful of rice over bride and groom. 

The newly married couple left the office hurriedly. They did not look ateach other. An acute shyness had swept over both of them. They walked tothe buckboard, still without speaking. 

June opened a perspiring little brown palm in which lay two warm silverdollars. "Here's yore money, " she said. 

"It's yours. He gave it to you, " Bob answered, swallowing hard. "For aweddin' present. "

"Well, I ain't no pockets. You keep it for me. "

The transfer was accomplished, neither of them looking into the eyes ofthe other. 

Blister Haines, flanked on each side by one of the witnesses, rolled paston his way to the bar of the Bear Cat House. His throat was dry and heproposed to liquidate his unusual exertion. He always celebrated awedding by taking a few drinks. Any excuse was a good excuse for that. Hewaved a hand toward the newlyweds in greeting. 

Bob answered by lifting his own. He had not taken three drinks in hislife, but he felt that he would like one now. It might cheer him up alittle. 

What in the world was he to do with June? Where could he take her for thenight? And after that what would they do? He had not money enough to paystage fare to get them away. He did not know anybody from whom he couldborrow any. Yet even if he found work in Bear Cat, they dared not stayhere. Houck would come "rip-raring" down from the hills and probablymurder him. 

Anyhow, it would not do for him to act as though he were stumped. Hemanaged a smile. 

"We'd better take the team to the corral, then go get something to eat, June. I'm sure enough hungry. Ain't you?"

She nodded. Even to go to the hotel or a restaurant for dinner was anadventure for her, so little of experience had her life offered. 

As they walked from the barn to the Bear Cat House, the girl-bride wasstill dumb. The marriage ceremony had brought home to her the solemnityof what she had done. She had promised to love, honor, and obey this boy, to care for him in sickness and in health, till death came to part them. 

What did she know about him? What manner of man had she married? Theconsequences of the step they had taken began to appall her. She wouldhave to live with him in all the intimacies of married life, cook forhim, wash his clothes, sit opposite him at the table three times a dayfor fifty years. He was to be the father of her children, and she knewnothing whatever about him except that he was gentle and friendly. 

From under long curving lashes she stole a shy look at him. He was herhusband, this stranger. Would she be able to please him? June thought ofwhat Blister Haines had said. She was a pretty good cook. That was onething. And she would try not to let herself sulk or be a spitfire. Maybehe would not get tired of her if she worked real hard to suit him. 

The hotel was an adobe building. In the doorway stood a woman leaningagainst the jamb. She was smoking a cigar. June looked twice at herbefore she believed her eyes. 

The woman took the cigar from between her lips. "Are you the childrenBlister Haines just married?" she asked bluntly. 

"We--we've just been married by Mr. Haines, " Bob replied with an attemptat dignity. 

The blue eyes of the woman softened as she looked at June--softenedindescribably. They read instantly the doubt and loneliness of the child. She threw the cigar into the street and moved swiftly toward the bride. Amoment before she had been hard and sexless, in June's virgin eyes almosta monstrosity. Now she was all mother, filled with the protectiveinstinct. 

"I'm Mollie Gillespie--keep the hotel here, " she explained. "You comeright in an' I'll fix up a nice room for you, my dearie. You can wash upafter yore ride and you'll feel a lot better. I'll have Chung Lung cookyou both a bit of supper soon as he comes back to the kitchen. A goodsteak an' some nice French frys, say. With some of the mince pie leftfrom dinner and a good cup of coffee. " Mollie's arm was round June, petting and comforting her. 

June felt and repressed an impulse to tears. "You're mighty good, " shegulped. 

The landlady of the Bear Cat House bustled the girl into a room and beganto mother her. Bob hung around the door. He did not know whether he wasexpected to come in or stay out, though he knew which he wanted to do. 

Mollie sent him about his business. "Scat!" she snapped. "Get outa here, Mr. Husband, an' don't you show up till five o'clock prompt. Hear me?"

Bob heard and vanished like a tin-canned pup. He was the most relievedyouth in Bear Cat. At least he had a reprieve. Mrs. Gillespie would knowwhat to do and how to do it. 

If being a married man was like this, he did not wonder that DudHollister and Blister Haines felt the way they did toward that holyestate. 

CHAPTER IX

THE WHITE FEATHER

At the appointed time Bob sneaked back to the hotel. He hung around thelobby for a minute or two, drifted into the saloon and gambling annex, and presently found himself hanging over the bar because he did not knowwhat else to do with himself. 

Was he to go to the room after June and bring her to supper? Or was he towait until she came out? He wished he knew. 

Mollie caught sight of him and put a flea in his ear. "What d' you thinkyou're doing here, young fellow, me lad? Get outa this den of iniquityan' hustle back to the room where the little lady is waitin' for you. Hear me?" she snorted. 

A minute later Bob was knocking timidly on the door of room 9. A smallvoice told him to come in. He opened the door. 

June shyly met the eyes of her husband. "Mrs. Gillespie said maybe you'dwant to wash up before supper. "

"I reckon that'd be a good idee, " he said, shifting from one foot to theother. 

Did she expect him to wash here? Or what?

June poured water into the basin and found a towel. 

Not for a five-dollar bill would Bob have removed his coat, though therehad never been a time in his young life when he would have welcomed morea greenback. He did not intend to be indelicate while alone with a youngwoman in a bedroom. The very thought of it made him scarlet to the rootsof his red hair. 

After he had scrubbed himself till his face was like a shining apple, June lent him a comb. She stole a furtive look at him while he wasstanding before the small cracked mirror. For better or worse he was herman. She had to make the best of him. A sense of proprietorship that wasalmost pride glowed faintly in her. He was a nice boy, even if he was sothin and red and freckled. Bob would be good to her. She was sure ofthat. 

"Mrs. Gillespie said she reckoned she could fix you up a job to help thecook, " the bride said. 

"You mean--to-night or for good?"

"Right along, she said. "

Bob did not welcome the suggestion. There was an imperative urge withinhim to get away from Bear Cat before Jake Houck arrived. There was no usedodging it. He was afraid of the fellow's vengeance. This was a countrywhere men used firearms freely. The big man from Brown's Park might shoothim down at sight. 

"I don't reckon we'd better stay here, " he answered uneasily. "In abigger town I can get a better job likely. "

"But we haven't money enough to go on the stage, have we?"

"If there was a bull team going out mebbe I could work my way. "

"W-e-ll. " She considered this dubiously. "If we stayed here Mrs. Gillespie would let me wash dishes an' all. She said she'd give me twodollars a week an' my board. Tha's a lot of money, Bob. "

He looked out of the window. "I don't want trouble with Jake Houck. It--it would worry you. "

"Yes, but--" June did not quite know how to say what was in her mind. Shehad an instinctive feeling that the way to meet trouble was to face itunafraid and not to run away from it. "I don't reckon we'd better showJake we're scared of him--now. O' course he'll be mad at first, but he'sgot no right to be. Jes' 'cause he kep' a-pesterin' me don't give him noclaim on me. "

"No, but you know what he is an' how he acts. "

"I'll go where you want to go. I jes' thought, seein' how good to us Mrs. Gillespie has been, that maybe--"

"Well, we'll talk it over after supper, " Bob said. "I'm for lighting outmyself. To Laramie or Cheyenne, say. "

As they had not eaten since breakfast they were a pair of hungry younganimals. They did full justice to the steak, French frys, mince pie, andcoffee Mrs. Gillespie had promised. 

They hung for a moment awkwardly outside the dining-room. Both of themwere looking for an excuse to avoid returning to their room yet. 

"Like to look the town over?" Bob asked. 

June accepted eagerly. 

They walked up the single business street and looked in the windows. Theyoung husband bought his bride a paper sack of chocolates and they atethem as they strolled. Somehow they did not feel half as shy of eachother in the open as when shut up together between the walls of abedroom. 

Dusk was beginning to fall. It veiled the crude and callow aspects of thefrontier town and filled the hollows of the surrounding hills with a softviolet haze. 

Bob's eyes met the dark orbs of June. Between them some communicationflashed. For the first time a queer emotion clutched at the boy's heart. An intoxicating thrill pulsed through his veins. She was his wife, thisshy girl so flushed and tender. 

His hand caught hers and gave it a little comforting pressure. It was hisfirst love gesture and it warmed her like wine. 

"You're right good to me, " she murmured. 

She was grateful for so little. All her life she had been starved forlove and friendship just as he had. Bob resolved to give them to her in aflood. A great tide of sympathy flowed out from him to her. He would begood to her. He wished she knew now how well he meant to look after her. But he could not tell her. A queer shame tied his tongue. 

From a blacksmith shop a man stepped. 

"Say, fellow, can I see you a minute?" he asked. 

It was Dud Hollister. He drew Bob back into the smithy. 

"Big guy in town lookin' for you. He's tankin' up. You heeled?"

Bob felt as though his heart had been drenched with ice water. Houck washere then. Already. 

"No, I--I don't carry a gun, " he replied, weakly. 

"Here's mine. Shoots just a mite high, but she's a good old friend. " Dudpressed a six-shooter on Dillon. 

The boy took it reluctantly. The blood in his veins ran cold. "I dunno. Ireckon mebbe I better not. If I talked to him, don't you think--?"

"Talk, hell! He's out for blood, that guy is. He's made his brags rightover the bar at Dolan's what all he's gonna do to you. I'm no gunman, understand. But a fellow's got to look out for number one. I'd let himhave it soon as I seen him. Right off the reel. "

"Would you?"

"Surest thing you know. He's a bad actor, that fellow is. "

"If I went to the marshal--"

Dud's eye held derision. "What good'd that do? Simp ain't gonna drawcards _till after some one's been gunned_. He don't claim to be nomind-reader, Simp don't. "

"I'm not lookin' for trouble, " Bob began to explain. 

"Fellow, it's lookin' for you, " cut in Dud. "You hold that gun rightunder yore coat, an' when you meet up with Mr. Hook or whoever he is, don't you wait to ask 'What for?' Go to fannin'. "

Bob rejoined June. His lips were bloodless. He felt a queer weakness inthe knees. 

"What did he want?" asked June. 

"Houck's here--lookin' for me, " the wretched boy explained. 

"What's that you've got under yore coat?" she demanded quickly. 

"It's a--a gun. He made me take it. Said Houck was tellin' how he'd--dofor me. "

The fear-filled eyes of the boy met the stricken ones of his bride. Sheknew now what she had before suspected and would not let herselfbelieve. 

If it was possible she must help him to avoid a meeting with Houck. Shecould not have him shamed. Her savage young pride would not permit thegirl to mate with one who proved himself a coward at a crisis of hislife. It was necessary to her self-respect that she save his. 

"We'd better go back to the hotel, " she said. "You can stay in our room, and I'll send for Jake an' talk with him downstairs. "

"I don't reckon I'd better do that, " Bob protested feebly. "Hemight--hurt you. No tellin'. "

June ignored this. "Did you hear whether Dad's with him?" she asked. 

"No. "

"Where is Jake?"

"He was at Dolan's drinking when that Dud Hollister seen him. "

"I'll have him come right away--before he's had too much. Dad says heused to be mean when he was drinkin'. "

The hotel was in the same block as Dolan's, a hundred feet beyond it. They were passing the saloon when the door was pushed open and a man cameout. At sight of them he gave a triumphant whoop. 

"Got ya!" he cried. 

The look on his face daunted Bob. The boy felt the courage dry up withinhim. Mouth and throat parched. He tried to speak and found he could not. 

June took up the gage, instantly, defiantly. "You've got nothing to dowith us, Jake Houck. We're married. "

The news had reached him. He looked at her blackly. "Married or single, you're mine, girl, an' you're going with me. "

"My husband will have a word to say about that, " June boasted bravely. 

Houck looked at his rival, and a sinister, mocking smile creased the hardface. "I'm plumb scared of him, " he jeered. 

"We g-got a right to get married, Mr. Houck, " Bob said, teeth chattering. "You hadn't ought to make us trouble. "

"Speaks up right brave, don't he?"

"He's as brave as you are, Jake Houck, even if he ain't a bully, " thebride flamed. 

"So?" Houck moved a step or two toward Dillon. 

The hand under the coat shook as though the boy had a chill. 

"What you got there--in yore hand?" demanded Houck. 

The revolver came to light. 

Houck stuck his hands in his trouser pockets, straddled out his feet, andlaughed derisively. "Allowin' for to kill me, eh?"

"No, sir. " The voice was a dry whisper. "I'd like to talk this overreasonable, Mr. Houck, an' fix it up so's bygones would be bygones. Iain't lookin' for trouble. "

"I sure believe that. " Houck turned to June. "It wouldn't be safe for meto leave you with this desperate character who goes around with asix-shooter not lookin' for trouble. I'm aimin' to take you with me, likeI said. "

Her eyes clashed with his and gave way at last. "You always act likeyou're God Almighty, " she cried passionately. "Are you hard o' hearing?I'm married to Bob Dillon here. "

"I ain't heard him raise any objections to yore goin', " Houck taunted. "Tolliver said for me to bring you, an' I'll do it. "

June spoke to Bob, her voice trembling. "Tell him where to get off at, "she begged. 

"Mr. Houck, June's my wife. She's made her choice. That ends it, " Bobsaid unsteadily. 

The cold, cruel eyes of the ex-rustler gripped those of Dillon and heldthem. "End it, does it? Listen. If you're any kind of a man a-tall you'dbetter shoot me right now. I'm gonna take her from you, an' you're goin'to tell her to go with me. Understand?"

"He'll not tell me any such a thing, " June protested. But her heart sank. She was not sure whether her husband would grovel. If he did--if hedid--

The jeering voice went on taunting its victim. "If I was you I'd use thatgun or I'd crawl into a hole. Ain't you got any spunk a-tall? I'm tellin'you that June's goin' with me instead o' you, an' that you're goin' totell her to go. Tha's the kind of a man she married. "

"No, Mr. Houck, I don't reckon--"

Houck moved forward, evenly, without haste, eyes cold as chilled steeland as unyielding. "Gimme that gun, if you ain't goin' to use it. " Heheld out a hand. 

"Don't, Bob, " begged June, in a panic of dismay. 

While his heart fluttered with apprehension Bob told himself, over andover, that he would not hand the revolver to Houck. He was still sayingit when his right arm began to move slowly forward. The weapon passedfrom one to the other. 

June gave a sobbing sound of shame and despair. She felt like a swimmerin a swift current when the deep waters are closing over his head. 

"Now tell her you ain't good enough for her, that you've got no sand inyore craw, and she's to go with me, " ordered Houck. 

"No. " Young Dillon's voice came dry from a throat like cotton. 

The big man caught Bob's wrist and slowly twisted. The boy gave anagonized howl of pain. June was white to the lips, but she made noattempt to interfere. It was too late. Bob must show the stuff that wasin him. He must go through to a fighting finish or he must prove himselfa weakling. 

"If you give her up now, you're a yellow dog, Dillon, " his tormentorsneered. "Stick it out. Tell me to go to red-hot blazes. "

He took an extra turn on the wrist. Bob writhed and shrieked. Tiny beadsof perspiration stood on his forehead. "You're killin' me!" he screamed. 

"Wish you'd gunned me when you had a chance, don't you?" Houck spat athim. "Too late now. Well, what's it to be?" Again he applied thetorture. 

The boy begged, pleaded, then surrendered. "I can't stand it! I'll doanything you say. "

"Well, you know yore li'l' piece. Speak it right up, " ordered thecattleman. 

Bob said it, with his eyes on the ground, feeling and looking like awhipped cur. "You better go with him, June. I--I'm no good. " A sob chokedhim. He buried his face in his hands. 

Houck laughed harshly. "You hear him, June. "

In a small dead voice June asked a question. "Do you mean that, Bob--thatI'm to go with him--that you give me up?"

Her husband nodded, without looking up. 

No man can sacrifice his mate to save his own hide and still hold herrespect. June looked at him in a nausea of sick scorn. She turned fromhim, wasting no more words. 

She and Houck vanished into the gathering darkness. 

CHAPTER X

IN THE IMAGE OF GOD

Houck's jeering laugh of triumph came back to the humiliated boy. Henoticed for the first time that two or three men were watching him fromthe door of the saloon. Ashamed to the depths of his being, he hung hishead dejectedly. All his life he would be a marked figure because Jakehad stamped the manhood out of him, had walked off with his bride of anhour. 

In the country of the open spaces a man must have sand. Courage is thebasis upon which the other virtues are built, the fundamental upon whichhe is most searchingly judged. Let a man tell the truth, stick to hispal, and fight when trouble is forced on him, and he will do to ride theriver with, in the phrase of the plains. 

Bob had lost June. She would, of course, never look at him again. To havefailed her so miserably cut deep into his pride and self-respect. Withher he had lost, too, the esteem of all those who lived within a radiusof fifty miles. For the story would go out to every ranch and cow-camp. Worst of all he had blown out the dynamic spark within himself that isthe source of life and hope. 

He did not deceive himself. Houck had said he was going to take June toher father. But he had said it with a cynical sneer on his lips. For thegirl to be Jake's wife would have been bad enough, but to be his victimwithout the protection of legality would be infinitely worse. And thatwas the lot to which June was destined. She had fought, but she couldfight no longer. 

Fate had played her a scurvy trick in the man she had chosen. Anotherhusband--Dud Hollister, for instance--would have battled it out for herto a finish, till he had been beaten so badly he could no longer crawl tohis feet. If Bob had done that, even though he had been hopelesslyovermatched, he would have broken Houck's power over June. All the wild, brave spirit of her would have gone out to her husband in a rush offeeling. The battle would have been won for them both. The thing that hadstung her pride and crushed her spirit was that he had not struck a blowfor her. His cowardice had driven her to Jake Houck's arms because therewas no other place for her to go. 

Their adventure had ended in tragedy both for her and for him. Bob sankdown on a dry-goods box and put his twitching face in his hands. He hadflung away both his own chance for happiness and hers. So far as he wasconcerned he was done for. He could never live down the horrible thing hehad done. 

He had been rather a frail youth, with very little confidence in himself. Above all else he had always admired strength and courage, the qualitiesin which he was most lacking. He had lived on the defensive, oppressed bya subconscious sense of inferiority. His actions had been conditioned byfear. Life at the charitable institution where he had been sent as asmall child fostered this depression of the ego and its subjection toexternal circumstances. The manager of the home ruled by the rod. Bob hadalways lived in a sick dread of it. Only within the past few months hadhe begun to come into his own, a heritage of health and happiness. 

Dud Hollister came to him out of Dolan's saloon. "Say, fellow, where's mygun?" he asked. 

Bob looked up. "He--took it. "

"Do I lose my six-shooter?"

"I'll fix it with you when I get the money to buy one. "

The boy looked so haggard, his face so filled with despair, that Dud wastouched in spite of himself. 

"Why in Mexico didn't you give that bird a pill outa the gun?" he asked. 

"I don't know. I'm--no good, " Bob wailed. 

"You said it right that time. I'll be doggoned if I ever saw such a thingas a fellow lettin' another guy walk off with his wife--when he ain'tbeen married hardly two hours yet. Say, what's the matter with youanyhow? Why didn't you take a fall outa him? All he could 'a' done wasbeat you to death. "

"He hurt me, " Bob confessed miserably. "I--was afraid. "

"Hurt you? Great jumpin' Jupiter. Say, fellows, listen to Miss--MissRoberta here. He hurt him, so he quit on the job--this guy here did. Inever heard the beat o' that. "

"If you'll borrow one of yore friends' guns an' blow my brains out you'lldo me a favor, " the harried youth told Hollister in a low voice. 

Hollister looked at him searchingly. "I might, at that, " agreed thepuncher. "But I'm not doin' that kind of favor to-day. I'll give you apiece of advice. This ain't no country for you. Hop a train for Boston, Mass. , or one o' them places where you can take yore troubles to a fellowwith a blue coat. Tha's where you belong. "

Up the street rolled Blister Haines, in time to hear the cowpuncher'ssuggestion. Already the news had reached the justice of what had takenplace. He was one of those amiable busybodies who take care of otherpeople's troubles for them. Sometimes his efforts came to grief andsometimes they did not. 

"Hit the trail, you lads, " he ordered. "I'll l-look out for thisb-business. The exc-c-citement's all over anyhow. Drift. "

The range-riders disappeared. At best the situation was an embarrassingone. It is not pleasant to be in the company of one who has just shownhimself a poltroon and is acutely aware of it. 

Blister took Dillon into his office. He lowered himself into the biggestchair carefully, rolled a cigarette, and lit up. 

"Tell me about it, " he ordered. 

"Nothin' to tell. " Bob leaned against the table and looked drearily atthe floor. The world had come to an end for him. That was all. "He showedup an' took June from me--made me tell her to go along with him. "

"How did he do that? Did he cover you with a gun?"

"No. I had the gun--till he took it from me. " He gave the explanation hehad used twice already within the hour. "I'm no good. "

Blister heaved himself up from the chair and waddled closer to the boy. He shook a fat forefinger in his face. He glared at him fiercely. 

"Say, where you from?"

"Austin, Texas, when I was a kid. "

"Well, damn you, Texas man, I w-want to t-tell you right now that you'retalkin' blasphemy when you say you're n-no good. The good Lord made you, didn't He? D-d' you reckon I'm goin' to let you stand up there an' claimHe did a pore job? No, sir. Trouble with you is you go an' bury yoretalent instead of w-whalin' the stuffin' outa that Jake Houck fellow. "

"I wish I was dead, " Bob groaned, drooping in every line of his figure. "I wish I'd never been born. "

"Blasphemy number two. Didn't He make you in His image? What right yougot wishin' He hadn't created you? Why, you pore w-worm, you're only amite lower than the angels an' yore red haid's covered with glory. "Blister's whisper of a voice took unexpectedly a sharp edge. "Snap it up!That red haid o' yours. Hear me?"

Bob's head came up as though a spring had been released. 

"B-better. K-keep it up where it belongs. Now, then, w-what are youaimin' for to do?"

Bob shook his head. "Get outa this country, like Hollister said. Find ahole somewheres an' pull it in after me. "

"No, sir. Not none. You're gonna stay right here--in the country roundBear Cat--where every last man, woman, an' k-kid will know how you ated-dirt when Houck told you to. "

"I couldn't do that, " the boy pleaded. "Why, I wouldn't have a chance. I'd know what they were sayin' all the time. "

"Sure you'd know it. Tha's the price you g-gotta pay for g-grovelin'. Don't you see yore only chance is to go out an' make good before thefolks who know how you've acted? Sneak off an' keep still about what youdid, amongst s-strangers, an' where do you get off? You know all yorelife you're only a worm. The best you can be is a bluff. You'd bed-duckin' outa makin' the fight you've gotta make. That don't get youanywhere a-tall. No, sir. Go out an' reverse the verdict of the court. Make good, right amongst the people who're keepin' tabs on yore record. You can do it, if you c-clamp yore j-jaw an' remember that yore red haidis c-covered with g-glory an' you been given dominion. "

"But--"

"S-snap it up!" squeaked Blister. 

The red head came up again with a jerk. 

"Keep it up. "

"What'll I do? Where'll I find work?"

"Out on the range. At the K Bar T, or the Keystone, or the Slash Lazy D. It don't m-matter where. "

"I can't ride. "

"Hmp! Learn, can't you? Dud Hollister an' Tom Reeves wasn't neither oneof them born on a bronc's back. They climbed up there. So can you. You'lltake the dust forty times. You'll get yore bones busted an' yore red haidcut open. But if you got the guts to stick, you'll be ridin' 'em slickone o' these here days. An' you'll come out a m-man. "

A faint glow began to stir in the boy's heart. Was there really a chancefor him to reverse the verdict? Could he still turn over a leaf and makeanother start?

"You'll have one heluva time for a while, " Blister prophesied. "Take 'emby an' large an' these lads chasin' cows' tails are the salt o' theearth. They'll go farther with you an' stick longer than anybody else youever met up with. Once they know you an' like you. But they'll be rightoffish with you for a while. Kinda polite an' distant, I expect. S-someoverbearin' g-guy will start runnin' on you, knowin' it'll be safe. It'llbe up to you to m-make it mighty onsafe for him. Go through to a finishthat once an' the boys will begin sizin' you up an' wonderin' about you. Those show-me lads will have to get evidence about 'steen times beforethey'll believe. "

"I'll never be able to stick it. I'm such a--so timid, " Dillon groaned. 

The justice bristled. "H-hell's bells! What's ailin' you, Texas man? Itell you that you're made in His image. Bite on that thought hardwhenever you're up against it an' want to hide yorese'f in a hole. Everytime you get too s-scared to play yore hand out, you're playin' it lowdown on yore C-creator. "

Bob came to another phase of the situation. "What about--June?"

"Well, what about her?"

"She's gone with Houck. He'll not take her home. "

"What d' you m-mean not take her home? Where'll he take her?"

"I don't know. That's it. I'm responsible for her. I brought her here. Hemeans to--to make her live with him. "

"Keep her by force--that what you're drivin' at?"

"No-o. Not exactly. He's got a hold over her father somehow. She's wornout fightin' him. When she ran away with me she played her last card. She'll have to give up now. He's so big an' strong, such a bulldog forgettin' his way, that she can't hold him off. June ain't seventeen yet. She's gettin' a mighty rotten deal, looks like. First off, livin' alonethe way she an' Tolliver do, then Houck, then me, an' finally Houckagain. "

"I'll notify Tolliver how things are, " Blister said. "Get word to himright away. We'll have to take a lead from him about June. "

"I was thinkin'--"

"Onload it. "

"Mrs. Gillespie was so kind to her. Maybe she could talk to June an' takeher at the hotel--if June an' Houck haven't gone yet. "

"You said something then, boy. I'll see Mollie right away. She'll surefix it. "

They were too late. The wrangler at Kilburn's corral had already seenHouck hitch up and drive away with June, they presently learned. 

CHAPTER XI

JUNE PRAYS

When June turned away from her husband of an hour she abandoned hope. Shehad been like a child lost in the forest. A gleam of light from a windowhad cheered her for a moment, but it had flickered out and left her inthe darkness. 

In one sense June was innocent as an infant. She knew nothing of feminineblandishments, of the coquetry which has become so effective a weapon inthe hands of modern woman when she is not hampered by scruples. But shehad lived too close to nature not to be aware of carnal appetite. 

It is a characteristic of frontier life that one learns to face facts. June looked at them now, clear-eyed, despair in her heart. As she walkedbeside Jake to the corral, as she waited for him to hitch up the broncos, as she rode beside him silently through the gathering night, the girl'smind dwelt on that future which was closing in on her like prison walls. 

Not for an instant did she deceive herself. Houck did not mean to takeher to Tolliver. She knew that his conscience would acquit him of blamefor what he meant to do. He had given her a chance to marry him, and shehad made it impossible. That was not his fault. He would take her toBrown's Park with him when he returned. Probably they were on the waythere now. 

After the plunging broncos had steadied down, Jake spoke. "You're wellshet of him. He's no good, like he said himself. A man's got to haveguts. You'd 'a' had to wear the breeches, June. " The long whip curved outinexorably. "Git over there, Buckskin. "

Houck drove like a master. After one wild bolt the dancing ponies hadsensed that a strong hand was at the reins. They accepted the factplacidly. June watched his handling of the lines sullenly, a dullresentment and horror in her heart. He would subdue her as easily as hehad the half-broken colts, sometimes bullying, sometimes mocking, sometimes making love to her with barbaric ardor. There were times whenhis strength and ruthlessness had fascinated June, but just now she feltonly horror weighted by a dull, dead despair. 

No use to fight longer. In a world filled with Jake Houck there was nofree will. She was helpless as a wolf in a trap. 

They drove through a country of sagebrush hills. The moon came out andcarpeted the slopes with silver lace. Deep within June was a born love ofbeauty as it found expression in this land of the Rockies. But to-nightshe did not taste the scent of the sage or see the veil of mist that hadtransformed the draws magically to fairy dells. 

"Where you goin'?" she asked at last. "You said you'd take me to Dad. "

He laughed, slipped a strong arm round her shoulders, and drew hercloser. "Found yore tongue at last, June girl, eh? We're going home--tomy place up in Brown's Park. "

She made a perfunctory protest. It was, she knew, quite useless, and herheart was not in it. No words she used, no appeal she could make, wouldtouch this man or change his intentions. 

"You got no right to take me there. I'm not yore slave. I want to go toDad. "

"Tha's right, " he mocked. "I'm _yore_ slave, June. What's the use offighting? I'm so set on you that one way or another I'm bound to haveyou. "

She bit her lip, to keep from weeping. In the silvery night, alone withhim, miles from any other human being, she felt woefully helpless andforlorn. The years slipped away. She was a little child, and her heartwas wailing for the mother whose body lay on the hillside near thedeserted cabin in Brown's Park. What could she do? How could she saveherself from the evil shadow that would blot the sunshine from her life?

Somewhere, in that night of stars and scudding clouds, was God, shethought. He could save her if He would. But would He? Miracles did nothappen nowadays. And why would He bother about her? She was such a triflein the great scheme of things, only a poor ragged girl from the backcountry, the daughter of a convict, poor hill trash, as she had onceheard a woman at Glenwood whisper. She was not of any account. 

Yet prayers welled out in soundless sobs from a panic-stricken heart. "OGod, I'm only a li'l' girl, an' I growed up without a mother. I'm rightmean an' sulky, but if you'll save me this time from Jake Houck, I'llmake out to say my prayers regular an' get religion first chance comesalong, " she explained and promised, her small white face lifted to thevault where the God she knew about lived. 

Drifts floated across the sky blown by currents from the northwest. Theycame in billows, one on top of another, till they had obscured most ofthe stars. The moon went into eclipse, reappeared, vanished behind thestorm scud, and showed again. 

The climate of the Rockies, year in, year out, is the most stimulating onearth. Its summer breezes fill the lungs with wine. Its autumns areincomparable, a golden glow in which valley and hill bask lazily. Itswinters are warm with sunshine and cold with the crisp crackle of frost. Its springs--they might be worse. Any Coloradoan will admit the climateis superlative. But there is one slight rift in the lute, hardly to bementioned as a discord in the universal harmony. Sudden weather changesdo occur. A shining summer sun vanishes and in a twinkling of an eye thewind is whistling snell. 

Now one of these swept over the Rio Blanco Valley. The clouds thickened, the air grew chill. The thermometer was falling fast. 

Houck swung the team up from the valley road to the mesa. Along this theytraveled, close to the sage-covered foothills. At a point where a drawdipped down to the road, Houck pulled up and dismounted. A gate made ofthree strands of barbed wire and two poles barred the wagon trail. Foralready the nester was fencing the open range. 

As Houck moved forward to the gate the moon disappeared back of thebanked clouds. June's eye swept the landscape and brightened. The sageand the brush were very thick here. A grove of close-packed quaking aspsfilled the draw. She glanced at Jake. He was busy wrestling with the loopof wire that fastened the gate. 

God helps those that help themselves, June remembered. She put down thelines Houck had handed her, stepped softly from the buckboard, andslipped into the quaking asps. 

A moment later she heard Jake's startled oath. It was certain that hewould plunge into the thicket of saplings in pursuit. She crept to oneside of the draw and crouched low. 

He did not at once dive in. From where she lay hidden, June could hearthe sound of his footsteps as he moved to and fro. 

"Don't you try to make a fool of Jake Houck, girl, " he called to herangrily. "I ain't standin' for any nonsense now. We got to be movin'right along. Come outa there. "

Her heart was thumping so that she was afraid he might hear it. She heldherself tense, not daring to move a finger lest she make a rustling ofleaves. 

"Hear me, June! Git a move on you. If you don't--" He broke off, withanother oath. "I'll mark yore back for you sure enough with my whip whenI find you. "

She heard him crashing into the thicket. He passed her not ten feet away, so close that she made out the vague lines of his big body. A few pacesfarther he stopped. 

"I see you, girl. You ain't foolin' me any. Tell you what I'll do. Youcome right along back to the buckboard an' I'll let you off the lickin'this time. "

She trembled, violently. It seemed that he did see her, for he moved astep or two in her direction. Then he stopped, to curse, and the ragethat leaped into the heavy voice betrayed the bluff. 

Evidently he made up his mind that she was higher up the draw. He wentthrashing up the arroyo, ploughing through the young aspens with a greatcrackle of breaking branches. 

June took advantage of this to creep up the side of the draw and out ofthe grove. The sage offered poorer cover in which to hide, but herknowledge of Houck told her that he would not readily give up the ideathat she was in the asps. He was a one-idea man, obstinate even topigheadedness. So long as there was a chance she might be in the grove hewould not stop searching there. He would reason that the draw was soclose to the buckboard she must have slipped into it. Once there, shewould stay because in it she could lie concealed. 

Her knowledge of the habits of wild animals served June well now. Thefirst instinct was to get back to the road and run down it at full speed, taking to the brush only when she heard the pursuit. But this would notdo. The sage here was much heavier and thicker than it was nearer BearCat. She would find a place to hide in it till he left to drive back andcut her off from town. There was one wild moment when she thought ofslipping down to the buckboard and trying to escape in it. June gave thisup because she would have to back it along the narrow road for fifteen ortwenty yards before she could find a place to turn. 

On hands and knees she wound deeper into the sage, always moving towardthe rim-rock at the top of the hill. She was still perilously close toHouck. His muffled oaths, the thrashing of the bushes, the threats andpromises he stopped occasionally to make; all of these came clear to herin spite of the whistling wind. 

It had come on to rain mistily. June was glad of that. She would havewelcomed a heavy downpour out of a black night. The rim-rock was closeabove. She edged along it till she came to a scar where the sandstone hadbroken off and scorched a path down the slope. Into the hollow formed bytwo boulders resting against each other she crawled. 

For hours she heard Jake moving about, first among the aspens and lateron the sage hill. The savage oaths that reached her now and again wereevidence enough that the fellow was in a vile temper. If he should findher now, she felt sure he would carry out his vow as to the horsewhip. 

The night was cold. June shivered where she lay close to the ground. Therain beat in uncomfortably. But she did not move till Houck drove away. 

Even then she descended to the road cautiously. He might have laid a trapfor her by returning on foot in the darkness. But she had to take achance. What she meant to do was clear in her mind. It would require allher wits and strength to get safely back to town. 

She plodded along the road for perhaps a mile, then swung down from themesa to the river. The ford where Jake had driven across was fartherdown, but she could not risk the crossing. Very likely he was lying inwait there. 

June took off her brogans and tied them round her neck. She would haveundressed, but she was afraid of losing the clothes while in the stream. 

It was dark. She did not know the river, how deep it was or how strongthe current. As she waded slowly in, her courage began to fail. She mightnever reach the other shore. The black night and the rain made it seemvery far away. 

She stopped, thigh deep, to breathe another prayer to the far-away God ofher imagination, who sat on a throne in the skies, an arbitrary emperorof the universe. He had helped her once to-night. Maybe He would again. 

"O God, don't please lemme drown, " she said aloud, in order to be quitesure her petition would be heard. 

Deeper into the current she moved. The water reached her waist. Presentlyits sweep lifted her from the bottom. She threw herself forward and beganto swim. It did not seem to her that she was making any headway. Theheavy skirts dragged down her feet and obstructed free movement of them. Not an expert swimmer, she was soon weary. Weights pulled at the arms asthey swept back the water in the breast-stroke. It flashed through hermind that she could not last much longer. Almost at the same instant shediscovered the bank. Her feet touched bottom. She shuffled heavilythrough the shallows and sank down on the shore completely exhausted. 

Later, it was in June's mind that she must have been unconscious. Whenshe took note of her surroundings she was lying on a dry pebbly washwhich the stream probably covered in high water. Snowflakes fell on hercheek and melted there. She rose, stiff and shivering. In crossing theriver the brogans had washed from her neck. She moved forward in herstocking feet. For a time she followed the Rio Blanco, then struckabruptly to the right through the sagebrush and made a wide circuit. 

It was definitely snowing now and the air was colder. June's feet werebleeding, though she picked a way in the grama-grass and the tumbleweedto save them as much as possible. Once she stepped into a badger holecovered with long buffalo grass and strained a tendon. 

She had plenty of pluck. The hardships of the frontier had instilled intoher endurance. Though she had pitied herself when she was riding besideJake Houck to moral disaster, she did not waste any now because she waslimping painfully through the snow with the clothes freezing on her body. She had learned to stand the gaff, in the phrase of the old bullwhackerwho had brought her down from Rawlins. It was a part of her code thatphysical pain and discomfort must be trodden under foot and disregarded. 

A long détour brought her back to the river. She plodded on through thestorm, her leg paining at every step. She was chilled to the marrow andvery tired. But she clamped her small strong teeth and kept going. 

The temptation to give up and lie down assailed her. She fought againstit, shuffling forward, stumbling as her dragging feet caught in the snow. She must be near Bear Cat now. Surely it could not be far away. If it wasnot very close, she knew she was beaten. 

After what seemed an eternity of travel a light gleamed through the snow. She saw another--a third. 

She zigzagged down the road like a drunkard. 

CHAPTER XII

MOLLIE TAKES CHARGE

Bear Cat was a cow-town, still in its frankest, most exuberant youth. Bigcattle outfits had settled on the river and ran stock almost to the Utahline. Every night the saloons and gambling-houses were filled withpunchers from the Diamond K, the Cross Bar J, the Half Circle Dot, or anyone of a dozen other brands up or down the Rio Blanco. They came fromWilliams's Fork, Squaw, Salt, Beaver, or Piney Creeks. And usually theycame the last mile or two on the dead run, eager to slake a thirst asurgent as their high spirits. 

