The Man of the Forest

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER XVII

  When spring came at last and the willows drooped green and fresh overthe brook and the range rang with bray of burro and whistle of stallion,old Al Auchincloss had been a month in his grave.

  To Helen it seemed longer. The month had been crowded with work, events,and growing, more hopeful duties, so that it contained a worldof living. The uncle had not been forgotten, but the innumerablerestrictions to development and progress were no longer manifest.Beasley had not presented himself or any claim upon Helen; and she,gathering confidence day by day, began to believe all that purport oftrouble had been exaggerated.

  In this time she had come to love her work and all that pertained to it.The estate was large. She had no accurate knowledge of how many acresshe owned, but it was more than two thousand. The fine, old, ramblingranch-house, set like a fort on the last of the foot-hills, corrals andfields and barns and meadows, and the rolling green range beyond, andinnumerable sheep, horses, cattle--all these belonged to Helen, to herever-wondering realization and ever-growing joy. Still, she was afraidto let herself go and be perfectly happy. Always there was the fear thathad been too deep and strong to forget so soon.

  This bright, fresh morning, in March, Helen came out upon the porch torevel a little in the warmth of sunshine and the crisp, pine-scentedwind that swept down from the mountains. There was never a morning thatshe did not gaze mountainward, trying to see, with a folly she realized,if the snow had melted more perceptibly away on the bold white ridge.For all she could see it had not melted an inch, and she wouldnot confess why she sighed. The desert had become green and fresh,stretching away there far below her range, growing dark and purple inthe distance with vague buttes rising. The air was full of sound--notesof blackbirds and the baas of sheep, and blasts from the corrals, andthe clatter of light hoofs on the court below.

  Bo was riding in from the stables. Helen loved to watch her on one ofthose fiery little mustangs, but the sight was likewise given to rousingapprehensions. This morning Bo appeared particularly bent on frighteningHelen. Down the lane Carmichael appeared, waving his arms, and Helenat once connected him with Bo's manifest desire to fly away from thatparticular place. Since that day, a month back, when Bo had confessedher love for Carmichael, she and Helen had not spoken of it or of thecowboy. The boy and girl were still at odds. But this did not worryHelen. Bo had changed much for the better, especially in that shedevoted herself to Helen and to her work. Helen knew that all wouldturn out well in the end, and so she had been careful of her ratherprecarious position between these two young firebrands.

  Bo reined in the mustang at the porch steps. She wore a buckskinriding-suit which she had made herself, and its soft gray with thetouches of red beads was mightily becoming to her. Then she had grownconsiderably during the winter and now looked too flashing and pretty toresemble a boy, yet singularly healthy and strong and lithe. Red spotsshone in her cheeks and her eyes held that ever-dangerous blaze.

  "Nell, did you give me away to that cowboy?" she demanded.

  "Give you away!" exclaimed Helen, blankly.

  "Yes. You know I told you--awhile back--that I was wildly in love withhim. Did you give me away--tell on me?"

  She might have been furious, but she certainly was not confused.

  "Why, Bo! How could you? No. I did not," replied Helen.

  "Never gave him a hint?"

  "Not even a hint. You have my word for that. Why? What's happened?"

  "He makes me sick."

  Bo would not say any more, owing to the near approach of the cowboy.

  "Mawnin', Miss Nell," he drawled. "I was just tellin' this here MissBo-Peep Rayner--"

  "Don't call me that!" broke in Bo, with fire in her voice.

  "Wal, I was just tellin' her thet she wasn't goin' off on any more ofthem long rides. Honest now, Miss Nell, it ain't safe, an'--"

  "You're not my boss," retorted Bo.

  "Indeed, sister, I agree with him. You won't obey me."

