Ogden George W - The Rustler of Wind River

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rustl

of Wind River, by G. W. Ogden

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Title: The Rustler of Wind River

Author: G. W. Ogden

Illustrator: Frank E. Schoonover

Release Date: November 16, 2009 [EBook#30485]

Language: English


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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOO

THE RUSTLER OF WIND RIVER ***

Produced by Roger Frank and the Online

Distributed

Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


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Ride LowTheyre Coming!


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THE RUSTLER

OF WIND RIVERBy G. W. OGDEN

WITH FRONTISPIECEBy FRANK E. SCHOONOVER


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A. L. BURT COMPANYPublishers New YorkPublished by Arrangement with A. C. McClurg &

Company


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CopyrightA. C. McClurg & Co.

1917

Published March, 1917


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CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAG

IStrangeBargainings

II Beef Day 1

IIITheRanchhouse

by the River2

IV The Man inthe Plaid 4

VIf He was aGentleman

5

VI A BoldCivilian

6

VII Throwing the

Scare

8


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VIIIAfoot andAlone

8

IXBusiness, notCompany 10

XHells a-goin to Pop

11

XI The SeorBoss ComesRiding

13

XII

The

Rustlers! 14

XIIIThe Trail atDawn

16

XIV WhenFriends Part 18

XV One Road 19

Danger and


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XVI Dignity 21

XVIIBoots andSaddles

22

XVIII The Trail ofthe Coffee

24

XIXI Beat Himto It

25

XXLove andDeath

26

XXIThe Man in

the Door28

XXII Paid 29

XXIII Tears in theNight

30

XXIVBanjo FacesInto the West

31

XXVHasta

32


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Luego


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THE RUSTLER OFWIND RIVER


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CHAPTER I

STRANGE BARGAININGSWhen a man came down out of thmountains looking dusty and gaunt as th

stranger did, there was no marvel in thmatter of his eating five cans of covoysters. The one unaccountable thiabout it was that Saul Chadron, preside

of the Drovers Association, should sthere at the table and urge the lank, lestarveling to go his limit.

Usually Saul Chadron was a man whpicked his companions, and was particular hand at the choosing. He couafford to do that, being of the earth

exalted in the Northwest, where peop


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came to him and put down their tribute his feet.

This stranger, whom Chadron treate

like a long-wandering friend, had comdown the mountain trail that morning, anhad been hanging about the hotel all daBuck Snellin, the proprietordu

licensed for a matter of thirty years paby the United States government conduct his hostelry in the corner of thIndian reservation, up against the door the army postdid not know him. Ththrew him among strangers in that lanindeed, for Buck knew everybody within

hundred miles on every side.The stranger was a tall, smoky mahollow-faced, grim; adorned with a larg

brown mustache which drooped over h

thin mouth; a bony man with sha


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shoulders, and a stoop which began in thregion of the stomach, as if induced bdrawing in upon himself in times

poignant hunger, which he must have fefrequently in his day to wear him down that state of bones; with the under lid his left eye caught at a point and draw

down until it showed red, as if held byfishhook to drain it of unimaginable tears

There was a furtive look in his restleswild-animal eyes, smoky like the rest him, and a surliness about his long, higridged nose which came down over hmustache like a beak. He wore a cloth c

with ear flaps, and they were dowalthough the heat of summer still made thSeptember air lively enough for one wi

blood beneath his skin. He regaled himse

with fierce defiance, like a captive eagl


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and had no word in return for the generoimportunities of the man who was host him in what evidently was a long-deferr

meal.Chadron paid the bill when the man

last finished packing his internal cavitieand they went together into the hotel offi

which adjoined the dining-room.The office of this log hotel was a larg

gaunt room, containing a few chairs alo

the walls, a small, round table under thwindow with the register upon it, a pen a potato, and a bottle of ink with trickland encrusted sides. The broad firepla

was bleak and black, blank-staring asblind eye, and the sun reached through twindow in a white streak across thmottled floor.

There was the smell of old pipes, o


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furs, old guns, in the place, and all of thewere present to account for themselvand dispel any shadow of myste

whateverthe guns on their pegs set auger-holes in the logs of the walls, thfurs of wild beasts dangling from liksupports in profusion everywhere, and th

pipes lying on the mantel with stemhospitably extended to all unprovidguests. Some of them had been smoked bthe guests who had come and gone forgeneration of men.

The stranger stood at the manteltree antried the pipes capacity with his thick

ended thumb, finding one at last to hrequirements. Tall as Saul Chadron stooon his own proper legs, the stranger at hshoulder was a head above him. Sev

feet he must have towered, his crow


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within a few inches of the smoked beamacross the ceiling, and marvelously thin the running up. It seemed that the win

must break him some blustering day at thplace in his long body where hunger, pain, or mischance had doubled him ovin the past, and left him creased. Th

strong light of the room found pepperinof gray in his thick and long black hair.

Chadron himself was a gray man, withmustache and beard like a cavalier. Hshrewd eyes were sharp and bright undheavy brows, his brown face wtoughened by days in the saddle throu

all seasons of weather and wind. Hshoulders were broad and heavy, and evnow, although not dressed for the saddlthere was an up-creeping in the legs of h

trousers, and a gathering at the knees


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them, for they were drawn down over htall boots.

That was Chadrons way of doing th

nice thing when he went abroad in hbuckboard. He had saddle manners anbuckboard manners, and even offimanners when he met the cattle barons

Cheyenne. No matter what manners hchanced to be wearing, one rememberSaul Chadron after meeting him, ancarried the recollection of him to thsundown of his day.

We can talk here, said Chadrogiving the other a cigar.

The tall man broke the cigar and grounpart of it in his palm, looking wifrowning thoughtfulness into the empfireplace as the tobacco crushed in h

hard hand. He filled the pipe that he h


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chosen, and sat with his long lestretched out toward the chimney-mouth.

Well, go on and talk, said he.

His voice came smothered and hoarsas if it lay beneath all the oysters which hhad rammed into his unseen hollow. It wa voice in strange harmony with the masuch a sound as one would have expectto come out of that surly, dark-lipped, thmouth. There was nothing committal abo

it, nothing exactly identifying; impersonal voice, rather, and cold; voice with no conscience behind scarcely a soul.

Youre a business man, MarkHuh! said Mark, grunting a litt

cloud of smoke from the bowl of his pipin his sarcastic vehemence.


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And so am I, continued Chadrounmoved. Words between us would bewaste of time.

Youre right; money talks, said MarIts a mans job, or I wouldnt hav

called you out of your hole to do it, saChadron, watching the man slyly for theffect.

Pay me in money, suggested Marunwarmed by the compliment. Is

nesters agin?Nesters, nodded the cattlemadrawing his great brows in a frowTheyre crowdin in so thick right aroun

me that I cant breathe comfortable amore; the smell of ems in the winTheyre runnin over three of the biggeranches up here besides the Alamito, an

the Drovers Association wants a little


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your old-time holy scare throwed into thcussed coyotes.

Mark nodded in the pause whi

seemed to have been made for him to noand Chadron went on.

We figger that if a dozen or two ems cleaned out, quick and mysteriouthe restll tuck tail and sneak. Ithappened that way in other places mothan once, as you and I know. Well, you

the man that dont have to take lessons.Money talks, repeated Mark, stlooking into the chimney.

Theres about twenty of them th

counts, the rests the kind you can drivover a cliff with a whip. These fellers hstrung their cussed bob-wire fenccrisscross and checkerboard all aroun

there up the river, and theyre gittin to b


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right troublesome. Of course theyre ona speck up there yet, but theyll multiplike fleas on a hot dog if we let em g

ahead. You know how it is.There was a conclusiveness

Chadrons tone as he said that. It spoke a large understanding between men of

kind.Sure, grunted the man Mark, noddi

his head at the chimney. You want a ma

to work from the willers, without no muor gun-flashin, or rough houses or loutalk.

Twenty of them, their names are her

and some scattered in between that havent put down, to be picked up as thfall in handy, see?

And youre aimin to keep clear, an

stand back in the shadder, like you alway


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have done, growled Mark. Well, I aingoin to ram my neck into no sheriffs loofor nobodys business but my own fro

now on. Im through with resks, just to bobligin.

