by Zane Grey
CHAPTER XXIV
As Helen Rayner watched Dale ride away on a quest perilous to him, andwhich meant almost life or death for her, it was surpassing strange thatshe could think of nothing except the thrilling, tumultuous moment whenshe had put her arms round his neck.
It did not matter that Dale--splendid fellow that he was--had madethe ensuing moment free of shame by taking her action as he had takenit--the fact that she had actually done it was enough. How utterlyimpossible for her to anticipate her impulses or to understand them,once they were acted upon! Confounding realization then was that whenDale returned with her sister, Helen knew she would do the same thingover again!
"If I do--I won't be two-faced about it," she soliloquized, and a hotblush flamed her cheeks.
She watched Dale until he rode out of sight.
When he had gone, worry and dread replaced this other confusing emotion.She turned to the business of meeting events. Before supper she packedher valuables and books, papers, and clothes, together with Bo's, andhad them in readiness so if she was forced to vacate the premises shewould have her personal possessions.
The Mormon boys and several other of her trusted men slept in theirtarpaulin beds on the porch of the ranch-house that night, so that Helenat least would not be surprised. But the day came, with its manifoldduties undisturbed by any event. And it passed slowly with the leadenfeet of listening, watching vigilance.
Carmichael did not come back, nor was there news of him to be had. Thelast known of him had been late the afternoon of the preceding day, whena sheep-herder had seen him far out on the north range, headed for thehills. The Beemans reported that Roy's condition had improved, and alsothat there was a subdued excitement of suspense down in the village.
This second lonely night was almost unendurable for Helen. When sheslept it was to dream horrible dreams; when she lay awake it was to haveher heart leap to her throat at a rustle of leaves near the window, andto be in torture of imagination as to poor Bo's plight. A thousand timesHelen said to herself that Beasley could have had the ranch and welcome,if only Bo had been spared. Helen absolutely connected her enemy withher sister's disappearance. Riggs might have been a means to it.
Daylight was not attended by so many fears; there were things to dothat demanded attention. And thus it was that the next morning, shortlybefore noon, she was recalled to her perplexities by a shouting out atthe corrals and a galloping of horses somewhere near. From the windowshe saw a big smoke.
"Fire! That must be one of the barns--the old one, farthest out,"she said, gazing out of the window. "Some careless Mexican with hiseverlasting cigarette!"
Helen resisted an impulse to go out and see what had happened. She haddecided to stay in the house. But when footsteps sounded on the porchand a rap on the door, she unhesitatingly opened it. Four Mexicans stoodclose. One of them, quick as thought, flashed a hand in to grasp her,and in a single motion pulled her across the threshold.
"No hurt, Senora," he said, and pointed--making motions she must go.
Helen did not need to be told what this visit meant. Many as herconjectures had been, however, she had not thought of Beasley subjectingher to this outrage. And her blood boiled.
"How dare you!" she said, trembling in her effort to control her temper.But class, authority, voice availed nothing with these swarthy Mexicans.They grinned. Another laid hold of Helen with dirty, brown hand. Sheshrank from the contact.
"Let go!" she burst out, furiously. And instinctively she began tostruggle to free herself. Then they all took hold of her. Helen'sdignity might never have been! A burning, choking rush of blood washer first acquaintance with the terrible passion of anger that was herinheritance from the Auchinclosses. She who had resolved never to layherself open to indignity now fought like a tigress. The Mexicans,jabbering in their excitement, had all they could do, until theylifted her bodily from the porch. They handled her as if she had been ahalf-empty sack of corn. One holding each hand and foot they packed her,with dress disarranged and half torn off, down the path to the lane anddown the lane to the road. There they stood upright and pushed her offher property.
Through half-blind eyes Helen saw them guarding the gateway, ready toprevent her entrance. She staggered down the road to the village.It seemed she made her way through a red dimness--that there was acongestion in her brain--that the distance to Mrs. Cass's cottage wasinsurmountable. But she got there, to stagger up the path, to hear theold woman's cry. Dizzy, faint, sick, with a blackness enveloping all shelooked at, Helen felt herself led into the sitting-room and placed inthe big chair.
Presently sight and clearness of mind returned to her. She saw Roy,white as a sheet, questioning her with terrible eyes. The old womanhung murmuring over her, trying to comfort her as well as fasten thedisordered dress.
"Four greasers--packed me down--the hill--threw me off my ranch--intothe road!" panted Helen.
