WmeSHEH 
 f^ WAS 
 
 LIFF 
 CO 
 
 f^CHARI£SBDSS JACKSON 
 
 ■■^^^^^ >^^^. muM 
 
 
 
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY OF 
 
 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO 
 
 CHARLES ROSS JACKSON 
 
 •* The novel is written with a great deal of skill and possesses an 
 abundance of action and dramatic power. It is not always convincing, 
 but it has the commendable faculty of holding the interest until the last 
 word. Louis F. Grant contributes a number of effective illustrations." 
 
 —Philadelphia Press. 
 
 ** There are readers whose jaded taste calls for something thrilling. 
 Charles Ross Jackson is the author for their money." 
 
 — Rochester Democrat and Chronicle. 
 
 ** Few writers have a better knack of writing swiftly moving stories 
 of adventure than Charles Ross Jackson. He who reads ' The Sheriff 
 of Wasco ' for leisure hour pleasure will consider himself fortunate once 
 he has well started its perusal." — Cleveland Plaindealer. 
 
 " The story presents the criminal phase of life in the West, and 
 describes the deeds of daring and danger performed by ' The Sheriff of 
 Wasco ' in his war upon outlaws and desperadoes. " — Toledo Blade. 
 
 " It is a lively story, well told, ingenious and has a somewhat novel 
 twist to the plot, in that the Sheriff makes the girl believe that he is the 
 outlaw and arouses her love and admiration even under these disadvan- 
 tageous conditions." — New York Sun. 
 
 " One of the most exciting scenes in the book is the fight between 
 the two men, with none but nature's weapons. It is graphic to an 
 extreme, and the reader is more inclined to cry 'Go it! ' than to be 
 repelled by the brutality of it. It forms a fitting close to the story." 
 
 — Chicago Tribune. 
 
 ** * The Sheriff of Wasco' is a book to bring back the thrills of boy- 
 hood, when deeds of daring had a glamour beyond anything ever 
 dreamed of by the poets. It is a story of adventure in wild Western 
 days." — New York Tribune. 
 
 "Charles Ross Jackson has told a good story in 'The Sheriff of 
 Wasco,* a yarn with a fascinating plot, extremely interesting characters, 
 and abounding in bits of desperate adventure." — Boston Globe. 
 
 '* We do not know whether * The Sheriff of Wasco,' by Charles 
 Roas Jackson, has been dramatized or not, but if not it ought to be. 
 There is a great deal of thrilling material in it and plenty of rapid fire 
 action. One of the most vividly described combats ever seen on any 
 iXz%t,*''~''Philadelphia Inquirer. 
 
 i2mo^ Cloth boundy Illustrated^ $1.30 
 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM CO.. Piiblist>ets, NEW YORK 
 
They were alone on the wild mountainside. 
 
 Frontispiece. 
 
 Pasre 135 
 
THE SHERIFF 
 OF WASCO 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES ROSS JACKSON 
 
 Illustrations by 
 LOUIS R GRANT 
 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 
 
Copyright, 1907, BY 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM CO. 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 (Issued April, 1907) 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco 
 
5/)e 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. The Sheriff's Duty 9 
 
 II. The ]\[ountain Camp 30 
 
 III. The New Boss 47 
 
 IV. Mr. Thorn's Daughter 64 
 
 V. In the Silent Land 85 
 
 YI. The Stranger 98 
 
 VII. The Night on the Mesa 113 
 
 VIII. A DouBTFUTL, Identity 121 
 
 IX. The Return Journey - 134 
 
 X. A Nocturnal Adventure 150 
 
 XI. The Sheriff Under Fire 161 
 
 XII. A Hardened Sinner 172 
 
 XIII. On the Rampage 184 
 
 XIV. The Revelation 195 
 
 XV. A Visit to Hilltown 205 
 
 XVI. The Sheriff and Talabam 226 
 
 XVII. Man to Man 244 
 
 XVIII. Hardeman's Defl\nce 263 
 
 XIX. A Midnight Visit 280 
 
 XX. The Reckoning 205 
 
 MGGS70G 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " So are ;'<?2^ a dandy " ^^4 
 
 They were alone on the wild mountamside . . . i35 
 "Hands up, Hardeman— you're my prisoner" . .258 
 All the afternoon they rode alone beneath the leafy 
 
 canopies 3^2 
 
THE SHEEIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE sheriff's DUTY. 
 
 Wasco County in the State of Oregon had 
 recently held an election to fill the vacant post 
 of Sheriff. Considering the vote was unani- 
 mous, there being but one candidate who aspired 
 to the honor, a stranger might have thought 
 Wasco was unduly triumphant and elated at the 
 result. The citizens, however, knew their own 
 affairs. The last Sheriff had been shot, and his 
 posse overpowered, by a band of desperate law- 
 breakers and criminals who had chosen the hills 
 of Wasco county for their rendezvous. The 
 leader, a wild cutthroat named Hardeman, 
 whom the marshals and sheriffs of other states 
 would gladly have laid their hands on, had sent 
 an insolent defiance into Centreville, begging 
 for an early election, that he might have another 
 Sheriff to annihilate. 
 
 The newly-elected Sheriff was not a politician 
 
 9 
 
10 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 but a civil engineer by profession. Heretofore 
 he bad held a good position with the railroad, 
 and was generally regarded as a man of pros- 
 pects. But when the old Sheriff was shot and 
 the people of Wasco sought in their indignation 
 and distress for some one whom they could pit 
 against Hardeman and his ruffians, it was to this 
 young engineer, who had lived the greater part 
 of his life in their midst, and whom they knew 
 for a man of indomitable courage and resource- 
 fulness, that their hopes turned. He was the 
 man for the emergency, if he could but be per- 
 suaded of it. So a committee of the citizens 
 waited upon him and in breezy Western style in- 
 formed him how the case stood. They knew he 
 was doing well with the railroad, they admitted, 
 and that the position of Sheriff was a mighty poor 
 one alongside the one that he held. But they 
 needed somebody besides a politician for Sheriff 
 just now. They hereby requested him to run for 
 office, because they thought he was the kind that 
 could rid the county of Hardeman and his gang. 
 They firmly believed he was the only man there- 
 abouts who was built with the necessary quali- 
 fications; and they needed his services — by thun- 
 der, they did. 
 
 The young man colored slightly, looked keenly 
 at the committee as it faced him expectantly, 
 and remarked : — 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WAISCO. 11 
 
 " If the citizens of Wasco want me, if they 
 think thej need me — hang it, I'll try I '^ 
 
 This was the reason for the rejoicing and the 
 lack of opposition in Wasco. 
 
 He entered on his duties as Sheriff with a 
 quiet enthusiasm that hugely delighted his 
 friends, because they knew its meaning so well. 
 Though he was young he was of the kind that 
 raises expectations in men's minds when cool- 
 ness and ready wit and iron courage are the 
 needs of the moment. Tall, lean and brown, 
 with a gray-blue fearless eye that women remem- 
 bered and criminals also if they lived long 
 enough, he knew every one of the desperadoes by 
 sight, and they knew him for the best shot in 
 Oregon. 
 
 Some day, sooner or later, Hardeman was go- 
 ing to meet a man who could 'jigM, and who could 
 draw his gun with a quick, silent, hitching mo- 
 tion that was quicker than the draw of any other 
 man in the Northwest ; and the county of Wasco 
 was deeply, supremely confident of the result. 
 
 The efforts of the new Sheriff were crowned 
 with success, one reason for which, perhaps, was 
 his daredevil spirit and the inborn love of ad- 
 venture which carried him beyond what even 
 outlaws themselves would dare. He was their 
 close kinsman in that respect; indeed he might 
 have been an outlaw himself were it not for the 
 
12 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 unswerving upward slant of his nature toward 
 righteousness which had made him a Sheriff in- 
 stead. No expedition that he led failed. His 
 posses followed him with boundless faith, be- 
 cause it was a peculiarity of his to inspire con- 
 fidence in those whom he enlisted. After six 
 months such a number of the renegades had suf- 
 fered capture or death that the remainder were 
 severely discouraged and melted away to points 
 beyond the jurisdiction of the young Wasco 
 Sheriff. Some few, however, remained; and of 
 these the most dangerous was the leader, Harde- 
 man, who held his ground, breathing wild oaths 
 of vengeance on his enemy. 
 
 The high crimes for which this outlaw w^as re- 
 sponsible were numerous, and their details only 
 too well known to every man in that region. Ab- 
 ductions, train robberies, and hold-ups in nearly 
 every neighboring county and state were in the 
 list. He was wanted for several murders, mostly 
 of women who had fallen into his clutches; yet 
 side by side with the stories of his fierce lawless- 
 ness and inhuman disregard for life came queer 
 tales of his good looks and his gallantry to the 
 sex. Evil and cruel and treacherous as he was at 
 all times, he could nevertheless be agreeable and 
 ingratiating, and could fawn and flatter like a 
 courtier when it suited his own purposes. Men 
 feared him for his cunning and his murderous 
 
TUE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 13 
 
 tendencies, his strength, and his deadly use of 
 his gun. Women feared him as they would have 
 feared a wild man-ape or a passionate gorilla. 
 When he captured a woman he rarely allowed his 
 followers access to her, having competent de- 
 vices of his own for torturing her to death. Here 
 and there one would escape wholly unharmed. 
 But this whimsical mercy appeared to be due 
 merely to his vanity, for despite his rapacity 
 and wickedness he had a grimly humorous con- 
 ception of himself as a lovelorn troubadour, and 
 occasionally it happened that a victim would owe 
 her escape to it. 
 
 One day some twenty miles outside Centreville 
 the Sheriff and his posse, wet to the skin and 
 fiercely disgusted with the mere mention of 
 outlaws, climbed sullenly a lonely hillside trail. 
 A storm was raging, and the heights above were 
 a dripping tangled wilderness, while below the 
 dark swaying growths concealed the precipitous 
 descent to the river, rushing with the voice and 
 fury of a torrent toward the falls half a mile 
 lower down the gorge. 
 
 Somewhere in the storm-beaten wilds above 
 was Hardeman with the remnant of his gang, 
 only five now, but all the choicer spirits, for it 
 was a war which only the fittest survived to 
 fight. Their latest outbreak had been a bank 
 robbery not far from Centreville, in the perform- 
 
14 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 ance of which they had murdered the watch- 
 man and escaped untouched with their plunder 
 into the hills. A young settler, known to the lo- 
 cality as Jeff, had carried the news to the Sheriff 
 at Centreville and been one of the first to join 
 the posse which started instantly in pursuit. 
 
 High up around the shoulder of the hill as it 
 rose sheerly out of the gorge and flung its wooded 
 contours against the stormy sky, a light gleamed 
 through the drenched boughs. It came from a 
 deserted cabin standing well back from the trail 
 and almost overhanging the steep. Within its 
 shelter were the five whom the posse, two miles 
 further down the trail, was seeking. Hardeman 
 himself was not present. With the wariness of 
 the large beast of prey he was prowling about 
 the vicinity of his new lair before intrusting 
 himself to it, and in his absence those lesser ones 
 were drinking and boasting and otherwise mak- 
 ing merry, believing themselves secured by the 
 tempest. 
 
 " What a sweet night ! Say you, leave some- 
 thing in that bottle, will you, an' shove it along 
 here quick. What d' you think 's keeping Devil 
 Hardeman out so long?" 
 
 " Blown over the cliff, I hope, where the shack's 
 goin' too if this wind keeps up. No, you don't 
 git that bottle, Tarrant; you've had enough. 
 Want to git the Devil down on us? " 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 15 
 
 " That's all right. I'll drink when I choose, 
 an' the Devil be hanged. Where's that loot he's 
 got stowed awaj somewhere fer safe-keepin' — 
 eh? Tell me that, will you? I want my share. 
 He's a hawg, he is." 
 
 " Tell him so, sonny." 
 
 The shack resounded with a growling laugh. 
 The boaster subsided. 
 
 '"Yes, he's a hawg all right," agreed the 
 second. " He gits the hawg's share of it all — ■ 
 incloodin' the loot an' the fun, an' most partick- 
 larly the sex. Ladies is his prime stunt, ther's 
 no denyin' it. You, Tarrant, we hereby app'int 
 you a committee o' one to tell him them there 
 failin's o' his." 
 
 Evidently it was a joke which bore repetition. 
 The servility of their leering laughter, the 
 abashed anger of the one they taunted, bore wit- 
 ness for them that they were lesser ones, and 
 had a master whose qualities they envied and 
 feared. 
 
 " Who're you to talk anyway?" said the butt, 
 aroused to valor by their jeers. " Think I'm 
 one o' your sort, do you? Why you couldn't 
 shoot that bank watchman last week at twenty 
 yards, an' Hardeman had to come an' smash him 
 on the head afore he'd keep quiet. When I 
 shoot, I shoot straight. An' when I git ready to 
 talk to Hardeman he'll listen, you bet." 
 
16 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 " But while he's here you won't drink. — Take 
 that, jou barking pup." 
 
 The band wheeled around cautiously as a 
 heavy flask, aimed at Tarrant's head, emphasized 
 the words and silenced him. Within the wind- 
 shaken door stood their master, his evil mouth 
 smiling at them. 
 
 " I'm listening, you bluffers. Don't you all 
 talk at once," he scoffed. His voice was as evil 
 as his mouth, but neither loud nor harsh; on the 
 contrary, it was as smooth and quiet and fascin- 
 ating as the blue sheen on his half-raised Colt. 
 
 " You can put up yer gun. We ain't kickin'," 
 said one of the lesser ones. 
 
 " That's good." 
 
 Hardeman slipped back the Colt, and slouched 
 toward them jeeringly, not yet placated. He 
 was the youngest, though he was chief. It was 
 a jest among them, though one not mentioned in 
 his presence, that he was not unlike his mortal 
 enemy the Sheriff of Wasco. A handsome air of 
 strength sat on his wild face, not overcome even 
 by its potentiality for wickedness. He had the 
 deadly grace and sureness of movement of the 
 panther, and he was equally unhampered by 
 those little weaknesses that come with the 
 growth of the social instinct, such as mercy and 
 justice, and consideration for the rights of 
 others. Else he would not have been the alert 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 17 
 
 bandit he was, or the master of that assembled 
 company. 
 
 His eyes, glittering with savage satire, were 
 fixed upon Tarrant the boaster, who stood di- 
 rectly in front of the shelf whereon reposed two 
 bottles of the forbidden whiskey. Pausing for 
 the space of a second before him the master ban- 
 dit whipped out his Colt again with a lightning 
 like flash, and sent two shots crashing past the 
 fellow's face, so close that the boaster stood with 
 a streak of blood traversing one cheek, while be- 
 hind his head the bottles flew to splinters and 
 the whiskey dripped over the shelf. 
 
 " Seems to me you said y' could shoot straight. 
 Any straighter'n that, Mr. Tarrant? '' inquired 
 Hardeman softly and insolently. 
 
 The frightened bandit staggered back against 
 the wall, his hands upraised. " I'm done. I 
 ain't in the same class with you. You're Devil 
 Hardeman," he laughed with shaking servility. 
 
 " Keep it in yer mind," said Hardeman. Then 
 he looked round the group. 
 
 " No drinks fer this outfit till we're in safe 
 territory. That's my rule, an' you know it. 
 Understand? I ain't no Temperance lady or- 
 dinarily. Any o' you got objections to make?" 
 
 They agreed with him hastily, knowing his un- 
 certain temper. With one hand on his hip he 
 surveyed them, a swaggering smile on his 
 
18 THE SHERIFF OF ^YASCO. 
 
 swarthy face proclaiming that, despite appear- 
 ances, his mood tonight was amiable. 
 
 " No drinks, boys, but something a heap bet- 
 ter. The trouble with us is our tastes ain't re- 
 fined enough. We're a set o' wanderin' prodigal 
 sons. Livin' the way we do we don't git no re- 
 fined comp'ny to speak of. Ain't that so?" He 
 closed one eye and leered at them with the other, 
 while his face with its wild suggestions of beauty 
 was doubly terrible because of some seed of 
 possible goodness that had once struggled for 
 growth in it, but was now lost for ever. '' Seems 
 to me this here outfit's in need o' the elevatin' 
 sassiety o' womankind." 
 
 With shouts of profane laughter they crowded 
 about him, demanding eagerly to know his 
 plans. So he unfolded them shortly. 
 
 " The creek down below is flooded up. It's got 
 hold o' the sawmill, an' the men are all out rakin^ 
 in the timber — " he paused again with the 
 wicked smile creeping to his mouth and his eye- 
 lid dropping salaciously. 
 
 With a whoop of comprehension they hitched 
 forward their weapons and examined them hur- 
 riedly. He was a leader to follow, despite his 
 slight faults of temperament. But a sudden un- 
 pleasant thought struck one of them. 
 
 " There's that consarned thief of a Sheriff ! 
 Whereabouts do you reckon he is to-night? " 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 19 
 
 " In bed with his nightcap an' a hot water 
 bottle," said Hardeman in his slow, fiercely 
 musical voice. " Or he'd better be, hang him I 
 But just in case he ain't — " the master bandit 
 betrayed the unadmitted fear in his soul as he 
 drew out a white hairy mass from his clothing, 
 and in another moment stood transfigured before 
 their eyes, a tall old man, white-haired and 
 diabolic, with a tragic limp. 
 
 They howled their appreciation of him. Lay- 
 ing his Colt on the table he condescended to the 
 humor of the moment, and hobbled amiably 
 about the dimly-lit shack. 
 
 " The natural protector of distressed ladies ! 
 That's me! Ask the Sheriff o' Wasco," he 
 drawled sportiyely. " He's the reg'ler hall- 
 marked article himself " 
 
 But the master had done a rare thing in sep- 
 arating himself from his weapon — and it proved 
 a deadly mistake. With a ponderous crash the 
 crazy door of the shack flew open; in a second 
 the room was filled with a crowd of determined- 
 faced angry men. Foremost among them was 
 the Sheriff, at whose nod a man leaped forward 
 and seized the Colt lying on the table. Harde- 
 man recognized him as the settler who bad wit- 
 nessed the affair at the bank and escaped, owing 
 to bad management. 
 
 The surprised bandits made a desperate fight. 
 
20 THE SIIEIUFF OF WASCO 
 
 The posse was furious to discover that the leader, 
 the chief object of the pursuit, was apparently 
 absent. In the instant melee that took place 
 they had no time to notice the lame, hoary 
 headed wickedness standing unarmed, but dia- 
 bolically alert, in the corner, his eyes glaring de- 
 fiance as the band, grimly fighting, w^ent down 
 before the victorious angry posse. 
 
 Seeing himself unobserved, an illumined 
 crafty look mingled for a second with his malig- 
 nancy. Another second and rage got the better 
 of craft as the third man went down with a 
 bullet in his shoulder, shouting to him for help. 
 With a snarl of fury the white-haired one leaped 
 on the assailants, flinging them back with pro- 
 digious strength, wielding his aged iron fists like 
 sledge-hammers. A pistol held in the hand of 
 Jeff, the informer, pointing straight between his 
 eyes recalled him. Of what use to betray him- 
 self to yonder lynx-eyed enemy of his, the 
 Sheriff, whom in the depths of his soul he 
 dreaded — for a mere matter of friendship? 
 Black rage almost stifling him, he flung up his 
 hands and backed off limping. 
 
 " Shootin' lame old ducks ain^t just in my line, 
 an' I'd certainly hate to hurt ye,'' said the young 
 settler grimly as he followed him, across the 
 cabin. " You go an' set down an' leave this busi- 
 ness to us." 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 21 
 
 The disguised master grinned murderously 
 into the face of the younger man. 
 
 '^ Put up yer gun, baby face, an' I'll show you 
 blazin' quick which of us is the man," he 
 mouthed, rage quickening the ordinary slow in- 
 solence of his Yoice. ' 
 
 '^ Likely ye would. Ye surely scare me," said 
 Jeff disrespectfully. 
 
 The posse meantime was securing the pri- 
 soners. '^ What'll we do with this here lame old 
 Santy Claus, Sheriff?" said Jeff without turn- 
 ins; his head. " Brinof him alon^? " 
 
 The Sheriff glanced round from his occupation 
 in another corner. The murky light showed him 
 nothing beyond the attitude of the two, yet he 
 seemed slow in replying. 
 
 ^•' I'll send round a carriage an' pair for him, 
 Jeff, if it will oblige you. Ain't you afraid o^ 
 hurting his feelings with those rough tactics o' 
 yours?" There was a sarcastic, doubtful twist 
 on the speaker's mouth ; his cap was cocked back- 
 w^ard at a challenging angle. " Was he with 'em 
 that night at the bank? " 
 
 " Xope, didn't see no grandpaps in that job," 
 responded the settler. 
 
 '' Well, maybe you was some excited," said the 
 Sheriff tolerantly. He had risen to his full 
 height, and his eyes were flashing inquiringly up 
 and down the singularly powerful bulk of the 
 
22 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 white-haired one. " Suppose jou step lively here 
 to the light, grandad/' he suggested. ^' I don't 
 seem to see you real well there." 
 
 The accumulating suspicion of the remark 
 brought about an instantaneous explosion in the 
 shack. Before a single man of the startled posse 
 could comprehend, the outlaw had turned and 
 in one leap knocked Jeff senseless and gained 
 the door. In that same instant the Sheriff's Colt 
 crashed, and a deep furious oath of pain broke 
 from the figure as it sprang out into darkness. 
 
 Yelling '^ Hardeman " the awakened posse 
 flung pell-mell after it. 
 
 But it was much too late. No visible sign ap- 
 peared, but from the face of the precipice below 
 arose on the wind the smashing sounds of a 
 heavy body falling through the obstructing tree 
 trunks. Right beneath roared the current, and 
 the posse stared down into the blackness with 
 satisfied faces, saying that the fugitive's death 
 was certain. 
 
 " Absolutely certain," assented the grim, 
 baffled Sheriff. " The only point that ain't fully 
 settled regardin' that event, boys, is the date. 
 That needs clarifyin ' before I bet on it. Let's 
 get this crowd back to Centreville." He ground 
 his jaws together and turned back to the other 
 prisoners. They were furtively exulting, but 
 when he came up and looked them over with hisj 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO 23 
 
 stern, quiet ejes thev repressed their sense of 
 humor and marched down hill before him in 
 gloomy silence. 
 
 Meantime the flood had Hardeman in its 
 grasp. Had he been less hardened and desperate 
 than he was, or his muscles a whit less trained 
 it would have carried him over the falls. The 
 Sheriff's bullet had grazed his thigh, and the 
 pain of that hampered his efforts, but he gritted 
 his teeth and fought the currents with a fury 
 as great as theirs, while they tore from him con- 
 temptuously his venerable white hair and beard, 
 and tossed him at last on the opposite shore an 
 exhausted and much younger man, safe for the 
 present from pursuit. 
 
 He bound up his wound to the best of his 
 ability; it was but a slight one; and then lay 
 in his dripping clothes and slept till dawn. 
 Exposure had no terrors for his constitution of 
 iron. He arose in the early morning, a leader 
 robbed of his band, a fierce, slinking, wild 
 animal, without resources except such as his 
 cunning and strength could win for him, and 
 consuming with the desire for vengeance. 
 
 It was not possible to reach the Sheriff. Be- 
 sides it was highly inadvisable to try. But there 
 were others who could be made to pay at less 
 risk, — Jeff, for instance. 
 
 Jeff was poorer sport than Hardeman was per- 
 
24 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 sonally interested in, but he suggested an idea. 
 Jeff had a cabin some twelve miles out of Centre- 
 ville, and in the cabin he had a young wife whom 
 Hardeman knew to be pretty and winsome. 
 And he knew too, that Jeff was forced to spend 
 much time away from his cabin. 
 
 The outlaw examined his wounded leg and 
 furiously cursed the Sheriff. " He nearly got 
 me. — The band's broke up too, an' I've got to 
 light out. But I'll knock that Sheriff's reputa- 
 tion, an' I'll spoil Jeff's peace o' mind some 
 afore I go." His wicked face assumed its most 
 Satanic expression; passion made his words 
 thick; the lurking fiend in him was fully roused 
 and dominant. " To-night's spree was spoiled, 
 thanks to the Sheriff. What of it ? I'll have 
 another an' a better. I'll show 'em now w^hat 
 Hardeman is. They need enlightenin', they do. 
 I'll leave my footprints on the sands of time. 
 I've done it afore — an ' I'll do it again." 
 
 Into Centreville one day, a week later, came 
 limping wildly a crazed, pitiful, battered wreck, 
 who wept and pleaded fiercely to see the Sheriff. 
 
 " There he is comin', Jeff; — what is it, man? — 
 What's the trouble? " questioned the sympathetic 
 crowd eagerly. But it surged along with him 
 unanswered, Hardeman's name echoing from lip 
 to lip. They knew that kind of trouble. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 25 
 
 "Sheriff, for God's sake," cried the raving 
 man. " It's my wife and my baby. Hardeman's 
 killed him — my baby. I came home and saw it. 
 And he's got my wife. I've looked for him two 
 days. But I'm beat. Get your horse." 
 
 Jeff fell on his knees exhausted, but clung 
 around the Sheriff's legs, raving and crying. 
 " Take me with you. Damn his black soul — 
 Take me with you." 
 
 The Sheriff brought the broken man upright 
 on his feet. The gentleness of his voice was 
 a terrible thing. 
 
 " Stand up Jeff, man. Steady ! Now, which 
 way did his trail lead ? " 
 
 " North," said the husband dementedly. " I 
 hope my girl's dead by this time." He wrung his 
 hands and fell to weeping openly. The men 
 swore deep oaths at the sight, for he had been 
 one of them, and his unfortunate plight stirred 
 them to the core. 
 
 " Boys, I'll take six of you," said the Sheriff. 
 His voice, though quiet, roused them like a 
 bugle call, and a score rushed upon him, begging 
 and swearing. He chose his six. "Get your 
 guns and horses, we'll start in twenty minutes. 
 Bring along grub for six days." 
 
 They cursed him in grim joy. " You'll get him, 
 Sheriff; you'll get the this time," and scat- 
 tered after their horses and guns. 
 
26 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO 
 
 But the stricken man prayed and entreated to 
 be taken also, all useless as he was to this gather- 
 ing whirlwind of justice. The Sheriff staved a 
 moment to console him. 
 
 " Leave it to us, Jeff. The bovs are in a 
 terrible hurry, and if you kept 'em back for one 
 minute you'd never forgive yourself. We'll get 
 him quicker without you." 
 
 " You'll bring him back to me, Sheriff ! " 
 
 " Can't promise that, Jeff. But if I don't 
 you'll know he's in hell," said the Sheriff com- 
 fortingly as he strode away. 
 
 In less than the twenty minutes the posse had 
 gathered again, every one of the grim-faced men 
 who stayed behind inspecting the riders, eagerly 
 assisting and offering advice. 
 
 " How's that pony's foot, Jim? You kin have 
 mine if you want to." — " Going to take the upper 
 trail. Sheriff? Yep — bring you out quicker, an' 
 the ponies '11 stand it all right. — So long — and 
 luck to you ! " and they held back the leader's 
 horse by the bit, while they reminded him. 
 " Don't shoot him if you can help it, Sheriff. 
 We'd like to see him first. — But if you do shoot 
 • — by thunder, shoot quick," they cried as the 
 posse rattled past toward the upper trail. 
 
 " Don't you worry 'bout that, boys," the 
 Sheriff called back. The excitement of the rest 
 seemed not to have touched him; or if it had it 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 27 
 
 showed only in his greater command of himself 
 and them. 
 
 As he rode off, jamming his visored cap down 
 to shade his eyes, the sunshine gleaming on his 
 brown, keen face„ he was determined in his heart 
 that this v/ould be his last search for Hardeman. 
 But he felt not an inkling of where the quest 
 would lead him, nor of the novel company in 
 which it would finally reach an end. Sheer 
 excitement over the start caused a bystander 
 to laugh gruffly and confide to his neighbor. 
 " HandBome cuss — darned if he ain't — that 
 Sheriff." 
 
 For the posse the quest was shorter than 
 they had anticipated. They found Hardeman's 
 tracks, and next day they found Jeff's wife. 
 Her husband's wish concerning her had come 
 true. She was dead, and the outlaw had left a 
 note with her for the Sheriff, sublimely confident 
 that he would come for it. 
 
 " So long. Sheriff," he w^ote, " I'm crossing 
 the Columbia. Washington suits my health 
 better than Oregon. You're beat, you long- 
 legged cockerel." 
 
 The Sheriff read this missive with a look of 
 profound regret. Then he put it in his pocket 
 and looked round on his dejected posse. 
 
 " I reckon you won't be in at the finish, 
 bovs. He's crossed the Columbia. I'm real dis- 
 
28 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 appointed on your accounts." Grunts of rage 
 and disgust answered him and told him the 
 strength of their feelings. " But I'll bring him 
 to jou if he'll come alive," he assured them. 
 
 " How I You goin' across into Washington, 
 Sheriff? " 
 
 " Sure. Goin' to China and the North Pole 
 if it's necessary. I'm going to get the man that 
 did this thing — " the Sheriff looked down with 
 smouldering eyes, " the man that did this ain't 
 fit to w^alk this fair earth. I'll get the necessary 
 legal permission and follow him until I get him." 
 
 Their confidence in him comforted them some- 
 what, and with variously expressed emphasis 
 they assented. 
 
 " But we'd like to be with you, Sheriff — dog- 
 gone it, we'd like to be with you at the finish," 
 they complained bitterly. 
 
 " It won't be possible, boys; I've got a notion 
 he'll strike up north to the Olympics and their 
 wilderness. He'll find plenty of his own sort 
 there." As he spoke the Sheriff took his horse 
 and was ready to depart when he remembered 
 something. " Somebody'd oughter look in and 
 do the right thing for Jeff's little kid. Poor 
 Jeff's so locoed, I guess he's clean forgot that," 
 he said in his gentlest voice. 
 
 "All right, Sheriff," they answered heartily. 
 " We'll tend to that. And you? " 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO 29 
 
 " I'll get right back to Centreville and use the 
 telegraph. I'll finish the details by morning and 
 get the proper authority tc act, and then I'll 
 take the train north. He won't beat me by many 
 hours." 
 
 " An' when you get him, Sheriff — when you get 
 him? " they muttered vengefully. 
 
 The Sheriff's face hardened. " When I get 
 him, boys — " he repeated, the flash of steel glim- 
 mering between his narrowing eyelids " When I 
 get him — Ye gods, do you have to ask?" he in- 
 quired with the explosive fury of an oath, and 
 then, turning his horse, he galloped rapidly 
 away. 
 
 The posse buried Jeff's wife and later his 
 child, and returned to town in the early hours 
 of the morning. The Sheriff was already gone. 
 Those who had seen him remarked that he had 
 said scarcely a word upon going except, " Poor 
 Jeff, poor Jeff ! " 
 
 " But if you'd seen his face you'd 'a known 
 Hardeman had reached his limit," they said. 
 '-' He '11 meet up with a hungry grizzly the day 
 he meets that there han'vsome, easy-going Sheriff 
 ' — an' don't you ferget it." 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN CAMP. 
 
 Over the rugged heights of the Olympic range 
 the blood-red sun hung for a moment like a ball 
 of fire in the shimmering sky, then slowly it 
 dipped behind a granite peak and sank majestic- 
 ally toward the Pacific. Ere it disappeared from 
 view behind the range it cast a last radiant bril- 
 liance over the waters of Admiralty Inlet and the 
 busy hustling city of Seattle, built terrace upon 
 terrace upward on the eastern shore. Then it 
 flared its parting light upon the far-famed snow 
 cap of Mount Ranier, leagues beyond and to the 
 south. 
 
 Northw-ard the Straits of Juan de Fuca blazed 
 for a moment as its waters seemingly swallowed 
 the departing light that all day long had danced 
 upon its currents. Then British Columbia van- 
 ished ; and a distant yellow haze proclaimed that 
 Victoria was alight by the hand of man, that 
 darkness was to be met by the light of electricity. 
 
 Meanwhile all was hushed in gloom at the 
 base of the Olympics. 
 
 30 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 31 
 
 Robbed of the sun's rays suddenly and com- 
 pletely, night had hastened in the foothills, while 
 vet the distant shores and the great snow- 
 capped cone of Ranier shone in the full glow of 
 evening light. 
 
 The forests of great pine and fir in the foot- 
 hills were blanketed by a darkness oppressive 
 and fearsome. The night creatures began their 
 cautious movements, and here and there a pair 
 of yellow eyes pierced the gloom and then dis- 
 appeared at the sudden creak of a bough or the 
 scurrying of some four-footed denizen. Far 
 aloft the swaying of the tree-tops sang the 
 nightlv lullabv of the forest. 
 
 A few hundred feet above the level of the dis- 
 tant waters was a clearing perched on the roll- 
 ing top of a foothill, and in this clearing were 
 rude log cabins and ruder men; husky, broad- 
 shouldered fellows, whose faces shone bv the 
 light of the camp fire with the color of health 
 and the tan of prolonged exposure. 
 
 Surrounded by the dark wall of huge Oregon 
 firs, the men were moving briskly about the clear- 
 ing. Low words of command came from the one 
 nearest the camp fire, before whom a line of his 
 fellows stood waiting for a moment with some- 
 thing of a rough, military precision. They were 
 all armed — with revolvers, hanging. Western 
 fashion, at the right side, and the short rifle, or 
 
32 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 carbine, a weapon well suited to these woods, 
 and of great power and effectiveness. 
 
 The leader, Captain Butts, he of the camp fire, 
 was expressing himself primitively but effect- 
 ivelj^ 
 
 " If you boys don't bag a few smugglers this 
 dark night, you're a string of fresh water salmon. 
 Look out for Chinks. There's sure to be a boat 
 load or two land near the point yonder. See you 
 get 'em, and when you do get 'em bring 'em into 
 this camp. And bring in their opium too. 
 You savvy? " 
 
 " Sure we will," came in audible chorus. 
 
 " I guess you will," assented the burly com- 
 mander grimly. " Don't any o' you gents bag a 
 smuggler an' tell me he ain't got the opium. Be- 
 cause if that's the case," and Butts indulged in a 
 pause that was dark with emphasis, ^' I'll know 
 you liave — see? " 
 
 Beneath the surface good-nature of this plain 
 discourse was earnestness enough to render cer- 
 tain of the men before him uneasy. They were 
 all members of the San Juan de Fuca patrol, 
 whose duty was to catch opium smugglers from 
 British territory, also, incidentally, to look out 
 for Chinamen, known to them as "' Chinks," and 
 prevent them from stepping across by the boat- 
 load into Uncle Sam's country from British 
 Columbia. The patiol sincerely tried to exclude 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 33 
 
 the Orientals, but occasionally if the Chinaman 
 happened to have some good salable opium and a 
 pair of fast running legs they failed. It was 
 peculiarly difficult to hit a Chinaman under such 
 circumstances, especially when his earnest desire 
 was merely to become a good ' Melican man.' 
 Butts had been long enough at the station to 
 know that some of the patrol vv'ere growing rich, 
 and he suspected, wise man, that a portion of the 
 opium captured was never reported to him, but 
 was disposed of in the nearby centres of civiliza- 
 tion by the dishonest members of the patrol. 
 
 The men disappeared by twos and threes 
 through the woods towards the shore. Captain 
 Butts watched them go, and was moved to mut- 
 ter to himself half admiringly ! " The finest set 
 of sons of guns I ever knew, — but hang 'em they 
 like to graft on to the dope fer themselves once 
 in a while." Then he turned westward, and 
 alone made for a point of the shore some dis- 
 tance away. 
 
 The lantern he carried was unlighted. After 
 tramping about two miles down a trail that fol- 
 lowed the water's edge he ensconced himself in 
 the darkness behind a fallen tree not far from 
 the road and waited. 
 
 A storm was due to break before morning, as 
 was foretold by the low moaning voice of the 
 wind, sweeping across the miles of billowing tree 
 
34 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 crests aloft. A likely night for smugglers. The 
 patrol would make great efforts he knew. As 
 leader he was ambitious to make a capture alone 
 if possible. It was easier to manage those rough 
 fighting fellows, collected from the four corners 
 of the country, by physical strength and courage 
 and proved resources, than by any amount of 
 words. 
 
 Suddenly as the troubled moon cast a dim 
 shadow for a moment across the waters he raised 
 himself slightly and drew his carbine towards 
 him with a swift but silent motion. The moon 
 disappeared again, but the muffled sound of oars 
 came indistinctly on the wund. 
 
 " A lone smuggler," he breathed grimly, 
 " Thinks he's got a nice easy job, I presume, 
 landing in this out o' the way little cove. Why, 
 the confidin' cuss must think this patrol is a 
 figger-head to the State o' Washington.'' 
 
 Slowly he crawled on hands and knees to the 
 water's edge, and concealed behind a rock 
 awaited the landing. In a moment the boat 
 rushed upon the pebbles and a man sprang 
 ashore. In the dim light Butts saw a six-footer 
 with athletic frame and body, and square, strong 
 face. He saw too that the stranger was heavily 
 armed. 
 
 The size and armament of the man however 
 
THE SIIElilFF OF WASCO. 35 
 
 had no great effect upon the leader of the patrol. 
 He was used to all kinds of men and guns. 
 
 The stranger advanced. That instant Butts 
 leveled his carbine, remarking in a voice that 
 could scarcely be heard ten feet off. ^' Hands up, 
 stranger — no monkey business." 
 
 It had a most wonderful effect upon the un- 
 known. With incredible swiftness he whirled, 
 ducked low, and like a fiend launched himself 
 upon Butts below his leveled gun. 
 
 Never before in those parts had a smuggler 
 failed to obey the command of an armed patrol- 
 man, but this time it was different. Butts had 
 no time to pull trigger or to reach for revolver 
 before he found himself in the grasp of arms 
 that were crushing the life out of him. He 
 fought back with vicious swings and smashing 
 blows, but he was borne heavily to the ground. 
 
 He realized then that he was in the hands of 
 a superior, of one who was bent on murder rather 
 than capture, and who would finish him in short 
 order. Such strength he had never encountered 
 in human being, so he roared for help with fierce 
 reverberating cries that echoed and reechoed 
 along the shores and into the woods; at the same 
 time rolling over and over with his silent adver- 
 sary, fighting with the desperation of despair. 
 He seized the man's neck and closed with a grip 
 of iron, but he was shaken loose. 
 
m THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 Then he staggered to his feet, and the two 
 swayed across the beach in deadly combat at 
 close quarters. Suddenly Butts felt a crashing 
 blow on the head. He trembled, and the light of 
 the night world went out in overwhelming pain, 
 and in a cloud of blackness. 
 
 Connor and the Italian, Miguel, both members 
 of the patrol, who were stalking along the road 
 by the Straits, heard the cries of their captain 
 from afar and hastened with all speed towards 
 the scene. 
 
 They arrived just as the desperate fight was 
 over. Lighting their small hand lanterns they 
 beheld their chief lying unconscious on the beach, 
 face upward, and showing evidence of severe 
 punishment. In the boat there was nothing. 
 The unknown had either escaped with his load, 
 or, as Miguel suggested, the whole affair looked 
 so like the flight of a desperado that there was 
 probably no load of any kind. 
 
 " That man killa anybody. He not smuggle; 
 he one them bada men. Gotta way. Butts mada 
 mistaka.'' 
 
 Miguel had reference to the rather numerous 
 outlaws who often made for the Olympic range 
 where the mountain fastnesses afforded secure 
 retreat, and where the abundance of wild game 
 insured a plenty of food. 
 
 The two carried their chief with difficulty 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASJC. 3' 
 
 through the woods. Long before arriYing at the 
 clearing they were joined by others of the patrol, 
 who came crashing through the woods by all the 
 known short cuts in answer to the signals of 
 distress. With the powerful strength of woods- 
 men they rushed the unconscious man to the 
 glare of the camp fire and ministered to his needs 
 in a rough but earnest manner. 
 
 Disagreements of daily life, petty jealousies 
 and personal spites were lost in the presence of 
 severe and dire necessity. One and all they for- 
 got Butts' severity. He was their chief, their 
 leader, although a well-nigh dead one, and with 
 one accord they fell to and did what experience 
 had taught them was proper under the circum- 
 tances. 
 
 Without further ceremony they threw a bucket 
 of water over his head, and Miguel placed a 
 square of salt pork on the back of his neck, while 
 Connor slapped his soles with the handle of an 
 ax. 
 
 " He's most gone fer sure," volunteered Jenks 
 of the day patrol. 
 
 " He's not gone," answered Connor, '^ he's sim- 
 ply overcome by the suddenness. We could hear 
 him yelling a mile off; it was an awful fight." 
 
 " It sounda lika hella," acquiesced Miguel. 
 
 Butts opened his eyes and gazed around at 
 
38 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 the men, who welcomed him back to life with 
 joyful exclamations. 
 
 " Where's the opium," asked the injured man 
 suddenl}'. 
 
 " Wasn't no opium," answered Connor, " You 
 went up against a desperado, and not a smug- 
 gler/' 
 
 Butts sat up. " See here, don't you give me 
 any bluff. Who found, me? " 
 
 " Me and the Italian," nodded Connor. 
 
 " Produce the drug." 
 
 " None to produce," laughed Connor. 
 
 The dazed Butts rose, seizing the ax-handle, 
 and felled first Connor and then Miguel. Fight 
 gleamed from his pale and ghastly face as he 
 lunged menacingly toward the rest, but they 
 overpowered him and bore him, limp as a rag, 
 into the cabin to his bunk. 
 
 Connor sat up and washed his bleeding head 
 without apparent malice. 
 
 " The boss thinks we're stealing opium all the 
 while," he remarked with a sickly smile. " He 
 won't stand fer any more graft, boys; " and they 
 all grinned half guiltily at the speaker. Miguel 
 voiced the general sentiment as he seized the 
 salt pork and clapped it on to his aching head, 
 and rolling over on the ground remarked dis- 
 gustedly : 
 
 *^ Butts he damma bada proposition." 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 39 
 
 The day shift, now thoroughly awake, joined 
 the night squad around the fire and fell to dis- 
 cussing the mystery of the assault. That their 
 chief was no infant in strength they could tes- 
 tify; the more therefore they admired the awful 
 prowess of his assailant. They made known in 
 language strong and emphatic their earnest de- 
 sire to meet with him. 
 
 Tom Jones, a loose-limbed, heavy footed giant 
 who lay sprawled on his belly, amusing himself 
 throwing twigs in the fire while the others 
 talked, rose up on one elbow and doubted it in a 
 tremendously earnest bass voice. 
 
 " You fellows 'r all blowin' 'bout what you'd 
 be liable to do if you flopped up against that 
 gentleman o' the row boat. You've all got 
 dreams, I say." 
 
 '' Dreams," they echoed, " What you mean I 
 Dreams? " 
 
 '' Yah — dreams. Think you'd do stunts, don't 
 you? You's sick in yer upper stories. That 
 fellow is no smuggler. Y^ou know that. Smug- 
 glers don't put up a fight ; they divide the opium. 
 Now this fellow was business from start to fin- 
 ish. He was out fer trouble." 
 
 At this moment a Chinaman, one of the cooks, 
 came softly from the cabin where Butts was 
 being cared for, and squatted near the circle. 
 He had a peculiar expression on his tanned Ce- 
 
40 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 lestial face, and those around the fire divined in 
 an instant that he had important news, but was 
 waiting to be asked. 
 
 Jones sat up and fumbled with his carbine, 
 then looking across the fire remarked in a long 
 drawl : 
 
 " If you silent Mongolian don't break yer si- 
 lence pretty doggone quick I'll pinkey yer 
 stomach with a piece o' lead outer this gun." 
 
 Yang Foo, for such was the cook's name, 
 took a long breath, and instinctively slid his 
 hand over his stomach, looking appealingly and 
 beseechingly at the others. He got no encour- 
 agement, however; and a second speaker with 
 mock seriousness suggested that they all " pin- 
 key " some lead into his stomach. 
 
 The Oriental winced and then decided to take 
 chances. " You plinkee lead in my tlummick 
 you gettee onlee lice." 
 
 " Lice in his stomach," guffaw^ed a new mem- 
 ber of the squad. 
 
 " Lice nothing. He's a Chink an' queer on his 
 letters. He means rice," explained Jones. 
 
 " Yess," lisped Yang Foo, ''- no goodee plinkee 
 me." 
 
 " That's right," they bawled in chorus. " Lead 
 wouldn't hurt such an innocent as you, you pig- 
 tailed secret bearer. Out with it Yang — 
 Quick! !" 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO 41 
 
 Yang looked solemn, and swaying his body 
 sideways', began in a sing-song voice: 
 
 ^^ Buttsee say he got lickee bly a gleat tallee 
 'Melican man. Yang Foo was lookee lound in 
 Seattle las' Monday, an' Seattle was lookee 
 lound findee big 'wayman, namee Lardyman. 
 He lunnee 'way flom Olegon." 
 
 The men listened attentively to the China- 
 man's sing-song statement, and when it Tvas fin- 
 ished there was a thoughtful silence, broken by 
 Jenks, one of the younger fellows. 
 
 " I'm from Oregon, boys, as you know. The 
 Chink says Seattle was looking 'round for a 
 highwayman by the name of Lardyman, escaped 
 from Oregon. He means the biggest desperado 
 of the Northwest — Hardeman." 
 
 Every man pulled himself to a sitting pos- 
 ture, and instinctively felt for his small arms. 
 They knew the import of that statement; for 
 the name was familiar to all of them, and the 
 deeds perpetrated by this man were passed from 
 camp to camp throughout both Oregon and 
 Washington. 
 
 Then Yang Foo commenced again, swaying 
 his body in rhythmic accord to his words. 
 
 " Lardyman lunne 'way in boatee, 'Melican 
 man in Seattle say." 
 
 " Ean away in a boat, did he? He's the man 
 that got Butts, boys," said Jones with convic- 
 
42 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 tion. " Better keep your eyes peeled now. 
 There'll be something doing round here before 
 long." 
 
 The fitful moon had long since gone in. The 
 sky above the clearing was black with banked 
 clouds, and the roar of the wind in the tree- 
 tops was like the rushing of a torrent. Vivid 
 flashes of lightning burst forth, paling the camp- 
 fire and lighting up, with unearthly distinct- 
 ness, the jagged peaks around; and then down 
 came the rain, at first in wind driven drops, 
 then in sheets that obscured all vision and 
 speedily extinguished the fire, driving the men 
 to the shelter of the cabin. 
 
 The captain, awakened by the uproar, was 
 quickly made to understand the probable iden- 
 tity of the lone smuggler whose attempted ar- 
 rest had been followed by such unexpected and 
 painful results. The name of Hardeman was 
 balm to Butts' pride in himself. Plainly it had 
 re-established his wounded credit with the patrol- 
 men. Swinging his legs sullenly out of the bunk 
 "The deuce — where's that Chink?" he de- 
 manded fiercely. 
 
 Yang Foo, half intimidated by his own sud- 
 den importance, repeated his sing-song recital. 
 
 " Hardeman, eh — ? " and the leader mouthed 
 the name in a sort of savage amiability; then he 
 whirled unsteadily on the young man from Ore- 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 43 
 
 gon. " Ever see that fellow, Jenks. What's he 
 like? " 
 
 '' Seen him once in Wasco county, where I 
 come from," said Jenks. " He's tall, and fine- 
 limbed. Chief. Big, six foot two and maybe 
 more, and walks sorter— wa'll, sorter elegant an' 
 almighty. He's got a fine face, and he's quick 
 enough to knock the claws off a wild cat. You'd 
 reckon he was a mighty interestin' acquaintance 
 if you didn't know him. But he's the slickest 
 animal this side of the Rockies— especially wath 
 the women." 
 
 The torches lit up the circle of shrewd rugged 
 faces, all deeply intent on this description of 
 the great outlaw w^ho had honored the wilds of 
 the Olympics with his presence. Commander 
 Butts banged his fist against his open palm, cry- 
 ing vehemently, " We'll drive the slick cuss back 
 to Oregon. — Or we'll string him up in these 
 woods, eh, boys? " 
 
 " Naw," interrupted Jenks enigmatically, 
 '- you won't drive him back to Oregon." 
 
 "We won't? Why not?" they cried, w^heel- 
 ing on him. 
 
 " Because he's afraid. That's w^hy.'^ 
 
 "Afraid? Hardeman afraid of Oregon?" 
 
 "Nope. He ain't afraid of Oregon, or any 
 other state I've heard tell of. He's afraid of 
 just one man in Oregon though." 
 
44 THE SHERIFF OF WAS 00. 
 
 " Who in thunder — ? " they inquired half sar- 
 castically. 
 
 " The Sheriff of Wasco." 
 
