The Night Riders: A Romance of Early Montana

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER VI

  THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR

  All was still and drowsy about the ranch. Every available hand was outat work upon some set task, part of the daily routine of the cattleworld. Mosquito Bend was a splendid example of discipline, for Jakewas never the man to let his men remain idle. Even Arizona had beenset to herd the milch cows and generally tend the horses remaining inthe barn; and Tresler, too, was further acquainting himself with thecantankerous nature of barbed-wire fencing.

  On this particular afternoon there was nothing about the ranch toindicate the undercurrent of trouble Tresler had so quickly discoveredto be flowing beneath its calm surface. The sun was pouring down uponthe wiltering foliage with a fierceness which had set the insect worlddroning its drowsy melody; the earth was already parching; the sloughswere already dry, and the tall grass therein was rapidly ripeningagainst the season of haying. But in spite of the seeming peace; inspite of the cloudless sky, the pastoral beauty of the scene, thealmost inaudible murmur of the distant river, the tide was flowingswiftly and surely. It was leaping with the roar of a torrent.

  A clatter of horse's hoofs broke up the quiet, and came rattling overthe river trail. The noise reached Jake's ears and set him alert. Herecognized the eager haste, the terrific speed, of the animalapproaching. He rose from his bunk and stood ready, and a look of deepinterest was in his bold black eyes. Suddenly a horseman came intoview. He was leaning well over his horse's neck, urging to a race withwhip and spur. Jake saw him sweep by and breast the rise to therancher's house.

  At the verandah the man flung off his horse, and left the droopingbeast standing while he hammered at the door. There was some delay,and he repeated his summons still more forcibly, adding his voice tohis demand.

  "Hello there!" he called. "Any one in?"

  "Archie Orr," Jake muttered to himself, as he stepped out of his hut.

  The next moment the man at the verandah was caught up in the fullblast of the foreman's half-savage and wholly hectoring protest.

  "What blazin' racket are you raisin' ther'?" he roared, charging upthe hill with heavy, hurried strides. "This ain't Skitter Reach, youdog-gone coyote, nor that ain't your pap's shanty. What's itchin' you,blast you?"

  Archie swung round at the first shout. There was a wild expression onhis somewhat weak face. It was the face of a weak nature suddenlyworked up into the last pitch of frenzy. But even so the approach ofJake was not without its effect. His very presence was full of threatto the weaker man. Archie was no physical coward, but, in that firstmoment of meeting, he felt as if he had been suddenly taken by thecollar, lifted up and shaken, and forcibly set down on his feet again.And his reply came in a tone that voiced the mental process he hadpassed through.

  "I've come for help. I was in Forks last night, and only got home thisafternoon," he answered, with unnatural calmness. Then the check gaveway before his hysterical condition, and Jake's momentary influencewas lost upon him. "I tell you it's Red Mask! It's him and his gang!They've shot my father down; they've burned us out, and driven off ourstock! God's curse on the man! But I'll have him. I'll hunt him down.Ha! ha!" The young man's blue eyes flashed and his face worked as hishysteria rose and threatened to overwhelm him. "You hear?" he shoutedon--"what does it say? Blood for blood. I'll have it! Give me somehelp. Give me horses, and I'll have it! I'll----" His voice had risento a shriek.

  "You'll shut off that damned noise, or"--Jake's ferocious face wasthrust forward, and his fierce eyes glared furiously into theother's--"or git."

  Archie shrank back silenced at once. The effect suited the foreman,and he went on with a sardonic leer--

  "An' you'll have 'blood for blood' o' Red Mask? You? You who was awayboozin' in Forks when you'd a right to ha' been around lookin' to seethat old skinflint of a father o' yours didn't git no hurt. You'regoin' to round up Red Mask; you who ain't got guts enough but to crawlround here fer help to do it. You!"

  A hot reply sprang to the youngster's lips in spite of his fear ofthis man, but it died suddenly as a voice from within the doorwaybroke in upon them.

  "And a right purpose too, Archie."

  Diane stepped out on to the verandah and ranged herself at his side,while her scornful brown eyes sought the foreman's face. There was amoment's pause, then she looked up into the boy's troubled face.

  "You want to see my father?"