Wholl put a hand on you in thcountry unless we give the word

Chadron asked, severely.How do I know whos runnin the la

in this dang country now? Maybe y

fellers is, maybe you aint.Theres no law in this part of thcountry bigger than the DroverAssociation, Chadron told him, frowni

in rebuke of Marks doubt of securitWell, maybe theres a little sheriff herand there, and a few judges that we didn

put in, but theyre down in the farmi

country, and they dont cut no figger at a


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If you was fool enough to let one of thefellers git a hold on you we wouldnleave you in jail over night. You kno

how it was up there in the north.But I dont know how it is dow

here. Mark scowled in surly unbelief, surly simulation.

Theres not a judge, federal or statthat could carry a bale of hay anywhere the cattle country, I tell you, Mark, that w

dont draw the chalk line for.Then why dont you do the joyourselves, stead of callin a peaceabman away from his ranchin?

Youre one kind of a gentleman, Marand Im another, and theres different jobfor different men. That aint my line.

Oh hell! said Mark, laying upon th


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words an eloquent stress.All youve got to do is keep clear

the reservation; dont turn a card here, n

matter how easy it looks. We cant jeyou out of the hands of the army if you gmixed up with it; thats one place whewe stop. The reservations a midd

ground where we meet the nestersrustlers, every muddy-bellied wolf of emand we can prove itand pass em bThey come and go here like white meand nothing said. Keep clear of threservation; thats all youve got to do

be as safe as if you was layin in bed o

your ranch up in Jacksons Hole.Chadron winked as he named threfuge of the hunted in the NorthweMark appeared to be consideri

something weightily.


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Oh, well, if theyre rustlersnoboaint got no use for a rustler, he said.

Theres men in that bunch

twentytapping the slip of paper wihis fingerthat started with two cowscouple of years ago thats got fifty ansixty head of two-year-olds now

Chadron feelingly declared.How muchre you willin to go?

Mark put the question with a suddenne

which seemed to betray that he had besaving it to shoot off that way, as disagreeable point over which hexpected a quarrel. He squinted h

draggled left eye at Chadron, as if he wtaking aim, while he waited for a reply.Well, you have done it for fifty

head, Chadron said.

Things is higher now, and Im olde


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and the resks bigger, Mark complaineHow fur apart do they lay?

You ought to get around in a week

two.But that aint figgerin the time a fell

has to lay out in the bresh waitin antakin rheumatiz in his jints. I couldntouch the job for the old figger; things higher.

Look here, MarkChadron open

the slip which he had wound round hfingerthis one is worth ten, yes, all, thothers. Make your own price on him. Buwant it done; no bungled job.

Mark took the paper and laid his pipaside while he studied it.

Macdonald?Alan Macdonald, nodded Chadro


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That fellers opened a ditch from thriver up there on my land and begun irrigate!

Irrigatin, huh? said Marabstractedly, moving his finger down thcolumn of names.

He makes a blind of buyin up cattand fattenin em on the hay and alfalfhes raisin up there on my good land, bhes the king-pin of the rustlers in th

corner of the state. Hell be in hetomorrow with cattle for the Indian ageits beef dayand you can size him uBut youve got to keep your belly to th

ground like a snake when you staanything on that feller, and youve got make sure youve got him dead to righHes quick with a gun, and hes sure.

Five hundred? suggested Mark, wi


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a crafty sidelong look.Youve named it.And something down for expenses;

fellers got to live, and livins high.Chadron drew out his wallet. Mon

passed into Marks hand, and he put away in his pocket along with the list names.

Ill see you in the old place Cheyenne for the settlement, if you mak

good, Chadron told him.Mark waved his hand in lofdepreciation of the hint that failure for hiwas a possible contingency. He said n

more. For a little while Chadron stoolooking down on him as he leaned with h

pipe over the dead ashes in the fireplachis hand in the breast of his coat, where h


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had stored his purse. Mark treated thmighty cattleman as if he had becomestranger to him, along with the rest of th

world in that place, and Chadron turnand went his way.


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CHAPTER II

BEEF DAYFort Shakie was on its downhill way those days, and almost at the bottom of th

decline. It was considered a post penance by enlisted men and officealike, nested up there in the high plateagainst the mountains in its place of wi

beauty and picturesque charm.But natural beauty and Indi

picturesqueness do not fill the place in tsoldierly breast of fair civilian lady facenor torrential streams of cold mountawater supply the music of thlocomotives toot. Fort Shakie was bein

crept upon by civilization, true, but it w


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coming all too slow for the boottroopers and belted officers who muwear away the months in its lone

silences.Within the memory of officers not y

gray the post had been a hundred and fifmiles from a railroad. Now it was b

twenty; but even that short leap drownthe voice of the locomotive, and the dot the rails end held few of the endearmenwhich make soldiering sweet.

Soon the post must go, indeed, for thneed of it had passed. The ShoshoneArapahoes, and Crows had forgotten the

old animosities, and were traveling wiBuffalo Bill, going to college, and raisialfalfa under the direction of a governmefarmer. The Indian police were in traini

to do the soldiers work there. Soon th


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post must stand abandoned, a lonemonument to the days of hard riding, lowatches, and bleak years. Not a soldier

the service but prayed for the hastening the day.

No, there was not much over Meander, at the railroads end, to cheer

soldiers heart. It was an inspiring ride, these autumn days, to come to Meande

past the little brimming lakes, whiseemed to lie without banks in the gremeadows where wild elk fed with the sIndian cattle; over the white hills whethe earth gave under the hoofs like new

fallen snow. But when one came to through the expanding, dusty miles, threward of his long ride was not in keepiwith his effort.

Certainly, privates and subalterns cou


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get drunk there, as speedily as in thcenters of refinement, but there were ngentlemanly diversions at which an offic

could dispel the gloom of his sour days garrison.

The rough-cheeked girls of that higwind country were well enough f

cowboys to swing in their wild danceust a rung above the squaws on th

reservation in the matter of loquacity anof gum. Hardly the sort for a man who hthe memory of white gloves and gleamishoulders, and the traditions of the servito maintain.

Of course there was the exception ola Chadron, but she was not Meander and the railroads end, and shcame only in flashes of summ

brightness, like a swift, gay bird. B


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when Nola was at the ranchhouse on thriver the gloom lifted over the post, anthe sour leaven in the hearts of unmarri

officers became as sweet as manna in thcheer of the unusual social outlet th

provided.Nola kept the big house in a blaze

oy while she nested there through thsummer days. The sixteen miles whistretched between it and the post ran olike a silver band before those who rodinto the smile of her welcome, and whshe flitted away to Cheyenne, champagnand silk hats in the autumn, a grayne

hovered again over the military post in thcorner of the reservation.Later than usual Nola had lingered

this fall, and the social outlet h

remained open, like a navigable riv


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over which the threat of ice hung but hnot yet fallen. There were not lackithose who held that the lodestone whi

kept her there at the ranchhouse, when thgaieties of the season beckonelsewhere, was in the breast of MajCuvier King. Fatal infatuation, said th

married ladies at the post, knowing, everybody knew in the service, that MajKing was betrothed to Frances Landcrathe colonels daughter.

No matter for any complications whimight come of it, Nola had remained oand the major had smiled on her, an

ridden with her, and cut high capers in thdance, all pending the return of Francand her mother from their summering Bar Harbor in compliance with the fami

traditions. Now Frances was back agai


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and fortune had thrown a sunburst beauty into the post by centering her an

ola here at once. Nola was the guest

the colonels daughter, and there weflutterings in uniformed breasts.

Beef day was an event at the agenwhich never grew old to the people at th

post. Without beef day they must havdwindled off to acidulous shadows, as thIndians who depended upon it for mosolid sustenance would have done in thevent of its discontinuation by a paterngovernment.

There were phases of Indian life an

character which one never saw save obeef day, which fell on Wednesday each week. Guests at the post watched th

bright picture with the keen interest of

pageant on the stage; tourists came over b


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stage from Meander in the summer montby the score to be present; the resideofficers, and their wives and families

such as had themfound in it an everecurring source of interest and relief frothe tedium of days all alike.

This beef day, the morning followin

the meeting between Saul Chadron and hmysterious guest, a chattering group stooon the veranda of Colonel Landcrafthouse in the bright friendly sun. They wewaiting for horses to make the shoourney to the agencyfor ones hones

was questioned, his sanity doubted, if h

went afoot in that country even a quartof a mileand gayest among them wola Chadron, the sun in her fa

springing hair.