  "Reckon some one's got to be your boss," drawled Carmichael. "Shore Iain't hankerin' for the job. You could ride to Kingdom Come or off amongthe Apaches--or over here a ways"--at this he grinned knowingly--"oranywheres, for all I cared. But I'm workin' for Miss Nell, an' she'sboss. An' if she says you're not to take them rides--you won't. Savvythat, miss?"

  It was a treat for Helen to see Bo look at the cowboy.

  "Mis-ter Carmichael, may I ask how you are going to prevent me fromriding where I like?"

  "Wal, if you're goin' worse locoed this way I'll keep you off'n a hossif I have to rope you an' tie you up. By golly, I will!"

  His dry humor was gone and manifestly he meant what he said.

  "Wal," she drawled it very softly and sweetly, but venomously,"if--you--ever--touch--me again!"

  At this he flushed, then made a quick, passionate gesture with his hand,expressive of heat and shame.

  "You an' me will never get along," he said, with a dignity full ofpathos. "I seen thet a month back when you changed sudden-like to me.But nothin' I say to you has any reckonin' of mine. I'm talkin' for yoursister. It's for her sake. An' your own.... I never told her an' I nevertold you thet I've seen Riggs sneakin' after you twice on them desertrides. Wal, I tell you now."

  The intelligence apparently had not the slightest effect on Bo. ButHelen was astonished and alarmed.

  "Riggs! Oh, Bo, I've seen him myself--riding around. He does not meanwell. You must be careful."

  "If I ketch him again," went on Carmichael, with his mouth lining hard,"I'm goin' after him."

  He gave her a cool, intent, piercing look, then he dropped his head andturned away, to stride back toward the corrals.

  Helen could make little of the manner in which her sister watched thecowboy pass out of sight.

  "A month back--when I changed sudden-like," mused Bo. "I wonder what hemeant by that.... Nell, did I change--right after the talk you had withme--about him?"

  "Indeed you did, Bo," replied Helen. "But it was for the better. Onlyhe can't see it. How proud and sensitive he is! You wouldn't guess itat first. Bo, your reserve has wounded him more than your flirting. Hethinks it's indifference."

  "Maybe that 'll be good for him," declared Bo. "Does he expect me tofall on his neck? He's that thick-headed! Why, he's the locoed one, notme."

  "I'd like to ask you, Bo, if you've seen how he has changed?" queriedHelen, earnestly. "He's older. He's worried. Either his heart isbreaking for you or else he fears trouble for us. I fear it's both. Howhe watches you! Bo, he knows all you do--where you go. That about Riggssickens me."

  "If Riggs follows me and tries any of his four-flush desperado gameshe'll have his hands full," said Bo, grimly. "And that without my cowboyprotector! But I just wish Riggs would do something. Then we'll see whatLas Vegas Tom Carmichael cares. Then we'll see!"

  Bo bit out the last words passionately and jealously, then she liftedher bridle to the spirited mustang.

  "Nell, don't you fear for me," she said. "I can take care of myself."

  Helen watched her ride away, all but willing to confess that theremight be truth in what Bo said. Then Helen went about her work, whichconsisted of routine duties as well as an earnest study to familiarizeherself with continually new and complex conditions of ranch life. Everyday brought new problems. She made notes of all that she observed, andall that was told her, which habit she had found, after a few weeks oftrial, was going to be exceedingly valuable to her. She did not intendalways to be dependent upon the knowledge of hired men, however faithfulsome of them might be.

  This morning on her rounds she had expected developments of some kind,owing to the presence of Roy Beeman and two of his brothers, who hadarrived yesterday. And she was to discover that Jeff Mulvey, accompaniedby six of his co-workers and associates, had deserted her without a wordor even sending for their pay. Carmichael had predicted this. Helen hadhalf doubted. It was a relief now to be confronted with facts, howeverdisturbing. She had fortified herself to withstand a great deal moretr
ouble than had happened. At the gateway of the main corral, a hugeinclosure fenced high with peeled logs, she met Roy Beeman, lasso inhand, the same tall, lean, limping figure she remembered so well.Sight of him gave her an inexplicable thrill--a flashing memory of anunforgettable night ride. Roy was to have charge of the horses on theranch, of which there were several hundred, not counting many lost onrange and mountain, or the unbranded colts.