She seemed to tell this also to her own consciousness and to realize themighty wave of danger that shook her whole body.
"If I'd known--I would have killed them!"
She exclaimed that, full-voiced and hard, with dry, hot eyes on herfriends. Roy reached out to take her hand, speaking huskily. Helendid not distinguish what he said. The frightened old woman knelt, withunsteady fingers fumbling over the rents in Helen's dress. The momentcame when Helen's quivering began to subside, when her blood quietedto let her reason sway, when she began to do battle with her rage, andslowly to take fearful stock of this consuming peril that had been asleeping tigress in her veins.
"Oh, Miss Helen, you looked so turrible, I made sure you was hurted,"the old woman was saying.
Helen gazed strangely at her bruised wrists, at the one stocking thathung down over her shoe-top, at the rent which had bared her shoulder tothe profane gaze of those grinning, beady-eyed Mexicans.
"My body's--not hurt," she whispered.
Roy had lost some of his whiteness, and where his eyes had been fiercethey were now kind.
"Wal, Miss Nell, it's lucky no harm's done.... Now if you'll only seethis whole deal clear!... Not let it spoil your sweet way of lookin' an'hopin'! If you can only see what's raw in this West--an' love it jestthe same!"
Helen only half divined his meaning, but that was enough for a futurereflection. The West was beautiful, but hard. In the faces of thesefriends she began to see the meaning of the keen, sloping lines, andshadows of pain, of a lean, naked truth, cut as from marble.
"For the land's sakes, tell us all about it," importuned Mrs. Cass.
Whereupon Helen shut her eyes and told the brief narrative of herexpulsion from her home.
"Shore we-all expected thet," said Roy. "An' it's jest as well you'rehere with a whole skin. Beasley's in possession now an' I reckon we'dall sooner hev you away from thet ranch."
"But, Roy, I won't let Beasley stay there," cried Helen.
"Miss Nell, shore by the time this here Pine has growed big enough ferlaw you'll hev gray in thet pretty hair. You can't put Beasley off withyour honest an' rightful claim. Al Auchincloss was a hard driver. Hemade enemies an' he made some he didn't kill. The evil men do livesafter them. An' you've got to suffer fer Al's sins, though Al was asgood as any man who ever prospered in these parts."
"Oh, what can I do? I won't give up. I've been robbed. Can't the peoplehelp me? Must I meekly sit with my hands crossed while that half-breedthief--Oh, it's unbelievable!"
"I reckon you'll jest hev to be patient fer a few days," said Roy,calmly. "It'll all come right in the end."
"Roy! You've had this deal, as you call it, all worked out in mind for along time!" exclaimed Helen.
"Shore, an' I 'ain't missed a reckonin' yet."
"Then what will happen--in a few days?"
"Nell Rayner, are you goin' to hev some spunk an' not lose your nerveagain or go wild out of your head?"
"I'll try to be brave, but--but I must be prepared," she replied,tremulously.
"Wal, there's Dale an' Las Vegas an' me fer Beasley to re
ckon with.An', Miss Nell, his chances fer long life are as pore as his chances ferheaven!"
"But, Roy, I don't believe in deliberate taking of life," repliedHelen, shuddering. "That's against my religion. I won't allow it....And--then--think, Dale, all of you--in danger!"
"Girl, how 're you ever goin' to help yourself? Shore you might holdDale back, if you love him, an' swear you won't give yourself to him....An' I reckon I'd respect your religion, if you was goin' to sufferthrough me.... But not Dale nor you--nor Bo--nor love or heaven or hellcan ever stop thet cowboy Las Vegas!"
"Oh, if Dale brings Bo back to me--what will I care for my ranch?"murmured Helen.
"Reckon you'll only begin to care when thet happens. Your big hunter hasgot to be put to work," replied Roy, with his keen smile.
Before noon that day the baggage Helen had packed at home was left onthe porch of Widow Cass's cottage, and Helen's anxious need of the hourwas satisfied. She was made comfortable in the old woman's one spareroom, and she set herself the task of fortitude and endurance.
To her surprise, many of Mrs. Cass's neighbors came unobtrusively tothe back door of the little cottage and made sympathetic inquiries. Theyappeared a subdued and apprehensive group, and whispered to one anotheras they left. Helen gathered from their visits a conviction that thewives of the men dominated by Beasley believed no good could come ofthis high-handed taking over of the ranch. Indeed, Helen found at theend of the day that a strength had been borne of her misfortune.