Nolas crown reached little higher th


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a proper soldiers heart, but what shlacked in stature she supplied in plast

perfection of body and vivacity of fac

There was a bounding joyousness of liin her; her eager eyes reflecting only thanticipated pleasures of today. There wno shadow of yesterdays regret in them

no cloud of tomorrows doubt.On the other balance there was Franc

Landcraft, taller by half a head, soldierltoo, as became her lineage, in the mannof lifting her chin in what seemed

patrician scorn of small things such aslady should walk the world unconscio

of. The brown in her hair was richer ththe clear agate of her eyes; it rippleacross her ear like the scroll of watupon the sand.

There was a womanly dignity about he


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although the threshold of girlhood must nhave been far behind her that brigautumnal morning. Her nod was equal to

stave of Nolas chatter, her smile worthleague of the light laughter from th

bounding little ladys lips. Not that shwas always so silent as on that mornin

there among the young wives of the poat her own guests side. She had her houof overflowing spirits like any girl, but some company she was always grave.

When Major King was in attendancespecially, the seeing ones made notAnd there were others, too, who said th

she was by nature a colonel amowomen, haughty, cold and aloof. Thewondered how the major ever had madheadway with her up to the point

gaining her hand. Knowing ones smiled


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that, and said it had been arranged.There were ambitions on both sides

that match, it was knownambition on th

colonels part to secure his only child station of dignity, and what he held to bof consequence above all achievements the world. Major King was a rising ma

with two friends in the cabinet. It was sathat he would be a brigadier-gener

before he reached forty.

On the majors side, was the ambitioto strengthen his political affiliations balliance with a family of patrician straitogether with the money that his bri

would bring, for Colonel Landcraft wasweighty man in this worlds valueaccumulations. So the match had bearranged.

The veranda of the colonels hou


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gave a view of the parade grounds and thlong avenue that came down between thofficers houses, cottonwoods lacing the

limbs above the road. There was green the lawns, the flash of flowers betwethe leaves and shrubs, white-gleamiwalls, trim walks, shorn hedges. It seem

a pleasant place of quiet beauty that brigSeptember morning, and a pity to give up by and by to dust and desolation;

place where men and women might bhappy, but for the gnawing fire of ambitioin their hearts.

Mrs. Colonel Landcraft was not goin

Indians made her sick, she said, especialIndians sitting around in the tall grawaiting for the carcasses to be cut up anapportioned out to them in bloody chunk

But there seemed to be another source


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her sickness that morning, measuring bthe grave glances with which she searchher daughters face. She wonder

whether the major and Frances hquarreled; and if so, whether NoChadron had been the cause.

They were off, with the colonel and

lately-assigned captain in the lead. Thewas a keener pleasure in this beef dthan usual for the colonel, for he had neground to sow with its wonders, whiwere beginning to pale in his old eywhich had seen so much of the world.

Very likely well see the minister

wife there, said he, as they rode forwarand if so, it will be worth your while take special note of her. St. JohMathews, the Episcopalian minister ov

there at the missionthose whi


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buildings there among the treesis a fublooded Crow. One of the pionemissionaries took him up and sent hi

back East to school, where in time entered the ministry and married thwhite girl. She was a college girl, Iv

been told, glamoured by the romance

Mathews life. Well, it was soon over.The colonel sighed, and fell silent. Th

captain, feeling that it was intended that hshould, made polite inquiry.

The trouble is that Mathews is Indian out of his place, the colonresumed. He returned here twenty yea

or so ago, and took up his work among hpeople. But as he advanced towacivilization, his wife began to slip bacLittle by little she adopted the Indian wa

and dress, until now you couldnt tell h


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from a squaw if you were to meet her fthe first time. She presents a curio

psychological studyor perha

biological example of atavism, for believe theres more body than soul in thpoor creature now. Its nature maintaininthe balance, you see. He goes up; she sli

back.If shes there, shell be squattin

among the squaws, waiting to carry homher husbands allotment of warm, blood

beef. She doesnt have to do it, and shames and humiliates Mathews, too, evthough they say she cuts it up and divid

it among the poorer Indians. Shes savage; her eyes sparkle at the sight of rmeat.

They rounded the agency buildings an

came upon an open meadow in which th


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slaughterhouses stood at a distance frothe road. Here, in the grassy expanse, thIndians were gathered, waiting th

distribution of the meat. The scene wbarbarically animated. Groups of womin their bright dresses sat here and theon the grass, and apart from them

gravity waited old men in moccasins anblankets and with feathers in their haSpry young men smoked cigarettes antalked volubly, garbed in the worst civilization and the most useless savagery.

One and all they turned their backs up

the visitors, the nearest groups anindividuals moving away from them withe impassive dignity of their race. Theis more scorn in an Indian squaws bac

turned to an impertinent stranger, than


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the faces of six matrons of societyfinest-sifted under similar conditions.

Colonel Landcraft led his party acro

the meadow, entirely unconscious of thcold disdain of the people whom hlooked down upon from his superiheights. He could not have understood

any there had felt the trespass from thIndians sideand there was one, venear and dear to the colonel who felt it

and attempted to explain. The colonvery likely would have puffed up wimilitary consequence almost to th

bursting-point.

Feeling, delicacy, in those smearesmelling creatures! Surliness in excethey might have, but dignity, not at aWere they not there as beggars to receiv

bounty from the governments hand?


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Oh, theres Mrs. Mathews! saola, with the eagerness of a child wh

has found a quails nest in the grass. Sh

was off at an angle, like a hunter on thscent. Colonel Landcraft and his guefollowed with equal rude eagerness, anthe others swept after them, Frances alon

hanging back. Major King was at Nolaside. If he noted the lagging of his fianche did not heed.

The ministers wife, a shawl over hhead, her braided hair in front of hshoulders like an Indian woman, rose froher place in startled confusion. She look

as if she would have fled if an avenue hbeen open, or a refuge presented. Tembarrassed creature was obliged stand in their curious eyes, and stammer

a tongue which seemed to be growi


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strange to her from its uncommon use.She was a short woman, growing heav

and shapeless now, and there was gray

her black hair. Her skin was browned bsun, wind, and smoke to the hue of h

poor neighbors and friends. When sspoke in reply to the questions whi

poured upon her, she bent her head liketimid girl.

Frances checked her horse an

remained behind, out of range of hearinShe was cut to the heart with shame fher companions, and her cheek burnwith the indignation that she suffered wi

the harried woman in their midst. A littIndian girl came flying past, ducking andashing under the neck of Frances horsin pursuit of a piece of paper which th

wind whirled ahead of her. At France


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stirrup she caught it, and held it up withsmile.

Did you lose this, lady? she asked,

the very best of mission English.No, said Frances, bending over to s

what it might be. The little girl placed it her hand and scurried away again to

beckoning woman, who stood on hknees and scowled over her offspringdash into the ways of civilized little girls

It was a narrow strip of paper that shhad rescued from the wind, with the namof several men written on it in pencil, anat the head of the list the name of Al

Macdonald. Opposite that name somcrude hand had entered, with pen that hflowed heavily under his pressure, thfigures $500.

Frances turned it round her finger an


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sat waiting for the others to leave off thepersecution of the ministers wife ancome back to her, wondering in abstracte

wandering of mind who Alan Macdonamight be, and for what purpose he hsubscribed the sum of five hundrdollars.

I think shes the most romantic littthing in the world! Nola was declarinin her extravagant surface way as threturned to where Frances sat her horsher wandering eyes on the blue foothilthe strip of paper prominent about hfinger. Oh, honey! whats the matter? D

you cut your finger?No, said Frances, her serious youface lighting with a smile, its a littsubscription list, or something, th

somebody lost. Alan Macdonald heads


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for five hundred dollars. Do you knoAlan Macdonald, and what his charitab

purpose may be?

Nola tossed her head with contemptuous sniff.

They call him the king of the rustlerup the river, said she.