  Archie was only eighteen, and though well grown and muscular, he wasstill only a boy.

  "Yes, Miss Diane; I do want to see him. I want to borrow a couple ofhorses from him, and to ask his advice."

  Archie's recent heat and hysteria had soothed under the influence ofthe girl's presence. He now stood bowed and dejected; he appeared tohave suddenly grown old. Jake watched the scene with a sneer on hisbrutal face, but remained silent now that Diane was present.

  "I will rouse him myself," she said quietly, moving toward the door."Yes, you shall see him, Archie. I heard what you said just now, andI'll tell him. But----" She broke off, hesitating. Then she came backto him. "Is--is your father dead, or--only wounded?"

  The boy's head dropped forward, and two great tears rolled slowly downhis cheeks. Diane turned away, and a far-off look came into her steadybrown eyes. There was a silence for a moment, then a deep,heart-broken sob came from the lad at her side. She flashed one hardglance in Jake's direction and turned to her companion, gentlygripping his arm in a manner that expressed a world of womanlysympathy. Her touch, her quiet, strong helpfulness, did more for himthan any formal words of condolence could have done. He lifted hishead and dashed the tears from his face; and the girl smiledencouragement upon him.

  "Wait here," she said; "I will go and fetch father."

  She slipped away, leaving the two men alone. And when she had gone,the foreman's raucous voice sounded harshly on the still air.

  "Say, you ain't smart, neither. We got one of your kidney around herenow. Kind o' reckons to fix the old man through the girl. Mostweak-kneed fellers gamble a pile on petticoats. Wal, I guess you'reright out. Marbolt ain't easy that way. You'll be sorry you fetchedhim from his bed, or I don't know him."

  Archie made no reply. Nor was any more talk possible, for at thatmoment there came the steady tap, tap, of the blind man's stick downthe passage, and the two men faced the door expectantly. The ranchershuffled out on to the verandah. Diane was at his side, and led himstraight over to young Orr. The old man's head was poised alertly fora second; then he turned swiftly in the foreman's direction.

  "Hah! that you, Jake?" He nodded as he spoke, and then turned back tothe other. The blind man's instinct seemed something more than human.

  "Eh? Your father murdered, boy?" Marbolt questioned, without the leastsoftening of tone. "Murdered?"

  Archie gulped down his rising emotion. But there was no life in hisanswer--his words came in a tone of utter hopelessness.

  "Yes, sir; shot down, I gather, in defense of our homestead."

  The steady stare of the rancher's red eyes was hard to support. Archiefelt himself weaken before the personality of this man he had come tosee.

  "Gather?"

  The hardness of his greeting had now changed to the gentleness of tonein which the blind man usually spoke. But the boy drew no confidencefrom it while confronted by those unseeing eyes. It was Diane whounderstood and replied for him.

  "Yes; Archie was in Forks last night, on business, father. He onlylearned what had happened on returning home this afternoon. He--hewants some help."

  "Yes, sir," Archie went on quickly; "only a little help. I came hometo find our homestead burned clean out. Not a roof left to shelter mymother and sister, and not one living beast left upon the place,except the dogs. Oh, my God, it is awful! Mother and Alice weresitting beside the corral gate weeping fit to break their hearts overthe dead body of father when I found them. And the story, as I learnedit, sir, was simple--horribly, terribly simple. They were roused atabout two in the morning by the dogs barking. Father, thinking timberwolves were around, went out with a g
un. He saw nothing till he got tothe corrals. Then mother, watching from her window, saw the flash ofseveral guns, and heard the rattle of their reports. Father dropped.Then the gang of murderers roused out the stock, and some drove itoff, while others wantonly fired the buildings. It was Red Mask, sir,for he came up to the house and ordered mother out before the placewas fired. She is sure it was him because of his mask. She begged himnot to burn her home, but the devil had no remorse; he vouchsafed onlyone reply. Maybe she forced him to an answer with her appeal; maybe heonly spoke to intimidate others who might hear of his words from her.Anyway, he said, 'Your man and you open your mouths too wide aroundthis place. Manson Orr wrote in to the police, and asked forprotection. You won't need it now, neither will he.'" He paused, whilethe horror of his story sank deeply into the heart of at least one ofhis hearers. Then he went on with that eager, nervous fire he had atfirst displayed: "Mr. Marbolt, I look to you to help me. I've gotnothing to keep me now from following this devil of a man. I want toborrow horses, and I'll hunt him down. I'll hunt him down while I've abreath left in my body, sir," he went on, with rising passion. "I'llpay him if it takes me my lifetime! Only lend me the horses, sir. Itis as much to your interest as mine, for he has robbed you before now;your property is no more safe than any other man's. Let us combine tofight him, to bring him down, to measure him his full measure, to sendhim to hell, where he belongs. I'll do this----"