They were young fellows most of them, just out of their boyhood, keen tospend their money and have a good time when off duty. Always they madestraight for Dolan's or the Bear Cat House. First they downed a drink ortwo, then they washed off the dust of travel. This done, each followedhis own inclination. He gambled, drank, or frolicked around, according tothe desire of the moment. 

Dud Hollister and Tom Reeves, with Blister Haines rolling between them, impartially sampled the goods at Dolan's and at Mollie Gillespie's. Theyhad tried their hand at faro, with unfortunate results, and they had satin for a short session at a poker game where Dud had put too much faithin a queen full. 

"I sure let my foot slip that time, " Dud admitted. "I'd been playin'plumb outa luck. Couldn't fill a hand, an' when I did, couldn't get it tostand up. That last queen looked like money from home. I reckon Ioverplayed it, " he ruminated aloud, while he waited for Mike Moran togive him another of the same. 

Tom hooked his heel on the rail in front of the bar. "I ain't made up mymind yet that game was on the level. That tinhorn who claimed he was fromCheyenne ce'tainly had a mighty funny run o' luck. D' you notice how hishands jes' topped ours? Kinda queer, I got to thinkin'. He didn't holdany more'n he had to for to rake the chips in. I'd sorta like a look-seeat the deck we was playin' with. "

Blister laughed wheezily. "You w-won't get it. N-never heard of a hold-upgettin' up a petition for better street lights, did you? No, an' youn-never will. An' you never n-noticed a guy who was aimin' to bushwhackanother from the brush go to clearin' off the sage first. He ain'tl-lookin' for no open arguments on the m-merits of his shootin'. Notnone. Same with that Cheyenne bird an' his stocky pal acrost the table. They're f-figurin' that dead decks tell no tales. The one you played withis sure enough s-scattered every which way all over the floor along withseve-real others. " The fat justice of the peace murmured "How!" andtilted his glass. 

If Blister did not say "I told you so, " it was not because he might nothave done it fairly. He had made one comment when Dud had proposedsitting in to the game of draw. 

"H-how much m-mazuma you got?"

"Twenty-five bucks left. "

"If you s-stay outa that game you'll earn t-twenty-five bucks thequickest you ever did in yore life. "

Youth likes to buy its experience and not borrow it. Dud knew now thatBlister had been a wise prophet in his generation. 

The bar at Gillespie's was at the front of the house. In the rear werethe faro and poker tables, the roulette wheels, and the otherconveniences for separating hurried patrons from their money. The BearCat House did its gambling strictly on the level, but there was the usualpercentage in favor of the proprietor. 

Mollie was sitting in an armchair on a small raised platform abouthalfway back. She kept a brisk and business-like eye on proceedings. Nopuncher who had gone broke, no tenderfoot out of luck, could go hungry inBear Cat if she knew it. The restaurant and the bar were at their servicejust as though they had come off the range with a pay-check intact. Theycould pay when they had the money. No books were kept. Their memorieswere the only ledgers. Few of these debts of honor went unpaid in theend. 

But Mollie, though tender-hearted, knew how to run the place. Herbrusque, curt manner suited Bear Cat. She could be hail-fellow or hard asflint, depending on circumstances. The patrons at Gillespie's rememberedher sex and yet forgot it. They guarded their speech, but they drank withher at the bar or sat across a poker table from her on equal terms. Shewas a good sport and could lose or win large sums imperturbably. 

Below her now there floated past a tide of hot-blooded youth eager tomake the most of the few hours left before the dusty trails called. Mostof these punchers would go back penniless to another month or two of hardand reckless riding. But they would go gayly, without regret, thesunshine of irrepressible boyhood in their hearts. The rattle of chips, the sound of laughter, the murmur of conversation, the even voice of thecroupier at the roulette table, filled the hall. 

Jim Larson, a cowman from down the river, sat on the edge of theplatform. 

"The Boot brand's puttin' a thousand head in the upper country this fall, Mollie. Looks to me like bad business, but there's a chance I'm wrong atthat. My bet is you can't run cows there without winter feed. There won'tmany of 'em rough through. "

"Some'll drift down to the river, " Mollie said, her preoccupied eyes onthe stud table where a slight altercation seemed to be under way. Hermethod of dealing with quarrels was simple. The first rule was based onone of Blister Haines's paradoxes. "The best way to settle trouble is notto have it. " She tried to stop difficulties before they became acute. Ifthis failed, she walked between the angry youths and read the riot act tothem. 

"Some will, " admitted Larson. "More of 'em won't. "

Mollie rose, to step down from the platform. She did not reach the studtable. A commotion at the front door drew her attention. Mrs. Gillespiewas a solid, heavy-set woman, but she moved with an energy that carriedher swiftly. She reached the bar before any of the men from thegambling-tables. 

A girl was leaning weakly against the door-jamb. Hat and shoes were gone. The hair was a great black mop framing a small face white to the lips. The stocking soles were worn through. When one foot shifted to get abetter purchase for support, a bloodstained track was left on the floor. The short dress was frozen stiff. 

The dark, haunted eyes moved uncertainly round the circle of facesstaring at her. The lips opened and made the motions of speech, but nosound came from them. Without any warning the girl collapsed. 

Dud Hollister's arm was under the ice-coated head in an instant. Helooked up at Mollie Gillespie, who had been only a fraction of a secondbehind him. 

"It's the li'l' bride, " he said. 

She nodded. "Brandy an' water, Mike. Quick! She's only fainted. Head notso high, Dud. Tha's right. We'll get a few drops of this between herteeth. .. . She's comin' to. "

June opened her eyes and looked at Mollie. Presently she looked round anda slow wonder grew in them. "Where am I?" she murmured. 

"You're at the hotel--where you'll be looked after right, dearie. " Mrs. Gillespie looked up. "Some one get Doc Tuckerman. An' you, Tom, hustlePeggie and Chung Lung outa their beds if they're not up. There's a firein my room. Tell her to take the blankets from the bed an' warm 'em. TellChung to heat several kettles o' water fast as he can. Dud, you comealong an' carry her to the stove in the lobby. The rest o' you'll stayright here. "

Mollie did not ask any questions or seek explanation. That could wait. The child had been through a terrible experience and must be looked afterfirst. 

From the lobby Dud presently carried June into the bedroom and departed. A roaring fire was in the stove. Blankets and a flannel nightgown werehanging over the backs of chairs to warm. With the help of thechambermaid Peggie, the landlady stripped from the girl the frozen dressand the wet underclothes. Over the thin, shivering body she slipped thenightgown, then tucked her up in the blankets. As soon as Chung broughtthe hot-water jugs she put one at June's feet and another close to thestomach where the cold hands could rest upon it. 

June was still shaking as though she never would get warm. A faint mistof tears obscured her sight. "Y-you're awful good to me, " she whispered, teeth chattering. 

The doctor approved of what had been done. He left medicine for thepatient. "Be back in five minutes, " he told Mrs. Gillespie outside theroom. "Want some stuff I've got at the office. Think I'll stay for a fewhours and see how the case develops. Afraid she's in for a bad spell ofpneumonia. "

He did not leave the sick-room after his return until morning. Molliestayed there, too. It was nearly one o'clock when Blister Haines knockedgently at the door. 

"How's the li'l' lady?" he asked in his high falsetto, after Mollie hadwalked down the passage with him. 

"She's a mighty sick girl. Pneumonia, likely. "

"Tell doc not to let her die. If he needs another doctor some of us'llh-hustle over to Glenwood an' g-get one. Say, Mrs. Gillespie, I reckonthere's gonna be trouble in town to-night. "

She said nothing, but her blue eyes questioned him. 

Blister's next sentence sent her moving toward the saloon. 

CHAPTER XIII

BEAR CAT ASKS QUESTIONS

A man bow-legged into Gillespie's and went straight to the bar. "Gimme adrink--something damned hot, " he growled. 

He was a big, broad-shouldered fellow, hook-nosed, with cold eyes setclose. Hair and eyebrows were matted with ice and a coat of sleet coveredhis clothes. Judging from voice and manner, he was in a vile humor. 

A young fellow standing near was leaning with his back against the bar, elbows resting on it. One heel was hooked casually over the rail. 

"Anything been seen of a strange girl in town to-night?" the newcomerasked. "She ain't right in her head an' I was takin' her to her dad'splace when she slipped away. I'm worried about her, out in this storm. "

The cowpuncher looked at him coldly, eye to eye. "I'd say you got alicense to be. If she's lost out to-night she's liable to be frozen todeath before mo'ning. "

"Yes, " agreed Houck, and his lids narrowed. What did this young fellowmean? There was something about his manner both strange and challenging. If he was looking for a fight, Houck knew just where he could beaccommodated. 

"In which case--"

The puncher stopped significantly. 

"In which case--?" Houck prompted. 

"--it might be unlucky for the guy that took her out an' lost her. "

"What's yore name, fellow?" Jake demanded. 

"Fellow, my name's Dud Hollister, " promptly answered the other. "D'youlike it?"

"Not much. Neither it nor you. "

Houck turned insolently back to the bar for his drink. 

Mike was stirring into the glass of liquor cayenne pepper which he wasshaking from a paper. He was using as a mixer the barrel of aforty-five. 

The salient jaw of Houck jutted out. "What monkey trick are you tryin' toplay on me?" he asked angrily. 

"You wanted it hot, " Mike replied, and the bartender's gaze too was coldand level. 

It seemed to the former rustler that here was a second man ready tofasten a quarrel on him. What was the matter with these fellows anyhow?

Another puncher ranged himself beside Hollister. "Who did this bird claimhe was, Dud?" he asked out loud, offensively. 

"Didn't say. Took that li'l' bride out in this storm an' left her there. Expect he'll be right popular in Bear Cat. "

Houck smothered his rage. This was too serious to be settled by anexplosion of anger and an appeal to arms. 

"I tell you she hid whilst I was openin' a gate. I been lookin' for hersix hours. Thought maybe she'd come to town. My idee is to organize asearch party an' go out after her. Quick as we can slap saddles on broncsan' hit the trail. "

Fragments of the facts had drifted out to the boys from the sick-room. 

Dud tried an experiment. "Where'll we hunt for her--up toward Piceance?"

Houck deliberated before answering. If he were to tell the truth--thatshe had escaped from him in the hills nine miles down the river--thesemen would know he had been lying when he said he was taking June to herfather. If he let the search party head toward Piceance, there would beno chance for it to save the girl. The man was no coward. To his credit, he told the truth. 

A half-circle of hostile faces hemmed him in, for the word had spreadthat this was the man who had carried off June Tolliver. He was the focusof a dozen pairs of eyes. Among the cattlemen of the Old West you willstill look into many such eyes, but never among city dwellers will youfind them. Blue they are for the most part or gray-blue, level, direct, unfearing; quiet and steady as steel, flinging no flags of flurry, tremendously sure of themselves. They can be very likable eyes, frank andkind, with innumerable little lines of humor radiating from the corners;or they can be stern and chill as the Day of Judgment. 

Jake Houck found in them no gentleness. They judged him, inexorably, while he explained. 

"Where was you takin' her?" asked Larson, of the Wagon Rod outfit. 

In spite of his boldness, of the dominating imperiousness by means ofwhich he had been used to ride roughshod over lesser men, Houck felt achill sensation at his heart. They were too quiet--too quiet by half. 

"We was to have been married to-day, " he said surlily. "This Dillon boygot her to run off with him. He was no good. I rode hell-for-leather intotown to head 'em off. "

Blister brought him back to the question of the moment. "An' you weret-takin' her--?"

"To Brown's Park. "

"Forcin' her to go. Was that it?" Hollister broke in. 

"No, sir. She went of her own accord. "

"Asked you to take her there, mebbe?"

"None o' yore damn business. "

"How old is she, Mr. Houck?" Larson questioned. 

"I dunno. "

"I do. Sixteen coming Christmas, " said Dud. "Dillon told me. "

"An' how old are you, Mr. Houck?" the quiet, even voice of the owner ofthe Wagon Rod pursued. 

"I d'no as that's got anything to do with it, but I'm forty-three, " Jakeretorted defiantly. 

"You meant to live with her?"

"I meant to treat her right, " was the sullen reply. 

"But livin' with her, an' her another man's wife. "

"No, sir. That fake marriage with Dillon don't go. She was promised tome. " He broke out suddenly in anger: "What's eatin' you all? Why don'tyou go out an' help me find the girl? These whatfors an' whyfors canwait, I reckon. "

Blister dropped a bomb. "She's found. "

"Found!" Houck stared at the fat man. "Who found her? Where? When?"

"Coupla hours ago. Here in this r-room. Kinda funny how she'd swim theriver a night like this an' walk eight-ten miles barefoot in the snow, all to get away from you, an' her goin' with you of her own accord. "

"It wasn't eight miles--more like six. "

"Call it six, then. Fact is, Mr. Houck, she was mighty scared of you--ina panic of terror, I'd say. "

"She had no call to be, " the Brown's Park settler replied, his voiceheavy with repressed rage. "I'm tellin' you she wasn't right in herhead. "

"An' you was takin' advantage of that to make this li'l' girl yore--toruin her life for her, " Hollister flung back. 

In all his wild and turbulent lifetime Jake Houck had never before beenbrought to task like this. He resented the words, the manner, the quietinsistence of these range men. An unease that was not quite fear, but wasvery close to it, had made him hold his temper in leash. Now the savagein him broke through. 

"You're a bunch of fool meddlers, an' I'm through explainin'. You can goto hell 'n' back for me, " he cried, and followed with a string ofcrackling oaths. 

The eyes of the punchers and cattlemen met one another. No word wasspoken, but the same message passed back and forth a score of times. 

"I expect you don't quite understand where you're at, Mr. Houck, " Larsonsaid evenly. "This is mighty serious business for you. We aim to give youa chance to tell yore story complete before we take action. "

"Action?" repeated Houck, startled. 

"You're up against it for fair, " Reeves told him. "If you figure ongettin' away with a thing like that in a white man's country you've suregot another guess comin'. I don't know where you're from or who you are, but I know where you're going. "

"D-don't push on the reins, Tom, " the justice said. "We aim to bereasonable about this, I reckon. "

"Sure we do. " Dud countered with one of Blister's own homely apothegms. "What's the use of chewin' tobacco if you spit out the juice? Go through, I say. There's a cottonwood back of the kitchen. "

"You're fixin' for to hang me?" Houck asked, his throat and palate gonesuddenly dry. 

"You done guessed it first crack, " Tom nodded. 

"Not yet, boys, " protested Haines in his whispering falsetto. "I reckonwe'd ought to wait an' see how the girl comes out. "

"Why had we?" demanded a squat puncher from the Keystone. "Whatdifference does it make? If ever any one needed stringin' up, it's theguy here. He's worse than Douglas or any other Injun ever was. Is it yorenotion we'd oughta sit around with our hands in our pockets, Blister, while reptiles like this Houck make our girls swim the river at night an'plough barefoot through snowstorms? I ain't that easy-dispositionedmyself. "

"Shorty's sure whistlin'. Same here, " another chap-clad rider chippedin. 

"An' here. "

Blister dropped into the background inconspicuously and vanished. Heappeared to be in a minority of one, not counting Houck, and he neededreënforcements. 

"We'll hear what Mr. Houck has to say before we pass judgment, " Larsonsaid. 

But Houck, looking into the circle of grim faces that surrounded him, knew that he was condemned. Nothing that he could say would make anydifference. He shrugged his heavy shoulders. 

"What's the use? You've done made up yore minds. "

He noticed that the younger fellows were pressing closer to him. Prettysoon they would disarm him. If he was going to make a fight for his life, it had to be now. His arm dropped to his side, close to the butt of therevolver he carried. 

He was too late. Hollister jumped for his wrist and at the same time Mikeflung himself across the bar and garroted him. He struggled fiercely tofree himself, but was dragged down to the floor and pinioned. Before hewas lifted up his hands were tied behind him. 

Unobserved, the front door of the barroom had opened. An ice-coatedfigure was standing on the threshold. 

Houck laughed harshly. "Come right in, Tolliver. You'll be in time totake a hand in the show. "

The little trapper's haggard eyes went round in perplexity. "What's thetrouble?" he asked mildly. 

"No trouble a-tall, " answered the big prisoner hardily. "The boys arehangin' me. That's all. "

CHAPTER XIV

HOUCK TAKES A RIDE

Tolliver rubbed a hand uncertainly over a bristly chin. "Why, what arethey doin' that for, Jake?"

"Are you the Tolliver girl's father?" asked Larson. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Then we got bad news for you. She's sick. "

"Sick?" the trapper's lips trembled. 

"A mighty sick girl. This man here--this Houck, if that's what he callshimself--took her away from the young fellow she'd married and started upto Brown's Park with her. Somehow she gave him the slip, swam the river, an' came back to town barefoot through the snow. Seems she lost her shoeswhile she was crossin' the Blanco. "

The color washed away beneath the tan of the father's face. "Where's sheat?"

"Here--at the hotel. Mrs. Gillespie an' Doc Tuckerman are lookin' afterher. "

"I'd like to go to her right away. "

"Sure. Dud, you know where the room is. Take Mr. Tolliver there. "

"Pete. " Houck's voice was hoarse, but no longer defiant. In this littleman, whom he had always bullied and dominated, whose evil genius he hadbeen, lay his hope of life. "Pete, you ain't a-going to leave yore oldpardner to be hanged. "

Tolliver looked bleakly at him. The spell this man had woven over himtwenty-odd years ago was broken forever. "I'm through with you, Jake, " hesaid. 

"You ain't intendin' to lift a hand for me?"

"Not a finger. "

"Won't you tell these men howcome it I rode down to Bear Cat afterJune?"

The Piceance Creek man's jaw tightened. His small eyes flashed hate. "Sure, I'll tell 'em that. About two-three weeks ago Houck showed up atmy place an' stayed overnight. I knew him when we was both younger, but Ihadn't seen him for a long time. He took a notion to my June. She didn'twant to have a thing to do with him, but he bullied her, same as he didme. June she found out he knew something about me, an' she was afraid tomake him mad. I reckon finally he got some kinda promise outa her. He hadsome business at Meeker, an' he was comin' back to the ranch yestiddy. Then he aimed to bring her here to get married. "

He was looking steadily at Houck. Pete had found at last the courage todefy him. He could tell anything he liked about the escape from CañonCity. 

"I was away all day lookin' over my traps an' fixin' them up. When Ireached home I found two notes. I got 'em here somewheres. " Tolliverfumbled in his coat pockets, but did not find them. "One was from June. She said she was runnin' away to marry the Dillon boy. The other was fromJake Houck. He'd got to the house before I did, found her note to me, an'lit out after her. Soon's I could run up a horse I hit the trail too. "

"Threw me down, eh, Pete?" Houck said bitterly. "Well, there's two canplay at that. "

Tolliver did not flinch. "Go to it, soon as you've a mind to. I don't oweyou a thing except misery. You wrecked my life. I suffered for you an'kept my mouth padlocked. I was coyote enough to sit back an' let youtorment my li'l' girl because I was afraid for to have the truth come outan' hurt her. I'd ought to have gone after you with a forty-five. I'mthrough. They can't hang you any too soon to suit me. If they don't--an'if my June don't get well--I'll gun you sure as God made li'l' apples. "

He turned and walked out of the room with Dud Hollister. 

In the passage they met Mollie Gillespie and Blister Haines. The firstwords the landlady heard were from Houck. 

"No, sir, I've got nothing to say. What'd be the use? You've made up yoreminds to go through with this thing. A fool could see that. Far asTolliver goes, I reckon I'll go it alone an' not do any beefin' abouthim. He threw me down hard, but he was considerable strung up about June. Wouldn't do any good for me to tell what I know. "

"Not a bit, " assented Reeves. "Might as well game it out. "

Houck's hard, cold eye looked at him steadily. "Who said anything aboutnot gaming it out? If you're expectin' me to beg an' crawl you've gothold of the wrong man. I'm a damned tough nut an' don't you forget it. Whenever you're ready, gents. "

From the door Mrs. Gillespie spoke. "What's all this?"

She became at once the center of attention. The punchers grouped aroundHouck were taken by surprise. They were disconcerted by this unexpectedaddition to the party. For though Mrs. Gillespie led an irregular life, no woman on the river was so widely loved as she. The mother of Bear Cat, the boys called her. They could instance a hundred examples of thegoodness of her heart. She never tired of waiting on the sick, of givingto those who were needy. It was more than possible she would not approvethe summary vengeance about to be executed upon the Brown's Park man. 

The prisoner was the first to answer. "Just in time, ma'am. The boys arestagin' an entertainment. They're fixin' to hang me. If you'll accept aninvite from the hangee I'll be glad to have you stay an'--"

"Hanging him? What for? What's he done?"

Tom Reeves found his voice. "He's the fellow done dirt to the li'l'Tolliver girl, ma'am. We've had a kinda trial an'--"

"Fiddlesticks!" interrupted the woman. She swept the group with anappraising eye. "I'm surprised to see you in this, Larson. Thought youhad more sense. Nobody would expect anything better of these flyawayboys. "

The owner of the Wagon Rod brand attempted defense, a little sheepishly. "What would you want us to do, Mollie? This fellow treated the girloutrageous. She's liable to die because--"

"Die! Nonsense! She's not going to die any more than this Houck is. " Shelooked the Brown's Park man over contemptuously with chill, steady eyes. "He's a bad egg. It wouldn't hurt my feelings any if you rode him outatown on a rail, but I'm not going to have you-all mixed up in a lynchingwhen there's no need for it. "

Larson stole a look around the circle of faces. On the whole he was gladMrs. Gillespie had come. It took only a few minutes to choke the life outof a man, but there were many years left in which one might regret it. 

"O' course, if you say Miss Tolliver ain't dangerous sick, that makes adifference, " he said. 

"Don't see it, " Tom Reeves differed. "We know what this fellow aimed todo, an' how he drove her to the river to escape him. If you ask me, I'llsay--"

"But nobody's askin' you, Tom, " Mollie cut into his sentence sharply. "You're just a fool boy chasin' cows' tails for thirty dollars a month. I'm not going to have any of this nonsense. Bear Cat's a law-abidin'place. We're all proud of it. We don't let bad-men strut around an' shootup our citizens, an' we don't let half-grown punchers go crazy an' starthangin' folks without reason. Now do we?" A persuasive smile broke out onthe harsh face and transformed it. Every waif, every under-dog, everysick woman and child within fifty miles had met that smile and warmed toit. 

Reeves gave up, grinning. "I ain't such a kid either, Mrs. Gillespie, buto' course you got to have yore way. We all know that. What d' you want usto do with this bird?"

"Turn him over to Simp an' let him put the fellow in the jail. There'sjust as good law right here as there is anywhere. I'd hate to have it goout from here that Bear Cat can't trust the officers it elects to seejustice done. Don't you boys feel that way too?"

"Can't we even ride him outa town on a rail? You done said we might. "

Mrs. Gillespie hesitated. Why not? It was a crude and primitivepunishment, but it would take drastic treatment to get under the hide ofthis sneering bully who had come within an ace of ruining the life ofJune Tolliver. The law could not touch him. He had not abducted her. Shehad gone of her own volition. Unfulfilled intentions are not criminalwithout an overt act. Was he to escape scot free? She had scoffed at theidea that June might die. But in her heart she was not so sure. The feverwas growing on her. It would be days before the crisis was reached. 

"Will you promise, honest injun, not to kill or maim him, not to doanything that will injure him permanent?"

"Yes, ma'am. We'll jes' jounce him up some. "

"All agree to that?"

They did. 

"Will you go along with the boys, Jim?" She smiled. "Just to see they'renot too--enthusiastic. "

The owner of the Wagon Rod said he would. 

Mollie nodded. "All right, boys. The quicker the sooner. "

Fifteen minutes later Jake Houck went out of town on a rail. 

CHAPTER XV

A SCANDAL SCOTCHED

Before the door of the room opened Tolliver heard the high-pitched voiceof his daughter. 

"If you'd only stood up to him, Bob--if you'd shot him or fought him . .. Lemme go, Jake. You got no right to take me with you. Tell you I'mmarried. .. . Yes, sir, I'll love, honor, an' obey. I sure will--insickness an' health--yes, sir, I do. .. . "

The father's heart sank. He knew nothing about illness. A fear racked himthat she might be dying. Piteously he turned to the doctor, after onelook at June's flushed face. 

"Is she--is she--?"

"Out of her head, Mr. Tolliver. "

"I mean--will she--?"

"Can't promise you a thing yet. All we can do is look after her and hopefor the best. She's young and strong. It's pretty hard to kill anybodyborn an' bred in these hills. They've got tough constitutions. Bettertake a chair. "

Tolliver sat down on the edge of a chair, nursing his hat. His leatheryface worked. If he could only take her place, go through this fightinstead of her. It was characteristic of his nature that he feared andexpected the worst. He was going to lose her. Of that he had no doubt. Itwould be his fault. He was being punished for the crimes of his youth andfor the poltroonery that had kept him from turning Jake out of thehouse. 

June sat up excitedly in bed and pointed to a corner of the room. "Therehe is, in the quaking asps, grinnin' at me! Don't you come nearer, JakeHouck! Don't you! If you do I'll--I'll--"

Dr. Tuckerman put his hand gently on her shoulder. "It's all right, June. Here's your father. We won't let Houck near you. Better lie down now andrest. "

"Why must I lie down?" she asked belligerently. "Who are you anyhow, mister?"

"I'm the doctor. You're not quite well. We're looking after you. "

Tolliver came forward timorously. "Tha's right, June. You do like thedoctor says, honey. "

"I'd just as lief, Dad, " she answered, and lay down obediently. 

When she was out of her head, at the height of the fever, Mrs. Gillespiecould always get her to take the medicine and could soothe her fears andalarms. Mollie was chief nurse. If she was not in the room, after Junehad begun to mend, she was usually in the kitchen cooking broths orcustards for the sick girl. 

June's starved heart had gone out to her in passionate loyalty andaffection. No woman had ever been good to her before, not since the deathof her aunt, at least. And Mollie's goodness had the quality of sympathy. It held no room for criticism or the sense of superiority. She was asinner herself, and it was in her to be tender to others who had fallenfrom grace. 

To Mollie this child's innocent trust in her was exquisitely touching. June was probably the only person in the world except small children whobelieved in her in just this way. It was not possible that this faithcould continue after June became strong enough to move around and talkwith the women of Bear Cat. Though she had outraged public opinion allher life, Mollie Gillespie found herself tugged at by recurring impulsesto align herself as far as possible with respectability. 

For a week she fought against the new point of view. Grimly she scoffedat what she chose to consider a weakness. 

"This is a nice time o' day for you to try to turn proper, MollieGillespie, " she told herself plainly. "Just because a chit of a girl goesdaffy over you, is that any reason to change yore ways? You'd ought tohave a lick o' sense or two at yore age. "

But her derision was a fraud. She was tired of being whispered about. Theindependent isolation of which she had been proud had become of a suddena thing hateful to her. 

She went to Larson as he was leaving the hotel dining-room on his nextvisit to town. 

"Want to talk with you. Come outside a minute. "

The owner of the Wagon Rod followed. 

"Jim, " she said, turning on him abruptly, "you've always claimed youwanted to marry me. " Her blue eyes searched deep into his. "Do you meanthat? Or is it just talk?"

"You know I mean it, Mollie, " he answered quietly. 

"Well, I'm tired of being a scandal to Bear Cat. I've always said I'dnever get married again since my bad luck with Hank Gillespie. But Idon't know. If you really want to get married, Jim. "

"I've always thought it would be better. "

"I'm not going to quit runnin' this hotel, you understand. You're in towntwo-three days a week anyhow. If you like you can build a house here an'we'll move into it. "

"I'll get busy _pronto_. I expect you want a quiet wedding, don't you?"

"Sure. We can go over to Blister's office this afternoon. You see him an'make arrangements. Tell him I don't want the boys to know anything aboutit till afterward. "

An hour later they stood before Justice Haines. Mollie thought shedetected a faint glimmer of mirth in his eye after the ceremony. Shequelled it promptly. 

"If you get gay with me, Blister--"

The fat man's impulse to smile fled. "Honest to goodness, Mrs. Gillespie--"

"Larson, " she corrected. 

"Larson, " he accepted. "I w-wish you m-many happy returns. "

She looked at him suspiciously and grunted "Hmp!"

CHAPTER XVI

BLISTER AS DEUS EX MACHINA

Blister Haines found an old pair of chaps for Bob Dillon and lent him abuckskin bronco. Also, he wrote a note addressed to Harshaw, of the SlashLazy D, and gave it to the boy. 

"He'll put you to ridin', Ed will. The rest's up to you. D-don't youforget you're made in the l-likeness of God. When you feel like crawlin'into a hole s-snap that red haid up an' keep it up. "

Bob grew very busy extricating a cockle burr from the mane of thebuckskin. "I'll never forget what you've done for me, Mr. Haines, " hemurmured, beet red. 

"Sho! Nothin' a-tall. I'm always lookin' for to get a chance to onloadadvice on some one. Prob'ly I was meant to be a grandma an' got mixed inthe shuffle. Well, boy, don't weaken. When in doubt, hop to it. "

"Yes, sir. I'll try. "

"Don't w-worry about things beforehand. Nothin's ever as bad as youfigure it's goin' to be. A lickin' don't last but a few minutes, an' ifyou get b-busy enough it's the other fellow that's liable to absorb it. Watch that r-rampageous scalawag Dud Hollister an' do like he does. "

"Yes, sir. "

"An' don't forget that every m-mornin' begins a new day. Tha's all, son. "

Bob jogged down the road on this hazard of new fortune. 

It chanced that Dud was still in town. Blister found him and half a dozenother punchers in front of the hotel. 

"Betcha! Drinks for the crowd, " the justice heard him say. 

"Go you, " Reeves answered, eyes dancing. "But no monkey business. It's tobe a straight-away race from the front of the hotel clear to theblacksmith shop. "

"To-day. Inside of ten minutes, you said, " Shorty of the Keystonereminded Hollister. "An' this Sunday, you recollect. "

Dud's gaze rested on a figure of a horseman moving slowly up the roadtoward them. The approaching rider was the Reverend Melanchthon T. Browning, late of Providence, Rhode Island. He had come to the frontierto teach it the error of its ways and bring a message of sweetness andlight to the unwashed barbarians of the Rockies. He was not popular. Thiswas due, perhaps, to an unfortunate manner. The pompous little manstrutted and oozed condescension. 

"W-what's up?" asked Blister. 

"Dud's bettin' he'll get the sky pilot to race him from here to Monty'splace, " explained Reeves. "Stick around. He'll want to borrow a coupladollars from you to buy the drinks. "

It was Sunday afternoon. The missionary was returning from South Park, where he had been conducting a morning service. He was riding TexLindsay's Blue Streak, borrowed for the occasion. 

"What deviltry you up to now, Dud?" Blister inquired. 

"Me?" The young puncher looked at him with a bland face of innocence. "Why, Blister, you sure do me wrong. "

Dud sauntered to the hitching-rack, easy, careless, graceful. He selecteda horse and threw the rein over its head. The preacher was just abreastof the hotel. 

The puncher swung to the saddle and brought the pony round. A wild whoopcame from his throat. The roan, touched by a spur, leaped to a canter. For an instant it was side by side with Blue Streak. Then it shot downthe road. 

Blue Streak was off in an eyeflash. It jumped to a gallop and poundedafter the roan. The Reverend Melancthon T. Browning was no rider. Hisfeet lost the stirrups. A hymn-book went off at a wild tangent. Coat-tails flew into the air. The exponent of sweetness and light leanedforward and clung desperately to the mane, crying, "Whoa! Stop! Desist!"

But Blue Streak had no intention of desisting as long as the roan was infront. Tex Lindsay's horse was a racer. No other animal was going to passit. The legs of the dark horse stretched for the road. It flew past thecowpony as though the latter had been trotting. The Reverend Melancthonstuck to the saddle for dear life. 

At the blacksmith shop Dud pulled up. He rode back at a road gait to thehotel. His companions greeted him with shouts of gayety. 

"Where's the parson?" some one asked. 

"Between here an' 'Frisco somewheres. He was travelin' like he was in ahurry when I saw him last. Who pays for the drinks?"

"I do, you darned ol' Piute, " shouted Reeves joyously. "I never willforget how the sky pilot's coat-tails spread. You could 'a' playedcheckers on 'em. D'you reckon we'd ought to send a wreckin' crew afterMelancthon T. Browning?"

"Why, no. The way he was clamped to that Blue Streak's back you couldn'tpry him loose with a crowbar. "

"Here he c-comes now, " Blister announced. 

When the home missionary reached the hotel he found a grave and decorousgroup of sympathizers. 

"I was surely right careless, sir, to start thataway so onexpected, " Dudapologized. "I hope you didn't get jounced up much. "

"Some one had ought to work you over for bein' so plumb wooden-haided, Dud, " the puncher from the Keystone reproved him. "Here was Mr. Browningridin' along quiet an' peaceable, figurin' out how he could improve usRio Blanco savages, an' you come rip-rarin' along an' jar up all hisgeography by startin' that fool horse of his'n. "

Dud hung his head. "Tha's right. It was sure enough thoughtless of me, "he murmured. 

The preacher looked at the offender severely. He did not yet feel quiteequal to a fitting reprimand. "You see the evil effects of letting thatvile stuff pass your lips. I hope this will be a lesson to you, youngman. If I had not kept my presence of mind I might have been thrown andseverely injured. "

"Yes, sir, " agreed Dud in a small, contrite voice. 

"Makin' the preacher race on Sunday, too, " chided Reeves. "Why, Ishouldn't wonder but what it might get out an' spread scandalous. We'llall have to tell folks about it so's they'll get the right of it. "

Melancthon squirmed. He could guess how the story would be told. "We'llsay no more about it, if you please. The young man is sorry. I forgivehim. His offense was inadvertent even though vexatious. If he will profitby this experience I will gladly suffer the incommodious ride. "

After the missionary had gone and the bet been liquidated, Blister drewHollister to one side. "I'm guessin' that when you get back to the ranchyou'll find a new rider in the bunkhouse, Dud. "

The puncher waited. He knew this was preliminary matter. 

"That young fellow Bob Dillon, " explained the fat man. 

"If you're expectin' me to throw up my hat an' shout, Blister, I got todisappoint you, " Dud replied. "I like 'em man-size. "

"I'm p-puttin' him in yore charge. "

"You ain't either, " the range-rider repudiated indignantly. 

"To m-make a man of him. "

"Hell's bells! I'm no dry nurse to fellows shy of sand. He can travel alone trail for all of me. "

"Keep him kinda encouraged. "

"Why pick on me, Blister? I don't want the job. He ain't there, I tellyou. Any fellow that would let another guy take his wife away from himan' not hang his hide up to dry--No, sir, I got no manner o' use for him. You can't onload him on me. "

"I've been thinkin' that when you are alone with him some t-time you'dbetter devil him into a fight, then let him whale the stuffin' outa you. That'll do him a l-lot of good--give him confidence. "

Hollister stared. His face broke slowly to a grin. "I got to give it toyou, Blister. I'll bet there ain't any more like you at home. Let himlick me, eh? So's to give him confidence. Wallop me good an' plenty, yousaid, didn't you? By gum, you sure enough take the cake. "

"Won't hurt you any. You've give an' took plenty of 'em. Think of him. "

"Think of me, come to that. "

"L-listen, Dud. That boy's what they call c-c-constitutionally timid. There's folks that way, born so a shadow scares 'em. But he'ss-s-sensitive as a g-girl. Don't you make any mistake, son. He's beeneatin' his h-heart out ever since he crawled before Houck. I like thatboy. There's good s-stuff in him. At least I'm makin' a bet there is. Question is, will it ever get a chance to show? Inside of three monthshe'll either win out or he'll be headed for hell, an' he won't betravelin' at no drift-herd gait neither. "

"Every man's got to stand on his own hind laigs, ain't he?" Hollistergrunted. He was weakening, and he knew it. 

"He needs a friend, worst way, " Blister wheezed. "'Course, if you'drather not--"

"Doggone yore hide, you're always stickin' me somehow, " stormed thecowboy. "Trouble with me is I'm so soft I'm always gettin' imposed on. Idone told you I didn't like this guy a-tall. That don't make no moreimpression on you than a cold runnin'-iron would on a cow. "

"M-much obliged, Dud. I knew you'd do it. "

"I ain't said I'd do it. "

"S-some of the boys are liable to get on the prod with him. He'll have toplay his own hand. Tha's reasonable. But kinda back him up when you get achance. That notion of lettin' him lick you is a humdinger. Glad youthought of it. "

"I didn't think of it, an' I ain't thinkin' of it now, " Dud retorted. "You blamed old fat skeezicks, you lay around figurin' out ways to makeme trouble. You're worse than Mrs. Gillespie for gettin' yore own way. Hmp! Devil him into a fight an' then let him hand me a lacin'. I reckonnot. "

"He'll figure that since he can lick you, he can make out to look afterhimself with the other boys. "

"He ain't licked me yet, an' that's only half of it. He ain't a-goin'to. "

Fuming at this outrageous proposition put up to him, the puncher jingledaway and left his triple-chinned friend. 