Oh, he isa man of consequence, thensaid Frances, a quickening of humor in h

brown eyes, seeing that Nola was up

her high horse about it.Wed better be going down to thslaughter-house if we want to see the fun

bustled the colonel, wheeling his horse.

see a movement setting in that way.Hes just a common thief! declare

ola, with flushed cheek and resentfeye, as Frances fell in beside her for th


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march against the abattoir.Frances still carried the paper twiste

about her finger, reserving her judgme

upon Alan Macdonald, for she knesomething of the feuds of that harspeaking land.

Anyway, I suppose hed like to havhis paper back, she suggested. Will yohand it to him the next time you mehim?

Frances was entirely grave about although it was only a piece of bantwhich she felt that Nola would appreciatBut Nola was not in an appreciativ

mood, for she was a full-blooded daughtof the baronial rule. She jerked her healike a vicious bronco and reined hurriedaway from Frances as she extended th

paper.


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Ill not touch the thing! said Nola, fiin her eyes.

Major King was enjoying the passag

between the girls, riding at Nolas sidwith his cavalry hands held precisely.

If Im not mistaken, the gentleman question is there talking to Miller, thagent, said he, nodding toward twhorsemen a little distance ahead. Butwouldnt excite him, Miss Landcraft, if

were you. Hes said to be the quickest andeadliest man with a weapon on thrange.

Major King smiled over his ow

pleasantry. Frances looked at Nola wibrows lifted inquiringly, as if waiting hverification. Then the grave young ladsettled back in her saddle and laugh

merrily, reaching across and touching h


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friends arm in conciliating caress.Oh, you delightful little savage! sh

said. I believe youd like to take a shot

poor Mr. Macdonald yourself.We never start anything on th

reservation, Nola rejoined, quiseriously.

Miller, the Indian agent, rode away anleft Macdonald sitting there on his horas the military party approached. H

spurred up to meet the colonel, and present his respects to the ladiesa hamatter for a little round man with a tig

paunch, sitting in a Mexican saddle. T

party halted, and Frances looked across Macdonald, who seemed to be waiting fMiller to rejoin him.

Macdonald was a supple, sinewy ma

as he appeared across the few ro


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intervening. His coat was tied with hslicker at the cantle of his saddle, his bluflannel shirt was powdered with the whi

dust of the plain. Instead of the flarineckerchief which the cowboys commonfavored, Macdonald wore a cravat, thends of it tucked into the bosom of h

shirt, and in place of the leather chaps men who ride breakneck through bruand bramble, his legs were clad in tou

brown corduroys, and fended by boots his knees. There were revolvers in thholsters at his belt.

Not an unusual figure for that time an

place, but something uncommon in the aof unbending severity that sat on himwhich Frances felt even at that distancHe looked like a man who had a purpo

in his life, and who was living it in h


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own brave way. If he was a cattle thief, charged, thought she, then she would pher faith against the world that he w

indeed a master of his trade.They were talking around Miller, wh

was going to give them places of vantagfor the coming show. Only Frances an

Major King were left behind, where shhad stopped her horse to look curiousacross at Alan Macdonald, king of thrustlers, as he was called.

It may not be anything at all to himand it may be something important, saFrances, reaching out the slip to Maj

King. Would you mind handing it to himand explaining how it came into mhands?

Ill not have anything to do with th

fellow! said the major, flushing hotl


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How can you ask such a thing of mThrow it away, its no concern of yoursthe memorandum of a cattle thief!

Frances drew herself straight. Himperious chin was as high as Major Kiever had carried his own in the most selconscious moment of his military career.

Will you take it to him? shdemanded.

Certainly not! returned the majo

haughtily emphatic. Then, softening little, Dont be silly, Frances; what a royou make over a scrap of blowing paper

Then Ill take it myself!

Miss Landcraft!MajorKing!It was the steel of conventionali

against the flint of womanly defianc


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Major King started in his saddle, as if reach out and restrain her. It was one those defiantly foolish little things whi

women and menespecially womendin moments of pique, and Frances knewat the time. But she rode away from thmajor with a hot flush of insubordinatio

in her cheeks, and Alan Macdonaquickened from his pensive pose when hsaw her coming.

His hand went to his hat when hintention became unmistakable to him. Shheld the little paper out toward him whistill a rod away.

A little Indian girl gave me this; shfound it blowing alongthey tell me yare Mr. Macdonald, she said, her face serious as his own. I thought it might be

subscription list for a church,


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something, and that you might want it.Thank you, Miss Landcraft, said h

his voice low-modulated, his mann

easy.Her face colored at the unexpected w

of this man without a coat, who spoke hname with the accent of refinement, just if he had known her, and had met hcasually upon the way.

I have seen you a hundred times at th

post and the agency, he explained, smooth away her confusion. I have seyou from afar.

Oh, said she, as lame as the wo

was short.He was scanning the written pape

ow he looked at her, a smile waking his eyes. It moved in slow illuminatio


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over his face, but did not break his lippressed in their stern, strong line. She sathat his long hair was light, and that h

eyes were gray, with sandy brows ovthem which stood on end at the poinnearest his nose, from a habit of bendithem in concentration, she supposed, as h

had been doing but a moment before hsmiled.

No, it isnt a church subscription, MiLandcraft, its for a cemetery, said he.

Oh, said she again, wondering wshe did not go back to Major King, whohorse appeared restive, and in need of th

spur, which the major gave hiunfeelingly.At the same time she noted that Al

Macdonalds forehead was broad an

deep, for his leather-weighted hat w


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pushed back from it where his fastraight hair lay thick, and that his bochin had a little croft in it, and that h

face was long, and hollowed like students, and that youth was in his eyes spite of the experience which hardships unknown kind had written across his fac

ot a handsome man, but a strong one his way, whatever that way might be.

I am indebted to you for this, said hdrawing forth his watch with a quimovement as he spoke, opening the bacover, folding the little paper carefulaway in it, and grateful beyond words.

Good-bye, Mr. Macdonald, said shwheeling her horse suddenly, smiling baat him as she rode away to Major King.

Alan Macdonald sat with his hat o

until she was again at the majors sid


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when he replaced it over his fair hair wislow hand, as if he had come from somholy presence. As for Frances, her turn

defiance had driven her clouds away. Shmet the major smiling and radiant, twinkling of mischief in her lively eyes.

The major was a diplomat, as all goo

soldiers, and some very indifferent oneare. Whatever his dignity and gentlfeelings had suffered while she was awahe covered the hurt now with a smile.

And how fares the bandit king thmorning? he inquired.

He seems to be in spirits, she replie

The others were out of sight around thbuildings where the carcasses of beef hbeen prepared. Nobody but the majknew of Frances little dash out of th

conventional, and the knowledge that


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was so was comfortable in his breast.And the pe-apers, said he,

melodramatic whisper, were they th

thieves muster roll?He isnt a thief, said she, with qui

dignity, hes a gentleman. Yes, the papewasimportant.

Ha! the plot deepens! said MajKing.

It was a matter of life and death, sa

she, with solemn rebuke for his levitspeaking a truer word than she was awar


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CHAPTER III

THE RANCHHOUSE BY THRIVER

Saul Chadron had built himself into th

house. It was a solid and assertive thing rude importance where it stood in thgreat plain, the river lying flat before it its low banks like a gray thread throuthe summer green. There was a bold froto the house, and a turret with windowstanding like a lighthouse above the sea

meadows in which his thousand-numbercattle fed.As white as a dove it sat there amon

the cottonwoods at the riverside. A strea

of water led into its gardens to gladd


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them and give them life. Years ago, wheChadrons importance was beginning feel itself strong upon its legs, and wh

ola was a little thing with light curblowing about her blue eyes, the houhad grown up under the wand of riches that barren place.

The post at Fort Shakie had been thnearest neighbor in those days, and remained the nearest neighbor still, withe exception of one usurper and outcahomesteader, Alan Macdonald by namwho had invaded the land over whiChadron laid his extensive claim. Fifte

miles up the river from the grand whihouse Macdonald had strung his barbwire and carried in the irrigation ditch his alfalfa field. He had chosen the mo

fertile spot in the vast plain through whi


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the river swept, and it was in the heart Saul Chadrons domain.