The next day Roy informed her that his brother John had come down thepreceding night with the news of Beasley's descent upon the ranch. Not ashot had been fired, and the only damage done was that of the burning ofa hay-filled barn. This had been set on fire to attract Helen's men toone spot, where Beasley had ridden down upon them with three times theirnumber. He had boldly ordered them off the land, unless they wanted toacknowledge him boss and remain there in his service. The three Beemanshad stayed, having planned that just in this event they might bevaluable to Helen's interests. Beasley had ridden down into Pine thesame as upon any other day. Roy reported also news which had come inthat morning, how Beasley's crowd had celebrated late the night before.
The second and third and fourth days endlessly wore away, and Helenbelieved they had made her old. At night she lay awake most of the time,thinking and praying, but during the afternoon she got some sleep. Shecould think of nothing and talk of nothing except her sister, and Dale'schances of saving her.
"Well, shore you pay Dale a pore compliment," finally protested thepatient Roy. "I tell you--Milt Dale can do anythin' he wants to do inthe woods. You can believe thet. ... But I reckon he'll run chancesafter he comes back."
This significant speech thrilled Helen with its assurance of hope, andmade her blood curdle at the implied peril awaiting the hunter.
On the afternoon of the fifth day Helen was abruptly awakened from hernap. The sun had almost set. She heard voices--the shrill, cacklingnotes of old Mrs. Cass, high in excitement, a deep voice that made Helentingle all over, a girl's laugh, broken but happy. There were footstepsand stamping of hoofs. Dale had brought Bo back! Helen knew it. She grewvery weak, and had to force herself to stand erect. Her heart began topound in her very ears. A sweet and perfect joy suddenly flooded hersoul. She thanked God her prayers had been answered. Then suddenly alivewith sheer mad physical gladness, she rushed out.
She was just in time to see Roy Beeman stalk out as if he had never beenshot, and with a yell greet a big, gray-clad, gray-faced man--Dale.
"Howdy, Roy! Glad to see you up," said Dale. How the quiet voicesteadied Helen! She beheld Bo. Bo, looking the same, except a littlepale and disheveled! Then Bo saw her and leaped at her, into her arms.
"Nell! I'm here! Safe--all right! Never was so happy in my life....Oh-h! talk about your adventures! Nell, you dear old mother to me--I'vehad e-enough forever!"
Bo was wild with joy, and by turns she laughed and cried. But Helencould not voice her feelings. Her eyes were so dim that she couldscarcely see Dale when he loomed over her as she held Bo. But he foundthe hand she put shakily out.
"Nell!... Reckon it's been harder--on you." His voice was earnest andhalting. She felt his searching gaze upon her face. "Mrs. Cass said youwere here. An' I know why."
Roy led them all indoors.
"Milt, one of the neighbor boys will take care of thet hoss," he said,as Dale turned toward the dusty and weary Ranger. "Where'd you leave thecougar?"
"I sent him home," replied Date.
"Laws now, Milt, if this ain't grand!" cackled Mrs. Cass. "We've worriedsome here. An' Miss Helen near starved a-hopin' fer you."
"Mother, I reckon the girl an' I are nearer starved than anybody youknow," replied Dale, with a grim laugh.
"Fer the land's sake! I'll be fixin' supper this minit."
"Nell, why are you here?" asked Bo, suspiciously.
For answer Helen led her sister into the spare room and closed the door.Bo saw the baggage. Her expression changed. The old blaze leaped to thetelltale eyes.
"He's done it!" she cried, hotly.
"Dearest--thank God. I've got you--back again!" murmured Helen, findingher voice. "Nothing else matters!... I've prayed only for that!"
"Good old Nell!" whispered Bo, and she kissed and embraced Helen. "Youreally mean that, I know. But nix for yours truly! I'm back alive andkicking, you bet.... Where's my--where's Tom?"
"Bo, not a word has been heard of him for five days. He's searching foryou, of course."
"And you've been--been put off the ranch?"
"Well, rather," replied Helen, and in a few trembling words she told thestory of her eviction.
Bo uttered a wild word that had more force than elegance, but it becameher passionate resentment of this outrage done her sister.
"Oh!... Does Tom Carmichael know this?" she added, breathlessly.
"How could he?"