Blister grinned. The seed he had scattered might have fallen among therocks and the thorns, but he was willing to make a small bet with himselfthat some of it had lit on good ground and would bear fruit. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE BACK OF A BRONC

The bunkhouse of the Slash Lazy D received Bob Dillon gravely and withchill civility. He sat on his bunk that first evening, close enough totouch a neighbor on either hand, and was left as completely out of theconversation as though he were a thousand miles away. With each other theriders were jocular and familiar. They "rode" one another with familiarjokes. The new puncher they let alone. 

Bob had brought some cigars with him. He offered them eagerly to thechap-clad youth on his right. "Take one, won't you? An' pass the othersround. "

The name of the cowboy was Hawks. He looked at the cigars with disfavor. "I reckon I'll not be carin' for a cigar to-night, thank you, " he saidslowly. 

"Perhaps the others--if you'll pass them. "

Hawks handed the cigars to a brick-red Hercules patching his overalls. From him they went to his neighbor. Presently the cheroots came back totheir owner. They had been offered to every man in the room and not onehad been taken. 

Bob's cheeks burned. Notice was being served on him that the pleasantgive-and-take of comradeship was not for him. The lights went out early, but long into the night the boy lay awake in torment. If he had been aleper the line could scarcely have been drawn more plainly. These menwould eat with him because they must. They would sleep in the same room. They would answer a question if he put it directly. But they wouldneither give nor accept favors. He was not to be one of them. 

Many times in the months that were to follow he was to know the sting ofshame that burned him now at memory of the scene between him and JakeHouck at Bear Cat. He tossed on the bunk, burying his face in theblankets in a vain effort to blot out the picture. Why had he not shotthe fellow? Why, at least, had he not fought? If he had done anything, but what he did do? If he had even stuck it out and endured the painwithout yielding. 

In the darkness he lived over every little incident of the evening. WhenHawks had met him he had grinned and hoped he would like the Slash LazyD. There had been friendliness in the crinkled, leathery face. But whenhe passed Bob ten minutes later the blue eyes had frozen. He had heardwho the new rider was. 

He would not stand it. He could not. In the morning he would pack up hisroll and ride back to Bear Cat. It was all very well for Blister Hainesto talk about standing the gaff, but he did not have to put up with suchtreatment. 

But when morning came Bob set his teeth and resolved to go through withit for a while anyhow. He could quit at any time. He wanted to be able totell the justice that he had given his plan a fair trial. 

In silence Bob ate his breakfast. This finished, the riders moved acrossto the corral. 

"Better rope and saddle you a mount, " Harshaw told his new man curtly. "Buck, you show him the ones he can choose from. "

Hawks led the way to a smaller corral. "Any one o' these except the roanwith the white stockings an' the pinto, " he said. 

Dillon walked through the gate of the enclosure and closed it. Headjusted the rope, selected the bronco that looked to him the meekest, and moved toward it. The ponies began to circle close to the fence. Theone he wanted was racing behind the white-stockinged roan. For a momentit appeared in front. The rope snaked out and slid down its side. Bobgathered in the lariat, wound it, waited for a chance, and tried again. The meek bronco shook its head as the rope fell and caught on one ear. Asecond time the loop went down into the dust. 

Some one laughed, an unpleasant, sarcastic cackle. Bob turned. Four orfive of the punchers, mounted and ready for the day's work, were sittingat ease in their saddles enjoying the performance. 

Bob gave himself to the job in hand, though his ears burned. As ayoungster he had practiced roping. It was a pastime of the boys amongwhom he grew up. But he had never been an expert, and now such skill ashe had acquired deserted him. The loop sailed out half a dozen timesbefore it dropped over the head of the sorrel. 

The new rider for the Slash Lazy D saddled and cinched a bronco which nolonger took an interest in the proceedings. Out of the corner of his eye, without once looking their way, Bob was aware of subdued hilarity amongthe bronzed wearers of chaps. He attended strictly to business. 

Just before he pulled himself to the saddle Bob felt a momentary qualm atthe solar plexus. He did not give this time to let it deter him. His feetsettled into the stirrups. An instant violent earthquake disturbed hisequilibrium. A shock jarred him from the base of the spine to the neck. Urgently he flew through space. 

Details of the landscape gathered themselves together again. From acorner of the corral Bob looked out upon a world full of grinning faces. A sick dismay rose in him and began to submerge his heart. They were gladhe had been thrown. The earth was inhabited by a race of brutal andtruculent savages. What was the use of trying? He could never hold outagainst them. 

Out of the mists of memory he heard a wheezy voice issuing from a greatbulk of a man--". .. Yore red haid's covered with glory. Snap it up!" Thewords came so clear that for an instant he was startled. He looked roundhalf expecting to see Blister. 

Stiffly he gathered himself out of the snow slush. A pain jumped in theleft shoulder. He limped to the rope and coiled it. The first castcaptured the sorrel. 

His limbs were trembling when he dropped into the saddle. With both handshe clung to the horn. Up went the bronco on its hind legs. It pitched, bucked, sun-fished. In sheer terror Bob clung like a leech. The animalleft the ground and jolted down stiff-legged on all fours. The impact wasterrific. He felt as though a piledriver had fallen on his head andpropelled his vital organs together like a concertina. Before he couldset himself the sorrel went up again with a weaving, humpbacked twist. The rider shot from the saddle. 

When the scenery had steadied itself for Dillon he noticed languidly achange in one aspect of it. The faces turned toward him were no longergrinning. They were watching him expectantly. What would he do now?

They need not look at him like that. He was through. If he got on theback of that brute again it would kill him. Already he was bleeding atthe nose and ears. Sometimes men died just from the shock of being tossedabout so furiously. 

The sorrel was standing by itself at the other end of the corral. Itshead was drooping languidly. The bronco was a picture of injuredinnocence. 

Bob discovered that he hated it with an impotent lust to destroy. If hehad a gun with him--Out of the air a squeaky voice came to him: "C-clampyore jaw, you worm! You been given dominion. " And after that, a momentlater, ". .. Made in the image of God. "

Unsteadily he rose. The eyes of the Slash Lazy D riders watched himrelentlessly and yet curiously. Would he quit? Or would he go through?

He had an odd feeling that his body was a thing detached from himself. Itwas full of aches and pains. Its legs wobbled as he moved. Its headseemed swollen to twice the normal size. He had strangely small controlover it. When he walked, it was jerkily, as a drunk man sometimes does. His hand caught at the fence to steady himself. He swayed dizzily. Asurge of sickness swept through his organs. After this he felt better. Hehad not consciously made up his mind to try again, but he found himselfmoving toward the sorrel. This time he could hardly drag his weight intothe saddle. 

The mind of a bronco is unfathomable. This one now pitched weakly once ortwice, then gave up in unconditional surrender. Bob's surprise wascomplete. He had expected, after being shaken violently, to be flung intothe mire again. The reaction was instantaneous and exhilarating. Heforgot that he was covered with mud and bruises, that every inch of himcried aloud with aches. He had won, had mastered a wild outlaw horse ashe had seen busters do. For the moment he saw the world at his feet. Alittle lower than the angels, he had been given dominion. 

He rode to the gate and opened it. Hawks was looking at him, a puzzledlook in his eyes. He had evidently seen something he had not expected tosee. 

Harshaw had ridden up during the bronco-busting. He spoke now to Bob. "You'll cover Beaver Creek to-day--you and Buck. "

Something in the cattleman's eye, in the curtness of his speech, broughtDillon back to earth. He had divined that his boss did not like him, hademployed him only because Blister Haines had made a personal point of it. Harshaw was a big weather-beaten man of forty, hard, keen-eyed, square asa die. Game himself, he had little patience with those who did not standthe acid test. 

Bob felt himself shrinking up. He had not done anything after all, nothing that any one of these men could not do without half trying. Therewas no way to wipe out his failure when a real ordeal had confronted him. What was written in the book of life was written. 

He turned his pony and followed Hawks across the mesa. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FIRST DAY

In the wake of Hawks Bob rode through the buckbrush. There was smallchance for conversation, and in any case neither of them was in the moodfor talk. Bob's sensitive soul did not want to risk the likelihood of arebuff. He was susceptible to atmospheres, and he knew that Buck wassulky at being saddled with him. 

He was right. Buck did not see why Harshaw had put this outcasttenderfoot on him. He did not see why he had hired him at all. One thingwas sure. He was not going to let the fellow get round him. No, sir. Noton his tintype he wasn't. 

Since it was the only practical way at present to show his disgust andmake the new puncher feel like a fool, Hawks led him through the roughestcountry he could find at the fastest feasible gait. Buck was a notablywild rider in a country of reckless horsemen. Like all punchers, he hadbeen hurt time and again. He had taken dozens of falls. Two broncos hadgone down under him with broken necks. A third had twisted its leg in abeaver burrow and later had to be shot. This day he outdid himself. 

As young Dillon raced behind him along side hills after dogies fleet asblacktails, the heart fluttered in his bosom like a frightened bird in acage. He did not pretend to keep up with Hawks. The best he could do wasto come loping up after the excitement was over. The range-rider made nospoken comment whatever, but his scornful blue eyes said all that wasnecessary. 

The day's work did not differ except in details from that of yesterdayand to-morrow. They headed back two three-year-olds drifting too farnorth. They came on a Slash Lazy D cow with a young calf and moved itslowly down to better feed near the creek. In the afternoon they found ayearling sunk in a bog. After trying to pull it out by the ears, theyroped its body and tugged together. Their efforts did not budge theanimal. Hawks tied one end of the rope to the saddle-horn, swung up, andput the pony to the pull. The muscles of the bronco's legs stood out asit leaned forward and scratched for a foothold. The calf blatted withpain, but presently it was snaked out from the quagmire to the firmearth. 

They crossed the creek and returned on the other side. Late in theafternoon they met half a dozen Utes riding their inferior ponies. Theyhad evidently been hunting, for most of them carried deer. Old Colorowwas at their head. 

He grunted "How!" sulkily. The other braves passed without speaking. Something in their manner sent a shiver up Dillon's spine. He and Hawkswere armed only with revolvers. It would be the easiest thing in theworld for the Indians to kill them if they wished. 

Hawks called a cheerful greeting. It suggested the friendliest offeeling. The instructions given to the punchers were to do nothing toirritate the Utes just now. 

The mental attitude of the Indians toward the cattlemen and cowboys was acurious one. They were suspicious of them. They resented their presencein the country. But they felt a very wholesome respect for them. Theseleather-chapped youths could outride and outshoot them. With or withoutreason, the Utes felt only contempt for soldiers. They were so easily ledinto traps. They bunched together when under fire instead of scatteringfor cover. They did not know how to read sign on the warmest trail. Theserange-riders were different. If they were not as wary as the Utes, theymade up for it by the dash and aplomb with which they broke throughdifficulties. 

In Bear Cat the day before Bob had heard settlers discuss the unrest ofthe Indians. The rumor was that soon they meant to go on the warpathagain. Colorow himself, with a specious air of good will, had warned acattleman to leave the country while there was time. 

"You mebbe go--mebbe not come back, " he had suggested meaningly. "Mebbebetter so. Colorow friend. He speak wise words. "

Until the Utes were out of gunshot Bob felt very uneasy. It was not manyyears since the Meeker massacre and the ambushing of Major Thornburg'stroops on Milk Creek. 

Reeves and Hollister were in the bunkhouse when Bob entered it justbefore supper. He heard Dud's voice. 

". .. Don't like a hair of his red haid, but that's how it'll be far asI'm concerned. "

There was a moment's awkward silence. Dillon knew they had been talkingabout him. Beneath the deep gold of his blond skin Hollister flushed. Boythough he was, Dud usually had the self-possession of the Sphinx. Butmomentarily he was embarrassed. 

"Hello, fellow!" he shouted across the room. "How'd she go?"

"All right, I reckon, " Bob answered. "I wasn't much use. "

He wanted to ask Dud a question, but he dared not ask it before anybodyelse. It hung in his mind all through supper. Afterward he found hischance. He did not look at Hollister while he spoke. 

"Did--did you hear how--Miss Tolliver is?" he asked. 

"Doc says he can't tell a thing yet. She's still mighty sick. But Blisterhe sent word to you that he'd let you know soon as there is a change. "

"Much obliged. "

Bob moved away. He did not want to annoy anybody by pressing hisundesirable society upon him. 

That night he slept like a hibernating bear. The dread of the morrow wasno longer so heavy upon him. Drowsily, while his eyes were closing, herecalled the prediction of the fat justice that no experience is as badas one's fears imagine it will be. That had been true to-day at least. Even his fight with the sorrel, the name of which he had later discoveredto be Powder River, was now only a memory which warmed and cheered. 

Cowpunchers usually rode in couples. Bob learned next morning that he waspaired with Dud. They were to comb the Crooked Wash country. 

CHAPTER XIX

DUD QUALIFIES AS COURT JESTER

It was still dark when Dud Hollister and Bob Dillon waded through thesnow to the corral and saddled their horses. 

They jogged across the mesa through the white drifts. 

Bob's pony stumbled into a burrow, but pulled out again without damage. 

In the years when cattle first came to the Rio Blanco the danger fromfalls was greater than it is now, even if the riding had not been harder. A long thick grass often covered the badger holes. 

"How does a fellow look out for badger and prairie-dog holes?" Bob askedhis companion as they jogged along at a road gait. "I mean when he'schasin' dogies across a hill on the jump. "

"He don't, " Dud answered ungrammatically but promptly. "His bronc 'tendsto that. If you try to guide you're sure enough liable to take a fall. "

"But when the hole's covered with grass?"

"You gotta take a chance, " Dud said. "They're sure-footed, thesecowponies are. A fellow gets to thinkin' they can't fall. Then down hegoes. He jumps clear if he can an' lights loose. "

"And if he can't?"

"He's liable to get stove up. I seen five waddies yesterday in Bear Catwith busted legs or arms. Doc's fixin' 'em up good as new. In a week ortwo they'll be ridin' again. "

Bob had seen those same crippled cowboys and he could not quite get themout of his mind. He knew of two punchers killed within the year fromfalls. 

"Ridin' for a dogie outfit ain't no sin-cure, as Blister told you whilehe was splicin' you 'n' Miss Tolliver, " Dud went on. "It's a man-sizejob. There's ol' Charley Mason now. He's had his ribs stove in, busted anarm, shot hisself by accident, got rheumatism, had his nose bit off by arailroad guy while he was b'iled, an' finally married a femalebattle-axe, all inside o' two years. He's the hard luck champeen, though, Charley is. "

It had snowed heavily during the night. The day was "soft, " in the phraseof the pioneer. In places the ground was almost clear. In others thedrifts were deep. From a hillside they looked down into a grove ofcottonwoods that filled a small draw. Here the snow had blown in and washeavy. Three elk were floundering in the white banks. 

Dud waded in and shot two with his revolver. The third was a doe. Thecowponies snaked them out to the open. 

"We'll take 'em with us to 'Leven Mile camp, " Dud said. "Then we'll carry'em back to the ranch to-morrow. The Slash Lazy D is needin' meat. "

Harshaw had given orders that they were to spend the night at Eleven Milecamp. The place was a deserted log cabin built by a trapper. Supplieswere kept there for the use of Slash Lazy D riders. Usually some of themwere there at least two or three nights a week. Often punchers from otheroutfits put up at the shack. Range favors of this sort were taken as amatter of course. If the cabin was empty the visiting cowboy helpedhimself to food, fire, and shelter. It was expected of him that he wouldcut a fresh supply of fuel to take the place of that he had used. 

It was getting on toward dusk when they reached Eleven Mile. Bob made afire in the tin stove while Dud took care of the horses. He found flourand lard[2] hanging in pails from the rafters. Coffee was in a tin underthe bunk. 

Soon Dud joined him. They made their supper of venison, biscuits, andcoffee. Hollister had just lit a pipe and stretched himself on the bedwhen the door opened and sixteen Ute bucks filed gravely in. 

Colorow was the spokesman. "Hungry! Heap hungry!" he announced. 

Hollister rolled out of the bunk promptly. "Here's where we go into thebarbecue business an' the Slash ranch loses them elk, " he told Bob undercover of replenishing the fire in the stove. "An' I can name two ladswho'll be lucky if they don't lose their scalps. These birds have beendrinkin'. "

It took no wiseacre to divine the condition of the Indians. Their whiskeybreaths polluted the air of the cabin. Some of them swayed as they stoodor clutched at one another for support. Fortunately they were for themoment in a cheerful rather than a murderous frame of mind. They chantedwhat was gibberish to the two whites while the latter made theirpreparations swiftly. Dud took charge of affairs. He noticed that hiscompanion was white to the lips. 

"I'll knock together a batch of biscuits while you fry the steaks. Braceup, kid. Throw out yore chest. We better play we're drunk too, " he saidin a murmur that reached only Bob. 

While Bob sliced the steaks from the elk hanging from pegs fastened inthe mud mortar between the logs of the wall, Dud was busy whipping up abatch of biscuits. The Indians, packed tight as sardines in the room, crowded close to see how it was done. Hollister had two big frying-panson the stove with lard heating in them. He slapped the dough in, spattering boiling grease right and left. One pockmarked brave gave ananguished howl of pain. A stream of sizzling lard had spurted into hisface. 

The other Utes roared with glee. The aboriginal sense of humor may not behighly developed, but it is easily aroused. The friends of the outragedbrave stamped up and down the dirt floor in spasms of mirth. They clappedhim on the back and jabbered ironic inquiries as to his well-being. Forthe moment, at least, Dud was as popular as a funny clown in a sawdustring. 

Colorow and his companions were fed. The stove roared. The frying-panswere kept full of meat and biscuits. The two white men discarded coats, vests, and almost their shirts. Sweat poured down their faces. They stoodover the red-hot cook stove, hour after hour, while the Utes gorged. Thesteaks of the elk, the hind quarters, the fore quarters, all vanishedinto the sixteen distended stomachs. Still the Indians ate, voraciously, wolfishly, as though they could never get enough. It was not a meal butan endurance contest. 

Occasionally some wag would push forward the pockmarked brave and demandof Dud that he baptize him again, and always the puncher made motions ofgoing through the performance a second time. The joke never staled. Italways got a hand, no matter how often it was repeated. At each encorethe Utes stamped their flatfooted way round the room in a kind ofimpromptu and mirthful dance. The baptismal jest never ceased to be ascream. 

Dud grinned at Dillon. "These wooden heads are so fond of chestnuts I'mfigurin' on springin' on them the old one about why a hen crosses theroad. Bet it would go big. If they got the point. But I don't reckon theywould unless I had a hen here to show 'em. "

The feast ended only when the supplies gave out. Two and a half sacks offlour disappeared. About fifteen pounds of potatoes went into the pot andfrom it into the openings of copper-colored faces. Nothing was left ofthe elk but the bones. 

"The party's mighty nigh over, " Dud murmured. "Wonder what our guests aimto do now. "

"Can't we feed 'em anything more?" asked Bob anxiously. 

"Not unless we finish cookin' the pockmarked gent for 'em. I'm kindahopin' old Colorow will have sabe enough not to wear his welcome out. It'd make a ten-strike with me if he'd say 'Much obliged' an' hit thetrail. "

Bob had not the heart to jest about the subject, and his attempt to backup his companion's drunken playacting was a sad travesty. He did not knowmuch about Indians anyhow, and he was sick through and through withapprehension. Would they finish by scalping their hosts, as Dud hadsuggested early in the evening?

It was close to midnight when the clown of Colorow's party invented a newand rib-tickling joke. Bob was stooping over the stove dishing up thelast remnants of the potatoes when this buck slipped up behind with thecarving-knife and gathered into his fist the boy's flaming topknot. Helet out a horrifying yell and brandished the knife. 

In a panic of terror Bob collapsed to the floor. There was a moment whenthe slapstick comedy grazed red tragedy. The pitiable condition of theboy startled the Ute, who still clutched his hair. An embryonic idea wasfinding birth in the drunken brain. In another moment it would havedeveloped into a well-defined lust to kill. 

With one sweeping gesture Dud lifted a frying-pan from the red-hot stoveand clapped it against the rump of the jester. The redskin's head hit theroof. His shriek of agony could have been heard half a mile. He clappedhands to the afflicted part and did a humped-up dance of woe. Thecarving-knife lay forgotten on the floor. It was quite certain that hewould take no pleasure in sitting down for some few days. 

Again a series of spasms of turbulent mirth seized upon his friends. Theydoubled up with glee. They wept tears of joy. They howled down hisanguish with approving acclaim while they did a double hop around him asa vent to their enthusiasm. The biter had been bit. The joke had beenturned against the joker, and in the most primitive and direct way. Thiswas the most humorous event in the history of the Rio Blanco Utes. It wasdestined to become the stock tribal joke. 

Dud, now tremendously popular, joined in the dance. As he shuffled pastBob he growled an order at him. 

"Get up on yore hind laigs an' dance. I got these guys going my way. Hopto it!"

Bob danced, at first feebly and with a heart of water. He need not haveworried. If Dud had asked to be made a blood member of the tribe he wouldhave been elected by fourteen out of the sixteen votes present. 

The first faint streaks of day were in the sky when the Utes mountedtheir ponies and vanished over the hill. From the door Dud watched themgo. It had been a strenuous night, and he was glad it was over. But hewouldn't have missed it for a thousand dollars. He would not haveadmitted it. Nevertheless he was immensely proud of himself in the rôleof court jester. 

Bob sat down on the bunk. He was a limp rag of humanity. In the reactionfrom fear he was inclined to be hysterical. 

"You saved my life--when--when that fellow--" He stopped, gulping down alump in the throat. 

The man leaning against the door-jamb stretched his arms and his mouth ina relaxing yawn. "Say, fellow, I wasn't worryin' none about yore life. Iwas plumb anxious for a moment about Dud Hollister's. If old Colorow'sgang had begun on you they certainly wouldn't 'a' quit without takin' mytopknot for a souvenir of an evenin' when a pleasant time was had byall. " He yawned a second time. "What say? Let's hit the hay. I don't aimfor to do no ridin' this mornin'. "

A faint sniffling sound came from the bunk. 

Dud turned. "What's ailin' you now?" he wanted to know. 

Bob's face was buried in his hands. The slender body of the boy wasshaken with sobs. 

"I--I--"

"Cut out the weeps, Miss Roberta, " snapped Hollister. "What in Mexico 'seatin' you anyhow?"

"I--I've had a horrible night. "

"Don't I know it? Do you reckon it was a picnic for me?"

"You--laughed an' cut up. "

"Some one had to throw a bluff. If they'd guessed we were scared stiffthem b'iled Utes sure enough would have massacreed us. You got to learnto keep yore grin workin', fellow. "

"I know, but--" Bob stopped. Dry sobs were still shaking him. 

"Quit that, " Dud commanded. "I'll be darned if I'll stand for it. Youshut off the waterworks or I'll whale you proper. "

He walked out to look at the horses. It had suddenly occurred to him thatperhaps their guests might have found and taken them. The broncos werestill grazing in the draw where he had left them the previous night. 

When Dud returned to the cabin young Dillon had recovered his composure. He lay on the bunk, face to the wall, and pretended to be asleep. 

-----

 [2] The lard in the White River country was all made in those days of bear grease and deer tallow mixed. 

CHAPTER XX

"THE BIGGER THE HAT THE SMALLER THE HERD"

Combing Crooked Wash that afternoon Bob rode with a heavy and despondentheart. It was with him while he and Dud jogged back to the ranch in thedarkness. He had failed again. Another man had trodden down the fears towhich he had afterward lightly confessed and had carried off thesituation with a high hand. His admiration put Hollister on a pedestal. How had the blond puncher contrived to summon that reserve of audacitywhich had so captivated the Utes? Why was it that of two men one hadstamina to go through regardless of the strain while another went topieces and made a spectacle of himself?

Bob noticed that both in his report to Harshaw and later in the story hetold at the Slash Lazy D bunkhouse, Dud shielded him completely. He gavenot even a hint that Dillon had weakened under pressure. The boy wasgrateful beyond words, even while he was ashamed that he neededprotection. 

At the bunkhouse Dud's story was a great success. He had a knack ofdrawling out his climaxes with humorous effect. 

"An' when I laid that red-hot skillet on the nearest area ofRumpty-Tumpty's geography he ce'tainly went up into the roof like he'dbeen fired out of a rocket. When he lit--gentlemen, when he lit he wasthe most restless Ute in western Colorado. He milled around the corralconsiderable. I got a kinda notion he'd sorta soured on the funny-boybusiness. Anyhow, he didn't cotton to my style o' humor. Different withold Colorow an' the others. They liked to 'a' hollered their fool haidsoff at the gent I'd put the new Slash Lazy D brand on. Then they did oneo' them 'Wow-wow-wow' dances round Rumpty-Tumpty, who was still smokin'like he'd set fire to the cabin. "

Cowpunchers are a paradox. They have the wisdom of the ages, yet they areonly grown-up children. Now they filled the night with mirth. Hawks laydown on his bunk and kicked his feet into the air joyfully. Reeves fellupon Dud and beat him with profane gayety. Big Bill waltzed him over thefloor, regardless of his good-humored protest. 

"Tell us some more, Dud, " demanded the cook. "Did yore friend Rumpty puthisse'f out by sittin' in a snowbank?"

"I don't rightly recollect. Me 'n' Bob here was elected to lead the grandmarch an' we had to leave Rumpty-Tumpty be his own fire department. But Idid notice how tender he lowered himself to the back of his hawse whenthey lit out in the mawnin'. "

Bob saw that Hollister made the whole affair one huge joke. He did notmention that there had been any chance of a tragic termination to theadventure. Nor did the other punchers refer to that, though they knew thestrained relations between the whites and the Utes. Riding for a dogieoutfit was a hard life, but one could always get a laugh out of itsomehow. The philosophy of the range is to grin and bear it. 

A few days later Bob rode into town with a pack-horse at heel. He was tobring back some supplies for the ranch. Harshaw had chosen him to gobecause he wanted to buy some things for himself. These would be chargedagainst the Slash Lazy D account at Platt & Fortner's store. Bob wouldsettle for them with the boss when his pay-check came due. 

It was a warm sunny day with a touch of summer still in the air. The bluestem and the bunch grass were dry. Sage and greasewood had taken on thebare look of winter. But the pines were still green and the birdssinging. 

It was an ordeal for Bob to face Bear Cat. June was better, he had heard. But it was not his fault she had not died of the experience endured. Hecould expect no friendliness in the town. The best he could hope for wasthat it would let him alone. 

He went straight to the office of Blister Haines. The justice took hisfat legs down from the desk and waved him to a chair. 

"How're cases?" he asked. 

Bob told his story without sparing himself. 

Blister listened and made no comment to the end. 

"You're takin' that Ute business too s-serious, " he said. "Gettin's-scalped 's no picnic. You're entitled to feel some weak at the knees. I've heard from Dud. He says you stood up fine. "

"He told you--?"

"N-no particulars. T-trouble with you is you've got too much imagination. From yore story I judge you weakened when the danger was over. You gottalearn to keep up that red haid like I said. When you're scared or all in, stretch yore grin another inch. You don't need to w-worry. You're doin'all right. "

Bob shook his head. Blister's view encouraged him, though he could notagree with it. 

"Keep yore eye on that Dud Hollister hombre, " the justice went on. "He'sone sure enough go-getter. "

"Yes, " agreed Bob. "He's there every jump of the road. An' he didn't tellon me either. "

"You can tie to Dud, " agreed Blister. "Here's the point, son. When youg-get that sinkin' feelin' in yore tummy it's notice for you to get up onyore hind laigs an' howl. Be a wolf for a change. "

"But I can't. I seem to--to wilt all up. "

"Son, you know the answer already. T-throw back yore haid an' rememberyou got dominion. "

Dillon shifted the conversation, embarrassed eyes on the floor. "How's--Miss Tolliver?"

"G-gettin' well fast. On the porch yesterday. Everybody in town stoppedto say how g-glad they was to see her out. Been havin' the time of herlife, June has. Mollie's always right good to sick folks, but shec-ce'tainly makes a pet of June. "

"I'm glad. She's through with me, o' course, but I hope her friends lookout for that Jake Houck. "

"You don't need to worry about him. He's learnt to keep hands off. "

Bob was not quite satisfied to let the matter rest there. In spite of thefact that he had made an outcast of himself he wanted to reinstatehimself with June. 

Hesitantly Bob approached the subject. "Maybe I'd better send her wordI'm glad she come through all right. "

Blister's eyes were stony. "Maybe you'd better not. What claim you got tobe remembered by that li'l' girl? You're outa her life, boy. "

Bob winced. The harsh truth wounded his sensitive nature. She had beenhis friend once. It hurt him to lose her wholly and completely. 

He rose. "Well, I gotta go an' get some goods for the ranch, Mr. Haines, "he said. 

"I reckon you'd like to s-slide back easy an' have folks forget, " Blistersaid. "Natural enough. But it won't be thataway. You'll have to f-fightlike a bulldog to travel back along that trail to a good name. You ain'treally begun yet. "

"See you again next time I get to town, " Bob said. 

He was sorry he had raised the point with Haines of a message to June. That the justice should reject the idea so promptly and vigorously hurthis pride and self-esteem. 

At Platt & Fortner's he invested in a pair of spurs, a cheap saddle, anda bridle. The cowboy is vain of his equipment. He would spend in thosedays forty dollars for a saddle, ten for boots, twenty-five for a bridleand silver plated bit, fifteen for spurs, and ten or twelve for a hat. Heowned his own horse and blankets, sometimes also a pack-animal. Thesewere used to carry him from one job to another. He usually rode the ranchbroncos on the range. 

But even if he had been able to afford it Bob would not have boughtexpensive articles. He did not make any claim about his ability to punchcattle, and he knew instinctively that real riders would resent anyattempt on his part to swagger as they did. A remark dropped by Blistercame to mind. 

"The b-bigger the hat the smaller the herd, son. Do all yore b-braggin'with yore actions. "

It is often a characteristic of weakness that it clings to strength. Bobwould have given much for the respect and friendship of these clear-eyed, weather-beaten men. To know that he had forfeited these cut deep into hissoul. The clerk that waited on him at the store joked gayly with twocowboys lounging on the counter, but he was very distantly polite toDillon. The citizens he met on the street looked at him with chill eyes. A group of schoolboys whispered and pointed toward him. 

Bob had walked out from Haines's office in a huff, but as he rode back tothe ranch he recognized the justice of his fat friend's decision. He hadforfeited the right to take any interest in June Tolliver. His nature wasto look always for the easiest way. He never wanted trouble with anybody. Essentially he was peace-loving even to the point of being spiritless. Totry to slip back into people's good will by means of the less robustvirtues would be just like him. 

Probably Blister was right when he had told him to be a wolf. For him, anything was better than to be a sheep. 

He clamped his teeth. He would show the Rio Blanco country whether he hada chicken heart. He would beat back somehow so that they would have torespect him whether they wanted to or not. If he made up his mind to ithe could be just as game as Dud Hollister. 

He would go through or he would die trying. 

CHAPTER XXI

JUNE DISCOVERS A NEW WORLD

Blister had not overstated the case to Bob when he told him that June hadbeen having the time of her life getting well. She had been a lonelylittle thing, of small importance in a country very busy on its ownaffairs. The sense of inferiority had oppressed her, due both to thesecret of her father's past and the isolation in which she dwelt. Thishad stimulated a sullen resentment and a shy pride which held evenfriendly souls at arm's length. 

Now she was being petted by everybody with whom she came into contact. She was pathetically grateful, and the big-hearted men and women of thefrontier were worthy of the feeling. They gave her eager good will andgenerous sympathy. Into her room came soups and custards made by the bestcooks on the river. When she was well enough to see visitors the mothersof Bear Cat came in person. 

Through Melancthon Browning the landlady of the hotel shrewdly enlistedthe aid of the most influential women in the community. June neededclothes. She had not a garment that was not worn out and ragged. ButMollie recognized the fact that more than these she was in need of themoral support of the settlers' wives. Mrs. Larson could give her work anda home, but she could not give her that bulwark of her sex, respectability. Mollie was an exception to an established rule. She wasliked and respected by other women in spite of her peculiarities. Butthis would not be true of her protégée unless the girl was abovecriticism. June must never step inside the bar or the gambling-room. Shemust find friends among the other girls of the town and take part intheir social activities. 

Wherefore Mollie, by timely suggestion, put it into the mind of thepreacher to propose a sewing-bee to his congregation. Tolliver, undersupervision, bought the goods and the women sewed. They madeunderclothes, petticoats, nightgowns, and dresses. They selected from thestock of Platt & Fortner shoes, stockings, and a hat, charging them tothe account of Pete. 

It was on her sixteenth birthday that June was taken into an adjoiningroom and saw all these treasures laid upon the bed. She did not at firstunderstand that the two pretty dresses and all the comfortable, well-madeclothes were for her. When this was made clear to her the tears brimmedto the long-lashed eyes. The starved little Cinderella was greatlytouched. She turned to Mollie and buried her twitching face in a friendlybosom. 

"Now--now--now, " Mollie reproved gently, stroking the dark crisp hair. "This is no way to act, dearie, an' all the ladies so kind to you. Youwant to thank 'em, don't you?"

"Yes, but--but--I--I--"

The smothered voice was tearful. 

Mollie smiled at the committee. "I reckon she wants me to tell you forher that she's plumb outa words to let you know how good she thinksyou-all are. "

The black head nodded vigorously. "You're the _best_ folks--"

Mrs. Platt, a large and comfortable mother of seven, answered placidly. "I expect you'll find, dearie, that most folks are good when you get onthe right side of them. Now you try on them clothes an' see if they fit. We tried 'em on my Mary. She's about your size. You're comin' down to ourhouse to supper to-night. I want you should get acquainted with thegirls. "

June looked at Mollie, who nodded smilingly. 

"I'll be terrible glad to come, ma'am, " June said. 

"Then that's settled. They're nice girls, if I do say it myself that amtheir mother. "

So June took her first timid steps into the social life of the frontiertown. Shyly she made friends, and with them went to church, to SundaySchool, and to picnics. 

It had been definitely decided that she was to wait on table at the hotelrestaurant and not return with her father to Piceance Creek. The plan hadoriginated with Mollie, but Tolliver had acquiesced in it eagerly. IfJune went home with him Houck might reappear on the horizon, but if shestayed at Bear Cat, buttressed by the support of the town, the man fromBrown's Park would not dare to urge his claim again. 

June waited on table at the hotel, but this did not keep her from thedances that were held in the old army hospital building. There were noclass distinctions in Bear Cat then. There are not many now. No pauperslived in the county. This still holds good. Except the owners of the bigcattle companies there were no men of wealth. A man was not judged bywhat he had or by the kind of work he was doing. His neighbors lookedthrough externals to see what he was, stripped of all adventitiouscircumstance. On that basis solely he was taken into fellowship or castout from it. 

The girl from Piceance Creek worked hard and was content, even if notquite happy. If she ever thought of the boy she had married, no referenceto him ever crossed her lips. She was known simply as June by the town. Strangers called her Miss Tolliver. 

There was about her a quiet self-possession that discouraged familiarityon the part of ambitious and amorous cowboys. Her history, with itsthread of tragedy running through the warp and woof of it, set her apartfrom other girls of her age. Still almost a child in years, she had beencaught in the cross-currents of life and beaten by its cold waves. Partof the heritage of youth--its gay and adventurous longing forexperience--had been filched from her before she was old enough to knowits value. In time she would perhaps recover her self-esteem, but shewould never know in its fullness that divine right of American maidenhoodto rule its environment and make demands of it. 

CHAPTER XXII

AN ALTERNATIVE PROPOSED AND DECLINED

The prediction made by Blister Haines that some overbearing puncher wouldbully Bob because of his reputation as safe game did not long waitfulfillment. A new rider joined the Slash Lazy D outfit. He had beenworking for the K Bar T for a couple of months. Prior to that time he hadnot been seen on the river. The rumor was that he hailed from Wyoming. Toask for more specific information would not have been good form. Morethan one or two cowboys in the Rio Blanco country had left their formerhomes just ahead of a sheriff. 

Bandy Walker knew how to rope and ride. That was the main considerationof Harshaw when he hired him. He guessed the fellow's name was not Walkerany more than it was Bandy. One cognomen had been given him because hewas so bow-legged; the other he had no doubt taken for purposes ofnon-identification. 

Bandy was short, heavy-set, and muscular. At a glance one would havepicked him out as dangerous. The expression on the face was sulky. Theeyes were expressionless as jade. 

He was given the bunk next Dillon and before twenty-four hours were pasthe had begun to bully him. It began with a surly request behind which Bobsensed a command. 

"Fellow, get my bridle, won't you? I left it with my saddle somewheresclose to the chuck house. Got to fix it to-night. "

Dillon had taken off his high-heeled boots because they were hurting hisfeet. He observed that Walker, lying fully dressed on the blankets, wasstill wearing his. 

"Why, sure, " Bob said amiably, and he tugged on his boots. 

Presently he returned with the bridle and handed it to Bandy. 

That was the beginning of it. Before the week was out Bob was the man'sflunkey, the butt of his ill-natured jokes, the helpless victim of hisbad temper. Inside, he writhed. Another failure was being scored againsthim. But what could he do? This Bandy Walker was a gunman and arough-and-tumble fighter. He boasted of it. Bob would be a child in hishands. 