  "Yes, while your mother and sister starve," put in the blind man,drily. Then, as the fire of Archie's passion suddenly sank at thecold, incisive words, and he remained silent and abashed, he went on,in quiet, even tones, while his red eyes were focussed upon hisvisitor's face with disconcerting directness, "No, no; go you--I won'tsay 'home,' but go you to your mother and sister: look after them,care for them, work for them. You owe that to them before any act ofvengeance be made. When you have achieved their comfort, you are atliberty to plunge into any rashness you choose. I am no youngster,Archie Orr, I am a man of years, who has seen, all my life, onlythrough a brain rendered doubly acute by lack of sight, and my adviceis worthy of your consideration. You have nothing more to fear fromRed Mask at present, but if you continue your headlong course you willhave; and, as far as I can make out, his hand is heavy and swift infalling. Go back to your women-folk, I say. You can get no horses fromme for such a foolhardy purpose as you meditate."

  Diane had watched her father closely, and as he finished speaking, shemoved toward the bereaved man and laid a hand upon his arm in gentleappeal.

  "Father is right, Archie. Go back to them, those two lonely,broken-hearted women. You can do all for them if you will. They needall that your kind, honest heart can bestow. It is now that you mustshow the stuff you are made of."

  Archie had turned away; but he looked round and mechanically glanceddown at the brown hand still resting upon his arm. The sight of itheld him for some moments, and when he raised his head a new look wasin his eyes. The sympathy in her tones, the gentle encouragement ofthe few words she had spoken, had completed that which the sound butunsympathetic advice of her father had begun.

  His purpose had been the wild impulse of unstable youth; there was nostrength to it, no real resolution. Besides, he was a gentle-heartedlad, to whom Diane's appeal for his mother and sister wasirresistible.

  "Thank you, Miss Diane," he said, with a profound sigh. "Your kindheart has seen where my anger has been blind. Yes, I will return andhelp my mother. And I thank you, sir," he went on, turning reluctantlyto face the stare of the rancher's eyes again. "You, too, have plainlyshown me my duty, and I shall follow it, but--if ever----"

  "And you'll do well," broke in Jake, with a rough laugh that jarredterribly. "Your father's paid his pound. If his son's wise, he'll hunthis hole."

  Archie's eyes flashed ominously. Diane saw the look, and, in aninstant, drew his attention to his horse, which was moving off towardthe barn.

  "See, Archie," she said, with a gentle smile, "your horse is weary,and is looking for rest."

  The boy read her meaning. He held out his hand impulsively, and thegirl placed hers into it. In a moment his other had closed over it,and he shook it tenderly. Then, without a word, he made off after hishorse.

  The blind man's face was turned in his direction as he went, and whenthe sound of his footsteps had died away, he turned abruptly andtapped his way back to the door. At the threshold he turned upon theforeman.

  "Two days in succession I have been disturbed," he gritted out. "Youare getting past your work, Jake Harnach."

  "Father----" Diane started forward in alarm, but he cut her short.

  "And as for you, miss, remember your place in my house. Go, look toyour duties. Sweep, wash, cook, sew. Those are the things your sex ismade for. What interest have you, dare you have, in that brainlessboy? Let him fight his own battles. It may make a man of him; though Idoubt it. He is nothing to you."

  Diane shrank before the scathing blast of that sightless fury. But sherallied to protest.

  "It is the women-folk, father."

  "Women-folk? Bah!"

  He threw up his hands in ineffable scorn, and shuffled away into thehouse.

  Jake, still smarting under the attack, stood leaning against theverandah post. He was looking away down at the bunkhouse, where agroup of the men were gathered about Archie Orr, who, seated on hishorse, was evidently telling his tale afresh.