"When he finds out, then--Oh, won't there be hell? I'm glad I got herefirst.... Nell, my boots haven't been off the whole blessed time. Helpme. And oh, for some soap and hot water and some clean clothes! Nell,old girl, I wasn't raised right for these Western deals. Too luxurious!"
And then Helen had her ears filled with a rapid-fire account of runninghorses and Riggs and outlaws and Beasley called boldly to his teeth, anda long ride and an outlaw who was a hero--a fight with Riggs--blood anddeath--another long ride--a wild camp in black woods--night--lonely,ghostly sounds--and day again--plot--a great actress lost to theworld--Ophelia--Snakes and Ansons--hoodooed outlaws--mournful moansand terrible cries--cougar--stampede--fight and shots, more blood anddeath--Wilson hero--another Tom Carmichael--fallen in love with outlawgun-fighter if--black night and Dale and horse and rides and starvedand, "Oh, Nell, he WAS from Texas!"
Helen gathered that wonderful and dreadful events had hung overthe bright head of this beloved little sister, but the bewildermentoccasioned by Bo's fluent and remarkable utterance left only that lastsentence clear.
Presently Helen got a word in to inform Bo that Mrs. Cass had knockedtwice for supper, and that welcome news checked Bo's flow of speech whennothing else seemed adequate.
It was obvious to Helen that Roy and Dale had exchanged stories. Roycelebrated this reunion by sitting at table the first time since hehad been shot; and despite Helen's misfortune and the suspended waitingbalance in the air the occasion was joyous. Old Mrs. Cass was in theheight of her glory. She sensed a romance here, and, true to her sex,she radiated to it.
Daylight was still lingering when Roy got up and went out on the porch.His keen ears had heard something. Helen fancied she herself had heardrapid hoof-beats.
"Dale, come out!" called Roy, sharply.
The hunter moved with his swift, noiseless agility. Helen and Bofollowed, halting in the door.
"Thet's Las Vegas," whispered Dale.
To Helen it seemed that the cowboy's name changed the very atmosphere.
Voices were heard at the gate; one that, harsh and quick, sounded likeCa
rmichael's. And a spirited horse was pounding and scatteringgravel. Then a lithe figure appeared, striding up the path. It wasCarmichael--yet not the Carmichael Helen knew. She heard Bo's strangelittle cry, a corroboration of her own impression.
Roy might never have been shot, judging from the way he stepped out,and Dale was almost as quick. Carmichael reached them--grasped them withswift, hard hands.
"Boys--I jest rode in. An' they said you'd found her!"
"Shore, Las Vegas. Dale fetched her home safe an' sound.... There sheis."
The cowboy thrust aside the two men, and with a long stride he faced theporch, his piercing eyes on the door. All that Helen could think of hislook was that it seemed terrible. Bo stepped outside in front of Helen.Probably she would have run straight into Carmichael's arms if somestrange instinct had not withheld her. Helen judged it to be fear; shefound her heart lifting painfully.
"Bo!" he yelled, like a savage, yet he did not in the least resembleone.
"Oh--Tom!" cried Bo, falteringly. She half held out her arms.
"You, girl?" That seemed to be his piercing query, like the quiveringblade in his eyes. Two more long strides carried him close up to her,and his look chased the red out of Bo's cheek. Then it was beautiful tosee his face marvelously change until it was that of the well rememberedLas Vegas magnified in all his old spirit.
"Aw!" The exclamation was a tremendous sigh. "I shore am glad!"
That beautiful flash left his face as he wheeled to the men. He wrungDale's hand long and hard, and his gaze confused the older man.
"RIGGS!" he said, and in the jerk of his frame as he whipped out theword disappeared the strange, fleeting signs of his kindlier emotion.
"Wilson killed him," replied Dale.
"Jim Wilson--that old Texas Ranger!... Reckon he lent you a hand?"
"My friend, he saved Bo," replied Dale, with emotion. "My old cougar an'me--we just hung 'round."
"You made Wilson help you?" cut in the hard voice.
"Yes. But he killed Riggs before I come up an' I reckon he'd done wellby Bo if I'd never got there."
"How about the gang?"
"All snuffed out, I reckon, except Wilson."
"Somebody told me Beasley hed ran Miss Helen off the ranch. Thet so?"
"Yes. Four of his greasers packed her down the hill--most tore herclothes off, so Roy tells me."
"Four greasers!... Shore it was Beasley's deal clean through?"
"Yes. Riggs was led. He had an itch for a bad name, you know. ButBeasley made the plan. It was Nell they wanted instead of Bo."