The other punchers watched the affair, drew deductions, but made noaudible comments. The law of the outdoors is that every man must play hisown hand. The Slash Lazy D resented Bandy. He was ugly in face, voice, and manner. His speech was offensive. He managed to convey insult by thecurl of his lip. Yet he was cunning enough to keep within the bounds ofsafety. Nobody wanted to pick a quarrel with him, for it might turn outto be a serious business. The fellow looked rancorous. Moreover, theranch riders had no use for Dillon. It would be a relief if Bandy drovehim away. They felt disgraced when cowboys from the Circle Bar or theQuarter Circle Triangle inquired for the health of their new rider MissRoberta. 

Dud and Bob were riding Milk Creek one day about a week after Walker'sarrival. They unsaddled at noon and lay down to loaf on a sunny bankclose to the water's edge. 

Hollister had been silent all morning, contrary to his usual custom. Hisgood spirits usually radiated gayety. 

"What's the matter? Ain't you feelin' good?" Bob asked. 

"No, I ain't. "

"Stomach?"

"Heart, " returned Dud gloomily. 

Bob sat up. "Why, I never heard there was anything the matter with yoreheart. If there is, you hadn't ought to be ridin' these crazy colts youdo. "

"Nothin' the matter with _my_ heart. It's yore's I'm worryin' about. "

Bob flushed, but said nothing. 

"I'm wonderin' how long you're aimin' to let that bully puss fellowWalker run over you. "

"What can I do?" Bob did not look at his companion. He kept his eyes onthe ground, where he was tracing figures with a broken stick. 

"Well, there's seve-re-al things you could do. You might work theplug-ugly over. It couldn't hurt his looks none, an' it might improve'em. That's one suggestion. I've got others where that come from. "

"He's a bad actor. I expect he'd half kill me, " Bob muttered. 

"I reckon he would, onless you beat him to it. That's not the point. Yougot to fight him or admit you're yellow. No two ways about that. "

"I can't fight. I never did, " groaned Dillon. 

"Then how do you know you can't? If you can't, take yore lickin'. But yoube on top of him every minute of the time whilst you're gettin' it. Go toit like a wild cat. Pretty soon something'll drop, an' maybe it won't beyou. "

"I--can't. "

Dud's blue eyes grew steely. "You can't, eh? Listen, fellow. I promisedBlister to make a man outa you if I could. I aim to do it. You lick Bandygood to-night or I'll whale you to-morrow. That ain't all either. Everytime you let him run on you I'll beat you up next day soon as I get youalone. "

Bob looked at him, startled. "You wouldn't do that, Dud?"

"Wouldn't I? Don't you bet I wouldn't. I'm makin' that promise rightnow. "

"I thought you were--my friend, " Bob faltered. 

"Don't you think it. I'm particular who I call by that name. I ain't afriend of any man without sand in his gizzard. But I done give my word toOld Blister an' I gotta come through. It'll hurt you more'n it will me, anyhow. "

"I'll quit an' leave this part of the country, " Bob said wretchedly. 

"I'm not stoppin' you, but you won't go till I've whopped you once good. Will you take it now?"

"Let's talk it over reasonable, " Bob pleaded. 

Dud looked disgusted. "I never see such a fellow for thinkin' he couldchin himself outa trouble. Nothin' doing. "

"You've got no right to interfere in my affairs. It's not yore business, "the worried victim of circumstances declared with an attempt at dignity. 

"Say, don't I know it? If I hadn't promised Blister--But what's the use?I done said I would, an' I got to go through. "

"I'll let you off yore promise. "

Dud shook his head. "Wish you could, but you can't. It was to Blister Igive my word. No, sir. You gotta take or give a lickin', looks like. Either me or Bandy, I ain't particular which. "

"You lay off me, Dud Hollister. "

"Honest, I hope you'll fix it so's I can. Well, you got till to-morrow todecide. Don't forget. Me or Bandy one. You take yore choice. "

"I won't fight you. "

"Then it's Bandy. Suits me fine. Say, Bob, I ain't so darned sure thatfellow'll be there so big when it comes to a show-down. He looks to metricky rather than game. Take him by surprise. Then crawl his humpsudden. With which few well-chosen words I close. Yores sincerely, Well-wisher, as these guys sign themselves when they write to thepapers. "

All through the rest of the day Bob was depressed. He felt as cheerful asa man about to be hanged. Why couldn't they let him alone? He never inhis life went looking for trouble and it seemed to hunt him out if he wasanywhere in reach. It was not fair. What claim had Dud to mix into hisdifficulties with Bandy? Absolutely none. 

He made up his mind to slip away in the night, ride to Glenwood, and takethe train for Denver. There a fellow could live in peace. 

CHAPTER XXIII

BOB CRAWLS HIS HUMP SUDDEN

There was a game of stud after supper in the bunkhouse. Bob lay on hisbed, a prey to wretched dread. He had made up his mind to have it outwith Bandy, but his heart was pumping water instead of blood. When helooked at the squat puncher, thick-necked and leather-faced, an uglysneer on his lips, the courage died out of his breast. 

Dud was sitting with his back to the wall. His attention was ostensiblyon the game, but Bob knew he was waiting for developments. 

Bandy sat next Dud. "Raise you once, " he snarled. His card-playing waslike everything else he did, offensive by reason of the spirit back ofit. He was a bad loser and a worse winner. 

"And another blue, " said Hollister easily when it came his turn again. "Got to treat an ace in the hole with respect. "

The other two players dropped out, leaving only Bandy to contest the potwith Dud. 

"Once more, " retorted the bow-legged puncher, shoving in chips. 

"And again. "

"Hmp! Claim an ace in the hole, do you? Well, I'll jes' give it one moreli'l' kick. "

Hollister had showing a deuce of hearts, a trey of clubs, an ace ofspades, and a four of hearts. He might have a five in the hole or an ace. Bandy had a pair of jacks in sight. 

Dud called. 

"You see it, " growled Bandy. "One pair. "

His opponent flipped over an ace of diamonds. "One pair here--aces. "

"Knew it all the time. Yore play gave it away, " jeered Bandy with obviousill-temper. 

"I reckon that's why you kept raisin', " Dud suggested, raking in thepot. 

"All I needed was to hook a jack or another pair to beat you. "

"If I didn't catch another ace or a small pair. "

The game was breaking up. 

"Hell! I was playin' poker before you could navigate, young fellow, "Bandy boasted. He had lost four dollars and was annoyed. 

"An' you're still an optimist about hookin' another pair when you need'em. " Dud was counting his winnings placidly. "Six-fifty--seven--sevenand two bits. Wish I had yore confidence in the music of the spearsworkin' out so harmonious. "

This last was a reference to a book left at the ranch recently by theReverend Melancthon Browning, the title of which was, "The Music of theSpheres. " Its philosophy was that every man makes his own world by theway he thinks about it. 

Bandy jingled back to his bunk. He unstrapped his spurs, hooked one footbehind the knee of the other leg, and tried to work the wet boot off. Theslippery leather stuck. 

He called to Bob. "Come here, fellow, an' yank this boot off for me. "

Dillon did not move. His heart stood still, then began to race. A chokingfilled his throat. The hour was striking for him. It was to be now ornever. 

The bow-legged puncher slewed his head. "I'm talkin' to you. "

Slowly, reluctantly, Bob rose. He did not want to move. Somethingstronger than his will lifted him out of the bed and dragged him acrossthe floor. He knew his hands were trembling. 

Malignant triumph rode in Bandy's eye. It was always safe to bully thistimid youth. Dud Hollister had a "No Trespass" sign displayed in hisquiet, cool manner. Very well. He would take it out of his riding mate. That was one way of getting at him. 

"What's ailin' you? Git a move on. You act like you'd like to tell me togo take a walk. I'll bet you would, too, if you wasn't such a rabbitheart. "

Bob stooped and picked up the dirty boot. He zigzagged it from the foot. As he straightened again his eyes met those of Dud. He felt a roaring inthe temples. 

"O' course any one that'd let another fellow take his wife from him--an'him not married more'n an hour or two--"

The young fellow did not hear the end of the cruel gibe. The sound ofrushing waters filled his ears. He pulled off the second boot. 

Again his gaze met that of Hollister. He remembered Dud's words. "Crawlhis hump sudden. Go to it like a wild cat. " The trouble was he couldn't. His muscles would not obey the flaccid will. 

The flood of waters died down. The roaring ceased. The puncher's wordscame to him clear. 

". .. Not but what she was likely glad enough to go with Jake. She was outwith him four-five hours. Where was they, I ask? What was they doing? Youcan't tell me she couldn't 'a' got away sooner if she'd wanted to sodarned bad. No, sir, I'm no chicken right out of a shell. When it comesto a woman I say, Where's the man?"

A surge of anger welled up in Dillon and overflowed. He forgot about Dudand his threats. He forgot about his trepidation. This hound was talkingof June, lying about her out of his foul throat. 

One of the boots was still in his hand. He swung it round and brought theheel hard against the fellow's mouth. The blood gushed from the crushedlips. Bob dropped the boot and jolted his left to the cheek. He followedwith a smashing right to the eye. 

Taken at disadvantage, Bandy tried to struggle to his feet. He ran intoone straight from the shoulder that caught the bridge of his nose andflung him back upon the bunk. 

His hand reached under the pillow. Bob guessed what was there and droppedhard with both knees on his stomach. 

The breath went out of Bandy suddenly. He lay still for a moment. When hebegan to struggle again he had forgotten the revolver under the pillow. With a sweeping gesture Bob brushed pillow and gun to the floor. 

The man underneath twisted his red, wrinkled neck and bit Bob's forearmsavagely. The boy's fingers closed like a vice on the hairy throat andtightened. His other fist beat a merciless tattoo on the bruised andbleeding face. 

"Take him off!" Bandy presently gasped. 

Dud appointed himself referee. With difficulty he unloosed the fingersembedded in the flesh of the throat. 

"Had enough, Bandy? You licked?" he asked. 

"Take him off, I tell you!" the man managed to scream. 

"Not unless you're whipped. How about it?"

"'Nough, " the bully groaned. 

Bob observed that Hawks had taken charge of the revolver. He releasedWalker. 

The bow-legged puncher sat at the side of the bed and coughed. The bloodwas streaming from a face bruised and cut in a dozen places. 

"He--he--jumped me--when I wasn't lookin', " the cowboy spat out, a wordat a time. 

"Don't pull an alibi, Bandy. You had it comin', " Dud said with a grin. Hewas more pleased than he could tell. 

Dillon felt as though something not himself had taken control of him. Hewas in a cold fury, ready to fight again at the drop of a hat. 

"He said she--she--" The sentence broke, but Bob rushed into another. "He's got to take it back or I'll kill him. "

"Only the first round ended, looks like, Bandy, " Dud said genially. "Youbetter be lookin' this time when he comes at you, or he'll sure eat youalive. "

"I'm not lookin' for no fight, " Bandy said sulkily, dabbing at his facewith the bandanna round his neck. 

"I'll bet you ain't--not with a catamount like Miss Roberta here, " TomReeves said, chuckling with delight. 

One idea still obsessed Bob's consciousness. "What he said aboutJune--I'll not let him get away with it. He's got to tell you-all he waslyin'. "

"You hear yore boss speak, Bandy, " drawled Dud. "How about it? Do we getto see you massacreed again? Or do you stand up an' admit you're a dirtyliar for talkin' thataway?"

Bandy Walker looked round on a circle of faces all unfriendly to him. Hehad broken the code, and he knew it. In the outdoor West a man does notslander a good woman without the chance of having to pay for it. Thepuncher had let his bad bullying temper run away with him. He had done itbecause he had supposed Dillon harmless, to vent on him the spleen hecould not safely empty upon Dud Hollister's blond head. 

If Bob had been alone the bow-legged man might have taken achance--though it is doubtful whether he would have invited thatwhirlwind attack again, unless he had had a revolver close at hand--buthe knew public sentiment was wholly against him. There was nothing to dobut to swallow his words. 

That he did this in the most ungracious way possible was like him. "Sinceyou're runnin' a Sunday School outfit I'll pack my roll an' move onto-morrow to where there's some he-men, " he sneered. "I never met thisgirl, so I don't know a thing about her. All I did was to make a generalremark about women. Which same I know to be true. But since you're abunch of sky pilots at the Slash Lazy D, I'll withdraw anything thathurts yore tender feelin's. "

"Are you takin' back what you said--about--about her?" Bob demandedharshly. 

Bandy's smouldering, sullen eyes slid round. "I'm takin' it back. Didn'tyou hear me say I don' know a thing about her? I know Houck, though. So Ijudged--" He spat a loose tooth out on the floor venomously. It wouldperhaps not be wise to put into words what he had deduced from hisknowledge of Jake Houck. 

"The incident is now clo-o-sed if Miss Roberta is satisfied, " Dudannounced to the public at large. 

His riding mate looked at Hollister. "Don't call me that, " he said. 

For a moment Dud was puzzled. "Don't call you what?"

"What you just called me. "

Dud broke into a grin of delight. He wondered if it would not be a goodidea to make Bob give him a licking, too. But he decided to let goodenough alone. He judged that Blister would be satisfied without any moregore. Anyhow, Bob might weaken and spoil it. 

"Boy, I'll never call you Miss--what I called you--long as I liveexceptin' when I'm meanin' to compliment you special. " Dud slapped himhard between the shoulder blades. "You're a young cyclone, but you can'tget a chance to muss Dud Hollister up to-night. You work too rapid. Doggone my hide, if I ever did see a faster or a better piece o' work. How about it, Tom?"

Reeves, too, pounded Dillon in token of friendship. If Bob had not wipedthe slate clean he had made a start in that direction. 

"You're some scrapper when you get started. Bandy looks like he's beenthrough a railroad wreck, " he said. 

Bandy was by this time at the wash-basin repairing damages. "Tell you hejumped me when I wasn't lookin', " he growled sulkily. "Fine business. You-all stood by an' watched him do it. "

"After you'd deviled him for a week, " amended Big Bill. "Mebbe in thatoutfit of he-men you're expectin' to hit the trail for to-morrow they'llwrop you up in cotton an' not let a hundred-an'-thirty-pound giant jumpyou. "

"I ain't askin' it of 'em, " Bandy retorted. "I can look out for myselfan' then some. As for this sprout who thinks he's so gosh-mighty, I'lljus' say one thing. Some o' these days I'll settle with him proper. "

He turned as he spoke. The look on his battered face was venomous. 

CHAPTER XXIV

IN THE SADDLE

White winter covered the sage hills and gave the country a bleak anddesolate look. The Slash Lazy D riders wrapped up and went out over thewind-swept mesas to look after the cattle cowering in draws or driftingwith the storm. When Bob could sleep snugly in the bunkhouse he waslucky. There were nights when he shivered over a pine-knot fire in theshelter of a cutbank with the temperature fifteen degrees below zero. 

At this work he won the respect of his fellows. He could set his teethand endure discomfort with any of them. It was at sharp danger crisesthat he had always quailed. He never shirked work or hardship, and henever lied to make the way easier or more comfortable. Harshaw watchedhim with increasing approval. In Dillon he found all but one of theessential virtues of the cowboy--good humor, fidelity, truth, tenacity, and industry. If he lacked courage in the face of peril the reason was nodoubt a constitutional one. 

A heavy storm in February tried the riders to capacity. They were in thesaddle day and night. For weeks they appeared at the ranch only at oddintervals, haggard, unshaven, hungry as wolves. They ate, saddled freshmounts, and went out into the drifts again tireless and indomitable. 

Except for such food as they could carry in a sack they lived on elktrapped in the deep snow. The White River country was one of the two orthree best big game districts in the United States. [3] The early settlerscould get a deer whenever they wanted one. Many were shot from the doorsof their cabins. 

While Harshaw, Dud, and Bob were working Wolf Creek another heavy snowfell. A high wind swept the white blanket into deep drifts. All day theriders ploughed through these to rescue gaunt and hungry cattle. Nightcaught them far from the cabin where they had been staying. 

They held a consultation. It was bitter weather, the wind still blowing. 

"Have to camp, looks like, " Harshaw said. 

"We'll have a mighty tough night without grub and blankets, " Dud saiddoubtfully. "She's gettin' colder every minute. "

"There's a sheltered draw below here. We'll get a good fire goinganyhow. "

In the gulch they found a band of elk. 

"Here's our supper an' our beds, " Dud said. 

They killed three. 

While Bob gathered and chopped up a down and dead tree the others skinnedthe game. There was dry wood in Harshaw's saddle-bags with which to starta fire. Soon Dillon had a blaze going which became a crackling, roaringfurnace. They ate a supper of broiled venison without trimmings. 

"Might be a heap worse, " Dud said while he was smoking afterward beforethe glowing pine knots. "I'm plenty warm in front even if I'm abouttwenty below up an' down my spine. "

Presently they rolled up in the green hides and fell asleep. 

None of them slept very comfortably. The night was bitter, and they foundit impossible to keep warm. 

Bob woke first. He decided to get up and replenish with fuel the fire. Hecould not rise. The hide had frozen stiff about him. He shouted to theothers. 

They, too, were helpless in the embrace of their improvisedsleeping-bags. 

"Have to roll to the fire an' thaw out, " Harshaw suggested. 

This turned out to be a ticklish job. They had to get close enough toscorch their faces and yet not near enough to set fire to the robes. Morethan once Bob rolled over swiftly to put out a blaze in the snow. 

Dud was the first to step out of his blanket. In a minute or two he hadpeeled the hides from the others. 

An hour later they were floundering through the drifts toward the cabinon Wolf Creek. Behind each rider was strapped the carcass of an elk. 

"Reminds me of the time Blister went snow blind, " Harshaw said. "Uparound Badger Bend it was. He got lost an' wandered around for a coupladays blind as a bat. Finally old Clint Frazer's wife seen him wallowin'in the drifts an' the old man brought him in. They was outa grub an' hadto hoof it to town. Clint yoked his bull team an' had it break trail. Hean' the wife followed. But Blister he couldn't see, so he had to hang onto one o' the bulls by the tail. The boys joshed him about that quite awhile. He ce'tainly was a sight rollin' down Main Street anchored to thatcritter's tail. "

"I'll bet Blister was glad to put his foot on the rail at Dolan's, " Dudmurmured. "I'd be kinda glad to do that same my own se'f right now. "

"Blister went to bed and stayed there for a spell. He was a sick man. "Harshaw's eye caught sight of some black specks on a distant hillside. "Cattle. We'll come back after we've onloaded at the cabin. "

They did. It was long after dark before they reached shelter again. 

The riders of the Slash Lazy D were glad to see spring come, though itbrought troubles of its own. The weather turned warm and stayed so. Thesnow melted faster than the streams could take care of it. There was highwater all over the Blanco country. The swollen creeks poured down intothe overflowing river. Three punchers in the valley were drowned insideof a week, for that was before the bridges had been built. 

While the water was still high Harshaw started a trail herd to Utah. 

-----

 [3] According to old-timers the automobile is responsible for the extermination of the game supply going on so rapidly. The pioneers at certain seasons provided for their needs by killing blacktail and salting down the meat. But they were dead shots and expert hunters. The automobile tourists with high-power rifles rush into the hills during the open season and kill male and female without distinction. For every deer killed outright three or four crawl away to die later from wounds. One ranchman reports finding fifteen dead deer on one day's travel through the sage. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE RIO BLANCO PUTS IN A CLAIM

Preparations for the drive occupied several days. The cattle were roundedup and carefully worked. Many of those that had roughed through the hardwinter were still weak. Some of these would yet succumb and wouldincrease the thirty per cent of losses already counted. Only those ableto stand inspection were thrown into the trail herd. Afterward, a secondcut was made and any doubtful ones culled from the bunch. 

Word had come from Rangely that all the streams were high as far as andbeyond the Utah line. But the owner of the Slash Lazy D was undercontract to deliver and he could not wait for the water to go down. 

When the road herd had been selected and the mavericks in the round-upbranded with the Slash Lazy D or whatever other brand seemed fairconsidering the physical characteristics of the animal and the group withwhich it was ranging, Harshaw had the cattle moved up the river a coupleof miles to a valley of good grass. Here they were held while the ranchhands busied themselves with preparations for the journey. A wagon andharness were oiled, a chuck-box built, and a supply of groceries packed. Bridles and cinches were gone over carefully, ropes examined, and hobblesprepared. 

The remuda for the trail outfit was chosen by Harshaw himself. He knewhis horses as he knew the trail to Bear Cat. No galled back or lame legcould escape his keen eye. No half-tamed outlaw could slip into thecavvy. Every horse chosen was of proved stamina. Any known to be afraidof water remained at the ranch. Every rider would have to swim streams adozen times and his safety would depend upon his mount. Tails werethinned, hoofs trimmed, manes cleared of witches' bridles, and earsswabbed to free them of ticks. 

The start was made before dawn. Stars were shining by thousands when thechuck-wagon rolled down the road. The blatting of cows could be heard asthe riders moved the phantom cattle from their bedding-ground. 

The dogies were long-legged and shaggy, agile and wild as deer. They weresmall-boned animals, not fit for market until they were four-year-olds. On their gaunt frames was little meat, but they were fairly strong andvery voracious. If not driven too hard these horned jackrabbits, as somewag had dubbed them, would take on flesh rapidly. 

Harshaw chose five punchers to go with him--Dud, Big Bill, Tom Reeves, Hawks, and Bob. A light mess-wagon went with the outfit. Before noon theherd had grazed five miles down the river. 

The young grass matted the ground. Back of the valley could be seen thegreenclad mesas stretching to the foothills which hemmed in the RioBlanco. The timber and the mesquite were in leaf. Wild roses andoccasionally bluebells bloomed. The hillsides were white with theblossoms of service berries. 

In the early afternoon they reached the ford. Harshaw trailed the cattleacross in a long file. He watched the herd anxiously, for the stream wasrunning strong from the freshet. After a short, hard swim the animalsmade the landing. 

The mess-wagon rattled down to the ford as the last of the herd scrambledashore. 

"Think I'll put you at the reins, Dud, " the cattleman said. "Head thehorses upstream a little and keep 'em going. "

All the other punchers except Bob were across the river with the herd. 

Dud relieved the previous driver, gathered up reins and whip withcompetent hands, and put the horses at the river. They waded in throughthe shallows, breasted the deep water, and began to swim. Before they hadgone three yards they were in difficulties. The force of the currentcarried the light wagon downstream. The whiplash cracked around the earsof the horses, but they could not make headway. Team, wagon, and driverbegan to drift down the river. Supplies, floating from the top of theload, were scattered in all directions. 

Instantly six men became very busy. Rope loops flew out and tightenedaround the bed of the wagon. Others circled the necks of the horses. Duddived into the river to lighten the load. Harshaw, Bob, and the cook rodeinto the shallow water and salvaged escaping food, while the riders onthe other bank guided wagon and team ashore. 

Dud, dripping like a mermaid, came to land with a grin. Under one arm apasty sack of flour was tucked, under the other a smoked venison haunch. "An' I took a bath only yesterday, " he lamented. 

The food was sun-dried and the wagon repacked. 

At Dry Creek, which was now a rushing torrent, Harshaw threw the cattleinto a draw green with young grass and made camp for the night. 

"We got neighbors, " announced Big Bill, watching a thin column of smokerising from the mesa back of them. 

"Guess I'll drift over after supper, " Harshaw said. "Maybe they can giveme the latest news about high water down the river. "

Hawks had just come in from the remuda. He gave information. 

"I drifted over to their camp. An old friend, one of 'em. Gent by thename of Bandy Walker. He's found that outfit of he-men he was lookin'for. "

"Yes, " said the cattleman non-committally. 

"One's a stranger. The other's another old friend of some o' the boys. Jake Houck he calls hisself. "

Bob's heart shriveled within him. Two enemies scarcely a stone's throwaway, and probably both of them knew he was here. Had they come to settlewith him?

He dismissed this last fear. In Jake Houck's scheme of things he was notimportant enough to call for a special trip of vengeance. 

"We'll leave 'em alone, " Harshaw decided. "If any of them drop over we'llbe civil. No trouble, boys, you understand. "

But Houck's party did not show up, and before break of day the camp ofthe trail herd outfit was broken. The riders moved the herd up the creekto an open place where it could be easily crossed. From here the cattledrifted back toward the river. Dud was riding on the point, Hawks andDillon on the drag. 

In the late afternoon a gulch obstructed their path. It ran down at rightangles to the Rio Blanco. Along the edge of this Harshaw rode till hefound an easier descent. He drove the leaders into the ravine and startedthem up the other side of the trough to the mesa beyond. The cattlecrowded so close that some of them were forced down the bed of the gorgeinstead of up the opposite bank. 

Bob galloped along the edge and tried to head the animals back by firinghis revolver in front from above. In this he was not successful. Thegulch was narrow, and the pressure behind drove the foremost cattle on tothe river. 

The dogies waded in to drink. The push of the rear still impelled theones in advance to move deeper into the water. Presently the leaders wereswimming out into the stream. Those behind followed at heel. 

Dillon flung his horse down into the ravine in the headlong fashion hehad learned from months of hill riding. He cantered along it, splashingthrough shallow pools and ploughing into tangled brush. When he camewithin sight of the river the cattle were emerging from it upon a sandybar that formed an island in midstream. 

He kicked off his chaps, remounted, and headed into the water. Thecurrent was strong and Powder River already tired. But the broncobreasted the rushing waters gamely. It was swept downstream, fightingevery inch of the way. When at last the Wyoming horse touched bottom, itwas at the lower edge of the long bar. 

Bob swung down into the water and led his mount ashore. 

From the bank he had just left, Hawks called to him. "Want I should comeover, or can you handle 'em?"

"Better stay there till I see if I can start 'em back, " Bob shouted. 

On Powder River he rounded up the cattle, a score or more of them, anddrove them back into the stream. They went reluctantly, for they too weretired and the swim across had been a hard one. But after one or two hadstarted the others followed. 

The young cowpuncher did not like the look of the black rushing waters. He had known one horrible moment of terror while he was crossing, thatmoment during which he had been afraid Powder River would be swept beyondthe point of the sand spit. Now he cringed at the thought of venturinginto that flood again. He postponed the hazard, trying two or threestarting-places tentatively before he selected one at the extreme upperpoint of the island. 

His choice was a bad one. The bronco was carried down into a swirl ofdeep, angry water. So swift was the undertow that Powder River wasdragged from beneath its rider. Bob caught at the mane of the horse andclung desperately to it with one hand. A second or two, and this was tornfrom his clutch. 

Dillon was washed downstream. He went under, tried to cry for help, andswallowed several gulps of water. When he came to the surface again hewas still close to the island, buffeted by the boiling torrent. It swepthim to a bar of willow bushes. To these he clung with the frenzy of adrowning man. 

After a time he let go one hand-hold and found another. Gradually heworked into the shallows and to land. He could see Powder River, fardownstream, still fighting impotently against the pressure of thecurrent. 

Bob shuddered. If he lived a hundred years he would never have a closerescape from drowning. It gave him a dreadful sinking at the stomach evento look at the plunging Blanco. The river was like some fearful monsterfuriously seeking to devour. 

The voice of Hawks came to him. "Stay there while I get the boss. "

The dismounted cowboy watched Hawks ride away, then lay down in the hotsand and let the sun bake him. He felt sick and weak, as helpless as ablind and wobbly pup. 

It may have been an hour later that he heard voices and looked across tothe mouth of the ravine. Harshaw and Big Bill and Dud were there withHawks. They were in a group working with ropes. 

Harshaw rode into the river. He carried a coil of rope. Evidently two ormore lariats had been tied together. 

"Come out far as you can and catch this rope when I throw it, " Harshawtold the marooned cowboy. 

Bob ventured out among the willows, wading very carefully to make sure ofhis footing. The current swirled around his thighs and tugged at him. 

The cattleman flung the rope. It fell short. He pulled it in and rewoundthe coil. This time he drove his horse into deeper water. The animal wasswimming when the loop sailed across to the willows. 

Dillon caught it, slipped it over his body, and drew the noose tight. Amoment later he was being tossed about by the cross-currents. The lariattightened. He was dragged under as the force of the torrent flung himinto midstream. His body was racked by conflicting forces tugging at it. He was being torn in two, the victim of a raging battle going on topossess him. Now he was on his face, now on his back. For an instant hecaught a glimpse of blue sunlit sky before he plunged down again into theblack waters and was engulfed by them. .. . 

He opened his eyes. Dud's voice came from a long way. 

"Comin' to all right. Didn't I tell you this bird couldn't drown?"

The mists cleared. Bob saw Dud's cheerful smile, and back of it the facesof Harshaw, Hawks, and Big Bill. 

"You got me out, " he murmured. 

"Sure did, Bob. You're some drookit, but I reckon we can dry you like wedid the grub, " his riding mate said. 

"Who got me?"

"Blame the boss. "

"We all took a hand, boy, " Harshaw explained. "It was quite some job. Youwere headed for Utah right swift. The boys rode in and claimed ownership. How you feelin'?"

"Fine, " Bob answered, and he tried to demonstrate by rising. 

"Hold on. What's yore rush?" Harshaw interrupted. "You're right dizzy, Iexpect. A fellow can't swallow the Blanco and feel like kickin' a hole inthe sky right away. Take yore time, boy. "

Bob remembered his mount. "Powder River got away from me--in the water. "He said it apologetically. 

"I'm not blamin' you for that, " the boss said, and laid a kindly hand onDillon's shoulder. 

"Was it drowned?"

"I reckon we'll find that out later. Lucky you wasn't. That's a heap moreimportant. "

Bob was riding behind Dud fifteen minutes later in the wake of the herd. Hawks had gone back to learn what had become of Powder River. 

Supper was ready when Buck reached camp. He was just in time to hear thecook's "Come an' get it. " He reported to Harshaw. 

"Horse got outa the river about a mile below the island. I scouted aroundsome for it, but couldn't trail in the dark. "

"All right, Buck. To-morrow Dud and Bob can ride back and get the bronc. We'll loaf along the trail and make a short day of it. "

He sat down on his heels, reached for a tin plate and cup, and began oneof the important duties of the day. 

CHAPTER XXVI

CUTTING SIGN

Dud's observation, when he and Bob took the back trail along the river tofind the missing bronco, confirmed that of Buck Hawks. He found the placewhere a horse had clawed its way out of the stream to the clay bank. Fromhere it had wandered into the sage and turned toward the home ranch. Thetracks showed that Powder River was moving slowly, grazing as it went. 

"I reckon by noon we can say 'Hello!' to yore bronc, " Dud prophesied. "Noneed to trail it. All we got to do is follow the river. "

An hour later he drew up and swung from the saddle. "Now I wonder whowe've had with us this glad mawnin'. "

Dud stooped and examined carefully tracks in the mud. Bob joined him. 

"Powder River ain't so lonesome now. Met up with friends, looks like. Takin' a li'l' journey north. " The cowpuncher's blue eyes sparkled. Theprosaic pursuit of a stray mount had of a sudden become Adventure. 

"You mean--?"

"What do _you_ read from this sign we've cut?"

Bob told his deductions. "Powder River met some one on horseback. The mangot off. Here's his tracks. "

"Fellow, use yore haid, " admonished his friend. "Likewise yore eyes. Youwouldn't say this track was made by the same man as this one, wouldyou?"

"No. It's bigger. "

"An' here's another, all wore off at the heel. We got three men anyhow. Which means also three horses. Point of fact there are four mounts, oneto carry the pack. "

"How do you know there are four?"

"They had four when they camped close to us night 'fore last. "

Dillon felt a sinking at the pit of his stomach. "You think this isHouck's outfit?"

"That'd be my guess. "

"An' that they've taken Powder River with them?"

"I'm doing better than guessin' about that. One of the party saw a broncwith an empty saddle an' tried to rope it. First time he missed, but hemade good when he tried again. "

"If I had yore imagination, Dud--"

"Straight goods. See here where the loop of the rope dragged along thetop of the mud after the fellow missed his throw. "

Bob saw the evidence after it had been pointed out to him. "But thatdon't prove he got Powder River next time he threw, " he protested. 

"Here's where that's proved. " Dud showed him the impressions of two hoofsdug deep into the ground. "Powder River bucked after he was roped an'tried to break away. The other horse, like any good cowpony does, leanedback on the rope an' dug a toe-hold. "

"Where's Houck going?"

"Brown's Park likely, from the way they're headed. "

"What'll we do?"

"Why, drap in on them to-night kinda casual an' say 'Much obliged forroundin' up our stray bronc for us. '"

This programme did not appeal to Bob. In that camp were two enemies ofhis. Both of them also hated Dud. Houck and Walker were vindictive. Itwas not likely either of them would forget what they owed these two youngfellows. 

"Maybe we'd better ride back an' tell the boss first, " he suggested. 

"Maybe we'd better not, " Hollister dissented. "By that time they'd be sofar ahead we'd never catch 'em. No, sir. We'll leave a note here for theboss. Tack it to this cottonwood. If we don't show up in a reasonabletime he'll trail back an' find out what for not. "

"That'd do us a lot of good if Houck had dry-gulched us. "

Dud laughed. "You're the lad with the imagination. Far as Houck goes, an'Bandy Walker, too, for that matter, I'll make you a present of the pairof 'em as two sure-enough bad eggs. But they've got to play the handsdealt 'em without knowin' what we're holdin'. "

"They've prob'ly got rifles, an' we haven't. "

"It's a cinch they've got rifles. But they won't dare use 'em. How dothey know we're playin' this alone? First off, I'll mention that I sentBuck back to tell the boss we'd taken the trail after them. That puts itup to them to act reasonable whether they want to or not. Another thing. We surprise 'em. Give the birds no chance to talk it over. Not knowin'what to do, they do nothing. Ain't that good psycho-ology, as Blistersays when he calls a busted flush?"

"Trouble is we're holdin' the busted flush. "

"Sure, an' Houck'll figure we wouldn't 'a' trailed him unless we'd fixedthe play right beforehand. His horse sense will tell him we wouldn't gothat strong unless our cards was all blue. We're sittin' in the goldenchair. O' course we'll give the birds a chance to save their faces--makeit plain that we're a whole lot obliged to 'em for lookin' after PowderRiver for us. "

Bob's sagging head went up. He had remembered Blister's injunction. "Allright, Dud. Turn yore wolf loose. I'll ride along an' back the bluff. "

They left the river and climbed to the mesa. The trail took them througha rough country of sagebrush into the hills of greasewood and piñon. Inmid-afternoon they shot a couple of grouse scuttling through the bunchgrass. Now and again they started deer, but they were not looking formeat. A brown bear peered at them from a thicket and went crashing awaywith an awkward gait that carried it over the ground fast. 

From a summit they saw before them a thin spiral of smoke rising out ofan arroyo. 

"I reckon that's the end of the trail, " Dud drawled. "We're real pleasedto meet up with you, Mr. Houck. Last time I had the pleasure was a sortaspecial picnic in yore honor. You was ridin' a rail outa Bear Cat an'being jounced up considerable. "

"If he thinks of that--"

"He'll think of it, " Dud cut in cheerfully. "He's gritted his teeth a lotof times over that happenstance, Mr. Houck has. It tastes right bitter inhis mouth every time he recollects it. First off, soon as he sees us, he'll figure that his enemies have been delivered into his hand. It'll beup to us to change his mind. If you're all set, Sure-Shot, we'll driftdown an' start the peace talk. "

Bob moistened his dry lips. "All set. "

They rode down the hillside, topped another rise, and descended into thedraw where a camp was pitched. 

A young fellow chopping firewood moved forward to meet them. 

"There's Powder River with the broncs, " Bob said in a low voice to hisfriend. 

"Yes, " said Dud, and he swung from the saddle. 

"'Lo, fellows. Where you headed for?" the wood-chopper asked amiably. 

Two men were sitting by the fire. They waited, in an attitude oflistening. Dusk had fallen. The glow of the fire lighted their faces, butthe men who had just ridden up were in the gathering darkness beyond thecircle lit by the flames. 

"We came to get Powder River, the bronc you rounded up for us, " Hollistersaid evenly. "Harshaw sent us ahead. We're sure much obliged to you foryore trouble. "

The larger of the two men by the fire rose and straddled forward. Helooked at Dud and he looked at Bob. His face was a map of conflictingemotions. 

"Harshaw sent you, did he?"

"Yes, sir. Bob had bad luck in the river an' the horse got away from him. I reckon the pony was lightin' out for home when yore rope stopped thejourney. " The voice of Dud was cheerful and genial. It ignored any littledifferences of the past with this hook-nosed individual whose eyes wereso sultry and passionate. 

"So he sent you two fellows, did he? I'll say he's a good picker. I beenwantin' to meet you, " he said harshly. 

"Same here, Houck. " Bandy Walker pushed to the front, jerking aforty-five from its scabbard. 

Houck's hand shot forward and caught the cowpuncher by the wrist. "What'sbitin' you, Bandy? Time enough for that when I give the word. "

The yellow teeth of the bow-legged man showed in a snarl of rage andpain. "I'd 'a' got Dillon if you'd let me be. "

"Didn't you hear this guy say Harshaw sent them here? Use yore horsesense, man. " Houck turned to Hollister. "Yore bronc's with the others. The saddle's over by that rock. Take 'em an' hit the trail. "

In sullen rage Houck watched Dud saddle and cinch. Not till the SlashLazy D riders were ready to go did he speak again. 

"Tell you what I'll do, " he proposed. "Get down off'n yore horses, botho' you, an' I'll whale the daylight outa the pair of you. Bandy'll staywhere he's at an' not mix in. "

Hollister looked at Bandy, and he knew the fellow's trigger fingeritched. There was not a chance in the world that he would stand back andplay fair. But that was not the reason why Dud declined the invitation. He had not come to get into trouble. He meant to keep out of it if hecould. 