 The captain's face gathered into a thoughtful 
 frown. ^' I've heard of that son of a gun. He's 
 more talked of than the devil himself in Wasco. 
 Keg'ler , they say he is." 
 
 ^' That what they say? Well noiv — " and 
 Jenks swallowed a sound like a delighted 
 chuckle. ^' I'm from Wasco myself," he said 
 proudly ; ^' and I've heard by letter that the 
 Sheriff is after Hardeman. Coming into Wash- 
 ington, acting under special papers. I'll bet he's 
 on the fugitive's trail now, an' that's what made 
 that outlaw so darned hurried. Turr'ble se- 
 rious cuss, the Sheriff is, when he gets down to 
 business " 
 
 A knocking at the cabin door interrupted 
 Jenk's eulogy, and two Indians stalked majes- 
 tically in from the storm, the older dressed as a 
 chief and still a young man, the other a hand- 
 some youth in his teens, evidently his son. 
 
 " How, Chief Talabam. What brings you 
 here to-night — jou and Chidwan?" queried the 
 captain. 
 
 " Chidwan heard the fight, and he told his 
 Chief father. Talabam comes as the white man's 
 friend to see Chief Butts. Chidwan said the 
 Chief was hit in the head.'' 
 
THE SHERIFF OF ^VASCO. 45 
 
 The patrolmen grinned, and the Indian's face 
 lit with the suspicion of a grim smile. 
 
 " Hit all over, Talabam,-' muttered Butts dis- 
 gustedly. " It was Hardeman who did it — the 
 great outlaw from Wasco." 
 
 " Wasco/' said the Indian with interest. ^^ In 
 Wasco are many bad men. Do the white brothers 
 know that Talabam, Chief of the Yakimas, lived 
 in Wasco when he was a small brave — smaller 
 than Chidwan? Talabam knows of Wasco." 
 
 The Indian was beseiged with questions at 
 once, but he knew nothing much of recent do- 
 ings in Oregon. Listening attentively to the dis- 
 cussion he seated himself, shaking his head 
 grimly. 
 
 " If from Wasco is coming a brave who seeks 
 this bad man, and if this brave needs a swift 
 foot and a strong eye to help him, send to Chief 
 Talabam, for the Chief of the Yakimas has many 
 braves, and the red man likes not the bad white 
 man." 
 
 " We will," echoed the men heartily. " We'll 
 send the new Sheriff of Wasco — he's coming him- 
 self." 
 
 The eyes of the Indian glittered, and his face 
 turned to a sphinx-like quiet. They all knew 
 him and understood that something had come 
 suddenly to him. No use asking what — so they 
 waited. After a long pause Talabam arose; all 
 
46 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 the dignity of the Chief was in him ; all the grace 
 and force of his aristocratic tribe was his. 
 
 " Send the new Sheriff to the Chief of the 
 Yakimas. The new man hunter is young as the 
 half grown tree. He is quick as a flash from the 
 clouds, and strong as the great fir; and his heart 
 is the heart of a great white man. Talabam says 
 this — for Talabam has heard and knows." There 
 was a curious ring in the Indian's voice, a some- 
 thing that betokened deeper things unexplained. 
 
 " Hooray for the Chief I '^ yelled Jenks. " Say 
 Tally, you're a dead game sport, if you do look 
 like the top of a one cent piece." 
 
 The chief grinned approvingly. " Talabam 
 speaks not of one cent piece. When he speaks he 
 speaks in gold." 
 
 The men laughed. It was well known that the 
 chief w^as an Indian Croesus. As he spoke he 
 drew from his belt a handful of nuggets. 
 
 " These are Talabam's words," he said, " will 
 the white brothers play poker? '' 
 
 They played until dawn and until there was 
 nothing more to bet save their clothes and arms ; 
 then Talabam took his departure, as usual, laden 
 with coin. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE NEW BOSS. 
 
 Far out beyond the western end of the moun- 
 tain chain, on a rocky shore beside the great Pa- 
 cific, a lone mining camp lay as though it had 
 been dropped from the clouds. 
 
 Its natural environments were extremely beau- 
 tiful — blue mountains rising solemnly behind, a 
 sky of sapphire blue overhead in which the white 
 sun of midsummer burned fiercely, and at its feet 
 the cool blue waters of the broad Pacific. Beauty, 
 however, was not a matter of much considera- 
 tion to the camp. It was there for business ; and 
 to that primary cause and aim of its existence 
 it attended with the usual ugly, self-absorbed, 
 vehement manner of mining camps. 
 
 It was too small to have attractions of its 
 ov/n, or to evolve them in any great degree ; and it 
 was too far from the large centres of life to 
 make it a desirable home for pleasure seekers. 
 The men who came there came for strict busi- 
 ness, though this might happen to be of different 
 kinds, according to the nature of the men. The 
 
 47 
 
48 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 officials of the mine, the Boss and his assist- 
 ants, were always armed, by day and night; the 
 miners never; though some of them had the 
 air of men who would draw weapon on slight 
 provocation. Questions about the past were 
 usually unpopular among them, and were seldom 
 asked; it was enough that they were able to 
 work, for the Boss was the kind of man who 
 saw to it that they fulfilled that requirement. 
 
 In the usual unobtrusive way of new-comers to 
 that camp, a stranger appeared from nowhere 
 one day, and asked for work. 
 
 The Boss, who was a judge of men, measured 
 him for a second or two with a critical eye. The 
 stranger was young, but there was something in 
 his adventurous dark face, in the sleeping force 
 of his powerful body, that indicated a wide ex- 
 perience not common to youth. His somewhat 
 forced servility was of the fierce slinking kind a 
 wolf might wear when anxious for cover. 
 
 " -Fraid we ain't got nothing fancy enough fer 
 your taste, stranger,'' grimly suggested the Boss. 
 " What sorter job d'you want? " 
 
 " The one that draws the biggest pay," said the 
 other with irrepressible insolence. 
 
 " Ye don't get it. Not while I'm on the pay 
 roll." 
 
 " I'd just as soon wait. What's the job of Boss 
 to these here diggin's worth? " There was a 
 
THE 8HEEIFF OF WASCO. 49 
 
 wickedly braggart curl on the stranger's mouth, 
 and the eyes of the man in authority ran him 
 over a second time even more discerningly. The 
 Boss was a strong man himself; and he read an 
 iron character in this one who came begging for 
 work with one hand hooked in his belt just above 
 his blue gleaming weapon. Assurance and a 
 fierce air of accustomed dominance over men gave 
 the lie to his smirking humility, no less surely 
 than did his insolent tongue. But the Boss 
 needed just such fellows in his business — as allies 
 of his own authority. 
 
 " You give up yer gun when you come to work 
 in these diggin's, stranger." 
 
 ^* I do — eh? Say, you surprise me. Which 
 end '11 you take? " 
 
 The applicant for work stood with the Colt 
 poised in his hand, and his voice was a wonder 
 for its steely, treacherous smoothness. Even the 
 iron-nerved Boss inadvertently stepped back a 
 pace. 
 
 " Ye'U do/' he laughed gruffly. " I'll make you 
 foreman — an' keep yer gun, you devil. I'd 
 oughter throw you over the ledge instead. What 
 d'ye call yerself ? " 
 
 The newly-employed slipped back his weapon 
 with a hypocritical leer of gratitude and a certain 
 virile grace born of great strength. " You can 
 call me Scott. I reckon I'll remember to answer 
 
50 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 to that. An' any time you want to try throwin' 
 me over the ledge — don't you hesitate, Boss. I'm 
 as harmless as a spring chicken, I am," he re- 
 sponded with an amiable swagger. 
 
 Whatever the new foreman knew or did not 
 know concerning mining, it rapidly developed 
 that in handling men he was an expert trained by 
 some past experience. The hardiest characters 
 in the mine, drawn thither by its retirement from 
 civilization and law, flinched when his fierce eye 
 rested on them. The Boss was the only law for 
 the mining camp. But within three days the new 
 foreman had divided the prerogative with him, 
 and killed a miner on sight for a moment's in- 
 subordination. The irregularity was necessarily 
 winked at, however. The foreman was start- 
 lingly well fitted for his work, and it was mani- 
 festly the least difficult course with a man of his 
 impressive attainments. 
 
 On the fifth day he was called to a consultation 
 by his superior. 
 
 " Comp'ny's comin' : the inspector an' one o' 
 the mine owners, Mr. John Thorn from Seattle. 
 He's bringin' his daughter along. She's a real 
 refined lady, she is; the sort this crowd don't 
 see once in a thousand years, so hurry up an' 
 have everythin' slick. An' say — don't you get too 
 doggone playful with that there gun o' yours. 
 You'll make a scandal first thing, you devil," 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCG. 51 
 
 Under the able persuasion of the foreman 
 things were slick in an astonishingly short space. 
 He had his own curiosity to see the lady, a curi- 
 osity which forced immurement with his own 
 sex had keenly whetted, and sent him about his 
 duties with strong speculation in his bold eyes. 
 It happened, however, that long before she came 
 the dense fog of the Pacific coast had fallen on 
 the place, and threatened to balk him of his de- 
 sire. 
 
 Circumstances were unkind to him. The mo- 
 ment of her arrival found him detained at the 
 further end of the camp. Hearing the clatter of 
 hoofs and the stentorian voice of the Boss shout- 
 ing a hasty command, he made for the place with 
 all the speed he dare muster without attracting 
 unwelcome notice. But outside the office he 
 found only three horses, blanketed in the fog. 
 The girl had vanished within, leaving behind her 
 on the thick atmosphere the trail of a sweet fem- 
 inine presence, that floated, perfume like, over the 
 camp's crude, rough edged masculinity. Some 
 speech of her escorts' made her laugh, and the 
 silvery notes of her voice struck the auditory 
 nerve of the foreman with a light pleasant shock, 
 and traveling thence to his brain diffused an 
 agreeable glow throughout his strenuous evil 
 body. Tingling in every nerve and muscle with 
 desire to see her, he prowled about the vicinity 
 
52 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 of the building, licking his lips occasionally in 
 the excitement of delayed anticipation. 
 
 Secure in the lighted office with her father and 
 his armed employees, she knew no more of his 
 wolfish existence than of his burning curiosity 
 concerning her, and would have scorned him 
 daintily if she had. 
 
 Lunch was served to the party in the office, so 
 he had to wait a long time. But he was patient. 
 
 To take advantage of his position as foreman, 
 and manufacture an errand which would bring 
 him into her presence, was an expedient he 
 thought of and dismissed. Not from lack of au- 
 dacity, but from constitutional wariness, which 
 was one of his characteristics. Already he had 
 a half-formed purpose in mind, which sooner or 
 later he might see fit to execute, and this made it 
 advisable that he should curb his vehemence and 
 keep himself in the background. 
 
 It was this consideration which still held him 
 bound and harmless when she came out again at 
 last, her three escorts about her. In the doorway 
 she paused for a moment in an endeavor to pierce 
 the fog bank, and from w^here he stood half hid- 
 den he had a dim but most satisfying impression 
 of a rather tail girl, with wonderful blue eyes and 
 dark hair, and of a beauty that sent his v/icked 
 soul half mad. Her clear round voice flicked his 
 throbbing senses anew as she passed him without 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 53 
 
 a glance, without even knowing it was a man who 
 stood there half revealed in the murk. Again in 
 her wake floated that ineffable, subtle perfume — 
 as of a thousand woodland flowers; and as the 
 faint whiff of it stole about his nostrils and 
 reached his brain it well nigh unseated the iron 
 caution that reigned there, holding sway over all 
 his instincts. His arteries pounding tumult- 
 uously in his skull, he reached with a lightning 
 swift, stealthy motion sidewise, and stood there 
 poised, ready for instant murder, yet deterred 
 still by judgment. Then, on second thought, and 
 with a fierce gesture, he slipped back the pistol 
 and grunted in scorn of his own haste. Of what 
 use was it? There was plenty of time, — days, 
 weeks, months, if he preferred. Time was his 
 servant. Was he a half-grown puppy to swallow 
 his pleasure thus at one gulp. 
 
 He heard her laughing voice declaring as she 
 rose lio'htlv to her saddle : ''' Come father, now 
 we're off for Hilltown and our little cabin in the 
 woods. Doesn't that make you happy? Father 
 tried to leave me at home when he came here, you 
 see, but he wasn't clever enough," she explained 
 with sweet-voiced wilfulness. '" I love this beauti- 
 ful country. I love the bigness and wildness of 
 it. And as for the men — I'm sure the most of 
 them are good, are they not?" she inquired in 
 happy sincerity of the grim-faced Boss. 
 
64 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 " Sure they are. I'd like to see any of 'em mis- 
 behavin' himself in presence of a lady," said the 
 Boss with energy. 
 
 " You'd be quite safe anyway, whatever the 
 circumstances," said the charmed inspector, 
 touching his big Colt. 
 
 She laughed sweetly at them both. " Thanks ! 
 You look dreadfully fierce with those huge re- 
 volvers. You ought to see father with one." 
 
 ^' Myra!^' objected that stout, amiable gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " Oh yes, father. I've seen you, so I know all 
 about it," she protested. " I like a little bit of 
 danger. It makes things interesting — as long 
 as you escape, of course — " the pleasant sound of 
 her voice faded amid the clatter of hoof beats; 
 the three visitors rode off, and the fog-bound min- 
 ing camp seemed lonelier and drearier for the 
 silence. 
 
 Full of his dark, over-heated thoughts the fore- 
 man slunk away unnoticed to his duties. 
 
 A second visit from the inspector was not to 
 be looked for in less than a month, so that even- 
 ing the Boss prepared to relax somewhat from the 
 cares of his office. He was a stern, strong man 
 with only one weakness — whisky; which he in- 
 dulged at favorable moments such as this. To- 
 day especially, with his new foreman in charge, 
 he had no fear that discipline would suffer. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 55 
 
 He transferred his responsibilities without a 
 doubt; and so he knew nothing of it when the in- 
 spector, an over-zealous man, returned that same 
 night to camp after seeing Mr. Thorn and his 
 daughter to the woodman's cabin, some miles 
 away, where they were to spend the night. Long 
 ere the Boss awoke in the morning the inspector 
 had departed again. But the faithful foreman 
 was there, watching his awakening superior with 
 a sardonic grin, the last smirk of his counterfeit 
 humility replaced by open insolence. 
 
 " What are you doin' here? " demanded the 
 Boss sharply, as he realized it. 
 
 The foreman chuckled aloud in enjoyment. 
 
 " Say, don't you speak to me like that. I'm 
 liable to blow yer brains out. I'm waitin' fer 
 you to wake up, you drunken loafer. I'm the 
 Boss now — an' you're nobody. Read that." 
 
 " That " was a letter of dismissal from the in- 
 spector, who also informed the deposed man 
 that Mr. Scott, his efficient foreman, had been 
 promoted to the place. 
 
 The sobered Boss looked up, and beholding 
 that worthy grinning in diabolic entertainment, 
 reached with a growl of rage for his gun. The 
 same instant there was a flash, his arm dropped 
 helplessly against his side with the bone splin- 
 tered, and the Colt flew from his benumbed fin- 
 gers — but his foreman stood there unmoved. 
 
66 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 weapon in hand, his smile only a trifle uglier and 
 more diabolic. 
 
 '' You git,'^ said he without preface. — " Git ! " 
 and at the smooth, staccato terror of his voice a 
 chill fell on the old Boss. 
 
 " I'm the New Boss. I'll give you ten minutes 
 to clear out. Don't fool. I ain't usually so pa- 
 tient," he added, with a suave fiendish sort of 
 toleration. 
 
 '' You mean you'll murder me, you devil," 
 breathed the elder man. 
 
 The answer was an eloquent chuckle, as the 
 New Boss hooked one leg over a chair and sat 
 down facing his former chief across its back. His 
 swagger was that of a man who knows the win- 
 ning cards are his. 
 
 " You just keep on waitin' an' you'll get my 
 meanin'. I've given you ten minutes to get your 
 arm bandaged. — Savvy? Time's flyin'; but if 
 you ain't in a hurry I certainly ain't," said the 
 slow, wickedly musical voice. 
 
 There ensued a final deadly pause of several 
 seconds, while the deposed Boss looked in his fore- 
 man's eyes and saw the devil lurking there. He 
 perceived that there was no limit to that devil's 
 potentialities. And he noted with renewed and 
 startled appreciation the long sinewy body, 
 gracefully inert, but formidable in its dumb 
 threat of strength. He w^ondered he had not 
 
THE &UEUIFF OF WASCO. 57 
 
 foreseen this danger. Then, time being precious, 
 he went slowly out backwards, his face towards 
 the villainous figure in the chair, and the menac- 
 ing revolver point, — and sought the necessary aid 
 of the miners who had gathered without. Ten 
 minutes later he was gone; and the men, with 
 eyes of curious, awed expectancy, awaited the 
 orders of the New Boss. With them it was 
 clearly a case of " The King is dead. Long live 
 the King.'' 
 
 Since they had already been granted a taste of 
 his quality as foreman and found it none too 
 promising, they waited in proper trepidation to 
 see what manner of Boss he should prove himself 
 to be. The next few days left room for consider- 
 able speculation. To their amazement and great 
 joy he seemed lenient. So much so indeed, that 
 they doubted whether his strange gentleness, 
 which yet was not so reassuring to them as it 
 might have been, was due to a sudden weakening 
 on his part, or only to preoccupation with some 
 other affair, which was evidently engrossing his 
 attention. His interest in the mine was the 
 slightest, and he went about with an intent in- 
 trospective look on his swarthy face, apparently 
 oblivious of their doings. 
 
 The real cause of this abstracted air was that 
 before his mind's eye there flitted constantly the 
 image of a blue-eyed, dark-haired woman, as far 
 
58 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 above him as the stars of heaven. Every remem 
 bered tone of her voice, every turn of her dimlj 
 perceived beautiful body proclaimed her distance 
 from such men as he; but this was the spur that 
 pricked his fancy and drove him on to thoughts 
 and schemes all having for their ultimate object 
 possession — the possession of the apparently un- 
 attainable. 
 
 Not knowing him very thoroughly, the miners 
 after a day or two forgot their past lesson. 
 
 It was well to go carefully, however, consider- 
 ing his possibilities, so they refrained at first 
 from any open insubordination ; but there were 
 ominous and secret talks among them and much 
 hatching of plots, the aim of which was the test- 
 ing of the New Boss's character more fully. These 
 men were not of a calibre to work unless work 
 was really necessary, and he was apparently so 
 abstracted that the opinion quickly grew that he 
 might be " easy," despite his recent show of 
 strength. 
 
 A band of the most desperate characters in 
 camp burst in on him unexpectedly one evening 
 when he was standing unarmed in one of the 
 sheds. 
 
 " To blazes with workin' in these dogrotted 
 diggings," muttered the leader, truculently ad- 
 vancing. "' It's the end of the world. These here 
 hulks move eastward tomorrer — vou hear? " 
 
TEE SEE RIFF OF WASCO. 59 
 
 The New Boss suddenly found himself con- 
 fronting some half dozen or more of angry men, 
 plainly resolved on trouble. His weapon was on 
 a shelf near the door, which they had slammed 
 shut behind them; so he was hemmed in with 
 them without any advantages whatever. But if 
 there was any thought of fear in him his grim 
 physique did not betray it. 
 
 " You genteel baby, — you windy ballon," he re- 
 sponded with fierce, low-pitched eloquence " you 
 dainty quitter, you keep on workin' or yowll go 
 to blazes, an' go quick. That's what I " He stood 
 intrenched behind a small table and looked 
 darkly across it, fixing the disgruntled miner 
 with his glowering stare. 
 
 The half dozen other men lurched threaten- 
 inglv towards him. He veered round and faced 
 them. 
 
 " You dig until yer contract expires ; an' you 
 bring all the yellow you find here to this shack — 
 an' mind you, no stealing." His features set 
 rigidly as he spoke ; his eyes were cold and steely, 
 his muscles taut, ready for the first motion of 
 offense. 
 
 The leader of the men again addressed him. 
 
 " The orrub's bum. The air ain't fit to breathe. 
 The mine's the end of the earths There's no wim- 
 men here." 
 
 " The Boss smiled sarcastically. 
 
 " Y^ou're a lot of ex-convicts, every one o' you. 
 
60 TEE SHERIFF OF WA8G0. 
 
 and jou think you'd like a little vacation lolling 
 round liere while the Company feeds you. You're 
 lookin- fer entertainment from the dear ladies, 
 and maybe a quart or so of rum every day. May- 
 be I'll get a boatload of wimmen fer you from 
 Victoria or Seattle. But you'll get no rum. 
 That's too expensive. — Sav\7? And ye'll work, 
 an' the quicker the better. And say, you keep 
 this in yer minds " — ^liis voice sank to a low im- 
 pressive note sharpened with deadly menace " — 
 I'm the Boss; an' the Boss is the law, — an' the 
 only law in this land." 
 
 He moved disdainfully aw^ay as he spoke, 
 nearer to the door ; but the men, recovering, saw 
 a chance to even up. 
 
 " To hell with the law I " cried the leader, 
 throwing himself upon the tall, easy moving fig- 
 ure. The men closed round them. There was a 
 furious shock; then the leader caromed against 
 the wall, but the others crashed impetuously 
 upon the Boss. 
 
 His back against the side of the hut, his face 
 streaming with moisture, his chest heaving, his 
 eyes ablaze, he met them. His arms shot forth 
 with indescribable rapidity, his shoulders 
 hunched, his body lunged, and the mass w^as 
 broken. One man lay stunned, head downward 
 across a chair, another sprawled on the floor. 
 But the others came on. 
 
THE SHEIUFF OF WASCO. Gl 
 
 The leader again lurched forward. The Boss 
 side-stepped and bringing his fist across the 
 man's neck sent him down in a heap. Seizing a 
 chair he swung it on high and sent it whirling 
 toward the light. It missed. A miner seized the 
 lantern and placed it on the shelf out of harm's 
 way and the rush began again. 
 
 They crushed the Boss to the floor this time. 
 With blood streaming from his mouth and nose 
 he arose and brought two to the floor with him, 
 but again they overpowered him by sheer force 
 of numbers. Then they released him and laughed 
 at him. They prodded him and kicked him and 
 asked him about the law. 
 
 He slouched shamefacedly towards the door, 
 and making a sudden reach overturned a box on 
 the shelf. Next instant he stood erect and strong 
 in the doorway, his heavy Colt in his hand. 
 
 " Yes, boys," he cried, as he spat the blood 
 from his mouth, " the law is a good thing. It was 
 six to one, and ye would-be gentlemen of leisure 
 done it beautifully. Now, by hell, it's six to six; 
 just enough to go round. 
 
 A deafening crash rent the sodden air and the 
 leader fell dead across the table. Again came the 
 flash, and the roar. Again and again. 
 
 Two of the miners had escaped by the window 
 meanwhile. The Boss, reloading his weapon, 
 
62 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 sauntered outside, leaving the dead and the 
 wounded within. He stood unconcernedly to 
 meet the rush of the miners outflowing from the 
 darkening surroundings. 
 
 They gathered around him angrily but awe- 
 struck. 
 
 " A little insubordination, gentlemen," he an- 
 nounced with a contemptuous grin. " You can 
 bury the four later on together. The first off 
 will have to wait for the other three — they ain't 
 all ready yet. x\n' remember, you dogs, it was 
 six to one at first. But the law wins; an' I'm 
 the law in this here lone an' desolate camp. Back 
 to the ^ burrows.' " 
 
 Two men stepped out at his command to await 
 the deaths within the hut. The others turned 
 and disappeared whence they had come. 
 
 Then the New Boss smiled grimly once more, 
 and lighted a foul-smelling cigar which he took 
 from his trousers' pocket. 
 
 ^^ Damn it ! " he exclaimed sibilantly between 
 his teeth. " Damn it ; I love it. It's so easy to 
 command these devils. But it takes an ex-convict 
 to do it. They'll bring the gold in now all right," 
 he chuckled to himself. " Gold— that's what I 
 need. I'll take a trip termorrow an' see the 
 sights. I'll make a flyin' visit over to the locality 
 o' that place, Hilltown. I've got that Thorn 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 63 
 
 beauty on my mind — an^ got her bad. Say Scott 
 — otherwise Hardeman of Oregon — there ain't 
 no Sheriffs worryin' you up here; you'll have the 
 time of yer life, you will." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MR. THORN^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 A FEW miles eastward of the patrolmen's camp 
 and higher in the foothills was the picturesque, 
 primitive woodland village of Hilltown. The 
 houses were an aggregation of mere log cabins, 
 enlarged and improved beyond the ordinary, laid 
 out in a wide clearing, and facing the rising sun. 
 
 The houses were perhaps two score in number, 
 and in their midst was one more ornamental and 
 spacious than its neighbors. It was the town 
 hall and general meeting place, and on Sundays 
 served as a church. Women and children were 
 the chief inhabitants of Hilltown in the day time; 
 but at dusk the men returned from the forests 
 and the farm lands below in the valleys, and 
 gave additional life to the place. 
 
 Hilltown was one of the few settlements that 
 dotted the foothills of the great Olympics. Here 
 and there were others scattered along the trail 
 — named by ambitious courtesy a road — that 
 wound uphill and down dale, and further west 
 skirted the shore below the clearing of the pa- 
 
 64 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WAjSCO. 65 
 
 trolmen's camp. This road was a highway to- 
 wards the western end of the range, and was 
 used considerably by the lumbermen and settlers 
 thereabouts. 
 
 Hilltown was the popular resort for the patrol- 
 men when off duty, and when iron circumstances 
 prevented their getting across the water to 
 Seattle. Recently there were still others who 
 found it popular. Situated as it was amid such 
 magnificent surroundings of dense forests and 
 rolling hills, it had attracted the eyes of several 
 w^ealthy citizens from the hustling city across the 
 inlet. These had built pretentious log cabins, and 
 with their families made their summer home for 
 a few weeks each year in the camp at the foot of 
 the mountains. 
 
 Thus it came about that in one of the largest 
 and most modern of these cabins there sojourned 
 Mr. John Thorn, one of Seattle's wealthiest citi- 
 zens, and his family, consisting in some degree of 
 himself, but most conspicuously of his daughter, 
 that blue-eyed, dark-haired maiden who had ac- 
 companied him, half against his parental will 
 and judgment, on his trip to the mining camp of 
 the Pacific coast. 
 
 Her offense was really a pardonable one how- 
 ever, and it stood in daily danger of being re- 
 peated, for the father and daughter were boon 
 companions. This was their summer holiday, 
 
66 THE SHERIFF OF ^YASCO. 
 
 and they might be seen roaming the forests and 
 the foothills together any day, blissfully content 
 with one another's society. Back in the city, the 
 girl, a rich man^s daughter, as well as lovely and 
 winsome in herself, had as many admirers as was 
 advisable for one young lady. None of them 
 was indispensable to Myra's happiness, however. 
 Her father, she laughingly declared, was the only 
 beau who appealed to her, and the only one who 
 dared give her so much trouble watching his 
 movements lest he start off on one of his many 
 expeditions without her. 
 
 On his part Mr. Thorn was devotedly content. 
 His daughter was all he had in the world. Con- 
 siderations of beaux and marriage opened up be- 
 fore the old gentleman a prospect of such great 
 loneliness that he willingly postponed them; al- 
 though he had ideas of his own on the subject, 
 strong ones, too, in which his daughter did not 
 participate. Every woodman and patrolman 
 about Hilltown knew the pair, and Myra with 
 her smiling woman's eyes and countless feminine 
 graces dear to the heart of man, was the hopeless 
 admiration of all those staunch masculine bosoms 
 in the camp of Commander Butts. 
 
 John Thorn was fifty, stout and good-natured, 
 but none too stout or wealthy to swing along a 
 few miles on the trail with a woodman or a 
 patrolman for a companion. He knew how to 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 67 
 
 meet these rough-bodied, rough-mannered, good 
 hearted men; alid they looked upon him with re- 
 spect and friendship, and were proud of his 
 wealth and his genuine democratic tendencies. 
 And they were proud of him because he was the 
 father of the finest girl in the country, as they 
 described her. 
 
 Two weeks after the captain's experience with 
 the outlaw Hardeman, and after all the talk con- 
 cerning his doings and his whereabouts had died 
 away in Hilltown and the neighboring settle- 
 ments, Mr. John Thorn desired to take another 
 journey, this time in connection with other min- 
 ing properties of his at a distance; and he pre- 
 ferred for some good reason of his own to go 
 alone. 
 
 Early morning found him seated on a large flat 
 rock near the highway, ready to signal the stage, 
 which could be heard rumbling from afar in the 
 clear mountain air. Beneath his coat swung the 
 ever-present revolver, the constant companion of 
 every man in that rough primitive country. Sud- 
 denly he rose at the call of a silvery feminine 
 voice and smiled half guiltily as he beheld his 
 daughter coming rapidly down the trail from the 
 settlement, picking her way gracefully and skill- 
 fuUv between boulders and over tree trunks. On 
 her arm swung a jacket to match the dark walk- 
 ins: skirt of heavv arav material, trimmed with 
 
t)« THE SHERIFF OF WASCO 
 
 unpretentious braid. A beautiful girl, and she 
 ruled the old gentleman somewhat mercilessly 
 but always in such a fashion as kept him content 
 and delighted under her tender domineering. 
 
 " Father I caught you — you old fox. You 
 thought you'd get away without my knowing it, 
 didn't you now? " she exclaimed laughingly as 
 she reached him, and seating herself on the rock, 
 looked beamingly at him. 
 
 " I had a sneaking suspicion I might," he an- 
 swered rather shamefacedly, " but I couldn't, evi- 
 dently." 
 
 " 'Course you couldn't. I'm going ! " 
 
 " Going, — where? " 
 
 " Where you're going, wherever that is. You 
 don't suppose for a moment I'm going to stay 
 here all day alone, do you, father? " 
 
 He bit his lip. " You can't go. I'm going 
 after a mine, Myra. I've got to hustle and do 
 strenuous things in the next two days. I want to 
 come back bj^ the return stage." 
 
 " That'll suit me," she laughed. " I'll chaperon 
 you. There is a highwayman somewhere around, 
 and he might get you if you went alone." 
 
 " Talk sense, Myra," said her parent. " Here 
 comes the stage. Good-bye, darling," and he 
 stooped to kiss her. 
 
 But she laughingly slid out of his reach, ad- 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 69 
 
 justing her hat which had become loosened in her 
 chase to overtake him. 
 
 <' No ' good-bye, darling,' for me, Pop — I'm go- 
 ing,'' and her round chin rose smilingly in air, 
 and he knew he was beaten. 
 
 '^ Got to call up my authority, or I can't do a 
 thing with her," mused Mr. John Thorn. He 
 attempted to look sour; but was unsuccessful. 
 Then he bit off the end of a cigar, and absent- 
 mindedly flung the cigar away in his dilemma. 
 
 " My, but you're rattled," said the girl soberly. 
 " Father," she wheedled sweetly, ^^ don't be stub- 
 born. How would you feel if I sneaked off and 
 deserted you in this lonesome place for half a 
 week? You wouldn't like it specially well. — Ah, 
 here's the stage." 
 
 Obediently Mr. Thorn got into the vehicle after 
 his daughter. They were alone in it, and, light- 
 ing a cigar properly this time, he observed her 
 for a moment and remarked seriously: 
 
 '' You can go as far as Butts' camp and come 
 back to-night on the regular down stage. You've 
 got to do as I tell you this time, Myra." 
 
 The lady tapped her heel against the floor and 
 thought it over for a minute. Her father was 
 really concerned, it appeared, so she dutifully 
 capitulated. 
 
 '^ All right, father. It's going to be lonesome, 
 but I'll do any little thing like that for you. 
 
70 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 But/' and here she fired a gun for another battle, 
 which was a standing one — " I can't oblige you in 
 that other business. I won't marry the man of 
 your choice, I give you advance notice. He won't 
 suit me, I know." 
 
 Mr. Thorn winced. The shot was w^ell di- 
 rected. There was a certain rich and influential 
 business man at home who had been paying Myra 
 some attention. Although she cared not the snap 
 of a twig for the gentleman as a husband, her 
 father had favored him somewhat mildly, hoping 
 for a change of heart in his daughter. But he 
 would not have pushed her for the world. Now 
 he thought for several minutes, and then looked 
 lovingly at her. 
 
 " When you get married, marry any straight 
 gentleman you want; but don't leave me alone 
 in my old age, Myra. Give me a bunk and a 
 cosy chair; but don't give me the shake — that's 
 all." 
 
 She flung herself upon his shoulders and kissed 
 him, the tears standing in her eyes. 
 
 '^ You're a goose. Why, when I marry I'll 
 choose a European nobleman with a title as long 
 as a fence rail, an aristocratic nose and an empty 
 pocket-book — and we'll live off your money. And 
 get a divorce some day." 
 
 Her absurdity and her affection lured him back 
 to his wonted gayety. Laughing, and with her 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, Tl 
 
 head on his shoulder, they began to talk of the 
 beauties of a nearby cascade dashing down to the 
 straits from the high regions above. 
 
 " Great, isn't it, Myra? And to think a beauti- 
 ful country like this is so little known," he ex- 
 claimed in ecstacy. 
 
 "It's lovely; lovely," she echoed. "Only it's 
 going to be a wee bit lonely till you come back, 
 Pop. Don't let anything happen to you," and 
 thus they confabbed until the stage stopped at a 
 settler's cabin near the camp and Myra alighted 
 to make her headquarters with the good-natured 
 woodman's wife until the evening stage would 
 take her back to Hilltown. 
 
 ^' So long, father," she cried, as she waved her 
 hand and threw a kiss at Mr. John Thorn in the 
 coach. He returned the salutation immediately, 
 and lying back against the forward corner of the 
 seat, soliloquized : " If some fellow doesn't fall 
 in love with that girl of mine pretty soon, I'll 
 chew my hat. She's the limit, even if I do say 
 it ; she's the absolute image of her dear mother." 
 
 That afternoon Captain Butts was drowsily 
 meditating on a log near the culinary quarters, 
 w^herein Yang Foo w^as chanting unintelligible 
 Chinese, when he heard a voice. 
 
 " Goodness, is everybody on this earth asleep? 
 And we came up to be amused." Swinging round 
 he beheld at the edge of the clearing the laughing 
 
72 THE SHERIi^F OF WASCO. 
 
 critic, with two little children from the cabin just 
 below. 
 
 " Great Scott, I wasn't asleep," said the husky 
 captain, springing up. He shouted so loudly to 
 Yang Foo to bring a chair for the visitor that the 
 hurrying Celestial tripped up his friend Yang 
 Ko, the other cook, in his excitement. Ko care- 
 lessly let the end of his queue fall into the open 
 stove and went out of the door with a bound, the 
 knot in his pig tail aflame and a couple of hounds 
 after him. 
 
 " Gracious — the poor man," cried Myra uncer- 
 tainly. 
 
 Butts grabbed the cook by the back of the 
 neck and smothered the sizzling appendage. 
 Then he apologetically explained to Miss Myra 
 that two Chinese cooks in one camp were two 
 too many ; and the pair of Celestials trotted back 
 to the kitchen, highly indignant, and in reprisal 
 burned the camp's dinner. 
 
 " Glad to see you, Miss Thorn," said the cap- 
 tain earnestly if belatedly. "This camp cer- 
 tainly does appreciate the honor. Those men of 
 niine — " but they cut him short by the haste with 
 which they came to speak for themselves. 
 
 " Fancy Chinamen as alarm clocks," laughed 
 Myra slyly, " and they always seemed so quiet 
 and unobtrusive too." 
 
 " That there chair," said Jenks of Oregon in- 
 
TUE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 73 
 
 dignantly, " ain't the sort this camp oughter offer 
 a lady to set on. Jones, where's that big bear- 
 skin o' yours you never could get no right use 
 fer? Waitin' to be asked fer it, are you? " And 
 they throned Myra, protesting, blushing and 
 flattered, on the great bear-skin, and pressed into 
 service the brand-new dipper to fetch her water 
 from the spring. 
 
 Their eager admiration testified whether or no 
 they found her charming as she sat there with 
 the sunlight on her fair, piquant face, the two 
 little ones beside her solemnly eyeing the ring of 
 stalwart, handsomely muscular fellows, each anx- 
 ious to get the princess' eye and to be more gal- 
 lant than his neighbor. 
 
 " Father's gone off prospecting, and left me 
 at home," she said. '' Guess he was just afraid. 
 That outlaw has demoralized all the neighbor- 
 hood." 
 
 ^^ Pshaw— that outlaw? He's gone. He's 
 eloped with himself. Found he'd made a mistake 
 in his locality. Say, you don't suppose he'd want 
 to stay round here after he'd seen us, do you?" 
 they inquired joyfully. 
 
 ^•Well no, I really shouldn't think so," she 
 agreed, '^ I'm sure he wouldn't if he met your 
 Chinamen." 
 
 They thumped each other in their approval of 
 
74 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 her. " Dern fool Chink ; we'll cut his pig-tail 
 off," they threatened delighted. "' Oughtn't to 
 have a pig-tail if he can't keep it outer mischief." 
 
 ^- It's funny about that outlaw too," they said, 
 coming back to the subject. " Here's Jenks tellin' 
 how there's a fire-eatin' Sheriff from Wasco 
 county campin' on his trail, an' we ain't seen 
 either o' them." 
 
 '^Well, I'm sure we don't want to," said the 
 girl with a mock shudder, " at least not unless 
 we meet them both together." 
 
 " Well now, that's what we're liable to, ac- 
 cordin' to Jenks. He thinks his Sheriff is just 
 the salt o' the earth." 
 
 "Does he?" she said interested. "Who is 
 your Sheriff, Mr. Jenks? " and the patrolman, 
 pleased because the princess' blue eyes were bent 
 on him, told her some things that he knew and 
 very much more that his admiration imagined 
 concerning the Sheriff of Wasco. 
 
 " Mercy," she laughed, " I'm not sure but I'd 
 rather meet Mr. Hardeman himself than your 
 Sheriff. I'm afraid of him already." But some- 
 where at the back of her eyes the spirit of con- 
 quest danced as she looked at the big patrol- 
 man and listened to his defense. 
 
 " Sho' ! He wouldn't harm a hair of your 
 head. He's a gentleman. He was born an' bred 
 in the West, an' knows how to treat a lady. But 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 75 
 
 he sure has no use for that outlaw Hardeman/' 
 said Mr. Jenks eagerly. 
 
 Miss Thorn shrugged her pretty shoulders. 
 " We'll see. Captain Butts and his camp cer- 
 tainly know how to treat a Lady at least," and her 
 smiling lips flattered every man of them in turn, 
 " I'll send the Sheriff to them if he needs in- 
 structing." 
 
 And yet somehow it seemed as though she 
 would fain have the teaching of that object les- 
 son herself to the redoubtable Sheriff. 
 
 "Come, children, we must run home. There's 
 a fierce Wasco gentleman in the woods and he 
 might get us, for we haven't any protectors," she 
 cried laughing, sure in her heart they w^ere all 
 her protectors. 
 
 As she went away down the sunlit trail with 
 three big patrolmen to guard her against outlaws 
 and sheriffs, every man remaining in that camp 
 followed her with his eyes and his heart. Jenks 
 mournfully seized the new dipper and poured 
 himself a big dose of water. 
 
 " She's a lady," he announced sentimentally, 
 "and I guess the Sheriff is able to paddle his 
 ow^n canoe." And they drank in turn to the senti- 
 ment, partly because it was the new dipper and 
 she had drunk from it. 
 
 The sun was just blanketed behind the range 
 and the hush of darkness was settling upon the 
 
76 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 foothills as Myra entered the stage for the return 
 journey to Hilltown. Several other passengers 
 were aboard, woodmen and one or two women, 
 and the stage halted frequently in the first mile 
 or two to discharge them one after another. 
 
 A mile from the great flat stone which marked 
 the trail to Hilltown where Myra and her father 
 had that morning awaited the stage, they entered 
 the deep gloom of a fir forest. The great trunks 
 on either side of the road were scarce visible as 
 the driver cracked his whip over the cantering 
 horses and hastened the speed. Within the coach 
 a solitary oil lamp lighted the face of Myra, and 
 those of the man and his wife who were now her 
 sole companions. 
 
 Suddenly, though there was no grade at that 
 spot to account for it, they felt the grinding 
 shock of the brakes. Next moment the driver de- 
 livered a solitary " Damn ! " uttered beneath his 
 breath, and the coach slowed to a standstill. 
 
 The woodman, alarmed, leaped out, as did 
 his wife and Myra, and beheld the driver erect 
 with the reins fallen before him and hands high 
 in air. 
 
 All three of the passengers knew on the in- 
 stant what had occurred. The woodman^s hand 
 descended like a flash to his gun. 
 
 " Drop it ! — Hands up, everybody," came in a 
 curiously sharp whiplike voice from a tall indis- 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 77 
 
 tinct figure not fifteen feet away; and the grim 
 mouth of a Colt pointed menacingly first at the 
 driver and then at the woodman. 
 
 It was all so quietly done, so much like an or- 
 dinary stop, that Myra could scarce believe the 
 import of it. There was none of the theatric play 
 she had imagined under the circumstances ; every- 
 thing was so orderly, that she failed to fully ap- 
 preciate the danger. Not so the woodman, he 
 realized in an instant. There was no money 
 aboard the stage. Everyone knew that. It was 
 the girl Myra that was wanted. With him it 
 was now or never, and quick as thought up came 
 his arm with the weapon in it. Scarce had it 
 moved before there was a report and the man 
 sank to the ground, his revolver dropping away 
 from him, his shoulder pierced by the outlaw's 
 bullet. 
 
 His wife stooped instinctively to aid him, and 
 then Myra, still half dazed, realized that stage 
 and horses were disappearing down the road on a 
 wild pell-mell rush, with the driver shouting and 
 making desperate attempts to reach his lost 
 reins. 
 
 The light from the coach disappeared and left 
 them in deep gloom. Instinctively she moved to 
 pick up the woodman's revolver and the next mo- 
 ment she felt her wrists in a firm powerful grip. 
 She heard something click, and then — horror in- 
 
78 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 credible — she was handcuffed. She shrieked in 
 dismay; but a hand roughly stuffed something 
 in her mouth and she was swung from the ground 
 with sudden and irresistible power. Next in- 
 stant she felt her bosom against the heaving 
 breast of the man and his arms encircling her 
 body; then came a swift upward rush through 
 thick dank woods; she heard a despairing shriek 
 from the woman on the highway. A twig flew 
 into her face, and another. She struggled, but 
 those arms tightened around her, and the pace 
 only quickened. 
 
 She felt the man's hot breath against her fore- 
 head and in the gloom she saw that his face was 
 masked; and the tightening of the muscles of 
 steel around her waist and her limbs, and the 
 pressure of his powerful chest against her well 
 nigh smothered her. 
 
 Presently, however, the pressure relaxed as her 
 bearer placed her upon the ground. She was 
 dimly conscious that the stars beyond the tree- 
 tops were just appearing, and wondered if the 
 sun had yet set on old Mount Ranier, far away to 
 the south. 
 
 Once more she knew she was being lifted, that 
 the terrible, remorseless grip was closing around 
 her, tighter than ever. She was going up, up, into 
 the heart of the Olympics, and slowly the awful 
 horror of it all came to her — the present — the 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 79 
 
 future. She writhed in a final desperate struggle, 
 only to be carried closer and more firmly. She 
 tried to cry out, but only sobbed under the gag 
 in her mouth; then in her pitiful extremity she 
 started to pray silently. But on a sudden the 
 half-seen woodland sky became blurred, a roaring 
 sound churned in her ears, and she mercifully 
 lost consciousness. 
 
 A little while later she awakened to the flash- 
 ing of a light in her eyes. The desperado had 
 laid her on the ground beside a fallen tree, 
 whether in mercy to her or because he was tired 
 she could not tell. Between her thick, dark, half- 
 opened eyelashes, she saw him bend over her with 
 a lighted match, alarm in his face. 
 
 " Fainted," he muttered, as he extinguished the 
 light and listened for any sound from behind. 
 There was none. The two were high in the foot- 
 hills now and far from the road. The danger of 
 detection was indeed remote. He groped in the 
 deep gloom and, lifting her prostrate figure 
 slightly, adjusted it better to its leafy bed. He 
 removed the gag from her mouth, and then dis- 
 covered that she was conscious. 
 
 " Scream if you want to," he said. " It won't 
 be of any use though. Better keep your strength. 
 We've got a long climb yet." 
 
 She closed her eyes. His voice was quiet and 
 it carried no threat; there was a peculiar, almost 
 
80 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 a melodious drawl to it, and she knew at once 
 from what she had heard that she was in the 
 hands of the dangerous outlaw Hardeman. 
 
 What could she do? With despairing presence 
 of mind she decided to appear weaker than she 
 really was; to await her opportunity to escape. 
 The moon, which was now at its full, was begin- 
 ning to cast its beams through the firs. She could 
 see quite distinctly that they were some way be- 
 low the entrance of a narrow pass that cut up- 
 ward and around the highest foothill, leading 
 between two overshadowing granite peaks to the 
 left. He was taking her into the unknown re- 
 gions; the regions where the Pacific winds 
 whirled past the giants of the range on the way 
 east; the land which had never been visited even 
 by a stray prospector; which was the most in- 
 accessible, the roughest, the most lonesome imag- 
 inable. 
 
 She thought ; and as she thought, once more her 
 mind darkened with fear. When he had her 
 there, when she was all alone with him, what 
 would happen then? And how long would she 
 live to know of it? 
 
 It was a great plateau beyond and behind 
 those peaks, known to exist because it could be 
 seen from the nearby summits, but unvisited in 
 the memory of any man in these parts, unless 
 the Indians. She knew the pass led to that mys- 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 81 
 
 terious region, for she had heard the stately 
 Talabam, chief of the Yakimas, tell of it. ' The 
 Land of the Silent Wind — beyond the pass 
 named the Devil's Walk '—was the Indian's de- 
 scription of it. This frowning pass above her 
 was the ' Devil's Walk.' 
 
 Summoning her courage she rolled suddenly 
 away from her captor and leaped to her feet 
 unsteadily; and lifting her handcuffed wrists be- 
 fore her made a motion of offense. 
 
 He merely laughed. 
 
 '^ Oh, pshaw, what's the use? I've certainly 
 no intention of harming you. Sit down and be 
 sensible; don't overtax yourself or you'll faint 
 again.*' 
 
 He spoke in that calm soft voice of his and sat 
 down himself, ignoring the menacing handcuffs 
 lifted to strike him. '' Couldn't hurt me if you 
 tried," he laughed. 
 
 ''Take off these — take them off!" she cried 
 angrily and defiantly. 
 
 He was silent a moment, as though considering 
 the matter. '' I will some day — when you say 
 please. But not now," he said, with an unpleas- 
 ant smile on his mouth. 
 
 '' Some day I " She sank to the tree-trunk and 
 buried her face in her hands, the awful horror 
 of her position descending on her heart like lead. 
 She was to be a prisoner for days. This was 
 
82 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 only the beginning — the beginning of what? She 
 must escape; but howf 
 
 She might make a rush now, this moment, 
 and succeed in eluding him, but what could she 
 do against the wild dangers of these deep gloomy 
 forests — the bears for instance — she unarmed 
 and bound? Suppose she escaped for a while! 
 Strong and fleet as he was, how long could she ex- 
 pect to elude him? 
 
 It was one thing to rush through the forests, 
 over obstructions, down streams and along dan- 
 gerous paths, when the free use of one's limbs 
 was given; but she was handcuffed. She saw 
 the hopeless folly of any attempt at escape now. 
 No ; she must wait. 
 
 Evidently he divined her thoughts. " No use, 
 you see! Escape ain't possible. But you'll be 
 well cared for; you needn't have the slightest 
 fear of yours truly," he said with his intoler- 
 able smile. 
 
 Was he mocking her? or was he speaking the 
 truth? Could it be that she was safe from bodily 
 harm with him? She had heard many of the 
 stories of his career told openly by the people 
 of Hilltown ; others she had heard vaguely. But 
 she was quick to remember those hints of his 
 treatment of women which seemed to lie deep in 
 every narration of his exploits. 
 
 " I haven't the slightest fear of you person- 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 83 
 
 ally," she answered with an assumption of cour- 
 age. " You are altogether too clever to jeopar- 
 dize your neck. You couldn't touch me against 
 mv will and expect to escape the noose, or — or — 
 Tou see the patrolmen will come. Every man in 
 the 01ymj)ics will — " she almost sobbed in the 
 strength of her confidence in them. 
 
 He seized her arm clumsily and thrust his face 
 with evil admiration close to hers. 
 
 "You're risfht; thev surelv will — but I onuess 
 it's o'oin' to be worth it. Glad vou ain't afraid o' 
 me. Say now, but I wouldn't hurt you — not fer 
 all the gold in the State o' Washington. Come," 
 and he half led, half dragged her a step or two 
 forward, angrily resisting. 
 
