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THE MISTRESS OF THE RANCH 
 
 a 
 
 BY 
 
 FREDERICK THICKSTUN CLARK 
 
 AUTHOR OF " ON CLOUD MOUNTAIN " ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 
 1897 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 ON CLOUD MOUNTAIN. A Novel. By FBBDKRICK 
 THIOKSTUN CLA.BK. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, 
 $1 00. 
 
 Far above the average in the freshness of its plot, the 
 lifelikeness of its characters, and the skilful portraiture 
 of conditions rapidly passing away. The author has 
 . . . with rare power pictured the rough and virile life 
 and the strong and free play of human passions so charac 
 teristic of the newer West. Christian Intelligencer, N. Y. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
 Copyright. 1897, by HARPER & BROTHERS. 
 
 All riqhtt reterved. 
 
955 
 
 THE MISTKESS OF THE EANCH 
 
 M711588 
 
THE MISTRESS OF THE RANCH 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PHCEBE ELLEN* bounced off the train and squared her 
 self on the depot platform, one foot in advance of the 
 other. 
 
 " "Well, where is he ?" she demanded. 
 
 Anny, having remained till a full stop made her de 
 scent from the car less spectacular, had to walk some 
 distance down the planking before coming up with her 
 sister. They appeared of about the same age, but Anny 
 was not so blond, and her eyes were larger and calmer. 
 Her mouth, too, wore a look of habitual repose, while 
 Phoebe Ellen s always seemed quivering under the strain 
 of aggressive speech. 
 
 They halted side by side near the station building, with 
 their oil-cloth satchels in their hands. 
 
 "Not a waggin in sight!" continued Phoebe Ellen, 
 stabbing her eyes into the distance on all sides. " Didn t 
 he say he d meet us to the train ? Wasn t them his words ? 
 Where s that letter ? Oh, ye needn t hunt it up. I 
 know he said he d meet us to the train. I ve seen folks 
 in my time t didn t know a promise from their own lazi 
 ness, V made shore they was doin all they ever said they 
 would when they sot aroun wonderm why folks wa n t 
 satisfied. Well" (she deposited her satchel on the plat 
 form with an energy which seemed to distrust the ability 
 of gravity alone to perform that function), "here we be, 
 
 but where s Sam Tinker ?" 
 i 
 
Her attitude of challenge included everything in sight, 
 even the mountains. They looked serene and passive and 
 altogether manageable,, as was fitting and proper, consid 
 ering the presence in which they found themselves. On 
 the whole, Phoebe Ellen concluded that she had no quar 
 rel with the Rocky Mountains. But Sam Tinker where 
 was he ? 
 
 Anny understood when she was expected to answer her 
 sister s questions. She said nothing now. Her eyes were 
 upon the retreating train, which was coughing its way 
 toilsomely up grade. It disappeared with a final switch 
 of its dragon s tail behind a spur of the foot-hills, and her 
 eyes wandered out to the mountains. 
 
 "I like em/ she meditated. "They look like they 
 had big, kind thoughts." 
 
 But Phoebe Ellen had begun again. 
 
 "Anything I hate, it s foolin with a promise ; V it s 
 & common a whiskers. AVell ! They ain t no promises 
 in heaven, fer they ain t no men there that s a comfort. 
 Tinker!" She repeated the word with a forced calm. 
 " Ye might know by the name ye never could tell where 
 to put yer finger on im. Tinker ! Shall we set down 
 V wait ? The very name o that man goes agin me. It 
 means wait, it spells wait. Half the folks in this ere 
 world seems to think all the other half s got to do s to 
 set aroun a-prayin fer em to keep their p intments V 
 smirk V look happy if they show up afore doomsday. 
 Well, if Sam Tinker comes V finds me a-waitin , he ll 
 want to bile the greetin he gits from me. It won t be 
 tender !" 
 
 Anny withdrew her eyes from the mountains. 
 
 "Mebbe suthin s happened," she suggested. Her 
 voice contrasted agreeably with the nipping and eager 
 tones of her sister. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen took up the word in a voice of acute ob 
 jection. 
 