"Last fellow that licked me hauled me down off'n my bronc, Mr. Houck, "Dud answered, laughing. "No, sir. We got to turn down that invite to awhalin'. The boss gave us our orders straight. No trouble a-tall. Iexpect if it was our own say-so we might accommodate you. But not the waythings are. "

"No guts, either of you. Ain't two to one good enough?" jeered Houckangrily. 

"Not good enough right now. Maybe some other time, Mr. Houck, " Dudreplied, his temper unruffled. 

"You want it to be twelve to one, like it was last time, eh?"

"Harshaw will be lookin' for us, so we'll be sayin' good-evenin', " therider for the Slash Lazy D said quietly. 

He turned his horse to go, as did his companion. Houck cursed them bothbitterly. While they rode into the gloom Bob's heart lifted to histhroat. Goosequills ran up and down his spine. Would one of his enemiesshoot him in the back? He could hardly keep from swinging his head tomake sure they were not aiming at him. He wanted to touch his mount witha spur to quicken the pace. 

But Dud, riding by his side, held his bronco to the slow even road gaitof the traveler who has many miles to cover. Apparently he had forgottenthe existence of the furious, bitter men who were watching their exitfrom the scene. Bob set his teeth and jogged along beside him. 

Not till they were over the hill did either of them speak. 

"Wow!" grunted Dud as he wiped the sweat from his face. "I'm sure enoughglad to have that job done with. My back aches right between the shoulderblades where a bullet might 'a' hit it. "

Bob relaxed in the saddle. He felt suddenly faint. Even now he foundhimself looking round apprehensively to make sure that a man carrying arifle was not silhouetted on the hilltop against the sky-line. 

CHAPTER XXVII

PARTNERS IN PERIL

Into the office of Blister Haines, J. P. , a young man walked. He was aberry-brown youth, in the trappings of the range-rider, a little thin andstringy, perhaps, but well-poised and light-stepping. 

With one swift glance the fat man swept his visitor from head to foot andliked what he saw. The lean face was tanned, the jaw firm, the eye directand steady. There was no need to tell this man to snap up his head. Eightmonths astride a saddle in the sun and wind had wrought a change inRobert Dillon. 

"'Lo, Red Haid, " the justice sang out squeakily. "How's yore good health?I heerd you was d-drowned. Is you is, or is you ain't? Sit down an' restyore weary bones. "

"I took a swim, " admitted Bob. "The boys fished me out while I was stillkickin'. "

"Rivers all high?"

"Not so high as they were. We noticed quite a difference on the wayback. "

"Well, s-sit down an' tell me all about it. How do you like ridin', Texasman?"

"Like it fine. "

"All yore troubles blown away?"

"Most of 'em. I'm a long way from being a wolf yet, though. "

"So? B-by the way, there's a friend of yours in town--Jake Houck. "

There was a moment's pause. "Did he say he was my friend?" asked Bob. 

"Didn't mention it. Thought maybe you'd like to know he's here. It's notlikely he'll trouble you. "

"I'd be glad to be sure of that. Dud an' I had a little run-in with himlast month. He wasn't hardly in a position then to rip loose, seein' ashe had my horse an' saddle in his camp an' didn't want Harshaw in hiswool. So he cussed us out an' let it go at that. Different now. I'mplayin' a lone hand--haven't got the boss back of me. "

"F-fellow drifted in from Vernal yesterday, " the justice piped, easinghimself in his chair. "Told a s-story might interest you. Said Jake Houckhad some trouble with a y-young Ute buck over a hawss. Houck had beendrinkin', I reckon. Anyhow he let the Injun have it in the stomach. Two-three shots outa his six-gun. The Utes claimed it was murder. Jake hedidn't wait to adjust no claims, but lit out on the jump. "

"Won't the Government get him?"

The fat man shrugged. "Oh, well, a Ute's a Ute. Point is that Houck, whoalways was a t-tough nut, has gone bad since the boys rode him on a rail. He's proud as Lucifer, an' it got under his hide. He's kinda cuttin'loose an' givin' the devil in him free rein. Wouldn't surprise me if heturned into a killer of the worst kind. "

Bob's eyes fastened to his uneasily. "You think he's--after me?"

"I think he'll d-do to watch. "

"Yes, but--"

Blister rolled a cigarette and lit it before he asked casually, "Stayin'long in town?"

"Leavin' to-day for the ranch. "

"What size gun you carry for rattlesnakes?"

"Mine's a forty-five. " Bob took it out, examined it, and thrust theweapon between his trousers and his shirt. If he felt any mentaldisturbance he did not show it except in the anxious eyes. 

Blister changed the subject lightly. "Hear anything ab-b-bout the Utesrisin'? Any talk of it down the river?"

"Some. The same old stuff. I've been hearin' it for a year. "

"About ripe, looks like. This business of Houck ain't gonna help any. There's a big bunch of 'em over there in the hills now. They've beenrunnin' off stock from outlying ranches. "

"Sho! The Indians are tamed. They'll never go on the warpath again, Blister. "

"J-just once more, an' right soon now. "

The justice gave his reasons for thinking so, while Bob listened ratherinattentively. The boy wanted to ask him about June, but he rememberedwhat his fat friend had told him last time he mentioned her to him. Hewas still extremely sensitive about his failure to protect his girl-wifeand he did not want to lay himself open to snubs. 

Bob sauntered from the office, and before he had walked a dozen stepscame face to face with June. She was coming out of a grocery with somepackages in her arms. The color flooded her dusky cheeks. She looked athim, startled, like a fawn poised for flight. 

During the half-year since he had seen her June had been transformed. Shehad learned the value of clothes. No longer did she wear a shapeless sackfor a dress. Her shoes were small and shapely, her black hair neatlybrushed and coiffed. The months had softened and developed the lines ofthe girlish figure. Kindness and friendliness had vitalized theexpression of the face and banished its sullenness. The dark eyes, withjust a hint of wistful appeal, were very lovely. 

Both of them were taken unawares. Neither knew what to do or say. Afterthe first instant of awkwardness June moved forward and passed himsilently. 

Bob went down the street, seeing nothing. His pulses trembled withexcitement. This charming girl was his wife, or at least she once hadbeen for an hour. She had sworn to love, honor, and obey him. There hadbeen a moment in the twilight when they had come together to the verge ofsomething divinely sweet and wonderful, when they had gazed into eachother's eyes and had looked across the boundary of the promised land. 

If he had only kept the faith with her! If he had stood by her in thehour of her great need! The bitterness of his failure ate into the soulof the range-rider as it had done already a thousand times. It did notmatter what he did. He could never atone for the desertion on theirwedding day. The horrible fact was written in blood. It could not beerased. Forever it would have to stand between them. An unbridgeable gulfseparated them, created by his shameless weakness. 

When Bob came to earth he found himself clumping down the river roadmiles from town. He turned and walked back to Bear Cat. His cowpony wasat the corral and he was due at the ranch by night. 

Young Dillon's thoughts had been so full of June and his relation to herthat it was with a shock of surprise he saw Jake Houck swing out from thehotel porch and bar the way. 

"Here's where you 'n' me have a settlement, " the Brown's Park manannounced. 

"I'm not lookin' for trouble, " Bob said, and again he was aware of aheavy sinking at the stomach. 

"You never are, " jeered Houck. "But it's right here waitin' for you, Mr. Rabbit Heart. "

Bob heard the voices of children coming down the road on their way fromschool. He knew that two or three loungers were watching him and Houckfrom the doors of adjacent buildings. He was aware of a shouting andcommotion farther up the street. But these details reached him onlythrough some subconscious sense of absorption. His whole attention wasconcentrated on the man in front of him who was lashing himself into afighting rage. 

What did Houck mean to do? Would he throw down on him and kill? Or wouldhe attack with his bare hands? Fury and hatred boiled into the big man'sface. His day had come. He would have his revenge no matter what it cost. Bob could guess what hours of seething rage had filled Houck's world. Thefreckle-faced camp flunkey had interfered with his plans, snatched fromhim the bride he had chosen, brought upon him a humiliation that must begall to his proud spirit whenever he thought of Bear Cat's primitivejustice. He would pay his debt in full. 

The disturbance up the street localized itself. A woman picked up herskirts and flew wildly into a store. A man went over the park fencealmost as though he had been shot out of a catapult. Came the crack of arevolver. Some one shouted explanation. "Mad dog!"

A brindle bull terrier swung round the corner and plunged forward. Withbristling hair and foaming mouth, it was a creature of horrible menace. 

Houck leaped for the door of the hotel. Bob was at his heels, in a panicto reach safety. 

A child's scream rang out. Dillon turned. The school children were inwild flight, but one fair-haired little girl stood as though paralyzed inthe middle of the road. She could not move out of the path of the wildbeast bearing down upon her. 

Instinctively Bob's mind functioned. The day was warm and his coat hungover an arm. He stepped into the road as the brindle bull came oppositethe hotel. The coat was swung out expertly and dropped over the animal'shead. The cowpuncher slipped to his knees, arms tightening and fingersfeeling for the throat of the writhing brute struggling blindly. 

Its snapping jaws just missed his hand. Man and dog rolled over into thedust together. Its hot breath fanned Bob's face. Again he was astride ofthe dog. His fingers had found its throat at last. They tightened, inspite of its horrible muscular contortions to get free. 

There came a swish of skirts, the soft pad of running feet. A girl'svoice asked, "What shall I do?"

It did not at that moment seem strange to Dillon that June was besidehim, her face quick with tremulous anxiety. He spoke curtly, as one whogives orders, panting under the strain of the effort to hold the dog. 

"My gun. "

She picked the forty-five up from where it had fallen. Their eyes met. The girl did swiftly what had to be done. It was not until she was alonein her room half an hour later that the thought of it made her sick. 

Bob rose, breathing deep. For an instant their eyes held fast. She handedhim the smoking revolver. Neither of them spoke. 

From every door, so it seemed, people poured and converged toward them. Excited voices took up the tale, disputed, explained, offered excuses. Everybody talked except June and Bob. 

Blister rolled into the picture. "Dawg-gone my hide if I ever seeanything to b-beat that. He was q-quick as c-chain lightnin', the boywas. Johnny on the spot. Jumped the critter s-slick as a whistle. " Hisfat hand slapped Bob's shoulder. "The boy was sure there with both handsand feet. "

"What about June?" demanded Mollie. "Seems to me she wasn't more'n a mileaway while you men-folks were skedaddlin' for cover. "

The fat man's body shook with laughter. "The boys didn't s-stop to makeany farewell speeches, tha's a fact. I traveled some my own self, but Ihadn't hardly got started before Houck was outa sight, an' him claimin'he was lookin' for trouble too. "

"Not that kind of trouble, " grinned Mike the bartender. He could affordto laugh, for since he had been busy inside he had not been one of thevanishing heroes. "Don't blame him a mite either. If it comes to that I'mgivin' the right of way to a mad dog every time. "

"Hmp!" snorted Mollie. "What would 'a' happened to little Maggie Wigginsif Dillon here had felt that way?"

Bob touched Blister on the arm and whispered in his ear. "Get me to thedoc. I gotta have a bite cauterized. "

It was hardly more than a scratch, but while the doctor was making hispreparations the puncher went pale as service-berry blossoms. He satdown, grown suddenly faint. The bite of a mad dog held sinisterpossibilities. 

Blister fussed around cheerfully until the doctor had finished. "Everysilver l-lining has got its cloud, don't you r-reckon? Here's Jake Houcknow, all s-set for a massacree. He's a wolf, an' it's his night to howl. Don't care who knows it, by gum. Hands still red from one killin'. Arip-snortin' he-wolf from the bad lands! Along comes Mr. Mad Dog, an'Jake he hunts his hole with his tail hangin'. Kinda takes the tuck outahim. Bear Cat wouldn't hardly stand for him gunnin' you now, Bob. Notafter you tacklin' that crazy bull terrier to save the kids. He'll haveto postpone that settlement he was promisin' you so big. "

The puncher voiced the fear in his mind. "Do folks always go mad whenthey're bit by a mad dog, doctor?"

"Not a chance hardly, " Dr. Tuckerman reassured. "First place, the dogprobably wasn't mad. Second place, 't wa'n't but a scratch and we got atit right away. No, sir. You don't need to worry a-tall. "

Outside the doctor's office Blister and Bob met Houck. The Brown's Parkman scowled at the puncher. "I'm not through with you. Don't you thinkit! Jus' because you had a lucky fluke escape--"

"Tacklin' a crazy wild beast whilst you an' me were holin' up, " Blisterinterjected. 

Houck looked at the fat man bleakly. "You in this, Mr. Meddler? If you'renot declarin' yoreself in, I'd advise you to keep out. "

Blister Haines laughed amiably with intent to conciliate. "What's the useof nursin' a grudge against the boy, Houck? He never did you any harm. S-shake hands an' call it off. "

"You manage yore business if you've got any. I'll run mine, " retortedHouck. To Bob he said meaningly as he turned away, "One o' these days, young fellow. "

The threat chilled Dillon, but it was impossible just now to remaindepressed. He rode back to the ranch in a glow of pleasure. Thoughts ofJune filled every crevice of his mind. They had shared an adventuretogether, had been partners in a moment of peril. She could not whollydespise him now. He was willing to admit that Houck had been right whenhe called it a fluke. The chance might not have come to him, or he mightnot have taken it. The scream of little Maggie Wiggins had saved the dayfor him. If he had had time to think--but fortunately impulse had swepthim into action before he could let discretion stop him. 

He lived over again joyfully that happy moment when June had stood beforehim pulsing with life, eager, fear-filled, tremulous. He had taken theupper hand and she had accepted his leadership. The thing his eyes hadtold her to do she had done. He would remember that--he would remember italways. 

Nor did it dim his joy that he felt himself to be a fraud. It had takenno pluck to do what he did, since he had only obeyed a swift dominatingmental reaction to the situation. The real courage had been hers. 

He knew now that he would have to take her with him in his thoughts onmany a long ride whether he wanted to or not. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

JUNE IS GLAD

June turned away from the crowd surrounding the dead mad dog and walkedinto the hotel. The eyes of more than one man followed the slim, gracefulfigure admiringly. Much water had run down the Rio Blanco since the dayswhen she had been the Cinderella of Piceance Creek. The dress she worewas simple, but through it a vivid personality found expression. Nolonger was she a fiery little rebel struggling passionately against asense of inferiority. She had come down from the hills to a countryfilled with laughter and the ripple of brooks. 

The desire to be alone was strong upon her--alone with the happy thoughtsthat pushed themselves turbulently through her mind. She was tremulouswith excitement. For she hoped that she had found a dear friend who hadbeen lost. 

Once, on that dreadful day she would never forget, June had told JakeHouck that Bob Dillon was as brave as he. It had been the forlorn cry ofa heart close to despair. But the words were true. She hugged thatknowledge to her bosom. Jake had run away while Bob had stayed to facethe mad dog. And not Jake alone! Blister Haines had run, with others oftested courage. Bob had outgamed him. He admitted it cheerfully. 

Maybe the others had not seen little Maggie Wiggins. But Bob had seenher. The child's cry had carried him back into the path of the brindleterrier. June was proud, not only of what he had done, but of the way hehad done it. His brain had functioned swiftly, his motions been timedexactly. Only coördination of all his muscles had enabled him to down thedog so expertly and render the animal harmless. 

During the months since she had seen him June had thought often of theman whose name she legally bore. After the first few hours there had beenno harshness in her memories of him. He was good. She had always feltthat. There was something fine and sweet and generous in his nature. Without being able to reason it out, she was sure that no fair judgmentwould condemn him wholly because at a crisis he had failed to exhibit aquality the West holds in high esteem and considers fundamental. Into herheart there had come a tender pity for him, a maternal sympathy thatflowed out whenever he came into her musings. 

Poor boy! She had learned to know him so well. He would whip himself withhis own scorn. This misadventure that had overwhelmed him might frustrateall the promise of his life. He was too sensitive. If he lost heart--ifhe gave up--

She had longed to send a message of hope to him, but she had been afraidthat he might misunderstand it. Her position was ambiguous. She was hiswife. The law said so. But of course she was not his wife at all exceptin name. They were joint victims of evil circumstance, a boy and a girlwho had rushed to a foolish extreme. Some day one or the other of themwould ask the law to free them of the tie that technically bound themtogether. 

Now she need not worry about him any longer. He had proved his mettlepublicly. The court of common opinion would reverse the verdict it hadpassed upon him. He would go out of her life and she need no longer feelresponsible for the shadow that had fallen over his. 

So she reasoned consistently, but something warm within her gave the lieto this cold disposition of their friendship. She did not want to let himgo his way. She had no intention of letting him go. She could not expressit, but in some intangible way he belonged to her. As a brother might, she told herself; not because Blister Haines had married them when theyhad gone to him in their hurry to solve a difficulty. Not for that reasonat all, but because from the first hour of meeting, their spirits hadgone out to each other in companionship. Bob had understood her. He hadbeen the only person to whom she could confide her troubles, the only palshe had ever known. 

Standing before the glass in her small bedroom, June saw that her eyeswere shining, the blood glowing through the dusky cheeks. Joy hadvitalized her whole being, had made her beautiful as a wild rose. For themoment at least she was lyrically happy. 

This ardor still possessed June when she went into the dining-room tomake the set-ups for supper. She sang snatches of "Dixie" and "My OldKentucky Home" as she moved about her work. She hummed the chorus of"Juanita. " From that she drifted to the old spiritual "Swing Low, SweetChariot. "

A man was washing his hands in the tin basin provided outside for guestsof the hotel. Through the window came to him the lilt of the fresh youngvoice. 

 "Swing low, sweet chariot, Comin' fo' to carry me home. "

The look of sullen, baffled rage on the man's dark face did not lighten. He had been beaten again. His revenge had been snatched from him almostat the moment of triumph. If that mad dog had not come round the cornerjust when it did, he would have evened the score between him and Dillon. June had seen the whole thing. She had been a partner in the red-headedboy's ovation. Houck ground his teeth in futile anger. 

Presently he slouched into the dining-room. 

Mollie saw him and walked across the room to June. "I'll wait on him ifyou don't want to. "

The waitress shook her head. "No, I don't want him to think I'm afraid ofhim. I'm not, either. I'll wait on him. "

June took Houck's order and presently served it. 

His opaque eyes watched her in the way she remembered of old. They werestill bold and possessive, still curtained windows through which sheglimpsed volcanic passion. 

"You can tell that squirt Dillon I ain't through with him yet, not by ajugful, " he growled. 

"If you have anything to tell Bob Dillon, say it to _him_, " Juneanswered, looking at him with fearless, level eyes of scorn. 

"An' I ain't through with you, I'd have you know. "

June finished putting his order on the table. "But I'm through with you, Jake Houck, " she said, very quietly. 

"Don't think it. Don't you think it for a minute, " he snarled. "I'mgonna--"

He stopped, sputtering with fury. June had turned and walked into thekitchen. He rose, evidently intending to follow her. 

Mollie Larson barred the way, a grim, square figure with the air of abrigadier-general. 

"Sit down, Jake Houck, " she ordered. "Or get out. I don't care which. Butdon't you think I'll set by an' let you pester that girl. If you had alick o' sense you'd know it ain't safe. "

There was nothing soft about Houck. He was a hard and callous citizen, and he lived largely outside the law and other people's standards ofconduct. But he knew when he had run up against a brick wall. Mrs. Larsonhad only to lift her voice and half a dozen men would come running. Hewas in the country of the enemy, so to say. 

"Am I pesterin' her?" he demanded. "Can't I talk to a girl I knew whenshe was a baby? Have I got to get an O. K. From you before I say'Good-mawnin' to her?"

"Her father left June in my charge. I'm intendin' to see you let heralone. Get that straight. "

Houck gave up with a shrug of his big shoulders. He sat down and attackedthe steak on his plate. 

CHAPTER XXIX

"INJUNS"

Bob swung down from the saddle in front of the bunkhouse. 

Reeves came to the door and waved a hand. "'Lo, Sure-Shot! What's new inBear Cat?"

"Fellow thinkin' of startin' a drug-store. Jim Weaver is the happy dad oftwins. Mad dog shot on Main Street. New stage-line for Marvine planned. Mr. Jake Houck is enjoyin' a pleasant visit to our little city. I reckonthat's about all. "

Dud had joined Tom in the doorway. "Meet up with Mr. Houck?" he asked. 

"Yes. "

"Have any talk?"

"He had some, but he hadn't hardly got to goin' good when the mad dogsashayed up the street. Mr. Houck he adjourned the meetin' immediate. "

"More important business, I reckon, " Dud grinned. 

"He didn't mention it, but all those present were in a kinda hurry. "

"So's some one else. " Reeves nodded his head toward a small cloud of dustapproaching the ranch. 

A rider galloped up and dragged his mount to a halt. "Utes have brokeout! Killed a trapper on Squaw Creek! Burned two nesters' houses!" Hisvoice was high and excited. 

"Rumor?" asked Dud. 

"No, sir. I talked with a fellow that seen the body. Met two familiesthat had lit out from Squaw Creek. They're sure enough on the warpath. "

Harshaw took the matter seriously. He gave crisp orders to his riders tocover the creeks and warn all settlers to leave for Bear Cat or Meeker. Dud and Bob were assigned Milk Creek. 

It was hard for the young fellows, as they rode through a land of warmsunshine, to believe that there actually was another Indian outbreak. Ithad been ten years since the Meeker massacre and the defeat of MajorThornburg's troops. The country had begun to settle up. The Utes knewthat their day was done, though they still came up occasionally from thereservation on illicit hunting trips. 

This very country over which they were riding was the scene of theThornburg battle-field. The Indians had lain in ambush and waited for thetroops to come over the brow of the rise. At the first volley thecommander of the soldiers had fallen mortally wounded. The whites, takenby surprise, fell back in disorder. The Utes moved up on them from bothsides and the trapped men fled. 

"Must 'a' been right about here Thornburg was shot, " explained Dud. "Charley Mason was one o' the soldiers an' he told me all about it. Captain Jack was in charge of this bunch of Utes. Seems he had signalfires arranged with those at the agency an' they began their attacks atthe same time. Charley claimed they didn't know there was Injuns withintwenty miles when the bullets began to sing. Says he ran five milesbefore he took a breath. "

Bob looked around apprehensively. History might repeat itself. At thisvery moment the Utes might be lying in the draw ready to fire on them. Hewas filled with a sudden urgent desire to get through with their job andturn the heads of their ponies toward Bear Cat. 

"Makes a fellow feel kinda squeamish, " Dud said. "Let's move, Bob. "

They carried the word to the settlers on the creek and turned in thedirection of Bear Cat. They reached town late and found the placebustling with excitement. Families of settlers were arriving in wagonsand on horseback from all directions. There were rumors that the Indianswere marching on the town. A company of militia had been ordered to thescene by the Governor of the State and was expected to arrive on thesecond day from this. 

Camp-fires were burning in the park plaza and round them were groupedmen, women, and children in from the ranches. On all the roads leading totown sentries were stationed. Others walked a patrol along the riverbankand along the skirts of the foothills. 

Three or four cowpunchers had been celebrating the declaration of war. Inthe community was a general feeling that the Utes must be put down oncefor all. In spite of the alarm many were glad that the unrest had come toan issue at last. 

Bob and Dud tied their horses to a hitching-rack and climbed the fenceinto the park. Blister came out of the shadows to meet them. 

"W-whad I tell you, Texas man?" he asked of Bob. "Show-down at last, likeI said. "

Into the night lifted a startled yell. "Here come the Injuns!"

Taut nerves snapped. Wails of terror rose here and there. A womanfainted. The sound of a revolver shot rang out. 

One of the roisterers, who had been loud in his threats of what he meantto do to the Indians, lost his braggadocio instantly. He leaped for thesaddle of the nearest horse and dug his spurs home. In his fuddledcondition he made a mistake. He had chosen, as a mount upon which toescape, the fence that encircled the park. 

"Gid ap! Gid ap!" he screamed. 

"Yore bronc is some balky, ain't it, Jud?" Hollister asked. He hadalready discovered that the panic had been caused by a false cry of"Wolf" raised by one of the fence rider's companions. 

"S-some one hitched it to a post, " Blister suggested. 

"Ride him, puncher, " urged Bob. "Stick to yore saddle if he does buck. "

Jud came off the fence sheepishly. "I was aimin' to go get help, " heexplained. 

"Where was you going for it--to Denver?" asked Blister. 

The night wore itself out. With the coming of day the spirits of the lesshardy revived. The ranchers on the plaza breakfasted in groups, afterwhich their children were bundled off to school. Scouts rode out to learnthe whereabouts of the Utes and others to establish contact with theapproaching militia. 

Harshaw organized a company of rangers made up mostly of cowpunchers fromthe river ranches. During the day more of these drifted in. By dusk hehad a group of forty hard-riding young fellows who could shoot straightand were acquainted with the country over which they would have tooperate. Blister was second in command. All of the Slash Lazy D ridershad enlisted except one who had recently broken a leg. 

Scouts brought in word that the Utes had swung round Bear Cat and werecamped about thirty miles up the river. Harshaw moved out to meet them. He suspected the Indians of planning to ambush the militia before thesoldiers could join forces with the rangers. 

Bob had joined the rangers with no enthusiasm. He had enlisted because ofpressure both within and without. He would have been ashamed not to offerhimself. Moreover, everybody seemed to assume he would go. But he wouldmuch rather have stayed at Bear Cat with the home guards. From what hehad picked up, he was far from sure that the Utes were to blame thistime. The Houck killing, for instance. And that was not the only outragethey had endured. It struck him more like a rising of the whites. Theyhad provoked the young bucks a good deal, and a sheriff's posse hadarrested some of them for being off the reservation hunting. Wisediplomacy might at least have deferred the conflict. 

During the bustle of preparing to leave, Bob's spirits were normal eventhough his nerves were a little fluttery. As they rode out of town hecaught sight for a moment of a slim, dark girl in a blue gingham at thedoor of the hotel. She waved a hand toward the group of horsemen. It wasDud who answered the good-bye. He had already, Bob guessed, said aprivate farewell of his own to June. At any rate, his friend had metHollister coming out of the hotel a few minutes before. The cowpuncher'seyes were shining and a blue skirt was vanishing down the passage. Therehad been a queer ache in Bob Dillon's heart. He did not blame either ofthem. Of course June would prefer Dud to him. Any girl in her senseswould. He had all the charm of gay and gallant youth walking in thesunshine. 

None the less it hurt and depressed him that there should be a privateunderstanding between his friend and June. A poignant jealousy stabbedhim. There was nothing in his character to attract a girl like June ofswift and pouncing passion. He was too tame, too fearful. Dud had a spiceof the devil in him. It flamed out unexpectedly. Yet he was reliable too. This clean, brown man, fair-haired and steady-eyed, riding with suchincomparable ease, would do to tie to, in the phrase of the country. Small wonder a girl's heart turned to him. 

CHAPTER XXX

A RECRUIT JOINS THE RANGERS

Harshaw did not, during the first forty-eight hours after leaving BearCat, make contact with either the Indians or the militia. He movedwarily, throwing out scouts as his party advanced. At night he postedsentries carefully to guard against a surprise attack. It was not thehabit of the tribes to assault in the darkness, but he was taking nochances. It would be easy to fall into an ambush, but he had no intentionof letting the rangers become the victims of carelessness. 

At the mouth of Wolf Creek a recruit joined the company. He rode up aftercamp had been made for the night. 

"Jake Houck, " Bob whispered to Dud. 

"Who's boss of this outfit?" the big man demanded of Blister after he hadswung from the saddle. 

"Harshaw. You'll find him over there with the cavvy. "

Houck straddled across to the remuda. 

"Lookin' for men to fight the Utes?" he asked brusquely of the owner ofthe Slash Lazy D brand. 

"Yes, sir. "

"If you mean business an' ain't bully-pussin' I'll take a hand, " theBrown's Park man said, and both voice and manner were offensive. 

The captain of the rangers met him eye to eye. He did not like thisfellow. His reputation was bad. In the old days he had been a rustler, rumor said. Since the affair of the Tolliver girl he had been very sulkyand morose. This had culminated in the killing of the Ute. What the factswere about this Harshaw did not know. The man might be enlisting tosatisfy a grudge or to make himself safe against counter-attack byhelping to drive the Indians back to the reservation. The point thatstood out was that Houck was a first-class fighting man. That wasenough. 

"We mean business, Houck. Glad to have you join us. But get thisstraight. I'll not have you startin' trouble in camp. If you've got aprivate quarrel against any of the boys it will have to wait. "

"I ain't aimin' to start anything, " growled Houck. "Not till this job'sfinished. "

"Good enough. Hear or see anything of the Utes as you came?"

"No. "

"Which way you come?"

Houck told him. Presently the two men walked back toward thechuck-wagon. 

"Meet Mr. Houck, boys, any of you that ain't already met him, " saidHarshaw by way of introduction. "He's going to trail along with us for awhile. "

The situation was awkward. Several of those present had met Houck only asthe victim of their rude justice the night that June Tolliver had swumthe river to escape him. Fortunately the cook at that moment bawled outthat supper was ready. 

Afterward Blister had a word with Bob and Dud while he was arrangingsentry duty with them. 

"Wish that b-bird hadn't come. He's here because he wants to drive theUtes outa the country before they get him. The way I heard it he had nobusiness to kill that b-buck. Throwed down on him an' killed himonexpected. I didn't c-come to pull Jake Houck's chestnuts outa the firefor him. Not none. He ain't lookin' for to round up the Injuns and herd'em back to the reservation. He's allowin' to kill as many as he can. "

"Did anybody see him shoot the Ute?" asked Bob. 

"Seems not. They was back of a stable. When folks got there the Ute wasdown, but still alive. He claimed he never made a move to draw. Houck'sstory was that he shot in self-defense. Looked fishy. The Injun's gunwasn't in s-sight anywheres. "

"Houck's a bad actor, " Dud said. 

"Yes. " Blister came back to the order of the day. "All right, boys. Shifts of three hours each, then. T-turn an' turn about. You two takethis knoll here. If you see anything movin' that looks suspicious, blazeaway. We'll c-come a-runnin'. "

Bob had drunk at supper two cups of strong coffee instead of his usualone. His thought had been that the stimulant would tend to keep him awakeon duty. The effect the coffee had on him was to make his nerves jumpy. He lay on the knoll, rifle clutched fast in his hands, acutely sensitiveto every sound, to every hazy shadow of the night. The very silence wassinister. His imagination peopled the sage with Utes, creeping toward himwith a horrible and deadly patience. Chills tattooed up and down hisspine. 

He pulled out the old silver watch he carried and looked at the time. Itlacked five minutes of ten o'clock. The watch must have stopped. He heldit to his ear and was surprised at the ticking. Was it possible that hehad been on sentry duty only twelve minutes? To his highly strung nervesit had seemed like hours. 

A twig snapped. His muscles jumped. He waited, gun ready for action, eyesstraining into the gloom. Something rustled and sped away swiftly. Itmust have been a rabbit or perhaps a skunk. But for a moment his hearthad been in his throat. 

Again he consulted the watch. Five minutes past ten! Impossible, yettrue. In that eternity of time only a few minutes had slipped away. 

He resolved not to look at his watch again till after eleven. Meanwhilehe invented games to divert his mind from the numbing fear that filledhim. He counted the definite objects that stood out of the darkness--theclumps of sage, the greasewood bushes, the cottonwood trees by the river. It was his duty to patrol the distance between the knoll and those treesat intervals. Each time he crept to the river with a thumping heart. Those bushes--were they really willows or Indians waiting to slay himwhen he got closer?

Fear is paralyzing. It pushes into the background all the moralobligations. Half a dozen times the young ranger was on the point ofwaking Dud to tell him that he could not stand it alone. He recalledBlister's injunctions. But what was the use of throwing back his head andtelling himself he was made in the image of God when his flutteringpulses screamed denial, when his heart pumped water instead of blood?

He stuck it out. How he never knew. But somehow he clamped his teeth andwent through. As he grew used to it, his imagination became less activeand tricky. There were moments, toward the end of his vigil, when hecould smile grimly at the terror that had obsessed him. He was a borncoward, but he did not need to let anybody know it. It would always bewithin his power to act game whether he was or not. 

At one o'clock he woke Dud. That young man rolled out of his blanketgrumbling amiably. "Fine business! Why don't a fellow ever know when he'swell off? Me, I might be hittin' the hay at Bear Cat or Meeker instead ofrollin' out to watch for Utes that ain't within thirty or forty miles ofhere likely. Fellow, next war I stay at home. "

Bob slipped into his friend's warm blanket. He had no expectation ofsleeping, but inside of five minutes his eyes had closed and he was off. 

The sound of voices wakened him. Dud was talking to the jingler who hadjust come off duty. The sunlight was pouring upon him. He jumped up inconsternation. 

"I musta overslept, " Bob said. 

Dud grinned. "Some. Fact is, I hadn't the heart to waken you when you waspoundin' yore ear so peaceful an' tuneful. "

"You stood my turn, too. "

"Oh, well. It was only three hours. That's no way to divide the nightanyhow. "

They were eating breakfast when a messenger rode into camp. He was fromMajor Sheahan of the militia. That officer sent word that the Indianswere in Box Cañon. He had closed one end and suggested that the rangersmove into the other and bottle the Utes. 

Harshaw broke camp at once and started for the cañon. A storm blew up, afierce and pelting hail. The company took refuge in a cottonwood grove. The stones were as large as good-sized plums, and in three minutes theground was covered. Under the stinging ice bullets the horses grew veryrestless. More than one went plunging out into the open and had to beforced back to shelter by the rider. Fortunately the storm passed asquickly as it had come up. The sun broke through the clouds and shonewarmly upon rivulets of melted ice pouring down to the Blanco. 

Scouts were thrown forward once more and the rangers swung into the hillstoward Box Cañon. 

"How far?" Bob asked Tom Reeves. 

"'Bout half an hour now, I reckon. Hope we get there before the Injunshave lit out. "

Privately Bob hoped they would not. He had never been under fire and histhroat dried at the anticipation. 

"Sure, " he answered. "We're humpin' along right lively. Be there in time, I expect. Too bad if we have to chase 'em again all over the map. "

Box Cañon is a sword slash cut through the hills. From wall to wall it isscarcely forty feet across. One looks up to a slit of blue sky above. 

Harshaw halted close to the entrance. "Let's make sure where Mr. Ute isbefore we ride in, boys. He might be up on the bluffs layin' for us. Dud, you an' Tom an' Big Bill go take a look-see an' make sure. We'll comea-runnin' if we hear yore guns pop. "

Two men in uniform rode out of the gulch. At the sight of the rangersthey cantered forward. One was a sergeant. 

"Too late, " said he. "They done slipped away from us. We took shelterfrom the hail under a cutbank where the cañon widens. They musta slippedby us then. We found their tracks in the wet ground. They're headin' westagain, looks like. "

"We've got a warm trail, " Harshaw said to Blister Haines. "We better goright after 'em. "

"Hot foot, " agreed Blister. 

"Major Sheahan's followin' them now. He said for you to come rightalong. "

The cavalcade moved at once. 

CHAPTER XXXI

"DON'T YOU LIKE ME ANY MORE?"

Harshaw's rangers caught up with the militia an hour later. The valleymen were big, tanned, outdoor fellows, whereas the militia company wascomposed of young lads from Colorado towns, most of them slight and notyet fully developed. The state troopers were, however, brisk, alert, andsoldierly. Some of them were not used to riding, but they made the bestof it with the cheerful adaptability of American youth. 

The trail of the Indians cut back across the mesa toward Utah. Evidentlythey were making for their home country again. Bob began to hope that theUtes would reach the reservation without a fight. In this desire theowner of the Slash Lazy D heartily joined. He had no impulses toward theslaughter of the tribal remnants. 

Others of the party did not share this feeling. Without going into thecauses of the Indian troubles, it can safely be said that thefrontiersmen generally believed that the tribes were dangerous and not tobe trusted. In any difficulty between a white and a red man they assumedthe latter was to blame. Many old-timers held that the only way to settlethe Indian question was to exterminate the tribes or at least reduce themto impotence. 

The pursuers followed a hot trail. Twice they had a brush with the rearguard of the flying Utes, during which Bob heard bullets singing abovehis head. He felt a very unpleasant sinking in the pit of his stomach, and could hardly resist the temptation to slip out of the saddle and takerefuge behind the horse he was riding. 

The rangers and the soldiers reached Bear Cat long after dark. Dud andReeves had ridden into town ahead of their companions, so that when therest came in they found a hot supper waiting for them on the plaza. 

June helped serve the weary men. Big fires had been built on the squareand by the light of the flames Bob could see her slim figure flitting toand fro. Afterward, when the meal was at an end, he saw Dud Hollisterwalking beside her to the hotel. The cowpuncher was carrying a load ofdishes and supplies. It would have surprised Bob to learn that he was thesubject of their conversation. 

For the first time Dud had heard that day from Blister the story of themad dog episode. He made June tell it to him again from her viewpoint. When she had finished he asked her a question. 

"Anybody ever tell you about the fight Bob had with Bandy Walker?"

The light in her dark eyes quickened. "Did they have a fight?" she askedevenly, with not too great a show of interest. 

"I dunno as you could rightly call it a fight, " Dud drawled. "Bob hehammered Bandy, tromped on him, chewed him up, an' spit him out. He wasplumb active for about five minutes. "

"What was the trouble?"