After the lordly manner of the catt

barons, as they were called in thorthwest, Chadron set his bounds b

mountains and rivers. Twenty-fivhundred square miles, roughly measure

lay within his lines, the Alamito Ranch hcalled itthe Little Cottonwood. He hno more title to that great sweep of lanthan the next man who might come alonand he paid no rental fee to nation nstate for grazing his herds upon it. But thcattle barons had so apportioned the lan

between themselves, and Saul Chadroand each member of the DroverAssociation, had the power of their mighorganization to uphold his hand. Th

power was incontestable in the Northwe


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in its day; there was no higher law.This Alan Macdonald was

unaccountable man, a man of education,

was said, which made him doubdangerous in Saul Chadrons eyes. Sahimself had come up from the saddle, anhe was not strong on letters, but he h

seen the power of learning in lawyeroffices, and he respected it, and handledwarily, like a loaded gun.

Chadron had sent his cowboys up thriver when Macdonald first came, antried to throw a holy scare into him, he put it. The old formula did not work

the case of the lean, long-jawed, bonchinned man. He was polite, but obduratand his quick gray eyes seemed to read their inner process of bluff and bluster

through tissue paper before a lamp. Wh


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they had tried to flash their guns on himthe climax of their play, he had beatthem to it. Two of them were carried bac

to the big ranchhouse in blankets, wibullets through their fleshy partsnfatal wounds, but effective.

The problem of a fighting nester w

a new one to the cattlemen of that countrFor twenty years they had kept that staunder the dominion of the steer, and heits rich agricultural and mineral lanundeveloped. The herbage there, curing the dry suns of summer as it stood on thupland plains, provided winter forage f

their herds. There was no need for man put his hand to the soil and debase himseto a peasants level when he might live a kings estate by roaming his herds ov

the untamed land.


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Homesteaders who did not know thconditions drifted there on the westwarmounting wave, only to be hustled rude

away, or to pay the penalty of refusal witheir lives. Reasons were not given, righwere not pleaded by the lords of maherds. They had the might to work the

will; that was enough.So it could be understood wh

indignation mounted in the breast of touold Saul Chadron when a pigmhomesteader put his firm feet down on thground and refused to move along at hcommand, and even fought back

maintain what he claimed to be his righIt was an unprecedented stand, dangerous example. But this nester hheld out for more than two years again

his forces, armed by some invisib


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strength, it seemed, guarded againambuscades and surprises by somcunning sense which led him whole an

secure about his nefarious ways.Not alone that, but other homesteade

had come and settled near him across thriver on two other big ranches whi

cornered there against Chadrons owThese nesters drew courage froMacdonalds example, and cunning frohis counsel, and stood against thwarnings, persecutions, and attempts forceful dislodgment. The law of migdid not seem to apply to them, and the

was no other source equal to the dignity the Drovers Associationat least nonto which it cared to carry its grievancand air them.

So they cut Alan Macdonalds fence


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and other homesteaders fences, in thnight and drove a thousand or two cattacross his fields, trampling the growi

grain and forage into the earth; thpersecuted him in a score of harassinquick, and hidden blows. But thhomesteader was not to be driven away b

ordinary means. Nature seemed to lendhand to him, he made crops in spite of thcattlemen, and was prospering. He htaken root and appeared determined remain, and the others were taking deroot with him, and the free, wide ranwas coming under the menace of the fen

and the lowly plow.That was the condition of things those fair autumn days when PrancLandcraft returned to the post. Th

Drovers Association, and especially th


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president of it, was being defied in thsection, where probably a hundrhomesteaders had settled with the

families of long-backed sons andaughters. They were but a speck on thland yet, as Chadron had told the smostranger when he had engaged him to t

his hand at throwing the holy scare. Bthey spread far over the upland plaihaving sought the most favored spots, anthey were a blight and a pest in the eyes the cattlemen.

Nola had flitted back to the ranchhouscarrying Frances with her to bring dow

the curtain on her summers festivitithere in one last burst of joy. The evewas to be a masquerade, and everybodfrom the post was coming, together wi

the few from Meander who had poli


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enough to float them, like new needles inglass of water, through frontier societydepths. Some were coming fro

Cheyenne, also, and the big house wdressed for them, even to the bank

palms to conceal the musicians, in tpolite way that society has of standi

something in front of what it cannot wedispense with, yet of which it appears

be ashamed.It was the afternoon of the festal da

and Nola sighed happily as she stood wiFrances in the ballroom, surveying th

perfection of every detail. Money cou

do things away off there in that corner the world as well as it could do them Omaha or elsewhere. Saul Chadron hahothouses in which even oranges an

pineapples grew.


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Mrs. Chadron was in the living-roomwith its big fireplace and homely thingwhen they came chattering out of th

enchanted place. She was sitting by thwindow which gave her a view of the digray road where it came over the grasswells from Meander and the worl

knitting a large blue sock.Mrs. Chadron was a cow-woman of th

unimproved school. She was a heavfeeder on solids, and she liked plenty chili peppers in them, which combinatigave her a waist and a ruddiness of falike a brewer. But she was a good wom

in her fashion, which was narrow, anintolerant of all things which did not wehoofs and horns, or live and grow mighfrom the proceeds of them. She never h

expanded mentally to fit the large pla


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that Saul had made for her in the world cattle, although her struggle had been bo

painful and sincere.

Now she had given it up, and dismissthe troubles of high life from her fat litthead, leaving Nola to stand in the doand do the honors with credit to the enti

family. She had settled down to her roasand hot condiments, her knitting and hafternoon naps, as contentedly as an ocat with a singed back under a kitchstove. She had no desire to go back to thwinter home in Cheyenne, with grandeur, its Chinese cook, and furnitu

that she was afraid to use. There was nsatisfaction in that place for MrChadron, beyond the swelling pride ownership. For comfort, peace, and

mind at ease, give her the ranchhouse b


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the river, where she could set her hand a dish if she wanted to, no one thinkingamiss.

Well, I declare! if here dont comBanjo Gibson, said she, her hand on thcurtain, her red face near the pane like

beacon to welcome the coming gue

There was pleasure in her voice, ananticipation. The blue sock slid from hlap to the floor, forgotten.

Yes, its Banjo, said Nola. I wondwhere hes been all summer? I havenseen him in an age.

Who is he? Frances inquired, looki

out at the approaching figure,The troubadour of the North Platte

call him, laughed Nola; the queerelittle traveling musician in a thousan

miles. He belongs back in the days


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romance, when men like him went playifrom castle to courtthe last one of hkind.

Frances watched him with new intereas he drew up to the big gate, which warranged with weights and levers so thathorseman could open and close it witho

leaving the saddle. The troubadour rodemustang the color of a dry chili peppe

but with none of its spirit. It came in widrooping head, the reins lying untouchon its neck, its mane and forelock plattand adorned fantastically with varcolored ribbons. Rosettes were on th

bridle, a fringe of leather thongs along treins.The musician himself was scarcely le

remarkably than the horse. He looked

that distancenow being at the gate


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be a dry little man of middle age, withthirsty look about his throat, which wlong, with a lump in it like an elbow. H

was a slender man and short, with glovon his hands, a slight sandy mustache ohis lip, and wearing a dun-colored htilted a little to one side, showing

waviness almost curly in his glisteniblack hair. He carried a violin cabehind his saddle, and a banjo in a grecovering slung like a carbine over hshoulder.

Hell know where to put his horsesaid Mrs. Chadron, getting up with a ne

interest in life, and Ill just go and havMaggie stir him up a bite to eat and warthe coffee. Hes always hungry when hcomes anywhere, poor little man!

Can he play that battery


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instruments? Prances asked.Wait till you hear him, nodded Nol

a laugh in her merry eyes.

Then they fell to talking of the cominight, and of the trivial things which are much to youth, and to watching along throad toward Meander for the expectguests from Cheyenne, who were to comup on the afternoon train.

Regaled at length, Banjo Gibson, in th

wake of Mrs. Chadron, who presented hiwith pride, came into the room where thyoung ladies waited with impatience thwaning of the daylight hours. Ban

acknowledged the honor of meeting MiLandcraft with extravagant words, whihad the flavor of a manual of politeneand a ready letter-writer in them. He w

on more natural terms with Nola, havi


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known her since childhood, and he callher Miss Nola, and held her hand withtender lingering.

His voice was full and rich, a deep, sonote in it like a rare instrument in tune. Hsmall feet were shod in the shiningest shoes, which he had given a furbishing

the barn, and a flowing cravat tied inlarge bow adorned his low collar. Thewere stripes in the musicians shirt likePersian tent, but it was as clean anunwrinkled as if he had that moment puton.