3 
 
 " What could V happened ? He said he d be ere, V 
 that orter settle it. He ain t no bizness to let nothin 
 happen. If he seen anything happening he orter a flaxed 
 aroun n hendered it. Let s go V ast the depot-man if 
 lie knows." 
 
 She seized her satchel once more, and, with a sudden 
 turn, advanced upon the station-master. Her stride was 
 martial, she looked determined to return with her shield 
 or upon it. The man was trundling a truck down the 
 platform, and he vibrated from head to foot in sympathy 
 with the rumbling of the vehicle. Anny moved in that 
 direction, too. She always looked as if dragged in the 
 wake of her sister on one of the minor waves of that strong 
 individuality. 
 
 "Say, you, there you depot-man!" called Phoebe El 
 len, flourishing her satchel. The official stopped and 
 faced about, leaning against the slant end of his truck. 
 He had a mottled complexion of chemical pink, which 
 was still further complicated by numerous freckles of va 
 rious degrees of brownness. Several tufts of week-old 
 blond beard were discoverable on unexpected corners of 
 his face. 
 
 " Ye inns be the Thompson gals, I reckon ?" he in 
 quired, with some awkwardness, pushing his hat forward 
 and brushing up his soft yellow hair behind. 
 
 The girls stared at each other as if trying to decide to 
 what extent the greeting was supernatural. Phoebe Ellen 
 recovered first. She always did. 
 
 "How d you know?" she demanded, with a warlike 
 fling of her head to one side. 
 
 The depot-man grinned. He was more at his ease than 
 his first sheepishness would have led one to suppose. 
 
 "Oh, they s little birds aroun in these parts," he re 
 marked. 
 
 " N they talk, do they ?" snorted Phoebe Ellen. " N 
 they live aroun the depot, do they ? N they wheel 
 
Her attitude of challenge included everything in sight, 
 even the mountains. They looked serene and passive and 
 altogether manageable,, as was fitting and proper, consid 
 ering the presence in which they found themselves. On 
 the whole, Phoebe Ellen concluded that she had no quar 
 rel with the Rocky Mountains. But Sam Tinker where 
 was he ? 
 
 Anny understood when she was expected to answer her 
 sister s questions. She said nothing now. Her eyes were 
 upon the retreating train, which was coughing its way 
 toilsomely up grade. It disappeared with a final switch 
 of its dragon s tail behind a spur of the foot-hills, and her 
 eyes wandered out to the mountains. 
 
 "I like em," she meditated. "They look like they 
 had big, kind thoughts." 
 
 But Phoebe Ellen had begun again. 
 
 "Anything I hate, it s foolin with a promise ; V it s 
 & common s whiskers. Well ! They ain t no promises 
 in heaven, fer they ain t no men there that s a comfort. 
 Tinker!" She repeated the word with a forced calm. 
 " Ye might know by the name ye never could tell where 
 to put yer finger on im. Tinker ! Shall we set down 
 V wait ? The very name o that man goes agin me. It 
 means wait, it spells wait. Half the folks in this ere 
 world seems to think all the other half s got to do s to 
 set aroun a-prayin fer em to keep their p intments n 
 smirk n look happy if they show up afore doomsday. 
 Well, if Sam Tinker comes V finds me a-waitin , he ll 
 want to bile the greetin he gits from me. It won t be 
 tender I" 
 
 Anny withdrew her eyes from the mountains. 
 
 "Mebbe suthin s happened," she suggested. Her 
 voice contrasted agreeably with the nipping and eager 
 tones of her sister. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen took up the word in a voice of acute ob 
 jection. 
 
" What could V happened ? He said he d be ere, V 
 that orter settle it. He ain t no bizness to let nothin 
 happen. If he seen anything happening he orter V flaxed 
 aroun V hendered it. Let s go V ast the depot-man if 
 lie knows." 
 
 She seized her satchel once more, and, with a sudden 
 turn, advanced upon the station-master. Her stride was 
 martial, she looked determined to return with her shield 
 or upon it. The man was trundling a truck down the 
 platform, and he vibrated from head to foot in sympathy 
 with the rumbling of the vehicle. Anny moved in that 
 direction, too. She always looked as if dragged in the 
 wake of her sister on one of the minor waves of that strong 
 individuality. 
 