 " I will not go," she flashed forth. " Don't 
 you presume to touch me, or to lay a finger on 
 me, sir," and her chin shot up, and she stamped 
 her foot, lovely in her feeble defiance. But she 
 had forgotten that this was no vassal, no pre- 
 sumptuous, good-natured admirer. 
 
 The outlaw paused for a moment, regarding 
 her. Then he laughed, and in the coarse brutality 
 of the sound she learned her error. 
 
 " You're too confounded sassy, my lady. 
 You'll learn better by and by. Shucks fer your 
 patrolmen. Shucks fer you," and with a swift 
 lunge he caught her fiercely and swept her off the 
 ground, and the next moment she was being borne 
 
84 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 along, faint with terror and half strangled, in 
 his muscular embrace as before. 
 
 Compared with this, all his past roughness had 
 been the merest gentleness. His square wicked 
 jaw was shut hard; and sinister cruelty was 
 stamped on every line of his lower face, which 
 alone was visible to her. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN THE SILENT LAND. 
 
 A FEW moments' more of this journey brought 
 fear to Myra's heart far beyond any she had 
 felt before. Until now the ruffian had been 
 fairly kind. But that was gone. He was trans- 
 formed. This animal, muttering vile curses be- 
 tween his clenched teeth, whose arms gripped 
 her helpless, though furiously resisting body 
 with the vicious license of unbridled anger, was 
 a mere human beast, obeying his primordial hu- 
 man instinct — conquest of woman. A bear lead- 
 ing his mate to his den on the mountain side 
 was millenniums in advance of him. Myra in her 
 stupor of terror recognized the devil she had 
 roused, and the instinct of the woman in her 
 knew instantly she must do something to pla- 
 cate him. She had taken the wrong way. In 
 her desperate plight it would be better to pro- 
 pitiate him, to appear less belligerent, less hor- 
 ror-stricken at his loathsome passion than she 
 felt. 
 
 " You hurt me. Let me down and I'll walk.'- 
 
 85 
 
86 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 KotwitlistandiDg that lier face was deathly white, 
 her voice sounded sweet and womanly in his 
 ears, as she had intended. 
 
 He hesitated; then released her, leering upon 
 her his evident willingness to be conciliated. 
 Loosed from his hot, vile grasp she gasped in 
 spite of herself. 
 
 " Walk then," he breathed heavily, " and when 
 you're tired, mind you say so. Don'^t try any 
 damned woman's conniptions with me. I never 
 stand fer them." 
 
 She was heartily glad to be alive by this time. 
 She thrust back her anger, her terrified, helpless, 
 insulted tears, and walked rapidly by his side, as 
 he half led, half pulled her along, one of his 
 rough hands grasping her securely meanwhile. 
 
 They were headed for the pass, though it was 
 still miles away, and the wind from the greatest 
 of oceans was striking them full in the face. Her 
 hair had fallen loose down her back, and her 
 breath was coming in gasps from distress and 
 the violent exercise. Such sheer terror was upon 
 her that she could not think connectedly. Her 
 mind was benumbed, yet fearfully alive — alive 
 to the end of this journey. 
 
 Full night had come, but the outlaw^ made no 
 change in his furious haste. It was a strange 
 country to Myra. Nature here was stern and 
 gloomy; fearful blackness lurked between the 
 
THE SHERIFF OF ^VASCO, 87 
 
 scattered ghostly pines; and great boulders and 
 dim ragged knolls loomed forbiddingly under the 
 faint sky. Every rock and stone, every clump 
 of sentinel trees, seemed in league with the evil 
 of the place, and to deny her unuttered appeals 
 for aid. 
 
 But nature had produced no coward when she 
 made Myra. 
 
 Gradually her mind cleared, and she perceived 
 that his intent to take her where distance meant 
 safety to himself, meant also respite to her — 
 temporary at least — even with certain doom 
 at the end; and though she knevv' the men of 
 the patrol would soon be out on the trail, hot 
 and vengeful, knew too that they could never 
 hope to overtake her in time — she did not falter. 
 Her only hope lay in herself. 
 
 She dared not think now of father or friends. 
 All her thoughts vrere centered on this stalwart 
 ruffian whose grasp painfully crushed her wrist, 
 and dragged her, breathless and stumbling, be- 
 side him. How could she circumvent him? 
 
 She must rally her woman's resources; she 
 must keep him off, must conciliate him until 
 some opportunity for freedom offered. If she 
 could not do this — if she could not fight with wo- 
 man's wit — if she could not find his weaker side, 
 she was lost. Her lot would be worse than that 
 of a captive slave in the days of Roman Con- 
 
88 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 quest. Young and innocent of the darker side 
 of life, she knew the stories of history. She 
 knew by instinct of her sex that she was face to 
 face with the raw devil still lurking in man be- 
 hind the veneer of centuries of civilization. 
 
 So summoning her courage she spoke to him 
 again, striving to hide her fear, and begged him 
 softlv not to hurt her, and thanked him half 
 whispering when he lessened his pull on her 
 wrists. Spent and panting, she dared not hang 
 back lest he should again attempt to carry her. 
 He was tireless. He had the strength of a grizzly 
 bear. 
 
 At last when it seemed that her heart must 
 burst with exertion, she stumbled and fell heavily 
 on a loose stone. Some feeling of pity stirred 
 him perhaps, as he raised her, and perceived her 
 exhausted state. With a queer, unexpected gen- 
 tleness he seated her of his own accord on a 
 boulder. 
 
 " Played out, and too doggoned proud to say 
 so, ain't you? Here, rest, and remember I ain't 
 goin' to kill you." 
 
 He seemed no longer angry. The line of his 
 mouth while harsh and grim had softened from 
 its late look of cruelty. His voice was almost 
 kind. From the moment she had tried timidly 
 to thank him for relaxing his grasp of her aching 
 wrists his manner had changed and grown grad- 
 
Tui^ SHEEIFF OF WASCO. 89 
 
 ually softer and less peremptory. It almost 
 seemed that the normal feeling of civilized man 
 — to protect and help the woman — had risen in 
 him and was swaying his actions toward her. 
 
 '' Where are we going? Where are you taking 
 me? I've done vou no harm," she cried to him 
 beseechingly. Her voice shook in spite of her 
 bravery; the thrill of fear and lonesomeness was 
 in it. 
 
 He answered in a melodious drawl, half mock- 
 ing yet not unkind, which might have been at- 
 tractive in any other man : 
 
 '' We're going where no white man but me has 
 trodden before — the land of the Silent Wind. 
 Ever hear of that place? To-morrow we'll be 
 through the pass. You'll be Queen of the coun- 
 try, and I — well, I'll be your Prince Charming 
 and dance to your bidding." 
 
 She was braver than she ever thought slie 
 could be under such circumstances. Much as sbe 
 had heard of the personality of this great out- 
 law, she was unprepared for such a change in 
 him ; so, gathering her courage again, she an- 
 swered : 
 
 "^ Suppose that I don't want you to dance my 
 bidding? Supposing Td very much prefer to 
 remain alone? " 
 
 " Then you shall. But to be alone will be 
 worse than to be in my company. There are 
 
90 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 things' worse than being queen to a solitary sub- 
 ject, even an outlaw. And one of those thmgs is 
 to be a queen alone in the place we're going to, 
 which is really, Miss Thorn, the land where even 
 the wind makes no noise. It is a great region of 
 silence. And silence is devilish lonesome." 
 
 She shuddered, but offered no further resist- 
 ance; and again he led her forward toward the 
 fateful pass. The journey w^as long, and broken 
 often by minutes w^hen he insisted upon her 
 resting. He brought her water and gave her 
 bread from his pockets, even apologizing for the 
 poor quality of the food. And so at last the 
 dawn broke upon them. 
 
 Early evening of that day had come ere they 
 reached the top of the pass. Then they looked 
 down upon a land of huge trees and many boul- 
 ders, and mile upon mile of high plain, dotted 
 here and there with sudden abrupt risings in the 
 form of small, flat-topped hills with precipitous 
 sides — like the mesas of the far South. 
 
 She must have fainted from sheer exhaustion, 
 or fallen asleep at last; for she knew nothing 
 more until she found herself lying upon a great 
 bear-skin at the mouth of a cave. She glanced 
 around and knew that she was on one of the 
 flat-topped elevations, for she could see the plain 
 a hundred feet below, the wooded land in the dis- 
 tance, with the Olympics towering behind, the 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 91 
 
 sun of another day just topping their crests. 
 Afar off to the west she perceived a great body 
 of water. The breeze that caused no sound on 
 the barren plain below came salt-laden from the 
 Pacific. She arose weakly, and an intense relief 
 seized her as she did so — for there at her feet 
 were the handcuffs. She was alone on the mesa, 
 and the terrors past were momentarily lost in the 
 joy of being limb free, of once more being her 
 own physical self. 
 
 Food and water had been placed at the mouth 
 of the cave. She was nearly famished; and so, 
 gathering hope from this kindness, and still more 
 from the outlaw's absence, she ate the food and 
 set about exploring her environments. 
 
 It was indeed a lonely locality. Surrounding 
 the cave were a number of boulders rearing their 
 flat heads' high in air, but on this mesa there 
 was nothing else. Xot only was she alone there, 
 but she could not fail to notice the great stillness 
 of the whole surrounding land. 
 
 At first it was no hardship. To be alone, freed 
 from her captor's presence, was relief. She 
 quickly discovered that the plains below could 
 be reached only by a perilous descent on the 
 mesa's southern side. Up this side she had been 
 borne. Stooping over, she could discern heavy 
 footprints in the treacherous earth. For a wo- 
 man to escape that way would be a most diffi- 
 
92 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 cult undertaking ; but nevertheless she studied it 
 carefully, for she might need to take a desperate 
 chance before long. 
 
 The day seemed never to end. The cloudless 
 sky and the utter loneliness palled upon her. 
 Her mental distress grew acute. At times her 
 thoughts came feverishly fast; at other times she 
 had no thoughts whatever, but wandered aim- 
 lessly about, scarcely conscious of what she was 
 doinsr. Towards sunset she missed the sounds of 
 animal life she was used to, the cheerful chirping 
 of birds, the mooing of kine, so dear to her over 
 the range in Hilltown. She became acutely 
 pained by the noise of her own footsteps; the 
 rustle of her skirts seemed weird and without 
 cause. She spoke aloud in her distress, but her 
 voice came back to her in a low, mocking echo 
 from around the huge boulders. The sun dip- 
 ping beneath the Pacific flared against the Olym- 
 pics and dazzled her sight as she looked towards 
 the far distant pass, hoping vainly that she 
 might see human forms descending to her aid. 
 Surely Captain Butts and his men were already 
 on her trail ! She paused to think. Surely they 
 were searching for her, but — would they ever 
 think of this place? Why should they? None 
 of them knew it save in a legendary way. No, 
 they w^ould look much nearer home. There was 
 no hope from them. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 93 
 
 She was now crying softly to herself. Her 
 head was on fire. She could hear no sound, from 
 below or above, and the stars just beginning to 
 appear seemed real beings, unfriendly and silent 
 as all else, twinkling only to annoy and terrify 
 her. All overpowered she fell sobbing to the 
 earth by the cave's mouth. 
 
 " Lost,'- she murmured, " lost to the world, 
 and to father— to father.'' Then a wild outburst 
 of grief came to her relief. 
 
 She lay there a long time, waiting and listen- 
 ing. She was waiting for the return of her 
 jailer. If this was part of his plan to reduce her 
 will, it was as successful as it was cruel. She 
 could have killed him for it, only that would 
 have left her destitute of the hope of even his 
 treacherous society. For it teas a hope now, as 
 well as a dread. 
 
 " Better him— better that man than to be 
 alone," she whispered. Then in a flash of bitter 
 memory she recalled the tales she had heard of 
 his deadly enemy, the Sheriff of Wasco. 
 
 She laughed aloud in utter scorn. " The 
 Sheriff of Wasco. Some farmer with a reputa- 
 tion for picking a fight. He on the trail of 
 Hardeman I With such a prodigy round how 
 was the stage held up so easily? How was I 
 captured without interference? The Sheriff of 
 Wasco! Bah — he's a myth." 
 
94 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 At this moment she became conscious of a 
 movement at the edge of the mesa. Her heart 
 leapt to her throat as a figure crawled over its 
 edge — revolver in hand. 
 
 She was on her feet, queenly despite her tat- 
 tered clothing and disheveled hair, her eyes shin- 
 ing hard and bright. 
 
 '' So you've come back. Well — " and her voice 
 shook queerly, " I'm glad to see you." 
 
 " Thought you likely would be," he retorted, 
 and slipping his revolver into place looked at 
 her ; then he laughed at her with open brutality. 
 " Lonesomeness cured you, didn't it? What did 
 I tell you? You're goin' to grow real fond o' me 
 by an' by." 
 
 Myra never winced. She was fighting him 
 now with the only w^eapons she had. 
 
 ^' Do not make me fear you," she said with 
 gentle appeal. " Yes, it was lonesome. Where 
 have you been all day? " 
 
 He liked to be appealed to. " Well, well, I've 
 been sorter prospectin'," he said tolerantly, with 
 a fierce after chuckle at his own humor. 
 
 " Prospecting? For what? Gold? " 
 
 He laughed again. " Ever hear of anybody 
 pros-pectin' for coyotes? That's what I went 
 after." 
 
 She did not understand anything beyond the 
 half indulgent mockery of his voice. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 95 
 
 " Coyotes? They aren't common round here, 
 Mr. Hardeman," she persisted. 
 
 "^ The ones that consider their health ain't/' 
 he agreed. Smiling grimly he reached back for 
 the heavy Colt at his side, and laid it shimmer- 
 ing on the moonlit ground. '' There's one par- 
 ticular coyote calls himself a Sheriff, who's been 
 layin' on my trail so long now its gettin' tire- 
 some. First good sight I have of him. Miss 
 Thorn, he gets this/' 
 
 Myra's heart had given a great leap, but the 
 outlaw never guessed. 
 
 " Poor man," she said lightly. " Sheriffs are 
 usually good shots, though. Suppose he happens 
 to see 3^ou first? " 
 
 Hardeman picked up his weapon and restored 
 it to its place before meeting her smiling, indif- 
 ferent glance. " In that case I'm afraid you'll 
 find this a very lonely mesa," he returned mock- 
 ingly. 
 
 Her hopes dropped again despairingly, but 
 outwardly she only shrugged her shoulders at 
 him. " Horrors. Kill twenty sheriffs rather 
 than that. Your mesa is not a nice place, and 
 I'm afraid they'd never find me." 
 
 His bold admiration of her increased as he 
 watched her, his eyes flashing through the black 
 cloth which still hid his upper face. He liked 
 courage ; and this graceful moonlit statue beside 
 
96 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 the boulder, which was his by the law of might 
 to use as he pleased, had it. 
 
 '' Say, I like you better and better every min- 
 ute," was the unexpected ansAver, delivered with 
 unwelcome ardor. " Don't you worry about the 
 Sheriff. He ain't goin' to leave you lonesome on 
 this mesa. Not much. In just about two days 
 from now there won't be any Sheriff of Wasco." 
 
 Swaggering, he crossed in two strides the 
 space between them and laid his hand on her 
 arm. 
 
 " I haven't had any dinner. Aren't you for- 
 getting? " said Myra desperately? 
 
 " Why, thunder — so I was," he laughed gruffly, 
 recovering himself. " Well, there's plenty of 
 time. We'll have supper and make love after- 
 wards — eh? " 
 
 Hospitably he scurried around and built a fire 
 on the farther side of one of the great boulders, 
 roasted some meat and carved it for her with his 
 hunting knife, all the time making merrj^ over 
 the hotel service on the mesa. 
 
 " Got to keep our light from being seen from 
 the pass," he explained frankly. " Some of your 
 friends might be there an' want to investigate." 
 
 Myra's heart gave such a leap that it almost 
 smothered her, but she took her courage in both 
 hands and said quietly : 
 
 " And if they should of course you'd lose your 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 97 
 
 ransom." She smiled daringly, half understand- 
 ingly at him. '^ How much are you going to ask 
 for me? Poor father, he'd pay anything, I 
 guess." 
 
 For a second or two he gazed at her incredul- 
 ously. Then, grasping her arm, he bent forward 
 and stared with his smouldering wicked eyes 
 deep down into hers, his face twitching beneath 
 his mask. '' Ransom," he said in a growling 
 laugh, as he kicked out the embers of the dying 
 fire, '' Ransom— Hell! '' 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE STRANGER. 
 
 The news of the abduction travelled with cel- 
 erity to Hilltown. As the stage dashed by the 
 foot of the hill the driver raised the alarm in a 
 voice that carried to the settlement above, and 
 men came pouring down to the road to join in the 
 chase after the runaway. 
 
 Cutting through the forest, they headed the 
 animals at a distant turn and stopped them with- 
 out difficulty; and then the facts quickly became 
 public property. 
 
 The woman and her injured husband were soon 
 found, and willing hands carried the wounded 
 man to the settlement, while a body of wood- 
 men started after the highwayman in the direc- 
 tion in which he had disappeared with his cap- 
 tive. 
 
 Messengers were dispatched to inform the pa- 
 trol. When Butts heard the news and delivered 
 it to his men there was tremendous activity for a 
 few minutes. Revolvers were loaded and drop- 
 ped in position at each man's side, and carbines 
 
 98 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 99 
 
 rattled as their owners looked to their magazines 
 to be sure that everything was in exact working 
 order. 
 
 Shots were fired and red light burned to sum- 
 mon the members of the day shift who had not 
 yet returned to camp. The fire signals cast a 
 deep red hue against the Olympics, flaring high 
 in the sky and visible for miles around, Vv^hile the 
 shots reverberated through the foothills with 
 sharp staccato voices. 
 
 In answer to the emergency signals never be- 
 fore used, and dreaded by all the men, they came 
 running from far and near. Instinctively they 
 felt that it was something to do with the outlaw 
 of whom so much had been said recently. When 
 they found that Myra Thorn had been taken 
 away, deep curses and cries for vengeance came 
 from their throats, and they joined the others 
 with vindictive alacrity, although they were al- 
 ready well tired out by the day's work. 
 
 A few hurried explanations and commands 
 from Butts, and the men were away for the long 
 chase. A couple of patrolmen and the two China- 
 men were left behind. The Orientals were anx- 
 ious to stay, they freely confessed it, for they 
 were scared brown by the knowledge of what had 
 happened. 
 
 The two other men, however, s'wore oaths that 
 were long and choice w^hen Butts ordered them 
 
100 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 to remain behind and guard the cabin. Their 
 wrath and indignation Avas finally appeased by 
 the promise that theirs would be the honor of 
 stringing up the outlaw whom the posse con- 
 fidently expected to lead back into camp. 
 
 Butts himself headed the main body of men. 
 Red-faced with excitement, his veins stood out 
 on his neck like whip cords. Jones headed an- 
 other party. The two divisions subdivided into 
 groups of three or four as they approached the 
 scene of the abduction, after a long and wearying 
 run that lasted until late into the night. Then a 
 semi-circle was formed that covered a large area, 
 and began to advance towards the mountains 
 above, for they all believed that some of the deep 
 gorges or great hidden caves would be found to 
 be the outlaw's lair. 
 
 Every man had orders to capture him alive 
 if possible; to save the girl at all hazards. 
 Every man was aware that he himself would be 
 shot by Hardeman on sight; but they all were 
 taking desperate chances. They searched every- 
 where, using lanterns when the moon failed to 
 aid them. Not one of the patrol thought of self; 
 each man thought of the outlaw, and first and 
 above everything of the girl. 
 
 The woodmen from Hilltown had formed 
 other parties and were thoroughly scouring the 
 country. But all attempts to discover the out- 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASVO, 101 
 
 law's whereabouts were destined to disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 Morning came and no trace of him. The 
 search continued until every possible hiding- 
 place had been sought out and examined— that is 
 every such place east or north of the mountains. 
 The outlaw had vanished completely. The long 
 start he had obtained had made his escape cer- 
 tain. Nobody had thought of a possible flight 
 through the pass, into the Land of the Silent 
 Winds, for the pass had never been crossed to 
 their knowledge, and it existed in men's minds 
 more as a legendary locality than as an actual 
 place. 
 
 Thus it was that the day advanced into after- 
 noon and still the searchers were baffled. The 
 opinion was now firm that Hardeman had 
 doubled on his tracks and carried his captive 
 away by water, perhaps south, perhaps north to 
 the Canadian frontier. 
 
 During the afternoon the two patrolmen who 
 had been left behind at the cabin headquarters 
 were seated outside the door, watching the China- 
 men as they collected the logs for the camp fire. 
 They were also discus-sing the progress of the 
 search, for word had come to them but a short 
 time before from Hilltown. 
 
 Bill Thomas, the older of the two men had 
 
102 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 turned to his comrade and remarked: "Dutch, 
 it strikes me as how they're wastin' their time." 
 
 " Sure ! That there outlaw's doubled and 
 taken the girl across Juan de Fuca." 
 
 There was a dissatisfied grunt from Thomas, 
 w^ho continued to chew his tobacco slowly and 
 ponderously. Evidently Dutch had not quite 
 chimed with his way of thinking. The younger 
 man waited for an explanation, but not getting 
 any slowly enquired : 
 
 " What is the matter with you, anyway? " 
 
 " Darn fools talking about Juan de Fuca, is 
 what's the matter with me." 
 
 Dutch was on his feet in an instant. " What 
 in the name of thunder ails Juan de Fuca? " 
 
 Thomas got up too, " Don't you know the 
 straits was rougher than blazes last night? W^ho 
 in the name of a skunk cabbage could row a girl 
 aw^ay in such a seaway? Could you, you doggone 
 idiot?" 
 
 " Bill Thomas, you're the conceitedest ass this 
 side the range — but you're right fer once." 
 
 Both men were galled and sick and sore at 
 having been left behind, and a fight had been 
 narrowly averted by Dutch's timely diplomacy. 
 Thomas was deeply disgusted and spitting out 
 his tobacco remarked : 
 
 " San Juan de Fuca be blowed. You're too 
 young to have sense enough to grow old." 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 103 
 
 *^ Well acknowledging I'm wrong, Mr. Thomas, 
 what is your overcrowded headpiece evolving? 
 What kind of a theory are you about to spit 
 out?" 
 
 " The Devil's Pass.'' 
 
 "The Walk?" 
 
 " Sure, you lightweight. Hardeman's fooled 
 'em all. He's cut through to t'other side o' the 
 mountains. 
 
 "• Can't be, Bill. Nobody's ever cut through 
 the pass." 
 
 " That's no sign nobody can't get through. I'll 
 bet you Hardeman's taken the girl to the place 
 you and I seen once from the top of old Brown 
 Face." He indicated a giant peak in the dis- 
 tance as he spoke, Dutch pondered a moment 
 and exclaimed in awe: 
 
 " The Land o' Silence! Where Chief Talabam 
 said the dead Indians w^as moving around as 
 though they was alive, but didn't make no 
 noise." 
 
 " Bosh ! you know^ that's a story, Dutch. The 
 land is all right, only it ain't been explored." 
 
 "When Butts comes back w^e'll see w^hat he 
 don't know about chasing outlaws — eh. Bill? " 
 
 " We will, Dutch ; " assented Bill confiden- 
 tially " and we'll get on the trail ourselves, and 
 visit the unknown country and catch Hardeman 
 sure." 
 
104 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 Both men were good-natured again. They had 
 a scheme that promised results. 
 
 " I'll shoot that Hardeman on sight/' re- 
 marked Dutch slowly to himself. 
 
 " I'll bore the cuss from four hundred yards ; 
 my carbine's a dandy," boasted Thomas. 
 
 ^^ So are you a dandy J' The words came laugh- 
 ingly, sarcastically, teasingW, from just behind 
 the patrolmen. 
 
 Thomas and Dutch wheeled with one accord 
 and faced the speaker. 
 
 With one arm he was nonchalantly support- 
 ing himself against the edge of the cabin. His 
 face was tanned and quite youthful; he was not 
 much over thirty, and his blue eyes beamed 
 alertly under his well-formed brows. His lower 
 face was strong and well shaped, and his mouth 
 wore a sarcastic twist. He was clean-shaven 
 and dressed above in a blue flannel shirt and a 
 well worn buckskin coat, which was flung back 
 on the right side, so that his hand rested on his 
 belt, quite near to the handle of a heavy revolver. 
 Bill and Dutch also noticed that a repeating rifle 
 was resting lazily against the log wall of the 
 cabin. 
 
 The unknown's trousers were like his coat, 
 buckskin, and well worn. His chest was broad, 
 and showed a little beneath his shirt. On his 
 head was an old visored cap, cocked saucily 
 
*' So are you a dandy." 
 
 ?? / 
 
 Page lOi 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 105 
 
 backwards, exposing a heavy head of hair and a 
 bold forehead. 
 
 He was unusually tall and well built; and was 
 evidently enjoying the patrolmen's surprise, for 
 he chuckled quite audibly as their glances met 
 his. 
 
 Noticing his coat, Bill blurted out : 
 
 " Stranger to these regions? " 
 
 The new arrival bowed in mock seriousness. 
 " Correct ! I inadvertently overheard your re- 
 marks about Hardeman, and how you two were 
 ffoino^ to make a sieve of him; so I decided to 
 apologize for my apparent impoliteness and get 
 on friendly terms with such dangerous men as 
 you." 
 
 Yang Foo and Yang Ko were now edging to- 
 wards the kitchen door. This stranger might be 
 all right, but he had a peculiar expression, and 
 they decided that caution was wise in Orientals. 
 
 The Chinamen had both seen gun play. The 
 calmness of courage or deviltry that precedes 
 the instantaneous movement of the hand down- 
 ward, the sudden jerking of the arm and the well- 
 nigh simultaneous report, all were old acquaint- 
 ances to them; and they liked not the easy, in- 
 different poise of this stranger. 
 
 They vanished into the kitchen, slamming the 
 door after them ; and then went out of the back 
 window and streaked for the woods and Hill- 
 
106 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 town, to tell of the camp's horrible visit from the 
 outlaw. 
 
 Thomas and Dutch made no hostile movement; 
 they knew better. The stranger was master of 
 the situation. 
 
 " Glad to see you, stranger," remarked Bill, 
 " Make yourself at home." 
 
 The visitor grinned : " Are you really glad to 
 see me, boys; — really? " 
 
 The voice was quiet and euphonious, and 
 Dutch remarked in an undertone. 
 
 ^* That's him — and he's laughing at us. It's 
 the outlaw." 
 
 " Sure," muttered Bill, as he uneasily shifted 
 his position and motioned to the stranger to sit 
 down. 
 
 " Yes ; glad to see you o' course. Awful lone- 
 some since the patrol got after that Hardeman." 
 
 The stranger was nearly laughing aloud. 
 " You two fellows go and join the hunt ; I'll 
 watch camp for you. You ought to have a chance 
 to plug him from four hundred yards with that 
 dandy carbine of yours. And your friend ought 
 to be allowed to kill him on sight." 
 
 Dutch sat down ; and the stranger, seizing his 
 rifle, moved quickly to a stone nearby and 
 perched upon it. 
 
 " You two fellows never met Hardeman, did 
 you? " he queried. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 107 
 
 « Nope/' 
 
 " Well, he's harmless. He's a gentle, mis- 
 judged creature with the world against him." 
 
 The patrolmen were getting decidedly uneasy. 
 The visitor was certainly enjoying himself at 
 their expense. His voice and his general appear- 
 ance as well as his manner stamped him the out- 
 law. 
 
 They felt that they were in the presence of the 
 notorious Hardeman, and he was up to some of 
 his famous tricks. He was too gentlemanly, too 
 oily, for comfort. 
 
 The new arrival made a sudden move with his 
 left hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a 
 cigar case. Then, watching the two meanwhile 
 as a cat watches a mouse, he extended it. Each 
 patrolman took a cigar, the first in months, and 
 all three started to smoke while the stranger be- 
 gan to ask questions regarding the Devil's Walk 
 and the locality beyond. 
 
 Bill exchanged glances with Dutch, and they 
 mentally decided to tell all that they knew, and 
 to tell it quickly. 
 
 "The searchers haven't gone to the pass?" 
 queried the visitor finally. 
 
 " No," answered Thomas laconically. 
 
 "Will you lead them there tonight?" 
 
 " No,'' and Bill shook his head earnestly. 
 
 " If you don't, you can't use your little car- 
 
X08 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 bine. He'll get away." The visitor chuckled 
 again, and rising to go, stepped backward, smil- 
 ing curiously. 
 
 Somehow he tripped, but caught himself before 
 falling; and as he did so he saw that Thomas 
 had profited by the opportunity. The patrol- 
 man's hand was already on his gun, and Dutch 
 was launching himself forward with a swinging 
 blow. 
 
 Quick as a flash, the stranger brought his fist 
 to Bill's neck, and the guardsman went down 
 like a lumbering ox. Then he turned and closed 
 with the agile Dutch. In a moment the younger 
 patrolman went spinning backwards under the 
 impact of a fearful blow. The visitor stooped 
 over his prostrate victims and disarmed them. 
 He waited until each staggered dizzily to his feet, 
 then he tossed their weapons disdainfully into a 
 gully nearby. 
 
 " There, you clumsy fools, hunt for them. You 
 couldn't catch Hardeman if you had him in a 
 barrel." 
 
 He bowed in mock solemnity, and with eyes 
 twinkling and lips curling in sarcastic enjoyment 
 disappeared into the forest. 
 
 " Why didn't you plug him? " yelled Dutch to 
 the older man. " You had a chance." 
 
 " I didn't get no chance. He saw me hand 
 
THE SHERIFF OF ^YASCO. 109 
 
 reach for me gun and then he come like a whirl- 
 wind. Why the — didn't you shoot him instead 
 of trying to use yer fists." 
 
 Dutch hunched his shoulders. " Let's look for 
 our guns/' he exclaimed meekly, and the two 
 shamefacedly dropped into the gully and began 
 a hunt for their sidearms. 
 
 The frightened Chinamen had given the alarm 
 to several woodmen and these rushed to the 
 camp. 
 
 They found Bill and Dutch in the gully and 
 the two patrolmen were obliged to tell what had 
 happened. To make their own position less em- 
 barrassing they gave a highly exaggerated and 
 lurid description of the terrible fight, of the 
 outlaw's agility, and of their having been over- 
 powered by superhuman strength. As both 
 patrolmen w^ere strong, active men, the others 
 readily agreed that Hardeman must be every 
 bit as bad as he had been painted. 
 
 " He was just a-kidding us all the while," ex- 
 plained Bill apologetically, " laughing at us." 
 
 " He can lick the whole doggoned patrol," as- 
 serted Dutch, "an' he don't need no guns 
 neither." 
 
 Dismay seized the searchers when the report 
 spread that the outlaw had visited the camp and 
 braved capture. Everyone thought of the girL 
 
110 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 He must have secreted her somewhere mean- 
 while. 
 
 Kedoubled efforts were made to find her; but 
 early next morning, the second after her dis- 
 appearance the patrol began straggling back to 
 camp, exhausted and despondent. The outlaw's 
 visit became an engrossing subject of conversa- 
 tion immediately. 
 
 " Yes," said Thomas to Butts' query, " he heard 
 us two talk about how Hardeman might 'a took 
 Miss Thorn through the pass to the Silent Land 
 over yonder. Then he steps up and appears 
 mightily interested; wanted to know if I'd lead 
 
 vou there." 
 
 «/ 
 
 " He did, did he? He just wanted to lie in 
 wait for us and pick us off one by one. The cuss 
 has got Miss Thorn across the mountains, sure." 
 
 " Mighty funny he came back, though," sug- 
 gested Jenks, the patrolman from Oregon. " He 
 oughter been busy getting away." 
 
 There was silence around the fire. The men 
 were at a loss to understand the action of the 
 outlaw. The driver of the stage, who had been 
 brought to camp, sat with his face in his hands, 
 gazing hopelessly at the fire. 
 
 Suddenly Jenks turned to nThomas and in- 
 quired : 
 
 " How was he dressed? How did he look? " 
 
 " Ordinary buckskin trousers and coat and a 
 
TUB SHERIFF OF WASCO. Ill 
 
 visor cap. He's as graceful and quick as a cat, 
 an' he's a young cuss; ain't over thirty-three. He 
 talks educated." 
 
 The driver sat up and gazing thoughtfully be- 
 fore him said : " He hadn't no buckskin coat, 
 and no visor cap when he held me up. He cer- 
 tainly hadn't no visor cap." 
 
 Jenks was on his feet in an instant. ^^ A 
 visor cap? Bill — Dutch — You smoked cigars 
 with a gentleman, I tell you." 
 
 "What the dickens?" growled Bill. 
 
 " That's the Sheriff o' Wasco ! " 
 
 There was a roar of surprise and doubt as the 
 men stood up and surrounded the speaker, who 
 continued enthusiastically : " Yes, it was that 
 Sheriff sure. He's vouncr and he's full o' the 
 devil. He's over the pass after Hardeman by 
 this time. He wanted to know if you were com- 
 ing, did he? All he wanted to know^ was if he 
 could have the game to himself." 
 
 " He's a cuss," yelled Dutch. " He's a regiment 
 from Hell let loose." 
 
 Unable to control his excitement he thumped 
 his friend on the back, and the two, who were 
 glad to know they had been licked by a gentle- 
 man, bellowed in unison. 
 
 " He's a slick one, he is. He's a son of a gun." 
 The others caught their enthusiasm, and a 
 
112 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 raiglity cheer rose through the hills like the 
 roaring of wild animals. There was hope for 
 the girl. The daring fellow from Wasco was 
 close on the trail- 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE NIGHT ON THE MESA. 
 
 The chill that struck Mjra, alone with her 
 captor, was not without ample cause. 
 
 The determination and wickedness in his voice 
 sounded like the clanging of the door of hope. 
 The dying embers fled apart under his heavy feet 
 like live things upon which he was wreaking ven- 
 geance. Desperately she glanced behind her at 
 the cave. If there were only a weapon — a knife, 
 a stick — anything with which to defend herself. 
 But there was nothing. 
 
 Almost instantly he strode back beside her, on 
 his lips an evil yet tolerant smile. 
 
 " Look-a-here now, you want to keep on the 
 right side of me, and not get me mad talkin' 
 about ransom and such doggoned foolery. I ain't 
 always apt to be a gentleman when I'm mad." 
 
 Myra looked at him with white lips. " You get 
 angry with me too easily, Mr. Hardeman. I am 
 not used to it, you know. If you want me to like 
 you, you must be patient with me." 
 
 " Eh? " he thrust his hand under her chin and 
 
 113 
 
114 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 raised her twitching face. — '^ Like me! You bet 
 1 want you to like me. I wouldn't take a million 
 dollars for you, I think so much of you. I'm 
 dead in love with you — see? been in love with 
 you for a — for some time; so I've brought you 
 off here where I won't be disturbed in my love- 
 making. Ain't any of your friends likely to 
 eavesdrop on us here — eh? Now you be nice 
 and reasonable, and you'll find Mr. Hardeman a 
 gentleman, and more." 
 
 " You planned all this — you made your pre- 
 parations beforehand?" the question fluttered 
 from Myra's lips. 
 
 " Sure, I did, and I got you. I always put a 
 deal through when I begin it," he answered with 
 a boastful grin. 
 
 Blighted by his sneers, by the sense of her utter 
 helplessness, she stood trembling. He was a 
 tiger — worse, oh far worse than a tiger. But 
 there was only one thing for her to do. 
 
 Taking a swift step forward — fear and hatred 
 of him in her heart, but on her lips a smile such 
 as she would have given a lover — she laid her 
 hand with almost a caress on his arm, and smiled 
 up at him. 
 
 " Mr. Hardeman, do not judge me harshly to- 
 night," she said softly and beseechingly. '^ Per- 
 haps I w^as unfair. I had no — no idea you had 
 ever seen me before. But I am so tired; I am 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 115 
 
 stupid from lack of sleep and that long journey. 
 You are strong. I have never seen a man as 
 strong as you. Be gentle to me. Show me a 
 place where I can sleep, safe and sound to-night 
 — and tomorrow you will see," she stopped, catch- 
 ing her breath in a quick little laugh — '^ oh you 
 will see to-morrow how^ nice I will be." 
 
 In his delight he caught at her with both 
 hands, but she swiftly eluded him, laughing. He 
 followed her, his drawling, insolent voice quick- 
 ened by eagerness. 
 
 " Now you're talkin'. That's the way I like a 
 woman to treat me." By a dexterous movement 
 he caught her wrist and held her fast. " Damned 
 if I ain't in love with you," he laughed thickly, 
 ** and damned if I don't make you love me back. 
 I said you were the queen. Supposin' I agree to 
 this scheme of yours to-night what do I get for 
 it?" 
 
 " Let me go first," said Myra, " I'll tell you ; " 
 and he released her. 
 
 " You said you were the Prince Charming I 
 You may kiss my hand — if you promise," and 
 she extended the member, holding herself off 
 regally but graciously. 
 
 Seeing nothing but coquetry in her act and 
 air, he laughed, and with a show of high-flown 
 gallantry took his payment. Then, his honor 
 
116 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 being altogether too delicate to bear tlie strain 
 she was putting on it, he snatched at her as an 
 animal might, and kissed her violently on the 
 mouth, once — and then he added some words. 
 She could not choose but hear, and her cheeks 
 flamed and her ears seemed to wither with ig- 
 nominy as she fled from him. 
 
 Later she lay extended on the bear-skin, alone 
 in the cave which, with boasted chivalry, he had 
 abandoned to her use for the night, and shud- 
 dering looked back on that foul precipice from 
 which she had escaped. 
 
 She had no tears. Wide-eyed and full of hor- 
 ror she lay staring at the cave's entrance and 
 counted mechanically the stars that showed them- 
 selves in the space. An occasional tremor shook 
 her body from head to feet, but without her 
 knowledge. Sometimes she raised her hand and 
 wiped her mouth, but the act was more than half 
 involuntary. She was scarcely conscious of any- 
 thing in the shock of fear and loathing his words 
 had caused, except that to-morrow — to-morrow — 
 she would be able to fight him off no longer. To- 
 morrow he, the beast whom she had hoped in 
 her ignorance and folly to control, would en- 
 slave her to his pleasure as doubtless he had en- 
 slaved countless women before her. 
 
 There was no hope. She had said ^ to-morrow ' 
 only in the impulse of her fear — in the desire to 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 117 
 
 delay him, and gain a little respite for herself. 
 He knew there was no hope; else he would have 
 laughed, and destroyed her. 
 
 Miles away from the den in which she lay 
 watching, a dim blue mighty wall reached to 
 heaven and bounded off the night. That was the 
 Olympics — her own Olympics — and beyond them 
 her father and friends, frantic with grief, were 
 searching for her. If they but knew, could they 
 but guess what she was suffering — how they 
 would fly to her. Well was it for this dog of an 
 outlaw that he had chosen his lair so wisely. 
 
 She did not think of them much, however. 
 They belonged to the past. They were a part of 
 something that was gone. She was now no lon- 
 ger herself — Myra Thorn — but a woman reduced 
 to first principles, a hunted, helpless animal to 
 whom all life and sense were bound up in the 
 coming of to-morrow and the hunter. 
 
 As hour after hour went by, and still the same 
 white moonlight and utter silence, she began to 
 wonder whether he had gone away. She had put 
 no faith in his promise that he would leave her 
 in peace even for that night. Yet he made no 
 sound or sign. Perhaps even he had honor of a 
 kind; she had heard that a queer brand of it 
 was said to flourish among thieves. The moon 
 was behind the cave, so that the shadows of the 
 great boulders at the entrance lay slanting along 
 
118 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 the grass, always in view; and she knew noth- 
 ing could move behind her but the shadow of it 
 would be thus projected and give her warning. 
 
 Her eyelids were growing fearfully heavy. 
 Even her terrible vigil could not resist the peace 
 and utter quietude that reigned. 
 
 She began to find herself keeping watch in 
 dreams which were still more menacing than 
 reality. Starting from one of these lapses some 
 time when the moon was sinking she saw with 
 terror an abnormally long shadow of a man stalk- 
 ing silently across in her direction. 
 
 She was on her feet w^hen he appeared. It w^as 
 Hardeman, but not in a particularly ferocious 
 mood. He was preoccupied, and seemed merely 
 to take casual note that she had not escaped, as 
 he stopped and looked in upon her. He had not 
 come altogether on her account, for while he 
 spoke to her he was looking off in another direc- 
 tion. 
 
 " Thought you were asleep? '' he asked shortly. 
 
 " I w^as' until just a moment ago," said Myra. 
 
 Glancing at her fear-stricken mien he gave a 
 sarcastic grunt of a laugh, " Seein' my shadow 
 you thought I'd lied to you, an' was comin' payin' 
 my addresses ahead of time. Lie down and go 
 to sleep. Hardeman's w^ord is as good as the 
 President's, understand. I'm goin' prospectin' 
 again for a while before breakfast. Bring you 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 119 
 
 something to eat, maybe. When I get back we'll 
 talk." 
 
 However he did not set off immediately on his 
 prospecting, but stood for several minutes where 
 he w^as, backed by one of the boulders, looking 
 across the moonlit country towards the Olym- 
 pics. Gazing with all her might Myra could de- 
 tect no sign of life or movement, though his un- 
 easiness called up the wildest hopes. 
 
 " What is it — w^hat do you see out there, Mr, 
 Hardeman? " she asked as serenely as she could. 
 
 " Guess it's a lone babe in the woods," he an- 
 swered grimly, without turning his head. '* He's 
 lookin' for the way home, and I'm going down to 
 show him. You go to sleep again, or you'll 
 get hurt," he commanded roughly. 
 
 In a few seconds he vanished over the edge. 
 
 Had she been less wildly excited she might 
 have felt a momentary admiration. He had not 
 hurt her yet, but that was not weakness ; only a 
 mere marvelous whim of his. He had no weak- 
 nesses. Strong and swift, he was like a big male 
 tiger, sniffing some unknown danger afar off, 
 and stalking savagely forth to meet it. 
 
 Left alone she might have slept now in safety ; 
 but hope had killed that effectually. Gaze as she 
 might, however, she saw nothing, heard nothing, 
 except the ghostly desolate scenery, lying as it 
 had lain all night. She dared not let hope carry 
 
120 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 her away. If rescue were coming, would there 
 be no sound of any kind? Her friends would 
 not sneak upon Hardeman like thieves in the 
 night. There was no voice, no light, no sound of 
 a footstep anywhere. She could not remain any 
 longer in the cave. When the moon sank, she 
 came out and wandered cautiously about in the 
 blackness, listening intently. 
 
 At last, just before dawn, she heard a faint 
 shot, leagues away, it seemed. No other sound 
 followed, and after waiting a while she retreated 
 to the shelter of the boulders and stood there 
 trembling. What did that shot portend? Was it 
 her friend, or Hardeman, who had fallen? For 
 there was no doubt now that some friend — it 
 might be the Sheriff of Wasco himself — had dis- 
 covered the trail and, single-handed perhaps, at- 
 tempted a rescue. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A DOUBTFUL IDENTITY. 
 
 The darkness gradually paled before the dawn, 
 and objects around grew faintly visible as she 
 remained there waiting, half benumbed with anx- 
 iety. At last, though she had seen no one ap- 
 proach, the rustle of footsteps passed around the 
 boulder, and looking up she saw, or thought she 
 saw, instead of a friend, only the figure she 
 feared and hated. 
 
 He had lost the mask apparently, so she saw 
 his face for the first time, and perceived with a 
 shock how shrewd and clear and pleasant it w^as. 
 Not the face she would ever have associated with 
 a bad man. But his look of triumph was un- 
 mistakable. Plainly he expected her to welcome 
 him back from his deed of blood. 
 
 She shrank in an agony of fear. 
 
 "You — ^you — have you — killed him?" 
 
 His face instantly fell, first to amazement, then 
 to doggedness. 
 
 " No, I ain't ! — Sorry to say it. But he won't 
 intrude on you any more, not for the present, I 
 guess. — Thought you wanted him killed." 
 
 121 
 
122 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 He was highly offended at her reception of 
 him after his proved valor — in chasing off the 
 Sheriff of Wasco presumably. Poor Myra had 
 learned by past experience not to provoke his 
 anger. 
 
 " Oh, I hate killing people — sheriffs or no 
 sheriffs," she explained piteously, "■ I heard the 
 shot, and I didn't know — It's been terrible wait- 
 ing up here." She strove to smile. 
 
 Every expression of which a man's face is 
 capable flashed across his in the space of one 
 second, to be displaced by a look of pity and 
 pleasant tenderness. 
 
 " You're all tuckered out. It has been tough on 
 you, hasn't it?" he remarked solicitously. Then 
 he smiled quickly. " Oh say — you an' I oughter 
 be real good friends now, hadn't we? " Taking a 
 step toward her he had almost laid his hand on 
 her shoulder, but in her horror at the man and 
 his deeds, she shrieked and fled backward pre- 
 cipitately. 
 
 '^ Oh no — don't ; don't, please ! I mean — " she 
 stopped, seeing he did not pursue — " don't be an- 
 gry. I'm — I'm nervous, you know, that's all," 
 she smiled conciliatingly. "' It's been so dreadful 
 since you went." 
 
 He did not wax brutal. Perhaps the defeat of 
 his chief enemy had put him in better temper. 
 He merely gave her a short but comprehensive 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 123 
 
 look; then he pulled off his visored cap with a 
 sweep and retreated around the boulder, remark- 
 ing: 
 
 " As you like ma'am, exactly!'^ 
 
 Palpitating with relief and dread she heard 
 him set quietly about making a fire. 
 
 Myra's thoughts whirled about with bewilder- 
 ing rapidity for the next fifteen minutes, during 
 which she enjoyed a quite royal privacy. The 
 only intrusion on it indeed was his rifle, which 
 he had left carelessly propped against the rock. 
 Myra ceased questioning, and pounced upon it 
 joyfully. He had carried no such weapon this 
 morning. Undoubtedly it had belonged to that 
 poor unfortunate Sheriff of Wasco, who had been 
 trying to save her. 
 
 The next insult Hardeman offered her, he 
 should pay for with his life, provided that gun 
 was loaded. And in an instant she had satisfied 
 herself that it w^as. 
 
 In fifteen minutes she found him again con- 
 fronting her with a tin cup full of water, in 
 which he signified that she was to wash. 
 
 " Thought you might like to get some of this 
 mesa off of you. Breakfast is ready," he re- 
 marked. 
 
 Apparently he expected to hold the cup and 
 empty it over her hands. But she willed other- 
 
124 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 wise. She wanted privacy while she arranged 
 her thoughts of him. 
 
 What amazing change had passed on him since 
 the night? His attitude had altered somehow, 
 oh, so beneficently. He actually obeyed her — as 
 other men did. He was no more that growling, 
 surly ruffian of last night and this morning than 
 — well, than he was the Sheriff of Wasco himself. 
 As he was now she could control him, she was 
 certain. Full of hope, she sallied around the 
 boulder to breakfast, determined to be dignified 
 and gracious, and began at once. 
 
 " Thank you so much, Mr. Hardeman, for the 
 water. It certainly was a treat. Where did you 
 get it?" 
 
 It took him an extraordinary length of time 
 to answer such a simple question. 
 
 " Just down there,'' he said indefinitely at last. 
 *^ I'll get you some more any time you say so, 
 ma'am." 
 
 Myra pinched herself surreptitiously to pre- 
 clude any danger that she was dreaming. This 
 was too beautiful for real life. 
 
 " I've never seen you really till this morning," 
 she pursued. " You seem — do you know, you 
 seem to be almost another man? Don't wear 
 that mask again, will you please?- " she added 
 w^ith a touch of entreaty. 
 
 There was a long pause. He had ceased avec 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 125 
 
 to eat, and was regarding her with a straight, 
 disconcerting stare which at first she took for 
 anger, till she caught a certain shrewd, keen, 
 and humorous gleam, instantly suppressed. 
 
 " No ma^am, I certainly won't," he said with 
 decision. Sticking his knife in the earth while 
 he waited on her he went on quickly : 
 
 " You think I'm another man? Well now, I 
 am. I've been thinking a whole lot, and I'm 
 going to ask your pardon if I've scared you and 
 treated you bad. Guess you've been having 
 rather a hard time of it, and to make up I'm go- 
 ing to take you right back home after breakfast." 
 He paused and meeting her incredulous eyes, 
 smiled benevolently, " provided you're willing, of 
 course," he added slowly. 
 
 " Are you making fun of me, Mr. Hardeman? " 
 almost whispered poor Myra. 
 
 "Making fun o' you?" he echoed with vehe- 
 mence. " May Hardeman be hanged if I am, 
 Miss Thorn." 
 