  Roy took off his sombrero and greeted her. This Mormon had a courtesyfor women that spoke well for him. Helen wished she had more employeeslike him.

  "It's jest as Las Vegas told us it 'd be," he said, regretfully. "Mulveyan' his pards lit out this mornin'. I'm sorry, Miss Helen. Reckon thet'sall because I come over."

  "I heard the news," replied Helen. "You needn't be sorry, Roy, for I'mnot. I'm glad. I want to know whom I can trust."

  "Las Vegas says we're shore in for it now."

  "Roy, what do you think?"

  "I reckon so. Still, Las Vegas is powerful cross these days an' alwayslookin' on the dark side. With us boys, now, it's sufficient unto theday is the evil thereof. But, Miss Helen, if Beasley forces the dealthere will be serious trouble. I've seen thet happen. Four or five yearsago Beasley rode some greasers off their farms an' no one ever knowed ifhe had a just claim."

  "Beasley has no claim on my property. My uncle solemnly swore that onhis death-bed. And I find nothing in his books or papers of those yearswhen he employed Beasley. In fact, Beasley was never uncle's partner.The truth is that my uncle took Beasley up when he was a poor, homelessboy."

  "So my old dad says," replied Roy. "But what's right don't alwaysprevail in these parts."

  "Roy, you're the keenest man I've met since I came West. Tell me whatyou think will happen."

  Beeman appeared flattered, but he hesitated to reply. Helen had longbeen aware of the reticence of these outdoor men.

  "I reckon you mean cause an' effect, as Milt Dale would say," respondedRoy, thoughtfully.

  "Yes. If Beasley attempts to force me off my ranch what will happen?"

  Roy looked up and met her gaze. Helen remembered that singularstillness, intentness of his face.

  "Wal, if Dale an' John get here in time I reckon we can bluff thetBeasley outfit."

  "You mean my friends--my men would confront Beasley--refuse hisdemands--and if necessary fight him off?"

  "I shore do," replied Roy.

  "But suppose you're not all here? Beasley would be smart enough tochoose an opportune time. Suppose he did put me off and take possession?What then?"

  "Then it 'd only be a matter of how soon Dale or Carmichael--or I--gotto Beasley."

  "Roy! I feared just that. It haunts me. Carmichael asked me to let himgo pick a fight with Beasley. Asked me, just as he would ask me abouthis work! I was shocked. And now you say Dale--and you--"

  Helen choked in her agitation.

  "Miss Helen, what else could you look for? Las Vegas is in love withMiss Bo. Shore he told me so. An' Dale's in love with you!... Why, youcouldn't stop them any more 'n you could stop the wind from blowin' downa pine, when it got ready.... Now, it's some different with me. I'm aMormon an' I'm married. But I'm Dale's pard, these many years. An'I care a powerful sight for you an' Miss Bo. So I reckon I'd draw onBeasley the first chance I got."

  Helen strove for utterance, but it was denied her. Roy's simplestatement of Dale's love had magnified her emotion by completelychanging its direction. She forgot what she had felt wretched about. Shecould not look at Roy.

  "Miss Helen, don't feel bad," he said, kindly. "Shore you're not toblame. Your comin' West hasn't made any difference in Beasley's fate,except mebbe to hurry it a little. My dad is old, an' when he talksit's like history. He looks back on happenin's. Wal, it's the nature ofhappenin's that Beasley passes away before his prime. Them of his breeddon't live old in the West.... So I reckon you needn't feel bad orworry. You've got friends."