 " Say, you, there you depot-man !" called Phoebe El 
 len, flourishing her satchel. The official stopped and 
 faced about, leaning against the slant end of his truck. 
 He had a mottled complexion of chemical pink, which 
 was still further complicated by numerous freckles of va 
 rious degrees of brownness. Several tufts of week-old 
 blond beard were discoverable on unexpected corners of 
 his face. 
 
 " Ye mus be the Thompson gals, I reckon ?" he in 
 quired, with some awkwardness, pushing his hat forward 
 and brushing up his soft yellow hair behind. 
 
 The girls stared at each other as if trying to decide to 
 what extent the greeting was supernatural. Phoebe Ellen 
 recovered first. She always did. 
 
 "How d you know?" she demanded, with a warlike 
 fling of her head to one side. 
 
 The depot-man grinned. He was more at his ease than 
 his first sheepishness would have led one to suppose. 
 
 "Oh, they s little birds aroun in these parts," he re 
 marked. 
 
 "W they talk, do they ?" snorted Phoebe Ellen. <"N 
 they live aroun the depot, do they ? W they wheel 
 
trucks V git funny with strangers, do they ?" She gave 
 a scornful exhalation and drew her right shoulder up to 
 her ear. " Well, say, now, ud ye mind comin down off m 
 the bough fer a minute, Birdie, n tellin us whether they s 
 sech a man livin in these ere parts s Sam Tinker ?" 
 
 The depot-man still grinned, but he answered with a 
 sort of roseate meekness which was probably his form of 
 apology. 
 
 " I didn t go to do nothin to rile ye," he said, first rub 
 bing his nose and then the back of his neck. " It was 
 Sam hisself t tole me bout ye. He said he d be ere to 
 the arternoon up train to meet ye." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen fetched a long breath, as if here at last 
 was a clew. 
 
 "Oh, he did, did he?" Then suddenly making the 
 depot-man responsible, " Well, then, why ain t he ere ?" 
 
 He scratched his ear in perplexity. 
 
 " Give it up !" was his final answer, with an outward 
 fling of his hand. "Mebbe he s dead." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen stiffened herself. 
 
 "He ll wish t he was when I lay eyes on im ! Won t 
 I give it to im ? Oh no !" 
 
 The depot-man s smile was so genial that in spite of 
 herself Phoebe Ellen s mouth relaxed. There were hu 
 morous lines in her face when she was not frowning. 
 
 He adjusted his truck parallel with the cracks in the 
 platform, as if there were some special virtue in that ar 
 rangement, and took time to meditate. " When Dan 
 Thompson died over there on the Rio Grande, he left his 
 property to his sister Anny. Now, which o these is 
 Anny, I wonder ?" 
 
 Aloud he said : 
 
 "Sam was over yistiddy, V he tole me he d be ere to 
 day afore you was. Suthin must a happened. He allus 
 keeps is word." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen snorted again. 
 
"A Tinker t keeps is word !" She suddenly turned 
 on him with a malicious smile. " Is yer reel name Birdie?" 
 she inquired. She cocked her head and examined him 
 with one eye half closed. 
 
 The depot-man twisted his heel into a knot-hole and 
 looked confused. But he went on wondering. "The 
 talker mus be Anny. The other un. s fatter V purtier, 
 but she don t look so sassy." 
 
 But aloud he said, with his peculiar pink acquiescence : 
 
 "I reckon they ain t no use tryin to keep my name 
 from ye if ye re goin to make yer home in these parts. 
 They call me Pinky." He withdrew his heel, grew redder 
 as he examined it, then rubbed his neck softly with his 
 left hand. 
 
 His air of deprecation had no effect on Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 "Pinky?" she cried. "How purty ! I spected if 
 twan t Birdie it ud be Daisy, or Petunia, or suthin . But 
 Pinky ! How sweet ! Jes the name fer a feller t ud 
 b lieve anybody named Tinker could keep is word !" 
 
 Pinky s blood overflowed his features in a purple flood, 
 but presently his freckles emerged into view once more, 
 like a lot of corks bobbing on rough water. 
 