 Tone and look were alike so convincing and 
 satisfactory, that Myra had the fight of her life 
 to keep from bursting into childish crying under 
 his very eyes. Being an outlaw, however, he 
 might change again at any instant. 
 
 " Then w^e'U start at once ; I don't want any 
 breakfast," she said, rising hastily. " Thank you, 
 very much. Father '11 give you money — I won't 
 
126 THE SHERIFF OF ^VASCO, 
 
 forget that, on the whole, you've been rather 
 good — '' Here her voice gave out, and her eyes 
 filled with tears, but she smiled sweetly in de- 
 fault, and the man, after one glance at her, sud- 
 denly assumed the look of a deep-dyed culprit. 
 
 " I guess I'm one of those fellows the fool- 
 killer missed last year, ma'am," he said, with a 
 queerly hesitating, apologetic smile. Myra made 
 no answer. " But I'll sit through this game now. 
 Take my advice — don't waste any of your kind 
 thoughts on Hardeman. As for your father's 
 money, he knows better than to waste it." 
 
 Myra only shook her head doubtfully and van- 
 ished behind the boulder, from which she quickly 
 reappeared, more composed, and carrying the 
 rifle with rather a final air. 
 
 " You have a very good side, Mr. Hardeman 
 — and perhaps you haven't had the opportunities 
 of most men. But if you'll only promise me 
 to reform I'll do everything I can to persuade 
 the Governor to pardon you," she observed with 
 grateful eyes and the merest hint of condescen- 
 sion. 
 
 '' Thank you kindly ! " It disturbed her that 
 he actually smiled in amusement; but it was far 
 worse to have him lay his hand arrestingly on 
 the rifle. 
 
 " I'll carry that gun, if you please. I can shoot 
 faster than you. If you're afraid of me — " he 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 127 
 
 loosed his big Colt from its place and handed 
 it to her. " Better not ask the Governor to 
 pardon me yet, jou see." 
 
 His eyes were twinkling with kindly sarcasm, 
 and Myra meeting them, took the revolver with- 
 out a word, and they began the long journey 
 homeward. 
 
 Explanation of the wondrous change that had 
 come about in him was quite beyond her, tired 
 as she was. The blessed feeling that she need 
 not fear him, all strange and inexplicable 
 though it was, grew and robbed her of the stimu- 
 lus that had sustained her, and she became like 
 a tired child in his hands. 
 
 The descent from the mesa she could never 
 have made alone. But he helped her, directing, 
 guiding her feet, holding her, all with such fine 
 courtesy that she forgot to dread his arms. She 
 had no alternative indeed about accepting his 
 help, for without it she would have broken her 
 neck. 
 
 All through the morning he seemed driven by 
 the desire to atone to her, and Myra tacitly set- 
 tled it in her own mind that it w^as for his past 
 wickedness. She had not suspected he could be 
 so sensitive on the point, nor show it by sur- 
 rounding her with such fine delicate care. The 
 old Hardeman had dragged her ruthlessly 
 through and over obstacles, but this one care- 
 
128 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 fully removed them from her path. She set 
 the pace now, not he ; and, half stupid with sleep 
 and weariness as she was, the way seemed 
 strangely easier. 
 
 One thing was certain. He was the most fear- 
 less man she had ever imagined. Although his 
 chief enemy, the Sheriff of Wasco, must be lurk- 
 ing somewhere in the vicinity, and although 
 every step brought her nearer to her friends, 
 who would give him short shrift once they laid 
 hands on him, he was quite undaunted. Quite 
 evidently he found a kind of daredevilish enter- 
 tainment in his situation. At times, Myra sus- 
 pected, in her also. 
 
 At dinner time he chose the softest and most 
 desirable spot possible, and seated her in it. 
 He gave her food, and fetched water for her 
 in the tin cup, and then seated himself at her 
 feet, but a little way off. 
 
 " Do you know you're very queer? The Sheriff 
 of Wasco is round here somewhere, and I don't 
 believe you've given him a thought since this 
 morning. Don't you fear him?" she asked. 
 
 "Do you?" 
 
 " Well, hardly. He's my friend. But you — I 
 should think under the circumstances you'd feel 
 rather uneasy." 
 
 " So should I, Miss Thorn." Pausing he 
 smiled at her, the same sharp, quizzing smile 
 
THE &HERIFF OF WASCO. 129 
 
 which had accompanied his gift of the revolver. 
 '' I'll tell jou something that's true as the gos- 
 pel," he said confidentially, " There's only one 
 genuinely uneasy man anywhere in this vicinity 
 — and he's the Sheriff of Wasco." 
 
 Myra laughed resentfully. "You're fairly 
 cool. That's his rifle you've got there, I sup- 
 pose, so you feel safe." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, that's his rifle; and I do feel 
 sorter safe as you say!" In spite of herself 
 Myra liked the ring of his voice, the twinkle of 
 his smiling eyes. She might have felt a pre- 
 monition of a mistake somew^here. But she got 
 no further than a vague wonder at him. Such 
 a psychological problem as he offered was quite 
 beyond her in her present befogged state of mind 
 
 The meal over, he presented once more the 
 over-worked tin cup, kneeling on one knee for 
 her convenience. 
 
 "We're at Delmonico's in New York. This 
 here's your finger bowl. Miss Thorn, and I am 
 your humble waiter," he said smiling, but with- 
 out special humility. 
 
 " I think you must be Dr. Jekyll," said Myra, 
 rinsing her fingers. " Why, oh, why are you 
 so kind to me now? You make me dread the 
 moment w^hen Mr. Hyde will come back." 
 
 He threw away the w^ater behind him, but 
 did not alter his attitude, while with wonder- 
 
130 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 ful quickness the smile changed to a look of in* 
 dignant concern. His voice was low but sharp. 
 
 " Was that villain really bad to you? " 
 
 ''That villain f^^ repeated Myra in doubt. 
 
 " Yes — that I was to you ; Mr. Hyde you 
 know^/' he supplemented quickly. 
 
 At this question a rush of memory, memory 
 of the night before, suffused the girPs face with 
 a w^ave of outraged color. 
 
 " You certainly ought to know," she said 
 coldly, and rising turned from him. 
 
 But there was no villainy in the anger w^nich 
 her flushed face had called into his, as he 
 watched her choose another seat for herself fur- 
 ther removed from his plainly dreaded vicinity. 
 Smarting and chagrined he instinctively picked 
 up his rifle, but it was no help to him. 
 
 " So — damn his soul ! — that accounts for her 
 keeping the revolver," he remarked softly. " He 
 must have treated her outrageously. I'm a 
 double-dyed jackass." 
 
 He started after her with purpose on his 
 brow. But he checked himself as suddenly. 
 When he came up to her the old courteous smile 
 was restored, though some sign of effort was vis- 
 ible. 
 
 " Miss Thorn," he explained, standing bare- 
 headed and straight before her, " Dr. JekyJl, as 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO 131 
 
 you'll remember, took no stock in that partner 
 of his, that man Hyde. I'm in his case exactly, 
 you see. I'd wring Hyde's neck with the great- 
 est of pleasure. I despise the dog, — but I have 
 no recollection of his doings lately. Miss Thorn, 
 if you see the least symptom of his return about 
 me, I'll ask you please to shoot me dead." 
 
 Poor Myra! She believed she had monstrous 
 cause for offense at him — but here he was in- 
 viting her to ^hoot him dead. And whatever he 
 had been, plainly she had no need now to fear 
 him. She stood wavering for an instant, but 
 finally answered with a cold flicker of a smile: 
 
 " Thank you. Dr. Jekyll— I believe I will." 
 
 Quite gravely he replaced his cap. Raking 
 together a little mound of pine cones and dry 
 brush he took off his coat and fashioned a pillow 
 in the shade. 
 
 " I suppose you won't believe me now, but I'll 
 stake my head you're in no danger from Hyde 
 or any other low sneaking w^olf while I'm here 
 to guard you. — I'd like it real well if you'd 
 rest a little," and he waved his hand simply to- 
 ward his arrangements. 
 
 Unless she was going to make herself need- 
 lessly ridiculous, there was no way of resent- 
 ing his mild air of authority. Wondering 
 peevishly what next she would do at his bid- 
 ding, Myra walked over like a school-girl to the 
 
132 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 place and lay down, pillowing her tired pretty 
 head docilely on his coat. 
 
 She needed the rest dreadfully ; but she would 
 not close her eyes for one second, she stubbornly 
 determined. If he took her for such a fool as 
 that, he was well mistaken. Not all his pretend- 
 ing and clever juggling with character could 
 blind her to w^hat he w^as at heart. How long 
 was this precious- goodness of his going to last, 
 indeed? Absolutely no telling; and if he should 
 break out again, the last end would be worse 
 than the first, very likely. — And there was 
 still the night, for they could not reach her 
 home till the next day. How could she face an- 
 other night alone in these awful wilds with him. 
 
 For such an abandoned wretch, however, he 
 could present an admirable assumption of inno- 
 cence. His back was turned on her, and kneel- 
 ing in the blazing sun, he was innocuously en- 
 gaged in dipping his head in the spring, whence 
 he had brought the water in that humorous tin 
 cup of his. A most misleading badge, by the 
 way, every thing considered. Oh, it was a pity 
 he was not on the stage, where his acting and 
 his splendid ability to masquerade as something 
 which he was not might be turned to some use- 
 ful account. 
 
 For the first time Myra regarded him with 
 normally critical eyes. She had thought him a 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 133 
 
 heavier, bulkier man, but now bis figure re- 
 vealed a springiness, a virile ease of movement 
 truly graceful. She could see the water glisten- 
 incf on bis bair and sun-burned neck. What a 
 queer assurance of beneficent manly strength 
 radiated from bis person ! A month ago she 
 would have trusted him on sight as a man who«e 
 strength would be her absolute safeguard. 
 
 He was handsome. Full of sleepy resentment 
 at it, she admitted the fact. He had really fine 
 features. The landscape was beginning to swim ; 
 dreams were taking the place of thoughts. If 
 he should really be the good man he pretended 
 to be! He should not be wicked with that face! 
 One heard tales of dual personalities — sup- 
 pose Hardeman and the Sheriff of Wasco were 
 one and the same person. How funny — if this 
 was the Sheriff of Wasco all the time, this same 
 Hardeman — and no one knew it or suspected 
 it but herself! With this airy fancy Myra lost 
 the thread, and slipped away into utter uncon- 
 sciousness. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE RETURN JOURNEY. 
 
 She slept cireamlessly, never moving a muscle 
 or raising one of her dark eyelashes for some 
 hours'. Outlaw or sheriff — whatever he was, 
 he had ceased to exist for her. 
 
 He discovered this state of affairs after it had 
 lasted about ten minutes, and picking up his 
 rifle he advanced cautiously. Amusement and 
 a certain manly tenderness and solicitude strove 
 for mastery in his face as he halted about five 
 feet off from her and there observed her for the 
 first time at his leisure. 
 
 He was troubled with no false modesty. She 
 was no longer awake to snub him with those 
 brilliant blue eyes of hers, so he looked his fill 
 upon her beauty; and as he noted the lovely 
 weary fling of her body, her cheek and dark 
 wind-tossed head resting in tired confidence 
 upon his coat, his amusement died away slowly. 
 Was it fatigue that made her mouth so sweet, 
 he wondered. As she lay there in her utter aban- 
 don of fatigue and dependence she was a sight 
 
 134 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 135 
 
 to stir any man to his centre, and the response 
 she called into the brown keen face of this man 
 was unworthy of the great outlaw Hardeman. 
 Had Myra been awake she would have guessed 
 the truth. He clutched his rifle with a grim 
 gesture, and his gray blue eyes turned away and 
 swept the wide valley with indignant vengeful 
 intent. 
 
 Soon he fonnd it warm standlu:^ there with 
 the noonday sun shining full upon him, and 
 moved to a point in shadow whence he could ob- 
 serve both Myra and the landscape with equal 
 facility. 
 
 Still it was impossible but that she would in- 
 terfere with his vision somewhat. They v.ere 
 alone upon a wild mountain side, he a brown 
 3^oung Westerner, filled to his finger-tips with 
 the vigor and fire of life, and she a lovely woman, 
 his ward, sleeping at his feet in utter depend- 
 ence on him. 
 
 Her dress had suffered in her late experience. 
 The sleeve of muslin and lace w^as torn almost to 
 the shoulder, and the white arm within lay half- 
 revealed in the languor of sleep, caressed by flick- 
 ering leaf shadovrs and full of warm fugitive 
 tints. Invisible tender threads radiated from 
 it to the sentry's eyes and drew them again and 
 again from the horizon and his duty. 
 
 '' What the deuce was he about to tear her 
 
136 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 dress like that?" he soliloquized in a fierce 
 whisper. '' Wish I could get just one good 
 hold of him — and daylight. I'd settle this ac- 
 count o' hers on his dog's hide right off, before 
 we come to Jeff's business." Stirred by the 
 strength of his wrath he fingered the rifle yearn- 
 ingly but unconsciously. 
 
 But varying with all other emotions a look of 
 perplexity was gradually creeping across his 
 face. Once, when after a long, thoughtful scru- 
 tiny of the horizon his gaze returned to Myra, it 
 turned to one of dismay. 
 
 " How am I goin' to get myself out of this 
 here mess anyway? Doggone it, it's gettin' seri- 
 ous. I've been a smart Alec. That's about what 
 I've been. An' plumb in the wrong place. 
 She'll never speak to me again." He looked 
 down at Myra with conviction, and grunted im- 
 patiently. " Serve me right. I've no use for a 
 fool myself." 
 
 From the unpleasantness of this conclusion 
 he could find no comfort apparently; so he took 
 refuge after another interval in natural stub- 
 bornness. 
 
 " Face it out, that's the best way. Get her 
 safe home, and never let on about the change of 
 identity. What's the use? I've got no right to 
 think about love-making with poor Jeff down 
 there in Wasco waitin' to hear from me. Any- 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 137 
 
 way — a poor devil of a sheriff would stand no 
 chance with such a girl as that." He squared 
 himself, and looked sternly beyond a strand of 
 soft, dark hair which the zephyrs had snared 
 upon a button of his coat beneath her head. He 
 swore softly into the zephyrs. '' Tomorrow I'll 
 go after Hardeman I I'll have that satisfaction 
 at least." 
 
 His attention, however, came back quickly to 
 that button on his buckskin coat. The lock of 
 hair still waved there, darkly bright, and the 
 rest of it lav across her body in a heavy dis- 
 heveled braid, just as she had arranged it the 
 day before at her waking of loneliness and fear 
 on the mesa. His eyes rested on it till they grew 
 covetous; but he fled temptation. 
 
 " Handed if I'll touch her while she's asleep. 
 The Sheriff of Wasco ain't playing Hardeman 
 to that extent quite." 
 
 Once when her heavy sleep had grown so deep 
 that even the faint movement of her breathing 
 was imperceptible, he approached quietly. He 
 had seen the phenomenon in exhausted men, 
 but in her it drove him to panic. His bronzed 
 cheek reddened darkly over the sweet intimate 
 outlines of her neck and bosom ere he had satis- 
 fied himself that she was not dead from exhaus- 
 tion in her sleep; then he backed off again pre- 
 cipitately, and once more took up his station as 
 
138 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 groom of the bedchamber, a fine fire alight in 
 the depths of his ejes as they resumed their 
 watch for the evil-doer. 
 
 When the sun hung just above the western 
 rim of the Pacific it was time to awaken her and 
 continue their journey. 
 
 Awakening ladies had not heretofore been 
 much in his line, and for some minutes he de- 
 bated doubtfully how to accomplish it, but fin- 
 ally fell back on that close friend and adviser, 
 his rifle. Audaciously near him, deceived per- 
 haps by his great stillness, a weasel was pin- 
 ning a struggling partridge to the earth. He 
 fired. 
 
 He had not calculated on frightening her so 
 greatly. 
 
 Myra sprang up, sleep and terror battling 
 in her wide-open dazed eyes as they fell on 
 his smoking rifle. A low^, horrified shriek burst 
 from her. 
 
 "■ Oh, what have you done? — where is he? 
 Have you killed him?" she cried, clasping her 
 hands in panic. 
 
 '' Killed whom? " he asked in haste. 
 
 '^ Him — the Sheriff," she whispered, unable to 
 command her voice. 
 
 Dark red flashed into his face. Without a 
 word he walked over and picked up the dead 
 w^easel, presenting it to her with laconic apology. 
 
THE SHERIFF GF WASCO. 139 
 
 " I just wanted to waken you, ma'am." 
 
 Poor Mjra's rapidly clearing mind felt the 
 sharp sting of mortification, which his demeanor 
 in no wise helped. She would have given any- 
 thing to have been a little less hasty in express- 
 ing her conclusions, and being herself in fault, 
 she naturally longed to punish him. 
 
 " Oh — I see. Only a poor little weasel. But 
 of course I — killing things is your strong point, 
 isn't it? " With her blue eyes flashing, and 
 her cheeks a mortified red, she looked as un- 
 pleasant as she possibly could with her natural 
 limitations. 
 
 To her irritation, and great relief, he made 
 no sort of answer. He did not even enlighten 
 her that the weasel had been doing its own 
 killing, but set about preparing supper with an 
 air of patience. Last night Myra knew she 
 would have been grossly insulted. It seemed 
 almost worse to have to take a lesson in polite- 
 ness from such a person. 
 
 She marched over and seated herself on a 
 fallen losj beside the martvred weasel. She 
 wished to be queenly, but felt an annoying sus- 
 picion she was only pert. Then too, her sud- 
 den ill-temper having evaporated, she was aware 
 of a dangerously strong sunny impulse to 
 apologize for it and be a lady. 
 
 What right had he to make her feel humili- 
 
140 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 ated, first with his weasel and then with his as- 
 sumed good manners? He ought to be over- 
 whelmed with contrition for his evil doings, but 
 she was not at all certain that that was the 
 root of his present goodness. Apology was un- 
 necessary and silly, when any one of her men 
 friends would shoot him on sight. She would 
 be polite to him, of course, for the sake of her 
 own dignity as well as safety. For no other 
 reason. It was a little late for him — an outlaw 
 — to put on the airs of a gentleman ; he deceived 
 no one but himself. 
 
 Just here she perceived by the corner of her 
 eye that he was about to fetch her some water; 
 so she arose and, stately, walked down to the 
 spring herself, passing him with a smile as 
 sweet and wintry as sunshine on arctic ice. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, Mr. Hardeman. It isn't 
 necessary to trouble you so,'' she declared; and 
 his unmistakable wincing soothed her self-re- 
 spect greatly. 
 
 " He needn't think he is imposing on me for 
 one minute. I don't forget his other side," she 
 reflected. Involuntarily, as the horrors of the 
 night rolled back on her memory, she shuddered : 
 
 " Mercy, I don't dare to forget it," she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 So, being well fortified in her resentment 
 against him, she proceeded to grace the supper 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 141 
 
 he had prepared on the log. He explained 
 apologetically that they had no tea, as it was inr 
 advisable to light a fire at present. 
 
 "Of course. It might betray you to the 
 Sheriff/' Myra said with unnecessary imperti- 
 nence. 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 Again she felt rebuked. He had developed a 
 surprising hauteur, difficult to pass, but not 
 the less attractive. 
 
 " Miss Thorn, I want to give you some advice,'^ 
 he said, quietly and deliberately, " Don't con- 
 cern yourself so much about that Sheriff. Some 
 day you'll meet him, and then you'll be disap- 
 pointed. I know him. He ain't altogether the 
 man he sets out to be." 
 
 " Oh, indeed," she exclaimed, rather breath- 
 lessly, '^ I haven't the pleasure of knowing him ; 
 but perhaps if he were here you might not ex- 
 press yourself so freely about him. In fact, I 
 don't think you would." 
 
 The fierce pleasure of insulting her compan- 
 ion blinded her to discretion and to the swift 
 changes of expression on his face. 
 
 " He ought to be here, that Sheriff. He set 
 out to rescue you from my clutches, didn't 
 he?" 
 
 "Wait," Myra lauglied confidently. "Men 
 who know him better than you, say he never 
 
142 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 fails. You may yet have the honor of introduc- 
 ing us, Mr. Hardeman '^ 
 
 She checked herself precipitately. That wave 
 of sunburned red that traveled across his face — 
 was it anger? How steady his eyes were. Her 
 own mocking ones dropped startled, and the 
 blood rose unbidden in her cheeks; but when 
 she looked up again his gaze was withdrawn. 
 
 " Living alone in the mountains is apt to give 
 a man a touch of second-sight. You'll meet the 
 Sheriff some day. Do you know what'll happen 
 then? I'm going to tell you if you don't mind.'' 
 
 " Nothing especial, I fancy," she said de- 
 fiantly. '' Why should it? " 
 
 " Because it's so decreed. The Sheriff of 
 Wasco will fall in love with — with a very 
 sweet woman. And then " — he stopped short. 
 
 " Well? " inquired Myra. ^^ Go on, please." 
 
 " I've a notion the Sheriff of Wasco will be a 
 fool for his pains." Myra flashed him a bril- 
 liant, perplexed glance, but his face was a wall. 
 
 " Do you feel rested enough to start now? 
 It's an all-night trail, you know. I'm afraid 
 you're going to be very fatigued again." 
 
 " Yes, I'm ready." She was not quite dumb, 
 though nearly so; but an obscure, astonished, 
 outraged sense helped her out and as she arose, 
 she cast on him a tolerant smile. " Even at the 
 risk you mention, I hope you'll have the chance 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 143 
 
 to introduce the Sheriff to me, Mr. Hardeman." 
 
 And her outlaw bowed. 
 
 In the sunset they renewed their march along 
 the mountain-side. Below them lay the real 
 forest, its green crowns still a sea of westerly 
 light, but with solemn dimness encroaching up- 
 ward from the lesser heights. Under their feet 
 many thousands of dead leaves and tangled col- 
 onies of underbrush testified that here was none 
 of the highways frequented of men. 
 
 Apparently her guard wished to retire into 
 his own thoughts, so Myra was left to her own, 
 perforce. One thing she admitted to herself. 
 She was not afraid of him. She was even com- 
 ing to feel an unwilling, rebellious sort of re- 
 spect for him, absurd as it was under the cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 When he spoke at last it was sudden and dis- 
 concerting. " There ought to be plenty of snakes 
 around here." 
 
 There was a teasing gleam in his eye which 
 Myra failed to see. She had the inborn horror 
 of women for all the reptile family. 
 
 " Snakes," she cried stopping short, lifting her 
 tattered skirts with a switch. "Where? Why 
 didn-t you tell me? " 
 
 " Oh, just 'round here. Don't be scared. I'll 
 see them before thev get a chance to touch you," 
 he answered soothingly. 
 
144 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 " But how do I know you'll see them first? 
 Why didn't you tell me there were snakes here? " 
 she demanded in utter distress. 
 
 As he looked at her, poised for fl^'ght^ her 
 cheeks flushed again with consternation, the 
 slight hauteur faded from his face. 
 
 "' I'm sorry, but I never thought of it till this 
 minute. Don't worry. You shan't be hurt, I'll 
 give you my word. You see I'm so used " 
 
 " Oh, of course you think I'm a perfect cow- 
 ard," protested Myra, ^' but I'm nothing of the 
 kind. I'm just not going another step on this 
 trail. We'll have to go around some other way." 
 
 " But there is no other way." 
 
 ^^ Isn't there? Oh, dear! " Myra looked about 
 in despair. '' Well, I'll sit on the top of that 
 rock then till daylight comes, if you'll help me 
 up, please. I can't go on this way, Mr. Harde- 
 man. I can't and I won't," she entreated. 
 
 " Well but, look here," he began earnestly. 
 
 " I can't and I won't," she repeated feverishly. 
 " Why I might step on one of the awful things 
 — and I should simply die." Her voice was lost 
 in a shudder. ''' Help me over to that rock, 
 
 She would not stir without him because she 
 dared not. There was a moment's fearsome 
 deadlock while they faced each other, and the 
 young man's wits worked rapidly. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 145 
 
 " Well, a rock's a bad place to choose anyway. 
 You'd likely find two or three families under 
 there if you poked 'round. If you'll stand here 
 just a minute I'll investigate a little." 
 
 " Oh ! " shrieked Myra, " — don't ! If you do 
 — if you go near that stone I'll never speak to 
 vou acain. What am I to do?" She glanced 
 wildly all about her, but the silent scenery of- 
 fered no help. ^' I wish — I wish I was back on 
 the mesa," she wailed. 
 
 Her outlaw resolutely crossed the tiny wood- 
 strewn space between them and took her hand 
 reassuringly. 
 
 " Miss Thorn, I will do all that a man can do 
 to protect you — from snakes and every other 
 peril. I promise," he vowed with complete grav- 
 ity* ^^ Come, we'll go deeper into the woods; the 
 old reptiles love these sunny places, you see. Re- 
 member, your father and friends are on the other 
 side, waiting for us." 
 
 " Oh, I remember it." She withdrew her 
 hand, and braced herself to meet the inevitable. 
 " I'm going to step on a snake," she said tremu- 
 lously. " But give me a good stick. Now go on 
 — and do be careful. Oh, I hope you're as 
 sorry for this dreadful business as you ought to 
 be, Mr. Hardeman," she admonished the broad 
 back already leading her into the depths of the 
 forest. 
 
146 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 Some hours more of journeying through dim 
 woodland recesses, of clambering across fallen 
 trees, and forcing a way through undergrowth 
 that defied their passage, and the day-light fil- 
 tering through the tree-tops above grew faint 
 and died. With the darkness a great silence 
 fell, a silence alive with the sounds of unseen 
 life. Yet Myra's escort continued to beat out his 
 way. But now he gave evidence of haste, and he 
 had taken her hand and w^as drawing her stead- 
 ily after him. She w-as content, for the great- 
 ness of the forest, its dim aisles peopled with she 
 knew not what of gaunt shadows and prowling 
 forms, was beginning to chill whatever of nerves 
 the snakes had left her. For the hand of an out- 
 law, that hand with its firm, untroubled grasp 
 inspired her with an extraordinary sense of pro- 
 tection and companionship. 
 
 After a little they emerged upon a clear space, 
 a shallow ravine half filled up by the ages. To 
 Myra's eyes the forest receded indefinitely. 
 Welcome stars gleamed upon her from the deep 
 blue abyss of heaven, and utter silence reigned 
 all about, save for the monotonous whisper of the 
 forest. 
 
 " Oh, let me rest a minute. We've come a 
 hundred miles at least, haven't we? '' 
 
 " About three miles. It might have been eight 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 147 
 
 or nine only for those plagued snakes," was 
 the twitting answer. 
 
 '' I know, but I couldn't help it. Maybe if 
 you hadn't told me, you know — '' said Myra, 
 half apologetically. 
 
 A low, mollified laugh answered : 
 
 " 'Twas certainly my fault, but Til never re- 
 peat the mistake. Don't sit quite so near the 
 edge of those trees, Miss Thorn. Here's a better 
 place out here. Are you verij tired? I've been 
 
 hurrvinsf vou considerablv." 
 
 tot/ * 
 
 He chose a seat better suited to his woodland 
 instinct, beside a high boulder; and following 
 him Myra wondered whether the darkness, 
 which made his form taller and uncertain in out- 
 line, was not also wrapping him in a glamour of 
 romance. His homage was certainly growing 
 very acceptable. She liked the care, the assidu- 
 ous personal care, he was bestowing on her com- 
 fort. While he stood above her, alert and watch- 
 ful, yet feignedly so much at his ease, it vras 
 hard to think of him as an outlaw — abhorred and 
 feared by the countryside and by all good women. 
 In her inmost heart she suddenly wished he was 
 no more than he seemed, a brave man, a courte- 
 ous gentleman. 
 
 The silence which was the cloak of the forest 
 fell upon their voices, weighting them to whis- 
 
148 THE SHEUIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 pers. They might have been forest lovers sitting 
 there beneath the starlight, alone on the wild 
 mountain top. Despite herself, Myra's animos- 
 ity slipped away after her fears. Ever since the 
 morning she had been forced to detain it with 
 both hands. 
 
 '^ The moon will rise in about an hour. Till 
 then we can rest. Hear the rustling of that as- 
 pen tree. Do you know the story of the trem- 
 bling aspens. Miss Thorn? '' 
 
 " No,'' she whispered. In the same tone, al- 
 most a whisper, he recounted the Indian legend 
 of the aspen trees that fell in love with the snows 
 on the mountain's summit. Climbing upward 
 they preferred to shiver and tremble all the live- 
 long summer for love's sake, rather than remain 
 with the other trees in the valley and be exiled 
 from love. 
 
 Myra listened with the same feeling of be- 
 wilderment she had experienced that morning. 
 He was altogether inexplicable; and the glimpses 
 of goodness she had seen in him, together with 
 her gratitude and true womanhood, pointed out 
 to her a duty. 
 
 " Mr. Hardeman," she essayed timidly, " I 
 don't exactly understand you always, but I want 
 to say that you've been very kind — extremely 
 kind — to me since this morning, and I appre- 
 ciate it." 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 149 
 
 There was no answer, but the figure beside 
 her made a slight movement. 
 
 Mvra's upturned face was like a pale night 
 flower; her eyes shone darkly like benevolent 
 stars as she went on : 
 
 " I may not see you again, so please don't re- 
 sent this. I wish you weren't — I do wish you'd 
 be a better man, Mr. Hardeman. I v^ant you to 
 be better. Father '11 speak to the Governor, and 
 I'll be happy to do all I can to help. Won't 
 you promise me? " 
 
 To her consternation he swooped down in si- 
 lence, gathered her in a mighty grasp and swung 
 her upward to the top of the boulder. Draw- 
 ing his revolver from her belt where it had lain 
 all day he thrust it into her hands. 
 
 '' Take it, and whatever you see don't stir. 
 Don't come down." His hands clung to the 
 touch of hers, and his tone set her heart leap- 
 ing helplessly. " Believe me — I would promise 
 and I would do, anything in the world for your 
 sake." 
 
 Immediately, before she could gasp an answer, 
 he advanced rifle in hand a pace or two before 
 her with his face turned toward the forest. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE. 
 
 Straining her eyes in the same direction, 
 Mvra remained palpitating on the boulder. The 
 forest seemed one impenetrable black wall, 
 threatening everywhere alike. But after a mo- 
 ment or two she caught a sound, the sharp crack 
 of dead wood; the underbrush rustled loudly as 
 if in the grasp of a high wind, then dead silence 
 prevailed once more. 
 
 Fear got the better of every other emotion in 
 Myra. 
 
 '' What is it? '' she breathed. 
 
 " Some animal. Don't be alarmed. We're 
 ready for him," he answered without turning his 
 head. 
 
 The silence continued. Somewhere at the edge 
 of the thicket undefined wild eyes had them un- 
 der observation. Perhaps because these humans 
 standing in the starlight were two, or perhaps 
 because of the warlike attitude of one of them, 
 the intruder was taking counsel with caution. 
 
 Not for long, however. A louder crackle of 
 
 150 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 151 
 
 dead branches, then a heavy footfall that scorned 
 the need of strategy, and with a movement like 
 lightning the man's arms went up; fire spouted 
 from the unseen rifle, and the silence fled re- 
 verberating. 
 
 Myra saw the forest w^all give up a huge dark 
 body, which rolled swiftly in their direction, 
 emitting grunts and roars of rage. Fire flashed 
 and flashed from the rifle without checking the 
 advance, while the hillside and forest took up the 
 clamor vociferously. As the animal came out 
 into the open the man looked small beside him. 
 Myra closed her teeth on a shriek as she saw^ it. 
 She was learned enough in forest lore to recog- 
 nize a grizzly, and a big one. 
 
 The bear was badly hurt, though not vitally, 
 and full of fight. One of the shots had lodged 
 in his flank, partly laming him, but he came on 
 like a catapult toward his enemy. The rifle was 
 silent, w^hile the man, motionless, covering the 
 girl's position with his, awaited the favorable 
 moment to shoot. Then once again, as the bear 
 rose, growling frightfully, his wicked eyes 
 gleaming, and with huge arms extended, a spurt 
 of flame leaped from the rifle. 
 
 A roar of pain and fury burst from the 
 wounded animal's throat. Shaking his head 
 fiercely he dropped to all fours for a moment 
 Myra heard a strong voice ring out cheerfully: 
 
152 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 " That was a good one. Are jou all right? " 
 
 " Yes. Don't worry about me/' she cried fever- 
 ishly. ^^Oh '' 
 
 The bear was up on his hind feet again, higher 
 than the man, and of thrice his bulk, his jaws 
 agape and running with white foam and blood. 
 The stench of his great body was well nigh un- 
 bearable. It seemed that the man must surely 
 be overwhelmed unless he moved. But again 
 with the rifle muzzle almost touching the huge 
 throat, he fired. A mighty cuff from one of the 
 big paws reached him as the bear came crash- 
 ing down, and the two rolled to the earth simul- 
 taneously, and the weapon upon which the man 
 and woman depended for safety was knocked far 
 beyond reach. 
 
 Not a scream, but a stifled little gasp, came 
 from the boulder's top. The man nimbly re- 
 gained his feet, but there was no time for any- 
 thing but his hunting-knife and he struck again 
 and again, but could not reach a vital spot, 
 while his agility alone kept him beyond reach of 
 the deadly claws. 
 
 He might have worked towards his rifle, but 
 he would not leave the boulder uncovered. To 
 the mind of the girl above him came flashing the 
 memory of the previous night. Tlien she would 
 
 have wished him dead. But now . With a 
 
 white face and muscles all tense she grasped the 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 153 
 
 revolver, but she could not pull the trigger ; her 
 hand was stiff and palsied. Her arm trembled, 
 and the stars in the glimmering heavens seemed 
 to move, as before a screen. Her heart heaved 
 and she felt herself weakening. With a despair- 
 ing cry she let the weapon slip down from her 
 hand. 
 
 " Get it," she cried hoarsely, " the Colt." 
 He stood below her, quivering with the lust of 
 battle. As the bear lunged forward, mouth 
 agape and arms swinging ahead of its lumber- 
 ing body, he side-stepped and brought his arm 
 forward in a circle, burying the knife into the 
 smoking body. Then, quick as thought, he bent 
 and kicked the revolver before him, and darting 
 beyond the animal stooped and secured it. But 
 the great hulk was now standing over him ; the 
 hot breath was rushing past his face and the 
 odor of blood and animal thickened the air. As 
 the grizzly's arms swung over him he ducked, 
 but they closed upon him. With his left arm 
 crooked to protect his face and neck in the 
 deadly embrace, his right brought the Colt's 
 muzzle to the reeking body. A flash, another 
 and another; the muffled sounds of the shots 
 rose faintly to*Myra's ears, and then she beheld 
 the great mountain of flesh and muscle fall over 
 the man, and saw the red dripping tongue curl 
 on the great white teeth in a spasmodic move- 
 
154 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 ment, and the giant clawed arms relax. Next 
 instant the man pulled himself free, and jump- 
 ing back, stumbled breathlessly toward her, 
 bloody and pale, his chest heaving and his whole 
 lithe body quivering with the strain. 
 
 '' God," he whispered, *^ you saved us with that 
 revolver." 
 
 '' Lift me down," she whispered back weakly- 
 And he reached up and slowly and carefully 
 lowered her. 
 
 But the strain had been terrible. As her feet 
 touched the ground she clung to him for a mo- 
 ment, white lipped and dizzy and trembling. 
 Then softly and limply she slipped through his 
 hands to the ground and covered her face. 
 
 ^'Ohl what a fight,'' she sobbed, "What an 
 awful, awful monster. When he got those big 
 arms round you, I thought we were both gone. 
 Are you sure you're not hurt anywhere? " 
 
 She raised her eyes, large and sweet with 
 solicitude, and questioned him. Fear had torn 
 off all conventions and left her just a woman, 
 with a woman's mission to comfort and heal the 
 man who had fought for her. 
 
 " I've nothing to show but the blood I guess," 
 he answered smiling. " But I must find water. 
 Shall I fetch you some here, or ? " 
 
 Myra sprang up, an April smile hastily chas- 
 ing off the tears. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 155 
 
 " No, no, I'll wait on myself. Goodness, you 
 don't think I'd let you out of my sight for one 
 minute, do you? There might be more griz- 
 zlies." 
 
 So, a dilapidated but friendly pair, they set 
 out to look for a spring. 
 
 They found one just as the moon was coming 
 up, fair and silvery, flooding the face of the silent 
 wilds with light. 
 
 He, true cavalier still, must needs satisfy her 
 thirst first, and then, while he cleansed away 
 the signs of battle, she stood near and waited, 
 comrade like. She no longer thought and ar- 
 gued with herself. He had escaped. She felt 
 a singular gladness over the fact, mingling with 
 the joyous sense that he had established a right 
 to her respect as well. 
 
 Following this adventure they kept carefully 
 to the heights, with the silvered, treacherous for- 
 est lying asleep below them. 
 
 Once when they had travelled a long way in 
 silence, he pulled up quite suddenly with a 
 smothered exclamation. Drawing out his re- 
 volver he glanced at its loaded chambers and 
 handed it to her. 
 
 " I forgot you wanted to carry this," he 
 said. 
 
 Myra's face grew hot. But as her upraised 
 startled glance met his for an instant, a baffling 
 
156 THE SHERIFF OF WA8C0. 
 
 something she saw lying deep in his eyes moved 
 her to take the weapon quietly from him. 
 
 ''It's a useful little toy, isn't it?" she said, 
 raising the murderous revolver admiringly till 
 it gleamed in the moonlight, '' — when it's in 
 proper hands," she added. '' It's heavy, too. 
 Won't you kindly carry it for me, Mr. Harde- 
 man? " And she handed it back, while all her 
 woman's dignity and sweetness were in the 
 smile she gave him. 
 
 He gravely restored the weapon to its place. 
 " Remember you may have it any time you wish," 
 he said, quite unembarrassed. 
 
 As they walked along Myra was not wholly 
 sure how she had come out of the episode. Such 
 queer sensitiveness about honor in an outlaw ! 
 But her respect for him, which had been creep- 
 ing upward all day, mounted defiantly, and she 
 felt strangely happier for her vote of confidence 
 in him. 
 
 At midnight he stopped their march, and hav- 
 insr found her a comfortable nook he once more 
 seated himself at her feet and drew out the slen- 
 der remnant of food from his wallet. Presently, 
 with a smile in which many feelings strove 
 for expression, regret being chief, he looked 
 up: 
 
 "Just about sunrise you'll be taking break- 
 fast at home in Hilltown, Miss Thorn." 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 157 
 
 "Oh, shall I?" said Myra joyfully, and then 
 silence seemed to clip the words short. 
 
 " Your father will be glad," he said without 
 spirit. 
 
 " Dear old Daddy, I guess he will,'' said Myra, 
 smiling, but thoughtful. 
 
 '' You'll be safe out of Hardeman's clutches, 
 too. I don't ask if you'll be glad. It isn't neces- 
 sary," he pursued. 
 
 ]Uyra's silence read like assent. Meeting it, 
 he struck the turf viciously with his hunting 
 knife. 
 
 " I was wondering what yoii are going to do 
 at sunrise, Mr. Hardeman," she said softly at 
 last. 
 
 In a dim way, and to relieve an undefined 
 heartache in herself, Myra had the missionary 
 idea in mind again. But a glance from the gray- 
 blue eyes shot to hers and she felt as though she 
 had encountered a lightning bolt. 
 
 " I'm going to follow that advice you were 
 giving me to-night when the grizzly struck us. 
 — Remember? It was good advice — for Harde- 
 man or any man," he answered. 
 
 Myra remembered distinctly — several things 
 about that incident, and she forsook the mission- 
 ary idea. 
 
 " Y^ou've been following it very nicely, I think, 
 
 ^ >> 
 
158 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 she said, lier face warm, and her ejes a little re- 
 buking. 
 
 Two or three minutes elapsed. Myra was 
 striving helplessly not to acknowledge a bond, 
 which she felt growing in the silence. He pur- 
 sued: 
 
 " There's my friend, the Sheriff. You'll see 
 him. Of course you'll put him on my trail, I 
 suppose." 
 
 Apparently he was intently studying the hori- 
 zon. Or so thought Myra. 
 
 '^ Why do you suppose that? " she demanded 
 uncertainly. 
 
 " It's your duty. — Besides you have other 
 reasons," he said slowly and distinctly. 
 
 Despite her surprise and irritation Myra felt 
 that she must be judicial. He should not have 
 dragged the difficulty of her position into the 
 light like that — in that reckless, sardonic way 
 of his. 
 
 ^' Yes, it is my duty. But you said just now 
 you would follow — you said you'd reform," she 
 reminded him. 
 
 " That won't cut any ice with the Sheriff." 
 
 ^^ But you will keep the promise," she insisted 
 entreatingly. " You see I don't have to take any 
 man's ideas of right and wrong — not even the 
 big Sheriff of Wasco's," said Myra, with slight 
 asperity on the name. 
 
TEE SEERIFF OF WASCO. 159 
 
 She did not see his look of triumph. By great 
 art he had diverted her loyalty from a man's 
 name to a man — himself It was right that he 
 should penitently and humbly whisper as he took 
 her hand. 
 
 '^ I will keep my promise. You make me 
 deeply ashamed of myself, Miss Thorn." 
 
 Just after daybreak he showed her through the 
 trees a long, low cabin, the sight of which seemed 
 strange, and yet oddly familiar. Two or three 
 men were moving briskly about it. 
 
 " Why — the patrol ! " burst forth Myra de- 
 lightedly. 
 
 " Certainly ; the patrol. The bunch that's out 
 looking for me, you know," he supplemented. 
 His face was alight with smiling daredeviltry. 
 " Miss Thorn, give them my kindest regards, 
 won't you? I guess I'll go no further." 
 
 " Oh, don't joke about it," cried Myra. She 
 surveyed him with a pained and doubtful look. 
 Then she gave him her hand, regret and pity, and 
 other things she knew not of in her blue eyes. 
 
 " Qoodbye," she whispered ^' — goodbye, and 
 thank you. I'm so sorry. I hope some day I 
 shall meet you again as a good citizen, Mr. 
 Hardeman." 
 
 " When next you see Hardeman he'll be a 
 much better citizen. Miss Thorn, I promise," he 
 answered in a voice most gentle and enigmatic 
 
160 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 " Goodbye." Bareheaded he bowed over her 
 hand and kissed it, and next moment had van- 
 ished among the trees, unsatisfactory to the last. 
 
 But for no great distance however. Strongly 
 disgusted with himself he stood concealed and 
 watched her progress, noting that once she stop- 
 ped to look backward hesitatingly. 
 
 " Scalp me for an idiot,'' he muttered heart- 
 ily. " Hang my wall-eyed sense of humor. I've 
 had my joke and what's the result? Simply 
 I've fooled her into believing she was influ- 
 encing that profligate Hardeman for good, — and 
 she'll never forgive me when she learns the 
 truth." Here Myra stopped to give that sad 
 little backward look, and his eyes glowed. 
 " She's the one woman, all right. — I'd go down 
 on my knees to her, but it wouldn't help me 
 any." His hand unconsciously wandered to his 
 hip, where the revolver's touch recalled him. A 
 gleam of satisfaction and hatred lit the smold- 
 ering disgust of his countenance. " I'll start 
 after that unholy reprobate right nov/, and make 
 him pay," he hoarsely articulated. 
 
 As Myra disappeared and he swung back to- 
 ward the trail a further consideration came to 
 cheer him. 
 
 " I switched her off the Sheriff of Wasco, 
 however." A grin of delight parted his lips. 
 " Darned if I didn't get jealous of my own self 
 hearing her talk about the Sheriff.'^ 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE SHERIFF UNDER FIRE. 
 
 Great was the rejoicing when Myra, ragged 
 and exhausted, was escorted into Hiiltown by 
 the big, tender, indignant patrolmen into whose 
 care she had been committed. 
 
 She met her father as he was about to head 
 another expedition to go in search of her. Poor 
 Mr. Thorn had returned post-haste to Hiiltown 
 the moment the news had reached him, making 
 the long, arduous journey on horseback; and 
 had instantly thrown all his energies into the 
 gathering and organizing of search parties. Men 
 had come from far and near at his call, eager in 
 their offers of help and sympathy ; for the name 
 of Hardeman was one at which all the region 
 arose with angry threats of vengeance. 
 
 The old gentleman met his daughter and her 
 patrolmen escort quite unexpectedly. All Hill- 
 town witnessed the pathetic meeting, and added 
 its tears to theirs in pure appreciation of the 
 joy of the occasion; afterwards scattering to its 
 cabins to discuss the strange momentous fact 
 
 161 
 
162 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 that Myra had been brought back quite un- 
 harmed. 
 
 With Captain Butts and his men especially 
 it was a subject of wise speculation. Many 
 theories were advanced to account for it, as the 
 puzzled shifts sat around the camp fire and 
 talked of Hardeman's sudden and unaccount- 
 able goodness. 
 
 " Think of his cheek, fetchin' her right to the 
 edge of this here clearin'. Tell you he got rat- 
 tled,'' said Jenks of Oregon. " He got wind that 
 the Sheriff o' Wasco was on his tracks an' 
 thought he'd square himself." 
 
 " Course he did. The Sheriff sent him a 
 telegram through the Devil's Pass to say he 
 was comin ! " growled Jones sarcastically. 
 
 " Well, give us your opinion, Mr. Jones, if 
 you're such a wise guy," retorted Jenks, net- 
 tled. 
 
 ^' Ain't got no opinion. It's too blamed in- 
 tricate for me." 
 
 '' Well, I have. I'll bet you that there Sheriff 
 had something to do with it." 
 
 " Shucks ! You've got sheriff on the brain, 
 Jenks. Didn't she say 'twas Hardeman as 
 brought her back? She'd oughter know, I 
 s'pose." 
 
 " Maybe. I ain't so sure. What I'd like to 
 know is this," and Jenks pointed his pipe across 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 163 
 
 the fire at Jones, who sat on the other side, — 
 ^* why ain't we heard nothin' from that Sheriff 
 yet? It's been two days an' a couple o' nights 
 since he polished off Bill an' Dutch here. Now 
 what d' you s'pose he's been doin' meanwhile? 
 Washin' cobwebs off'n the sky? " 
 
 " Nit I " retorted Jones, disgustedly. " Maybe 
 he's dead." 
 
 ^' Maybe he ain't. Have you taken into con- 
 sideration in that there profuse gray matter of 
 your top-knot that this here Sheriff looks a 
 heap like Hardeman, an' that there might be 
 some sort of a shuffle in the cyards." 
 
 " That's the looniest proposition ever w^as pro- 
 mulgated outside of a bug-house, Jenks. You're 
 off. You've got Sheriff o' Wasco in yer attic." 
 
 ^' Maybe I have," assented Jenk good-na- 
 turedly, " but there's got to be some sort of an ex- 
 planation as fits the case. That there Harde- 
 man never would give up a woman like Miss 
 Thorn unharmed an' alive; an' you fellows know 
 that quite well." 
 
 There was much truth in Jenks' remarks and 
 the mystery certainly was deep. 
 
 Next evening Bill Thomas and Dutch, who had 
 gone into Hilltown, returned to the circle round 
 the camp fire with the startling news that the 
 man who brought Miss Thorn home had worn a 
 visored cap. 
 
164 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 ^* He did, eh? Who told you?" inquired 
 Butts. 
 
 " Her father did. He's lookin' fer a man an- 
 swerin' to that description. Me an' Dutch had 
 a notion we was lookin' fer him too, but we 
 didn't say nothin' ! " ventured Thomas. 
 
 Jenks sprang up. '' What did I tell you? 
 Who's got trouble in their attic now? Seems 
 to me that this here congregation stands con- 
 victed. You wouldn't recognize the possibilities 
 o' that Sheriff — you wouldn't, you set o' peanut 
 brains." 
 
 " Shut up, Jenks. You're liable to bust yer 
 gall, excitin' yerself like that," said Butts. 
 " This outlaw Hardeman wore a mask when he 
 took Miss Thorn away, didn't he? " 
 
 ^' Suppose he did ! " retorted Jenks sarcastic- 
 ally, " then would he be liable ter throw it off 
 a coming back, like this gentleman who returned 
 with her done? And would he be liable to wear 
 a visored cap? That there roofing belongs to 
 the Sheriff o' Wasco, sure as thunder." 
 
 " You're dead right," cried Butts, " You're 
 dead right, Jenks — and it becomes this here lay- 
 out sure, to see that this Sheriff gets received 
 according to Hoyle when he sticks his foot-prints 
 in this camp again." 
 
 The men were not slow to appreciate what 
 their captain had said. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 165 
 
 " We'll make him confess all about it," yelled 
 
 one. 
 