  Diane approached him. He did not even turn to meet her.

  "Jake, I want Bess at once. Hitch her to the buckboard, and have hersent round to the kitchen door."

  "What are you goin' to do, my girl?" he asked, without shifting hisgaze.

  "Maybe I shall drive over to see those poor women."

  "Maybe?"

  "Yes."

  "You can't have her."

  Jake turned, and looked down at her from his great height. Archie Orrhad just ridden off.

  Diane returned his look fearlessly, and there was something in thedirectness of her gaze that made the giant look away.

  "I think I can," she said quietly. "Go and see to it now."

  The man started. It seemed as if he were about to bluster. His bold,black eyes flashed ominously, and it was plain from his attitude thata flat and harsh refusal was on his lips. But somehow he didn't sayit. The brutality of his expression slowly changed as he looked ather. A gentle light stole slowly, and it seemed with difficulty, intohis eyes, where it looked as out of place as the love-light in theeyes of a tiger. But there was no mistaking it. However incongruous itwas there, and the lips that had been framing a cruel retort merelygave utterance to a quiet acquiescence.

  "All right. I'll send her round in five minutes."

  And Diane went into the house at once.

  Meanwhile, a great discussion of young Orr's affairs was going on atthe bunkhouse. Arizona had vacated his favorite seat, and was nowholding the floor. His pale face was flushed with a hectic glow ofexcitement. He was taxing his little stock of strength to theuttermost, and, at least, some of those looking on listening to himknew it.

  "I tell you ther' ain't nothin' fer it but to roll up to old blindhulks an' ast him to send us out. Ef this dog-gone skunk's let be,ther' ain't no stock safe. Guess I've had my med'cine from 'em, andI'm jest crazy fer more. I've had to do wi' fellers o' their kidney'fore, I guess. We strung six of 'em up in a day on the same tree downArizona way, as that gray-headed possum, Joe Nelson, well remembers.Say, we jest cleaned our part o' that country right quick. Guess ther'wa'n't a 'bad man' wuth two plugs o' nickel chawin' around when we'dfinished gettin' 'em. Say, this feller's played it long enough, an'I'm goin' right now to see the boss. He's around. Who's comin'?"

  "Yes, an' Archie Orr's a pore sort o' crittur to git left wi' twowomen-folk," said Raw Harris, rising from his upturned bucket andputting forth his argument, regardless of its irrelevance. "Not astick to shelter him--which I mean 'them.' An' not a dog-gone centamong 'em. By G----, Arizona's right."

  "That's it," put in Joe Nelson; "you've hit it. Not a dog-gone cen
tamong 'em, an', what's more, owin' blind hulks a whole heap o' billson mortgage. Say, that was mostly a weak move him askin' the boss ferhelp. Why, I guess old Marbolt hates hisself on'y one shade wuss'n hehated Manson Orr. Say, boys, ef we're askin' to lynch Red Mask, weain't askin' in any fancy name like 'Orr.' Savee?"

  There was silence for a moment while they digested the wisdom of thesuggestion. Then Jacob Smith nodded, and Lew Cawley murmured--

  "Dead gut every time, is Joe."

  This loosened their tongues again until Tresler spoke.

  "See here, boys, you're talking of lynching, and haven't a notion ofhow you're going to get your man. Don't even know where to lay handson him. Do you think Marbolt's going to turn us all loose on thewar-path? Not he. And how are two or three of us going to get a gangof ten or twelve? Besides, I believe it'll be easier to get himwithout a lynching party. Remember he's no ordinary cattle-rustler. Isay lie low, he'll come our way, and then----"

  "That's it, lie low," broke in Joe Nelson, shaking his gray head overa pannikin of tea, and softly blowing a clearing among the dead fliesfloating on its surface. "Maybe y' ain't heard as the sheriff's comearound Forks. Guess he's fixed a station ther'."

  "He's already done so?" asked Tresler.

  "Yup."

  "By Jove! The very thing, boys. Don't roll up. Don't do any lynching.The sheriff's the boy for Red Mask."

  But Arizona, backed by Raw Harris, would have none of it. They were ofthe old-time stock who understood only old-time methods, and cordiallyresented any peaceful solution to the difficulty. They wanted alynching, and no argument would dissuade them. And after muchdiscussion it was Arizona's final word that carried the day.