 " Tain t my reel name," he explained. "My reel 
 name s Rose Dick Eose. The fellers ere is terrors fer 
 nicknames, V it didn t take em a minute to see t my 
 name V my color went together, V that fixed me." 
 
 " Pinky Rose !" murmured Phoebe Ellen, examining 
 him from head to foot and all too obviously connecting 
 the luridness of the name with the luridness of the man. 
 
 "/don t keer," declared Pinky, with grinning defiance, 
 "/ain t a-goin to run fer office." 
 
 "Nor git married ?" inquired Phoebe Ellen. " Well, I 
 b lieve ye !" Then with a backward jerk of her blond 
 head, "I ain t a-goin to pick no quar l with yer name 
 I m a gal o peace V harmony, n I keep my feet off m 
 my neighbors s long s they don t lay aroun permisc us 
 
fer me to stumble over. So ye stair* up fer Sam Tinker, 
 do ye ? Fm interested in him." Her emphasis was ex 
 clusive. Pinky felt it, and resolved to say nothing more 
 about himself. "Ye know he s goin to look arter the 
 ranch fer a while." 
 
 " She is Anny," thought the depot-man. He had no 
 comprehension of Phoebe Ellen s habits of assumption 
 and appropriation. " Yes/ he said, aloud, Sam tole me 
 how yer brother Dan -made im promise to stay a year V 
 look arter things." 
 
 " Yes, V this is the way he begins. Oh, / know his 
 kind small pertaters V few in a hill. Look at the trick 
 he s gone n played on us fust off ! He ll want us to 
 kiss im how - d ye - do, won t he ? Like s not he ll be 
 spectin a bokay V a chromo fer ever comin t all ! It s 
 lyi n > that s what it ud be called back East there in 
 Nebrasky !" 
 
 Oh, not lyin ," Pinky argued, in meek expostulation. 
 "This ain t a kentry o liars the boys stan s by their 
 word, they ain t cowards. N Sam" 
 
 "Sam s a little George Washington with tin wings, 
 ain t he ? Lor , is this heaven ? Sis, does this look like 
 heaven ?" She swept her masterful glance along the 
 dreary alkali park and back to the unwholesome excres 
 cence of half a dozen huts which constituted Eden City. 
 
 " It ain t heaven, s I knows on," replied Anny, with 
 the pretty, serious drawl which was her distinctive form 
 of speech. "But they may be honest men ere, fer all 
 that. I m glad Sam Tinker s honest," she added to 
 Pinky. "Brother Dan was mos ly a good jedge o folks." 
 
 "Sam 11 treat ye square," said Pinky. 
 
 "He will !" put in Phoebe Ellen, with emphasis. "I ll 
 keep my eyes on im. I never yit seen a man t I d trust 
 s fur s I could throw im by his coat-tails. If he spects 
 to git ahead o me, he ll have to git up airly in the morn- 
 in , I kin tell im that. I kin run that ranch myself, on 
 
a pinch. I looked arter the place back East there in 
 Nebrasky, n I kin do it ere, arter I git used to the erry- 
 gation V sech." 
 
 She turned on the depot-man with abrupt question 
 ing. 
 
 "How fur s the ranch from ere, anyhow?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Seven mile." 
 
 "I made shore I membered. That ain t bad. When 
 we git lonesome we can come over V have a visit 
 with ye." 
 
 Pinky accepted this mark of favor with open delight. 
 
 tf That s right ! Come over come over often. It ain t 
 heaven ere, s ye said yerself, if it is called Eden City. 
 Still, it might be wuss. W y, if this ere kentry had 
 plenty o water V good people, it ud be a regular para 
 dise !" 
 
 " So ud hell," was Phoebe Ellen s laconic retort. She 
 intended nothing funny or irreverent, merely a statement 
 of fact ; but her speech so doubled Pinky up with laugh 
 ter that she was obliged to laugh, too. She always looked 
 less thin-lipped and more likable when she laughed. 
 
 "Ye might come over to the ranch V visit us, arter 
 we git settled," she said, after he had sobered down. 
 "We d be glad to see ye wouldn t we, sis ?" 
 
 The pretty sister smiled acquiescence. 
 