"Bandy's one o' these mean bullies. He figured he could run on Bob. Theboy took it meek an' humble for a week or so before he settled with Bandygenerous an' handsome. The bow-legged guy might have got away with it ifhe hadn't made a mistake. "

"A mistake?" repeated June. 

"He had a few remarks to make about a young lady Bob knew. "

June said nothing. In the darkness Dud made out only the dusky outline ofher profile. He could not tell what she was thinking, had no guess thather blood was racing tumultuously, that a lump was swelling in the softround throat. 

Presently she asked her companion a question as to how Jake Houck came tobe with the rangers. Dud understood that the subject was changed. 

The soldiers found beds wherever they could. Some rolled up in theirblankets near the fires. Others burrowed into haystacks on the meadow. Before daybreak they expected to be on the march again. 

The bugle wakened them at dawn, but a good many of the cowpunchers werealready up. Big Bill went to one of the haystacks to get feed for hishorse. He gathered a great armful of hay and started away with it. Amuffled voice inside wailed protest. 

"Lemme out, doggone it. "

Bill dropped the hay, and from it emerged a short and slender youth inuniform. He bristled up to the huge puncher. 

"What d'you think you're doing, fellow?"

The cowpuncher sat down on a feed-rack and laughed till he was weak. "Drinks are on me, son, " he gasped at last. "I 'most fed you to myhawss. "

"Mebbe you think because I ain't as big as a house you can sit there an'laugh at me. I'll have you know you can't, " the boy snapped. 

"Fellow, I'm not laughin' at you. Napoleon was a runt, I've heard tell. But it was comical, you stickin' yore head up through the hay thataway. I'll stand pat on that, an' I ain't a-going to fight about it either. "

The soldier's dignity melted to a grin. "Did you say drinks was on you, Jumbo?"

After Big Bill had fed his horse they went away arm in arm to see whatDolan could do for them in the way of liquid refreshment. 

Just before the rangers and soldiers saddled for the start, Dud jingledover to his friend who was helping to pack the supply-wagons. 

"Lady wants to see you, Bob. I'll take yore place here, " Dud said. 

Dillon lifted a barrel half full of flour into the nearest wagon andstraightened a body cramped from stooping. "What lady?" he asked. 

"Listen to the fellow, " derided Hollister. "How many ladies has he got onthe string, do you reckon?" The fair-haired cowpuncher grinned. "Youmeander round to the back of the hotel an' I expect you'll meet up withthe lady. Mollie Larson she--"

"Oh, Mrs. Larson. " For a moment a wild hope had flamed in Bob's heart. His thoughts had flashed to another woman in the hotel. 

"Why, yes. Mollie runs the hotel, don't she? Was you lookin' for someother lady to send for you?" Dud asked innocently. 

Bob did not answer this. He was already striding toward the hotel. 

Out of the darkness of the adobe wall shadow a slim figure moved to meetthe ranger. The young fellow's heart lost a beat. 

"I--wanted to see you before you left, " a low voice said. 

A kind of palsy came over Dillon. He stood motionless, no life in himexcept for the eloquent eyes. No words came to help him. 

"I thought--maybe--" June stopped, hesitated, and came out impetuouslywith what was in her mind. "Aren't we _ever_ going to be friends again, Bob?"

A warm glow suffused him. The back of his eyes smarted with tears. Hestarted to speak, but stopped. For he was boyishly ashamed to discoverthat he could not trust his voice. 

"Don't you like me any more?" she asked. "Have I done something to makeyou mad?"

"No, you haven't. " There was a rough edge to the words, put there bysuppressed emotion. "You know better 'n that. I keep away from youbecause--because I acted like a yellow dog. "

"When you fought Bandy Walker to keep clean my good name?" she asked in amurmur. 

"Oh, that!" He waved her question aside as of no importance. 

"Or when you fought the mad dog in the street with yore bare hands?"

"You know when, June, " he answered bitterly. "When I let Jake Houck walkoff with you to save my worthless hide. "

"I've forgotten that, Bob, " she said gently. "So much has happened since. That was foolishness anyhow, what--what we did in Blister's office. But Ihate to give up the boy on Piceance Creek who was kinda like a brother tome. Do I have to lose him?"

There was no need for her big dark eyes to plead with him. His face wasworking. He bit his lip to keep from breaking down. This was what hewanted more than anything else in the world, but he was embarrassed andirritated at the display of emotion he could not wholly control. 

"'S all right with me, " he said gruffly. 

"Then we'll be friends again, won't we?"

"Ump-ha!" he grunted. "I--I'd just as lief. " He recognized this ascavalier and added: "I mean it's awful good of you. "

"When you come back you won't forget to ask for me if I'm not where yousee me. I'll want to hear all about what you do. "

"Yes, " he promised; and in a burst of gratitude cried: "You're a dandygirl, June. If you treated me like I deserved you'd never speak to meagain. "

She flushed. "That's silly. I never did feel thataway. Lots of times I'vewanted to tell you that--that it needn't make any difference. But Icouldn't, 'count of--what we did in Blister's office. A girl has to beawful careful, you know. If we hadn't done that foolish thing--"

"A judge'll fix you up with papers settin' you free, June, " he told her. "I'll do anything to help that you want. "

"Well, when you come back, " she postponed. Talk on that subjectdistressed and humiliated her. 

"I got to go, " he said. "Good-bye. "

"Good-bye. "

She gave him her hand shyly. Their eyes met and fell away. 

He stood a moment, trying to find an effective line of exit. He hadmissed his cue to leave, as thousands of lovers have before and since. 

"Got to hit the trail, " he murmured in anticlimax. 

"Yes, " she agreed. 

Bob drew back one foot and ducked his head in a bow. A moment later hewas hurrying toward the remuda. 

CHAPTER XXXII

A CUP OF COLD WATER

The pursuers caught up with the Utes the third day out from Bear Cat. Itwas in the morning, shortly after they had broken camp, that Houck andBig Bill while scouting in advance of the troop jumped up an Indian outof the sagebrush. 

He made across the mesa toward the river. Houck fired at him twice as heran, but the sentinel disappeared from sight apparently unhit. The soundof the firing brought up rapidly the main body of the troopers. BeforeMajor Sheahan and Harshaw could work out a programme another Indiansentry could be seen running through the sage. 

The sight of him was like that of a red rag to a bull. Not waiting fororders, a dozen punchers instantly gave chase. The rest of the partyfollowed. Houck was in the lead. Not far behind was Bob Dillon. 

The mesa bench dropped sharply down a bare shale scarp to the willowsgrowing near the river. The Indian camp below could be seen from the edgeof the bluff. But the rush to cut off the Ute was so impetuous that thefirst riders could not check their horses. They plunged down the bareslope at a headlong gallop. 

Bob heard the ping of bullets as they sang past him. He saw littlespatters of sand flung up where they struck. As his horse slithered downon its haunches through the rubble, the man just in front of him divedheadlong from his horse. Bob caught one horrified glimpse of him rollingover and clutching at his breast. Next moment Dillon, too, was down. Hismount had been shot under him. 

He jumped up and ran for the willows, crouching low as he sped throughthe sage. Into the bushes he flung himself and lay panting. He quakedwith fear. Every instant he expected to see the Utes rushing toward him. His rifle was gone, lost in the fall. The hand that drew the revolverfrom his belt trembled as with an ague. 

Only a few of the riders had been unable to check themselves on the edgeof the bluff. The others had now drawn back out of sight. A wounded horselay kicking on the slope. It was the one upon which Bob had been mounted. The huddled figure of a man, with head grotesquely twisted, sat astride aclump of brush. Another sprawled on the hillside, arms and legsoutflung. 

Below, in the sage not far from the willows, another body lay in thesand. This one moved. Bob could see the man trying to hitch himselftoward the shelter of the river bushes. Evidently he was badly wounded, for he made practically no progress. For a few minutes he would liestill, then try once more to crawl forward. 

The popping of guns had shifted farther to the right. Bob judged that therangers and soldiers were engaged with the Indians somewhere on theridge. Only a few desultory shots came from the camp. But he knew itwould be only a question of time till some Ute caught sight of thewounded man and picked him off as he lay helpless in the open. 

Bob did not know who the wounded man was. He might be Dud Hollister orTom Reeves. Or perhaps Blister Haines. Young Dillon sweated in agony. Histhroat was parched. He felt horribly sick and weak, was still shaking ina palsy of fear. 

It was every man for himself now, he reasoned in his terror. Perhaps hecould creep through the willows and escape up the river without beingseen. He began to edge slowly back. 

But that man crouched in the sunshine, tied by his wound to a spot wherethe Utes would certainly find him sooner or later, fascinated Bob's eyesand thoughts. Suppose he left him there--and found out too late that hehad deserted Dud, abandoning him to almost certain death. He could not dothat. It would not be human. What Dud would do in his place was not opento question. He would go out and get the man and drag him to the willows. But the danger of this appalled the cowpuncher. The Utes would get himsure if he did. Even if they did not hit him, he would be seen and laterstalked by the redskins. 

After all there was no sense in throwing away another life. Probably thewounded man would die anyhow. Every fellow had to think of himself at atime like this. It was not his fault the ranger was cut off and helpless. He was no more responsible for him than were any of the rest of theboys. 

But it would not do. Bob could not by any sophistry escape the dutythrust on him. The other boys were not here. He was. 

He groaned in desperation of spirit. He had to go and get the ranger whohad been shot. That was all there was to it. If he did not, he would be ayellow coyote. 

Out of the precarious safety of the willows he crept on hands and knees, still shaking in an ague of trepidation. Of such cover as there was heavailed himself. From one sagebush to another he ran, head and bodycrouched low. His last halt was back of some greasewood a dozen yardsfrom the ranger. 

"I'll get you into the willows if I can, " he called in a sibilantwhisper. "You bad hurt?"

The wounded man turned. "My laig's busted--two places. Plugged in theside too. "

Bob's heart sank. The face into which he looked was that of Jake Houck. If he had only known in time! But it was too late now. He had to finishwhat he had begun. He could not leave the fellow lying there. 

He crawled to Houck. The big man gave directions. "Better drag me, Ireckon. Go as easy as you can on that busted laig. "

Dillon took him beneath the arms and hauled him through the sand. Thewounded man set his teeth to keep back a groan. Very slowly andcarefully, an inch here, a foot there, Bob worked Houck's heavy bodybackward. It was a long business. A dozen times he stopped to select thenext leg of the journey. 

Beads of perspiration stood on Houck's forehead. He was in great pain, but he clenched his teeth and said nothing. Bob could not deny himgameness. Not a sound escaped his lips. He clung to his rifle even thougha free hand would greatly ease the jarring of the hurt leg. 

Back of a scrub cottonwood Bob rested for a moment. "Not far now, " hesaid. 

Houck's eyes measured the distance to the willows. "No, " he agreed. "Notfar. "

"Think maybe I could carry you, " Bob suggested. "Get you on myshoulder. "

"Might try, " the wounded man assented. "Laig hurts like sixty. "

Bob helped him to his feet and from there to his shoulder. He staggeredover the rough ground to the willows. Into these he pushed, stillcarrying Houck. As gently as he could he lowered the big fellow. 

"Got me as I came over the bluff, " the Brown's Park man explained. "I waslucky at that. The Utes made a good gather that time. Outa four of usthey collected two an' put me out of business. Howcome they not to getyou?"

"Shot my horse, " explained Bob. "I ducked into the willows. "

It was hot in the willows. They were a young growth and the trees wereclose. The sun beat down on the thicket of saplings and no breezepenetrated it. 

Houck panted. Already fever was beginning to burn him up. 

"Hotter'n hell with the lid on, " he grumbled. "Wisht I had some water. "He drew out a flask that still had two fingers of whiskey in it, but hehad resolution enough not to drink. This would not help him. "Reckon Ibetter not take it, " he said regretfully. 

Bob took the bandanna handkerchief from his throat and soaked one end ofit in the liquor. "Bathe yore head, " he advised. "It'll cool it fine. "

As the day grew older and the sun climbed the sky vault the heatincreased. No breath of air stirred. The wounded man had moments ofdelirium in which he moaned for water. 

There was water, cool and fresh, not fifty yards from them. He could hearthe rushing river plunging toward the Pacific, the gurgling of the streamas it dashed against boulders and swept into whirlpools. But between Boband that precious water lay a stretch of sandy wash which the Blancocovered when it was high. One venturing to cross this would be an easymark for sharpshooters from the camp. 

It seemed to him that the firing was now more distant. There was a chancethat none of the Utes were still in the camp. Fever was mounting inHouck. He was in much distress both from thirst and from the pain of thewounds. Bob shrank from the pitiful appeals of his high-pitched, delirious voice. The big fellow could stand what he must with set jawswhen he was sentient. His craving found voice in irrational moments whilehe had no control over his will. These were increasing in frequency andduration. 

Dillon picked up the flask. "Got to leave you a while, " he said. "Backsoon. "

The glassy eyes of Houck glared at him. His mind was wandering. "Torturin' me. Tha's what you're doin', you damned redskin, " hemuttered. 

"Going to get water, " explained Bob. 

"Tha's a lie. You got water there--in that bottle. Think I don't knowyore Apache ways?"

Bob crept to the edge of the willows. From the foliage he peered out. Nobody was in sight. He could still see a faint smoke rising from theIndian camp. But the firing was a quarter of a mile away, at least. Thebend of the river was between him and the combatants. 

Bob took his courage by the throat, drew a long breath, and ran for theriver. Just as he reached it a bullet splashed in the current almostwithin hand's reach. The cowpuncher stooped and took two hasty swallowsinto his dry mouth. He filled the bottle and soaked the bandanna in thecold water. A slug of lead spat at the sand close to his feet. A panicrose within him. He got up and turned to go. Another bullet struck a bigrock four paces from where he was standing. Bob scudded for the willows, his heart thumping wildly with terror. 

He plunged into the thicket, whipping himself with the bending saplingsin his headlong flight. Now that they had discovered him, would theIndians follow him to his hiding-place? Or would they wait till dusk andcreep up on him unseen? He wished he knew. 

The water and the cool, wet bandanna alleviated the misery of the woundedman. He shut his eyes, muttering incoherently. 

There was no longer any sound of firing. The long silence alarmed Bob. Was it possible that his friends had been driven off? Or that they hadretired from the field under the impression that all of the riders whohad plunged over the bluff had been killed?

This fear obsessed him. It rode him like an old man of the sea. He couldnot wait here till the Utes came to murder him and Houck. Down in thebottom of his heart he knew that he could not leave this enemy of his tothe fate that would befall him. The only thing to do was to go for helpat once. 

He took off his coat and put it under Houck's head. He moistened the hotbandanna for the burning forehead and poured the rest of the water downthe throat of the sick man. The rifle he left with Houck. It would onlyimpede him while he was crossing the mesa. 

None of us know what we can do till the test comes. Bob felt it wasphysically impossible for him to venture into the open again and try toreach his friends. He might at any instant run plumb into the Utes. Nevertheless he crept out from the willows into the sage desert. 

The popping of the guns had begun again. The battle seemed to be close tothe edge of the mesa round the bend of the river. Bob swung wide, climbing the bluff from the farther skirt of the willows. He reached themesa. 

From where he lay he could see that the whites held a ridge two hundredyards away. The Utes were apparently in the river valley. 

He moved forward warily, every sense abnormally keyed to service. A clumpof wild blackberries grew on the rim of the bluff. From this smokebillowed. Bullets began to zip past Bob. He legged it for the ridge, blind to everything but his desperate need to escape. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

"KEEP A-COMIN', RED HAID"

When the rangers and the militia stampeded after the Indian scout, DudHollister was examining the hoof of his mount. He swung instantly to thesaddle and touched his pony with the spur. It shot across the mesa on theoutskirts of the troop. Not impeded by riders in front, Dud reached thebluff above the river valley on the heels of the advance guard. He pulledup just in time to keep from plunging over. 

The Utes, under cover of the willow saplings, were concentrating a veryheavy fire on the bluff and slope below. Dud's first thought was that thetroops had been drawn into a trap. Every man who had been carried overthe edge of the mesa by the impetus of the charge was already unhorsed. Several were apparently dead. One was scudding for cover. 

Dud drew back promptly. He did not care to stand silhouetted against thesky-line for sharpshooters. Nobody had ever accused the Utes of beinggood shots, but at that distance they could hardly miss him if hestayed. 

The soldiers and rangers gathered in a small clump of cottonwoods. Harshaw read his boys the riot act. 

"Fine business, " he told them bitterly. "Every last one of you acted likehe was a tenderfoot. Ain't you ever seen a Ute before? Tryin' to collecthim so anxious, an' him only bait to lead you on. I reckon we better gohome an' let Major Sheahan's boys do this job. I'm plumb disgusted withyou. "

The range-riders looked at each other out of the corners of meek eyes. This rebuke was due them. They had been warned against letting themselvesbe drawn on without orders. 

"That fellow Houck he started it, " Big Bill suggested humbly by way ofdefense. 

"Were you drug into it? Did he rope you off yore horse an' take you alongwith him?" demanded Harshaw sarcastically. "Well, I hope you got yorelesson. How many did we lose?"

A roll-call showed four missing. Hollister felt a catch at the throatwhen his riding partner failed to report. Bob must be one of those whohad gone over the ledge. 

One of Sheahan's troopers on scout duty reported. "Indians making for agulch at the end of the willows, sir. Others swarming up into the bushesat the edge of the mesa. "

A cowpuncher familiar with the country volunteered information. "Gulchleads to that ridge over there. It's the highest point around here. "

"Then we'd better take the ridge, " Harshaw suggested to Sheahan. "Rightquick, too. "

The major agreed. 

They put the troop in motion. Another scout rode in. The Utes werehurrying as fast as they could to the rock-rim. Major Sheahan quickenedthe pace to a gallop. The Indians lying in the bushes fired at them asthey went. 

Tom Reeves went down, his horse shot under him. Dud pulled up, a hundredyards away. Out of the bushes braves poured like buzzing bees. Thedismounted man would be cut off. 

Hollister wheeled his cowpony in its tracks and went back. He slipped afoot from the stirrup and held it out as a foot-rest for Reeves. The Uteswhooped as they came on. The firing was very heavy. The pony, a youngone, danced wildly and made it impossible for Tom to swing up. 

Dud dismounted. The panicky horse backed away, eyes filled with terror. It rose into the air, trembling. Dud tried to coax it to good behavior. 

The moments were flying, bringing the Utes nearer every instant. 

"We gotta make a run for it, Dud, " his companion said hurriedly. "To thewillows over there. "

There was no choice. Hollister let go the bridle and ran. Scarcely fiftyyards behind them came the Utes. 

Even in their high-heeled boots the cowpunchers ran fast. Once within theshelter of the willows they turned and opened fire. This quite alteredthe situation. The foremost brave faltered in his pigeon-toed stride, stopped abruptly, and dived for the shelter of a sagebush. The othersveered off to the right. They disappeared into some blackberry bushes onthe edge of the mesa. Whether from here they continued to the valley thepunchers in the willows could not tell. 

"Some lucky getaway, " Dud panted. 

"Thought I was a goner sure when they plugged my bronc, " said Reeves. 

He took a careful shot at the sagebush behind which the Indian had takenrefuge. The Ute ran away limping. 

"Anyhow, that guy's got a souvenir to remember me by. Compliments of TomReeves, " grinned the owner of that name. 

"We've got to get back to the boys somehow. I reckon they're havin' quitea party on the ridge, " Dud said. 

The sound of brisk firing came across the mesa to them. It was evidentthat the whites and redskins had met on the ridge and were disputing forpossession of it. 

"My notion is we'd better stick around here for a while, " Reevesdemurred. "I kinda hate to hoof it acrost the flat an' be a target thewhole darned way. "

This seemed good to Hollister. The troopers seemed to be holding theirown. They had not been driven back. The smoke of their rifles showedalong the very summit of the rock-rim. The inference was that the Uteshad been forced to fall back. 

The two rangers lay in the willows for hours. The firing had died down, recommenced, and again ceased. Once there came the sound of shots fromthe right, down in the valley close by the river. 

"They're likely gettin' the fellow that wasn't killed when he went overthe bluff, " Dud suggested. "There ain't a thing we can do to help himeither. "

"That's it, I reckon. They're collectin' him now. Wonder which of theboys it is. "

Dud felt a twinge of conscience. There was nothing he could do to helpthe man hemmed in on the riverbank, but it hurt him to lie there withoutattempting aid. The ranger making the lone fight might be Bob Dillon, poor Bob who had to whip his courage to keep himself from playing theweakling. Dud hoped not. He did not like to think of his riding mate insuch desperate straits with no hope of escape. 

The battle on the ridge had begun again. Hollister and Reeves decided totry to rejoin their friends. From the north end of the willows they creptinto a small draw that led away from the river toward the hills beyondthe mesa. Both of them were experienced plainsmen. They knew how to makethe most of such cover as there was. As they moved through the sage, behind hillocks and along washes, they detoured to put as much distanceas possible between them and the Utes at the edge of the bench. 

But the last hundred yards had to be taken in the open. They did it underfire, on the run, with a dozen riflemen aiming at them from the fringe ofblackberry bushes that bordered the mesa. Up the ridge they wentpell-mell, Reeves limping the last fifty feet of the way. An almost spentbullet had struck him in the fleshy part of the lower leg. 

Hawks let out a cowboy yell at sight of them, jumped up, and pulled Duddown beside him among the boulders. 

"Never expected to see you lads again alive an' kickin' after you an' theUtes started that footrace. I'll bet neither one of you throwed down onyoreself when you was headin' for the willows. Gee, I'm plumb glad to seeyou. "

"We're right glad to be here, Buck, " acknowledged Dud. "What's new?"

"We got these birds goin', looks like. In about an hour now we'reallowin' to hop down into the gulch real sudden an' give 'em merryhell. "

Dud reported to Harshaw. The cattleman dropped a hand on his rider'sshoulder with a touch of affection. He was very fond of the gay youngfellow. 

"Thought they'd bumped you off, boy. Heap much glad to see you. What doyou know?"

"I reckon nothing that you don't. There was firin' down by the river. Looks like they found one o' the boys who went over the bluff. "

"An' there's a bunch of 'em strung out among the bushes close to the edgeof the mesa. Fifteen or twenty, would you think?"

"Must be that many, the way their bullets dropped round Tom an' me justnow. "

"Tom much hurt?"

"Flesh wound only--in the laig. "

Harshaw nodded. His mind was preoccupied with the problem before them. "The bulk of 'em are down in this gulch back of the ridge. We met 'em onthe summit and drove 'em back. I judge they've had a-plenty. We'll rout'em out soon now. "

A brisk fire went on steadily between the Utes in the gulch and thewhites on the ridge. Every man had found such cover as he could, but thenumbers on both sides made it impossible for all to remain wholly hidden. The casualties among the troopers had been, however, very light since thefirst disastrous rush over the bluff. 

Dud caught Harshaw's arm. "Look!" he cried, keenly excited. 

A man had emerged from the bushes and was running across the flat towardthe ridge. Dud and Tom had kept well away toward the foothills, not outof range of the Utes, but far enough distant to offer poor targets. Butthis man was running the gauntlet of a heavy fire close enough to be aneasy mark. Blanco valley settlers, expert marksmen from much big-gamehunting, would have dropped the runner before he had covered thirtyyards. But the Indians were armed with cheap trade guns and were at bestpoor shots. The runner kept coming. 

Those on the ridge watched him, their pulses quick, their nerves taut. For he was running a race with death. Every instant they expected to seehim fall. From the bushes jets of smoke puffed like toy balloonscontinuously. 

"Fire where you see the smoke, boys, " Harshaw shouted. 

The rangers and militia concentrated on the fringe of shrubbery. At leastthey could make it hot enough for the Indians to disturb their aims. 

"He's down!" groaned Hollister. 

He was, but in a second he was up once more, still running strong. He hadstumbled over a root. The sage was heavy here. This served as a partialscreen for the swiftly moving man. Every step now was carrying himfarther from the sharpshooters, bringing him closer to the ridge. 

"By Godfrey, he'll make it!" Harshaw cried. 

It began to look that way. The bullets were still falling all around him, but he was close to the foot of the ridge. 

Dud made a discovery. "It's Bob Dillon!" he shouted. Then, to the runner, with all his voice, "Keep a-comin', Red Haid!"

The hat had gone from the red head. As he climbed the slope the runnerwas laboring heavily. Dud ran down the hill to meet him, half a dozenothers at his heels, among them Blister. They caught the spent youthunder the arms and round the body. So he reached the crest. 

Blister's fat arms supported him as his body swayed. The wheezy voice ofthe justice trembled. "G-glory be, son. I 'most had heart f-failurewhilst you was hoofin' it over the mesa. Oh, boy! I'm g-glad to seeyou. "

Bob sat down and panted for breath. "I got to go--back again, " hewhispered from a dry throat. 

"What's that?" demanded Harshaw. "Back where?"

"To--to the river. I came to get help--for Houck. "

"Houck?"

"He's down there in the willows wounded. "

CHAPTER XXXIV

AN OBSTINATE MAN STANDS PAT

A moment of blank silence fell on the little group crouched among theboulders. Bob's statement that he had to go back through the firezone--to Houck--had fallen among them like a mental bombshell. 

Blister was the first to find his voice. "You been down there l-lookin'after him?"

"Yes. They hit him in the leg--twice. An' once in the side. He's outa hishead. I got him water from the river. "

"Was that when I heard shootin' down there?" Dud asked. 

"I reckon. "

"Well, I'll be d-dawg-goned!" Blister exclaimed. 

Of life's little ironies he had never seen a stranger example than this. It had fallen to Bob Dillon to look after his bitter enemy, to risk hislife for him, to traverse a battle-field under heavy fire in order to gethelp for him. His mind flashed back to the boy he had met less than ayear ago, a pallid, trembling weakling who had shriveled under the acidtest of danger. He had traveled a long way since then in self-conquest. 

"Houck was down in the open last I seen him, " Hawks said. "Did he crawlto the willows?"

"I kinda helped him, " Bob said, a little ashamed. 

"Hmp! An' now you think we'd ought to let two-three men get shot goingafter him across the mesa, " Harshaw said. "Nothin' doing. Not right awayanyhow. Houck's foolishness got him into the hole where he is. He'll haveto wait till we clean out this nest in the gulch. Soon as we've done thatwe'll go after him. "

"But the Utes will rush the willows, " Bob protested mildly. 

"Sorry, but he'll have to take his chance of that. Any of the rest of uswould in his place. You've done what you could, son. That lets you out. "

"No, I'm going back, " Bob said quietly. "I told him I would. I got togo. "

"That wouldn't be r-right sensible, would it?" asked Blister. "N-notright away anyhow. After we get those b-birds outa the blackberry bushes, time enough then for you to h-hit the back trail. "

"No, I promised. " There was in Bob's face a look Blister had never seenthere before, something hard and dogged and implacable. "My notion is forhalf a dozen of us to go on horses--swing round by the far edge of themesa. We can drop down into the valley an' pick Houck up if we'relucky. "

"And if you're not lucky?" Harshaw demanded. 

"Why, o' course we might have trouble. Got to take our chances on that. "

"They might wipe the whole bunch of you out. No, sir. I need my men righthere. This whole thing's comin' to a show-down right soon. Houck willhave to wait. "

"I got to go back, Mr. Harshaw, " Bob insisted. "I done promised him Iwould. "

"Looky here, boy. You'll do as you please, of course. But there's nosense in being bull-haided. How much do you figure you owe this JakeHouck? I never heard tell he was yore best friend. You got him into thewillows. You went to the river and brought him water. You ran a big riskcomin' here to get help for him. We'll go to him just as soon as it'ssafe. That ought to content you. "

Before Bob's mental vision there flashed a picture of a man in feverburning up for lack of water. He could not understand it himself. It wasnot reasonable, of course. But somehow Jake Houck had become his charge. He had to go through with the job. 

"I'm going back to him, " he said stubbornly. 

"Then you're a darn fool. He wouldn't go a step of the way for you. "

"Maybe not. That ain't the point. He needs me. Do I get a horse?"

"Yes, if you're bound an' determined to go, " Harshaw said. After amomentary hesitation he added: "And if any of the boys want to go alongthey can. I'm not hinderin' them. But my advice is for them to stickright here. "

Bob's eyes swept the little group round him. "Any one want to take achance? We'll snake Houck outa the willows an' make a getaway sure. "

"Or else you'll stay there with him permanent, " Harshaw contributed. "It's plumb foolishness, boys. Houck had his orders an' he broke awayfrom them deliberate. He'd ought to take what's comin'. "

Dud pleaded with Dillon. "If it was anybody but Houck, Bob, I'd trailalong with you. I sure would. But I can't see as there's any call for usto take such a big risk for him. He's got it in for us both. Said himselfhe was layin' for us. You stood by him to a fare-you-well. Ain't thatenough?"

Bob did not attempt to reason. He simply stated facts. "No, I got to goback, Dud. He's a mighty sick man, an' he needs me. The Utes are liableto find him any time. Maybe I could stand 'em off. "

"An' maybe you couldn't, " Blister said. "It's plumb s-suicide. "

Dillon looked at his fat friend with a faint, dreary smile. He did nothimself relish the task before him. "Thought you told me to be a wolf, tohop to it every chance I got to do some crazy thing. "

Blister hedged. "Oh, well, a f-fellow wants to have some sense. I neversee a good thing that couldn't be r-run into the ground. Far as I know, Inever told you to stand on the D. & R. G. Tracks an' try to stop theexpress with yore head. "

"I'll have to be going now, " Bob said. He turned to Harshaw. "Where'sthat bronc I get to carry me back?"

"Up there in the piñons. Dud, you see he gets a good one. I'm wishin' youluck, son. An' I'll say one thing right out in meetin'. You're a betterman than Lou Harshaw. " The cattleman's hand gripped that of Dillonfirmly. 

"Shucks! Tha's foolishness, " Bob murmured, embarrassed. "I'm scared stiffif you want to know. "

"I reckon that's why you're aimin' for to make a target of yorese'fagain, " Hawks suggested ironically. "Damn 'f I'd do it for the best manalive, let alone Jake Houck. No, sir. I'll go a reasonable way, but Iquit this side of suicide. I sure do. "

Over to the left rifles were still popping, but at this point of theridge the firing had temporarily died down. Bob Dillon was the center ofinterest. 

A second time his eye traveled over the group about him. "Last call forvolunteers, boys. Anybody want to take a ride?"

Blister found in that eye some compelling quality of leadership. "Dawg-gone you, I'll go, " his high falsetto piped. 

Bob shook his head. "Not you, Blister. You're too fat. We're liable tohave to travel fast. "

Nobody else offered himself as a sacrifice. There were men present whowould have taken a chance for a friend, but they would not do it forHouck. 

Dud went with Bob to the piñons. While Dillon saddled one horse, Hollister put the bridle on a second. 

"What's that for?" Bob asked. 

"Oh, I'm soft in the haid, " Dud grunted. "Gonna trail along. I'll tellyou right now I ain't lost Houck any, but if you're set on this foolbusiness, why, I'll take a whirl with you. "

"Good old Dud, " Bob beamed. "I'll bet we get away with it fine. "

"Crazy old Dud, " the owner of the name grumbled. "I'll bet we get ourtopknots scalped. "

They rode down from the rim-rock, bearing to the right, as far away fromthe river as possible. The Utes in the blackberry fringe caught sight ofthem and concentrated their fire on the galloping horsemen. Presently theriders dipped for a minute behind a swell of ground. 

"A heap more comfortable ridin' here, " Dud said, easing his horse for afew moments to a slower pace. "I never did know before why the good Lordmade so much of this country stand up on end, but if I get outa this holeI'll not kick at travelin' over hills so frequent. They sure got theiruses when Injuns are pluggin' at you. "

They made as wide a circuit as the foothills would allow. At times theywere under a brisk fire as they cantered through the sage. This increasedwhen they swung across the mesa toward the river. Fortunately they werenow almost out of range. 

Riding along the edge of the bluff, they found a place where theirsure-footed cowponies could slide and scramble down. In the valley, asthey dashed across to the willows where Bob had left Houck, they wereagain under fire. Even after they had plunged into the thicket ofsaplings they could hear bullets zipping through the foliage to right andleft. 

The glazed eyes in Houck's flushed face did not recognize the punchers. Defiance glowered in his stare. 

"Where'd you get the notion, you red devils, that Jake Houck is aquitter? Torment me, will you? Burn me up with thirst, eh? Go to it an'see. "

Bob took a step or two toward the wounded man. "Don't you know me, Houck?We've come to look after you. This is Dud Hollister. You know him. "

"What if I did gun him?" the high-pitched voice maundered on. "Tried tosteal my bronc, he did, an' I wouldn't stand for it a minute. .. . Allright. Light yore fires. Burn me up, you hounds of Hades. I'm not askin'no favors. Not none a-tall. "

The big man's hand groped at his belt. Brown fingers closed on the buttof a forty-five. Instantly both rescuers were galvanized to life. Dud'sfoot scraped into the air a cloud of sand and dust as Bob dived forward. He plunged at Houck a fraction of a second behind his friend. 

Into the blue sky a bullet went singing. Bob had been in time to knockthe barrel of the revolver up with his outflung hand. 

CHAPTER XXXV

THREE IN A PIT

Wounded though he was, Houck managed to make a good deal of trouble forthe punchers before they pinned him down and took the forty-five fromhim. His great strength was still at command, and he had the advantagethat neither of his rescuers wanted to injure him during the struggle. They thrashed over the ground, arms and legs outflung wildly. Houck gaveup only when his vigor collapsed. 

His surrender was complete. He lay weak and panting, bleeding fromreopened wounds, for the time as helpless and submissive as a child. 

From a canteen they gave him water. Afterward they washed and tied up thewounds, bathed the fevered face, and kept the mosquitoes from him byfanning them away. 

"Expect I'd better take a pasear an' see where Mr. Ute's at, " Dud said. "He's liable to drap in onexpected while we're not lookin'--several ofhim, huntin' for souvenirs in the scalp line for to decorate his beltwith. "

From the little opening he crept into the thicket of saplings anddisappeared. Bob waited beside the delirious man. His nerves were keyedto a high tension. For all he knew the beadlike eyes of four or fivesharpshooters might be peering at him from the jungle. 

The sound of a shot startled him. It came from the direction in which Dudhad gone. Had he been killed? Or wounded? Bob could not remain longerwhere he was. He too crept into the willows, following as well as hecould the path of Hollister. 

There came to him presently the faint crackle of twigs. Some one orsomething was moving in the bosk. He lay still, heart thumping violently. The sound ceased, began again. 

Bob's trembling hand held a revolver pointed in the direction of thesnapping branches. The willows moved, opened up, and a blond, curly headappeared. 

Bob's breath was expelled in a long sigh of relief. "Wow! I'm glad to seeyou. Heard that shot an' thought maybe they'd got you. "

"Not so you can notice it, " Dud replied cheerfully. "But they're allround us. I took a crack at one inquisitive buck who had notions ofcollectin' me. He ce'tainly hit the dust sudden as he vamosed. "

"What'll we do?"

"I found a kinda buffalo wallow in the willows. We'll move in on a leasean' sit tight till Harshaw an' the boys show up. "

They carried and dragged Houck through the thicket to the saucer-shapedopening Hollister had discovered. The edges of this rose somewhat abovethe surrounding ground. Using their spurs to dig with, the cowpunchersdeepened the hollow and packed the loose dirt around the rim in order toheighten the rampart. 

From a distance came the sound of heavy, rapid firing, of far, faintyells. 

"The boys are attackin' the gulch, " Dud guessed. "Sounds like they mightbe makin' a clean-up too. "

It was three o'clock by Bob's big silver watch. Heat waves wereshimmering in the hollow and mosquitoes singing. Occasionally Houck'svoice rose in delirious excitement. Sometimes he thought the Utes weretorturing him. Again he lived over scenes in the past. Snatches of babblecarried back to the days of his turbulent youth when all men's cattlewere his. In the mutterings born of a sick brain Bob heard presently thename of June. 

". .. Tell you I've took a fancy to you. Tell you Jake Houck gets what hewants. No sense you rarin' around, June. I'm yore man. .. . Mine, girl. Don't you ever forget it. Mine for keeps. .. . Use that gun, damn you, orcrawl into a hole. I'm takin' yore wife from you. Speak yore piece. Tellher to go with me. Ha! Ha! Ha!"

The firing came nearer. 

Again Dud guessed what was taking place. "They've got the Utes outa thegulch an' are drivin' them down the valley. Right soon they're liable tolight on us hard. Depends on how much the boys are pressin' them. "

They had two rifles and four revolvers, for Houck had lately become atwo-gun man. These they examined carefully to make sure they were inorder. The defenders crouched back to back in the pit, each of themsearching the thicket for an angle of one hundred and eighty degrees. 

The sound of the battle died down. Evidently the pursuers were out ofcontact with the natives. 

"Don't like that, " Dud said. "If the Utes have time they'll try to pickus up as they're passin'. "

Bob fired. 

"See one?" asked his friend. 

"Think so. Something moved. Down in that hollow. He's outa sight now. "

"They've got us located, then. Old Man Trouble headed this way. Somethingliable to start. Soon now. "

The minutes dragged. Bob's eyes blurred from the intensity with which hewatched. 

A bullet struck the edge of the pit. Bob ducked involuntarily. Presentlythere was a second shot--and a third. 

"They're gettin' warm, " Dud said. 