  "Now, you see, Tresler," he said huskily, for his voice was tired withsustained effort. "You're the remarkablest smart 'tenderfoot' thatever I see. Say, you're a right smart daddy--an' I ain't given tolatherin' soap-suds neither. But ther's suthin's I calc'late that no'tenderfoot,' smart as he may be, is goin' to locate right. Hossthieves is hoss thieves, an' needs stringin'. Ther' ain't nuthin' forit but a rawhide rope fer them fellers. Guess I've seen more'n you'veheerd tell of. Say, boys, who's goin' to see the boss? Guess he'sright ther' on the verandah."

  Though there was no verbal reply as the wild American turned to moveoff, there was a general movement to follow him. Raw Harris startedit. Pannikins were set down upon the ground, and, to a man, the restfollowed in their leader's wake. Tresler went too, but he went onlybecause he knew it would be useless--even dangerous--to hold back. Thegeneral inclination was to follow the lead of this volcanic man.Besides, he had only voiced that which appealed to them all. Thegospel of restraint was not in their natures. Only Joe Nelson reallyendorsed Tresler's opinion. But then Joe was a man who had lived hisyouth out, and had acquired that level-headedness from experiencewhich Tresler possessed instinctively. Besides, he was in touch withDiane. He had lived more than ten years on that ranch, during whichtime he had stood by watching with keenly observant eyes the doings ofthe cattle world about him. But he, too, in spite of his own goodreason, moved on to the verandah with the rest.

  And Jake saw the movement and understood, and he reached the verandahfirst and warned the blind man of their coming.

  And Tresler's prophecy was more than fulfilled. As they came they sawthe rancher rise from his seat. He faced them, a tall, awesome figurein his long, full dressing-gown. His large, clean-cut head, his gray,clipped beard, the long aquiline nose, and, overshadowing all, hisstaring, red eyes; even on Arizona he had a damping effect.

  "Well?" he questioned, as the men halted before him. Then, as noanswer was forthcoming, he repeated his inquiry. "Well?"

  And Arizona stepped to the front. "Wal, boss, it's this a-ways," hebegan. "These rustlers, I guess----"

  But the blind man cut him short. The frowning brows drew closer overthe sightless eyes, which were focussed upon the cowpuncher with aconcentration more overpowering than if their vision had beenunimpaired.

  "Eh? So you've been listening to young Orr," he said, with a quietnessin marked contrast to the expression of his face. "And you want to getafter them?" Then he shook his head, and the curious depression of hisbrows relaxed, and a smile hovered round his mouth. "No, no, boys;it's useless coming to me. Worse than useless. You, Arizona, shouldknow better. There are not enough ranches round here to form alynching party, if one were advisable. And I can't spare men fromhere. Why, to send enough men from here to deal with this gang wouldleave my place at their mercy. Tut, tut, it is impossible. You mustsee it yourselves."

  "But you've been robbed before, sir," Arizona broke out in protest.

  "Yes, yes." There was a grating of impatience in the blind man'svoice, and the smile had vanished. "And I prefer to be robbed of a fewbeeves again rather than run the chance of being burned out by thosescoundrels. I'll have no argument about the matter. I can spare nohand among you. I'll not police this district for anybody. Youunderstand--for anybody. I will not stop you--any of you"--his wordscame with a subtle fierceness now, and were directed at Arizona--"butof this I assure you, any man who leaves this ranch to set out on anywild-goose chase after these rustlers leaves it for good. That's all Ihave to say."

  Arizona was about to retort hotly, but Tresler, who was standing closeup to him, plucked at his shirt-sleeve, and, strangely enough, hisinterference had its effect. The man glared round, but when he saw whoit was that had interrupted him, he made no further effort to speak.The wild man of the prairie was feeling the influence of a stronger,or, at least, a steadier nature than his own. And Jake's lynx eyeswatching saw the movement, and he understood.

  The men moved reluctantly away. Their moody looks and slouching gaitloudly voiced their feelings. No words passed between them until theywere well out of ear-shot. And Tresler realized now the wonderfulpower of brain behind the sightless eyes of the rancher. Now, heunderstood something of the strength which had fought the battle,sightless though he was, of those early days; now he comprehended theman who could employ a man of Jake's character, and have strengthenough to control him. That afternoon's exhibition made a profoundimpression on him.

