Justin Wingate, Ranchman

by John Harvey Whitson

  CHAPTER XIV

  IN THE STORM

  The threatened rainstorm broke, bringing early night, as Justinreached home. Lemuel Fogg was at the ranch house with Davison. Fogg'sshining photograph wagon had been brought out and a pair of horseshitched to it.

  "Ben isn't here," said Davison; "I suppose he's in town, looking afterelection matters; so, as soon as you can get those things into thehouse, I want you to ride along the line fence and see that everythingis all right, for we don't want any cattle breaking out and makingtrouble with the farmers just now. Fogg and I are going up the trailtogether in his wagon. He wants to get a photograph. We'll be near thedam, or a short distance below it, where Jasper's lateral makes outinto his fields. I think you will find us at the bridge there over thelateral, and you can come there and make your report, when you'velooked at the fence. Report promptly, if there's any trouble."

  Fogg came out of the house in oil hat and slicker, buttoned to thechin against the storm. He resembled a yellow, overgrown Santa Claus,minus the beard.

  "Hello, Justin!" he cried, advancing and extending his hand, as Justinswung a bag of meal to the ground. "We're in for a good ground-soaker,I guess. The lightning is beginning to play fine. It's great overthere on the mountain. When she gets to going good I'll try to nailone of the flashes down on a negative. I've tried a dozen times andfailed; now I'm going to try again."

  Having shaken hands, Fogg ran heavily toward the wine-colored wagon;the rain was beginning to roar, and the interior of the wagon, as heknew, was as tight as a house. Then the shining wagon whirled away,with the rain drops glistening on it, revealed by the lightning, whichwas already waving fiery swords in the sky.

  Justin followed on his cow-pony as quickly as he could, garbed likeFogg in a yellow oil slicker, and galloped along the wire fence thatran here toward the town. It was not a pleasant ride. The gusty rainbeat in his face and the wind blew a tempest. The lightning,increasing in frequency, showed the fence intact, as far as the lowerend of the deep chasm called the Black Canon, which cut through themesa above Jasper's. There was no need to go farther than this, for hehad inspected that portion of the fence earlier in the day.

  The storm was in full swing before he reached Jasper's lateral. Hefollowed it until he came to the tiny bridge that spanned it, andthere found the photograph wagon. Sheltered within the wagon, Fogg hadtrained his camera toward the mountain. There the play of thelightning had become something stupendous. Davison was trying to holdthe bronchos and keep them quiet in the beating rain.

  "I've taken several exposures already," Fogg announced, when Justinmade his appearance and his report. "If those horses can be kept stillanother minute I'll try it there just over the dam."

  A blinding flash burned across the sky. It was so vivid that Justinclosed his eyes against it. The burst of the thunder, like theexplosion of a cannon, was thrown back by the stony walls of themountain, and rolled away, booming and bellowing in the clouds. Thethunder roll was followed shortly by a confused and jarring crash.

  "I got that flash all right, I think," said Fogg, "and there goes theside of the mountain!"

  Landslides occurred occasionally on the sides of the mountain, andFogg thought this was one.

  "No," Davison shouted, "it's--the dam!"

  Another crash was heard, accompanied by a popping of breaking timbers;then, with a roar like a cyclone, the dam went out, sweeping down theswollen stream in a great tangle of logs and splintered timbers.Justin galloped toward the stream.

  "Better look out there, Justin," Fogg bellowed at him. "That willbring the river out on the jump, and you don't want to get caught byit!"

  Justin heard the wagon being driven away from the little bridge. Itwas an exciting minute, yet he had time to think with regret of whatthe loss of the dam would mean to the farmers. His reflections werecut short by a scream, followed by a cry for help.

  Then in the lightning's white glare he saw on the ground before him awoman clinging to the prostrate form of a man. Justin galloped wildly,and reaching them leaped down. To his amazement the woman was LucyDavison and the man was Ben. She had apparently dragged him beyond thereach of the water that splashed and rolled in a wild flood but a fewyards away.

  "Help me," she said, without explanation. "He--he is hurt, I think."

  Justin had his arms round Ben instantly, and began to lift him. Therain was falling in sheets, and both Lucy and Ben were drenched. Benbegan to help himself, and climbed unsteadily to his feet, withJustin's assistance. Only in the intervals between the vivid lightningflashes could Justin see either Ben or Lucy.

  "I'm--I'm all right!" said Ben, staggering heavily.

  "I'm afraid he was hit by one of the timbers of the dam," Lucydeclared.

  To Justin she seemed abnormally brave. She took hold of Ben's arm andassisted in supporting him.

  "We must get him to the house--to Jasper's," she urged, tremulously.

  "The photograph wagon is right over there," Justin informed her."We'll take him to that. If you'll lead my horse maybe I can carryhim."

  "I don't need to be carried," said Ben, stubbornly. "I tell you I'mall right. I slipped and fell--that's all. Take your hands off of me;I can walk."

  Lucy clung to him, and Justin did not release his hold. He hallooednow to Davison and Fogg. They did not hear him in the roar of thestorm, but by the glare of the lightning they saw the little groupswaying near the margin of the wild stream and drove back to discoverthe meaning of the strange sight. They shouted questions of surprise,as they came up. Justin had not attempted to voice his bewilderment.

  Lucy became the spokesman of the group.

  "Uncle Philip, we will explain later," she said, with emphasis. "Thefirst thing is to get Ben home."

  "Yes, that's so!" Davison admitted, his anxiety for Ben betrayed inhis shaking voice.

  Ben was helped into the photograph wagon; where he would not lie down,but insisted on sitting in the driver's seat. Justin assisted Lucyinto the wagon. It was a large wagon, in which Fogg had lived andslept in the old days when he went about taking photographs andselling curios. Justin wished he might climb in there by Lucy's side,and do something, or say something, that would allay her evidentdistress. Her voice was unnaturally hard, and her manner singularlyabrupt and emphatic. He knew that she was suffering.

  And he had not known she was in Paradise Valley! That was the mostinexplicable of all--that she should be there and no one on the ranchaware of the fact.

  "She must have arrived on the evening train," was his conclusion.

  However, that explained little. How did she and Ben chance to bethere by the river? Had they been walking home from the towntogether--through the storm? Where was Ben's pony? That might haveescaped from him, or he might have left it somewhere; but the otherquestion was not to be answered readily. The whole subject was socloaked in the mysterious that it seemed to defy analysis.

  The storm still raged, with sheets of beating rain, with lightningfire and roll of thunder, as the wagon moved swiftly in the directionof the ranch house along the soaked and gullied trail. And behind it,galloping on his cow-pony, rode Justin, pondering the meaning and themystery of the things he had seen and heard.

  Yet through it all there was a certain sense of joy and gratification.He had been able to serve the woman he loved, and she was here athome. The first long, long separation was ended--she was home again.