 "We'll make the sly Sheriff cavort around 
 like one of them there yaller-haired soubretties 
 on the stage over in Seattle," cried another. 
 
 " We'll ask him why — we will," chorused the 
 the crowd. They were all happy at a chance to 
 vent their grim humor on the unsuspecting 
 Sheriff; and they got up from around the camp 
 fire and walked about in groups here and there, 
 discussing plans how best to make the sinner re- 
 pent. 
 
 Butts was standing with Jenks and Jones near 
 the fire when suddenly they became aware of the 
 presence of a stranger near them. At the same 
 moment everyone in camp saw him, and instinct- 
 ively they closed around him. He was standing 
 facing Captain Butts, the fire-light illumining 
 his tanned and handsome face. His Winchester 
 was grounded, its barrel resting in his left hand. 
 Upon his head was a visored cap, cocked slightly 
 backward in challenging attitude. He looked 
 keenly at Butts and then his voice rang out, 
 melodious and pleasant. 
 
 " I'm a stranger hereabouts, gentlemen. 
 Which one is Jenks of Oregon, an old acquaint- 
 ance of mine?— And is this Captain Butts of the 
 patrol T" 
 
 He odranced a step towards the group as he 
 
166 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 spoke, his eyes twinkling and his face bearing 
 a half-quizzical smile. 
 
 Jenks stepped forward in an instant. 
 
 '' Sheriff/' he cried. " Fm darned glad to see 
 you. This here is Captain Butts.'' 
 
 They shook hands vigorously and a subdued 
 growl of w^elcome rang from the men. " The 
 Sheriff of Wasco/' they cried, " the Sheriff, for 
 sure." 
 
 Then every man was personally introduced 
 to the new arrival. Dutch and Thomas hung 
 back to the last, but the boys began to laugh, 
 and they ambled forward and took the Sheriff's 
 proffered hand. There was a moment of strained 
 suspense, then the Sheriff drew his Colt care- 
 lessly and glancing at its chambers and at his 
 belt remarked directly to Dutch and Thomas: 
 
 " Do either of you boys happen to have a few 
 cartridges you can spare? I'm short." 
 
 In the great woodlands and mountains of the 
 West, to ask for and obtain a few cartridges was 
 really often a mark of friendship. The favor 
 w^as seldom refused, and never asked where there 
 was much danger of refusal. 
 
 Dutch and Thomas instantly unbuckled their 
 belts : " Here, Sheriff, you can have the cart- 
 ridges and the guns too, if your'n is outer order." 
 
 "Nope," smiled the Sheriff, "no, thanks, my 
 45's all right," but he stooped and pulled a few 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 167 
 
 cartridges from both belts and placed them in 
 his own. 
 
 Dutch and Thomas felt keenly honored. Thej 
 forgot about the licking they had had, and all the 
 other boys, watching closely and uncertainly, 
 suddenly realized that the Sheriff was a diplo- 
 mat. 
 
 They grinned, and Miguel the Italian turned 
 to the man next to him. 
 
 '' Thata Sheriff is a slicka gentaman," he 
 whispered. 
 
 But somehow, in spite of the visitor's friendli- 
 ness, they did not find it so easy to quiz him as 
 they had anticipated. It was the gigantic Jones, 
 sprawling on his stomach bej'ond the fire, who 
 finally raised a pair of shrewd, humorous eyes 
 to the guest's face and broached the important 
 question. 
 
 " Say, Sheriff, us boys has got a argyment w^e'd 
 like to have you referee, if you don't mind. We'd 
 like to know the name o' the man as brung Miss' 
 Myra back home.'' 
 
 The Sheriff seemed unconscious that twenty- 
 four gleaming eyes were leveled like Colts at his 
 face. He looked innocently surprised. 
 
 " Why, she says herself 'twas Hardeman, don't 
 she? Where's yer argument? I don't catch on." 
 
 " Yes, she says 'twas Hardeman. But, from 
 certain matters what you might call circumstan- 
 
168 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 tial evidence, this camp is led to the belief she 
 don't know who it was. We surmised as how 
 you might be able to enlighten us." 
 
 " Can't do it, boys — sorry," said the Sheriff, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 " Can't ! That surely is a disapp'intment to us, 
 ain't it, boys? " said Jones, looking round the 
 circle. " By all accounts now, this here Harde- 
 man is plumb gentlemanly when he takes the 
 notion. You hadn't oughter shoot him, Sheriff, 
 he's too good." 
 
 " Real sociable an' perlite, he is." 
 
 " Belongs in a Sunday school." 
 
 " He ain't no real outlaw," came in sarcastic 
 chorus. Jones' jaws worked monotonously on 
 a quid of tobacco, but his eyes never wandered 
 from the Sheriff's face. 
 
 " You see," he resumed slowly, " that outlaw 
 as brung her back — pervided he's the same as 
 took her off — wore some sort of a cap on his 
 dome o' thinks. That's sorter unusual arounc? 
 here." 
 
 " Hardeman comes from Wasco," was the in 
 stant retort. " We sell caps down there, boys.^' 
 
 A dozen unbelieving grins passed round th& 
 fire. " Caps or no caps, it's hard work to sell 
 this here camp," began Butts. " There's only 
 one thing I don't like 'bout this rescuin' busi- 
 ness," he mused, his eyes twinkling. " Allowin^ 
 
TEE SEERIFF OF WASCO. 169 
 
 as Hardeman reformed an' did bring her back, 
 he didn't have no right to kiss her when he said 
 good-bye. That's scand'lous." 
 
 In a flash the Sheriff turned on Butts. " It's 
 a lie, he didn't kiss her," he said quietly but 
 furiously. 
 
 '' How do you know? " drawled Butts. " Was 
 you there? " 
 
 But the crowd leaped up and piled onto the 
 Sheriff, who instantly perceived his fatal mis- 
 take. 
 
 " We're on. Sheriff, we're on," roared the men. 
 " Own up. Be a man," and they grabbed him 
 and raised him on high on a stump. " Speech, 
 vou son of a sun ! " they cried. " Tell us all 
 about it. Enlighten this here congregation." 
 
 The Sheriff w^as stage struck. '' I realize," he 
 began, — " you're on." 
 
 ^'Quit kiddin'. Sheriff," they bawled, "'an 
 tell us why you hid your light under a bushel. 
 Why didn't you tell her who you was?" 
 
 The young man on the stump looked defence- 
 less for the first time in his adventurous life. 
 
 " Say, boys, go easy on him. Maybe he's in 
 love," said Butts facetiously. 
 
 " Nothing o' the sort," retorted the Sheriff, 
 red in the face. " I didn't tell her because — well 
 I had certain reasons o' my own that w^ouldn't 
 appeal to your profound judgments. Anyway 
 
170 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 what was the use o' tellin' her. I ain't anythin' 
 except a poor six hundred dollar sheriff from 
 Wasco." 
 
 " In love, sure/' muttered the crowd, " he's 
 plumb locoed." 
 
 Butts explained. " He means, boys, she's a 
 millionaire's daughter, an' his six hundred dol- 
 lars don't give him much chance, but he's got 
 hopes. He's hit sure." 
 
 a ^^e're with you. Sheriff, we're with you," 
 they chorused heartily. 
 
 But as the Sheriff began to answer, a shot 
 rang out in the distance. He turned half round 
 on the giant stump and brought his hand heavily 
 to his side. Then he pitched forward into the 
 arms of his new-found friends below. 
 
 " Hell ! " came in furious emphasis from the 
 crowd, *' he's hit." 
 
 They lowered him carefully to the ground. 
 But reaching for his weapon he raised himself 
 to his knees and faced the distant woods 
 from w^hence had come the shot. His face was 
 lighted with a vengeful fury and weakly he 
 staggered to his feet. 
 
 " Stop him," they cried as one man, " he's hard 
 hit," and they surrounded him while he strug- 
 gled fiercely to shake them off and be free, his 
 hand pressing savagely against the bleeding 
 wound in his side. Then suddenly his face grew 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 171 
 
 white; thej overpowered him and he sank back 
 weakly into their arms with a last glance of dy- 
 in"- fire towards the covert that concealed his 
 foe. 
 
 " That was Hardeman's speech you got, boys ; 
 a far better one than mine," he w^hispered in 
 baffled rage, and then lapsed into unconscious- 
 ness. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A HARDENED SINNER. 
 
 They carried the wounded man to a small 
 cabin adjoining the main one, known as the 
 " Sick House," where they succeeded in staunch- 
 ing the flow of blood and in bringing the Sheriff 
 back to consciousness. 
 
 They realized that it was well-nigh hopeless to 
 try and capture the outlaw, but still a detach- 
 ment started vigorously after him. Not, how- 
 ever, before it was firmly understood that no one 
 should mention the Sheriff of Wasco's presence 
 in the camp. Butts realized that the moral ef- 
 fect on the settlement would be bad if the true 
 facts were known, and he commanded silence 
 as to the identity of the injured man. 
 
 It sufficed that a man had been " accident- 
 ally " shot at the camp ; and thus was the story 
 promulgated. 
 
 That night a physician by the name of Backer 
 came in response to Butts' earnest call. He 
 probed the wound by the light of a lantern and, 
 aided by two of the men, operated upon the 
 Sheriff and removed the bullet. Then witb 
 
 172 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 173 
 
 painstaking care he dressed it with spick-and- 
 span white sterilized gauzes and other modern 
 products which proved the advance of civiliza- 
 tion even in these remote corners of the conti- 
 nent. By this time the Sheriff was as sick as 
 a man need be, for he had refused to take an 
 anaesthetic, preferring to chew on a piece of 
 bandage and keep an eye on the manipulations of 
 the surgeon. The Sheriff had never been sick 
 before in his life, and the suffering he under- 
 went on account of one little bullet was a new 
 experience and a revelation to him. 
 
 One day the doctor came unexpectedly upon 
 Mr. John Thorn and his daughter on the high- 
 way. The assurance that the outlaw had been 
 followed far to the south-east had done much to 
 quiet all fears, and Myra was again seen about 
 the trails and the cabins of Hilltown. She had 
 been quite seriously affected by her late fear- 
 ful experience, but, thanks to the thousand 
 kindnesses showered upon her, and to Doctor 
 Backer's good care, she was beginning to be her 
 own self again. 
 
 She spied the physician coming slowly along 
 the highway atop of his well cared for horse, 
 and hastened ahead to meet him. 
 
 "Doctor, how's the sick patrolman, the one 
 who got shot?'' she inquired with sympathy in 
 her voice and face. 
 
174 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 Now the doctor was in the secret up at the 
 camp, and he sympathized greatly with the 
 Sheriff, especially as he knew Miss Thorn; he 
 decided therefore that he was on delicate ground. 
 
 " Oh, he's fine. Just got shot up a little . He'll 
 soon be well now." 
 
 ^' But you've been riding a score of miles every 
 day for a fortnight to see him," she said, smiling 
 doubtfully. '' I'm afraid you're not telling me 
 the facts. Doctor. Which of them is it? I know 
 them all." 
 
 " I never was good on names," said Dr. 
 Backer, shaking his head and trying to move 
 off. " It's a bad fault of mine. Always remem- 
 ber a face, though." 
 
 ^^ Well I'll go up there to-morrow and find 
 out," she cried after him. " Those poor fellows 
 never get any proper attentions w^hen they're 
 sick — except what you give them of course." 
 
 Dr. Backer instantly reined in his horse and 
 looked sober. There was danger that the Sheriff 
 would receive a call unless he managed things 
 better. He was not sure what the consequences 
 would be. 
 
 " No, no ; you couldn't go near the fellow. 
 He's a villainous looking object. It wouldn't 
 be safe, by thunder; he is as delirious as a hat- 
 pin," remonstrated the doctor. 
 
 Myra laughed. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 175 
 
 " Oh, no. He's fine. He'll soon be well now — 
 YOU said so yourself. Now I know he's very bad, 
 and I'm going anyway." She shook her finger 
 at his concerned face. ^^ Why, Doctor, you 
 couldn't deceive even poppa. — And he's easy," 
 she said tenderly, as she took her protesting 
 parent's arm and they walked off together. 
 
 The doctor went his way, laughing to himself. 
 
 " She'll go, if she's a woman. And I ain't all 
 sorry either. There's an' interesting time com- 
 ing for the Sheriff, I guess. It's up to him now." 
 
 Next day Myra — now always carryins: a re- 
 yolyer — took the stage to camp, intent upon 
 yisiting the injured woodman. Such visits were 
 not unusual in the past; she had never hesi- 
 tated to help any of the men or the women in 
 those lonely regions, who were really danger- 
 ously ill. Now more then ever she owed her 
 gratitude to her friends the patrolmen, who had 
 done their best to save her. 
 
 When she arrived in camp on this particular 
 day the place was literally asleep. Butts and 
 the night shift were in the main cabin, and only 
 Yang Foo was awake. 
 
 He came trotting to meet " Miss Tornee," di- 
 vining that she had come to see the sick man, 
 and innocently believing that she knew he was 
 the famous Sheriff of Wasco. Yang Foo wished 
 to be polite and gentlemanly, and neither he nor 
 
176 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 his mate supposed the caution they had received 
 concerning the sufferer's identity included the 
 lady who was such a vitally interested party. 
 So Yang Foo kow-towed, and pointing to the 
 hospital cabin sing-songed : 
 
 " He velly bladly smashee. He gottee go to 
 flunelal." 
 
 " Poor man ! Let me see him, Yang Foo. Tell 
 him Miss Thorn w^ants to see him." 
 
 ^^ Yes I slayee,'' nodded Foo as he scurried off 
 to the sick man. He fully believed Myra had 
 come to thank the Sheriff for saving her, and not 
 for a moment would he, Yang Foo, keep a lady 
 away who had come so far on such a mission. 
 
 He appeared before the convalescent, grinning 
 all over. 
 
 " She comee.'' 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco turned and raised him- 
 self on his elbow and eyed the Chinaman suspici- 
 ously. 
 
 ^^ She!— who's she?" 
 
 Foo grinned harder than ever. " She ! she 
 comee longee ; she wantee talkee Sheliff Wasco." 
 
 " She wants to talk with the Sheriff of Wasco, 
 does she? She came a long way, did she? " 
 
 The Sheriff meditated. There was a girl 
 away back in Wasco once, who had with remark- 
 ably good taste been smitten with him, but whom 
 he had carefully tried to avoid to prevent a scene. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. Ill 
 
 He Lad not seen her for years, but he dreaded 
 her attentions, and hearing that she had moved 
 Korth about a year before, he had felt some un- 
 easiness. He was doubly uneasy now. 
 
 He caught Foo by the collar of his blouse and 
 whispered : " Tell the lady I'm an Italian, and 
 don't know her. Tell her I'm dying." 
 
 Yang Foo thought this singular, but he toddled 
 out and told Myra that the Italian was dying. 
 
 The tears came to the girl's eyes as she gently 
 tiptoed towards the cabin, and cautiously looked 
 into the gloom. 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco saw her and realized 
 instantly that something must be done. This 
 was the girl he loved, though he loved her with- 
 out hope, knowing his own poor place in the 
 world's affairs. Besides, all the reasons, wise or 
 foolish, that had prevented him before from de- 
 claring himself to her were still in force; and 
 therefore he brought himself to a sudden and 
 marvellously quick realization that he had bet- 
 ter be Hardeman again. He must stifle the grow- 
 ing flame of love that had kindled in his breast ; 
 he must be strong; he must away with the idea. 
 His sphere in life was one that could not and 
 should not touch hers. 
 
 His lips moved as he saw her face peering at 
 him from the doorway. It was a face showing 
 the shadow of her late experience, and gentle 
 
178 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 with human kindness. It was beautiful and 
 sweet, and it radiated the spirit of young 
 womanhood. 
 
 " Miss Thorn — come in ! " he said in a voice 
 of mingled surprise and joy. 
 
 She hesitated at the curious accent. It was 
 familiar certainly, and just as certainly not that 
 of any ordinary Italian. And its owner was not 
 dying — that was a blunder on Yang Foo's part 
 evidently. She stepped past the threshold and 
 gazed at the invalid; then she stepped back in 
 fright and amazement. 
 
 " Mr. Hardeman ? — you — ^you here ? " 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco turned painfully towards 
 her and she saw he was utterly helpless. Fright 
 vanished and a feeling of dismay seized her, and 
 she sat down on a chair and gazed at him. How 
 pale and wan he looked, and how thin ; and still 
 there was that twinkle in his eyes that had so 
 attracted her when he brought her back to civil- 
 ization. 
 
 " Yes, I'm here for keeps, I guess," drawled 
 the sick man melodiously. " Serves me right. 
 Miss Thorn — as you're thinking, no doubt. I'll 
 never do it again, though — certain." 
 
 " You'll never steal a woman again ? " she 
 faltered, not knowing exactly what to say next; 
 but then she rallied. " I'm afraid you're fatally 
 hurt, Mr. Hardeman." 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 179 
 
 The Sheriff's heart smote him, but he threw a 
 most Hardeman like harshness into his voice. 
 " Your opinion of me is a bad one, lady. I must 
 be fatally hurt never to steal a woman again — 
 eh?" He chuckled. ^'Sinners have been known 
 to repent, Miss Thorn, and I certainly am sinner 
 enough to start in on that line — what do you 
 think ? " 
 
 '' I think that if you get well and become a 
 good man, as we said, you'll never regret it," she 
 said gently. After all there was good in him. 
 She had seen it many a time. 
 
 He shook his head sadly, this Sheriff of Wasco, 
 and groaning just enough to bring an excla- 
 mation of pity from her, remarked : 
 
 " If I get well I'll be hanged. These boys will 
 learn my identity— and I'd better die easy like." 
 
 " Don't they suspect who you are ? " she asked 
 cautiously. 
 
 " They think they know," nodded the invalid. 
 " They think I'm the Sheriff of Wasco, and that 
 Hardeman shot me. But you know better, don't 
 you? Upon you hangs my life or death." 
 
 It would be wrong to say as he met her 
 shocked eyes, that the reprobate was altogether 
 unhappy. He grinned over the picture of his 
 wickedness, but he pulled a blanket over his 
 mouth and chin first, and poor Myra, after a mo- 
 
180 TEE SEERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 mentary suspicion, decided he was suffering, and 
 her face saddened in pity. 
 
 " You see," he continued lugubriously, " it's 
 your duty to civilization to expose me; to tell 
 them that I'm that blood-dyed villain Harde- 
 man. And of course you've got to do it. And 
 they won't give me a chance to reform. They'll 
 hang me, and I guess that's what I deserve any- 
 way." He sighed the sigh of a badly-wounded 
 and generally-despondent man. 
 
 Myra was a thorough woman. 
 
 " Duty," she said scornfully. " You stole me, 
 but you brought me back — didn't you? I'll 
 stand by the secret — duty or no duty." 
 
 The sick man shook his head in a melancholy 
 way. " Forgive me — but you're a woman," his 
 voice cracked queerly, and he forbore to look at 
 her outraged face. " A good sweet woman," he 
 added hastily, ^' — and you don't know half my 
 Climes. When I think of what I am this minute 
 — I know I richly deserve hanging. No, ma'am, 
 far better if I don't get well." 
 
 Myra stamped her foot indignantly. 
 
 " Yes, I'm a w^oman, but I can keep a secret. 
 And I will, if you will honestly try to reform and 
 get well again." 
 
 " Get well ! Why should you care a continen- 
 tal whether ? " he paused, the sick hypocrite. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 181 
 
 and turned the flash-light of his graj-blue eyes 
 on her inquiringly. 
 
 " Oh," she said scathingly, " because then 
 you'd get out of the country. I want to know 
 you're a thousand miles from here at least. 
 Don't get it into your head that I'm falling in 
 love with you. I assure you I would not have 
 come within ten miles of you if I had known it 
 was you." 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco gazed at the ceiling in 
 silence. It cost him no effort to assume the 
 look of desolation and misery that suddenly 
 crept across his face. SJie fall in love with him? 
 — Of course not. But to wish him a thousand 
 miles awav from her I That stuns: intolerablv. 
 And he had certainly behaved abominably in his 
 conception of a difficult duty, and had earned 
 her contempt. 
 
 Myra saw the expression and her heart mis- 
 gave her. ^^ I didn't mean that. I was cruel. 
 Of course I would come to see anybody who 
 "was hurt," she said relentingly. 
 
 He nodded. " Yes ; you'd have come to see a 
 dog if it was hurt." There was an element of 
 bitterness in his voice, and she did not answer. 
 He pulled himself back to his duty with a vio- 
 lent wrench. Raising himself on his elbow he 
 looked at her, and if the part he meant to play 
 was Hardeman's, the half-sad mockery of his 
 
182 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 laugh was entirely the Sheriff of Wasco's own 
 production. 
 
 " You see, ma'am, I'm so much worse'n a dog 
 it worries me to see you wastin' time tryin' to 
 convert me. I'm just gone to the bad — abso- 
 lutely. I'm goin' to be hanged as soon as I'm 
 well — " here he dropped his voice to a terrify- 
 ing earnestness " — so I'm just goin' to kill a 
 few of these fellows 'round here first, and escape 
 to the wild, unrestrained life of a man without a 
 conscience ! " 
 
 Myra jumped to her feet in alarm. 
 
 " Don't kill anyone," she cried in terror. 
 " Get away as soon as you can — and try — try — 
 oh, do try, Mr. Hardeman — do try to be good." 
 
 Deeply afraid of what his combined wicked- 
 ness and despair might lead him to do, she ap- 
 proached his bed, extending her hand spontan- 
 eously, and whispering : " I'll pray for you, Mr. 
 Hardeman — Goodbye." 
 
 He greedily seized the proffered hand and 
 clasped it most gently in his own. It was so 
 delicate, so w^arm, so lovely — ^he closed his eyes 
 for a moment in furious shame. 
 
 " Don't pray for Hardeman, Miss Thorn," the 
 voice and the expression were ferocious. " Pray 
 for the Sheriff of Wasco;— he needs it." 
 
 " Oh — what? " she pulled her hand back, and 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 183 
 
 pressed it against her cheek, looking at him fear- 
 stricken. '^ Are you going to murder him? Oh 
 — I'm afraid I've done wrong to promise you any- 
 thing/^ and greatly perturbed she turned her 
 back on him and walked out of the cabin. 
 
 Left alone the invalid stared at the ceiling for 
 a minute or two, while a thousand expressions 
 chased each other across his face. 
 
 ^' It's a shame. It's a downright shame — but 
 what could I do?" he asked angrily. Then 
 reaching out for some tobacco from the little 
 table at the head of his bunk, he rolled and 
 lighted a cigarette and began puffing away, the 
 old dare-devil humor returning irresistibly. 
 " Murder the Sheriff of Wasco I It won't be nec- 
 essary. I'll bet she'll be ready to do it herself; 
 she'll be as mad as a hornet when she finds out. 
 —And it's just as well for me," he brooded sav- 
 agely as he blew a wreath of blue smoke towards 
 the rafters. " It's just as well for me-^amn 
 it!" 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ON THE RAMPAGE. 
 
 Myra was in a most distressed state of mind 
 when she arrived in Hilltown. Here was Harde- 
 man passing as the Sheriff of Wasco to the men 
 at the camp, and she had foolishly promised to 
 keep his secret. 
 
 There was no use believing in his reformation. 
 She was not sure he was sincere; and far too 
 much was at stake. Now that she viewed it all 
 from afar, she realized that she was doing a great 
 wrong to justice not to reveal the true state of 
 affairs as she saw it. 
 
 While her outlaw had undoubtedly been kind 
 to her during those last hours she was in his 
 hands, still that should have nothing to do with 
 the case. He was a notoriously wicked man, 
 who was wanted for many other offenses. And 
 to think that he now dared to pose as the Sheriff 
 of Wasco! Her dilemma was great. She had 
 learned to have a vague admiration for him on 
 that memorable journey home, and now he was 
 
 184 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 185 
 
 very sick and literally at her mercy. As she 
 thought of it, to betray him seemed treachery. 
 She could not reason fairly what course to pur- 
 sue. 
 
 More and more angrily she told herself that it 
 served her right for going around risiting sick 
 and unknown persons ; and more and more hotly 
 she blamed herself for her present awkward fix. 
 And she had promised to pray for this outlaw! 
 And he had audaciously advised her to pray for 
 the Sheriff of Wasco instead! That meant, of 
 course, that the Sheriff would be shot at the first 
 opportunity. If she let Hardeman get away she 
 would be directly responsible for a murder. 
 
 She thought and thought; but the more she 
 thought the deeper became her conviction that 
 duty to others compelled her to ignore her own 
 feelings and her rash promise, and to have Harde- 
 man held. She cried over it till her eyes were 
 red, and finally in despair decided that she would 
 make a clean breast of it to her father. 
 
 Mr. Thorn noticed at supper that his daughter 
 was in a very depressed state, but he attributed 
 it to her tender heart, and her worry over the 
 poor injured woodman. 
 
 After supper, however, she came to him as he 
 sat on the doorstep, watching the play of colors 
 on the distant peaks, and stealing her hand into 
 his sat down by his side. 
 
186 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 "What's doing now, Mjra?'' queried the wise 
 gentleman. ^' How much is it this time? " 
 
 " Nothing — Fm in need of advice, dad — that's 
 all." 
 
 " Advice? All right, daughter. Go ahead." 
 
 " I've got a secret," whispered Myra. " Father, 
 is a woman's promise made in haste to be lived 
 up to? " she asked solicitously. 
 
 " That depends," said Mr. Thorn judicially. 
 " Anyone been proposin' to you, Myra." 
 
 " Oh hush, father. No, indeed. A man's in 
 trouble and I promised not to reveal his identity. 
 And I should do so. I'm dreadfully worried 
 about it." 
 
 *^ You reveal, and reveal quick, daughter," 
 said Mr. Thorn. " What is it? " 
 
 " The man who is injured at the camp is pos- 
 ing as the Sheriff of Wasco." 
 
 "You don't say! And he isn't? Y'ou recog- 
 nize him? " 
 
 " Yes, father, he's no sheriff. He wants to get 
 away easily — and I promised not to tell. 
 
 " Who is he, daughter? " 
 
 " He's Hardeman." 
 
 Mr. John Thorn bounded to his feet in an in- 
 stant. 
 
 " Hardeman? and pretending he's the Sheri^? 
 Eh?" 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 187 
 
 "Yes, the men think he's the Sheriff; and he's 
 only waiting to get strong and escape." 
 
 Mr. Thorn took his daughter's hand in his and 
 drew her to him. " Promises are dangerous mat- 
 ters, Myra. You have done the right thing in 
 telling me. How was the rascal? Was he 
 decent? " 
 
 " Oh, yes I he was glad to see me," she said 
 eagerly, "and he seemed to want to do better. 
 Maybe we'd better keep quiet, father. He was 
 showing his good side, that side that makes him 
 so different from an outlaw." 
 
 " By Christopher I Why, he was fooling you, 
 Myra. Leave him to me," said her father 
 brusquely. 
 
 She seized his arm and looked at him entreat- 
 ingly. " Remember he did not harm me, father. 
 — Remember/^ 
 
 John Thorn ground his teeth. "Yes, I'll 
 remember. He won't pay for that offense; I'll 
 give the devil his due. But he'll hang all the 
 same. It's my paramount duty to go and see 
 Butts this instant." 
 
 The stage was rumbling in the distance and 
 Mr. Thorn caught it with difficulty. But once 
 inside he ensconced himself in the furthest cor- 
 ner, coofitatino: excitedlv over the tremendous 
 sensation he was about to spring on the unsus- 
 pecting camp. 
 
188 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 When he arrived there, puffing and blowing, lie 
 took Butts aside and whispered to him that the 
 sick man was a fraud and a villain. 
 
 The captain, who knew of Myra's visit, under- 
 stood in a moment. Listening gravely he sug- 
 gested that Mr. Thorn take a look at the man in 
 the hospital. 
 
 " If he ain't the Sheriff of Wasco, but that man 
 Hardeman, we'll have to treat him according to 
 what he is — seeing as how he has fooled us," said 
 Butts. 
 
 So while Mr. Thorn strutted off to interview 
 the impostor, the captain collected the men and 
 imparted to them that the Sheriff of Wasco, 
 having evidently failed to clear his identity to 
 Miss Thorn, was about to be exposed by her 
 father. 
 
 They all grinned at the prospect of a splendid 
 entertainment. 
 
 " And if he sticks to his outlaw story with the 
 old gent, then let's make him sorry," suggested 
 Mr. Jenks gleefully. " We'll treat him like an 
 outlaw, you bet. And we won't let the old man 
 know he ain't, neither." 
 
 To this they assented cordially. It was just 
 what they needed to make variety. They would 
 treat the Sheriff outrageously and make Mr. 
 Thorn responsible. The Sheriff was well enoogb 
 now to stand a joke or two. Well, they wiKild 
 
TEE SHERIFF OF TFA^CO. 189 
 
 just see how long he could be made to tolerate 
 one. 
 
 Mr. Thorn entered the cabin hospital and 
 looked at the Sheriff carefully by the light of the 
 lantern on the table. This outlaw was surely a 
 big handsome fellow enough. That did not sig- 
 nify, of course, but it was slightly embarrassing. 
 
 " Well, I came to see you," exclaimed the visi- 
 tor suddenly, panting for breath. 
 
 " Charmed, I am sure," and the Sheriff ex- 
 tended his hand. " But what do you call your- 
 self? " 
 
 " Never you mind who I am," retorted the wor- 
 ried gentleman, ignoring the proffered hand. " I 
 am here to identify you, sir. You're a fraud." 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco sat up on an elbow and 
 rolled a cigarette. " Would you call me a fraud 
 if I were quite recovered? " he drawled. And 
 he looked searchingly at Mr. Thorn, his eyes 
 seeming to pierce that gentleman through and 
 throucch, while the lines on his face hardened per- 
 ceptibly. 
 
 Myra's father faltered. Then he remembered 
 the righteousness of his cause and blurted out. 
 
 " You're living here under false pretenses, sir. 
 Y'ou're not the Sheriff of W^asco." 
 
 " Why, you seem to be stirred by some sort of 
 a deep, playful emotion, Mr. Stranger. Take a 
 seat," said the invalid. 
 
190 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 Mr. Thorn was glad to sit down. Being some- 
 what cooled off by his reception he scarcely knew 
 what to say next. Outside in the darkening 
 vista of the door he perceived dim forms and 
 knew that the men were listening. 
 
 " Seems to me you're a comediaii/' re- 
 marked the invalid slowly. 
 
 The visitor gasped in chagrin and anger. 
 "And you're Hardeman the outlaw/' he splut- 
 tered. 
 
 In an instant the Sheriff realized that this fat 
 and hearty old gentleman before him must be 
 the father of the girl he had saved. Miss Myra 
 Thorn had grown tired of praying for the outlaw, 
 and had told her father all about it. To deny 
 now that he was Hardeman would be extremely 
 embarrassing and might lead to questions of why 
 and wherefore, which the Sheriff had no inten- 
 tion of discussing— least of all with the girl's 
 father. If the patrolmen had decided that love 
 was the cause of his reticence, how would the 
 matter appear to astute Mr. John Thorn? 
 
 He sank down into his bunk and thought hard 
 for a moment or two. 
 
 ^' You're evidently the lady's governor. Well, 
 you'd better string me up quick, sir." 
 
 ''You're Hardeman? You dare confess it,'^ 
 gasped the old man triumphantly. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 191 
 
 " Sure as you're John Thorn, the corpulent 
 millionaire.'' 
 
 The visitor shifted uneasily and eyed the sick 
 one with momentary suspicion ere he launched 
 forth pompously. 
 
 " It's my duty, sir, to give you up to these men. 
 While I fully appreciate that you brought my 
 daughter back safely, you are still at heart a 
 demon. A demon, sir, and you are wanted for 
 so many crimes that to keep your identity secret, 
 and share in your contemplated escape, w^ould be 
 criminal." 
 
 The Sheriff turned towards the speaker and 
 looked at him in undisguised admiration. 
 
 " Say, if I could talk like that I'd quit being 
 an outlaw. I'd start in to be a bunco steerer." 
 
 Stout John Thorn twitched. This nonchalant 
 young reprobate was altogether too lively. Ris- 
 ing, he beckoned to the men outside and called 
 them in. 
 
 " This man acknowledges he is the outlaw 
 Hardeman, and not the Sheriff of Wasco," said 
 Mr. Thorn. 
 
 Butts started backward in feigned surprise, and 
 the ring of confederates standing round growled 
 in what appeared to be the deepest amazement. 
 Then the leader advanced to the bunk and bent 
 a ferocious glare on the defenceless Sheriff. 
 
192 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 " Which is it, young feller? '^ he demanded. 
 ^^ Out with it. Give it to us straight." 
 
 The Sheriff knew instinctively that some 
 scheme was afoot, but he remained silent. 
 
 "Which?" demanded several of the men. 
 " Which are you? " 
 
 The Sheriff glared at them searchingly, but he 
 saw no sign of fun. Then with a sarcastic twist 
 of his upper lip he answered : 
 
 " You genteel group of children, I'm the out- 
 law Hardeman, of course." 
 
 The captain rose to his duty. He issued a 
 harsh, reverberating command, and two men 
 stepped forward and bound the Sheriff's legs in 
 silence. Then he walked away with Mr. John 
 Thorn, promising loudly that the villain should 
 be given over to the proper authorities without 
 delay. 
 
 So Myra's father went back to Hilltown, feel- 
 ing that his duty as a citizen had been done ; and 
 the moment he was gone the plotters collected 
 outside the cabin door and inquired feelingly 
 of the prisoner how he enjoyed being Hardeman 
 now. 
 
 The outraged Sheriff answered never a word, 
 but ground his teeth in silence, while he medi- 
 tated revenge? Mr. Jenks dropped into the 
 cabin and sitting beside him, asked sympatheti- 
 cally if he could do anything to alleviate his 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 193 
 
 inner thoughts. And then Butts returned and 
 announced that inasmuch as the invalid per- 
 sisted in being Hardeman, his diet would here- 
 after consist of water and bread and no cigar- 
 ettes. 
 
 He stooped towards the table to remove the 
 tobacco as he made the remark, and like a flash 
 the Sheriff whirled towards him and seized him 
 bj his collar. The same instant he drew his 
 heavy revolver from under his pillow and pre- 
 sented it at Butts' astonished face. 
 
 '^ Look a-here," said the slow, melodious voice 
 of the Sheriff, ^^ I'm good-natured enough — but 
 I have fits of excitement once in a while. I feel 
 one a coming now." 
 
 Butts struggled earnestly to get away. 
 '' Sheriff, it's only a joke," he protested smiling. 
 ^'We boys thought we'd enjoy ourselves a 
 bit." 
 
 '' So you will, all right," echoed the Sheriff. 
 " Now, boys, remember I said I was to be Harde- 
 man to that young lady. That means to her 
 father too. It's just my own personal desire and 
 it's none of your blamed business. Savvy? " he 
 inquired sweetly. 
 
 Everybody echoed : '^ Sure ! " and the speaker 
 released Butts, who backed away to the wall. 
 
 " Now that we quite understand each other," 
 continued the Sheriff of Wasco, "and just to 
 
194 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 show that I fully appreciate your kind treatment 
 of me, I'm going to celebrate." 
 
 Bang — bang, went the heavy revolver, and 
 chips flew from the log wall on either side of the 
 captain's head. Bang — ^bang, and one bullet 
 grazed his shoulder and the other pierced the 
 side of his coat. Bang, and the dilapidated 
 water-pitcher on the shelf flew to pieces. Butts 
 and the boys, emitting discordant and unearthly 
 yells', disappeared in a wild scramble. The 
 Sheriff fired his last shot through the looking 
 glass on the wall, and then turning over pulled 
 the blanket around him, smiling to himself. 
 
 Without, the patrolmen gathered around their 
 leader, whooping in glee as he gingerly inspected 
 his damaged coat. The captain looked foolish 
 for a moment ; then he turned to Yang Foo, who 
 came trotting in haste from the kitchen, and bel- 
 lowed : 
 
 " Give that wild coyote in there anything he 
 wants — whiskey or milk. He's sure gone ram- 
 paginous." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE REVELATION. 
 
 So the dangerous outlaw Hardeman haying 
 been safely arrested, Mr. Thorn, who had not 
 been a spectator at the later half of the perform- 
 ance, went home and told his daughter all about 
 
 it. 
 
 " You've done your duty to the State, Myra. 
 Don't give yourself any regrets about it. Why 
 the rascal declared he was just as surely Harde- 
 man as I was a corpulent millionaire. Right to 
 my face. Call him penitent? " 
 
 Myra smiled at her outraged parent; but in- 
 wardly she was uneasy. She was dissatisfied 
 with herself. Her heart misgave her lest after 
 all she had been too hasty, yet she could find no 
 foundation for this feeling except an uncon- 
 fessed liking, utterly and painfully out of place 
 in the case. There were moments on that jour- 
 ney home when she had thought extremely well 
 of her outlaw— who had fought for her and 
 guarded her, and had seemed sometimes, enigma 
 
 195 
 
196 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 that hie was, to be even better than other men. 
 Two weeks of reflection and cool judgment, even 
 his wild iniquitous outburst of yesterday, had 
 failed to dim that impression or render his mem- 
 ory less romantic. 
 
 After a week of waiting, in which she had 
 hoped in vain for some news from the camp, she 
 went up there one afternoon determined to learn 
 all the details for herself. 
 
 She got her information before she reached 
 the camp. For seated on a log at a turn of the 
 trail, his back towards her, was Commander 
 Butts, and with him was the man whom Butts 
 had solemnly arrested a full week before at the 
 request of her innocent father. 
 
 As Myra stood there petrified, but dimly di- 
 vining by the memory of certain shadowy and 
 nameless suspicions the meaning of this sight, 
 she heard Butts say persuasively : 
 
 '' Sheriff, don't you do it. Don't you be in 
 too big a hurry goin' after that skunk Harde- 
 man. Give your wound another week. Ain't 
 you got a piece o' business to look afte- here in 
 Hilltown first, anyway? " 
 
 Spellbound by sudden conviction, Myra waited 
 for that other voice. 
 
 " No, I must get Hardeman first. I've made a 
 blamed fool of myself, Butts. I wish to thunder 
 I'd never Doggone it, kick me, won't you?" 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 197 
 
 Butts affectionately thumped tlie buckskin- 
 clad shoulder. 
 
 " I'd kick Tou clear back to Wasco, Sheriff, if 
 'twould help YOU,'' he laughed. " 'Twould sure 
 help my feelin's about the way you've conducted 
 that there business. Want to hear a friend's 
 advice? " 
 
 "What's the use?" 
 
 " Go right down and see her and have it out 
 with her. Maybe she'll forgive you." 
 
 It was a thoroughly enlightened and wrathful 
 Myra now. And it was certainly a most unlucky 
 Sheriff. 
 
 " Great guns, man I She'd be madder than a 
 wet hen," he exploded. 
 
 "Oh I Oh!— how dare you?" gasped Myra. 
 The heads of the two conspirators slewed round 
 together as though they were loose, and the grin 
 of appreciation literally froze on Butts' face at 
 what he saw behind him. 
 
 But that apparition's flashing eyes and crim- 
 soned cheeks were not for him. but for his dumb 
 companion. 
 
 " So you— you are the Sheriff of Wasco,'' she 
 said in a hushed, soft, utterly withering sort of 
 voice. 
 
 They could no more affirm the fact than they 
 could deny it, and their very humiliation helped 
 
198 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 the girl. She seemed to tower above their con- 
 victed ague-stricken backs. 
 
 " I'm so glad to know,'' she said, growing col- 
 lected. ^' As you may remember I rather ad- 
 mired the Sheriff, and this meeting is a great 
 pleasure. I mustn't tell you how great a pleas- 
 ure — because I remember — I remember my debt 
 to you for bringing me back." Her voice told 
 the pleasure exactly if he needed any enlighten- 
 ment. '^ I know you're a brave man ; I've had 
 proof of it," she said. '' But does a brave man 
 usually take advantage of a terrified girl's mis- 
 take to make her a laughing-stock in her own 
 eyes — and afterwards before his friends? " The 
 scorn of her voice broke in a slight tremor 
 as she thought of his outrageous " wet hen '^ 
 simile. 
 
 The Sheriff had risen and stood beside 
 Butts, his pale cheeks flaming. His eyes rested, 
 ashamed but steady, on the girl's. 
 
 " Miss Thorn, don't be too hard on him," 
 pleaded the friendly captain. 
 
 " You," breathed Myra, " you arrested him, 
 didn't you? " and Butts collapsed. 
 
 Her accusing gaze returned to the Sheriff. 
 
 " He wore a mask. — I was a dunce of course 
 not to see the difference. But there are strong 
 points of resemblance between you. I think so 
 still," she said slowly and with bitter meaning. 
 
TEE SEERIFF OF WASCO. 199 
 
 " I think now there must be other resemblances 
 which I did not suspect then." 
 
 The Sheriff awoke to life. " You're right, 
 ma'am. I haven- 1 a word of excuse," he ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 The sparkling blue eyes of his judge wavered. 
 She knew how unjust that last stroke of hers 
 was. ''But why did you do it?" she cried, a 
 hurt sound of entreaty creeping in with the in- 
 dignation of her voice. 
 
 " I didn't know you," he answ^ered. 
 
 They were speaking to each other alone. 
 Butts might have been a thousand miles away, 
 as he devoutly wished himself. Once again My- 
 ra's eyes travelled stormily from the luckless 
 Sheriff's face to his feet and back, then they 
 changed. 
 
 " And those reforms of yours," she cried bit- 
 terly. Then grief and humiliation swept away 
 half her anger. ''Oh — how could you? I 
 thought so well of you. I might have forgiven 
 you if it weren't for that." With a face almost 
 as miserable as his own she turned and walked 
 swiftly away as she had come. 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco waited not to bid adieu 
 to Butts. With determination on his brow he 
 strode down the trail after the justly offended 
 lady. 
 
 " Jumpin' crickets ! " breathed the deserted 
 
200 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 commander, looking round at the empty sun- 
 shine; then virtuously, "Well he'd oughter be 
 ashamed of himself. Reforms, eh ! After that 
 look she gave him I've lost my sympathy for 
 him." And Mr. Butts betook himself hastily 
 elsewhere. 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco at that moment was 
 standing across the trail, facing a stately, im- 
 placable girl, unashamed of some defiant tears. 
 War breathed between them. Too proudly hum- 
 ble to touch her hand he effectually barred her 
 way, his arms folded, his pale face kindled with 
 the light of passion. 
 
 " You cannot go like this," he said. 
 
 "Why cannot I?" she flashed; and he sim- 
 ply and tersely changed a word : " You shall 
 not!" 
 
 Myra threw up her head, but he stood there, 
 all stern and unabashed, a thunderstorm of love. 
 
 " Well? " she said, half quailing. 
 
 " You gave Hardeman his chance, Miss Thorn, 
 or you believed you did. Be fair and give me 
 mine — to win back your favor," he begged with 
 masterful entreaty. 
 
 " Your chance — to laugh at me again? 
 Thanks," she said cruelly, felinely enjoying the 
 knowledge that she could hurt him in return. 
 
 He put the mean little taunt aside. 
 
 " You know better than that." Then he was 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 201 
 
 suddenly all gentleness, while the force in him 
 enfolded her despite her angry rebellion against 
 him. ^' I can't stand having you mad with me. 
 Now here's the truth, and it's been hurting me 
 worse than it has you." He paused, while a ten- 
 der, humorous gleam shot irresistibly from his 
 eyes into her vexed ones. " Fact is I was a fool 
 not to think of sending my card up that mesa 
 ahead of me. 'Twould have saved me a heap of 
 worry.'' 
 
 Myra's head jerked, but he saw the corners of 
 her mouth soften for his verv audacitv. 
 
 " The result was, you took me for that low 
 thief I'd come after. I didn't understand for a 
 minute; and when I did, it struck my tom-fool 
 sense of humor as a joke.'' He waited, but Myra 
 would not appreciate. " 'Course it wasn't," he 
 blandly explained. '^ I ought to have told you 
 I'd missed him by half an inch and was swearing 
 mad until I found you, all white and huddled up 
 and frightened, and staring at me as if I was 
 going to eat you, — poor little lady." 
 
 Here memory gave the citadel of feminine 
 wrath a sharp jolt. Myra's eyes were with- 
 drawn. But she answered tartlv : " Oh, vou 
 were kind enough. I ought to have known the 
 difference, I'll admit." 
 
 " Well, I don't know. Don't you forget those 
 strong points of resemblance between us." 
 
202 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 The gentleness of the answer seemed merely 
 wishful to help her out. But its quickness, and 
 a certain faint note of reproach in it, set her 
 ears tingling guiltily. 
 
 " I certainly ought to have told you who I 
 was,'' he resumed remorsefully. '' There's no 
 sort of excuse for that oversight. — But you see 
 how it was. I happened to discover what a heap 
 you thought of the Sheriff of Wasco, and natur- 
 ally I couldn't " 
 
 Decidedly Myra\s eyes came up this time. " I 
 didn't," she gasped indignantly. Just as sud- 
 denly, however, they dropped again. '^ Why, 
 you're even worse than I thought you were," she 
 declared. 
 
 " Oh, pshaw — now I knew^ that all along," he 
 drawled melodiously, smiling at her. ^' Couldn't 
 be as good as that Sheriff of Wasco, nohow! 
 Still I'm not so awful bad when I'm good. 
 When I'm bad I ain't real noticeably good, 
 naturally. That's human." 
 
 Was the audacious creature laughing at her? 
 Myra's ejes flashed. He was grinning openly. 
 She would have passed him, only that he still 
 blocked the way. 
 
 ^' That's no argument for a grown man. From 
 what I know of you I should say your bad streak 
 was uppermost usually," she stormed with an 
 awful falling from dignity. ^' You're taking a 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 203 
 
 mean advantage now. Let me pass. I'm — I'm 
 afraid of you, sir." 
 
 He slouched gracefully forward with a certain 
 earnestness. 
 
 " You afraid o' me? — You? Why that's surely 
 a little girl's way of teasing a man. Afraid of 
 me? Do you remember the mesa, and when I 
 brought you home — the day and the night? Do 
 you remember when you slept, and I watched 
 you? Why you weren't even afraid of him you 
 thought Hardeman, and certain sure you're not 
 afraid of me." His voice at first had been anx- 
 ious and uncertain, but he saw the corners of 
 her mouth smile. He whispered confidently. 
 " That's a bluff — a great big bluff of yours, isn't 
 it? " and then he laughed — a low, deep, musical 
 laugh, but so infectious that Myra's smile broad- 
 ened resistlessly. " Say, — truly, didn't I make 
 a bird of an outlaw? " he inquired joyously. 
 
 " I most got twisted sometimes. Didn't know 
 I could be so good," he declared. " When I saw 
 you asleep — " he hesitated, but Myra's expres- 
 sion was certainly not forbidding, at least, — 
 " when I saw you asleep, your face all red and 
 white, and you so tired, lying there with your 
 head on my coat, I most wished I was that out- 
 law, by heavens. I wanted to run off with you 
 myself. But no I I was so doggoned good I 
 watched you five mortal hours, afraid to cough or 
 
204 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 get a drink of water lest you'd awake. Say — 
 you will take that back, Miss Thorn. You're not 
 really afraid of me, are you? " 
 
 It w^as an unexpected and lovable display of 
 the youth's uncertainty and humility in the man, 
 and Myra fell deeply in love with it. 
 
 " Sheriff, I think you're just the w^orst rascal 
 I ever met," she said, and smiling laid her hand 
 in his. 
 
 His closed swiftly on it, and there was a mo- 
 ment when he almost said certain things w^hich 
 he had forbidden himself. The next, he remem- 
 bered he was but a sheriff, with his six hundred 
 a year to her many thousands, and his absurd 
 tin cup was in the spring nearby, and in his eyes 
 was only a smiling, careless dare-devil. 
 
 " Have a drink — ^have one on me," he said, 
 passing it to her. — '' I'd hate like thunder to have 
 lost your friendship by that darn foolishness." 
 
 She drank, her eyes smiling at him across the 
 brim and full of promises which he did not see, 
 being blinded by too much looking on his pov- 
 erty. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A VISIT TO HILLTOWN. 
 
 As the days passed the patrolmen noticed that 
 the Sheriff improved in health, and they also 
 noticed that he was high-strung and anxious. 
 They rightly attributed it to an intense desire 
 to be on the trail again, to be out hunting his 
 quarry — to do things — and they sympathized 
 with him. Occasionally, however, they caught 
 him in unfriendly mood, sitting on a fallen tree, 
 or walking sullenly alone; then they smiled fur- 
 tively at one another, and proceeded to draw 
 other conclusions quite as correct. 
 