  Their supper was finished before they set out for the house, and nowthe men, murmuring, discontented, and filled with resentment againstthe rancher, loafed idly around the bunkhouse. They smoked and chewedand discussed the matter as angry men who are thwarted in their planswill ever do. Tresler and Joe alone remained quiet. Tresler, for thereason that a definite plan was gradually forming in his brain out ofthe chaos of events, and Joe because he was watching the other for hisown obscure reasons.

  The sun had set when Tresler separated himself from his companions.Making his way down past the lower corrals he took himself to theford. Joe thoughtfully watched him go.

  Seated on a fallen tree-trunk Tresler pondered long and deeply. He wasthinking of Joe's information that the sheriff had at last set up astation at Forks. Why should he not carry his story to him? Why shouldhe not take this man into his confidence, and so work out the trappingof the gang? And, if Jake were----

  He had no time to proceed further. His thoughts were interrupted bythe sound of wheels, followed, a moment later, by the splash of ahorse crossing the ford. He turned in the direction whence the soundcame, and beheld Bessie hauling a buckboard up the bank of the river;at the same instant he recognized the only occupant of the vehicle. Itwas Diane returning from her errand of mercy.

  Tresler sprang to his feet. He doffed his prairie hat as thebuckboard drew abreast of him. Nor was he unmindful of the suddenflush that surged to the girl's cheeks as she recognized him. Withoutany intention Diane checked the mare, and, a moment later, realizingwhat she had done, she urged her on with unnecessary energy. ButTresler had no desire that she should pass him in that casual fashion,and, with a disarming smile, hailed her.

  "Don't change a good mind, Miss Marbolt," he cried.

  Whereat the blush returned to the girl's cheek intensified, for sheknew that he had seen her intention. This time, however, she pulled up
decidedly, and turned a smiling face to him.

  "This is better than I bargained for," he went on. "I came here tothink the afternoon's events out, and--I meet you. I had no idea youwere out."

  "I felt that Bess wanted exercise," the girl answered evasively.

  Without asking herself why, Diane felt pleased at meeting this man.Their first encounter had been no ordinary one. From the beginning heseemed to link himself with her life. For her their hours ofacquaintance might have been years; years of mutual help andconfidence. However, she gathered her reins up as though to drive on.Tresler promptly stayed her.

  "No, don't go yet, Miss Marbolt, please. Pleasures that comeunexpectedly are pleasures indeed. I feel sure you will not cast meback upon my gloomy thoughts."

  Diane let the reins fall into her lap.

  "So your thoughts were gloomy; well, I don't wonder at it. There aregloomy things happening. I was out driving, and thought I would lookin at Mosquito Reach. It has been razed to the ground."

  "You have been to see--and help--young Orr's mother and sister? I knowit. It was like you, Miss Marbolt," Tresler said, with a genuine lookof admiration at the dark little face so overshadowed by the sun-hat.

  "Don't be so ready to credit me with virtues I do not possess. Wewomen are curious. Curiosity is one of our most pronounced features.Poor souls--their home is gone. Utterly--utterly gone. Oh, Mr.Tresler, what are we to do? We cannot remain silent, and yet--we don'tknow. We can prove nothing."

  "And what has become of them--I mean Mrs. Orr and her daughter?"Tresler asked, for the moment ignoring the girl's question.

  "They have gone into Forks."

  "And food and money?"

  "I have seen to that." Diane shrugged her shoulders to make light ofwhat she had done, but Tresler would not be put off.

  "Bless you for that," he said, with simple earnestness. "I knew I wasright." Then he reverted abruptly to her question. "But we can dosomething; the sheriff has come to Forks."

  "Yes, I know." Diane's tone suddenly became eager, almost hopeful."And father knows, and he is going to send in a letter toFyles--Sheriff Fyles is the great prairie detective, and is in chargeof Forks--welcoming him, and inviting him out here. He is going totell him all he knows of these rustlers, and so endeavor to set him ontheir track. Father laughs at the idea of the sheriff catching thesemen. He says that they--the rustlers--are no ordinary gang, but clevermen, and well organized. But he thinks that if he gets Fyles around itwill save his property."