Banjo Gibsonif he had any oth

christened name, it was unknown to mwas an original. As Nola had said, hbelonged back a few hundred years, whmusical proficiency was not so commo

as now. The profession was not crowde


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in that country, happily, and Banjtraveled from ranch to ranch carryicheer and entertainment with him as h

passed.He had been doing that for year

having worked his way westward froebraska with the big cattle ranches, an

his art was his living. Banjos arrival atranch usually resulted in a dance, fwhich he supplied the music, and receivsuch compensation as the generosity of thhost might fix. Banjo never quarreled ovsuch matters. All he needed was enough

buy cigarettes and shirts.

Banjo seldom played in company wiany other musician, owing to certalimitations, which he raised distinguishing virtues. He played by air

as he said, despising the unproficiency


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all such as had need of looking on a bowhile they fiddled. Knowing nothing transposition, he was obliged to tune h

banjoon those rare occasions when stooped to play second at a dancethe key of each fresh tune. This was haon the strings, as well as on the patien

of the player, and Banjo liked best to gosingle-handed and alone.

When he heard that musicians wecoming from Cheyennea days journ

by trainto play for Nolas ball, his factold that he was hurt, but his respect hospitality curbed his words. He kne

that there was one appreciative ear in thmansion by the river that no amount dago fiddlin ever would charm ansatisfy like his own voice with the banj

or his little brown fiddle when it gave o


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the old foot-warming tunes. Mrs. Chadrwas his champion in all company, and hfriend in all places.

Well, sakes alive! Banjo, Im tickled to see you as if you was one of mown folks, she declared, her face warm as if she had just gorged on th

hottest of hot dishes which her Mexiccook, Maggie, could devise.

Im glad to be able to make it aroun

agin, thank you, mom, Banjo assurher, sentiment and soul behind the simpwords. I always carry a warm place my heart for Alamito wherever I m

stray.Nola frisked around and took the banfrom its green cover, talking all the tim

pushing and placing chairs, and settli

Banjo in a comfortable place. Then sh


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armed him with the instrument, makiquite a ceremony of it, and asked him

play.

Banjo twanged the instrument into tunhooked the toe of his left foot behind thforward leg of his chair, and struck upsong which he judged would please th

young ladies. Of Mrs. Chadron he wsure; she had laughed over it a hundrtimes. It was about an adventure which th

bard had shared with his gal in a pladesignated in Banjos uncertavocabulary as the big cook-quari-um.

began:

Oh-h-h, I stopped at a big cook-quari-umNot very long ago,

To see the bass and suckers

And hear the white


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whale blow.

The chorus of it ran:

Oh-h-h-h, the big sea-line hehowled and he growled,

The seal beat time on adrum;

The whale he swallered a den-vereel

In the big cook-quari-um.

From that one Banjo passed to ThCowboys Lament, and from tragedy love. There could be nothing more movi

if not in one direction, then in anotherthan the sentimental expression of Banjolittle sandy face as he sang:

I know you were once my true-


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lov-o-o-o,

But such a thing it has anaind;

My love and my transpots areov-o-o-o,

But you may still be myfraind-d-d.

Sundown was rosy behind the distamountains, a sea of purple shadows lavtheir nearer feet, when Banjo got out h

fiddle at Mrs. Chadrons request and sanher favorite along with the moving tonof that instrument.

Dau-ling I am growing-a o-o-eld,Seel-vo threads a-mong tho go-o-ld

As he sang, Nola slipped from the room


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He was finishing when she sped by thwindow and came sparkling into the roowith the announcement that the guests fro

far Cheyenne were coming. Frances wup in excitement; Mrs. Chadron searchthe floor for her unfinished sock.

What was that flashed a-past th

winder like a streak a minute ago? Baninquired.

Flashed by the window? No

repeated, puzzled.Frances laughed, the two girls stoppiin the door, merriment gleaming from theyoung faces like rays from iridesce

gems.Why, that was Nola, Frances to

him, curious to learn what the sentimenteyes of the little musician foretold.


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I thought it was a star from the skysaid Banjo, sighing softly, like a fallinleaf.

As they waited at the gate to welcomthe guests, who were cantering up withcurtain of dust behind them, they laughover Banjos compliment.

I knew there was something behinthose eyes, said Frances.

No telling how long hes been savin

it for a chance to work it off osomebody, Nola said. He got it out ofbookthe Mexicans all have them, full brindies, what we call toasts, and sil

soft compliments like that.Ive seen them, little red books th

they give for premiums with the Mexicpapers down in Texas, Frances nodde

but Banjo didnt get that out of a book


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it was spontaneous.I must write it down, and compare

with the next time he gets it off.

Give him credit for the way hdelivered it, no matter where he got itFrances laughed. Many a mosophisticated man than your desetroubadour would have broken his neover that. Hes in love with you, Noladidnt you hear him sigh?

Oh, he has been ever since I was oenough to take notice of it, returned Nollightly.

Oh, my luvs like a falling star

paraphrased Frances.Not much! Nola denied, more th

half serious. Venus is ascendant; yokeep your eye on her and see.


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CHAPTER IV

THE MAN IN THE PLAIDThere was no mistaking the assiduity wiwhich Major King waited upon No

Chadron that night at the ball, any mothan there was a chance for doubt of thlively little ladys identity. He sought hat the first, and hung by her side throu

many dances, and promenaded her in thgarden walks where Japanese lanterglimmered dimly in the soft Septembnight, with all the close attention of farrier cooling a valuable horse.

Perhaps it was punishmentor meato befor the insubordination of Franc

Landcraft in speaking to the outlaw


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Alan Macdonald on last beef day. If so,was systematically and faithfuladministered.

Nola was dressed like a cowgirl. Nthat there were any cowgirls in that part the country, or anywhere else, whdressed that way, except at the Pione

Week celebration at Cheyenne, and in thromantic dramas of the West. But she wso attired, perhaps for the advantage thshort skirt gave her handsome anklesand something in silk stockings whiapproached them in tapering grace.

She was improving her hour, wheth

out of exuberant mischief or in deadearnest the ladies from the post wepuzzled to understand, and if headwtoward the already pledged heart of Maj

King was any indication of it, her star w


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indeed ascendant.Frances Landcraft appeared at the ba

as an Arabian lady, meaning in her ow

interpretation of the masking to stand asrepresentation of the Thou, who endearingly and importantly capitalized the verses of the ancient singer ma

famous by Irish-English Fitzgerald. Hdisguise was sufficient, only that her hawas so richly assertive. There was not alike it in the cattle country; very little likit anywhere. It was a telltale, precio

possession, and Major King never couhave made good a plea of hidden identi

against it in this world.Frances had consolation enough for halienation and absence from her side numbers could compensate for th

withdrawal of the fealty of one. Sh


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distributed her favors with such judicifairness that the tongue of gossip could nfind a breach. At least until the ta

Scotsman appeared, with his defiant rhair and a feather in his bonnet, his plafastened across his shoulder with a goldclasp.

Nobody knew when he arrived, whence. He spoke to none as he walked grave stateliness among the merry groupacknowledging bold challenges and g

banterings only with a bow. The ladifrom the post had their guesses as to whhe might be, and laid cunning little traps

provoke him into betrayal through hvoice. As cunningly he evadedthem, with unsmiling courtesy, h

steady gray eyes only seeming to laugh

them behind his green mask.


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Frances had finished a dance with Robin Hoodthe slender one in billiarcloth greenthere being no fewer th

four of them, variously rounded, diverseclad, when the Scot approached her wheshe stood with her gallant near thmusicians brake of palms.

A flask of wine, a book of verseand Thou

Beside me singing in thewilderness

said the tall Highlandman, bending ovher shoulder, his words low in her ea

Only I could be happy without the winehe added, as she faced him in quisurprise.

Your penetration deserves a reward

you are the first to guess it, said she.


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Three dances, no less, said he, likeusurer demanding his toll.

He offered his arm, and straightw

bore her off from the astonished RobHood, who stood staring after them

believing, perhaps, that he was the victiof some prearranged plan.