 "Queer how they don t call each other by their fust 
 names," reflected Pinky. "I ain t heerd em do it yit." 
 Aloud he said, " Oh, I ll come over, shore. Pete Haw 
 kins he lives there in the fust cabin to the left he 
 takes my place when I want a off-day. He s got the post- 
 office, V runs a s loon V dry goods V groceries. I ve 
 seen im peekin out fifty times or more sence ye come 
 he s powerful bashful. That s why he wa n t ere when 
 the train come in, though they was sev ral kegs fer im. 
 He knowed ye was comin , V ye couldn t V dragged im 
 
over with ropes. He says t a man t kin stan up V face 
 a gal s a genyus. He allus laffs at me cause I do it so 
 easy. He calls me a doode." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen looked him over from the tips of his cow 
 boy boots to the crown of his cowboy hat, fixed her eyes 
 upon each separately, then deliberately traced the surging 
 blood from his cheeks to his temples, from his temples 
 behind his ears, and thence, as it seemed to him, half-way 
 down his back ; then, woman-like, at the moment when 
 he expected annihilation, she spared him. 
 
 " Wot direction ort that Tinker o your n to come from, 
 anyhow ?" she inquired. " Somehow Fve took a tnrble 
 hatred o that man V 
 
 Pinky pointed with a thin, freckled hand. 
 
 "Ye see that foot-hill spur joggin out there jest above 
 the ruff o the s loon ? "Well, the road comes down the 
 farther side o that. Goin over, ye have to climb up V 
 down all the way, but down mos ly ; then all to wunst ye 
 turn a sharp corner, V there ye be in a green valley 
 lower down n this, with mountains all aroun V a river 
 in it. That s the Eio Grande." He gave the name 
 a drawling English pronunciation. " It s jest a lit 
 tle river there, but it s orfle clear V purty. N the 
 ranch is one o the best in the State. Everybody says 
 so." 
 
 " I ll be glad to live in a green kentry," spoke up Anny. 
 "I useter git dretful sick o Nebrasky." 
 
 " I m glad it s dif rent from Eden City," declared 
 Phoebe Ellen. "This is wuss n Nebrasky." 
 
 "No," said Anny, softly. "They ain t no mountains 
 there." 
 
 "Some un s comin down the foot-hill road," said Pinky, 
 suddenly. "Jes by the low end o the mesa see ?" He 
 was shading his eyes with one hand and pointing with the 
 other. 
 
 " Is it that Tinker o your n ?" asked Phoebe Ellen. 
 
She seemed determined to hold him responsible for the 
 transgressor. 
 
 " They ain t no one else in these parts t drives a buck- 
 board with one gray hoss V a mustang. Yes, it s Sam." 
 
 " Well, I m ready fer im/ said Phoebe Ellen, shutting 
 her lips tight. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 WHILE waiting for the delinquent to come up, Phoebe 
 Ellen s eyes wandered over the shabby, tent-roofed cabins, 
 the brush palings, the sordid yards with their accumula 
 tions of tin cans and beer bottles the whole human 
 effort which affronted Nature and which Nature was too 
 feeble to resent. A burro set up its braying just beyond 
 the track. A melancholy hen close by Pete Hawkins s 
 saloon was mourning over an egg she had just dropped in 
 the dirt. The yellowish gray of the park was blotched 
 here and there with the leprous inflorescence of alkali ; the 
 only bit of color to be seen was an occasional bunch of 
 cardinal cactus, as red as if the ground had been stabbed 
 and the blood had oozed out and coagulated. Man should 
 have left the place alone ; for in subduing it he had ad 
 mitted the devil as a partner. But on all sides the moun 
 tains rose, showing that beyond the " city " limits God 
 still reigned. 
 
 Pinky went on meditating. " I ve seen Sam Tinker in 
 some mighty ticklish places in my time, but never in a 
 row with a woomarn. If a feller was to jump on im fer 
 a fist-fight well, that feller wouldn t jump much afore 
 he d be laid out ; if it was pistols, I d bet dollars to chew- 
 in -gum on the sun a-shinin through the other feller 
 fust ; but a woomarn what kin he do ? LI he turn tail 
 V run ? The idee o Sam runnin ! But wot else is tey 
 fer a man to do ? He can t fight he can t stan V take 
 it. Think o Sam Tinker runnin away from anything 
 with two legs ! N the heiress look at er. That s wot 
 my ole mother useter call facin a frownin world." 
 