  Helen incoherently thanked him, and, forgetting her usual round ofcorrals and stables, she hurried back toward the house, deeply stirred,throbbing and dim-eyed, with a feeling she could not control. Roy Beemanhad made a statement that had upset her equilibrium. It seemed simpleand natural, yet momentous and staggering. To hear that Dale lovedher--to hear it spoken frankly, earnestly, by Dale's best friend, wasstrange, sweet, terrifying. But was it true? Her own consciousness hadadmitted it. Yet that was vastly different from a man's open statement.No longer was it a dear dream, a secret that seemed hers alone. How shehad lived on that secret hidden deep in her breast!

  Something burned the dimness from her eyes as she looked toward themountains and her sight became clear, telescopic with its intensity.Magnificently the mountains loomed. Black inroads and patches on theslopes showed where a few days back all bad been white. The snow wasmelting fast. Dale would soon be free to ride down to Pine. And that wasan event Helen prayed for, yet feared as she had never feared anything.

  The noonday dinner-bell startled Helen from a reverie that was apleasant aftermath of her unrestraint. How the hours had flown! Thismorning at least must be credited to indolence.

  Bo was not in the dining-room, nor in her own room, nor was she insight from window or door. This absence had occurred before, but notparticularly to disturb Helen. In this instance, however, she grewworried. Her nerves presaged strain. There was an overcharge ofsensibility in her feelings or a strange pressure in the veryatmosphere. She ate dinner alone, looking her apprehension, which wasnot mitigated by the expressive fears of old Maria, the Mexican womanwho served her.

  After dinner she sent word to Roy and Carmichael that they had betterride out to look for Bo. Then Helen applied herself resolutely to herbooks until a rapid clatter of hoofs out in the court caused her to jumpup and hurry to the porch. Roy was riding in.

  "Did you find her?" queried Helen, hurriedly.

  "Wasn't no track or sign of her up the north range," replied Roy, as hedismounted and threw his bridle. "An' I was ridin' back to take up hertracks from the corral an' trail her. But I seen Las Vegas comin' an' hewaved his sombrero. He was comin' up from the south. There he is now."

  Carmichael appeared swinging into the lane. He was mounted on Helen'sbig black Ranger, and he made the dust fly.

  "Wal, he's seen her, thet's shore," vouchsafed Roy, with relief, asCarmichael rode up.

  "Miss Nell, she's comin'," said the cowboy, as he reined in andslid down with his graceful single motion. Then in a violent action,characteristic of him, he slammed his sombrero down on the porch andthrew up both arms. "I've a hunch it's come off!"

  "Oh, what?" exclaimed Helen.

  "Now, Las Vegas, talk sense," expostulated Roy. "Miss Helen is shorenervous to-day. Has anythin' happened?"

  "I reckon, but I don't know what," replied Carmichael, drawing a longbreath. "Folks, I must be gettin' old. For I shore felt orful queer tillI seen Bo. She was ridin' down the ridge across the valley. Ridin' somefast, too, an' she'll be here right off, if she doesn't stop in thevillage."

  "Wal, I hear her comin' now," said Roy. "An'--if you asked me I'd sayshe WAS ridin' some fast."

  Helen heard the light, swift, rhythmic beat of hoofs, and then out onthe curve of the road that led down to Pine she saw Bo's mustang, whitewith lather, coming on a dead run.

  "Las Vegas, do you see any Apaches?" asked Roy, quizzingly.

  The cowboy made no reply, but he strode out from the porch, directlyin front of the mustang. Bo was pulling hard on the bridle, and had himslowing down, but not controlled. When he reached the house it couldeasily be seen that Bo had pulled him to the limit of her strength,which was not enough to halt him. Carmichael lunged for the bridle and,seizing it, hauled him to a standstill.

  At close sight of Bo Helen uttered a startled cry. Bo was white; hersombrero was gone and her hair undone; there were blood and dirt onher face, and her riding-suit was torn and muddy. She had evidentlysustained a fall. Roy gazed at her in admiring consternation, butCarmichael never looked at her at all. Apparently he was examining th
ehorse. "Well, help me off--somebody," cried Bo, peremptorily. Her voicewas weak, but not her spirit.