The spirit of his free ancestors seemto be in the lithe, tall Highlanders feeThere was no dancer equal to him in th

room. A thistle on the wind was nlighter, nor a wheeling swallow mograceful in its flight.

Many others stopped their dancing

watch that pair; whisperings ran rounlike electrical conjectures. Nola steerMajor King near the whirling couple, aneven tried to maneuver a collision, whi

failed.


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Who is that dancing with FrancLandcraft? she breathed in the majorear.

I didnt know it was Miss Landcrafthe replied, although he knew it very weand resolved to find out who the Scotsmwas, speedily and completely.

My enchanted hour will soon passsaid the Scot, when that dance was donand I have been looking the world ov

for you.Dancing all the way? she asked hilightly.

Far from it, he answered, his voi

still muffled and low.They were standing withdrawn a litt

from the press in the room after thesecond dance, when Major King came b


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The major was a cavalier in drooping hawith white satin cape, and sword by hside, and well enough known to all h

friends in spite of the little spat mustache and beard. As the major passehe jostled the Scot with his shoulder wia rudeness openly intentional.

The major turned, and spoke apology. Frances felt the Highlandermuscles swell suddenly where her hanlay on his arm, but whatever had spruinto his mind he repressed, anacknowledged the majors apology withlofty nod.

The music for another dance wbeginning, and couples were whirling oupon the floor.

I dont care to dance again just now

delightfully as you carry a clumsy one lik


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me throughA self-disparagement, even, can

stand unchallenged, he interrupted.

Mr. Macdonald, she whispereyour wig is awry.

They were near the door opening to thillumined garden, with its late roses, noat their best, and hydrangea clum

plumed in foggy bloom. They stepped oof the swirl of the dance like particl

thrown from a wheel, not missed thmoment even by those interested keeping them in sight.

You knew me! said he, triumphant

glad, as they entered the gardencomparative gloom.

At the first word, said she.I came here in the hope that you wou


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know me, and you aloneI came with mheart full of that hope, and you knew me the first word!

There was not so much marvel satisfaction, even pride for h

penetration, in it.Somebody else may have recogniz

you, toothat man who brushed againyou

Hes one of your officers.

I knowMajor King. Do you knohim?No, and he doesnt know me. He c

have no interest in me at all.

Very well; set your beautiful red wstraight and then tell me why you wantto come here among your enemies. seems to me a hardy challenge, a mo


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unnecessary risk.No risk is unnecessary that brings m

to you, he said, his voice trembling

earnestness. I dared to come becausehoped to meet you on equal ground.

Youre a bold manin more waythan one. She shook her head as in rebukof his temerity.

But you dont believe Im a thiefsaid he, conclusively.

No; I have made public denial of itShe laughed lightly, but a little nervouslan uneasiness over her that she could ndefine.

An angel has risen to plead for AlMacdonald, then!

Why should you need anybody plead for you if theres no truth in the


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charges? What is a man like you doing this wild place, wasting his life in a lanwhere he isnt wanted?

They had turned into a path thbranched beyond the lanterns. The whigravel from the river bars with which was paved glimmered among the shadow

shrubs. Macdonald unclasped his plafrom his shoulders and transferred it hers. She drew it round her, wrapping harms in it like a squaw, for the wind wcoming chill from the mountains now.

It is soon said, he answered, quiwillingly. I am not hiding under any oth

mans namethe one they call me by heis my own. I was a son of a family, athey say in Mexico, and looked fdistinction, if not glory, in the diplomat

service. Four years I grubbed, an und


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secretary in the legation at Mexico Citthen served three more as consul Valparaiso. An engineer who helped p

the railroad through this country told mabout it down there when the rust of minactive life was beginning to canker m

body and brain. I threw up my chance f

diplomatic distinction and came off uhere looking for life and adventure, anmaybe a copper mine. I didnt find thmine, but Ive had some fun with the othtwo. Sometimes Id like to lose thadventure part of it nowit gets tiresomto be hunted, after a while.

What else? she asked, after a littlseeing that he walked slowly, his head uhis eyes far away on the purple distancof the night, as if he read a dream.

I settled in this valley quite innocentl


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as others have done, before and after mnot knowing conditions. Youve heard said that Im a rustler

King of the rustlers, she corrected.Yes, even that. But I am not a rustle

Everybody up here is a rustler, MiLandcraft, who doesnt belong to, or wofor, the Drovers Association. They canoust us by merely charging us wihomesteading government land, for th

hasnt been made a statutory crime yeThey have to make some sort of a chargagainst us to give the color of justificatioto the crimes they practice on us, an

rustler is the worst one in the cattlemendictionary. It stands ahead of murder anarson in this country. Im not saying theare no rustlers around the edges of the

big ranches, for there are some. But


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there are any among the settlers up oway we dont know itand I think we

pretty soon find out.

They turned and walked back towathe house.

I dont see why you should troubabout it; this plainly isnt your place, shsaid.

First, I refused to be driven out bChadron and the rest because the thing g

on my mettle. I knew that I was right, anthat they were simply stealing the publdomain. Then, as I hung on, it becamapparent that there was a mans work c

out for somebody up here. Ive taken thready-made job.Tell me about it.Theres a monstrous injustice bein


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practiced, systematically and cruellagainst thousands of homeless people whcome to this country in innocent hop

every year. They come here believing itthe great big open-handed West theyvheard so much about, carrying everythiwith them that they own. They cut t

strings that hold them to the things thknow when they face this way, and whthey try to settle on the land that is theinheritance, this copper-bottomcombination of stockmen drives them ouIf they dont go, they shoot them. Youvheard of it.

Not just that way, said shthoughtfully.No, they never shoot anybody but

rustler, the way the world hears of it

said he, in resentment. But theyll he


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another story on the outside one of thedays. Im in this fight up to the eyes

break the back of this infernal combinati

thats choking this state to death. Its thfirst time in my life that I ever laid mhand to anything for anybody but myseand Im going to see it through

daylight.But there must be millions behind th

cattlemen, Mr. Macdonald.

There are. It seems just about hopelethat a handful of ragged homesteaders evcan make a stand against them. But theyusurping the public domain, and they

overreach themselves one of these dayChadron has title to this homestead, bthats every inch of land that hes got legal right over. In spite of that, he lays th

claim of ownership to the land fifte


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miles north of here, where Ive nesteHes been telling me for more than twyears that I must clear out.

You could give it up, and go back your work among men, where it woucount, she said.

There are things here that count. couldnt put a state on the mapindustrial and progressive one, I mean

back home in Washington, or sitting wi

my feet on the desk in some sleepconsulate. And Im going to put this staon the map where it belongs. Thats thob thats cut out for me here, Mi

Landcraft.He said it without boast, but with suchstubborn note of determination that she fesomething lift within her, raising her to th

plane of his aspirations. She knew th


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Alan Macdonald was right about although the thing that he would do wstill dim in her perception.

Even then, I dont see what a ranaway off up here from anywhere ever w

be worth to you, especially when the pois abandoned. You know the department

going to give it up?And then you he began

consternation, checking himself to ad

slowly, no, I didnt know that.Perhaps in a year.It cant make much difference in th

value of land up this valley, though, h

mused. When the railroad comes throughand that will be as soon as w

break the strangle hold of Chadron anmen like himthis country will develo

overnight. Theres petroleum under th


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land up where I am, lying shallow, toThat will be worth something then.

The music of an old-style dance w

being played. Now the piping cowbvoice of some range cavalier rose, callithe figures. The two in the garden paturned with one accord and faced aw

from the bright windows again.Theyll be unmasking at midnight? h

asked.

Yes.Im afraid I cant go in again, then. Thhour of my enchantment is nearly at end.

You shouldnt have come, shchided, yet not in severity, rather subdued admiration for his reckle

bravery. Suppose they


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Mac! O Mac! called a cautious, lovoice from a hydrangea bush close hand.

Whos there? demanded Macdonalspringing forward.

Theyre onto you, Mac, answered thvoice from the shrub, theyre goin to dyou hurt. Theyre lookin for you now!

There was a little rustling in the leavas the unseen friend moved away. Th

voice was the voice of Banjo Gibson, bnot even the shadow of the messenger hbeen seen.