He and Bob fired at the smoke puffs, growing now more frequent. Both ofthem knew it would be only a short time till one of them was hit unlesstheir friends came to the rescue. Spurts of sand flew every few moments. 

There was another undesirable prospect. The Utes might charge and capturethe pit, wiping out the defenders. To prevent this the cowpunchers keptup as lively a fire as possible. 

From down the valley came the sound of scattered shots and yells. Dudswung his hat in glee. 

"Good boys! They're comin' in on the rear. Hi yi yippy yi!"

Firing began again on the other side. The Utes were caught between therangers to the left and the soldiers to the right. Bob could see thembreaking through the willows toward the river. It was an easy guess thattheir horses were bunched here and that they would be forced to cross thestream to escape. 

Five minutes later Harshaw broke through the saplings to the pit. "Eitherof you boys hurt?" he demanded anxiously. 

"Not a scratch on either of us, " Dud reported. 

The boss of the Slash Lazy D wrung their hands. "By Godfrey! I'm plumbpleased. Couldn't get it outa my head that they'd got you lads. How'sHouck?"

"He's right sick. Doc had ought to look after him soon. He's had onemighty bad day of it. "

Houck was carried on a blanket to the riverbank, where camp was beingmade for the night. The Utes had been routed. It was estimated that tenor twelve of them had been killed, though the number could not beverified, as Indians always if possible carry away their dead. For thepresent, at least, no further pursuit of them was feasible. 

Dr. Tuckerman dressed the wounds of the Brown's Park man and looked afterthe others who had been hurt. All told, the whites had lost four killed. Five were wounded more or less seriously. 

The wagons had been left on the mesa three miles away. Houck was takenhere next day on a stretcher made of a blanket tied to willow poles. Thebodies of the dead were also removed. 

Two days later the rangers reached Bear Cat. They had left the soldiersto complete the task of rounding up the Utes and taking them back to thereservation. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

A HERO IS EMBARRASSED

Following the Ute War, as it came to be called, there was a period ofreadjustment on the Rio Blanco. The whites had driven off the horses andthe stock of the Indians. Two half-grown boys appropriated a flock ofseveral thousand sheep belonging to the Indians and took them to GlenwoodSprings. On the way they sold the sheep right and left. The asking pricewas a dollar. The selling price was twenty-five cents, a watermelon, aslice of pie, or a jack-knife with a broken blade. 

The difficulties that ensued had to be settled. To get a betterunderstanding of the situation the Governor of the State and a general ofthe United States Army with their staffs visited the White River country. While in Bear Cat they put up at the hotel. 

Mollie did a land-office business, but she had no time to rest day ornight. Passing through the office during the rush of the dinner hour, shecaught sight of Blister Haines sprawled on two chairs. He was talkingwith Bob Dillon. 

"Hear you done quit the Slash Lazy D outfit. What's the idee?" he said. 

"Nothin' in ridin', " Bob told him. "A fellow had ought to get a piece ofland on the river an' run some cattle of his own. Me an' Dud aim to dothat. "

"Hmp! An' meanwhile?"

"We're rip-rappin' the river for old man Wilson. "[4]

Blister was pleased, but he did not say so. "Takes a good man to start ona s-shoestring an' make it go with cattle. "

"That's why we're going into it, " Bob modestly explained. 

Mollie broke in. "What are you boys loafin' here for when I need help inthe dining-room? Can either of you sling hash?"

The fat man derricked himself out of the chairs. "We can. L-lead us tothe job, ma'am. "

So it happened that Blister, in a white apron, presently stood before theGovernor ready to take orders. The table was strewn with used dishes andfood, débris left there by previous diners. The amateur waiter was notsure whether the Governor and his staff had eaten or were ready to eat. 

"D-do you want a r-reloadin' outfit?" he asked. 

The general, seated beside the Governor, had lived his life in the East. He stared at Blister in surprise, for at a council held only an hourbefore this ample waiter had been the chief spokesman in behalf of fairplay to the Indians. He decided that the dignified thing to do was tofail to recognize the man. 

Blister leaned toward the Governor and whispered confidentially. "Say, Gov, take my tip an' try one o' these here steaks. They ain't from dogystock. "

The Governor had been a cattleman himself. The free-and-easy ways of theWest did not disturb him. "Go you once, Blister, " he assented. 

The waiter turned beaming on the officer. His fat hand rested on thebraided shoulder. "How about you, Gen? Does that go d-double?"

Upon Blister was turned the cold, hard eye of West Point. "I'll take atenderloin steak, sir, done medium. "

"You'll sure find it'll s-stick to yore ribs, " Blister said cheerfully. 

Carrying a tray full of dishes, Bob went into the kitchen choking downhis mirth. 

"Blister's liable to be shot at daybreak. He's lessie-majesting the U. S. Army. "

Chung Lung shuffled to the door and peered through. Internal mirthstruggled with his habitual gravity. "Gleat smoke, Blister spill cupcloffee on general. "

This fortunately turned out to be an exaggeration. Blister, in earnestconversation with himself, had merely overturned a half-filled cup on thetable in the course of one of his gestures. 

Mollie retired him from service. 

Alone with Bob for a moment in the kitchen, June whispered to himhurriedly. "Before you an' Dud go away I want to see you a minute. "

"Want to see me an' Dud?" he asked. 

She flashed a look of shy reproach at him. "No, not Dud--you. "

Bob stayed to help wipe the dishes. It was a job at which he had beenadept in the old days when he flunkied for the telephone outfit. Afterward he and June slipped out of the back door and walked down to theriver. 

June had rehearsed exactly what she meant to say to him, but now that themoment had arrived it did not seem so easy. He might mistake herfriendliness. He might think there was some unexpressed motive in theback of her mind, that she was trying to hold him to the compact made inBlister Haines's office a year ago. It would be hateful if he thoughtthat. But she had to risk it if their comradeship was going to meananything. When folks were friends they helped each other, didn't they?Told each other how glad they were when any piece of good luck came. Andwhat had come to Bob Dillon was more than good luck. It was a bit ofsplendid achievement that made her generous blood sing. 

This was all very well, but as they moved under the cottonwoods acrossthe grass tessellated with sunshine and shadow, the fact of sex thrustitself up and embarrassed her. She resented this, was impatient at it, yet could not escape it. Beneath the dusky eyes a wave of color creptinto the dark cheeks. 

Though they walked in silence, Bob did not guess her discomposure. Asclean of line as a boy, she carried herself resiliently. He thought herbeautiful as a wild flower. The lift and tender curve of the chin, theswell of the forearms above the small brown hands that had done so muchhard work so competently, filled him with a strange delight. She hademerged from the awkwardness and heaviness of the hoydenish age. It wasdifficult for him to identify her with the Cinderella of Piceance Creekexcept by the eager flash of the eyes in those moments when her spiritseemed to be rushing toward him. 

They stood on the bank above the edge of the ford. June looked down intothe tumbling water. Bob waited for her to speak. He had achieved acapacity for silence and had learned the strength of it. 

Presently June lifted her eyes to his. "Dud says you an' he are going totake up preëmptions and run cattle of your own, " she began. 

"Yes. Harshaw's going to stake us. We'll divide the increase. "

"I'm glad. Dud ought to quit going rippity-cut every which way. No usehis wastin' five or six years before he gets started for himself. "

"No, " Bob assented. 

"You're steadier than he is. You'll hold him down. "

Bob came to time loyally. "Dud's all right. You'll find him there like arock when you need him. Best fellow in all this White River country. "

Her shining eyes sent a stab of pain through his heart. She was smilingat him queerly. "One of the best, " she said. 

"Stay with you to a fare-you-well, " he went on. "If I knew a girl--if Ihad a sister--well, I'd sure trust her to Dud Hollister. All wool an' ayard wide that boy is. "

"Yes, " June murmured. 

"Game as they make 'em. Know where he's at every turn of the road. I'dce'tainly back his play to a finish. "

"I know you would. "

"Best old pal a fellow ever had. "

"It's really a pity you haven't a sister, " she teased. 

Bob guessed that June had brought him here to talk about Dud. He did, tothe exclusion of all other topics. The girl listened gravely andpatiently, but imps of mischief were kicking up their heels in her eyes. 

"You give him a good recommendation, " she said at last. "How about hisfriend?"

"Tom Reeves?"

"No, Bob Dillon. " Her dark eyes met his fairly. "Oh, Bob, I'm _so_glad. "

He was suddenly flooded with self-consciousness. "About us preëmptin'?"he asked. 

"No. About you being the hero of the campaign. "

The ranger was miserably happy. He was ashamed to have the thing he haddone dragged into the light, embarrassed to hear her use so casually aword that made him acutely uncomfortable. Yet he would not for the worldhave missed the queer little thrills that raced through him. 

"That's plumb foolishness, " he said. 

"Yes, it is--not. Think I haven't heard all about it? How you draggedJake Houck into the willows right spang from among the Utes? How you wentto the river an' got him water? How you went for help when everybodythought you'd be killed? An' how you shamed Dud into going back with you?I made Mr. Harshaw tell me all he knew--and Dud too. He said--Mr. Harshawsaid--"

Bob interrupted this eager attack. "I'll tell you how it was, June. WhenI saw Houck lying out there with a busted leg I didn't know who hewas--thought maybe it was Dud. So I had to go an' get him. If I'd knownit was Houck--"

"You knew it was Houck before you dragged him back, didn't you?" shecharged. "You knew it when you went to the river to get him water?"

"Truth is, I was scared so I shook, " he confessed humbly. "But when afellow's sufferin' like Jake Houck was--"

"Even your enemy. "

"Oh, well, enemies don't count when you're fightin' Utes together. I hadto look after him--couldn't duck it. Different with Dud when he rode backto get Tom Reeves. Did you hear about that?"

She put a damper on the sudden enthusiasm that lilted into his voice. "Yes, I heard about that, " she said dryly. "But we're talking of anotherman now. You've got to stand there an' take it, Bob. It won't last but aminute anyhow. I never was so tickled in my life before. When I thoughtof all you've suffered an' gone through, an' how now you've stopped thetongues of all the folks who jeered at you, I went to my room and criedlike a little girl. You'll understand, won't you? I had to tell you thisbecause we've promised to be friends. Oh, I am _so_ glad for you, Bob. "

He swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. "Yes, I'll understand, June. It--it was awful nice of you to tell me. I reckon you ought to hateme, the way I treated you. Most girls would. "

She flashed a quick look at his flaming face. His embarrassment relievedhers. 

"As if _you_ knew what most girls would think, " she derided. Neverthelessshe shifted the conversation to grounds less personal and dangerous. "Nowyou can tell me some more about that Dud you're always braggin' of. "

Bob did not know as he talked of his friend that June found what he saidan interpretation of Robert Dillon rather than Dudley Hollister. 

-----

 [4] Piling up brush to protect the bank from being washed away. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

A RESPONSIBLE CITIZEN

Dillon and Hollister were lounging on the bank of Elk Creek through theheat of the day. They had been chasing a jack-rabbit across the mesa forsport. Their broncos were now grazing close at hand. 

"Ever notice how a jack-rabbit jumps high when it's crowded?" Dud askedidly. 

Bob nodded. "Like a deer. Crowd one an' he gets to jumpin' high. 'D yousee that jack turn a somersault just as I threw my rope the last time?"

Dud's keen eyes ranged the landscape. They were on the edge of the mesawhere it dipped down into the valley. Since he and Bob had decided topreëmpt a quarter-section each, it had become a habit of his to study thelocalities over which they rode. 

"Country looks good round here, " he suggested. 

"Yes, " agreed his friend. 

"What we lookin' for anyhow, Bob?"

"Wood, grass, and water. "

"Well, they're right here, ain't they?"

Bob had been thinking the same thing himself. They saddled and quarteredover the ground carefully. There was a wide stretch of meadow close tothe junction of Elk Creek and the river. Upon part of it a growth ofyoung willow had sprung up. But he judged that there was nearly onehundred and fifty acres of prairie. This would need no clearing. Richwild grass already covered it luxuriously. For their first crop theycould cut the native hay. Then they could sow timothy. There would be noneed to plough the meadow. The seed could be disked in. Probably the landnever would need ploughing, for it was a soft black loam. 

"How about roads?" Bob asked. "The old-timers claim we'll never get roadshere. "

"Some one's going to take up all this river land mighty soon. That's acinch. An' the roads will come right soon after the settlers. Fact is, we've got to jump if we're going to take up land on the river an' get achoice location. "

"My notion too, " agreed Bob. "We'd better get a surveyor out here thisweek. "

They did. Inside of a month they had filed papers at the land office, built cabins, and moved their few possessions to the claims. Their houseswere made of logs mud-chinked, with dirt floors and shake roofs insteadof the usual flat dirt ones. They expected later to whipsaw lumber forthe floors. A huge fireplace in one end of each cabin was used forcooking as well as for heat until such time as they could get stoves. Already they planned a garden, and in the evenings were as likely to talkof turnips, beets, peas, beans, and potatoes as of the new Hereford bullsLarson and Harshaw were importing from Denver. 

For the handwriting was on the wall. Cattlemen must breed up or go out ofbusiness. The old dogy would not do any longer. Already Utah stock wasdisplacing the poor southern longhorns. Soon these, too, would belong tothe past. Dud and Bob had vision enough to see this and they were makingplans to get a near-pedigreed bull. 

Dud sighed in reminiscent appreciation of the old days that werevanishing. He might have been seventy-two instead of twenty-two comingFebruary. Behind him lay apparently all his golden youth. 

"We got to adopt ourselves to new ways, old Sure-Shot, " he ruminatedaloud. "Got to quit hellin' around an' raisin' Cain. Leastways I have. You never did do any o' that. Yes, sir, I got to be a responsiblecitizen. "

The partner of the responsible citizen leaned back in a reclining chairwhich he had made from a plank sawed into five parts that were nailedtogether at angles. 

"You'll be raisin' little towheads right soon, " he said through a cloudof smoke. 

"No, sir. Not me. Not Dud Hollister. I can boss my own se'f for a spellyet, " the fair-haired youth protested vehemently. "When I said we got toadopt ourselves, I was thinkin' of barb-wire fences an' timothy hay. 'Sall right to let the dogies rough through the winter an' hunt the gulcheswhen the storms come. But it won't do with stock that's bred up. Harshawlost close to forty per cent of his cattle three years ago. It sure putsome crimp in him. He was hit hard again last winter. You know that. Sayhe'd had valuable stock. Why, it would put him outa business. Surewould. "

"Yes, " admitted Bob. "There's a schoolmarm down at Meeker was askin' meabout you. You know her--that snappin'-eyed brunette. Wanted to know allabout yore claim, an' was it a good one, an' didn't I think Mr. Hollistera perfect gentleman, an'--"

Dud snatched a blanket from the bunk and smothered the red head. Theyclinched, rolled on the floor, and kicked over the chair and stool. Presently they emerged from battle feeling happier. 

"No, we got to feed. Tha's the new law an' the gospel of the range, " Dudcontinued. "Got to keep our cattle under fence in winter an' look after'em right. Cattle-raisin' as a gamble will be a losing bet right soon. It's a business now. Am I right?"

"Sounds reasonable to me, Dud. "

Bob's face was grave, but he smiled inwardly. The doctrine that hisfriend had just been expounding was not new to him. He had urged it onDud during many a ride and at more than one night camp, had pointed tothe examples of Larson, Harshaw, and the other old-timers. Hollister wasa happy-go-lucky youth. The old hard-riding cattle days suited himbetter. But he, too, had been forced at last to see the logic of thesituation. Now, with all the ardor of a convert, he was urging his viewon a partner who did not need to be convinced. 

Dillon knew that stock-raising was entering upon a new phase, that theold loose range system must give way to better care, attention tobreeding, and close business judgment. The cattleman who stuck to the oldways would not survive. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII

BEAR CAT ASLEEP

Bear Cat basked in the mellow warmth of Indian summer. Peace brooded overthe valley, a slumberous and placid drowsiness. Outside Platt & Fortner'sstore big freight wagons stood close to the sidewalk. They had just comein from their long overland journey and had not yet been unloaded. AConcord stage went its dusty way down the street headed for Newcastle. Otherwise there was little evidence of activity. 

It was about ten o'clock in the morning. The saloons and gambling-houseswere almost deserted. The brisk business of the night had died down. Evena poker player and a faro dealer must sleep. 

Main Street was in a coma. A dog lazily poked a none too inquisitive noseinto its epidermis in a languid search for fleas. Past the dog went abarefoot urchin into a store for two pounds of eight-penny nails. 

Three horsemen appeared at the end of the street and moved down it at thejog-trot which is the road gait of the cowpuncher. They dismounted nearthe back door of Platt & Fortner's and flung the bridle reins over thewheel spokes of the big freight wagons with the high sides. They did nottie the reins even in slip knots. 

The riders stood for a moment talking in low voices before theyseparated. One went into Dolan's. He was a good-looking young fellowabout twenty. A second wandered into the hotel saloon. He was notgood-looking and was twice twenty. The third strolled past the bank, glanced in, turned, and walked past it a second time. He straddled, withjingling spurs, into the big store. 

Tom Platt nodded casually to him. "Anything I can do for you, Houck?"

"I reckon, " Houck grunted. 

Platt noticed that he limped slightly. He had no feeling of friendlinesstoward Houck, but common civility made him inquire how the wounded legwas doing. After the Indian campaign the Brown's Park man had gone toMeeker for his convalescence. That had been two months since. 

"'S all right, " growled the big fellow. 

"Good. Thought you kinda favored it a little when you walked. "

The Brown's Park man bought a plug of chewing tobacco and a shirt. 

"Guess the soldiers got the Utes corralled all right by this time. Hearanything new about that?" Platt asked by way of making conversation. 

"No, " Houck replied shortly. "Got an empty gunnysack I could have?"

"Sure. " The storekeeper found one and a string with which to tie it. 

"I'll take a slab of side meat an' a pound of ground coffee, " the big mangrowled. 

He made other purchases, --flour, corn meal, beans, and canned tomatoes. These he put in the gunnysack, tying the open end. Out of the side doorhe went to the horses standing by the big freight wagons. The contents ofthe sack he transferred to saddle-bags. 

Then, without any apparent doubt as to what he was going to do next, hedropped into another store, one which specialized in guns and ammunition, though it, too, sold general supplies. He bought cartridges, both for thetwo forty-fives and for the rifle he carried. These he actually tested inhis weapons, to make sure they fitted easily. 

The proprietor attempted a pleasantry. "You're kinda garnished withweapons, stranger. Not aimin' to hold up the town, are you?"

The amiable laugh died away. The wall-eyed stranger was looking at him inbleak silence. Not an especially timid man, the owner of the place felt achill run down his spine. That stare carried defiance, an unvoicedthreat. Later, the storekeeper made of it a stock part of his story ofthe day's events. 

"When the stranger gave me that look of his I knew right away somethingwas doing. 'Course I didn't know what. I'll not claim I did, but I wassure there'd be a job for the coroner before night. Blister come into thestore just after he left. I said to him, 'Who's that big black guy?' Hesays, 'Jake Houck. ' 'Well, ' I says, 'Jake Houck is sure up to somedeviltry. '"

It is easy to be a prophet after the event. When Houck jingled out of thestore and along the sidewalk to the hotel, none of the peaceful citizenshe met guessed what he had in mind. None of them saw the signal whichpassed between him and the young fellow who had just come out of Dolan's. This was not a gesture. No words were spoken, but a message went from oneto the other and back. The young puncher disappeared again into Dolan's. 

Afterward, when Bear Cat began to assemble its recollections of theevents prior to the dramatic climax, it was surprising how little thatwas authentic could be recalled. Probably a score of people notedcasually the three strangers. Houck was recognized by three or four, Bandy Walker by at least one. The six-foot youngster with them was knownby nobody who saw him. It was learned later that he had never been in thetown before. The accounts of how the three spent the hour between ten andeleven are confusing. If they met during that time it was only for amoment or two while passing. But it is certain that Bandy Walker couldnot have been both in the blacksmith shop and at Platt & Fortner's fiveminutes before eleven. The chances are that some of the town people, anxious to have even a small part in the drama, mixed in their mindsthese strangers with others who had ridden in. 

Bob Dillon and Dud Hollister dropped from their saddles in front of thehotel at just eleven o'clock. They had ridden thirty miles and stood fora moment stretching the cramp out of their muscles. 

Dud spoke, nodding his head to the right. "Look what's here, Sure-Shot. Yore friend Bandy--old, tried, an' true. "

Walker was trailing his high-heeled boots through the dust across thestreet from Dolan's toward the big store. If he saw Bob he gave no signof knowing him. 

The two friends passed into the hotel. They performed the usual rites ofinternal and external ablutions. They returned to the bar, hooked theirheels, and swapped with Mike the news of the day. 

"Hear Larson's bought the K T brand. Anything to it?" asked Dud. 

"Paid seven thousand down, time on the balance, " Mike said. "How you ladsmakin' it on Elk?"

"Fine. We got the best preëmptions on the river. Plenty of good grass, wood an' water handy, a first-class summer range. It's an A1 layout, looks like. "

"At the end of nowhere, I reckon, " Mike grinned. 

"The best steers are on the edge of the herd, " Dud retorted cheerfully. "It's that way with ranches too. A fellow couldn't raise much of a herdin Denver, could he?"

A sound like the explosion of a distant firecracker reached them. It wasfollowed by a second. 

It is strange what a difference there is between the report of one shotand another. A riotous cowpuncher bangs away into the air to stress thefact that he is a live one on the howl. Nobody pays the least attention. A bullet flies from a revolver barrel winged with death. Men at theroulette wheel straighten up to listen. The poker game is automaticallysuspended, a hand half dealt. By some kind of telepathy the players knowthat explosion carries deadly menace. 

So now the conversation died. No other sound came, but the two cattlemenand the bartender were keyed to tense alertness. They had sloughedinstantly the easy indolence of casual talk. 

There came the slap of running footsteps on the sidewalk. A voice calledin excitement, "They've killed Ferril. "

The eyes of the Elk Creek ranchers met. They knew now what was takingplace. Ferril was cashier of the Bear Cat bank. 

CHAPTER XXXIX

BEAR CAT AWAKE

At exactly eleven o'clock Houck, Bandy Walker, and the big youngcowpuncher who had ridden into town with them met at the corner of one ofthe freight wagons. Houck talked, the others listened, except for acomment or two. A cattleman passing them on his way to the bank recalledafterward that the low voice of the Brown's Park man was deadly serious. 

The two big men walked into the bank. Bandy stayed with the horses. Inthe building, not counting the cashier and his assistant, were two orthree patrons of the institution. One was Sturgis, a round little man whohad recently started a drug-store in Bear Cat. He was talking to theassistant cashier. The cattleman was arranging with Ferril for a loan. 

The attention of the cattleman drifted from the business in hand. "Carryin' a good deal of hardware, ain't they, Gus?"

Ferril smiled. "Most of the boys are quittin' that foolishness, but someof 'em can't get it out of their heads that they look big when they'regun-toters. Kind of a kid business, looks to me. "

The eyes of the cattleman rested on Houck. "I wouldn't call that bigblack fellow a kid. Who is he?"

"Don't know. Reckon we're due to find out. He's breakin' away from theother fellow and movin' this way. "

Houck observed that the big cowpuncher was nervous. The hand hitched inthe sagging belt was trembling. 

"Don't weaken, Dave, " he said in a whisper out of the corner of hismouth. "We'll be outa town in ten minutes. "

"Sure, " agreed the other in a hoarse murmur. 

Houck sauntered to the cage. This was a recent importation from Denver. Bear Cat was proud of it as an evidence of progress. It gave the bankquite a metropolitan air. 

He stood behind the cattleman, the wall at his back so that his broadshoulders brushed it. Jake had no intention of letting any one get in hisrear. 

"Stick yore hands up!" he ordered roughly. 

The cattleman did not turn. His hands went up instantly. A half a secondlater those of the startled cashier lifted toward the ceiling. 

The assistant made a bad mistake. He dived for the revolver in the deskclose at hand. 

Houck fired. The bank clerk dropped. 

That shot sent panic through the heart of Sturgis. He bolted for the sidedoor. A second shot from Houck's weapon did not stop him. A moment more, and he was on the street racing to spread the alarm. 

The leader of the bank robbers swung round on Ferril. His voice washarsh, menacing. He knew that every moment now counted. From under hiscoat he had drawn a gunnysack. 

"The bank money--quick. No silver--gold an' any bills you've got. "

Ferril opened the safe. He stuffed into the sack both loose and packedgold. He had a few bills, not many, for in the West paper money was thenused very little. 

"No monkey business, " snarled Houck after he had stood up against theopposite wall the cattleman and the depositor who chanced to be in thebank. "This all you got? Speak up, or I'll drill you. "

The cashier hesitated, but the ominous hollow eye into which he lookedwas persuasive. He opened an inner compartment lined with bags of gold. These he thrust into the gunnysack. 

The robber named Dave tied with shaking fingers the loose end of thesack. 

"Time to go, " announced Houck grimly. "You're goin' with us far as ourhorses--all of you. We ain't lookin' for to be bushwhacked. "

He lined up the bodyguard in front and on each side of himself and hisaccomplice. Against the back of the cattleman he pushed the end of therevolver barrel. 

"Lead the way, " he ordered with an oath. 

Houck had heard the sound of running feet along the street. He knew itwas more than likely that there would be a fight before he and his mengot out of town. This was not in his reckoning. The shots fired insidethe bank had been outside his calculations. They had been made necessaryonly by the action of the teller. Jake's plan had been to do the jobswiftly and silently, to get out of town before word of what had takenplace reached the citizens. He had chosen Bear Cat as the scene of therobbery because there was always plenty of money in the bank, because heowed its people a grudge, and because it was so far from a railroad. 

As he had outlined the hold-up to his fellows in crime, it had lookedlike a moderately safe enterprise. But he realized now that he hadprobably led them into a trap. Nearly every man in Bear Cat was abig-game hunter. This meant that they were dead shots. 

Houck knew that it would be a near thing if his party got away in time. Aless resolute man would have dropped the whole thing after the alarm hadbeen given and ridden away at once. But he was no quitter. So he wasseeing it out. 

The cattleman led the procession through the side door into the street. 

Sunshine warm and mellow still bathed the street, just as it had done tenminutes earlier. But there was a difference. Dave felt a shiver run downhis spine. 

From the horses Bandy barked a warning. "Hurry, Jake, for God's sake. They're all round us. "

CHAPTER XL

BIG-GAME HUNTERS AT WORK

Bob and his partner did not rush out of the hotel instantly to get intothe fray. They did what a score of other able-bodied men of Bear Cat weredoing--went in search of adequate weapons with which to oppose the bankrobbers. Bear Cat was probably the best-equipped town in the country tomeet a sudden emergency of this kind. In every house, behind the door orhanging on the wall, was a rifle used to kill big game. In every housewas at least one man who knew how to handle that rifle. All he had to dowas to pick up the weapon, load it, and step into the street. 

June was in the kitchen with Chung Lung. The Reverend Melancthon Browninghad just collected two dollars from Chung for the foreign missionaryfund. Usually the cook was a cheerful giver, but this morning he wasgrumbling a little. He had been a loser at hop toy the night before. 

"Mister Blowning he keep busy asking for dollars. He tell me givee to theLord. Gleat smoke, Lord allee timee bloke?"

The girl laughed. The Oriental's quaint irreverence was of the letter andnot of the spirit. 

Through the swing door burst Bob Dillon. "Know where there's a rifle, June?"

She looked at him, big-eyed. "Not the Utes again?" she gasped. 

"Bank robbers. I want a gun. "

Without a word she turned and led him swiftly down the passage to abedroom. In one corner of it was a belt. Bob loaded the gun. 

June's heart beat fast. "You'll--be careful?" she cautioned. 

He nodded as he ran out of the door and into the alley behind. 

Platt & Fortner's was erecting a brick store building, the first of itskind in Bear Cat. The walls were up to the second story and the windowframes were in. Through the litter of rubbish left by the workmen Bobpicked a hurried way to one of the window spaces. Two men were crouchedin another of these openings not fifteen feet from him. 

"How many of 'em?" he asked in a loud whisper. 

Blister answered from the embrasure opposite. "D-don't know. "

"Still in the bank, are they?"

"Yes. "

Some one peered out of Dolan's through the crack of a partly opened door. Bob caught the gleam of the sun upon the barrel of a gun. A hat with apair of eyes beneath the rim of it showed above the sill of a window inthe blacksmith shop opposite. Bear Cat was all set for action. 

A man was standing beside some horses near the back door of Platt &Fortner's. He was partially screened from Bob's view by one of thebroncos and by a freight wagon, but the young cattleman had a fleetingimpression that he was Bandy Walker. Was he, too, waiting to get a shotat the bandits? Probably so. He had a rifle in his hands. But it struckDillon he was taking chances. When the robbers came out of the bank theywould be within thirty feet of him. 

Out of the front door of the bank a little group of men filed. Two ofthem were armed. The others flanked them on every side. Ferril thecashier carried a gunnysack heavily loaded. 

A man stepped out upon the platform in front of Platt & Fortner's. Fromhis position he looked down on the little bunch of men moving toward thehorses. Bandy Walker, beside the horses, called on Houck to hurry, thatthey were being surrounded. 

"I've got you covered. Throw down yore guns, " the man on the platformshouted to the outlaws, rifle at shoulder. 

Houck's revolver flashed into the air. He fired across the shoulder ofthe man whom he was using as a screen. The rifleman on the store porchsat down suddenly, his weapon clattering to the ground. 

"Another of 'em, " Houck said aloud with a savage oath. "Any one elselookin' for it?"

Walker moved forward with the horses. Afraid that general firing wouldbegin at any moment, Ferril dropped the sack and ran for the shelter ofthe wagons. His flight was a signal for the others who had been marshaledout of the bank. They scattered in a rush for cover. 

Instantly Houck guessed what would follow. From every side a volley ofbullets would be concentrated on him and his men. He too ran, dodgingback into the bank. 

He was not a tenth part of a second too soon. A fusillade of shots poureddown. It seemed that men were firing from every door, window, and streetcorner. Bandy Walker fell as he started to run. Two bullets tore throughhis heart, one from each side. The big cowpuncher never stirred from histracks. He went down at the first volley. Five wounds, any one of whichwould have been mortal, were later found in his body and head. 

All told, the firing had not lasted as long as it would take a man to runacross a street. Bear Cat had functioned. The bank robbers were out ofbusiness. 

The news spread quicker than the tongue could tell it. From alldirections men, women, and children converged toward the bank. In theexcitement the leader of the bandits was forgotten for a minute or two. 

"What about the third fellow?" a voice asked. 

The question came from Dud Hollister. He had reached the scene too lateto take any part in the battle, much to his chagrin. 

"Went into the bank, " Blister said. "I s-saw him duck in just before theshooting began. "

The building was surrounded and rushed. Houck was not inside. Evidentlyhe had run out of the back door and made for the willows by the river. Aboy claimed that he had seen a man running in that direction. 

A crowd of armed men beat the willows on both banks for a distance of amile both up and down the stream wherever there was cover. No trace ofthe outlaw could be found. Posses on horseback took up the search. Theseposses not only rode up and down the river. They scoured the mesa on theother bank all day. When night fell Houck was still at large. 

CHAPTER XLI

IN A LADY'S CHAMBER

The drama of the hold-up and of the retribution that had fallen upon thebandits had moved as swiftly as though it had been rehearsed. There hadbeen no wasted words, no delay in the action. But in life the curtaindoes not always drop at the right moment. There was anticlimax in BearCat after the guns had ceased to boom. In the reaction after the strainthe tongues of men and women were loosened. Relief expressed itself inchatter. Everybody had some contributing incident to tell. 

Into the clatter Dud Hollister's voice cut sharply. "Some one get DocTuckerman, quick. "

He was bending over the wounded man on the platform, trying to stop theflow of blood from a little hole in the side. 

Mollie stepped toward him. "Carry Art into the hotel. I'll have a bedready for him time you get there. Anybody else hurt?"

"Some one said Ferril was shot. "

"No. He's all right. There he is over there by the wagons. See? Lookin'after the gold in the sack. "

Blister came to the door of the bank in time to hear Mollie's question. "McCray's been s-shot--here in the bank. "

"Bring him in too, " ordered Mollie. 

The wounded men were given first aid and carried into the hotel. Theretheir wounds were dressed by the doctor. 

In the corridor outside Bob and his partner met June coming out of one ofthe rooms where the invalids had been taken. She was carrying a towel andsome bandages. 

"Got to get a move on me, " Dud said. "I got in after the fireworks wereover. Want to join Blister's posse now. You comin', Bob?"

"Not now, " Dillon answered. 

He was white to the lips. There was a fear in his mind that he might begoing to disgrace himself by getting sick. The nausea had not attackedhim until the shooting was over. He was much annoyed at himself, but thepicture of the lusty outlaws lying in the dust with the life stricken outof them had been too much. 

"All right. I'll be hustlin' along, " Dud said, and went. 

Bob leaned against the wall. 

June looked at him with wise, understanding mother-eyes. "It was kindaawful, wasn't it? Gave me a turn when I saw them lying there. Must havebeen worse for you. Did you--hit . . ?"

"No. " He was humiliated at the confession. "I didn't fire a shot. Couldn't, somehow. Everybody was blazin' away at 'em. That's the kind ofnerve I've got, " he told her bitterly. 

In her eyes the starlight flashed. "An' that's the kind I love. Oh, Bob, I wouldn't want to think you'd killed either of those poor men, an' oneof them just a boy. "

"Some one had to do it. "

"Yes, but not you. And they didn't have to brag afterward about it, didthey? That's horrible. Everybody going around telling how they shot them. As if it was something to be proud of. I'm so glad you're not in it. Letthe others have the glory if they want it. "

He tried to be honest about it. "That's all very well, but they were abad lot. They didn't hesitate to kill. The town had to defend itself. No, it was just that I'm such a--baby. "

"You're not!" she protested indignantly. "I won't have you say it, either. "

His hungry eyes could not leave her, so slim and ardent, all fire andflame. The sweetness of her energy, the grace of the delicate liftedthroat curve, the warmth and color of life in her, expressed a spiritgenerous and fine. His heart sang within him. Out of a world of women shewas the one he wanted, the lance-straight mate his soul leaped out tomeet. 

"There's no one like you in the world, June, " he cried. "Nobody in allthe world. "

She flashed at him eyes of alarm. A faint pink, such as flushes the seaat dawn, waved into her cheeks and throat. 

"I've got to go, " she said hurriedly. "Mollie'll be expectin' me. "

She was off, light-footed as Daphne, the rhythm of morning in her step. 

All day she carried with her the treasure of his words and the look thathad gone with them. Did he think it? Did he really and truly believe it?Her exaltation stayed with her while she waited on table, while shenursed the wounded men, while she helped Chung wash the dishes. It wentsinging with her into her little bedroom when she retired for the night. 

June sat down before the small glass and looked at the image she sawthere. What was it he liked about her? She studied the black crisp hair, the dark eager eyes with the dusky shadows under them in the slighthollows beneath, the glow of red that stained the cheeks below thepigment of the complexion. She tried looking at the reflection fromdifferent angles to get various effects. It was impossible for her not toknow that she was good to look at, but she had very little vanity aboutit. None the less it pleased her because it pleased others. 

She let down her long thick hair and combed it. The tresses still had theold tendency of her childhood to snarl unless she took good care of them. From being on her feet all day the shoes she was wearing wereuncomfortable. She slipped them off and returned to the brushing of thehair. 

While craning her neck for a side view June saw in the glass that whichdrained the blood from her heart. Under the bed the fingers of a handprojected into view. It was like her that in spite of the shock sheneither screamed nor ran to the door and cried for help. She went onlooking at her counterfeit in the glass, thoughts racing furiously. Thehand belonged to a man. She could see that now plainly, could even makeout a section of the gauntlet on his wrist. Who was he? What was he doinghere in her room?

She turned in the chair, deliberately, steadying her voice. 

"Better come out from there. I see you, " she said quietly. 

From under the bed Jake Houck crawled. 

CHAPTER XLII

A WALK IN THE PARK

June was the first to speak. "So you're here. You didn't get away. "

"I'm here, " Houck growled. "No chance for a getaway. I ran out the backdoor of the bank an' ducked into the hotel. This was the first door Icome to, an' I headed in. "

She was not afraid of him. The power he had once held over her was goneforever. The girl had found resources within herself that refused himdominance. He was what he always had been, but she had changed. Hervision was clearer. A game and resourceful bully he might be, but sheknew one quiet youth of a far finer courage. 

"They're lookin' for you along the river, " she said. 

The muscles of his jaw hardened. "They'd better hope they don't find me, some of 'em, " he bragged. 

"So had you, " she said significantly. 

He took her meaning instantly. The temper of Bear Cat was on edge for alynching. "Did they die, either o' those fellows I shot?" the banditdemanded. 

"Not yet. "

"Fools, the pair of 'em. If that bank teller hadn't grabbed for his gunwe'd 'a' got away with it fine. "

She looked at him with disgust, not untouched with self-scorn because shehad ever let him become an overpowering influence in her life. He couldno more help boasting than he could breathing. 

"As it is, you've reached the end of your rope, " the girl said steadily. 

"Don't you think I'm at the end of a rope. I'm a long ways from there. "

"And the men with you are gone. "

"How gone? Did they get 'em?"

"Neither of them ever moved out of his tracks. "

"When I heard the shootin' I figured it would be thataway, " Houck saidcallously. 