 " Serve him plumb right gettin' all shook up 
 in a love affair he ain't got sense nor gall enough 
 to put through. Serve him plumb right for 
 playin' off to a grateful lady as that low wolf 
 Hardeman. Did anybody ever hear of a young 
 feller like him missin' such a chance? — A million- 
 aire's daughter, too ! Yah— Plumb disgustin' I " 
 
 This was from Mr. Jenks of Oregon, in his 
 anxiety for his oracle. But afterwards the cir- 
 cle would reconsider and hand it down as their 
 
 205 
 
206 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 judgment that the Sheriff had done just the 
 white thing, and in their extreme friendliness 
 would openly give him advice as to how to pro- 
 ceed. 
 
 The Sheriff always resented their impertinent 
 suggestions. 
 
 Seeing at last it was no use baiting him, the 
 men got together and made a pool as to the date 
 and the time of day when the Sheriff would go 
 and say good-bye to Miss Thorn. They were 
 unanimously of the opinion that he would have 
 to make a final visit at least to square himself. 
 There was absolutely no way out of that, and 
 they might just as wtII bet on the time as not; 
 so every man contributed two dollars to the pot. 
 There was something like fifty dollars to win. 
 They watched the Sheriff's movements closely, 
 and every time that he started out of camp they 
 took the time. Somebody was going to win two 
 months' salary, and so, many of those who should 
 have been sleeping stayed awake half the night, 
 watching to see whether the Sheriff would make 
 an early start for Hilltown. The camp began 
 to get nervous, and the Sheriff of Wasco re- 
 marked to Butts one evening that the men 
 seemed to be '^ allfired nighthawks ! " 
 
 " Tell you how it is. Sheriff," was the captain's 
 answer, " the men are all so worried about 
 your goin' after that there outlaw that they 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 207 
 
 can't sleep. Their natures air so highstrung 
 that they hate to see a friend take chances." 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco grinned. 
 
 " Well," he answered, " I've got to go soon, 
 Butts. But before I go I'm going to Hilltown to 
 see the Thorns." 
 
 Butts' heart gave a great bound. " When yer 
 goin' to start. Sheriff?" he asked, the words 
 almost choking him in his anxiety. 
 
 " To-morrow at eight," was the indifferent an- 
 swer, — '^ good night." 
 
 As the Sheriff walked away to his bunk the 
 captain's brain grew active. He kept his infor- 
 mation to himself and craftily began to suggest 
 to the boys that they ought to raise the ante. 
 What was the use of having a pot with only fifty 
 dollars in it? The time was approaching rapidly 
 when the Sheriff must make that visit. He 
 surely must go within a week. Why not make 
 the excitement greater? 
 
 So every man put his second two dollars into 
 the pot, and his new guess on a piece of paper 
 and dropped it into a tin can. Butts lay awake 
 all night. 
 
 The Sheriff started promptly at eight fifteen 
 next morning, for Hilltown. '^ To buy a few 
 cartridges," as he expressed it. He was scarcely 
 out of sight when the men in camp made a wild 
 swoop onto the tin can. There were some pretty 
 
208 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 close guesses, but Butts won. He had one guess 
 '^ 8.04 A.M." with the correct date. 
 
 Everyone felt cheap and disgusted, except 
 Butts, who pocketed the coin, and, announcing 
 that he would be back in a week, started as soon 
 he could for Seattle. 
 
 The men thought it over for about an hour, 
 and then they began to expectorate more fre- 
 quently than usual, and to hitch up their trousers 
 occasionally, and say, " damn '' to themselves. 
 
 Finally Jenks mustered courage. 
 
 '' Seems to me,'' he muttered, ^' Seems to me, 
 boys.'' 
 
 " Yes," retorted another, " — that's what ! 
 We've been buncoed. — Done up." 
 
 ^' We'll lay for Butts, we will," they chorused, 
 " and we'll cowhide him." 
 
 " Naw you won't," exhorted Jones, " Butts* 
 just got it out o' that Sheriff ; he wormed it out, 
 and we is to blame for being fools to guess again. 
 You can't prove anything agin Butts. He had 
 two guesses; you don't know which one he put in 
 last — the wrong or the kerrect. Butts is all 
 right. He's got the brains. We is the suckers." 
 
 They were a disgusted lot. But presently as 
 they discussed the matter they were thunder- 
 struck to see Butts returning to camp. He came 
 towards them and sat dejectedly down on a 
 stumj). 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 209 
 
 Jenks moved forward. ^' That was a blamed 
 good guess o' journ, Cap," he exclaimed ; " Have 
 you come back here to make good ? " 
 
 Butts shook his head slowly. " Nothing doing, 
 boys," he muttered; " nothing doing. I do sorter 
 acknowledge I took a mean advantage. I worried 
 it outer the Sheriff. That was fair enough 
 though — you all had the same chance — but I've 
 lost the dough." 
 
 " How ? " chorused the men as they gathered 
 around. " How did you lose a hundred ker- 
 plunks." 
 
 ^' Well, I'll tell you," and the Captain began 
 slowly. " I got a mile out there on the road 
 when a feller pulls a gun on me, and laughs and 
 says, 
 
 " Yer a darned smart fox, Butts — but you're 
 wrong. Fork over those hundred dollars you got 
 by gittin' the inside track. It's mine by rights. 
 I set the time. / win.'^^ 
 
 " The Sheriff o' Wasco ? " 
 
 " Sure it w^as. And he reaches down and per- 
 litely takes the hundred outer my pockets; and 
 then he says : "Go back, friend Butts, and tell the 
 boys to await my return; and tell 'em next time 
 they make a pool on when a fellow's goin' to see 
 a lady, not to get so doggoned sleepless about 
 it. That gives 'em away." 
 
 They took Butts and carried him to the cabin. 
 
210 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 Then they sat around the tables, drank whiskey 
 and looked sheepish and cursed the Sheriff of 
 Wasco. But finally they began to laugh and 
 grow gleeful, and smash things in their un- 
 bounded admiration of him ; and it ended with a 
 glorious racket. 
 
 The Sheriff meanwhile had arrived in sight 
 of Hilltown, his pockets heavy with money and 
 his face abeam. 
 
 He grinned to himself as he thought of the 
 disconsolate Butts and of the spree that was to 
 have been in Seattle. Then he began to look 
 serious. What would the boys do to him when 
 he returned to the camp? How w^ould they take 
 the joke?'' 
 
 He sat down on a fallen stump by the roadside 
 and laughed aloud. He must certainly spend 
 that money, every cent, before he got back; 
 otherwise they would take it from him and it 
 wouldn't do anybody any good. 
 
 He glanced through the trees and saw that only 
 a half mile below, lower on the foothills, was 
 Hilltown, quiet and nestling, surrounded by 
 cleared fields, and profusely adorned with 
 flowers. Children were playing in the distance, 
 and men and women walking about. A restful 
 scene, and it soothed the Sheriff curiously as he 
 sat watching it. Then he looked at the towering 
 Olympics, with the Devil's Pass in the distance, 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 211 
 
 the gigantic boulders and serried peaks cutting 
 clearly into the sky, wrapt here and there with 
 mist and fleeting clouds — and the restful feeling 
 vanished. 
 
 He shook himself and instinctively clutched 
 
 his rifle. 
 
 ^' He's not gone eastward. He's out in the 
 mines, with that gang there. " I'll wager I'll find 
 him out there beyond the tail of the mountains 
 near the ocean." 
 
 A deep shadow crossed his face. His jaws 
 settled firmly together, and the pleasant vision 
 of Hilltown faded from his eyes. He saw a 
 certain morning down in Wasco, the deed of 
 horror there which had sent him forth on this 
 quest for vengeance, the cheering boys as they 
 bade him good-bye. 
 
 He saw the long tramp through the Devil's 
 Pass — alone one way — and the return journey 
 in company dangerous but all too dear to mem- 
 ory. His thoughts slipped away to her! How 
 angry she had been with him the other day ; but 
 afterwards, in her forgiveness, how sweet and 
 womanly — how altogether desirable. He stood 
 up suddenly and stepped out on the trail 
 again. 
 
 "It's time to say good-bye,'' he muttered 
 gruffly. " Got to do it. I haven't any real right 
 to sit in a love game with her. Not me. I'm 
 
212 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 strong now, and mj game is outlaws and sucli 
 trash.'' 
 
 Gloomily he plunged along but suddenly halted 
 at the distant voices of children. 
 
 " Kids/' he muttered, as he swung along again, 
 and soon beheld a boy and girl and a go-cart. 
 The latter was made of a couple of boards with 
 barrel heads for wheels, and had evidently come 
 to grief on a stone in the road. The seven-year 
 old boy was trying to hammer a wheel into 
 position with a piece of wood, and the girl was 
 telling him he was wrong — entirely wrong. He 
 ought to use a piece of stone. 
 
 The Sheriff watched them a moment, then he 
 coughed. " Hello, kids," he said, smiling, " can't 
 you gQi that wheel a revolutin' right?" The 
 children glanced at him, and the girl shielded 
 herself behind her brother in alarm. The boy 
 breasted the stranger bravely and demanded : 
 
 " Who's you ? " 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco stepped back. " Who's 
 me?" he repeated, ^' Who's me? Oh, yes, I for- 
 got — I'm a stranger. I don't know exactly where 
 I am ; I want to see Mr. Thorn in Hilltown." 
 
 The children saw the smile on the Sheriff's face 
 and felt reassured. 
 
 " If you's bad the Sheriff of Wasco'll get you," 
 exclaimed the boy. The Sheriff laughed melo- 
 diously. '^ Oh, dear me, kids, that Sheriff of 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 213 
 
 Wasco won't let any bad man come around you. 
 Now you just let me ^x that there wheel." 
 
 He stooped and turning the go-cart upside 
 down knelt by it and pounded the wheel on the 
 axle with his bronzed fist. Then he got a small 
 twig and shaped it into a pin and stuck it in 
 place. 
 
 " How's that ? " he exclaimed, looking approv- 
 ingly at his work. 
 
 The little girl edged sideways towards this 
 agreeable stranger and pulling him by the sleeve 
 said with smiling, upturned eyes : '^ Give us a 
 ride — will yer ? " 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco looked at her a moment, 
 then lifting her gently placed her on the mended 
 go-cart; and, as the boy crawled on behind, the 
 man-hunter seized the shaft and trundled the 
 pair along the road. He glanced back once or 
 twice laughingly : 
 
 " Eemember, show me where Mr. Thorn lives, 
 will you? " he asked of his juvenile companions. 
 
 " Sure," responded the girl, *^ He lives right 
 next to our house. Go faster, please, Mister 
 Stranger." So the Sheriff of Wasco, Winchester 
 in hand, bent to his task and dragging the 
 two in the go-cart he made his entry into Hill- 
 town. 
 
 The town noticed the handsome stranger and 
 his unusual occupation and surmised instantly 
 
214 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 that he was the much-talked-of Sheriff at Butts' 
 camp, for since Myra's' discovery there had been 
 no occasion to conceal his identity. The man was 
 too intent on his work to see that he was the cen- 
 tre of attraction; and stopping suddenly at a 
 command from the little girl before a large log 
 cabin, he turned to his young friends. 
 
 " There now, kids, how was it? Here you are 
 home." 
 
 They alighted, and he helped take the go-cart 
 into the yard. Then the little girl pulled him by 
 the sleeve. 
 
 " Come along now,'' she lisped, " We'll take 
 you to see Myra — that's Miss Thorn." 
 
 And led by the two the big young Westerner 
 walked next door to the Thorns' spacious cabin, 
 and knocked; and Hilltown was ablaze with 
 suppressed excitement. 
 
 Mr. Thorn himself answered the knock, and 
 the two guides left the Sheriff to his fate. 
 
 It threatened to be a harsh one at first. For 
 face to face with Myra's father the Sheriff, sud- 
 denly remembering their last interview, felt 
 wholesome shame at himself, and stood hesitat- 
 ing, and growing red. " You see how it is," he 
 plunged quickly, " I came to see you, sir, to talk 
 about that gold mine out in the mountains, that 
 you're interested in." 
 
 " Humph ! " stout Mr. Thorn grunted ; but 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 215 
 
 his eyes twinkled fast and his face shone with 
 repressed pleasure as he showed the tall fellow 
 to a chair on the veranda and sat down himself. 
 This man had made Mr. Thorn look like a fool, 
 but he had also brought back Mr. Thorn's 
 daughter, and the old man had no score against 
 
 him. 
 
 '' Seems to me," he remarked, passing the visi- 
 tor a cigar, '' now I see you in daylight, you 
 look more like a sheriff than an outlaw after 
 
 all." 
 
 The Sheriff grinned his appreciation. '' That 
 was a darn fool thing for me to do— now wasn't 
 it? I 'most died when Miss Myra gave me a 
 laying out t'other day. And say— Butts, he had 
 a silent fit." 
 
 Mr. Thorn bit his lip. '' You needed all you 
 got, Sheriff, and I'll have to get square with 
 you myself. You take altogether too much de- 
 light in calling people corpulent millionaires," 
 he said seriously. 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco colored and gripped his 
 knees with his hands ; then he laughed : 
 
 " If I was a millionaire," he answered, " I 
 wouldn't care what a sick man called me by mis- 
 take. I'd say he was too sick to be thoughtful. 
 Anyhow, I'd forgive him sure " 
 
 Mr. Thorn mentally forgave him then and 
 there, but he did not say so. Instead he in- 
 
216 THE SHERIFF OF WA8C0, 
 
 quired what the Sheriff wanted to know about 
 Ms gold mine. 
 
 " It's this way, sir. IVe heard you and Miss 
 Thorn are going out there soon. Now, I'd like 
 it if you wouldn't." 
 
 " You'd like it if I wouldn't," gasped the 
 astonished host. " Y>^hy? What's up?" 
 
 " Just this," the blue-gray eyes took on their 
 most reserved expression, " I'm going there my- 
 self. I believe the outlaw Hardeman is there 
 from certain reasons I've figured out. I'm going 
 to get him and bring him back if he is. And if 
 he won't come, you see, there's going to be a 
 fight." 
 
 " Dear me," said Mr. Thorn, greatly disturbed, 
 " and we have arranged to go this week. And 
 my daughter — well, I'm afraid she won't take 
 ' no ' for an answer, unless I tell her the facts. 
 And that won't do at all, Sheriff. She's too 
 frightened already of that outlaw." 
 
 The Sheriff shook his head decidedly. " Don't 
 tell her, sir. I go to-morrow to find Talabam the 
 Indian Chief. He will show me the old trail 
 across the mountains to the mines. Give me a 
 few days' start, and then you can follow, and put 
 up at some place this side of the mines till you 
 hear from me." 
 
 " Good idea. There's Jones' cabin, ten miles 
 this side. We'll stop there," said Mr. Thorn, 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 217 
 
 relieTed. " I'll make some excuse and we'll stay 
 till we hear from you.'' 
 
 " From me — or of me. Stay till it's settled," 
 suggested the Sheriff smoothly; and a new idea 
 suddenly struck the old gentleman. He had for- 
 gotten the danger of the mission. 
 
 " You-re taking help along, Sheriff,'' he 
 queried earnestly. 
 
 The tall young Sheriff looked insulted. " To 
 get one man, sir? " he asked quietly. 
 
 " Well, but they're not a nice set out there, 
 boy. You'd better take a few of the patrol." 
 
 The Sheriff smiled grimly. '^ That would 
 mean a great big free fight, sir, and a red sky. 
 The boys are liable to get sorter excited. If I 
 need help there's Chief Talabam." 
 
 " But you two w^on- 1 tackle that gang alone, 
 will you? " 
 
 " Darn the gang — I'm after Hardeman," was 
 the laconic answer, and the older man was 
 silenced. Privately he hoped that the Sheriff's 
 theory was wrono:. There was still the chance 
 that the outlaw had betaken himself to safer 
 places. 
 
 They smoked a while longer, talking of many 
 things — of outlaws, of mines, of men, and of 
 money makins:: The Sheriff had certain re- 
 served virile ideas of his own concerning them, 
 especially the last, as his hearer discovered with 
 
218 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 secret approval. Mr. Thorn decided that he 
 liked this tall, lean, rather reticent fellow, 
 whose strength and candor and unconscious 
 courage showed in speech and manner, and were 
 written captivatingly all over him when he was 
 silent. The Sheriff of Wasco was a gentleman 
 of the wild country, a man among the finest, yet 
 at the same time full of undaunted, open-hearted 
 youth. Could a father forget how his daughter 
 had been rescued and escorted back to safety by 
 this knight of the new lands? Was it not nat- 
 ural that the heart of the elder should open to 
 him. 
 
 So when the Sheriff stood up to go, there was 
 a twinkle in Mr. John Thorn's eye. " Anything 
 else. Sheriff?" he asked. "Anything else you'd 
 like to see about? " 
 
 The Sheriff leaned against the post of the ver- 
 anda and turned red. He seized his rifle and 
 swung it under his arm, then he smiled doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 " Well, seeing as how if I catch Hardeman, 
 I'll take him back quick, and I might not be 
 around here in the next twenty years — it seems 
 to me I'd just like to say good-bye to your daugh- 
 ter, Mr. Thorn; I would." 
 
 Mr. Thorn chuckled to himself over the bash- 
 ful deliberateness of the speech. 
 
 "And seeing that you might have to fight it 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 219 
 
 out with the outlaw, and that's dangerous — and 
 seeing how long twenty years is, and the debt 
 of gratitude I owe you — you can see her. Sheriff. 
 I'm going into town now. Good-bye. And see 
 here, you just run up to Seattle some day and 
 drop in on me. Old friends, you know." 
 
 Smiling he ushered his guest into the cabin 
 and calling for Myra to come down and see a 
 friend, he deliberately took his hat and walked 
 towards the post office. 
 
 " I like that Sheriff — he's no dude,'' he mut- 
 tered thoughtfully. " Hanged if I don't like 
 him," and his ejes twinkled deeply. 
 
 Myra did not at once appear, and the Sheriff 
 sat alone, waiting, noting the many signs of 
 refinement and wealth somehow stamped in- 
 sidiously upon the place, though it was but a 
 cabin a little larger and finer than its neighbors 
 in Hilltown. He felt himself growing very re- 
 mote. Plenty of money here, evidently. As he 
 thought how much, he grew^ more and more dis- 
 mayed; being certainly and genuinely in love, 
 despite his independent philosophy. 
 
 " A measly sheriff with six hundred a year. 
 I'm plumb locoed," he reflected. 
 
 Then Myra appeared, and, despite the useless- 
 ness of it, his heart leaped to meet her. 
 
 She was not quite the girl he had known in 
 their woodland experiences together; a faint 
 
220 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 aroma of her wealth, of the environments of her 
 home in the city, floated about her and removed 
 her further from him. Yet she was all the same 
 — and more; and despite his pride he found him- 
 self clinging jealouslj^ to the links between them. 
 She might have been dressed in a cloud, so far 
 as he knew, for as he took her hand his mind 
 was on the day when she slept on the hillside 
 and he had watched her bare arm in its ragged 
 sleeve, and had fallen in love with it. 
 
 '^ I've come to say good-bye, Miss Thorn. I 
 must go. I've got to go along after my business 
 now I'm able." 
 
 "Going away. Sheriff? Where to? Isn't this 
 the first time you've come to see me? I suppose " 
 — she paused slightly, — " of course there's some- 
 body in Wasco can't spare you any longer." She 
 smiled, but her chin rose coolly. 
 
 " Shucks ! " he laughed uncertainly, " There 
 ain't anybody in Wasco, or anywhere else that 
 I know of. You see — I came up here on special 
 business, an' I must be off." 
 
 She sat down with a short gasp of fear. 
 " Hardeman? " For a second or two she was 
 his frightened mesa girl again. " Don't go. It's 
 so dangerous. You may get shot." 
 
 " That's a fact, ma'am, I may. But I ain't 
 countin' on it," he answered dryly. 
 
 " I hate to think of your going, Sheriff," she 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 221 
 
 wlii«p*^red. " Give it up. I don't want to turn 
 you from your duty, but I-tliat is, I mean 
 L don't .s-ant to see you killed after all you ve 
 done for us." She was very much in earnest. 
 
 The Sheriff's face was a study. Give up 
 Hardeman, remembering Jeff's wife down in 
 Wasco? knowing, too, what this same girl whom 
 he loved had escaped? But since her unreason- 
 ableness was all on his account, he was not going 
 
 to spoil it. ' . 
 
 "Yes, that Hardeman surely is a bad speci- 
 men • he 'most scares me," he assented in his 
 gentle drawl. " But then I'm a dreadful dan- 
 gerou,« man myself. I know a lady who won't 
 walk with me 'cept she brings a gun along. 
 Thafs a solemn fact," and the Sheriff smiled 
 
 benignij'. 
 
 " Don't be horrid," she said flushing up. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. Had to give her my own pistol 
 'fore she'd come a step. She said I was enough 
 like Hardeman to be his twin brother," he went 
 on, mercilessly enjoying Myra's color. 
 
 " You're mean," she said, " and you're merely 
 evading the present question." Sis banter 
 
 ceased at once. 
 
 " I was flippant," he acknowledged. That s 
 not my real feeling, now I'm saying good-bye to 
 you There are a few things I'd like to say bet- 
 ter than good-bve-but I guess about the only 
 
222 TEE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 square thing is this. Thank you for the pleas- 
 ure Fve had in knowing you, and in serving you 
 a little. Don't you worry about my risk. 'Taint 
 big enough to mention." 
 
 He stood waiting, his eyes regretful but full of 
 a man's stern purpose. She threw back her 
 head bravely and met his look with a smile. 
 
 " And so it's good-bye, Sheriff. That's too bad, 
 isn't it? Do you know this is the first and only 
 time you've come to see me? Do you know I'm 
 going to think of you as Hardeman all the rest 
 of my life — I know you so little as yourself? " 
 
 " My dern foolishness," he admitted sorrow- 
 fully, " I guess I'm going to be punished good 
 an' plenty for it." 
 
 " Well, I don't know," she said judicially, " I 
 rather think you deserve it. I'd like to have 
 come to forget those things and think of you as 
 my friend, the Sheriff of Wasco. But this is 
 good-bye — so there's no chance of that." 
 
 He took a quick step forward, and the steady, 
 eager question of his eyes forced hers to waver. 
 " I guess you don't know what you're sayin' " he 
 said softly, but he was so tall and so high above 
 her that she neither looked up nor answered. 
 " I'm the Sheriff o' Wasco, you see. Who's that? 
 Just nobody — though I didn't think so always. 
 * * * I'm goin' on a long trail, and there 
 ain't any outcroppings of gold on it as I can see." 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 223 
 
 His voice dropped to a doubtful whisper. " But 
 I'd like to come back some day — God knows. 
 '' I'll make something o' myself yet. I'll go up 
 north to the Yukon an' dig out one o' their gold 
 
 mountains by the roots if — if " 
 
 She turned away abruptly, and catching up a 
 book from the table began to flirt the leaves 
 back and forth gaily, so he could not see her 
 
 eyes. 
 
 "Gold?" she said smiling "—gold? What 
 has that to do with our being acquainted in the 
 future?" Then she flung down the book and 
 faced him. " Oh, by the way, father and I are 
 on the gold trail— did you know it? Wo're go- 
 ing out to see his mines this week." 
 
 If this was a hint of her father's wealth for 
 his benefit, he lost it. Misunderstanding, he 
 drew back sharply, proudly— and instantly be- 
 gan to speak about the mines. He was nothing 
 more than her woodman escort, quick and 
 gentle, but masterful— more masterful than ever 
 in his embarrassment. 
 
 "The mines? They're no right place for a 
 lady. Guess I wouldn't go there— not just at 
 present." 
 
 " Mercy, why not?" she said, surprised and a 
 
 little obstinate. 
 
 " Those miners are a lot of bad trash. I'd 
 really like it if you'd keep away from there." 
 
224 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 As always, without exerting himself at all, he 
 produced in her the impulse to obey him. 
 
 " Do you know I'd really like it if you'd re- 
 member that this isn't Wasco, and that I'm not 
 under your jurisdiction," she smiled rebelliously. 
 
 *^ I remember. I'm under yours," he corrected. 
 *' — But, honestly, you will keep away from those 
 mines, won't you? " 
 
 Finally she dodged the question, " I'll take 
 my orders from dad." 
 
 " Well, that's correct," he drawled, " your 
 dad's all right." His point was gained. Swing- 
 ing his rifle into the crook of his elbow, he stood 
 hesitating, his eyes fixed searchingly upon her, 
 his face growing determined. 
 
 " Were you bluffing me when you said you'd 
 like to be better acquainted? " he asked doubt- 
 fully. '^ You see how it is, I ain't ever sat in a 
 game with a lady — an' I don't exactly read the 
 cyards." 
 
 She laughed sweetly but teasingly, and beyond 
 that would not answer him. So he studied her 
 face harder than ever, and perhaps read there 
 the sign that he needed, for catching up her hand 
 suddenly he showered a storm of quick, fiery 
 kisses upon it. 
 
 " So long ! " he whispered ardently, " I'll be 
 back. If I live, I'll be back." He took his cap 
 and cocked it on the back of his head and went 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 225 
 
 slowly out of the door, leaving her there smiling. 
 He grinned hopefully as he plunged along, 
 musing to himself, " She wasn't bluffin'. No— 
 not altogether. She likes me, I guess. I'll get 
 her— I'll get her if I have to walk to the Klondike 
 an' back." 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE SHERIFF AND TALABAM. 
 
 A PREY to his own thoughts and quite oblivious 
 to his surroundings', the Sheriff had gone a long 
 way from Hi 11 town when he suddenly remem- 
 bered something, and began to laugh to himself. 
 
 " By George — there's that hundred dollars ! 
 I hay'n't any particular desire to take it back 
 to camp. I clean forgot about it." 
 
 He mused awhile, then hurriedly retraced his 
 steps to a store that he had noticed as he passed. 
 "What you got for house-furnishings here?" 
 he asked quizzically. 
 
 " Oh, anything from a sardine can to a grizzly 
 hide," retorted the merchant. 
 
 " What did you say about grizzlies? Let's 
 see 'em." 
 
 " I've got the goldarnedest hide of a grizzly 
 you ever saw, stranger. 'Twould make a carpet 
 for a king's parlor — it's worth a clean hundred." 
 
 " That's my size," said the Sheriff instantly. 
 " Let's see the mammoth." 
 
 A great black-brown shaggy mass, prepared 
 
 226 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 227 
 
 with the skill of the expert for use as a rug, was 
 unrolled. One glance was enough. " I'll take 
 it/' said the Sheriff, ^' Here's your hundred. 
 And send it Mr. John Thorn, with the compli- 
 ments of the patrol gang at the camp, in honor 
 of the safe return of the finest young lady in the 
 Olympics to her father. And say, look-a-here — 
 if you squeal and tell w^ho bought it, 111 come 
 around and see you." 
 
 The merchant grinned. " I'll deliver it per- 
 sonal. Sheriff," he said. "You trust me; I've 
 been where you are myself." He winked know- 
 ingly, but the Sheriff was already gone. 
 
 On the way back to camp the man from Oregon 
 sat on a stump and chuckled. 
 
 " I'd just like to see Mr. John Thorn when he 
 gets that carpet. — And she'll maybe think o' 
 me now an' again when she happens to see that 
 o^rizzlv," he mused. " I wonder if she will. And 
 I wonder what the boys will do when John Thorn 
 goes and thanks 'em for their beautiful present, 
 ha ! ha I ha ! " 
 
 He reached the camp and the patrolmen sur- 
 rounded him. " Hand over the dough. Sheriff. 
 Where's that hundred you got outer Butts?" 
 they cried with various degrees of emotion. 
 
 " It's gone, boys," explained the reprobate of 
 a Sheriff. " I spent it all. You wait and you'll 
 know how. You see I'm going soon and I 
 
228 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 thought a present wouldn't jar jou too much- 
 just to remember me by.'' 
 
 Thev were nonplussed, but they took it kindly, 
 seeing that the Sheriff seemed so happy about it. 
 Of course it was their money that had bought 
 the present which was to be theirs — but that was 
 all right. The joke was on them; and they 
 celebrated the departure of the Sheriff of Wasco 
 with vigor and the best of wishes. Butts told 
 him where to look for Chief Talabam, also just 
 to say that he was Butts' friend; and then the 
 Sheriff shook hands all around and w^ent out 
 into the early morning on his dangerous mis- 
 sion. 
 
 The camp was electrified later in the forenoon 
 to receive a visit from Mr. John Thorn. 
 
 " Say, boys," he said pantingly from atop his 
 horse, " I just rode around to thank you for that 
 elegant grizzly skin you sent me to commemo- 
 rate my daughter's safe return. Say, it's the 
 finest thing this side of the Rockies." 
 
 "What the is he talking about?" 
 
 queried some of the men of Jenks. " We ain't 
 sent no present." 
 
 " Hush you I That's the present the Sheriff o' 
 Wasco was a talking about. He ain't sent any- 
 thing to us, you fool; he's sent it to Mr. Thorn 
 — that's same as to the girl, don't you see; and 
 we, ha ! ha ! ha ! we's paid for it." 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 229 
 
 Like a flash the men understood. But they 
 were game to the core. 
 
 " Yes/' remarked the captain in answer to Mr. 
 Thorn, '^ we just thought as how that grizzly 
 woukl be a suitable present for the occasion." 
 
 " It was more than suitable. It was the work 
 of noble hearts, boys. It was a master-stroke. 
 But good-bye all, I must get along.'' 
 
 " Good-bye, Mr. Thorn," echoed the patrol, 
 " i?ood-bve. Glad tou like it. Just a little 
 remembrance." 
 
 They watched him disappear in the distance; 
 then Butts kicked a stone into the gully below, 
 and Jenks threw a rock into the dinner stew on 
 the kitchen fire. 
 
 "What do you think o' that?" roared he. 
 " He sends a rug to Thorn and we pay for 
 it." 
 
 " An' we get the credit for being kind-hearted 
 gents, and have to labor under false pretences," 
 cried another. 
 
 " An' the Sheriff o' Wasco gets us a thinking 
 we're goin' to be the recipients of that there 
 bootiful partin' present, bought outen our 
 money." 
 
 " Didn't feel like spending it on himself. On 
 his darlin' self," exclaimed Jenks disgustedly. 
 
 " ' An the present was the work o' noble hearts. 
 He's a noble heart — he is," echoed another. 
 
230 TEE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 " We're a lot o' mountain slieep — that's what,^' 
 exclaimed Butts finally. " But let's have a few 
 drinks to the young colt anj^way." 
 
 Meanwhile the Sheriff of Wasco had left the 
 shore road some half a dozen miles below, and 
 was ascending into the uplands. All day and 
 night he travelled along the rugged base of the 
 mountain chain, and when the sun arose he was 
 still making quick progress towards the north- 
 west corner of the state. 
 
 He stopped for a rest and for breakfast at the 
 base of a great rock overlooking the landscape 
 for miles around. 
 
 He chose his camp carefully in a spot where 
 he could see everything without being easily seen 
 himself, and went about his preparations for 
 breakfast with the quickness and certainty of a 
 man inured to wilderness life. It was no time 
 or place for the lighting of fires, so he munched 
 his dried biscuit and drank his cold coffee sup- 
 plied by the guardsmen, his rifle close by his 
 side and his eyes carefully scanning the wood- 
 lands and valleys, the far-off peaks and their 
 nearby breastworks rising ruggedly on all sides 
 of him. 
 
 " Guess there isn't much danger. He's prob- 
 ably down at the mines. An' they're leagues 
 away from here. Still he might just be prowling 
 around hunting for bear, or out on a strike, in 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 231 
 
 which event 'twould be cussed foolish for me to 
 give him another shot." The Sheriff's lower face 
 settled into a disgusted twist as he remembered 
 his last lapse of caution. 
 
 '' If I follow this trail till night I'll find Chief 
 Talabam and his Yakimas. The chief's a bird 
 of a red skin, they say. And that reminds me 
 — I wonder whatever became of that little Indian 
 boy who used to chase father's chickens around 
 the yard with me, and who fell into the Columbia 
 river that day." 
 
 He ceased eating for a few moments to smile 
 reminiscently over the memory. ^' That," he 
 muttered, " that must 'a been twenty-two years 
 ago when I was a little kid. The current took 
 him down stream like a race horse — and I was 
 streaking it along the bank giving him pointers 
 how to keep from drowning, when he sank, and 
 I — by thunder how did I do it anyway? And 
 when he went away with his squaw mother she 
 blessed me with her Injun's blessing and the 
 little cuss said some day he would be Chief of 
 the Thunder Mountains, and then he would find 
 his pale-face brother^— Guess he'd scalp me by 
 this time, soon as not," said the Sheriff with a 
 philosophic grin. 
 
 He pushed back his shirt-sleeve and examined 
 his wrist. " Got that tear in the rapids to re- 
 member him by. He was sorter cut up an' 
 
232 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 smashed in his shoulder too. We were a couple 
 of gay kids, if I recollect." 
 
 Breakfast over, the Sheriff bestowed his long 
 body re&tfully, his visored cap wedged between 
 the back of his head and the rock, his chest up- 
 turned to the blue heavens, and his knees crossed 
 lazily and with apparent abandon, and his rifle 
 reposing across his stomach beneath his folded 
 arms. There he fell to ruminating on the extra- 
 ordinary shrinkage which was apt to take place 
 in a man's valuation of himself when perched on 
 some wild mountain side like this, alone with a 
 few of nature's big things, overlooking the huge- 
 ness of the earth that bore him. 
 
 All below him stretched miles upon miles of 
 wooded hills, betraying no sign of the presence 
 of man. Above him soared the majestic moun- 
 tains surrounded by their native stillness and 
 repose, with the vast spaces of earth and sky 
 dividing them eternally. 
 
 How far away from this place seemed the busy 
 world of men, how vain and unreal ! And his 
 own life with its small activities, its strenuous 
 haste, how unimportant it was. Here Life itself, 
 the ultimate being, the everlasting spirit behind 
 the existence of material things, spoke to him 
 and impressed him with a salutary vividness he 
 had seldom before known. The silent greatness, 
 the vastness, of space were here, and here was 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 233 
 
 also his lone, throbbing, human heart, all alike 
 parts of the universal Life. How small and 
 insignificant in the great scheme of things was 
 a man I So small and insignificant that to real- 
 ize it was to feel oppressed at the touch of an 
 appalling loneliness and grandeur. 
 
 Yet, feeble and unimportant in comparison 
 with the whole before him though he might be, 
 there he was, breathing, feeling, vigorous in his 
 day and generation, the conqueror of those 
 mountain steeps, those huge impassive barriers 
 of nature. Man might be little, but he was 
 chief, the highest of Life's manifestations. It 
 was his strength, his power, his ability to com- 
 mand the muscles of his body, which had brought 
 him to this place where he stood, and would carry 
 him when he chose across the most insurmount- 
 able of the peaks. His brain was the matchless 
 engine that should subdue all the other forces of 
 nature, and make him their king. This was life 
 physical, and life supreme, life in its grandest 
 sphere, its most heroic mold, life that gave domin- 
 ance and power over all other things. It was in- 
 herent in man, and marked him for its highest 
 and most god-like manifestation. 
 
 Presently the Sheriff's thoughts went further. 
 
 There were other things besides the life physi- 
 cal, the sovereign dominance over created things, 
 which made man what he w^as. 
 
234 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 He was looking now on another picture — on 
 his life as an engineer down in Wasco, his pros- 
 pects there, which had been rather good; on the 
 call to be Sheriff — deep in his heart he was 
 sternly proud of that; then on the wild scenes 
 that had followed, poor Jeff^s terrible, broken- 
 hearted collapse, the finding of Hardeman's 
 work of desolation. As always when he had 
 these things in mind, a curious, brooding quiet 
 stole over the Sheriff's face, his firm lower jaw 
 set fiercely, and the nature of his thoughts 
 showed in the stern gleam of his eyes. He would 
 discharge his great responsibility. He would 
 justify the confidence of those who had deemed 
 him worthy for such a work of vengeance. — 
 And after that? 
 
 After that he would begin again and build his 
 future from the bottom up. His fortunes were 
 just now at the vanishing point, — but what 
 of it? He had no regrets. None — except for 
 one thought, one dear warm thought deep down 
 in his heart. A man must sacrifice himself to his 
 duty sometimes; else he was no man. 
 
 Duty ! What a queer, apparently insignificant 
 w^ord that was. Yet how it rang through a 
 man's brain. Duty! As his mind heard it it 
 seemed like the call of the ages carried across 
 space to him, raising him immeasurably above 
 that other man whom he had deemed supreme — 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 235 
 
 the physical. With it were blended in his fancy 
 the despairing voices of a woman and a child — 
 Jeff's wife and baby. What were his personal 
 future, his life, his insignificant fortunes as com- 
 pared with that cry? He was answering it. He, 
 man, alone of all nature's works had the power 
 to hear and answer that cry. Yes, the call of 
 duty — that made life. It was greater than physi- 
 cal life. He had been wrong when he said that 
 life physical was supreme, for now he knew that 
 life lived for duty was greater, higher, and far 
 more difficult. It was most worthy of a man. 
 
 And then presently across the kindling ex- 
 altation of his face there crept a deep tender 
 glow, which passed to his strong hands and to 
 his whole live, youthful body, and sent his heart 
 bounding in great throbbing leaps. He w^as 
 thinkinoj of Mvra as he had left her vesterday, 
 thinking with the yearning desire for possession 
 — of her soft, graceful presence, her smiles and 
 sweet reservations that w^ere promises, her clear 
 round voice, and of the love that he knew^ w^as 
 consuming him. He could not tell her of his 
 passion, no, not now, not until his position w^as 
 secure. He was no lowly adventurer to hunt a 
 rich man's daughter, but a man genuinely in 
 love, carried away by the very image of the wo- 
 man he adored. He would not speak yet, he 
 could not, lest suspicion, the vaguest suspicion 
 
236 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 be cast on his sincerity. He was proud and a 
 son of the open West, and he felt thaj, given 
 half a chance, he would win out for love. He 
 loould, if he worked the flesh off his hands in 
 doing so. 
 
 Yes, he was living, indeed. This was what it 
 meant to be a man; to hear the voice of duty 
 ringing its clarion notes before him, and in his 
 every heartstring to feel the agonized cry of a 
 man's great love; to do battle with the best that 
 was in him for both. " Duty and love ! " said 
 the Sheriff of Wasco with muttered passion. 
 " Give me the physical power, the fortune, to win 
 out for duty. Then, by heavens, I'll tackle the 
 love; and I feel that I'll win — I do." 
 
 He gazed awhile into the distant shining 
 Pacific and across the straits to the land of the 
 British, while the mountain breeze whipped the 
 hair on his brow, and the sun beat hot on his 
 brown, keen visage. 
 
 " Yes, I am living now, no mistake,'^ he said 
 softly to himself with a smile. " Now that I 
 know her. I never lived before — never." 
 
 A wary mountain sparrow, deceived perhaps 
 by his great stillness, alighted near him and 
 proceeded to breakfast off the crumbs scattered 
 about. The sparrow knew nothing of men, prob- 
 ably had never seen one before, but the man 
 knew all about mountain sparrows, and knew 
 
TEE SEERIFF OF WASCO. 237 
 
 that so long as this one remained with him there 
 could be no prowlers of any description in the 
 vicinity. He was Sheriff still, as well as lover 
 and philosopher, and he forgot not that once 
 lately his enemy, w^hom he had supposed miles 
 away, had shot him most unexpectedly. 
 
 " Little bird's hungry — but it's dollars to 
 doughnuts he isn't half as hungry as I am. Any- 
 way he's a good watch-dog." 
 
 The Sheriff closed one eye as an experiment, 
 a few^ minutes later he closed the other with- 
 out knowing it, and dozed in absolute content- 
 ment w^ith the tiny mountain sparrow on 
 guard. 
 
 Half an hour or so later, however, he opened 
 his eyes suddenly to find that the little wild 
 visitor was gone. Crumbs were still plentiful, 
 so the Sheriff's sleepy expression vanished at 
 once. Glancing inquiringly about, he noted a 
 hawk, flying toward the lower valley, swerve 
 sharply upward as it passed a little gorge just 
 below him. 
 
 " Living something or other just down there, 
 a heap too close for comfort, and I guess I'll 
 start in an' classify him." 
 
 Silently hitching his rifle to its accustomed 
 place, he melted away from the boulder. Like 
 a shadow on the grass he cros'sed the open spaces 
 toward the gorge and even in that clear moun- 
 
238 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 tain air his footsteps left no sound, they were 
 so light, so certain and swift. 
 
 Once at the crest of the gorge he perceived 
 without difficulty the thing that had disturbed 
 the wild denizens. A company of Indians were 
 setting their tepees beside the small mountain 
 stream in the valley. 
 
 '^ The Yakimas, by George," he thought at 
 once, '' that's lucky. I wonder which of them is 
 Chief Talabam." 
 
 He watched them for a few moments longer to 
 satisfy himself. He knew the tribe, the aristo- 
 crats of the far western red men, fearless, and 
 independent, not yet living in the confinement 
 of government reservations. With them the rifle 
 had not fully replaced the bow and arrow, and 
 the chase after the big game of the Olympics was 
 still their chief means of livelihood. 
 
 The sheriff slung his rifle across his shoulder, 
 and abandoning every appearance of conceal- 
 ment, made for the valley. 
 
 The red men perceived him instantly. Gravely 
 and with feigned indifference to the coming of 
 the solitary white hunter they watched his de- 
 scent. It was easy now to distinguish the leader. 
 The tallest of his band, he stood motionless, his 
 erect, half-naked figure shining red brown in the 
 sun, his plumed head tilted slightly backward, 
 and his broad but clean cut face turned half in- 
 
TEE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 239 
 
 quisitivelj towards the stranger. His hands 
 grasped a long bow, which was braced endwise 
 against a tree trunk, and his whole bearing ex- 
 pressed the authority and half-tolerant insolence 
 that befitted the great chief of the ariGtocratic 
 Yakimas. 
 
 The Sheriff knew at a glance that he was en- 
 tering into the midst of a tribal vanguard, and 
 that these men were but the ground choosers 
 for an encampment. The braves made not a 
 sound or a movement as he stood before their 
 chief, and, unslinging his rifle, threw it on the 
 ground with an indifference that matched the 
 red man's. The eyes of the Wasco man returned 
 the chief look for look; then he offered the dig- 
 nitary some tobacco, and spoke in the slow 
 pleasant language of the Yakimas. 
 
 " The white friend looks for the big Chief, 
 Talabam.— The Chief Butts of the White Walk- 
 ers * sends the Yakimas the spirit of a great 
 hunt.'' 
 
 The bronze figure listened with solemn atten- 
 tion to his ow^n language from the lips of the 
 white man; then it pleased him graciously to 
 unbend and accept the tobacco, and the entire 
 company seated themselves in a semi-circle and 
 the high business of Indian speech-making be- 
 gan. 
 
 * The Indians refen-ed to the patrol as the " White Walk« 
 ers," 
 
240 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 " The Chief Talabam is glad the Chief of the 
 White Walkers remembers. The white brother 
 comes when the heart of Chief Talabam is red 
 with blood and anger, for the braves from the 
 East whisper to him that the great white maiden 
 of the settlements was stolen. The Yakimas 
 know the white maiden, and the braves and the 
 squaws and the papooses cry that she must come 
 back. If Chief Butts sends to ask help of Tala- 
 bam, his braves will go even into the Land of 
 Silence. The land beyond will hear the war-cry 
 of his tribe; for the white maiden must be saved.'^ 
 
 Indian fashion, he swung his right arm in a 
 slow semi-circle towards San Juan straits, the 
 outlying Pacific, and the great Olympics be- 
 hind them 
 
 Knowing now that it was Talabam himself, a 
 native famed throughout these vastnesses, who 
 spoke, the Sheriff arose, and with the dignity of 
 the white man prepared to soothe the fighting 
 spirit of his red brother. 
 
 " Talabam, the great and the proud," he began, 
 his natural, pleasant, self-possessed drawl lend- 
 ing the high-sounding phrases melody. — '' Tala- 
 bam, whose deeds are talked of by white men 
 throughout the settlements of the Thunder 
 Mountains, is the friend of the stranger. The 
 Chief needs not to lead his bands into the Silent 
 Land; for the white maiden is safe. She was lib- 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 241 
 
 erated and now walks in the settlement. But the 
 Chief Butts asks that Talabam himself give aid 
 to the stranger; for the bad man Hardeman, he 
 w^ho stole the maiden, hides in the mines, or the 
 forests, and the Chief Talabam alone knows the 
 trails. The w^hite stranger has vowed to hunt 
 the bad man from land to land, and w^hen he 
 finds him the fight shall be his, for he has come 
 many days from the rising sun and the banks of 
 the great river where the salmon fish run thick 
 in the w^ater. The white stranger will find the 
 bad man, and Talabam can help, but the fight 
 shall belong to the man who comes from the land 
 of Wasco." 
 
 As lie ceased, the Sheriff's right arm made the 
 proper declamatory sweep. Talabam's eyes, fol- 
 lowing it, lighted with a satisfied flash as they be- 
 held the long white scar running almost round 
 the wrist, showing vividly in the sunlight as the 
 sleeve of the coat fell back. 
 
 " The great white traveler must rest," he 
 said, rising again with dignity, " for Talabam 
 has a story to tell to his braves. It is a story of 
 the land of Oregon. 
 
 The Sheriff planted himself once more on the 
 ground in forced patience, and the solemnity of 
 the Chiefs features seemed to break in a brief 
 smile as he viewed the resigned face of the 
 man who had come from the land of Wasco. 
 
2^2 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 " As the light spreads over the land to the call 
 of the sun, so spreads the fame of a great man. 
 So come the echoes of the deeds of the white 
 brother from Wasco who has traveled to the land 
 of our tribe. 
 
 ^' The white brother tells us the maiden has 
 returned, but he tells us not why or how. Tala- 
 bam knows as he knows his right hand from his 
 left that the bad man did not bring back the 
 maiden. Talabam's heart tells him that the 
 stranger from Wasco saved the little white maid- 
 en, and like the great warrior, he is silent." 
 
 The Sheriff started uneasily and waved a si- 
 lencing hand at the Indian ; but Talabam ignored 
 him and continued : 
 
 ^^ Braves of the Yakimas — ^your chief knows 
 the white brother. Once when the chief was a 
 youth and walked not far from his squaw mother, 
 he made the bow and arrow and threw the stone, 
 and swam the great river with a white boy in 
 the land of Oregon. 
 
 " One day Talabam fell into the great Thunder 
 Rapids, and sank and sank again. His eyes grew 
 dim, and his breath came not for the waters. As 
 he closed his eyes for the last sleep a white 
 shadow sped by the banks ; a voice came to him 
 like the voice of the Spirit of Life, and Talabam 
 heard a splash. When he woke to the land again, 
 the white boy, wet and breathing blood from his 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 243 
 
 nose and mouth, was over him. The white boy's 
 arm wa^ torn, and hanging as a broken branch to 
 the trunk. The sharp rocks of the rapids had cut 
 in a circle above the hand. 
 
 '^ The white bov became a great man-hunter. 
 They call him Sheriff of Wasco; and the little 
 Indian boy whose name was Bam became the 
 Chief Talabam. 
 
 " Warriors of the Yakimas, Talabam welcomes 
 the white traveler, the little white devil boy, to 
 his heart, and to the hearts of his tribe. He will 
 go with him on the trail; for Talabam forgets 
 not the Thunder rapids and the love of the two 
 little braves in the land of Wasco.'' 
 
 The Sheriff was on his feet in an instant. 
 
 " Talabam — by Jove. I never guessed," he 
 cried. He brought his hand down on the chief's 
 shoulders and shook him vigorously, and turning 
 him half round fairly shouted, " Darn you, old 
 Bammy — darn you." 
 
 The chief side-stepped, and proudly addressed 
 the encircling braves : 
 
 " He is the same as when ten summers only 
 covered his head. He sings, as he sang then: 
 *^ Darn you, Bammy, — darn you ! " 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 MAN TO MAN. 
 
 Talabam^s broad face was flecked with mois- 
 ture and his breath came hard and fast, for the 
 ascent of the heights had been a long day's jour- 
 ney, broken now and again by a rest of a few 
 moments onlv. The sun shone mercilessly. The 
 glare from the granite of the mountains flared 
 against back and neck in a scorching blast, burn- 
 ing and cutting, blistering and torturing. 
 
 The wind from the Pacific, the Chinook, blew 
 soft and warm, spreading the fog bank over the 
 lands below ; but above on the heights, the peaks 
 were bare and sun-baked. The Indian looked 
 down to the valley hidden by the fog, and his 
 ^yes closed in narrow slits. He turned to his 
 <?ompanion, who, crawling around the face of a 
 boulder, had thrown himself wearily into the 
 shade. 
 