Abruptly Carmichael stalked off down the darkening path, his silverheel-plates ringing, his spurs jingling.
"Hold on, Carmichael," called Dale, taking a step.
"Oh, Tom!" cried Bo.
"Shore folks callin' won't be no use, if anythin would be," said Roy."Las Vegas has hed a look at red liquor."
"He's been drinking! Oh, that accounts!... he never--never even touchedme!"
For once Helen was not ready to comfort Bo. A mighty tug at her hearthad sent her with flying, uneven steps toward Dale. He took anotherstride down the path, and another.
"Dale--oh--please stop!" she called, very low.
He halted as if he had run sharply into a bar across the path. When heturned Helen had come close. Twilight was deep there in the shade of thepeach-trees, but she could see his face, the hungry, flaring eyes.
"I--I haven't thanked you--yet--for bringing Bo home," she whispered.
"Nell, never mind that," he said, in surprise. "If you must--why, wait.I've got to catch up with that cowboy."
"No. Let me thank you now," she whispered, and, stepping closer, she puther arms up, meaning to put them round his neck. That action must be herself-punishment for the other time she had done it. Yet it might alsoserve to thank him. But, strangely, her hands got no farther than hisbreast, and fluttered there to catch hold of the fringe of his buckskinjacket. She felt a heave of his deep chest.
"I--I do thank you--with all my heart," she said, softly. "I owe younow--for myself and her--more than I can ever repay."
"Nell, I'm your friend," he replied, hurriedly. "Don't talk of repayin'me. Let me go now--after Las Vegas."
"What for?" she queried, suddenly.
"I mean to line up beside him--at the bar--or wherever he goes,"returned Dale.
"Don't tell me that. _I_ know. You're going straight to meet Beasley."
"Nell, if you hold me up any longer I reckon I'll have to run--or neverget to Beasley before that cowboy."
Helen locked her fingers in the fringe of his jacket--leaned closer tohim, all her being responsive to a bursting gust of blood over her.
"I'll not let you go," she said.
He laughed, and put his great hands over hers. "What 're you sayin',girl? You can't stop me."
"Yes, I can. Dale, I don't want you to risk your life."
He stared at her, and made as if to tear her hands from their hold.
"Listen--please--oh--please!" she implored. "If you go deliberatelyto kill Beasley--and do it--that will be murder.... It's against myreligion.... I would be unhappy all my life."
"But, child, you'll be ruined all your life if Beasley is not dealtwith--as men of his breed are always dealt with in the West," heremonstrated, and in one quick move he had freed himself from herclutching fingers.
Helen, with a move as swift, put her arms round his neck and clasped herhands tight.
"Milt, I'm finding myself," she said. "The other day, when Idid--this--you made an excuse for me.... I'm not two-faced now."
She meant to keep him from killing Beasley if she sacrificed every lastshred of her pride. And she stamped the look of his face on her heartof hearts to treasure always. The thrill, the beat of her pulses, almostobstructed her thought of purpose.
"Nell, just now--when you're overcome--rash with feelin's--don't say tome--a word--a--"
He broke down huskily.
"My first friend--my--Oh Dale, I KNOW you love me! she whispered. Andshe hid her face on his breast, there to feel a tremendous tumult.
"Oh, don't you?" she cried, in low, smothered voice, as his silencedrove her farther on this mad, yet glorious purpose.
"If you need to be told--yes--I reckon I do love you, Nell Rayner," hereplied.
It seemed to Helen that he spoke from far off. She lifted her face, herheart on her lips.
"If you kill Beasley I'll never marry you," she said.
"Who's expectin' you to?" he asked, with low, hoarse laugh. "Do youthink you have to marry me to square accounts? This's the only time youever hurt me, Nell Rayner.... I'm 'shamed you could think I'd expectyou--out of gratitude--"
"Oh--you--you are as dense as the forest where you live," she cried.And then she shut her eyes again, the better to remember thattransfiguration of his face, the better to betray herself.
"Man--I love you!" Full and deep, yet tremulous, the words burst fromher heart that had been burdened with them for many a day.
Then it seemed, in the throbbing riot of her senses, that she waslifted and swung into his arms, and handled with a great and terribletenderness, and hugged and kissed with the hunger and awkwardness of abear, and held with her feet off the ground, and rendered blind, dizzy,rapturous, and frightened, and utterly torn asunder from her old calm,thinking self.