11 
 
 Phoebe Ellen had deposited her satchel once more upon 
 the platform, and had taken her stand in front of it in an 
 attitude of battle. She stood very straight, her arms 
 folded tightly across her breast, her back hollowed in, one 
 foot in advance of the other. There were hard wrinkles 
 from the corners of her nose to her mouth, and her lips 
 looked very thin. 
 
 Army stood considerably in the rear, fully aware of the 
 gravity of the situation, but conscious of the futility of 
 interference. She was frowning, too, but with anxiety. 
 Her eyes looked helpless, and now and then there was a 
 deprecative tremor about her lips. 
 
 The wagon drew nearer down the winding road. The 
 dust rose in a hazy yellow cloud, hiding the horses and 
 vehicle at times, then floating away into filaments and 
 wreaths, and disappearing in final faint sun-glimmers. A 
 little beyond Pete Hawkins s saloon the driver became 
 visible a huge creature in a gray sombrero, bending the 
 shoulders of Hercules carelessly over the loose-held reins. 
 He wore overalls and a brown mining-jacket with copper 
 rivets at the corners of the pockets. Now he straightened 
 his shoulders and lifted his head in an attitude of atten 
 tion, examining the occupants of the platform with in 
 terest. 
 
 Pinky sent him a lusty greeting. 
 
 " Hello, Chris mas ! Fin ly got ere, have ye ? Train s 
 come V gone half a hour ago !" 
 
 Before answering, the man took time to bend back the 
 brim of his hat into an impromptu halo, and his counte 
 nance, thus relieved of shadow, took the sunlight in a 
 generous gleam. It was a full, strong face, inspiring re 
 spect by the manly completeness of its physical outline 
 as well as by the evidence of soul behind it. There was 
 strength of will in the projecting chin, and gentleness in 
 the upward curve of the mouth at the corners. He had 
 a complexion of ruddy brown, through which his eyes 
 
12 
 
 gleamed kindly. His level brows looked as if they seldom 
 frowned, and never without good reason. His mouth had 
 broadened in response to Pinky s greeting, displaying a 
 set of perfect teeth beneath a heavy brown mustache. 
 
 (t Hello, yerself !" came back the answer, in a voice 
 which had a healthy depth of lung behind it. 
 
 And presently Sam Tinker was backing his wagon 
 against the planking in a position for the women to mount 
 easily from the rear. Then he flung the reins over the 
 dashboard, straddled the two seats at two slow strides, 
 and with a third came down upon the platform with a 
 force which shook that structure to its base. 
 
 1 Well, hello \" he called out, in ponderous welcome to 
 the two women. 
 
 But he was confronted by silence and Phoebe Ellen 
 with her arms akimbo. 
 
 "Well!" was her greeting, shrilly pitched, while she 
 drew herself in at the waist and leaned forward as if peck 
 ing at him with a long, sharp bill. " So ye ve come, have 
 ye ?" She straightened herself with a jerk and stood 
 stiffly, glaring up at him. 
 
 He was so big that he had the advantage over her even 
 in a combat of words ; for length, breadth, and thickness 
 have tongues of their own and speak even before they are 
 spoken to. The smile slowly faded from his face, and he 
 looked down at her with grave examination, as if still un 
 certain of the spirit of her greeting. But the battlesome 
 attitude, the shrill voice, the twisted mouth, the hysteri 
 cal defiance of a woman in a rage, left him no long occa 
 sion for doubt. He pushed his hat a little farther back 
 the movement displayed a tangle of moist brown hair 
 close-packed against a low forehead and, settling the 
 weight of his body easily upon one leg, extended his ex 
 amination from her face to her dress and thence to her 
 feet. 
 