  "And your father is wise. Yes, it will certainly have that effect; butI, too, have a little idea that I have been working at, and--MissMarbolt, forgive the seeming impertinence, but I want to discuss Jakeagain; this time from a personal point of view. You dislike Jake;more, you have shown me that you fear him."

  The girl hesitated before replying. This man's almost brusque mannerof driving straight to his point was somewhat alarming. He gave her noloophole. If she discussed the matter with him at all it must befully, or she must refuse to answer him.

  "I suppose I do fear him," she said at last with a sigh. Then her facesuddenly lit up with an angry glow. "I fear him as any girl would fearthe man who, in defiance of her expressed hatred, thrusts hisattentions upon her. I fear him because of father's blindness. I fearhim because he hopes in his secret heart some day to own this ranch,these lands, all these splendid cattle, our fortune. Father will begone then. How? I don't know. And I--I shall be Jake's slave. Theseare the reasons why I fear Jake, Mr. Tresler, since you insist onknowing."

  "I thank you, Miss Marbolt." The gentle tone at once dispelled thegirl's resentment. "You have suspicions which may prove to be right.It was for this reason I asked you to discuss Jake. One thing moreand I'll have done. This Joe Nelson, he is very shrewd, he is in closecontact with you. How far is he to be trusted?"

  "To any length; with your life, Mr. Tresler," the girl said withenthusiasm. "Joe is nobody's enemy but his own, poor fellow. I amashamed to admit it, but I have long since realized that when thingsbother me so that I cannot bear them all alone, it is Joe that I lookto for help. He is so kind. Oh, Mr. Tresler, you cannot understand thegentleness, the sympathy of his honest old heart. I am very, very fondof Joe."

  The man abruptly moved from his stand at the side of the buckboard,and looked along the trail in the direction of the ranch. His actionwas partly to check an impulse which the girl's manner had roused inhim, and partly because his quick ears had caught the sound of someone approaching. He was master of himself in a moment, however, and,returning, smiled up into the serious eyes before him.

  "Well, Joe shall help me," he said. "He shall help me as he has helpedyou. If----" he broke off, listening. Then with great deliberation hecame close up to the buckboard. "Miss--Diane," he said, and the girl'slids lowered before the earnestness of his gaze, "you shallnever--while I live--be the slave of Jake Harnach."

  Nor had Tresler time to move away before a tall figure rounded thebend of the trail. In the dusk he mistook the newcomer for Jake, then,as he saw how slim he was, he realized his mistake.

  The man came right up to the buckboard with swift, almost stealthystrides. The dark olive of his complexion, the high cheek-bones, thedelicately chiseled, aquiline nose, the perfectly penciled eyebrowssurmounting the quick, keen, handsome black eyes; these thingscombined with the lithe, sinuous grace of an admirably poised bodymade him a figure of much attraction.

  The man ignored Tresler, and addressed the girl in the buckboard in atone that made the former's blood boil.

  "The boss, him raise hell. Him say, 'I mak' her wish she not been bornany more.' Him say, 'Go you, Anton, an' find her, an' you not leaveher but bring her back.' Ho, the boss, your father, he mad. Hah?" Thehalf-breed grinned, and displayed a flashing set of teeth. "So I go,"he went on, still smiling in his impudent manner. "I look out. I seethe buckboard come down to the river. I know you come. I see fromthere back"--he pointed away to the bush--"you talk with this man, an'I wait. So!"

  Diane was furious. Her gentle brown eyes flashed, and two brightpatches of color burned on her cheeks. The half-breed watched hercarelessly. Turning to Tresler she held out her hand abruptly.

  "Good-night, Mr. Tresler," she said quietly. Then she chirruped to herlight-hearted mare and drove off.

  Anton looked after her. "Sacre!" he cried, with a light shrug. "She isso mad--so mad. Voila!" and he leisurely followed in the wake of thebuckboard.

  And Tresler looked after him. Then it was that his thoughts revertedto the scene in the saloon at Forks. So this was Anton--"Black"Anton--the man who had slid into the country without any one knowingit. He remembered Slum Ranks's words and description. This was the manwho had the great Jake's measure.