  Roy sprang to help her off, and when she was down it developed that shewas lame.

  "Oh, Bo! You've had a tumble," exclaimed Helen, anxiously, and she ranto assist Roy. They led her up the porch and to the door. There sheturned to look at Carmichael, who was still examining the spent mustang.

  "Tell him--to come in," she whispered.

  "Hey, there, Las Vegas!" called Roy. "Rustle hyar, will you?"

  When Bo had been led into the sitting-room and seated in a chairCarmichael entered. His face was a study, as slowly he walked up to Bo.

  "Girl, you--ain't hurt?" he asked, huskily.

  "It's no fault of yours that I'm not crippled--or dead or worse,"retorted Bo. "You said the south range was the only safe ride for me.And there--I--it happened."

  She panted a little and her bosom heaved. One of her gauntlets was gone,and the bare band, that was bruised and bloody, trembled as she held itout.

  "Dear, tell us--are you badly hurt?" queried Helen, with hurriedgentleness.

  "Not much. I've had a spill," replied Bo. "But oh! I'm mad--I'mboiling!"

  She looked as if she might have exaggerated her doubt of injuries, butcertainly she had not overestimated her state of mind. Any blaze Helenhad heretofore seen in those quick eyes was tame compared to this one.It actually leaped. Bo was more than pretty then. Manifestly Roy wasadmiring her looks, but Carmichael saw beyond her charm. And slowly hewas growing pale.

  "I rode out the south range--as I was told," began Bo, breathing hardand trying to control her feelings. "That's the ride you usually take,Nell, and you bet--if you'd taken it to-day--you'd not be here now....About three miles out I climbed off the range up that cedar slope. Ialways keep to high ground. When I got up I saw two horsemen ride outof some broken rocks off to the east. They rode as if to come between meand home. I didn't like that. I circled south. About a mile farther on Ispied another horseman and he showed up directly in front of me and camealong slow. That I liked still less. It might have been accident, but itlooked to me as if those riders had some intent. All I could do was headoff to the southeast and ride. You bet I did ride. But I got into roughground where I'd never been before. It was slow going. At last I madethe cedars and here I cut loose, believing I could circle ahead of thosestrange riders and come round through Pine. I had it wrong."

  Here she hesitated, perhaps for breath, for she had spoken rapidly, orperhaps to get better hold on her subject. Not improbably the effect shewas creating on her listeners began to be significant. Roy sat absorbed,perfectly motionless, eyes keen as steel, his mouth open. Carmichaelwas gazing over Bo's head, out of the window, and it seemed that hemust know the rest of her narrative. Helen knew that her own wide-eyedattention alone would have been all-compelling inspiration to Bo Rayner.

  "Sure I had it wrong," resumed Bo. "Pretty soon heard a horse behind. Ilooked back. I saw a big bay riding down on me. Oh, but he was running!He just tore through the cedars. ... I was scared half out of my senses.But I spurred and beat my mustang. Then began a race! Rough going--thickcedars--washes and gullies I had to make him run--to keep my saddle--topick my way. Oh-h-h! but it was glorious! To race for fun--that'sone thing; to race for your life is another! My heart was in mymouth--choking me. I couldn't have yelled. I was as cold as ice--dizzysometimes--blind others--then my stomach turned--and I couldn't get mybreath. Yet the wild thrills I had!... But I stuck on and held my ownfor several miles--to the edge of the cedars. There the big horse gainedon me. He came pounding closer--perhaps as close as a hundred yards--Icould hear him plain enough. Then I had my spill. Oh, my mustangtripped--threw me 'way over his head. I hit light, but slid far--andthat's what scraped me so. I know my knee is raw.... When I got to myfeet the big horse dashed up, throwing gravel all over me--and his riderjumped off.... Now who do you think he was?"