She could see in him no evidence whatever of regret or remorse for whathe had done. This raid, she guessed, was of his planning. He had broughtthe others into it, and they had paid the penalty of their folly. Theresponsibility for their deaths lay at his door. He was not apparentlygiving a thought to that. 

"You can't stay here, " she told him coldly. "You'll have to go. "

"Go where? Can you get me a horse?"

"I won't, " June answered. 

"I got to have a horse, girl, " he wheedled. "Can't travel without one. "

"I don't care how far you travel or what becomes of you. I want you outof here. That's all. "

"You wouldn't want me shootin' up some o' yore friends, would you? Well, then. If they find me here there'll be some funerals in Bear Cat. You canbet heavy on that. "

She spoke more confidently than she felt. "They can take care ofthemselves. I won't have you here. I'll not protect you. "

The outlaw's eyes narrowed to slits. "Throw me down, would you? Tell 'emI'm here, mebbe?" His face was a menace, his voice a snarl. 

June looked at him steadily, unafraid. "You needn't try to bully me. It'snot worth wasting your time. "

To look at her was to know the truth of what she said, but he could nothelp trying to dominate the girl, both because it was his nature andbecause he needed so badly her help. 

"Sho! You're not so goshalmighty. You're jes' June Tolliver. I'm the sameJake Houck you once promised to marry. Don't forget that, girl. I tookyou from that white-livered fellow you married--"

"Who saved you from the Utes when nobody else would lift a finger foryou. That comes well from you of all men, " she flung out. 

"That ain't the point. What I'm sayin' is that I'll not stand for youthrowin' me down. "

"What can you do?" She stood before him in her stockings, the heavy blackhair waving down to her hips, a slim girl whose wiry strength he couldcrush with one hand. 

Her question stopped him. What could he do if she wanted to give him up?If he made a move toward her she would scream, and that would bring hisenemies upon him. He could shoot her afterward, but that would do nogood. His account was heavy enough as it stood without piling upsurplusage. 

"You aimin' for to sell me out?" he asked hoarsely. 

"No. I won't be responsible for your death. " June might have addedanother reason, a more potent one. She knew Jake Houck, what a game anddesperate villain he was. They could not capture him alive. It was notlikely he could be killed without one or two men at least being shot byhim. Driven into a corner, he would fight like a wild wolf. 

"Tha's the way to talk, June. Help me outa this hole. You can if you're amind to. Have they got patrols out everywhere?"

"Only on the river side of the town. They think you escaped that way. "

"Well, if you'll get me a horse--"

"I'll not do it. " She reflected a moment, thinking out the situation. "Ifyou can reach the foothills you'll have a chance. "

He grinned, wolfishly. "I'll reach 'em. You can gamble on that, if I haveto drop a coupla guys like I did this mornin'. "

That was just the trouble. If any one interfered with him, or evenrecognized him, he would shoot instantly. He would be a deadly menaceuntil he was out of Bear Cat. 

"I'll go with you, " June said impulsively. 

"Go with me?" he repeated. 

"Across the park. If they see me with you, nobody'll pay any attention toyou. Pull your hat down over your eyes. "

He did as she told him. 

"Better leave your guns here. If anyone sees them--"

"Nothin' doing. My guns go right with me. What are you trying to pulloff?" He shot a lowering, suspicious look at her. 

"Keep them under your coat, then. We don't want folks looking at us toocuriously. We'll stroll along as if we were interested in our talk. Whenwe meet any one, if we do, you can look down at me. That'll hide yourface. "

"You going with me clear to the edge of town?"

"No. Just across the square, where it's light an' there are liable to bepeople. You'll have to look out for yourself after that. It's not morethan two hundred yards to the sagebrush. "

"I'm ready whenever you are, " he said. 

June put on her shoes and did up her hair. 

She made him wait there while she scouted to make sure nobody was in thecorridor outside the room. 

They passed out of the back door of the hotel. 

Chung met them. He grunted "Glood-eveling" with a grin at June, but hedid not glance twice at her companion. 

The two passed across a vacant lot and into the park. They saw one or twopeople--a woman with a basket of eggs, a barefoot boy returning home fromafter-supper play. June carried the burden of the talk because she wasquicker-witted than Houck. Its purpose was to deceive anybody who mighthappen to be looking at them. 

It chanced that some one _was_ looking at them. He was a young man whohad been lying on the grass stargazing. They passed close to him and herecognized June by her walk. That was not what brought him to his feet amoment later with a gasp of amazement. He had recognized her companion, too, or he thought he had. It was not credible, of course. He must bemistaken. And yet--if that was not Jake Houck's straddling slouch hiseyes were playing tricks. The fellow limped, too, just a trifle, as hehad heard the Brown's Park man did from the effects of his wounds in theUte campaign. 

But how could Houck be with June, strolling across the park in intimatetalk with her, leaning toward her in that confidential, lover-likeattitude--Jake Houck, who had robbed the bank a few hours earlier and wasbeing hunted up and down the river by armed posses ready to shoot himlike a wolf? June was a good hater. She had no use whatever for thisfellow. Why, then, would she be with him, laughing lightly and talkingwith animation?

Bob followed them, as noiselessly as possible. And momentarily theconviction grew in him that this was Houck. It was puzzling, but he couldnot escape the conclusion. There was a trick in the fellow's stride, apeculiarity of the swinging shoulders that made for identification of theman. 

If he could have heard the talk between them, Bob would have betterunderstood the situation. 

Ever since that memorable evening when Bear Cat had driven him away indisgrace, Houck had let loose the worse impulses of his nature. He hadgone bad, to use the phrase of the West. Something in him had snappedthat hitherto had made him value the opinions of men. In the old days hehad been a rustler and worse, but no crime had ever been proved againsthim. He could hold his head up, and he did. But the shock to his prideand self-esteem that night had produced in him a species ofdisintegration. He had drunk heavily and almost constantly. It had beenduring the sour temper following such a bout that he had quarreled withand shot the Ute. From that hour his declension had been swift. How farhe had gone was shown by the way he had taken Dillon's great service tohim. The thing rankled in his mind, filled him with surging rage wheneverhe thought of it. He hated the young fellow more than ever. 

But as he walked with June, slender, light-swinging, warm with young, sensuous life, the sultry passion of the man mounted to his brain andoverpowered caution. His vanity whispered to him. No woman saved a manfrom death unless she loved him. She might give other reasons, but thatone only counted. It was easy for him to persuade himself that she alwayshad been fond of him at heart. There had been moments when the quality ofher opposition to him had taken on the color of adventure. 

"I'll leave you at the corner, " she said. "Go back of that house andthrough the barbed-wire fence. You'll be in the sage then. "

"Come with me to the fence, " he whispered. "I got something to tellyou. "

She looked at him, sharply, coldly. "You've got nothing to tell me that Iwant to hear. I'm not doing this for you, but to save the lives of myfriends. Understand that. "

They were for the moment in the shadow of a great cottonwood. Houckstopped, devouring her with his hungry eyes. Bad as the man was, he hadthe human craving of his sex. The slim grace of her, the fundamentalcourage, the lift of the oval chin, touched a chord that went vibratingthrough him. He snatched her to him, crushing his kisses upon thedisturbing mouth, upon the color spots that warmed her cheeks. 

She was too smothered to cry out at first. Later, she repressed theimpulse. With all her strength she fought to push him from her. 

A step sounded, a cry, the sound of a smashing blow going home. Houckstaggered back. He reached for a revolver. 

June heard herself scream. A shot rang out. The man who had rescued hercrumpled up and went down. In that horrified moment she knew he was BobDillon. 

CHAPTER XLIII

NOT EVEN POWDER-BURNT

Houck stood over the prostrate man, the smoking revolver in his hand, onhis lips a cruel twist and in his throat a wolfish snarl. 

June, watching him with eyes held in a fascination of terror, felt thatat any moment he might begin pumping shots into the supine body. Sheshook off the palsy that held her and almost hurled her soft young bodyat him. 

"Don't!" she begged. "Don't!" Cold fingers clutched at his wrist, draggeddown the barrel of the forty-five. 

"He had it comin'. He was askin' for it, " the outlaw said. He spokehuskily, still looking down at the crumpled figure. 

The girl felt in him the slackness of indecision. Should he shoot againand make sure? Or let the thing go as it was? In an instant he would havemade up his mind. 

She spoke quickly, words tumbling out pell-mell. "You must hurry--hurry!When they heard that shot--Listen! There's some one coming. Oh, run, run!"

Her staccato warning deflected his mind from the course toward which itmight have turned. He held up his head, listening. The slap of footstepson a board walk could be plainly heard. A voice lifted itself in questioninto the night. The door of Dolan's opened and let out a fan-shaped shaftof light. The figures of men could be seen as they surged across the litspace into the darkness. June had spoken the truth. He must hurry if hewas to escape. To shoot again now would be to advertise the spot where hewas. 

He wrenched his arm from her fingers and ran. He moved as awkwardly as abear, but he covered ground swiftly. In a few seconds the night hadswallowed him. 

Instantly the girl was beside Dillon, on her knees, lifting his head intoher arms. "Oh, Bob--Bob!" she wailed. 

He opened his eyes. 

"Where did he hit you?" she cried softly. 

His face was puzzled. He did not yet realize what had taken place. "Hitme--who?"

"That Houck. He shot you. Oh, Bob, are you much hurt?"

Dillon was recalled to a pain in his intestines. He pressed his handagainst the cartridge belt. 

"It's here, " he said weakly. 

He could feel the wet blood soaking through the shirt. The thought of italmost made him lose consciousness again. 

"L-let's have a look, " a squeaky voice said. 

June looked up. Blister had arrived panting on the scene. Larson was onhis heels. 

"We better carry him to the hotel, " the cattleman said to the justice. "Who did it?"

"Houck, " June sobbed. She was not weeping, but her breath was catching. 

Bob tried to rise, but firm hands held him down. "I can walk, " heprotested. "Lemme try, anyhow. "

"No, " insisted June. 

Blister knelt beside Dillon. "Where's the wound at?" he asked. 

The young fellow showed him. 

"J-June, you go get Doc T-Tuckerman, " Blister ordered. 

She flew to obey. 

The fat man opened the shirt. 

"Look out for the blood, " Bob said, still faintly. "Ouch!"

Blister's hand was traveling slowly next to the flesh. "N-no blood here, "he said. 

"Why, I felt it. "

"R-reckon not, son. " Blister exposed his hand in the moonlight. 

The evidence bore out what he said. 

"Maybe it's bleeding internally, " Bob said. 

Larson had picked up the belt they had unstrapped from Dillon's waist. Hewas examining it closely. His keen eyes found a dent in the buckle. Thebuckle had been just above the spot where Bob complained of the pain. 

"Maybe it ain't, " Larson said. "Looks like he hit yore belt an' thebullet went flyin' wild. "

A closer examination showed that this must be what had taken place. Therewas no wound on Bob's body. He had been stunned by the shock and hisactive imagination had at once accepted the assumption that he had beenwounded. 

Bob rose with a shamefaced laugh. The incident seemed to him verycharacteristic. He was always making a fool of himself by gettingfrightened when there was no need of it. One could not imagine DudHollister lying down and talking faintly about an internal bleeding whenthere was not a scratch on his body, nor fancying that he could feelblood soaking through his shirt because somebody had shot at him. 

As the three men walked back toward the hotel, they met June and Dud. Thegirl cried out at sight of Bob. 

"I'm a false alarm, " he told her bitterly. "He didn't hit me a-tall. "

"Hit his b-belt buckle. If this here T-Texas man lives to be a hundredhe'll never have a closer call. Think of a fellow whangin' away with aforty-five right close to him, hitting him where he was aimin' for, andnot even scratching Bob. O' course the shock of it knocked him cold. Naturally it would. But I'll go on record that our friend here was bornlucky. I'd ought by rights to be holdin' an inquest on the remains, "Blister burbled cheerfully. 

June said nothing. She drew a long sigh of relief and looked at Bob tomake sure that they were concealing nothing from her. 

He met her look in a kind of dogged despair. On this one subject he wasso sensitive that he found criticisms where none were intended. Blisterwas making excuses for him, he felt, was preparing a way of escape fromhis chicken-hearted weakness. And he did not want the failure palliated. 

"What's the use of all that explainin', Blister?" he said bluntly. "Factis, I got scared an' quit cold. Thought I was shot up when I wasn't evenpowder-burnt. "

He turned on his heel and walked away. 

Dud's white teeth showed in his friendly, affectionate grin. "Never didsee such a fellow for backin' hisself into a corner an' allowin' thathe's a plumb quitter. I'll bet, if the facts were known, he come throughall right. "

June decided to tell her story. "Yes, Dud. He must have seen Jake Houckwith me, and when Jake--annoyed me--Bob jumped at him and hit him. ThenJake shot. "

"Lucky he didn't shoot again after Bob was down, " ventured Dud on asearch for information. 

In the darkness none of them could see the warm glow that swept acrossthe cheeks of the girl. "I kinda got in his way--and told him he'd betterhurry, " she explained. 

"Yes, but--Where did you meet Houck? How did he happen to be with you?"asked Larson. "To be on this side of town he must 'a' slipped through theguards. "

"He never went to the river. I found him under the bed in my room a fewminutes ago. Said he ran in there after he left the bank. He wanted me toget him a horse. I wouldn't. But I knew if he was found cornered he wouldkill somebody before he was taken. Maybe two or three. I didn't know. Andof course he wouldn't 'a' let me leave the room alone anyhow. So I saidI'd walk across the park with him and let him slip into the sage. Ithought it would be better. "

Dud nodded. "We'd better get the boys on his trail immediate. "

They separated, with that end in view. 

CHAPTER XLIV

BOB HOLDS HIS RED HAID HIGH

At the corner of the street Bob came upon Tom Reeves and an old Leadvilleminer in argument. Tom made the high sign to Dillon. 

"What's all the rumpus about?" he wanted to know. 

"Jake Houck was seen crossin' the park. He got into the sage. "

"Sho! I'll bet the hole of a doughnut he ain't been seen. If you was toask me I'd say he was twenty-five miles from here right now, an' notlettin' no grass grow under his feet neither. I been talkin' to oldwooden head here about the railroad comin' in. " Tom's eyes twinkled. Hisfriend guessed that he was trying to get a rise out of the old-timer. "He's sure some mossback. I been tellin' him the railroad's comin'through here an' Meeker right soon, but he can't see it. I reckon thetoot of an engine would scare him 'most to death. "

"Don't get excited about that railroad, son, " drawled the formerhard-rock driller, chewing his cud equably. "I rode a horse to deathfifteen years ago to beat the choo-choo train in here, an' I notice itain't arriv yet. "

Bob left them to their argument. He was not just now in a mood forbadinage. He moved up the street past the scattered suburbs of the littlefrontier town. Under the cool stars he wanted to think out what had justtaken place. 

Had he fainted from sheer fright when the gun blazed at him? Or wasBlister's explanation a genuine one? He had read of men being thrown downand knocked senseless by the atmospheric shock of shells exploding nearthem in battle. But this would not come in that class. He had beenactually struck. The belt buckle had been driven against his flesh. Hadthis hit him with force enough actually to drive the breath out of him?Or had he thought himself wounded and collapsed because of the thought?

It made a great deal of difference to him which of these was true, morethan it did to the little world in which he moved. Some of the boys mightguy him good-naturedly, but nobody was likely to take the matterseriously except himself. Bob had begun to learn that a man ought to behis own most severe critic. He had set out to cure himself of cowardice. He would not be easy in mind so long as he still suspected himself ofshowing the white feather. 

He leaned on a fence and looked across the silvery sage to a grove ofquaking asp beyond. How long he stood there, letting thoughts driftthrough his mind, he did not know. A sound startled him, the faint swishof something stirring. He turned. 

Out of the night shadows a nymph seemed to be floating toward him. For amoment he had a sense of unreality, that the flow and rhythm of hermovement were born of the imagination. But almost at once he knew thatthis was June in the flesh. 

The moonlight haloed the girl, lent her the touch of magic thattransformed her from a creature not too good for human nature's dailyfood into an ethereal daughter of romance. Her eyes were dark pools ofloveliness in a white face. 

"June!" he cried, excitement drumming in his blood. 

Why had she come to find him? What impulse or purpose had brought her outinto the night in his wake? Desire of her, tender, poignant, absorbing, pricked through him like an ache. He wanted her. Soul and body reachedout to her, though both found expression only in that first cry. 

Her mouth quivered. "Oh, Bob, you silly boy! As if--as if it matters whyyou were stunned. You were. That's enough. I'm so glad--so glad you'renot hurt. It's 'most a miracle. He might have killed you. "

She did not tell him that he would have done it if she had not flung herweight on his arm and dragged the weapon down, nor how in that dreadfulmoment her wits had worked to save him from the homicidal mania of thekiller. 

Bob's heart thumped against his ribs like a caged bird. Her dear concernwas for him. It was so she construed friendship--to give herselfgenerously without any mock modesty or prudery. She had come withoutthought of herself because her heart had sent her. 

"What matters is that when I called you came, " she went on. "You weren'tafraid then, were you?"

"Hadn't time. That's why. I just jumped. "

"Yes. " The expression in her soft eyes was veiled, like autumn fires inthe hills blazing through mists. "You just jumped to help me. You forgothe carried two forty-fives and would use them, didn't you?"

"Yes, " he admitted. "I reckon if I'd thought of that--"

Even as the laughter rippled from her throat she gave a gesture ofimpatience. There were times when self-depreciation ceased to be avirtue. She remembered a confidence Blister had once made to her. 

"T-Texas man, " she squeaked, stuttering a little in mimicry, "throw upthat red haid an' stick out yore chin. "

Up jerked the head. Bob began to grin in spite of himself. 

"Whose image are you m-made in?" she demanded. 

"You know, " he answered. 

"What have you got over all the world?"

"Dominion, ma'am, but not over all of it, I reckon. "

"All of it, " she insisted, standing clean of line and straight as a boysoldier. 

"Right smart of it, " he compromised. 

"Every teeny bit of it, " she flung back. 

"Have yore own way. I know you will anyhow, " he conceded. 

"An' what are you a little lower than?"

"I'm a heap lower than one angel I know. "

She stamped her foot. "You're no such thing. You're as good as anyone--and better. "

"I wouldn't say better, " he murmured ironically. None the less he wasfeeling quite cheerful again. He enjoyed being put through his catechismby her. 

"Trouble with you is you're so meek, " she stormed. "You let anybody runit over you till they go too far. What's the use of crying your own goodsdown? Tell the world you're Bob Dillon and for it to watch your dust. "

"You want me to brag an' strut like Jake Houck?"

"No-o, not like that. But Blister's right. You've got to know your worth. When you're sure of it you don't have to tell other people about it. Theyknow. "

He considered this. "Tha's correct, " he said. 

"Well, then. "

Bob had an inspiration. It was born out of moonshine, her urging, and thehunger of his heart. His spurs trailed across the grass. 

"Is my red haid high enough now?" he asked, smiling. 

Panic touched her pulse. "Yes, Bob. "

"What have I got over all the world?" he quizzed. 

"Dominion, " she said obediently in a small voice. 

"Over all of it?"

"I--don't--know. "

His brown hands fastened on her shoulders. He waited till at last hereyes came up to meet his. "Every teeny bit of it. "

"Have your own way, " she replied, trying feebly to escape an emotionalclimax by repeating the words he had used. "I know you will anyhow. "

He felt himself floating on a wave of audacious self-confidence. "Say it, then. Every teeny bit of it. "

"Every teeny bit of it, " she whispered. 

"That means June Tolliver too. " The look in his eyes flooded her withlove. 

"June Dillon, " the girl corrected in a voice so soft and low he scarcelymade out the words. 

He caught her in his arms. "You precious lamb!"

They forgot the rest of the catechism. She nestled against his shoulderwhile they told each other in voiceless ways what has been in the heartsof lovers ever since the first ones walked in Eden. 

CHAPTER XLV

THE OUTLAW GETS A BAD BREAK

Houck crawled through the barbed-wire fence and looked back into the parkfrom which he had just fled. June was kneeling beside the man he hadshot. Some one was running across the grass toward her. Soon the pursuitwould be at his heels. He dared not lose a second. 

He plunged into the sage, making for the hills which rose like asaw-toothed wall on the horizon. If he could reach them he might findthere a precarious safety. Some wooded pocket would give him shelteruntil the pursuit had swept past. He was hungry, but if he must he coulddo without food for a day. 

The bandit was filled with a furious, impotent rage at the way fortunehad tricked him. Thirty-five miles from Bear Cat, well back from theriver, three horses were waiting for him and his dead companions in adraw. Unless somebody found them they would wait a long time. The waythat led to them was barred for him. He would have to try to reachGlenwood or Rifle. From there he could perhaps catch a freight east orwest. His one chance was to get clear out of the country. After thisday's work it would be too small to hold him. 

Nothing had come out as he had planned it. The farthest thing from hishopes had been that he would have to fight his way out. He had not killedthat fool Dillon of set purpose. He knew now that if his anger had notblazed out he might have made his getaway and left the fellow alive. Buthe had been given no time to think. It was a bad break of the luck. TheWhite River settlers would not forgive him that. They would remember thatDillon had saved him from the Indians in the Ute campaign, and they wouldreason--the thickheaded idiots--that the least he could have done was tolet the boy go. 

He plunged through the sand of the sage hills at a gait that was half arun and half a walk. In his high-heeled boots fast travel was difficult. The footgear of the cattleman is not made for walking. The hill riders domost of their travel in a saddle. Houck's feet hurt. His toes were drivenforward in the boots until each step became torture. From his heels theskin peeled from sliding up and down against the hard leather. 

But he dared not stop. Already he could hear the pursuers. In the stillnight there came to him the shout of one calling to another, the ring ofa horse's hoof striking on a stone. They were combing the mesa behindhim. 

Houck stumbled forward. Vaguely there rose before him a boulder-strewnslope that marked the limit of the valley. Up this he scrambled in adesperate hurry to reach the rocks. For the pursuit was almost upon himnow. 

Two outcroppings of sandstone barred the way. They leaned against eachother, leaving a small cave beneath. Into this Houck crawled on hands andknees. 

He lay crouched there, weapon in hand, like a cornered wolf, while theriders swept up and past. He knew one palpitating moment when he thoughthimself about to be discovered. Two of the posse stopped close to hishiding-place. 

"Must be close to him, " one said. "Got the makin's, Jim?"

"Sure. " Evidently the tobacco pouch was passed from one to the other. "Right in these rocks somewhere, I shouldn't wonder. "

"Mebbeso. Mebbe still hot-footin' it for the hills. He's in one heluvahurry if you ask me. "

"Killed Bob Dillon in the park, I heard. "

"If he did he'll sure hang for it, after what Dillon did for him. "

There came the faint sound of creaking leather as their horses moved upthe hill. 

The outlaw waited till they were out of hearing before he crept into theopen. Across the face of the slope he cut obliquely, working alwaystoward higher ground. His lips were drawn back so that thetobacco-stained teeth showed in a snarl of savage rage. It would go illwith any of the posse if they should stumble on him. He would have nomore mercy than a hunted wild beast. 

With every minute now his chances of safety increased. The riders werefar above him and to the left. With luck he should reach Piceance Creekby morning. He would travel up it till he came to Pete Tolliver's place. He would make the old man give him a horse. Not since the night he hadbeen ridden out of Bear Cat on a rail had he seen the nester. But Petealways had been putty in his hands. It would be easy enough to bully himinto letting him have whatever he wanted. All he needed was a saddledmount and provisions. 

Houck was on unfamiliar ground. If there were settlers in these hills hedid not know where they were. Across the divide somewhere ran PiceanceCreek, but except in a vague way he was not sure of the direction ittook. It was possible he might lay hold of a horse this side ofTolliver's. If so, he would not for a moment hesitate to take it. 

All night he traveled. Once he thought he heard a distant dog, but thoughhe moved in the direction from which the barking had come he did not findany ranch. The first faint glimmer of gray dawn had begun to lighten thesky when he reached the watershed of Piceance. 

It had been seventeen hours since he had tasted water and that had beenas a chaser after a large drink of whiskey. He was thirsty, and hehastened his pace to reach the creek. Moving down the slope, he pulled upabruptly. He had run into a cavvy grazing on the hill. 

A thick growth of pine and piñon ran up to the ridge above. Back of ascrub evergreen Houck dropped to consider a plan of action. He meant toget one of these horses, and to do this he must have it and be gonebefore dawn. This was probably some round-up. If he could drift aroundclose to the camp and find a saddle, there would likely be a ropeattached to it. He might, of course, be seen, but he would have to take achance on that. 

Chance befriended him to his undoing. As he crept through the brushsomething caught his ankle and he stumbled. His groping fingers found arope. One end of the rope was attached to a stake driven into the ground. The other led to a horse, a pinto, built for spirit and for speed, histrained eye could tell. 

He pulled up the stake and wound up the rope, moving toward the pinto ashe did so. He decided it would be better not to try to get a saddle tillhe reached Tolliver's place. The rope would do for a bridle at a pinch. 

The horse backed away from him, frightened at this stranger who hadappeared from nowhere. He followed, trying in a whisper to soothe theanimal. It backed into a small piñon, snapping dry branches with itsweight. 

Houck cursed softly. He did not want to arouse anybody in the camp or tocall the attention of the night jinglers to his presence. He tried tolead the pinto away, but it balked and dug its forefeet into the ground, leaning back on the rope. 

The outlaw murmured encouragement to the horse. Reluctantly it yielded tothe steady pull on its neck. Man and beast began to move back up thehill. As soon as he was a safe distance from the camp, Houck meant tomake of the rope a bridle. 

In the pre-dawn darkness he could see little and that only as vagueoutlines rather than definite shapes. But some instinct warned the huntedman that this was no round-up camp. He did not quite know what it was. Yet he felt as though he were on the verge of a discovery, as though anunknown but terrible danger surrounded him. Unimaginative he was, butsomething that was almost panic flooded up in him. 

He could not wait to mount the horse until he had reached the brow of thehill. Drawing the rope close, he caught at the mane of the horse and benthis knees for the spring. 

Houck had an instant's warning, and his revolver was half out of itsscabbard when the rush of the attack flung him against the startledanimal. He fought like a baited bear, exerting all his great strength tofling back the figures that surged up at him out of the darkness. Fromall sides they came at him, with guttural throat cries, swarming overeach other as he beat them down. 

The struggling mass quartered over the ground like some unwieldyprehistoric reptile. Houck knew that if he lost his footing he was donefor. Once, as the cluster of fighters swung downhill, the outlaw foundhimself close to the edge of the group. He got his arms free and tried tobeat off those clinging to him. Out of the mêlée he staggered, a pair ofarms locked tightly round his thighs. Before he could free himselfanother body flung itself at his shoulder and hurled him from his feet. 

His foes piled on him as ants do on a captured insect. His arms were tiedbehind him with rawhide thongs, his feet fastened together ratherloosely. 

He was pulled to a sitting posture. In the east the sky had lightenedwith the promise of the coming day. 

His clothes torn from arms and body, his face bleeding from random blows, Houck looked round on the circle of his captors defiantly. In his glaringeyes and close-clamped, salient jaw no evidence was written of thedespair that swept over him in a wave and drowned hope. He had in thisbleak hour of reckoning the virtue of indomitable gameness. 

"All right. You got me. Go to it, you red devils, " he growled. 

The Utes gloated over him in a silence more deadly than any verbalthreats. Their enemy had been delivered into their hands. 

CHAPTER XLVI

THE END OF A CROOKED TRAIL

In the grim faces of the Utes Houck read his doom. He had not the leastdoubt of it. His trail ended here. 

The terror in his heart rose less out of the fact itself than thecircumstances which surrounded it. The gray dawn, the grim, copper-colored faces, the unknown torment waiting for him, stimulated hisimagination. He could have faced his own kind, the cattlemen of the RioBlanco, without this clutching horror that gripped him. They would havedone what they thought necessary, but without any unnecessary cruelty. What the Utes would do he did not know. They would make sure of theirvengeance, but they would not be merciful about it. 

He repressed a shudder and showed his yellow teeth in a grin of defiance. "I reckon you're right glad to see me, " he jeered. 

Still they said nothing, only looked at their captive with an aspect thatdaunted him. 

"Not dumb, are you? Speak up, some of you, " Houck snarled, fighting downthe panic within him. 

A wrinkled old Ute spoke quietly. "Man-with-loud-tongue die. He killIndian--give him no chance. Indians kill him now. "

Houck nodded his head. "Sure I killed him. He'd stolen my horse, hadn'the?"

The old fellow touched his chest. "Black Arrow my son. You kill him. Hetake your horse mebbe. You take Ute horse. " He pointed to the pinto. "Utekill Man-with-loud-tongue. "

"Black Arrow reached for his gun. I had to shoot. It was an even break. "Houck's voice pleaded in spite of his resolution not to weaken. 

The spokesman for the Indians still showed an impassive face, but hisvoice was scornful. "Is Man-with-loud-tongue a yellow coyote? Does hecarry the heart of a squaw? Will he cry like a pappoose?"

Houck's salient jaw jutted out. The man was a mass of vanity. Moreover, he was game. "Who told you I was yellow? Where did you get that? I ain'tscared of all the damned Utes that ever came outa hell. "

And to prove it--perhaps, too, by way of bolstering up his courage--hecursed the redskins with a string of blistering oaths till he was out ofbreath. 

The captive needed no explanation of the situation. He knew that thesoldiers had failed to round up and drive back to the reservation a bandof the Utes that had split from the main body and taken to the hills. Bysome unlucky chance or evil fate he had come straight from Bear Cat totheir night camp. 

The Utes left Houck pegged out to the ground while they sat at a littledistance and held a pow-wow. The outlaw knew they were deciding his fate. He knew them better than to expect anything less than death. What shookhis nerve was the uncertainty as to the form it would take. Like allfrontiersmen, he had heard horrible stories of Apache torture. In generalthe Utes did not do much of that sort of thing. But they had a specialgrudge against him. What he had done to one of them had been at least acontributory cause of the outbreak that had resulted so disastrously forthem. He would have to pay the debt he owed. But how? He sweated bloodwhile the Indians squatted before the fire and came to a decision. 

The council did not last long. When it broke up Houck braced his will toface what he must. It would not be long now. Soon he would know theworst. 

Two of the braves went up the hill toward the cavvy. The rest came backto their captive. 

They stood beside him in silence. Houck scowled up at them, stilldefiant. 

"Well?" he demanded. 

The Utes said nothing. They stood there stolid. Their victim read in thatvoiceless condemnation an awful menace. 

"Onload it, " he jeered. "I'm no squaw. Shoot it at me. Jake Houck ain'tscared. "

Still they waited, the father of Black Arrow with folded arms, a sultryfire burning in his dark eyes. 

The two men who had gone to the cavvy returned. They were leading a horsewith a rope around its neck. Houck recognized the animal with a thrill ofsuperstitious terror. It was the one about the possession of which he hadshot Black Arrow. 

The old chief spoke again. "Man-with-loud-tongue claim this horse. Utesgive it him. Horse his. Man-with-loud-tongue satisfied then maybe. "

"What are you aimin' to do, you red devils?" Houck shouted. 

Already he guessed vaguely at the truth. Men were arranging a kind ofharness of rope and rawhide on the animal. 

Others stooped to drag the captive forward. He set his teeth to keep backthe shriek of terror that rose to his throat. 

He knew now what form the vengeance of the savages was to take. 

CHAPTER XLVII

THE KINGDOM OF JOY

A prince of the Kingdom of Joy rode the Piceance trail on a morning gladwith the song of birds and the rippling of brooks. Knee to knee with himrode his princess, slim and straight, the pink in her soft smooth cheeks, a shy and eager light in the velvet-dark eyes. They were startingtogether on the long, long trail, and the poor young things could visionit only as strewn with sunbathed columbines and goldenrods. 

The princess was a bride, had been one for all of twelve hours. It washer present conviction that she lived in a world wonderful, and that themost amazingly radiant thing in it was what had happened to her and BobDillon. She pitied everybody else in the universe. They were so blind!They looked, but they did not see what was so clear to eyes from whichthe veil had been stripped. They went about their humdrum way withoutemotion. Their hearts did not sing exultant pæans that throbbed out ofthem like joy-notes from a meadow-lark's throat. Only those who had comehappily to love's fruition understood the meaning of life. June was notonly happy; she was this morning wise, heiress of that sure wisdom whichcomes only to the young when they discover just why they have been borninto the world. 

How many joys there were for those attuned to receive them! Her fingerslaced with Bob's, and from the contact a warm, ecstatic glow flooded boththeir bodies. She looked at his clean brown face, with its line of goldendown above where the razor had traveled, with its tousled, reddish hairfalling into the smiling eyes, and a queer little lump surged into thegirl's throat. Her husband! This boy was the mate heaven had sent her torepay for years of unhappiness. 

"My wife!" It was all still so new and unbelievable that Bob's voiceshook a little. 

"Are you sorry?" she asked. 

Her shy smile teased. She did not ask because she needed information, butbecause she could not hear too often the answer. 

"You know whether I am. Oh, June girl, I didn't know it would be likethis, " he cried. 

"Nor I, Bob. "

Their lithe bodies leaned from the saddles. They held each other closewhile their lips met. 

They were on their way to Pete Tolliver's to tell him the great news. Soon now the old cabin and its outbuildings would break into view. Theyhad only to climb Twelve-Mile Hill. 

Out of a draw to the right a horse moved. Through the brush somethingdragged behind it. 

"What's that?" asked June. 

"Don't know. Looks kinda queer. It's got some sort of harness on. "

They rode to the draw. June gave a small cry of distress. 

"Oh, Bob, it's a man. "

He dismounted. The horse with the dragging load backed away, but it wastoo tired to show much energy. Bob moved forward, soothing the animalwith gentle sounds. He went slowly, with no sudden gestures. Presently hewas patting the neck of the horse. With his hunting-knife he cut therawhide thongs that served as a harness. 

"It's a Ute pony, " he said, after he had looked it over carefully. Heknew this because the Indians earmarked their mounts. 

June was still in the saddle. Some instinct warned her not to look tooclosely at the load behind that was so horribly twisted. 

"Better go back to the road, June, " her husband advised. "It's too lateto do anything for this poor fellow. "

She did as he said, without another look at the broken body. 

When she had gone, Bob went close and turned over the huddled figure. Torn though it was, he recognized the face of Jake Houck. To constructthe main features of the tragedy was not difficult. 

While escaping from Bear Cat after the fiasco of the bank robbery, Houckmust have stumbled somehow into the hands of the Ute band still at large. They had passed judgment on him and executed it. No doubt the wretchedman had been tied at the heels of a horse which had been lashed into afrenzied gallop by the Indians in its rear. He had been dragged or kickedto death by the frightened horse. 

As Bob looked down into that still, disfigured face, there came to himvividly a sense of the weakness and frailty of human nature. Not longsince this bit of lifeless clay had straddled his world like a Colossus. To the young cowpuncher he had been a superman, terrible in his power andcapacity to do harm. Now all that vanity and egoism had vanished, blownaway as though it had never been. 

Where was Jake Houck? What had become of him? The shell that had been hiswas here. But where was the roaring bully that had shaken his fistblasphemously at God and man?

It came to him, with a queer tug at the heartstrings, that Houck had oncebeen a dimpled baby in a mother's arms, a chirruping little fat-leggedfellow who tottered across the floor to her with outstretched fingers. Had that innocent child disappeared forever? Or in that other world towhich Jake had so violently gone would he meet again the better self hisevil life had smothered?

Bob loosened the bandanna from his throat and with it covered the face ofthe outlaw. He straightened the body and folded the hands across thebreast. It was not in his power to obliterate from the face the look ofghastly, rigid terror stamped on it during the last terrible moments. 

The young husband went back to his waiting wife. He stood by her stirrupwhile she looked down at him, white-faced. 

"Who was it?" she whispered. 

"Jake Houck, " he told her gravely. "The Utes did it--because he killedBlack Arrow, I reckon. "

She shuddered. A cloud had come over the beautiful world. 

"We'll go on now, " he said gently. "I'll come back later with yourfather. "

They rode in silence up the long hill. At the top of it he drew rein andsmiled at his bride. 

"You'll not let that spoil the day, will you, June? He had it coming, youknow. Houck had gone bad. If it hadn't been the Utes, it would have beenthe law a little later. "

"Yes, but--" She tried to answer his smile, not very successfully. "It'srather--awful, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Let's walk over to the cabin, dear. "

She swung down, into his arms. There she found comfort that dissipatedthe cloud from her mind. When she ran into the house to throw her armsaround Pete Tolliver's neck, she was again radiant. 

"Guess! Guess what!" she ordered her father. 

Pete looked at his daughter and at the bashful, smiling boy. 

"I reckon I done guessed, honeybug, " he answered, stroking her rebellioushair. 

"You're to come and live with us. Isn't he, Bob?"

The young husband nodded sheepishly. He felt that it was a brutal thingto take a daughter from her father. It had not occurred to him before, but old Pete would feel rather out of it now. 

Tolliver looked at Bob over the shoulder of his daughter. 

"You be good to her or I'll--" His voice broke. 

"I sure will, " the husband promised. 

June laughed. "He's the one ought to worry, Dad. I'm the flyaway on thisteam. "

Bob looked at her, gifts in his eyes. "I'm worryin' a heap, " he said, smiling. 

THE END