 " Wasco,'' he exclaimed in the white man's 
 tongue. " The camp of the gold workers is not 
 seen — the fog is there. But the new Boss is 
 
 244 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 245 
 
 the bad man from Oregon. Chidwan saw his 
 face and he knows him. Chidwan lies not." 
 
 " Good for Chidwan/' murmured the Sheriff, 
 as he chewed a piece of a twig. " Chidwan is 
 a bird. He flies with his feet. It would take 
 me three days to do what he has done, to go into 
 that camp and return.'' 
 
 " The Indian brave is the son of Talabam,"" 
 exclaimed the chief proudly. 
 
 " He's the son of a gentleman," said the Sher- 
 iff quietly. " How many men did Hardeman 
 kill that day, Chief? " 
 
 ^^ Chidwan says four, and Chidwan speaks as 
 the son of a chief." 
 
 ^' Chidwan's got fire-water inside of him, 
 Bammy. He's dreaming the dreams of whiskey." 
 
 The Indian shook his head firmly. 
 
 " Chidwan speaks not from booze." 
 
 The Sheriff laughed : ^' My, Bammy I you're on 
 to English all right. You've improved im- 
 mensely." 
 
 '^ Me had seven white squaws in ten years," 
 volunteered Talabam. " They come from Seattle 
 and Victoria, and the chief studies the English." 
 
 " Bammv, vou're a storv-teller." 
 
 The chief winced. " Talabam lies not Wasco. 
 Talabam like fifty-seven white squaws, but his 
 Indian squaw not like. She great brave squaws 
 She chase 'em all back with tomahawk." 
 
246 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 " I'm darned sorry, Bammj, old boy. It's sad," 
 the Sherijff glanced at the chiefs sphinx-like 
 face, and bit his lip. Then he gazed silently 
 down into the fog bank two thousand feet be- 
 neath, blotting out the trail, and amusement was 
 swallowed up in the man's fiery impatience at 
 the inert, insuperable obstacle. 
 
 " To-night I'm going down, Bam, to get him 
 — fog or no fog," he said with a low snarl in 
 his voice, his eyes blazing with the fierce hun- 
 ger of the chase. I'll get him alive and take 
 him back if I can. There'll be a fight like as 
 not." 
 
 Talabam nodded, " Me go too. The fight is a 
 white man's fight; but Talabam feels the air of 
 the Chinook, and it carries the hot bjood to the 
 head." 
 
 " Baramy, if you butt in on this here proposi- 
 tion, I'll put a bullet in you. Hardeman's 
 mine/' 
 
 The Indian regarded his friend with a deep 
 stead}^ gaze. There was affection in it, and tre- 
 pidation. Then he spoke slowly. ^' He killed 
 four men. If he kill the Sheriff, the little devil- 
 boy of the Thunder rapids — then Hardeman. 
 mine/' 
 
 " You're the same old red-skin — darn you, 
 Bammy, darn you ! " said the Sheriff, turning 
 on the chief with a laugh. But his face had 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 247 
 
 clouded for an instant before ; Talabam's " if '^ 
 was a grim possibility. 
 
 A silence fell upon the two, a silence that was 
 pregnant with understanding. The red man and 
 the white were thinking of the approaching meet- 
 ing, and both knew well the deep and dire pos- 
 sibilities ahead of them. The Sheriff, young and 
 courageous, a man who knew not the meaning 
 of fear, was by no means oblivious to the side of 
 the picture that might be presented. He knew 
 that his own strength and quickness were to be 
 relied on, and he had consummate faith in his 
 Colt; but he was a man who had learned in life's 
 battle never to under-rate the power of an advers- 
 ary, and he knew that Hardeman was a man of 
 iron muscle and great agility. He likewise knew 
 that the chances of battle are turned by trivial 
 blunders, by apparently unimportant mis- 
 chances. Would the capture of Hardeman be 
 effected by strategy, or by sudden meeting of 
 force with force, or by some unexpected favor- 
 ing chance? The Sheriff would plan out his 
 campaign, he would endeavor to execute it to 
 a nicety — but the possibility of a flaw was al- 
 ways there. The difference of a second in the 
 handling of his weapon, the merest twitch of a 
 muscle at the wrong time, the slightest indeci- 
 sion, if only for a single moment, would be met 
 undoubtedly by Hardeman to the Sheriff's un- 
 
248 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 doing. To face a coming fight, knowing all this, 
 demands a well-nourished brain and steady 
 nerves leashed with the power of will and cour- 
 age. 
 
 The Sheriff only closed his jaw more grimly 
 and the color of his dark tanned face assumed 
 a ruddier hue as he thought of the approaching 
 moment that would tvj him as he had never been 
 tried before. His eyes shone with keen and 
 steady light as they met Talabam's, and the 
 Indian understood. He saw the red hue under 
 the tanned skin, and knew that the devil boy of 
 Wasco, his friend of old clays, was blessed with 
 a heart that pumped strong and full at the 
 thought of conflict. There was no pallor of 
 mental strain or physical weakness; there was 
 cool, nonchalant, expectant, hopeful courage 
 only. 
 
 His eyes kindling with the fire of the warrior, 
 Chief Talabam broke the silence. 
 
 " Wasco," he said, pointing to the Sheriff's 
 weapon, " if the bad man escapes the blue iron, 
 
 it will be body against body and Wasco must 
 
 fight as he and Talabam fought when they were 
 little braves and they were strong to learn. 
 Fight, devil boy, as the grizzly fights the bull- 
 moose.'' 
 
 The Sheriff nodded comprehendingly. Then 
 quietly he pulled from the pocket of his coat a 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 249 
 
 small, dark-red, pebbly stone. Talabam leaned 
 toward him with sudden and deep interest. 
 " From the Silent Land," he exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes," nodded the Sheriff, "^ it's a rough ruby, 
 Bam; but it's all right. I want you to hold it, 
 and if Wasco dies give it to the white maiden and 
 tell her that the Sheriff found it when he was 
 climbing the mesa in the Land of Silence. And 
 say, Bam, old boy, say to her that she might have 
 it cut and put in gold ; and ask her if she would 
 wear it once in a while, pinned to the neck of her 
 dress— just once in a long time — to remember 
 the Land of Silence and the man who brought 
 her home." 
 
 Talabam took the gem in silence, and stowed 
 it safely away in his clothing; and the two 
 watched the distant peaks, rising island -like 
 above the fog bank, in thorough understanding. 
 
 But in his heart the redskinned Talabam did 
 not believe it w ould be his to deliver the mes- 
 sage. 
 
 " When W^asco finishes the hunt for the bad 
 man, he begins the hunt for the maiden. Huh I " 
 There was a sympathetic grin on his face, and 
 the Sheriff felt the blood tingling to his neck. 
 
 "No, Bam. I'm only a miserable Sheriff; no 
 money — nothing. And the lady she's a great, 
 rich woman; and all the white millionaires are 
 after her. Thev want her." 
 
250 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 " What's millionaire? " 
 
 " A man with heaps of money, Bam. A man 
 who has money to burn — to spend — to give to the 
 girl when he marries her." 
 
 ^^ How much money? " 
 
 " Oh, barrels full of gold, Bam. Barrels — 
 rivers — tepees — houses full, full of gold." 
 
 " Huh ! " nodded the Indian, '' Chief Butts call 
 it dough." 
 
 " That's the idea," echoed the Sheriff. " Dough. 
 A millionaire is full o' dough ; that's the word." 
 
 " If Indian chief was millionaire he no fill up 
 with gold — he fill up with whiskey," murmured 
 the Indian. 
 
 " There is very little difference between the 
 red man and the white man. Bam. But I'm not 
 in love anyway." The Sheriff kicked a pebble 
 abstractedly and watched it fall into space. 
 
 " The white hunter, the friend of Talabam, 
 tells not the truth. He loves, and the chief 
 knows it; for the chief sees the blood in his 
 brother's cheek and he sees the falling of his eye- 
 lids. Wasco poor like poor Indian, and he loves 
 a great chief's daughter. He steals her not, for 
 he is a great brave, so he goes on the long trail 
 far from her father's wigwam." 
 
 Talabam had lapsed into his own melodious 
 language wherein expression was easier. 
 
 " Chief Butts is a great man. Once he told 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 251 
 
 Talabam that dough was great, greater than the 
 four winds of heaven. But Talabam said nay— 
 that gold was not everlasting like the winds; 
 also the fair name of a brave w^as greater than 
 gold. Wasco is wise. It might be the maiden 
 w^ould marry him, for white maidens are foolish 
 like Indian maidens; and then for long winters 
 and summers she would weep for the million- 
 aires." 
 
 " To hell with the millionaires ! " exclaimed 
 
 the Sheriff suddenly. 
 
 The Indian shook his head. "No, Wasco. 
 The land of the hot fires, and the everlasting 
 Chinook fog, and the itch, and the thirst that 
 makes the stomach dry, is too much the land of 
 peace for the men with the dough. Chief Butts 
 says hell is too good for them." 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco sat on a rock and 
 chortled. 
 
 " Bam— dear old Bam,— you're the same 
 darned fool you always w^ere." 
 
 The Indian's eyes snapped and his teeth 
 showed white through his weird smile. "The 
 Sheriff must get the dough, and then the white 
 maiden will be happy, for she loves, and her 
 lover will have more than a millionaire." 
 
 " Blame you. Bam, dry up. You've got wheels. 
 
 You're off. Your head is full of mountain air." 
 
 " I know not of what Wasco mean. But he 
 
252 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 shall be as ricli as Talabam, and Talabam can 
 buy horses and cattle and all the squaws in the 
 country; but it no use to him, for his Indian 
 squaw is strong and throw^s the tomahawk like 
 the Evil One.'' 
 
 The Sheriff was blue in the face, but the chief 
 was serious. 
 
 " Listen," he continued, " Wasco and Talabam 
 kill Hardeman, then the Yakima will show to 
 his brother a river that is small as a serpent. 
 It runs through rock and sand into the great 
 ocean, and leaves in the sands dough ; dough that 
 is fine, and dough that is big in lumps like the 
 end of Wasco's finger, and that will fill barrels 
 and houses and tepees. Below us is the mine of 
 the Mandora, but Talabam's river runs a hun- 
 dred times more gold than the mine will show in 
 the lifetime of a grizzly." 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco's face was a study. 
 Amazement, interest, doubt were in it. A new 
 and glorious world seemed already opening be- 
 fore him; it was as though the dream of a life- 
 time had in one moment been turned to truth. 
 
 "Why does Talabam tell his friend this?" he 
 asked sceptically. 
 
 The Indian stepped nearer. " Because there is 
 too much for one tribe. Wasco knows now why 
 the family of Talabam is famous, — dough. And 
 because the devil boy is a brave of a noble neart 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 253 
 
 and loves but one maiden — and because Talabam 
 remembers the day that he fell in the Thunder 
 Kapids.-' 
 
 The Sheriff seized the Indian's brown hand, 
 but the chiefs eyes met his steadily as he went 
 on: 
 
 " The man w^ho loves but one maiden is a great 
 brave. He will make the history of his tribe 
 sung from the sea of Behring to the Oregon. 
 Talabam tells Wasco now^ to love one only; for 
 the evil spirit laughs when a chi^f loves too 
 many, and his first squaw goes on the w^ar- 
 path.-' 
 
 There was a note of plaintive sadness in the 
 henpecked Tsarrior's voice, and the Sheriff real- 
 ized that the woman question was as keen in the 
 great Olympics as in the settlement of the white 
 man. 
 
 He was about to answer cheerily when the 
 Indian swung his hand eastward towarJs the 
 opposite mountain. The Sheriff of Wasco 
 shaded his eyes and peered across the deep val- 
 ley. Now and again a dark spot seemed to fade 
 across the face of the cliff and disappear. The 
 Sheriff studied them carefullv. 
 
 "Men, Talabam? What does that mean?'' 
 he asked sharply. 
 
 " Braves — the braves of the Yakimas," w^as the 
 laconic answer. 
 
254 THE SHERIFF OF WASVO, 
 
 It was clear what the wily Talabam was doing. 
 The Indians were to be in the mountains not far 
 off when white man met white man ; for the chief 
 foresaw that the miners might rally round the 
 new Boss when they saw him in danger at the 
 law's hands, despite the fact that he had killed 
 four of them but a short time before. Birds of 
 a feather flock together the world over; and the 
 western Olympics and the lonely mines of the 
 coast were the hiding-places of many men who 
 asked no questions and expected to answer none; 
 who wished to be removed as far and as securely 
 as possible from that product of civilization they 
 hated and feared — the law. 
 
 '^ The braves must keep off," said the Sheriff 
 of Wasco harshly. 
 
 The other shook his head. "The Yakimas 
 obey Talabam, not Wasco, and Talabam will 
 make one white man fight one white man. If 
 the gold-diggers want to fight the Sheriff all to- 
 gether, then the war-cry of the Yakimas will 
 sound.'' 
 
 " Look-a-here, Chief," the Sheriff was angry, 
 " look-a-here, now, I know how you feel about it ; 
 but don't let the braves come around near me. 
 Understand? " 
 
 Talabam grunted disgustedly. " Yes, I keep 
 the braves away. But the white brother shall 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 255 
 
 not go into the diggings alone; the men are all 
 bad men." 
 
 " Bosh ! " retorted the Sheriff spiritedly. 
 "Alone, I'll go; and I'll get Hardeman too." 
 
 The chief shook his head stubbornly. 
 
 " The little white devil boy shall not go alone 
 — his brother Bammy goes where he goes." 
 
 That afternoon the fog lifted from the valley 
 and the miners' shacks were exposed to view. 
 The desolate little settlement had long since for- 
 gotten its day of insubordination and its dead, 
 and the New Boss was sitting on the step, chew- 
 ing viciously, while the men sullenly slouched 
 about their preparation for supper. 
 
 " To-morrow we'll clean up — an' to-morrow 
 night I'll light out with a few sacks of the yaller 
 from the creek yonder. Never saw the like of it," 
 muttered the New Boss. " Meanwhile, I'll start 
 a game to-night. Nothing like a good stiff one 
 to make the boys ferget the departed. I'll stack 
 the cyards to lose a few hundreds to 'em; that'll 
 make 'em dead easy to handle." 
 
 He was suddenly interrupted. A tall plumed 
 Indian, bow in hand, stalked across the camp 
 from the forest opposite, straight towards the 
 shack. A visit from an Indian was not uncom- 
 mon; but the miners halted in their movements 
 and viewed with interest the coming of this one; 
 
256 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 for he was alone, and they knew him for the 
 Chief Talabam. 
 
 Straight for the Boss he strode, and stopping 
 in front of him remarked: 
 
 ^' The Chief wants whiskey." 
 
 The Boss expectorated scornfully : " Nothin' 
 doin', Chief. Rum and wimmin ain't stoppin' 
 here." 
 
 Talabam sat down on the ground disgustedly. 
 
 ^' Hunt no good," he declared. '^ Talabam 
 want get drunk." The miners overhearing, 
 chuckled. The chief was evidently on one of his 
 sprees', occasions worthy of close attention. 
 
 " Fire-water ! " demanded Talabam, again, 
 " — rum ! " 
 
 " Nothin' doin', Chief; only a game after sup- 
 per ! " 
 
 The Indian looked bored. '^ Talabam wait," 
 he nodded, " no whiskey; then game." 
 
 The eyes of the Boss kindled. He would 
 lose to the boys, but he would fleece this red- 
 skin, and the boys would help. 
 
 The long evening began with the game in the 
 open. The table w^as a couple of boards braced 
 across two stones; the Boss sat on the top 
 of a heavy box, his revolver beside him on the 
 crude table. His assistant and a foreman, also 
 heavily armed, stood carelessly near; but the 
 miners were all unarmed as was the camp rule. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 257 
 
 All hands were watching the game, in w^hich sat 
 fiye — the Indian the most unconcerned of the lot. 
 The Boss lost repeatedly, as he had pur- 
 posed, and the men were secretly jubilant. Then 
 the sign came, and the " skinning " of the Indian 
 began. 
 
 The game was high. Every time that he lost, 
 Talabam grunted, and reaching into his clothes 
 brought forth nuggets and dust, and the miners' 
 eyes glistened with avarice. They had heard of 
 his great wealth, but never had seen him so 
 heavy with gold before. Usually when the In- 
 dian dealt, the pot was his; but though they had 
 a shrewd suspicion that he cheated, none cared, 
 for he was bound to lose in the end. 
 
 One by one the miners fell out, until the 
 Boss was alone with Talabam. There was a 
 feeling of unrest now; the men were afraid to sit 
 in a game where the limit was the skies, and 
 where the Boss was evidently betting with the 
 company's dust. 
 
 Talabam glanced at the darkening sky line, 
 then reaching into his bosom drew forth a bag 
 of nuggets. 
 
 The Boss dealt. All hands saw him " feed " 
 himself an ace ; but Talabam winced not. 
 
 " I go this," he exclaimed, as he put the nug- 
 gets on the boards. It was a heavy hand; the 
 heaviest many had ever seen. 
 
258 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 The Boss called. The Indian had two pairs — ■ 
 the Boss four aces; and the men roared in glee. 
 
 " Talabam damn bad player/' said the chief 
 slowly, as he arose. " The Sheriff of Wasco is 
 heap better." 
 
 That instant a stranger stepped to the board, 
 and reaching sideways, handed his rifle to Tala- 
 bam, without a word. His visored cap was 
 cocked backward, his clean cut face, drawn 
 tense, was young and handsome. 
 
 It was all so quickly done, so silently, that not 
 a soul moved save the Boss, who slid his hand 
 quietly towards his gun on the table. 
 
 The Sheriff hunched his right shoulder 
 slightly, his hand moved downward; then his 
 arm crooked, and a blue barrel gleamed in the 
 evening light. The Boss had not closed on 
 his weapon yet; he lacked the fraction of a 
 second. 
 
 " Hands up, Hardeman — you're my prisoner." 
 
 The voice was ice. The sharp, low words 
 ripped the chilled air like a knife-edge — but 
 Hardeman, quick as the flash of an adder's 
 tongue, closed on his weapon. His bram had 
 seen it all — it was his last chance; but to the 
 onlookers it seemed minutes that the muzzle 
 climbed upwards. Then came a roar from 
 across the table and the outlaw's weapon sailed 
 backwards over his shoulder. 
 
"Hands up, Hardeman — you're my prisoner. 
 
 Page 368 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 259 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco stood with smoking Colt 
 in hand. 
 
 '' Damn you," he drawled, *' I told you ^ hands 
 up ' and I meant it." 
 
 The outlaw raised both hands skyward. 
 There was a bloody streak upon the ri^ht. 
 
 ^' Gentlemen, the Boss is Hardeman the outlaw, 
 and I've come from Oregon with due authority to 
 get him. And the first man who makes a move 
 against the law — will — die — noicf 
 
 The voice was strangely quiet and rather pleas- 
 ant; there was a melodious ring to it, and the 
 youthful Sheriff half smiled as he spoke. But 
 the words worked magic in the attitude of the 
 men. Collected as thev were from everywhere, 
 and mostly of bad repute, they had early felt the 
 tie of evil kinship in the New Boss, especially 
 since the day he had arisen in his might and 
 proved his mastership over them by murdering 
 four of their number. So this man who had 
 ruled them with iron hand — this Scott — was 
 Hardeman, the great notorious outlaw. The 
 revelation instantly raised him to the position 
 of a hero in their eyes, and instinctively the wild 
 outlawry and wickedness inherent in their 
 natures awoke and swung them strongly in his 
 favor and against the Sheriff of Wasco. To be 
 sure, the Sheriff had the drop on the New Boss, 
 and things looked black for him — but what of 
 
260 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 that? This young, lithe, nonchalant Sheriff was 
 an absurdity, talking of law's supremacy out 
 here in the wilds — and to men such as they, 
 who hated law^ as they hated poison. True, he 
 was rated a desperate fighter, but that counted 
 for naught ; it was a foolish matter of reputation 
 only. His voice was mellow and ringing and 
 even pleasant, and that smile of his had no 
 threat in it; he was a youngster making a strong 
 play to theirij fighters and desperadoes from 
 everywhere, and they would teach him a lesson 
 he would alw^ays remember — this* rakish, over- 
 confident fool of a youth. 
 
 A growl swept through the crowd, and glanc- 
 ing quickly one at the other they united upon 
 their action. Hardeman should not be taken 
 thus. This youngster with the cap was no match 
 for men such as they were. His history? — his 
 record? Bah! Moonshine! 
 
 They rushed forward in a body, the assistant 
 Boss and the foreman with weapons drawn si- 
 multaneously. The Sheriff wheeled to face them, 
 and his Colt blazed twice. The foreman toppled 
 to the ground with a gasp. The assistant Boss 
 stood upright for an instant; then his body spun 
 and collapsed in a heap across the table, his 
 lifted skull-cap gaping widely. 
 
 " I'm sorry, gentlemen," spoke the Sheriff 
 again. " Sorry — but it was foolish of them." 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 261 
 
 The miners fell back in a mass, their faces 
 blanched, their eves staring large with fearful 
 surprise at this self-contained, sarcastic young- 
 ster — as they had thought him. Then realization 
 at the flood-tide swept down on them, and they 
 turned and fled. — This was the man they had 
 heard of, dreamed of, dreaded. And how they 
 had misjudged him at first sight. Now he was 
 here, near them, smilingly waiting to be inter- 
 fered with, and they wanted no more. 
 
 The Sheriff turned to the outlaw, who with up- 
 lifted hands still stood as immovable as a statue, 
 the sweat pouring from his face, and his blood- 
 shot eyes riveted on his captor in deadly hatred. 
 
 " Will you come, Hardeman? — or shall we 
 fight it out here, now? " The Sheriff grinned as 
 he spoke, and the outlaw lurched forward, arms 
 in air. 
 
 " You've got me," he cried surlily. ^^ But don't 
 you forget — the girl was mine firstJ^ 
 
 He struck instinctively at the weak spot in 
 his foe's armor. The Sheriff's face turned livid. 
 The veins of his forehead swelled, and his face 
 took on a fury fearful to see. 
 
 ^' Take that back," he cried hoarsely. 
 " Quick." 
 
 Hardeman saw the barrel of the Sheriff's Colt 
 pointing straight at his face, and he lurched 
 away. 
 
262 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 " I'm a fool/' he muttered, ^' you win.'' 
 
 Talabam stooped and picked up the fallen 
 weapons of the dead men and the captive. Then 
 the Sheriff ordered Hardeman's hands down, and 
 the chief bound them securely before him with 
 a rope. 
 
 Once more the man with the Colt spoke, — 
 quietly enough now. 
 
 *' Hardeman, as the Sheriff, my duty is to take 
 you back alive, if possible. If you attempt escape 
 — or if you tell me any more of your damned 
 lies — then it won't be possible to take you back 
 alive. Is the English clear? Now walk." 
 
 Hardeman trudged forward along the trail to 
 the mountains, the Sheriff and Talabam close 
 behind. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 HARDEMAN^S DEFIANCE. 
 
 The Sheriff hurried his prisoner up the trail 
 at a terrific pace. With bound wrists the out- 
 law stumbled and lurched, and now and again 
 Talabam was forced to pull him over a difficult 
 section. Hardeman was meek enough now, but 
 the Sheriff was on the lookout for treachery. 
 There might be a rally among the miners, an at- 
 tempted rescue at some dangerous spot ahead. 
 
 Darkness ^'as falling with great rapidity. 
 During one of the short periods of rest allowed 
 the captive the chief turned and looked anx- 
 iously towards the Pacific in the distance. His 
 companion's eyes followed, sweeping the horizon 
 keenly and silently. Great black masses were 
 advancing towards the zenith, and the evening 
 stars overhead would soon be obscured in appall- 
 ing darkness. 
 
 " Huh ! Chief make for cave," grunted Tala- 
 bam. " The storm comes, with the cold wind 
 and the snow. We are high, Wasco, high.'' 
 
 263 
 
264 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 On they trudged for perhaps two miles, then 
 the Indian led downward a thousand feet, and 
 along a spur of a granite ridge, where the footing 
 was narrow and dangerous. They came out 
 upon soft earth and rock formation, clothed 
 here and there with scrub pines. A few minutes 
 more, and, turning a rocky projection, they 
 stood before a cave running back into the hill- 
 side. The ground fell abruptly from the edge 
 of a small plateau at the entrance, and the not 
 far distant roar of water told of the rushing 
 river below. 
 
 The chief struck a match, and determined 
 that the place was empty. Crawling over the 
 boulder that had fallen across the cave's mouth 
 the three were soon within. 
 
 " Make fire now," said Talabam, '^ nobody 
 come. Impossible." 
 
 Without, the wind whistled stormily, and 
 protected as they were they were chilled to 
 the marrow. The Chinook of the morning had 
 given way to an icy blast from Behring Sea. 
 Lightnings leaped forth, and thunder crashed 
 repeatedly, throwing all the valley below into 
 view, with its trees bending heavily to the 
 blast. 
 
 Talabam collected wood, and soon had a 
 small fire built; then Hardeman, apparently ex- 
 hausted, his spirit broken, flung himself against 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 263 
 
 the boulder, and in a few minutes was deep in 
 sleep. 
 
 Talabam dozed by the fire. The Sheriff sat 
 on a flat stone, his eyes meditatively fixed on 
 Hardeman. His revolver was in its holster, and 
 his hands were clasped around one knee. 
 
 Minute after minute passed while he sat there 
 like a statue in bronze, his eyes showing no 
 weariness, his face stern and quiet and emotion- 
 less. The cold rain had long since come like a 
 deluge, and turned to hail that pounded the face 
 of the mountain without with a din that con- 
 fused all other sounds. 
 
 Talabam shook himself into wakefulness. 
 Then the Sheriff gave him his seat and moved 
 around in an attempt to warm up. Two of the 
 captured revolvers were swinging at the chiefs 
 hip, while Hardeman's gleaming Colt lay be- 
 yond the boulder, where it had been placed well 
 out of his possible reach. 
 
 The Sheriff stood over him and gazed into his 
 exhausted face. 
 
 " An evil spirit, Wasco," volunteered the chief 
 gruffly. " An evil spirit that sleeps.'^ 
 
 The Sheriff was thoughtful. 
 
 "Yes, Bam — a bad man, but he's close to 
 death now. He's a poor devil after all." ' 
 
 The chief spat disgustedly into the fire. 
 
266 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 '' Wasco don't like kill men. Wasco too much 
 tender heart." 
 
 The Sheriff shook his head. 
 
 " The chief does not like to kill either. But 
 the chief will kill if it must be — and so it is 
 with Vv^asco.'' 
 
 They listened to the furious storm. It was 
 raining again. Rivulets from the banks above 
 trickled across the cave's mouth and disap- 
 peared in the sandy plauteau. The river some- 
 where below was now a torrent, dashing vehe- 
 mently onv/ard toward the forest and the distant 
 ocean. The darkness without vras appalling, 
 save when the lightning flashed. Occasionally 
 a dull, curious, grinding sound became audible, 
 which lasted a minute or so, perhaps, then grew 
 to a cracking roar that ceased as the earth 
 shook with a distant impact. The Indian 
 broke the silence of the two men, and there 
 was anxiety in his voice. " The earth moves, 
 Wasco." 
 
 Every man in that region had seen the whole 
 or part of a mountain side slip from its granite 
 ribs, and slide thundering into the valley. Of- 
 ten these slides were small and unimportant and 
 did not materially change the landscape, but al 
 times, especially after a heavy rain, and when 
 the valley beneath became undermined by torren- 
 tial downpours, a large section of the mountain 
 
TEE SHERIFF OF WslSCO. 267 
 
 slopes would break away and rush irresistibly 
 downward. 
 
 Even as Talabam spoke the wind and the 
 rain and the torrent seemed to redouble their 
 fury. 
 
 " Where rests the white maiden and her 
 father?-- queried the chief hurriedly. "Wasco 
 said in the valley below yonder? " 
 
 " Yes/' said the Sheriff, "' at Jones' cabin. 
 There is danger, Bam, that the valley will be 
 flooded with this rain." 
 
 Another interval of silence fell in the cave, 
 while the Sheriff's mind, occupied with this new 
 anxiety, was somewhat withdrawn from the cap- 
 tive, who to all appearance slept. He was re- 
 called on a sudden by a slight, stealthy fum- 
 bling of the bound hands, and he found Harde- 
 man's malevolent eyes fixed steadily and watch- 
 fully on him. It was manifest that the outlaw 
 had been feigning sleep and had overheard part 
 at least of the conversation. 
 
 For a few seconds neither of the two spoke. 
 It seemed to Talabam that the two white men 
 each measured the strength of the other in their 
 silent, comprehensive stare; then the Sheriff 
 leaned nearer to the captive, and his quiet but 
 relentless voice could be heard cleaily beneath 
 the howl of the wind. 
 
 " Don't meddle with that rope, Hardeman, 
 
268 TEE 8EERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 It's your only hold on life just now — and you 
 might loosen it.'' 
 
 ^' You've got my gun. What would you do? — 
 shoot? " inquired the prisoner, braving it out 
 with an evil smile. 
 
 The Sheriff's silence was significant enough 
 for answer, but it did not satisfy Hardeman's 
 accumulated spite and hatred of the man who 
 had beaten him. 
 
 " Loose me yourself. Give me my gun, an' 
 let's fight this quarrel out man to man. Maybe 
 my hold on life ain't any shorter 'n yours if I 
 had your show. Are you afraid to take the 
 chance? " 
 
 The firelight showed a slight flush on the 
 Sheriff's face, but otherwise he gave no sign that 
 the taunt of such a man as this had power to 
 disturb him. 
 
 " You got 3^our chance some hours back, 
 Hardeman, an' lost it," he said equably. " Be- 
 sides which, this here's no personal matter be- 
 tween you an' me. I'm Sheriff, an' it's my duty 
 to take you back to Wasco an' let the law settle 
 with you. That's what I'm goin' to do, though 
 it's certainly violatin' certain private feelin's I 
 hold regardin' you." 
 
 '^ Skulkin' behind yer office," laughed Harde- 
 man, sneeringly. " Couldn't you possibly fer- 
 get you was a sheriff an' be a man fer five 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 269 
 
 minutes?" With mockery on his lips he raised 
 himself on his elbows to a sitting posture and 
 leered steadfastly at the quiet Sheriff. ''You 
 don't think this is a personal matter, eh?" 
 he inquired slowly. " Well, I do. It's a blamed 
 personal matter with me, an' I'm goin' to talk 
 about it." 
 
 " Better not," said the Sheriff. 
 
 But the mocking voice deliberately went on. 
 Hardeman knew his man, and knew just how 
 far the cobweb restraints of duty and honor 
 would hold such a one. To him it was divert- 
 ing to think that they held at all. Xever in his 
 life had Hardeman been guilty of any such fool- 
 ishness. 
 
 " Say, you've got the best o' me, haven't you? 
 I'm talkin' here to you as man to man, but you 
 don't have to listen. I'm in a bad fix. You're 
 Sheriff, an' you've got my gun. I'm all tied up 
 too; couldn't hurt you if I wanted. Why don't 
 you shoot me, an' throw mv bodv into the river? 
 There ain't anybody goin' to ask you questions; 
 an' if they did you could tell 'em it was all in 
 the line o' yer duty. Tliafs one o' the beau- 
 ties o' bein' Sheriff, ain't it?" Hardeman 
 paused; enjoyment curled the corners of his hard 
 wild mouth upward as he perceived the work of 
 emotions on the face opposite; then he dis- 
 charged another shot from his plentiful ammu- 
 
270 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 nition of spite. " No danger o' this redskin 
 tellin' as how you did it because I loved the same 
 girl you did? " 
 
 There followed a tense, doubtful second when 
 the Sheriff's long body tightened as though 
 every muscle in it w^ere preparing to leap. Tala- 
 bam in the shadow grunted hopefully, and the 
 jeering reprobate by the boulder winced per- 
 ceptibly and his evil mouth stiffened. Possibly 
 he had gone too far. Next second he knew he 
 was safe as yet. His captor's strenuous body 
 was nearer to him by a foot, but it had re- 
 laxed, and the look which had brought a vision 
 of instant death had passed. 
 
 ^^ I'm Sheriff. You seem to have got that 
 lucky fact pretty well fixed in your mind, an' I 
 guess you don't count on any o' these low tricks 
 o' yours to make me forget it. All the same I'm 
 human, an' you be careful." 
 
 Again ensued that long, fierce, w^ordless con- 
 test of strength in which only the eyes of the 
 combatants fought; and in which Hardeman ac- 
 knowledged defeat by a loud, jeering laugh, and 
 rolled his body further off. 
 
 "No offense. Sheriff. Thought you said it 
 wasn't a personal matter." Then the passion of 
 violence and wrath burning in the man burst 
 through his thin crust of pretence; his lips drew 
 back in a snarl, and his face assumed the look of 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 271 
 
 a strange, dangerous beast. Rage shook his voice 
 above its vicious, treacherously even pitch. 
 
 ^' Damn it, you think you've got a copyright 
 on love. I was first in that love game, an' 
 you know it. That's what bites you. 'Taint 
 no matter o' law nor Wasco, but just that. 
 Hand over my gun, an' come out from behind 
 yer ofiQce an' fight. Our ways o' play in' a love 
 game differ considerable. I ain't got the nat- 
 ural high tone of a sheriff, but if you hadn't 
 took a hand when you did I guess my way 'd 
 'a won out. You wouldn't 'a figgered — you her.r? 
 — you skulkin' poltroon of a weazened Sheriff." 
 
 The Sheriff heard him out in silence, with a 
 look of strong yet patiently-restrained disgust. 
 Only when the talk wandered toward the girl 
 his hand had slipped downward to his side, per- 
 haps in warning, more likely in anger, but had 
 hung there inactive after the first impulse. The 
 warmth of his face showed whether the words 
 had bitten, but with a quietude of authority not 
 to be gainsaid he brought the interview to a 
 prompt finish. 
 
 " Hardeman, from now on keep your tongue 
 leashed. I am taking you back to Wasco alive, 
 if I can. Perhaps you don't quite catch the 
 logic of that procedure. There isn't a man livin' 
 that would like to meet you hand-to-hand better 
 than I would, but there's a something governing 
 
272 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 me now that you never could properly appre- 
 ciate, an' that's what white men call duty. Once 
 we get back, the boys will give up a lynching, 
 maybe, to satisfy your anxiety for a fight. 
 Meanwhile you shut up tight. Understand? 
 Tight ! '' 
 
 There was an indefinable something in the 
 Sheriff's voice, a peculiar melodious ring — low 
 and rather pleasant. Hardeman had heard the 
 note before, when the Sheriff had captured him. 
 He remembered the end of the foreman and the 
 assistant Boss, and he knew that death was be- 
 hind that voice. With a grunt of malice he 
 turned and rolled himself into a heap by the 
 boulder. 
 
 A long silence fell again within the cave; but 
 as the night wore on the storm began to show 
 signs of abating. Talabam, seated with his 
 back against one wall of the cave, nodded 
 wearily, the dancing light of the camp fire re- 
 flected between his closing eyelids. The Sheriff 
 was still quietly watching the outlaw, who to 
 all appearances had returned to his slumbers 
 by the boulder. Once or twice the crafty pris- 
 oner had turned as though in troubled sleep, 
 and each time that he did so he opened his eyes 
 slightly and with such care as to elude even the 
 fixed regard of the Sherife. Only for a fleeting 
 second did Hardeman's glance turn upward to 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 273 
 
 the roof of the cave, but what he saw there 
 brought hope and patience to his heart. 
 
 The minutes passed by and ran into the half 
 hour; when on the silence and quietude of the 
 three men there came a momentary creak, a 
 sucking sound; and next instant part of the 
 earthy roof above their heads came tumbling 
 down, spreading itself in a slimy mass upon 
 Talabam and the Sheriff, and followed by a 
 volume of water from above. 
 
 The two were momentarily covered, and the 
 awaited opportunity had come to Hardeman. 
 With a spring he was up and upon Talabam, 
 and by one sweeping blow of his tied hands on 
 the Indian's jaw felled him like a log. Next 
 instant he had leaped for the Sheriff, who, 
 blinded by the mass of ooze and water from 
 above, was caught at disadvantage. Hardeman's 
 body struck him with the shock of a catapult, 
 and sent him staggering and sprawling back- 
 w^ard to the floor of the cave. In the same mo- 
 ment the desperado had stooped and secured the 
 cartridge belt and revolver at the foot of the 
 boulder, and grasping them both in his bound 
 hands leveled the ugly Colt at the dazed, half- 
 blinded Sheriff, who was making desperate ef- 
 forts to arise to his feet. 
 
 It was Hardeman's hour. He could not have 
 wished a finer or more glorious moment than 
 
274 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 this of complete triumph over his sworn enemy; 
 and the mocking devil in him delayed his ven- 
 geance a little that he might enjoy it the better. 
 
 " I've got you now, my infant. Got you 
 straight, ain't I? " he inquired, with a low, malig- 
 nant chuckle. " Thought you'd stack up against 
 Hardeman, did you? You made a mistake, sou. 
 You're dead easy, you are." 
 
 Talabam, only half conscious, groaned and 
 made an effort to rise, but reeled back into ob- 
 livion again. 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco, despite the pointing 
 weapon, struggled up to his feet and his hand de- 
 scended to his Colt. Before he could grasp it 
 he received a w^ell-directed kick in the stomach. 
 As the nerve impulses ascended from the solar 
 plexus he felt a curious warmth pervade his 
 frame, to be instantly succeeded by a tingling of 
 arms and legs, followed by indescribable nausea 
 and dizziness. He tried to move, but his legs 
 were as lead; his arms swung before him with- 
 out sensation. With a groan of unutterable 
 anguish he sank to the floor as Hardeman bent 
 above him. 
 
 " Well — w^ell — w^ell ! there goes one busted 
 reputation. The Sheriff of Wasco, eh? Say, 
 you darned litle apology for a lady's lover — 
 what did you think you could do to Hardeman? 
 It's my turn now, ain't it? Where's yer law 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 275 
 
 now? An' saj — where's yer dear, beloved duty, 
 that you spell with capitals? Duty? Gosh, you 
 weazened pup, don't you wish now you'd killed 
 me when you had the chance? Duty! Hell!" 
 
 The Sheriff arose on his arm, and Hardeman 
 kicked him violently backward. 
 
 " Now, Sheriff, say yer prayers," he com- 
 manded. " You first, then that Indian." As he 
 spoke he lowered the Colt in both hands till the 
 muzzle rested a foot from the other's head. 
 
 The Sheriff's mind was clearing from its late 
 dizziness; his brain was resuming its usual, 
 lightning-swift activity. He observed that 
 Talabam was recovering; and realized that, with 
 another few seconds saved, death might even yet 
 be averted. 
 
 " I've this to say," he drawled slowly, faintly, 
 but without quiver in his voice, " Hardeman, you 
 appear to win. But when that gun of yours 
 barks there will be twenty of Talabam's braves 
 in this cave. They are less than a hundred feet 
 back on the trail." 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco knew he held no card 
 worth mentioning, so he bluffed; but he did 
 it so well that Hardeman for a second hesitated 
 uncertainly. Then, with an oath, he shoved his 
 gun into the Sheriff's face and pulled trigger. 
 The hammer of the Colt smashed down, but 
 there was no response. Again he pulled, and 
 
276 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 again. The weapon responded not. Instantly 
 he realized for the first time that it was empty, 
 and in the same second the Sheriff saw it, and 
 his hand descended to his own weapon and it 
 flew from its holster. But Hardeman had 
 whirled and was lumbering away down the soggy 
 trail, before the Sheriff in his weakened condi- 
 tion could rise and follow. The latter staggered 
 outside and down the trail in pursuit, but the 
 wild night and the blackness prevented a sight 
 of the fugitive. He heard the faint thudding 
 of the outlaw's feet as he sped clumsily along 
 with bound hands grasping both his weapon 
 and his cartridge belt ; then suddenly there arose 
 a hoarse cry and a rumble. The earth of the 
 trail shook, and the rocks ahead began to roll 
 down from the higher levels above. The Sheriff 
 of Wasco halted, and stooping to his knees, 
 listened. He could hear a man's struggles in 
 the down-rushing of wet and weakened earth 
 across the trail. There was a hoarse, frightened 
 curse in Hardeman's voice, and then the human 
 words were lost in the steady rolling and grum- 
 bling of the earth as it separated from the granite 
 backing and went slowly downward into the 
 ravine or the river below. 
 
 Awe-stricken by the sudden strange chance, the 
 Sheriff hastily made his way back up the trail 
 to Talabam, whom he found rapidly recovering. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 277 
 
 A few words acquainted the chief with the nar- 
 rowness of their escape and the unlooked for 
 turn of events in their favor. 
 
 " He nearly finished us both, Bam. If only 
 that shooting iron of his had been loaded — " 
 The Sheriff shook his head solemnly. '' It was 
 no foresight of mine that it wasn't. I knew 
 better too, an' 'twould have served me sorter 
 right to have to cash in my checks for not re- 
 membering the rascal I was dealin' with. Guess 
 it must have been you who unloaded his gun, 
 Talabam. 
 
 A smile of ready but suppressed pride crossed 
 the Indian's face as he met the Sheriff's inquir- 
 ing look. 
 
 '^ The Yakima knew that Wasco and the bad 
 man were at war. The Yakima is Wasco's 
 friend; so he emptied the blue iron." 
 
 " You did ! Talabam, you're a big chief. 
 Darn you Bam, darn you, you saved my life," 
 said the Sheriff with deep feeling. But Talabam 
 only remarked ^' Huh ! " shortly and expres- 
 sively; and the two understood one another 
 thoroughly. 
 
 " The bad man's gone ; and he's killed," said 
 the Sheriff, as they peered over the edge of the 
 precipice. 
 
 ^^ It's only two hundred feet, Wasco; the earth 
 moved easily. Hardeman lives perhaps, and he 
 
278 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 has the blue iron; it will not be empty long, 
 for he has the belt and the cartridges." 
 
 '' Damn ! " said the Sheriff, looking helplessly 
 at his companion, his face dark with conviction 
 and chagrin. 
 
 As they stood there angrily silent there came 
 a momentary lull in the wind, and they heard 
 a curious sound rise from below. It was 
 a hoarse voice, full of venom and hatred. 
 ^' Sheriff,'' it cried, " you won the last hand. I 
 win the next. Your girl 's at Jones' — is she? 
 Thanks for your damned information." 
 
 The Sheriff wath a furious oath leaned far 
 out over the precipice, but the chief jerked him 
 backward, and with one sweep of his arm 
 knocked the illuminating embers into space. 
 " The evil spirit not sleep all the time we think, 
 Wasco. Now perhaps he shoot," he grunted 
 fiercely. 
 
 " She's mine now, Sheriff," came the voice 
 from below again, "damn you! think of the 
 love I'll make." 
 
 " We're prisoners," cried the Sheriff furiously, 
 glancing down at the abyss below him, " and 
 that devil is loose out there to do as he pleases. 
 He'll cut the rope that binds him on the edge of 
 some rock, and then " 
 
 " It was the will of the Great Spirit. Wasco 
 could not stay the rain or the storm; but my 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 279 
 
 brother will fight the bad man yet. This is a 
 Yakima cave — a warrior's cave. It has two 
 trails. One to come and one to go. Listen," 
 said the chief, as they started along a passage 
 leading from the back of the cave through the 
 mountain side. " Listen, Wasco, Talabam goes 
 to tell Chidwan to catch the bad man if he goes 
 to the setting sun, and then Talabam goes to tell 
 Chief Butts. Wasco will take the back trail 
 down to the valley, and he will be with the white 
 maiden before the bad man. If Wasco fights 
 may the Great Spirit be with him I " 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A MIDNIGHT VISIT. 
 
 Directly the Sheriff had left her in Hilltown, 
 Myra sped in haste to her own room, womanlike 
 flashing a keen glance in her mirror to see 
 w^hether she had been in his eyes all that she 
 wished. But she saw less of herself than of his 
 strong, romantic presence, bidding her impas- 
 sioned farewell. She held her palms to her hot 
 cheeks, half ashamed. 
 
 " I've been unmaidenly, maybe — but I don't 
 care. I don't care. I simply had to find out," 
 she breathed defiantly. Stepping hurriedly and 
 noiselessly to the window, she watched him as he 
 passed round the bend and out of sight, his cap 
 set backward, his rifie tucked in the crook of his 
 arm in careless security, every stride of his long 
 legs bespeaking fearlessness and honesty and 
 unshakable confidence in himself. 
 
 " Hardeman, indeed ! '' she whispered in deep 
 self-contempt. " How could I have been so silly? 
 And now he's off with that precious money no- 
 tion in his head; and it's so unnecessary," she 
 
 280 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 281 
 
 sighed. " Well, I can-t do anything? I've done 
 too much as it is. He thinks it's his duty to 
 make his fortune. And I'm to remember, please, 
 that he's the Sheriff of Wasco." A dreamy 
 smile, half pride, lit up her blue eyes " Gra- 
 cious, he's lovely when he's stubborn. But I 
 shouldn't think of interfering with him." 
 
 Two days later, when he was already many 
 miles advanced on his journey, she and hep 
 father, that corpulent millionaire, set out on 
 horseback together for the mines. 
 
 Mr. Thorn was happy but anxious, remember- 
 ing what the Sheriff had said. More than ever 
 he was ready to play the obedient parent to this 
 beautiful recovered daughter of his. He would 
 have loved her more than ever perhaps, only 
 that he had long reached the limit of his powers 
 of devotion. Observing that Myra was thought- 
 ful, his mind reverted to " that fellow from 
 Wasco," with redoubled suspicion. Mr. Thorn 
 had repeatedly expressed his good opinion of 
 the Sheriff, but to all his remarks Myra had 
 said very little. This was unusual enough to 
 attract the shrewd old gentleman's atten- 
 tion. 
 
 " That Sheriff now — he didn't mention to you 
 where he was going, I'll bet. He's a clam when 
 it comes to talking about his own business," 
 ventured Mr. Thorn as they galloped along. 
 
282 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 " He told me he was going to make his for- 
 tune,'' Myra called back. 
 
 ^' Um ! Given up the idea of getting Harde- 
 man, has he? Well, it's a dangerous job rather. 
 I don't blame him." 
 
 " Oh, no," Myra corrected sweetly, '' he hasn't 
 given up the idea of getting Hardeman. That's 
 a big mistake of yours, daddy." 
 
 ^'H'min!'' Mr. Thorn's exclamation was now 
 dry and emphatic. '' Funny thing he should talk 
 to you about making his fortune. What d'you 
 suppose he means by it?" 
 
 Myra's pretty mouth curled upward slightly 
 at the corners. " Well it struck me, father, he 
 meant he was going to be a corpulent million- 
 aire," she said innocently. 
 
 " He did, the impudent cuss," snorted her 
 father. '^ W^hy didn't he mention it to me, then? 
 I might have put him in the way of something, 
 just to get even with him for bringing my 
 daughter back." 
 
 "' Oh, I don't think he's that kind exactly — 
 the kind you could pay for services rendered to 
 a lady," said Myra. " Anyway you couldn't half 
 satisfy him. He's going to the Klondike to bring 
 back a mountain or two, he said. His ideas are 
 quite large, you see." 
 
 " Quite modern, I should say," Mr. Thorn be- 
 gan, but his daughter, flicking her horse gaily, 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 283 
 
 had already bolted far ahead. '' Kace me to 
 Craddock's," she called back laughing, '" aud 
 don't worry about the Sheriff. He isn't worry- 
 ing any over you." So Mr. Thorn finished his 
 remarks to the landscape. " Mountain h'mm ! 
 Well, he'll get it, I guess. Hope he hasn't got 
 his eye on anything belonging to me, but I ain't 
 so sure of it. He's the kind that gets what he 
 goes after. And that's the kind I like, by 
 thunder! " 
 
 By evening they had completed the first half 
 of the journey. At night they slept in the log 
 cabin of a woodman which stood in a lonely 
 little clearing not far from the road. All about 
 them was dense forest, and Myra fell asleep 
 with the mournful singing of the pines in her 
 ears, and dreamed that a desperate battle was 
 taking place between the Sheriff of Wasco 
 and Hardeman, while she herself looked on, 
 utterly helpless, unable to distinguish between 
 them. 
 
 When the half-dead victor crawled to her feet, 
 entreating her kindness, her heart gave a great 
 leap of terror. She knew not which of them he 
 was, nor which was the dead man. Trembling 
 with fear she awoke, and slipping over to her win- 
 dow looked out. The pines were cutting a jagged 
 circle in the sky, all sown with the glittering 
 star-dust of a million worlds. The haunting 
 
284 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 tree-music oppressed her with dread. Was her 
 dream mere foolishness, or was it a portent of 
 disaster? 
 