  Helen knew, but she did not voice her conviction. Carmichael knewpositively, yet he kept silent. Roy was smiling, as if the narrativetold did not seem so alarming to him.

  "Wal, the fact of you bein' here, safe an' sound, sorta makes nodifference who thet son-of-a-gun was," he said.

  "Riggs! Harve Riggs!" blazed Bo. "The instant I recognized him I gotover my scare. And so mad I burned all through like fire. I don't knowwhat I said, but it was wild--and it was a whole lot, you bet.

  "You sure can ride,' he said.

  "I demanded why he had dared to chase me, and he said he had animportant message for Nell. This was it: 'Tell your sister that Beasleymeans to put her off an' take the ranch. If she'll marry me I'll blockhis deal. If she won't marry me, I'll go in with Beasley.' Then he toldme to hurry home and not to breathe a word to any one except Nell. Well,here I am--and I seem to have been breathing rather fast."

  She looked from Helen to Roy and from Roy to Las Vegas. Her smile wasfor the latter, and to any one not overexcited by her story that smilewould have told volumes.

  "Wal, I'll be doggoned!" ejaculated Roy, feelingly.

  Helen laughed.

  "Indeed, the working of that man's mind is beyond me.... Marry him tosave my ranch? I wouldn't marry him to save my life!"

  Carmichael suddenly broke his silence.

  "Bo, did you see the other men?"

  "Yes. I was coming to that," she replied. "I caught a glimpse ofthem back in the cedars. The three were together, or, at least, threehorsemen were there. They had halted behind some trees. Then on the wayhome I began to think. Even in my fury I had received impressions. Riggswas SURPRISED when I got up. I'll bet he had not expected me to be who Iwas. He thought I was NELL!... I look bigger in this buckskin outfit. Myhair was up till I lost my hat, and that was when I had the tumble. Hetook me for Nell. Another thing, I remember--he made some sign--somemotion while I was calling him names, and I believe that was to keepthose other men back.... I believe Riggs had a plan with those other mento waylay Nell and make off with her. I absolutely know it."

  "Bo, you're so--so--you jump at wild ideas so," protested Helen, tryingto believe in her own assurance. But inwardly she was trembling.

  "Miss Helen, that ain't a wild idee," said Roy, seriously. "I reckonyour sister is pretty close on the trail. Las Vegas, don't you savvy itthet way?"

  Carmichael's answer was to stalk out of the room.

  "Call him back!" cried Helen, apprehensively.

  "Hold on, boy!" called Roy, sharply.

  Helen reached the door simultaneously with Roy. The cowboy picked up hissombrero, jammed it on his head, gave his belt a vicious hitch that madethe gun-sheath jump, and then in one giant step he was astride Ranger.

  "Carmichael! Stay!" cried Helen.

  The cowboy spurred the black, and the stones rang under iron-shod hoofs.

  "Bo! Call him back! Please call him back!" importuned Helen, indistress.

  "I won't," declared Bo Rayner. Her face shone whiter now and her eyeswere like fiery flint. That was her answer to a loving, gentle-heartedsister; that was her answer to the call of the West.

  "No use," said Roy, quietly. "An' I reckon I'd better trail him up."

  He, too, strode out and, mounting his horse, galloped swiftly away.

  It turned out that Bo, was more bruised and scraped and shaken than shehad imagined. One knee was rather badly cut, which injury alone wouldhave kept her from riding again very soon. Helen, who was somewhatskilled at bandaging wounds, worried a great deal over these sundryblotches on Bo's fair skin, and it took considerable time to wash anddress them. Long after this was done, and during the early supper, andafterward, Bo's excitement remained unabated. The whiteness stayed onher face and the blaze in her eyes. Helen ordered and begged her to goto bed, for the fact was Bo could not stand up and her hands shook.

  "Go to bed? Not much," she said. "I want to know what he does to Riggs."