He put her down--released her.
"Nothin' could have made me so happy as what you said." He finished witha strong sigh of unutterable, wondering joy.
"Then you will not go to--to meet--"
Helen's happy query froze on her lips.
"I've got to go!" he rejoined, with his old, quiet voice. "Hurry in toBo.... An' don't worry. Try to think of things as I taught you up in thewoods."
Helen heard his soft, padded footfalls swiftly pass away. She was leftthere, alone in the darkening twilight, suddenly cold and stricken, asif turned to stone.
Thus she stood an age-long moment until the upflashing truth galvanizedher into action. Th
en she flew in pursuit of Dale. The truth was that,in spite of Dale's' early training in the East and the long years ofsolitude which had made him wonderful in thought and feeling, he hadalso become a part of this raw, bold, and violent West.
It was quite dark now and she had run quite some distance before she sawDale's tall, dark form against the yellow light of Turner's saloon.
Somehow, in that poignant moment, when her flying feet kept pace withher heart, Helen felt in herself a force opposing itself against thisraw, primitive justice of the West. She was one of the first influencesemanating from civilized life, from law and order. In that flash oftruth she saw the West as it would be some future time, when throughwomen and children these wild frontier days would be gone forever. Also,just as clearly she saw the present need of men like Roy Beeman and Daleand the fire-blooded Carmichael. Beasley and his kind must be killed.But Helen did not want her lover, her future husband, and the probablefather of her children to commit what she held to be murder.
At the door of the saloon she caught up with Dale.
"Milt--oh--wait!'--wait!" she panted.
She heard him curse under his breath as he turned. They were alone inthe yellow flare of light. Horses were champing bits and drooping beforethe rails.
"You go back!" ordered Dale, sternly. His face was pale, his eyes weregleaming.
"No! Not till--you take me--or carry me!" she replied, resolutely, withall a woman's positive and inevitable assurance.
Then he laid hold of her with ungentle hands. His violence, especiallythe look on his face, terrified Helen, rendered her weak. But nothingcould have shaken her resolve. She felt victory. Her sex, her love, andher presence would be too much for Dale.
As he swung Helen around, the low hum of voices inside the saloonsuddenly rose to sharp, hoarse roars, accompanied by a scuffling of feetand crashing of violently sliding chairs or tables. Dale let go of Helenand leaped toward the door. But a silence inside, quicker and strangerthan the roar, halted him. Helen's heart contracted, then seemed tocease beating. There was absolutely not a perceptible sound. Even thehorses appeared, like Dale, to have turned to statues.
Two thundering shots annihilated this silence. Then quickly came alighter shot--the smash of glass. Dale ran into the saloon. The horsesbegan to snort, to rear, to pound. A low, muffled murmur terrified Heleneven as it drew her. Dashing at the door, she swung it in and entered.
The place was dim, blue-hazed, smelling of smoke. Dale stood just insidethe door. On the floor lay two men. Chairs and tables were overturned.A motley, dark, shirt-sleeved, booted, and belted crowd of men appearedhunched against the opposite wall, with pale, set faces, turned to thebar. Turner, the proprietor, stood at one end, his face livid, his handsaloft and shaking. Carmichael leaned against the middle of the bar. Heheld a gun low down. It was smoking.
With a gasp Helen flashed her eyes back to Dale. He had seen her--wasreaching an arm toward her. Then she saw the man lying almost at herfeet. Jeff Mulvey--her uncle's old foreman! His face was awful tobehold. A smoking gun lay near his inert hand. The other man had fallenon his face. His garb proclaimed him a Mexican. He was not yet dead.Then Helen, as she felt Dale's arm encircle her, looked farther, becauseshe could not prevent it--looked on at that strange figure against thebar--this boy who had been such a friend in her hour of need--this naiveand frank sweetheart of her sister's.
She saw a man now--wild, white, intense as fire, with some terrible coolkind of deadliness in his mien. His left elbow rested upon the bar, andhis hand held a glass of red liquor. The big gun, low down in his otherhand, seemed as steady as if it were a fixture.
"Heah's to thet--half-breed Beasley an' his outfit!"
Carmichael drank, while his flaming eyes held the crowd; then withsavage action of terrible passion he flung the glass at the quiveringform of the still living Mexican on the floor.
Helen felt herself slipping. All seemed to darken around her. She couldnot see Dale, though she knew he held her. Then she fainted.