You should have gone beforehurry

she whispered in alarm.Never mind. It was a risk, and I too

it, and Id take it again tomorrow. It gavme these minutes with you, it was wor


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You must go! Wheres your horse?Down by the river in the willows.

can get to him, all right.They may come any minute, theyNo, theyre dancing yet. I expect

theyd find me out; they know me too weIll get a start of them, before they evknow Im gone.

They may be waiting farther onw

dont you gogo! Therelisten!Theyre saddling, he whispered, low sounds of haste came from th

barnyard corral.

Goquick! she urged, flinging hplaid across his arm.

Im goingin one moment more. MiLandcraft, Ill ride away from you tonig


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perhaps never to see you again, and ifspeak impetuously before I leave yoforgive me before you hear the words

theyll not hurt youI dont believtheyll shame you.

Dont say anything more, MMacdonaldeven this delay may co

your life!Theyll kill me if they can; theyv

tried it more than once. I never kno

when I ride away whether Ill ever returIt isnt a new experience, just a littgraver than usualonly that. I came hetonight because II came toin the hop

he stammered, putting out his hands if supplicating her to understand, his plafalling to the ground.

Go! she whispered, her hand on h

arm in appeal, standing near him


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dangerously near.Ive got a right to love youIve got

right! he said, the torrent of his passio

leaping all curbing obstacles of delicacconfusion, fear. He flung the words frohim in wild vehemence, as if they eased

pang.

Nono, you have no right! youIll leave you in a minute, France

without the expectation of ever seeing y

againonly with the hope. Its mine love you, mine to have you if I comthrough this night. If youre pledged another man it cant be because you lov

him, and Ill tear the right away from hiif I come through this night!He spoke rapidly, bending so near th

his breath moved the hair on her templ

She stood with arms half lifted, her han


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clenched, her breath laboring in hbosom. She did not know that loveshad not known that lovecould spring u

that way, and rage like a flame beforewind.

If youre pledged to another man, thIll defy him, man to manI do defy him

I challenge him!As he spoke he stooped, suddenly, lik

a wind-bent flame, clasped her, kisse

her, held her enfolded in his arms onmoment against his breast. He releasher then, and stepped back, standing taand silent, as if he waited for her blast

scorn. It did not come. She was standiwith hands pressed to her face, as if cover some shame or sorrow, or ease ththrobbing of a soul-deep pain.

The sound of men and horses came fro


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the corral. He stood, waiting for judgmenGo now, she said, in a sad, sma

voice.

Give me a token to carry away, to teme I have not broken my golden hope, hsaid.

No, Ill give you nothing! shdeclared, with the sharpness of onwronged, and helpless of redress. Yohave taken too muchyou have taken

What? he asked, as if he exulted what he heard, his blood singing in hears.

Oh, gogo! she moaned, strippi

off one long white glove and throwing it him.

He caught it, and pressed it to his lipthen snatching off his bonnet, hid it ther


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and bent among the shrubbery and wgone, as swiftly and silently as a woFrances flew to the house and up the stai

to her room. There she threw up thwindow and sat panting in it, straininlistening, for sounds from the river road.

From below the voices of the revele

came, and the laughter over the secrehalf-guessed before masks were snatchaway around the banquet table. There wa dash of galloping hoofs from the corrathe clatter of the closing gate. The soungrew dimmer, was lost, in the sand of thhoof-cut trail.

After a little, a shot! two! a silencthree! and one as if in reply. Francslipped to her knees beside the opwindow, a sob as bitter as the pang

death rising from her breast. She pray


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that Alan Macdonald might ride fast, anthat the vindictive hands of his enemimight be unsteady that night by the gr

riverside.


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CHAPTER V

IF HE WAS A GENTLEMANDont you think wed better drop it nowFrances, and be good?

Major King reined his horse near heas he spoke, and laid his hand on th

pommel of her saddle as if he expected meet other fingers there.

You puzzle me, Major King, shreturned, not willing to understand.

They were bringing up the rear of th

tired procession which was returning the post from the ball. Already the eawas quickening. The stars near the horizwere growing pale; the morning wind w

moving, with a warmth in it from the lo


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places, like a tide toward the mountains.Oh, I mean this play acting

estrangement, said he, impatiently. Let

forget itit doesnt carry naturally wieither you or me.

Why, Major King! Her voice wlively with mild surprise; she was lookiat him as if for verification of his wordThen, slowly: I hadnt thought of aestrangement, I hadnt intended to bri

you to task for one flirtatious night. Bsure, sir, if it has given you pleasure, has brought me no pain.

You began it, said he, petulantly. It

almost unbelievable how boyishly sillyfull-grown man can be.I began it, Major King? Its too ear

in the morning for a joke!


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You were wilful and contrary; yowould speak to the fellow that day.

Oh! deprecatingly.

Never mind it, though. Wilfulnedoesnt become either of us, Frances. Ivtried my turn at it tonight, and it has leme cold.

Poor man! said she, in low voiclike a sigh. Perhaps it was not all fMajor King; perhaps not all assumed.

Lets not quarrel, Frances.Not now, Im too tired for a real gooone. Leave it for tomorrow.

He rode on in silence, not sure, mayb

how much of it she meant. Covertly shlooked at him now and then, thinki

better of him for his ingenuous confessiof failure to warm himself at little No


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Chadrons heart-flame. She extended hhand.

Forgive me, Major King, she sai

very softly, not far removed, indeed, frotenderness.

For a little while Major King left hhorse to keep the road its own way, hcavalry hands quite regardless of manuaregulations, and military airs. Both them were enfolding her one. He mig

have held it until they reached the post, bthat she drew it away.There were some qualms of uneasine

in her breast that hour, some upbraidin

of conscience for treason to Major Kinof whom she had been girlishly fongirlishly proud, womanly selfish. Thquick, wild scene in the garden was not

be put away for all those arraignments


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her honest heart, although it seemimpossible, recalled there in the thin houof that long and eventful night, lik

something remembered of another, not herself.

Her cheeks grew hot, her heart leapagain, at the recollection of that stro

mans wild, bold words, his defiant kiupon her lips. She had yielded them in threcklessness of that moment, in the forof his all-carrying demand, when shmight have denied them, or sped awfrom him, as innocence is believed know from instinct when to fly from

destructive lure.Closing her eyes against the gracreeping morning, she saw him agaistanding that moment with her glove to h

lips; saw him bend and speed away, th


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cunning of his hunted ancestors in hswift feet and self-eliminating form. wild fear struck her, a cold dread fell lik

ashes into her heart, as she wondered howell he had ridden that night, and how fa

Perhaps he was lying in his blood thhour, never to come back to her agai

Yet, why should it matter so much to heOnly that it was a gallant life gone ouwhatever its faults had been; only thinterest that she might have in any mwho had danced with her, and told her hstory, and spoken of his designs. So shsaid, confessing with the same breath th

it was a poor, self-deluding lie.Back again in her home at the post, thday awake around her, reveille soundinin the barracks, she turned the key in h

door as if to shut the secret in with he


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and bent beneath the strain of her losuspense. She no longer tried to conceaor to deny to her own heart, the love sh

bore that man, which had come suddenly, and so fiercely sweet.

No longer past than the evening befoher heart had ached with jealous pain ov

the little triumph that Nola Chadron hthought she was making of Major Kin

ow Nola might have Major King, and athe world beside that her little head migcovet. There was no reservation in thsurrender that she made of him in hconscience, no regret.

She reproached herself for it in onbreath, and glowed with a strange negladness the next, clasping the great secrfearfully in her breast, in the world-o

delusion that she had come in


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possession of a treasure uniquely ansingularly her own. One thing shunderstood plainly now; she never h

loved Major King. What a revolution was to overturn a lifes plans thus in single night! thought she.

How easily we are astounded by th

eruptions in our own affairs, and hodisciplined in the end to find that thfoundations of the world have withstoothe shock!

Chadron himself had not gone out aftMacdonald. He had been merry among hguests long after the shots had sounded u

the river. Frances believed that the oman had put the matter into the hands his cowboys and ranch foreman, having nsons, no near male relatives of his own

that place. She did not know how ma


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had gone in pursuit of Macdonald, bseveral horses were in the party whirode out of the gate. None had returne

she was certain, at the time the pardispersed. The chase must have led thefar.

There was no way of knowing what th

result of that race had been. I

Documents

Ogden George W - The Rustler of Wind River