  It was that possibility which had Helen in dreadful suspense. IfCarmichael killed Riggs, it seemed to Helen that the bottom woulddrop out of this structure of
Western life she had begun to build soearnestly and fearfully. She did not believe that he would do so. Butthe uncertainty was torturing.

  "Dear Bo," appealed Helen, "you don't want--Oh! you do want Carmichaelto--to kill Riggs?"

  "No, I don't, but I wouldn't care if he did," replied Bo, bluntly.

  "Do you think--he will?"

  "Nell, if that cowboy really loves me he read my mind right here beforehe left," declared Bo. "And he knew what I thought he'd do."

  "And what's--that?" faltered Helen.

  "I want him to round Riggs up down in the village--somewhere in a crowd.I want Riggs shown up as the coward, braggart, four-flush that he is.And insulted, slapped, kicked--driven out of Pine!"

  Her passionate speech still rang throughout the room when there camefootsteps on the porch. Helen hurried to raise the bar from the door andopen it just as a tap sounded on the door-post. Roy's face stood whiteout of the darkness. His eyes were bright. And his smile made Helen'sfearful query needless.

  "How are you-all this evenin'?" he drawled, as he came in.

  A fire blazed on the hearth and a lamp burned on the table. By theirlight Bo looked white and eager-eyed as she reclined in the bigarm-chair.

  "What 'd he do?" she asked, with all her amazing force.

  "Wal, now, ain't you goin' to tell me how you are?"

  "Roy, I'm all bunged up. I ought to be in bed, but I just couldn't sleeptill I hear what Las Vegas did. I'd forgive anything except him gettingdrunk."

  "Wal, I shore can ease your mind on thet," replied Roy. "He never dranka drop."

  Roy was distractingly slow about beginning the tale any child could haveguessed he was eager to tell. For once the hard, intent quietness, thesoul of labor, pain, and endurance so plain in his face was softened bypleasurable emotion. He poked at the burning logs with the toe of hisboot. Helen observed that he had changed his boots and now wore nospurs. Then he had gone to his quarters after whatever had happened downin Pine.

  "Where IS he?" asked Bo.

  "Who? Riggs? Wal, I don't know. But I reckon he's somewhere out in thewoods nursin' himself."

  "Not Riggs. First tell me where HE is."

  "Shore, then, you must mean Las Vegas. I just left him down at thecabin. He was gettin' ready for bed, early as it is. All tired out hewas an' thet white you wouldn't have knowed him. But he looked happy atthet, an' the last words he said, more to himself than to me, I reckon,was, 'I'm some locoed gent, but if she doesn't call me Tom now she's nogood!'"

  Bo actually clapped her hands, notwithstanding that one of them wasbandaged.

  "Call him Tom? I should smile I will," she declared, in delight. "Hurrynow--what 'd--"

  "It's shore powerful strange how he hates thet handle Las Vegas," wenton Roy, imperturbably.

  "Roy, tell me what he did--what TOM did--or I'll scream," cried Bo.

  "Miss Helen, did you ever see the likes of thet girl?" asked Roy,appealing to Helen.

  "No, Roy, I never did," agreed Helen. "But please--please tell us whathas happened."

  Roy grinned and rubbed his hands together in a dark delight, almostfiendish in its sudden revelation of a gulf of strange emotion deepwithin him. Whatever had happened to Riggs had not been too much forRoy Beeman. Helen remembered hearing her uncle say that a real Westernerhated nothing so hard as the swaggering desperado, the make-believegunman who pretended to sail under the true, wild, and reckoning colorsof the West.

  Roy leaned his lithe, tall form against the stone mantelpiece and facedthe girls.