 Her father came to her relief. All uncon- 
 sciously his snores rose on the midnight, gentle 
 but determined, for he was weary, poor man. 
 Myra's fears fled. Smiling, she looked at the 
 starry circle above the pines, and her lips moved : 
 " God keep him — the right one — from peril," 
 she breathed, and feeling guilty but happy went 
 back into bed and slept until morning. 
 
 The Sheriff still dwelt in Mr. Thorn's mind 
 that second day as he had on the first. They 
 were drawing near to the mine country now, and 
 knowing the Sheriff's dislike of the locality and 
 his reasons for it, Mr. Thorn was the prey of a 
 lively anxiety to know how the young man's 
 quest was faring. Was it true that Hardeman 
 was in the mines — the very mines of which he 
 was the chief owner? The old man secretly re- 
 sented it as a ^^ fresh " notion of the Wasco 
 man's, but the question was certainly engrossing, 
 and raised in him the earnest desire to be present 
 should the Sheriff and his quarry come face to 
 face. But he did not desire that his daughter 
 Myra should be present ; and here in the benevo- 
 lent darkness of his mind he thought he foresaw 
 difficulty. 
 
 Towards sunset they arrived at Jones' cabin. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 285 
 
 This had always been their stopping-place. The 
 mines were but ten miles beyond, and they usu- 
 ally rode out to them in the morning after break- 
 fast. Those ten miles were the loveliest part of 
 the whole journey in Myra's opinion. 
 
 The log cabin was not dissimilar to the one 
 in which they had passed the previous night. 
 It was larger and more generally pretentious, 
 and the forests around had grown thinner with 
 the approach of the coast line. Jones, the 
 cabin's present owner, was a woodman; but it 
 had been owned and built in the first place by 
 a rich San Franc^'scan, vdio had come up into the 
 woods and mountains of the Olympics in search 
 of health. The cabin bore tokens of its first 
 ownership in the neglected rose-bushes and other 
 garden shrubs, now rapidly lapsing back to 
 primitive wildness. The clearing was grown 
 high with grass and tiny tree saplings, all in a 
 hopeless, luxuriant tangle, except where a well- 
 laid corduroy path led from the cabin door 
 through the woods to the trail by which the trav- 
 elers had come. 
 
 One might stand at the door and look across 
 the clearing at the scattered ranks of dusky tree 
 forms, following them as they receded and grew 
 dimmer and dimmer till they merged with the 
 vast army of their brethren. Here Myra stood 
 watching the stormy sunset, and thinking — what 
 
286 TEE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 unknown thoughts? — when her father joined her, 
 and decided it was a good moment to try his 
 diplomacy. 
 
 " What a truly lovely spot this is, daughter. 
 An ideal corner to rest in after our long journey, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 '^ Lovely," answered his daughter, ^^ provided 
 you won't snore to-night, father ! " and she smiled 
 on him. 
 
 ^' Shucks ! All a dream of yours, ma'am. I 
 never snore," and he winked atrociously. " I'm 
 afraid you must be dreadfully tired to-night, my 
 dear." 
 
 ^^ Oh, not particularly. I've been here before 
 you know," said Myra. 
 
 " You look utterly exhausted. I almost blame 
 myself for letting you come so far. Don't know 
 Tv'hatever I should do if you got down sick, 
 Myra," he pursued solicitously. " Tell you what 
 now — I've just thought of this idea this minute. 
 Suppose you stay here to-morrow and rest up 
 while I go on and finish up this business. I'll 
 be back by noon, and I'll feel ever so much easier 
 about you. How's that? " 
 
 He put the finishing query with a faltering 
 accent, for his daughter's eyes were fixing him in 
 frank surprise. " Stay here? " she repeated 
 blankly, and then his look of duplicity turned 
 on the light somewhere in her brain, and to his 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 287 
 
 huge concern, she broke forth into merry, scepti- 
 cal laughter. 
 
 " You dear storv-telling old bungler," she cried 
 mirthfully, shaking her finger at him. ^' Stand 
 right there and tell me the truth, sir — for I 
 know it.-' 
 
 '' You know ? " 
 
 "Yes, I know. This is all the Sheriff of 
 Wasco's doing, not yours. Goodness, he's foxy," 
 said Myra, suddenly remembering how he had 
 let her think herself the victor in this very mat- 
 ter. 
 
 "So he told you, eh? Told me he didn't 
 want you to know," and Mr. Thorn felt very 
 much relieved. " Don't be alarmed, daughter, I 
 hardly think he'll find Hardeman down there. 
 It's just a notion of his, you know." 
 
 " Hardeman? " gasped Myra. " In the mines? 
 No, no, he didn't tell me that. And the Sheriff — ■ 
 is he there, too? " 
 
 Perceiving that, diplomatically, he had made 
 a mistake, Mr. Thorn at once made full confes- 
 sion of the duplicit Sheriff's intentions. Ten 
 chances to one it was all an old fool notion, this 
 of Hardeman being in the mines. But the 
 Sheriff had meant well; and, being the smooth 
 but iron man he was, he had bound her father to 
 keep her away from all chance of alarm and un- 
 pleasantness. 
 
288 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 Mjra listened, tapping her foot slightly, the 
 first spark of indignation in her blue eyes giv- 
 ing way to a half smile that looked like a gleam 
 from the cloudy sunset. 
 
 " He's very kind and so are you, daddy. 
 You've both treated me exactly as if I was a 
 baby, and I ought to be thankful," she said with 
 an unthankful rise of her pretty chin. "• You've 
 been so awfully nice I'm going to give you the 
 least little bit of advice: Don't talk about the 
 Sheriff's ' old fool ' notions just yet. If you 
 knew him as well as I do you'd wait to see how 
 they turn out first." 
 
 It was a piece of advice that left her father 
 ruminating suspiciously for the rest of the even- 
 ing. 
 
 At nightfall a tremendous storm which had 
 been gathering all evening burst not far from 
 them. Rain descended in sheets; and the pines 
 roared and swayed and lashed themselves to fury 
 under the whipping of the winds. The lighb- 
 ning flashes revealed the splendid storm spectacle 
 to the watchers in the cabin, but the crackling 
 thunder made speech impossible. They watched 
 in silence, awed by the greatness of it. After 
 an hour or two its worst fury abated, and the 
 forest lay fresh and wet under a clearing sky, 
 hushing itself to sleep with low mutterings of 
 spent passion. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 289 
 
 Sleep did not visit Myra's eyelids for a long 
 time that night. Alternately confident and 
 afraid she lay watching the fitful moonbeams 
 struggling through her small window, realizing 
 all too clearly what her father's news meant. 
 What fearful thing might not be happening even 
 now? She did not fear for herself, — oh no. 
 With her smooth iron man only ten miles away 
 she knew there was no need. But what of him? 
 How was he faring on this deadly task he had 
 set himself? 
 
 She did sleep at last; but some time in the 
 depth of night she was suddenly awakened by 
 quick footsteps on the log path approaching 
 the house. No other sound followed for a long 
 time, though she listened with painful intentness, 
 bravely fighting off the fear of something un- 
 known. At last she caught the sound of men's 
 voices, piched in a low and careful key. Her 
 fears of brewing mischief rose to the highest 
 pitch. Tremblingly she rose, groped about for 
 her dress and put it on after a fashion. Jones 
 must be awakened and warned. But just at 
 that instant she distinguished the voice of Jones 
 himself, and his carefully spoken words left her 
 petrified with surprise and relief. 
 
 " All right, Sheriff. 'Course you please yer- 
 «elf about it. But I'd keep watch from the in- 
 side if it was me." To this there followed a low 
 
290 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 word of dissent, and then the closing of a win- 
 dow. 
 
 But the sound of that other voice had turned 
 Mjra's whole body to fever heat. Helplessly 
 she sank down on the edge of her bed. The 
 Sheriff! what was he doing here? What could 
 have happened to send him here at this hour? 
 Then despite all her consternation a smile forced 
 its way to her trembling lips, and she hid her 
 face among the pillows. No matter why or how 
 — so he was here. 
 
 Scaring up courage she rose swiftly and looked 
 at her moonlit image in the little mirror, busily 
 tucking in her nightgown which was sticking 
 out scarecrow fashion all round her collar. 
 Then she sat down again and helplessly regarded 
 the window. 
 
 " I'll go right to sleep and forget all about 
 him; that's the proper course,'' she declared. 
 " Oh, pshaw — nobody takes the proper course 
 under such circumstances as these." Tiptoeing 
 over she raised the merest corner of the curtain, 
 but dropped it again with a gasp and fled back- 
 ward to the bed, where she lay curled in a heap, 
 laughing and blushing gloriously to her very 
 finger-tips. She had seen the Sheriff out there, 
 a few feet off, his eyes thoughtfully directed to- 
 ward her window; and he had seen her, which 
 was infinitely worse. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 291 
 
 An interval ensued. Then a wet white rose 
 from the garden flew through the upper part of 
 the window, and struck the floor with a thud 
 of appeal. 
 
 " Perfectly audacious," breathed Myra,quickly 
 appropriating it. '' I don't approve of such 
 carryings-on, and Til certainly tell him so to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Another rose — this time with a prayer 
 wrapped round the stalk : " Please come to the 
 window." 
 
 "No, sir; it's after midnight," scribbled Myra 
 severely. She threw the rose back and waited 
 hopefully. 
 
 Back it came. " Important. Do come, please. 
 Isl. B. It has been midnight to me for three 
 daysJ^ 
 
 " Oh, indeed," breathed the g^'rl, her eyes 
 gleaming. " Good heavens, just supposing father 
 happened to be awake." Then she pursed her 
 lips in doubt over the " important," and going 
 very lightly to the window opened it softly as 
 the disturber w^as bending down to pluck more, 
 roses by which to dispatch further entreaties. 
 Three of his long steps brought him to her ; she 
 let him take her hand through the window as 
 she whispered with smiling severity: "Well, 
 sir, what do you want? " 
 
 His answer w^as in his face, so close to hers, and 
 
292 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 dimly illumined by moonlight. Her hand flut- 
 tered slightly in his strong, close clasp. 
 
 " I want to see you — what else?" he laughed 
 in a low, thick, passionate whisper. ^^ There are 
 other things, maybe; but they'd have kept. To 
 see you, that's the biggest want of my life." 
 
 " Oh, but you should have waited," she saidi 
 breathlessly. She wished to chide him a little,! 
 but her face had somehow caught the reflection! 
 of his, and for one sweet, throbbing minute they 
 looked silently at each other, Myra's blue eyesi 
 half afraid, yet wholly glad and tender." You 
 l'7ioto you ought to have waited, Sheriff." 
 
 " Yes-, I ought, but I couldn't. Not after I 
 caught sight of you, you know. Three days, and' 
 then a chance like this! There's a spice of 
 Hardeman in me; you were dead right abouti 
 that." The Sheriff laughed and relinquished his 
 grasp of her hand, his eyes brimming with other 
 and violently restrained intents. " You'll forgive 
 me just this once? " 
 
 " I'll wait and see if you ever do it again be- 
 fore I promise," said Myra, folding her arms on 
 the window-sill and looking provokingly lovely 
 and reproving. " Now about those other things 
 — the important ones? " 
 
 This broke the spell for a moment. 
 
 *' Which things? " he inquired with innocence, 
 but business like. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 293 
 
 " Don't pretend. The things about Hardeman, 
 of course," she said severely, '^ I got it all out 
 of father last night." 
 
 " Pshaw, your father's no disciplinarian. He 
 ought to keep you in better order," he grinned- 
 " Well, if you know, there ain't anything for 
 me to tell." 
 
 '^ Yes, there is. Sheriff what are you doing 
 here, at this hour of the night? Don't make a 
 baby of me," she pleaded eagerly. 
 
 But he would not tell her the whole story, be- 
 cause the reserve which men of deeds feel in talk- 
 ing of their purposes was strong in him, at least 
 until his purpose should be accomplished. He 
 was on the trail of that rascal Hardeman finally, 
 he said. This, joined to some slight anxiety on 
 her account, had led him to the cabin, where he 
 meant to keep watch until morning, Y\hen it 
 was his urgent desire that she and her father 
 would abandon their proposed stay in the neigh- 
 borhood and go at once under his escort back 
 to Hilltown. She was not to feel alarmed of 
 course. But his plan was best, beyond question. 
 Let her put herself implicitly under his direction 
 and he would guarantee that no harm would 
 come to her. 
 
 For the moment his eyes had grown keen and 
 hard. Little of him was lover now. He was 
 the indomitable Sheriff, giving his fighting 
 
294 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 orders, and not to be thwarted even by so im- 
 portant a young lady as Myra Thorn. 
 
 Recognizing this, Myra's soul at once fell down 
 in secret worship before him. 
 
 '^ But suppose/' she said, a little breathlessly, 
 " suppose he comes to-night ! You have no shel- 
 ter." 
 
 A laugh like a low grunt issued from the 
 Sheriff's throat. "Wish he ivould, but I guess 
 there's no such luck," and Myra suddenly under- 
 stood much she had heard concerning him, as 
 well as her own utter and adoring absence of 
 all fears on his account. 
 
 " I'll be ready and I'll have father ready, cer- 
 tainly," she said softly, raising her hands to 
 draw down the window " — good-night." 
 
 But in a flash the grim warrior was merged 
 into the grim ardent lover. Taking advantage 
 of her attitude his long arm shot out swiftly and 
 detained her, and in fiery whispers he was en- 
 treating : 
 
 "Don't go; don't punish me like that. I've 
 been wasting time talking. You think for one 
 minute, I'd get you out here to discuss that 
 dog Hardeman and his ways? Be hanged to 
 him! " 
 
 The passionate yet gentle force of his arm 
 took Myra's strength from her. Feebly protest- 
 ing " to-morrow — to-morrow," she strove to loose 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 295 
 
 it, but could not fight her love of this stern 
 tempest of a man, the bursting flood of whose 
 passion was a torrent. 
 
 "To-morrow to the dickens! Now!^^ he 
 breathed in soft triumph. '^ You see, I love you, 
 and I've found that fortune. Remember what 
 jou said about that?" 
 
 '' No, I cared nothing for your fortune." she 
 denied, flashing out brilliantly at him. 
 
 '' Ah, but I did. It had to be a part of me. 
 Oh, I love you — / love you! '■ and then, save for a 
 long sigh of happiness, he became as silent as 
 the trees of the forest. 
 
 " Will you have me, Myra, for better or 
 worse? " he demanded presently in a w^hisper 
 of delight. 
 
 " I certainly won't promise you at any such 
 unearthly hour as this," said his captive, her 
 lips tingling from furious impact, yet smiling 
 adorably on him. " If you were any one in the 
 world but the Sheriff of Wasco, I'd call father," 
 she whispered. " But oh, being you, I do love 
 you." 
 
 Struggling for speech and breath, she resumed 
 after an interval, her hair fallen across his arms, 
 her eyes bright and dewy : " No, sir, — not once 
 again. Let me go. Yes, to-morrow, perhaps. 
 What hours they do choose in Wasco for calling 
 on a lady," and with her hand against his eager 
 
296 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 persuasive lips she fled backward through the 
 window, then drew it down. So, shaking his 
 head disapprovingly, he picked up his rifle and 
 betook himself to watch for a certain Mr. Harde- 
 man, outlaw and escaped prisoner of his, who he 
 hoped might incautiously w\^nder into that vi- 
 cinity. 
 
 His vigil, however, went without reward, so 
 far as Hardeman was concerned. 
 
 But some hours later, when the sky overhang- 
 ing the great American continent to the east- 
 ward w^as turning pink and gold behind the 
 jagged pine crests, Mr. Thorn, being an early 
 riser, made a discovery, and the result of it sent 
 him full of important news to his daughter's 
 door. 
 
 ^* Myra, my dear, you'll have to hurry. I guess 
 you were right last night — er, about the Sheriff. 
 He's here, and he's seen Hardeman " 
 
 "Gracious! you don't say so. The Sheriff?" 
 said a queer voice within. 
 
 " Fact. He got the villain right in my mines 
 as he expected. But there was a bad mishap, a 
 landslide on Flower Butte, and in the mix-up 
 Hardeman was separated and got off — with- 
 out a scratch too, I guess. Poor Sheriff feels 
 bad over it; but he'll get him again soon, and 
 I'd certainly hate to be that outlaw. Meantime 
 he wants to get us straight back to Hilltow^n out 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 297 
 
 of the mess* — and I think, daughter, we'd better 
 pull up stakes right after breakfast, and go." 
 
 " Good Heavens, a landslide ; and he never 
 once — . Oh yes, I'm coming. I've simply got 
 to make myself a bit presentable on Mr. Jones' 
 account, but I'll be right out, daddy." 
 
 " Landslide ! I guess there were two of them," 
 she whispered, as she smoothed out the hair 
 which the Sheriff's hand had smoothed. ^' How 
 strong he is. And oh — " here she stretched 
 her arms deliciously, ^' how very, very happy I 
 am. Thank God," and her lips trembled, " his 
 first landslide didn't seem to have affected him 
 very seriously." 
 
 Half an hour later the cavalcade of three 
 bade farewell to their host of the night and sped 
 rapidly away, the Sheriff on the further side of 
 Myra, riding Jones' borrowed horse. They 
 traveled fast, for he was anxious to make the 
 journey that same day. Several times during 
 the morning Myra wondered whether she really 
 knew her lover. Now that he was on the trail, 
 bent on the peculiar business she knew of, the 
 veil of his reserve was perfect. He was all 
 Sheriff, this handsome, easy rider, who listened 
 to her father's gossip with almost lazy gentleness, 
 his hard swift glances meantime sweeping every 
 spot of concealment on the hillside. To herself 
 he accorded the unimpeachable courtesy he 
 
298 TEE SEERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 would have given any lady in his charge, while 
 all the time his twelve-hour-old kisses burned her 
 memory, and only an occasional volcanic smolder 
 in his gray-blue eyes as they rested on her be- 
 trayed that he too remembered. Often he rode 
 ahead to reconnoiter some turn where the 
 trail grew narrow and the woods approached 
 too close; for Hardeman had not appeared, and 
 he feared that the wily outlaw would double and 
 make for some hidden point in the road ahead 
 of them. 
 
 Late in the forenoon they descried a solitary 
 red man running swiftly along the uplands in 
 their direction. The surefootedness and agility 
 of the antelope were in his tireless, graceful 
 leaps, his chest and head were bent forward, his 
 arms moved but slightly at his sides and his long 
 bow swung before his breast. They watched him 
 admiringly as he came swiftly on to intercept 
 them. 
 
 " It's Talabam,'' said the Sheriff, with a low 
 chuckle of satisfaction, " Talabam returning 
 from Butts' camp. The Chief has been on the 
 run for hours." 
 
 They halted and greeted the Indian, who stoic- 
 ally returned their salutations. His business 
 was with the Sheriff, whom he drew aside for 
 hasty consultation. 
 
 " Away, Wasco," he said briefly, '"^ away to the 
 
 / 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 299 
 
 camp with the maiden. The bad man is yonder, 
 only half a mile above, trailing you." 
 
 ^'He is— eh?" drawled the Sheriff. "And 
 you, Bammy? you're on foot, old fellow; how 
 about you? " 
 
 " Talabam will run with the millionaire. The 
 chiefs legs are swift, and his eyes are keen. Go, 
 Wasco, with the maiden. Talabam is Wasco's 
 friend and will keep the millionaire away." 
 
 There was command in the chiefs voice and a 
 deep twinkle in his eyes. " Talabam will take 
 the old warrior," he exclaimed hurriedly. " Go." 
 
 In this new order they dashed along. The 
 Sheriff and Myra were soon well in advance, Mr. 
 John Thorn suiting his speed to the Indian, who 
 now and again slackened to look back to where 
 the outlay/ might be, and incidentally to let the 
 two lovers get farther away. 
 
 Talabam and Mr. Thorn talked but little, for 
 the father was anxious and the Indian reticent. 
 Occasionally the man on horseback looked down 
 at the easy running red man, plumed and rugged, 
 and wondered if the chief were possibly schem- 
 ing to separate him from his daughter and to 
 favor the Sheriff. But poor Mr. Thorn could 
 not fathom the depths of the Indian nature. He 
 made up his mind that if it was a scheme on 
 the Indian's part, it was working to perfection. 
 So all he could do was to smile to himself and 
 
300 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO, 
 
 thank his stars that he was on horseback, and 
 running away from the outlaw as fast as he 
 could. 
 
 Meanwhile the Sheriff, far ahead, had cast 
 Hardeman and all his ways behind for the pres- 
 ent, and turned his thoughts to his lady and love. 
 
 At a certain leafy spot where the boughs 
 arched above them, the fire within him would 
 no longer be restrained. Checking the horses, 
 with a low cry of " Myra," he opened his arms, 
 and the girl, half willing, half resisting, had 
 gone into them. 
 
 " Now I know I'm your lover. Last night I 
 was scared it was a dream of mine,'' he said. 
 
 " You scared ! " she laughed in tender mock- 
 ery. " I could almost feel sorry for your out- 
 law, since I know what he will have to en- 
 counter." 
 
 The Sheriff silenced the flattery. " About 
 Hardeman. You know I have a score to settle 
 with him worse even than his trvino- to rob me 
 of you," he said gravely. And as they rode on, 
 his hand tightly clasping hers, he told her as 
 much of the story of Jeff's wife as a lover might 
 tell. " When I got up here near the camp, and 
 I heard about you, something like ice struck me 
 — I guess now it was a premonition — and I 
 pushed on after the beast, night and day, mad to 
 get him. I missed him, but I got you. I guess I 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 301 
 
 was in time, Myra, wasn't I?'' Earnestness 
 made the question scarcely audible. It was one 
 which had been burning the Sheriff's soul for 
 days. 
 
 " Yes, yes. . . . But oh, it was horrible," 
 she said with a shiver at the remembrance of that 
 night before his coming. 
 
 "What! He didn't dare to hurt you?" the 
 muscles of the Sheriff's hands were like steel 
 springs, and warmed by the very savagery of 
 her lover, Myra laughed at the vanished hor- 
 ror, her eyes shining on him through grateful 
 tears. 
 
 " No, I threw him off. I flirted and laughed 
 at him ... I hoped some one would come. 
 I made believe I liked him, and so I kept him 
 down somehow. But faugh ... he kissed 
 me once." 
 
 " The devil ! I'll cut his lips off : " growled the 
 Sheriff fiercely. 
 
 " Then you came. And though I didn't know 
 you, I felt safe, my Sheriff," she whispered softly, 
 smoothing him down. " No, no — Oh, you're too 
 greedy. I shall have to begin and keep count on 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, very well," he retorted, " Now if you 
 won't smile at me for the next five minutes, I'll 
 relate to you how I found my fortune." But he 
 made her laugh while he told of poor Talabam's 
 
302 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 troubles with the woman question, and his de- 
 spairing generosity with his river of gold. 
 
 More gravely he spoke of himself. To lead a 
 fearless, dare-devil sort of life, and to be known 
 as an expert with his gun, had pleased him once, 
 some time ago. Lately he had grown dissatisfied, 
 and thought a man should have some better ac- 
 count to show for his life. Such work was good 
 enough for boys, perhaps. Then he had met her, 
 and fallen in love. As a poor Sheriff with little 
 but his name and six hundred a year, he 
 should never have spoken, how^ever. It might 
 have been long before he would have felt at 
 liberty. Now, through the red man's friendship, 
 and with his gift as a starter, he hoped very 
 shortly to make a place and honor for himself in 
 the world. 
 
 So all afternoon they rode alone beneath leafy 
 canopies, faithful Talabam keeping well in the 
 rear; and no eyes but Myra's saw her Sheriff in 
 his role of lover, and no ears but hers heard his 
 ardent wooing. 
 
 Night approached and the camp of the patrol 
 became dimly visible to them. The Sheriff flung 
 himself from his horse and came and stood beside 
 her, his arms resting on either side of her on 
 the animal's back. Deep twilight was on his 
 face, and in his eyes the yearning of a strong 
 man's love. 
 
All the afternoon they rode alone beneath the leafy canopies. 
 
 Page 802 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 303 
 
 " I^m going back on the trail to-morrow, little 
 woman. I shan't see you in private again until 
 — until Fve finished that business. Give me 
 your good-night here." And taking her from 
 her horse he held her long in his steady arms, 
 while he took a lover's good-night from her lips. 
 
 " For a day or two," he whispered ; and then 
 taking the bridles of the horses, he led them into 
 camp, with Myra walking beside him, Mr. Thorn 
 and Talabam coming rapidly in the rear. 
 
 Myra and her father shortly retired to the 
 large cabin, for they were to remain that night 
 at the camp. Outside, where the camp fire 
 glow^ed, the Sheriff became the centre of a good- 
 natured, admiring crowd. 
 
 " Where's the outlaw? " drawled Jenks slyly. 
 " You went arter him, didn't you. Sheriff? " 
 
 " Shut up, Jenks ; he'll get the bad man all 
 right," smiled another, " but he had to get the 
 lady first, you know." 
 
 " Seems to me," mused Butts, " that it looks 
 like a weddin' march, this here return to camp. 
 Talabam, you deep-dyed redskin, what did you 
 do to the old man to keep him so far behind? " 
 
 The Sheriff' was red in the face, and chewing 
 his lip; but Talabam came to the rescue and 
 began to limp. 
 
 " The Chief of the Yakimas," he explained, 
 
304 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 " had a bad leg ; and the millionaire's horse was 
 aged.'' 
 
 They roared. But the abashed Sheriff stood 
 his ground. " You boys don't want to get too 
 merry," he said. " Remember the outlaw is here- 
 abouts; he's due to drop around unexpected," 
 saying which he made off for the kitchen and 
 the care of Yang Foo and Yang Ko. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE RECKONING. 
 
 Late that night the patrol captain and the 
 Sheriff, with Talabam, talked long and seriously 
 about the possibility of the outlaw's striking in 
 some unexpected way. They knew that revenge 
 would be his impelling motive now; and finally 
 it was decided that the Indian should betake 
 himself to the heights above and keep watch. 
 If he saw aught of Hardeman skulking in the 
 proximity of the camp he was to signal to the 
 Sheriff and the guards, who would remain under 
 cover. 
 
 Morning came with its gray haze, and its 
 gentle wind, and the Sheriff and Butts, who had 
 rested but little, went to the large cabin for an 
 early breakfast with Mr. Thorn and Myra. It 
 was a joyous meal to the girl and her father; 
 but the two others were preoccupied, and their 
 anxiety was but poorly concealed. 
 
 Myra was pouring the Sheriff's coffee, when 
 a penetrating distant cry came suddenly to their 
 ears. It sounded like the cry of a night-hawk, 
 and Mr. Thorn and Myra paid no heed to it ; but 
 the Sheriff and Butts exchanged glances. It 
 
 305 
 
306 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 came again, this time for all the world like the 
 crj of a bird robbed of its prey, sharp and angry, 
 but far off. 
 
 The Sheriff knew well its meaning. It was the 
 imitative voice of the Indian, and the message it 
 conveyed was that the outlaw was near and com- 
 ing nearer. 
 
 " Here, Sheriff, take the coffee ; you look tired 
 out," said Myra entreatingly. 
 
 " Thanks, I will,'' was the quiet answer, " but 
 first I must step outside. I forgot to tell Tala- 
 bam something about that horse of mine." 
 
 " That horse ! Oh, Sheriff, you're too careful ; 
 drink a cup first anyway." 
 
 The Sheriff walked towards the door, shaking 
 his head laughingly. " No, thanks — I must be 
 going. Fm afraid something may be wrong with 
 the nag's hoof, don't you see? " 
 
 " Oh ! you and your borrowed horse," retorted 
 Myra, tossing her head. " Go along then, and 
 let us see you when you've doctored him." 
 
 The Sheriff smiled in reply, and then managed 
 to pitch unceremoniously into Butts, who stood 
 near the door. As he grasped the captain in an 
 apparent endeavor to steady himself he whis- 
 pered : " Keep them here ; keep this door closed. 
 It's Talabam's signal : Hardeman's outside ! " 
 
 Butts was keenly alive to the situation. With 
 a harsh laugh he helped the other to his feet. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 307 
 
 " You^re embarrassed, ain't you, Sheriff. Take 
 the other door," he murmured quickly. It was 
 all he could do or say; the anxiety of life and 
 death had come so suddenly. 
 
 Quick as a flash the Sheriff of Wasco glided 
 towards the small back door. He paused momen- 
 tarily and, looking back, smiled at Myra. '' I'm a 
 clumsy brute," he said, ^' pardon me." Then the 
 door closed softly behind him. Butts turned 
 coolly and locked the front door; then he stood 
 by the one whence the Sheriff had made his 
 exit. 
 
 But Myra was quick of perception and de- 
 tected the gravity in Butts' face. She leaped to 
 her feet, and seizing his arm looked keenly at 
 him. '-What is it? What is it?" she pleaded. 
 
 " Hush, be still," whispered the captain, '* If 
 you value the Sheriff's life, be still." 
 
 Myra shrank into her father's arms. " It's 
 coming, father; — I know it," she murmured, 
 fear-stricken. 
 
 Mr. Thorn stroked her hair gently. ^' Silence, 
 daughter," he whispered. '' He's a brave man." 
 
 She tumbled her head on his breast and shud- 
 dered with the terror of it. " He'll be killed," 
 she sobbed, '^ he's in danger — awful danger." 
 
 '^ If you mean the outlaw — you're dead right," 
 volunteered Butts in an endeavor to quiet the 
 girl's fears. " The Sheriff's got a disagreeable 
 
308 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 piece of business ahead, but lie don't shirk no 
 duty.'' 
 
 He was interrupted. A low cry of surprise, of 
 mingled fright and fury, came from the front of 
 the house ; then the voice of the Sheriff rang out 
 quick and harsh. 
 
 " Drop that gun." 
 
 The answer was an oath and a shot, and those 
 within heard the impact of two bodies as they 
 came together with a fearful crash. 
 
 Butts slid out of the door and the night-shift 
 came tumbling from their quarters in answer to 
 the commotion. 
 
 Mr. Thorn closed the door and facing Myra 
 held her away from it. She struggled to release 
 herself, but her father conquered. " It's not fo.v 
 us," he insisted, " it's not for us to see." 
 
 Butts and the others beheld two men in a fear- 
 ful embrace. Hardeman's Colt was lying on the 
 ground near by and the Sheriff's had fallen a 
 few feet away. He had evidently lost it while 
 disarming the outlaw. On the Sheriff's left arm 
 was a bloody streak. Hardeman's shot had 
 wounded him, but had not prevented the light- 
 ning-like closing in. 
 
 A voice rang out, clear and melodious, with the 
 curious Indian accent : " Fight Wasco — fight 
 like the grizzly fights the bull-moose." 
 
 It was Talabam who, tall and majestic, entered 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 309 
 
 the clearing and instinctively the men made 
 room for him. 
 
 The Sheriff of Wasco and Hardeman were 
 reeling and straining, the deep spasmodic grunts 
 and the heavy breathing telling of the power in 
 the embrace. Suddenly the Sheriff freed him- 
 self, and as Hardeman rushed head down to 
 close in, he dealt the outlaw a fearful swing- 
 ing blow upon the necli and the rush was 
 stopped. 
 
 Hardeman staggered, then collected himself. 
 The sweat was pouring down his face. He was 
 the color of leaden paint. His mouth jerked in a 
 spasmodic attempt to speak; he was wild, fur- 
 ious. The Sheriff had caught him, despite his 
 cleverness, and he realized that the officer of the 
 law was strong, strong as steel. 
 
 Looking the outlaw squarely in the blood-shot 
 eyes, the Sheriff spoke: 
 
 " Shall I take you, Hardeman? — or will you 
 fight it out here now? " 
 
 " Hell," raged the other. " All you can do is 
 to take the girl — and I had her first." 
 
 The Sheriff's face blanched at the insult, then 
 the red blood mottled his cheeks. His chest 
 heaved with the effort at self-control. All eyes 
 were on him now. 
 
 '' Hardeman," he said slowly, his lip curling. 
 " I was going to take you back ; but now it's 
 
310 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 between us here. You are siicli a damned liar, 
 you're going to die." 
 
 The next instant the shock of Hardeman's 
 flying form came crashing against his shoulders. 
 There was a twisting and heaving of bodies, a 
 momentary silence, and then Hardeman was 
 thrown violently backward. On he came again 
 like a bull; the Sheriff's fists met him full on the 
 neck and jaw, but he only shook his head like a 
 terrier and dove into the other, grasping him by 
 the waist. They were locked now for a moment, 
 and the bystanders marvelled at the similarity in 
 figure and face of the two. The Sheriff was 
 slightly lighter, and his face bore none of the 
 innate brutality of the outlaw's; but all told, 
 they were marvelously alike for two who were 
 no blood kin. 
 
 Hardeman bore the other to the ground and 
 for several minutes they fought on in silence. 
 Now and again a fierce grunt or a deep sighing 
 breath told of the strain. Then, with a sudden 
 turn, the Sheriff was again free and on his feet. 
 Both men were now nearly naked above the 
 waist, shirts were ripped and destroyed in their 
 fury, and both were bloody. The outlaw's face 
 was hanging one-sided and his neck was oozing 
 blood; the Sheriff's chest was opened from 
 shoulder to breast, and a great gaping wound ex- 
 posed the muscles beneath, such had been the 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 311 
 
 power and strength of Hardeman's grip as it tore 
 under his arm. 
 
 The savage glint of the contestants' eyes, the 
 heavy breathing, the blood, and the damage that 
 had been done in that first wild attack and re- 
 pulse, bore witness that this was no ring fight 
 with seconds and sponges, that might last round 
 after round, and whose object was a knockout, 
 simply. This was a fight to the death. The last 
 grapple was on in earnest. It was plain that 
 victory would come suddenly, as it usually does 
 on such occasions, and it would come to the man 
 who secured the first great advantage, whose 
 strength, or agility, or headwork allowed him to 
 first seriously injure his enemy. When men fight 
 to the death things are quick, for the emotionf? 
 are predominant, and there are no rules to 
 hamper the fighting fury, — the primeval instinct 
 that lies hidden in man underneath all the re- 
 finements of all ages, and which when fully 
 roused is not to be governed by any of the laws of 
 civilization. 
 
 The Sheriff circled the outlaw and then rushed 
 in. But Hardeman fought him off like a tiger, 
 and he seemed to weaken for a moment. Harde- 
 man came on tow^ard him like a tornado. Sud- 
 denly the Sheriff rallied from his apparent 
 weakness and swung a terrific right onto the out- 
 law's jugular as he side-stepped the latter's rush. 
 
312 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 Hardeman, great as lie was, had met liis match. 
 The Sheriff was brainy as well as agile and 
 strong; and the other had lacked the power of 
 perception to understand that he had not been 
 in real distress. All eyes Avere bent on the 
 Sheriff as his enemy plunged ahead after that 
 staggering blow, turned, and came back. Harde- 
 man was half dazed; he reeled; and his giant 
 arms' swung heavily before him, but on he came 
 and hurled himself wildly against his foe. Again 
 the sounds of sickening blows delivered at close 
 quarters against moist flesh resounded in quick 
 succession. 
 
 A sudden thud, and Hardeman's head jerked 
 viciously sideways as the Sheriff's fist reached it, 
 ripping away an ear. Then Hardeman's mouth 
 closed on the Sheriff's arm, and the two fell to 
 the earth, locked in an embrace fearful and 
 silent. 
 
 They lay still as statues for half a minute; 
 only the heaving breath, the trickling blood, the 
 muscles taut as steel, proclaimed them living 
 men. The onlookers closed in, but Butts and 
 Talabam waved them away. 
 
 Then the two in the deadly embrace began to 
 move. The Sheriff's arm was seen to slowly en- 
 circle the outlaw's neck. With a sudden twist 
 he brought his body sidewise to the left of 
 Hardeman, and the arm slid backward so that 
 
TEE SEERIFF OF WASCO. 313 
 
 tlie strong fingers reached the throat. But the 
 outlaw made a sudden wrench and freed himself. 
 Both the sweating bodies ran slippery with 
 blood; the mouths of both were agape with ex- 
 haustion. Again they came together. Slowly 
 the Sheriff wormed himself atop of Hardeman, 
 and the arm again encircled the neck. Then 
 the muscles contracted, and the body of Harde- 
 man began to arch backward. But fight as he 
 might his enemy was too lithe to be shaken off 
 now. Suddenly wUh a mighty wrench the 
 Sheriff turned and liberated his encircling arm 
 from the other's neck, but as he did so, he gave 
 it a tremendous sidewise pull. The outlaw fell 
 forward, gasping in a curious crowing fashion — 
 his face blue, his body quivering. 
 
 The men looked on aghast ; the Indian watched 
 with the face of a Sphinx. This was the great- 
 est fight with nature's weapons that would ever 
 be seen in those woods. It was greater than a 
 bull-moose and grizzly combat. 
 
 Hardeman sprang to his feet gasping, and 
 lunging caught the Sheriff's legs in his arms and 
 bore him heavily to earth. There was a muffled 
 shout of dismay from the men, but Talabam was 
 silent. He smiled grimly ; for he had fought the 
 Sheriff of Wasco years ago when he was only a 
 devil boy — and he knew. With a hoarse snarl 
 Hardeman flung himself on the Sheriff's body, 
 
314 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 but the latter had half turned, and again his arm, 
 this time the wounded left, encircled the out- 
 law's neck. 
 
 There was dirt on the hand now, and the ooz- 
 ing blood did not cause it to slip. 
 
 Hardeman gasped once; the spectators saw 
 the heaving muscular arm contract and next in- 
 stant the Sheriff was on top. His right arm was 
 under the outlaw's right shoulder and the pur- 
 chase was secure. The left arm slid around 
 until the hand was on the front of the neck, 
 then every muscle in the Sheriff's body tight- 
 ened, his fingers closed, and that fearful wheez- 
 ing breath began again. 
 
 Half-strangled, Hardeman made a last de- 
 spairing twist; and once again the two stag- 
 gered to their feet. On the Sheriff's face was a 
 fighting fury that made him nearly unrecog- 
 nizable. His jaws were clenched. His lower 
 teeth were uncovered bv the drawing^ down of 
 the muscles of the neck. His mouth was devil- 
 ish to look at. His eyes were half closed, his 
 nose dilated, and the veins of his forehead were 
 turgid. Hardeman was blue and unsteady; his 
 breath came in jerks; he had been nearly stran- 
 gled. The onlookers gazed in awe; they had 
 seen the death-hold. There was no doubt the 
 Sheriff was winning; they realized the power 
 and the tremendous strength of the man now. 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 315 
 
 Hardeman was trembling. But pulling him- 
 self suddenly together he staggered forward to- 
 ward the awaiting Sheriff. He felt himself go- 
 ing ; his head was reeling. He was beaten ; this 
 man was his master. He reeled swiftly and 
 lunged down to the ground, saw his Colt lying 
 there, and seized it weakly; then he staggered 
 to his feet and fired wildly. But the Sheriff 
 had anticipated him, and had stooped and se- 
 cured his own weapon. Hardeman's shot went 
 wild, and as he dimly perceived the Sheriff 
 armed, and advancing on him, panic, great and 
 overwhelming, seized him. The desire for life 
 had come. He saw that the Sheriff, fearless and 
 unconquerable, was going to close in again, and 
 he tried to fire but his arm wavered weakly; 
 then he turned with a cry of rage and ran — ran 
 lumberingly, desperately, despairingly. The 
 coward in his nature was supreme. Death he 
 dreaded, and it was coming there behind him. 
 
 The Sheriff, holding his wounded breast with 
 his left hand, sped across the clearing after the 
 fleeing man. Hardeman looked backward and 
 made for protection and vantage behind a fallen 
 tree. 
 
 " Fight," cried the Sheriff hoarsely, as he came 
 rushing on, " fight — damn you I " 
 
 For answer, the outlaw crouched behind the 
 tree and fired. The Sheriff was coming on like 
 
316 TEE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 a whirlwind. The bullet struck him, but he 
 staggered ahead. Hardeman shifted his posi- 
 tion and fired yet again — and instantly the 
 Sheriff's Colt sent its deadl}' missile. 
 
 The outlaw lunged into the clearing; his arms 
 fell heavily, he half turned, and then burrowed 
 his shoulder into the earth. 
 
 The Sheriff fell to his knee, his leg hard hit. 
 His chest wound was gaping, and his face was 
 pale from his injuries. The captain and Tala- 
 bam stooped to aid him; but the fighting fury 
 w^as' not yet spent. He shook himself free and 
 stood over the outlaw's body. ^' Damn the 
 woman killer ! ' ' he exclaimed hoarsely, " he just 
 had to fight — he had to I " 
 
 Then the avenger steadied himself. 
 
 " Say, fellows,'^ he whispered, in a breathless 
 curiously sympathetic voice. " There was an 
 awful thing happened once in Oregon — that's 
 one reason I'm here. Send this message across 
 the water to Seattle quick, and telegraph it on. 
 He drew a piece of paper from his trousers 
 pocket, and took a pencil from Butts' extended 
 hand; and as the men crowded around he 
 scrawled the following message : 
 The Deputy Sheriff of Wasco. 
 
 Centreville, Wasco Co., Oregon. 
 
 ^' I got him, and he won't come back, tliist 
 tell poor Jeff." 
 
THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 317 
 
 And then he signed it, " The Sheriff of Wasco." 
 
 A low growl of pleasure came from the men, 
 and two of them prepared to start immediately 
 to forward the news. 
 
 The Sheriff limped towards the cabin, sup- 
 ported by Butts. But suddenly they halted, for 
 in that same instant there came a sound from the 
 cabin, a smothered exclamation of joy and relief 
 and a soft flutter of woman's garments, and Myra 
 came running, her eyes, wide with fear and hope, 
 fixed on the conqueror's face. She whispered 
 but one word '' — Sheriff I " and with a fearful 
 compassionate movement her hand hovered above 
 his bare, wounded breast. The assemblage of 
 men fell back a little and gave her first place as 
 she led him, limping and leaning slightly upon 
 her, back towards the cabin. 
 
 Mr. John Thorn, tremendously excited, was 
 already rushing thence to meet them. 
 
 " Sheriff,'' he exclaimed, half choking, 
 " Sheriff, you're a terrible scrapper. Are you 
 much hurt, my boy? " 
 
 " Nope,'' retorted the limping man, " just 
 kinder shook up, I guess; that's all." And he 
 looked down at Myra. 
 
 She laughed a tremulous, glad little sob of a 
 laugh, and with a tender quiver in her voice 
 humored his stoicism, echoing after him : 
 
 " Just a little shook up, that's all. Can't you 
 
318 THE SHERIFF OF WASCO. 
 
 see for yourself, father? " Which seemed per- 
 fectly to satisfy the warrior. 
 
 But Dr. Backer was sent for; and until he ap- 
 peared the Sheriff spent the morning stretched 
 on a bunk in one of the cabins; and the atten- 
 tions which the eager patrolmen proceeded to 
 shower upon him threatened at first to make the 
 doctor's aid unnecessary. The Sheriff thanked 
 them gratefully but absent-mindedly, until at 
 last Captain Butts interposed. 
 
 " Here boys, clear out and give him air. Va- 
 mose, all o' you. Don't you know any better 'n 
 to crowd a sick man like that? " 
 
 With a sudden dawning of comprehension they 
 went, and the friendly captain himself followed 
 them. The white-faced Sheriff, with much of his 
 late warlike spirit spent, was left alone with the 
 gentler ministrations of Myra and her father. 
 
 With an eager, lover-like smile the sick man 
 held out his hand in appeal to the girl; she, 
 blushing, slipped hers within it, and thus the 
 pair of them turned to Mr. John Thorn and 
 looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 Taken unawares, the old gentleman swelled, 
 coughed, and spluttered apoplectically for the 
 first moment or two ; then he surrendered. 
 
 '^ I knew it. I felt it in my bones. Sheriff," he 
 whispered proudly, " kiss her, you terror — she's 
 yours ! " 
 
 THE END. 
 
NEW BOOKS 
 
 AND NEW EDITIONS 
 
 TSE GAMBLERS 
 
 A dramatic story of American Life. By CHARLES KLEIN 
 and ARTHUR HORNBLOW, authors of "The Lion and the 
 Mouse," "The Third Degree," "John Marsh's MiUions," etc. 
 i2mo, Cloth. Illustrations from scenes in the great play, 
 $1.50. 
 
 THE EASIEST WAY 
 
 A Vivid Story of Metropolitan Life. By EUGENE WALTER 
 and ARTHUR HORNBLOW. i2mo, Cloth. Illustrated. 
 $1.50. 
 
 THE ROGUE'S HEIRESS 
 
 A novel. By TOM GALLON. i2mo, Cloth. Illustrated. $l.sa 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH MAN 
 
 A novel. By MRS. COULSON KERNAHAN. ismo.Caoth, 
 $1.50. 
 
 THE WIFE DECIDES 
 
 A romance of American Life. By SYDNEY^WHARTON. 
 i2mo, Cloth. Illustrations by J. C. CHASE and J. KNOWLES 
 HARE, Jr. $1.50. 
 
 THE GUILTY MAN 
 
 A novel. By FRANCOIS COPPEE. English VersionTby 
 RUTH HELEN DAVIS. i2mo, Cloth. Illustrations by CLAR- 
 ENCE ROWE. $1.50. 
 
 JOHN MARSH'S MILLIONS 
 
 A novel. By CHARLES KLEIN and ARTHUR HORN- 
 BLOW. i2mo, Cloth. Illustrated. I1.50. 
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 
 
 By CHARLES KLEIN and ARTHUR HORNBLOW. laaao, 
 
 Ciotn Dound. Illustrated. $1.50. 
 
 THE LION AND THE MOUSE 
 
 By CHARLES KLEIN and ARTHUR HORNBLOW. l2n3Q» 
 Cloth bound. Illustrated. _ $1 .50. . , 
 
A HISTORY OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY 
 
 By D. MACLAREN, ROBERTSON. 8vo, Gloth bound. D. 
 lustrated. Net, $3.00. Postage, 15 cents. 
 
 THE MAYOR OF NEW YORK 
 
 A romance of days to come. By L. P. GRATACAP. A stort 
 of Heroism and Devotion. Illustrated. i2mo, Gloth bound, 
 $1.50. 
 
 THE COUNTRY BOY 
 
 By HOMER DAVENPORT. (The story of his own early life.) 
 With over sixty illustrations by this world-famous cartoonist. 
 Cloth bound. Net, $1.25. 
 
 THE SPENDTHRIFT 
 
 NoveHzed from the Popular Play by EDWARD MARSHALL. 
 i2mo, Cloth bound. With six illustrations from scenes in the 
 play. $1.50. 
 
 KEW FACES 
 
 A volume of 8 stories. By MYRA KELLY. i2mo, Qoth. 
 Beautifully illustrated. $1.50. 
 
 THE OLD FLUTE PLAYER 
 
 By EDWARD MARSHALL and CHARLES T. DAZEY. The 
 story, in competition with nearly 2,000 others, awarded the first 
 prize at the Actors' Fund Fair. Cloth bound. Illustrated. 
 $1.50. 
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 A novel. By R. H. HAZARD. i2mo, Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50. 
 
 BUCKY O'CONNOR 
 
 A novel. By WM. M. RAINE, author of "Wyoming," etc. 
 i2mo. Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50. 
 
 IF DAVID KNEW 
 
 By FRANCES AYMAR MATHEWS. Author of "My Lady 
 Peggy Goes to Town," etc i2mo, Gloth bound. Illustrated. 
 $1.50. 
 
 THE DOUBLE CROSS 
 
 A Romance of Mystery and Adventure in Mexico of To-Day. 
 By GILSON WILLETS. i2mo. Illustrated. $1.50. 
 
 THE PEACOCK OF JEWELS 
 
 A detective story. By FERGUS HUME. i2mo, Cloth. $1.25. 
 
 TINSEL AND GOLD 
 
 A new novel by DION CLAYTON CALTHROP. Author of 
 "Everybody's Secret." i2mo, Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50.- 
 
 BELLES, BEAUX AND BRAINS OF THE 60'S 
 
 By T. C. DE LEON. Octavo, Cloth bound. With one hundred 
 Mid fifty half-tone portrai t« ISi et. $3.00. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 RENEWALS ONLY—TEL. NO. 642-3405 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 Mi 1 2 1^)69 
 
 #»^4^^€§'ft 
 
 a: 
 
 z 
 
 < 
 
 -Cr 
 
 01 
 
 ZD 
 
 
 1 
 
 Dl 
 
 m 
 
 a 
 
 
 O 
 
 z 
 
 > 
 
 JU.^^i 
 
 13 
 
 W>'' 
 
 LD 21A-40m-2,'69 
 (J6057sl0i476 — A-32 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 

 13i>iin{<>c<>^'!