  "When I rode out after Las Vegas I seen him 'way down the road," beganRoy, rapidly. "An' I seen another man ridin' down into Pine from theother side. Thet was Riggs, only I didn't know it then. Las Vegas rodeup to the store, where some fellars was hangin' round, an' he spoke tothem. When I come up they was all headin' for Turner's saloon. I seen adozen hosses hitched to the rails. Las Vegas rode on. But I got off atTurner's an' went in with the bunch. Whatever it was Las Vegas saidto them fellars, shore they didn't give him away. Pretty soon more menstrolled into Turner's an' there got to be 'most twenty altogether, Ireckon. Jeff Mulvey was there with his pards. They had been drinkin'sorta free. An' I didn't like the way Mulvey watched me. So I wentout an' into the store, but kept a-lookin' for Las Vegas. He wasn't insight. But I seen Riggs ridin' up. Now, Turner's is where Riggs hangsout an' does his braggin'. He looked powerful deep an' thoughtful,dismounted slow without seein' the unusual number of hosses there, an'then he slouches into Turner's. No more 'n a minute after Las Vegas rodedown there like a streak. An' just as quick he was off an' through thetdoor."

  Roy paused as if to gain force or to choose his words. His tale nowappeared all directed to Bo, who gazed at him, spellbound, a fascinatedlistener.

  "Before I got to Turner's door--an' thet was only a little ways--I heardLas Vegas yell. Did you ever hear him? Wal, he's got the wildest yellof any cow-puncher I ever beard. Quicklike I opened the door an' slippedin. There was Riggs an' Las Vegas alone in the center of the big saloon,with the crowd edgin' to the walls an' slidin' back of the bar. Riggswas whiter 'n a dead man. I didn't hear an' I don't know what Las Vegasyelled at him. But Riggs knew an' so did the gang. All of a sudden everyman there shore seen in Las Vegas what Riggs had always bragged HE was.Thet time comes to every man like Riggs.

  "'What 'd you call me?' he asked, his jaw shakin'.

  "'I 'ain't called you yet,' answered Las Vegas. 'I just whooped.'

  "'What d'ye want?'

  "'You scared my girl.'

  "'The hell ye say! Who's she?' blustered Riggs, an' he began to takequick looks 'round. But he never moved a hand. There was somethin' tightabout the way he stood. Las Vegas had both arms half out, stretched asif he meant to leap. But he wasn't. I never seen Las Vegas do thet, butwhen I seen him then I understood it.

  "'You know. An' you threatened her an' her sister. Go for your gun,'called Las Vegas, low an' sharp.

  "Thet put the crowd right an' nobody moved. Riggs turned green then. Ialmost felt sorry for him. He began to shake so he'd dropped a gun if hehad pulled one.

  "'Hyar, you're off--some mistake--I 'ain't seen no gurls--I--'

  "'Shut up an' draw!' yelled Las Vegas. His voice just pierced holes inthe roof, an' it might have been a bullet from the way Riggs collapsed.Every man seen in a second more thet Riggs wouldn't an' couldn't draw.He was afraid for his life. He was not what he had claimed to be. Idon't know if he had any friends there. But in the West good men an' badmen, all alike, have no use for Riggs's kind. An' thet stony quiet brokewith haw--haw. It shore was as pitiful to see Riggs as it was fine tosee Las Vegas.

  "When he dropped his arms then I knowed there would be no gun-play. An'then Las Vegas got red in the face. He slapped Riggs with one hand,then with the other. An' he began to cuss him. I shore never knowedthet nice-spoken Las Vegas Carmichael could use such language. It was astream of the baddest names known out here, an' lots I never heard of.Now an' then I caught somethin' like low-down an' sneak an' four-flushan' long-haired skunk, but for the most part they was just the cussedestkind of names. An' Las Vegas spouted them till he was black in the face,an' foamin' at the mouth, an' hoarser 'n a bawlin' cow.

  "When he got out of breath from cussin' he punched Riggs all about thesaloon, threw him outdoors, knocked him down an' kicked him till he gotkickin' him down the road with the whole haw-hawed gang behind. An' hedrove him out of town!"