 The carelessness of his movement and pose brought the 
 
13 
 
 fire into Phoebe Ellen s eye. She began with apostrophic 
 scorn : 
 
 " So this ere s wot it means to take the live-stock o a 
 ranch thout seem em, even when it s a dead brother t 
 recommends em !" Her furious glance left the cowboy 
 in no doubt as to whom she referred to as live-stock. 
 "This ere s the kind o cattle I m spected to pervide 
 paster n fodder fer, cordin to my dead brother s wishes, 
 n git nothin in return but the right to stan aroun , 
 wearin my legs short with waitin , while they re kickin 
 up their heels somers with joy on the range ! This ere s 
 wot it means to take hired men on charity, askin nothin 
 in return but to be treated white fer it ! This ere s the 
 way the hired han s lays out to come it over me from the 
 start, imposin on me count o my weakness fer my dead 
 brother, n settin theirselves up above me, showin me 
 they mean to run things to suit theirselves ! This is the 
 sort " 
 
 " Ye re Miss Anny, I reckon ?" he asked, still eying 
 her with the placid curiosity which marked him as her 
 superior, and which made her blood boil. 
 
 Here Anny herself seemed on the point of interposing, 
 but Phcebe Ellen got in her word first. She had no in 
 tention of denying her identity, but she meant to es 
 tablish herself once for all as her sister s equal in au 
 thority. 
 
 " Well, if I ain t, ye kin take it fer granted I know er 
 idees. Wot d ye mean, anyhow, by not gittin ere till 
 hours arter ye said ye would ? Ain t ye got no sense o 
 promises ? Eeckon I m a picter in a frame to be sot down 
 ere on the platform till ye happen to come long n cart 
 me off permisc ous ? Don t ye know wot a lady s like, to 
 leave er sprawlin n straddlin aroun in public like this ? 
 If this ere s a spec men o yer ways n doin s, if this ere s 
 the line ye pose to fight it out on, I want to tell ye right 
 now we ll have to part comp ny, V the sooner the quicker 
 
14 
 
 see ? None o my money goes to s port that kind o 
 shif lessness V ye kin jes bear that in mind/ 
 
 Sam Tinker waited till she finished, gave her a final 
 comprehensive glance, then turned to Pinky. 
 
 "That her trunk ?" he asked, in an emotionless tone, 
 pointing with a huge index finger to a receptacle in 
 pressed zinc a little way up the platform. 
 
 Pinky nodded. There was something unusual in the 
 cowboy s face, but the nature of the expression was doubt 
 ful. Even Phoebe Ellen began to feel it and to shift un 
 easily from one foot to the other. 
 
 " I ll git a plank, V we ll roll it into the back o the 
 buckboard together," said Pinky. " It s turble heavy." 
 
 But Sam answered, composedly, " No, ye needn t mind. 
 I reckon I kin manage it." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen, who knew precisely how heavy that trunk 
 was, inwardly chuckled as the giant marched up to it and 
 tested its weight by pulling at one end. "He ll have to 
 call on Pinky V mebbe both o us gals," she thought, 
 with glee. " That 11 make im drop is tail-feathers, I 
 reckon !" But her amazement grew to the splitting-point 
 as he solemnly spit on his hands, rubbed them together, 
 then, spreading his legs Colossus-wise, seized the trunk 
 by the middle, lifted it with a quivering of the muscles 
 of the hips such as one sees in a horse straining uphill, 
 and, settling it comfortably on one shoulder, marched 
 down the platform, and deposited it endwise in the rear 
 of the wagon. 
 
 " Is he the devil ?" asked Phoebe Ellen, more of her 
 self than of Anny, but loud enough for the latter to hear. 
 " It took me V you V the hired man to load that into 
 the waggin to home, V then we had to end it over V 
 over up a pair o planks." She advanced a little closer 
 to the giant, his supernatural strength, whether as man 
 or devil, compelling her respect. She intended to say 
 something in approval, but before slie had time to open 
 
15 
 
 her mouth he turned on her and said, with an utter lack 
 of emotion of any kind : 
 
 "Well, I reckon it s time to wish ye a good-arternoon, 
 Miss Thompson. Pinky 11 pint out the way to the ranch 
 fer ye. I ll ride over in the mornin myself fer my things. 
 Good-arternoon !" 
 
 Then he turned his back and strode away. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen s eyes widened on the retreating figure. 
 She began a series of inarticulate exclamations. 
 
 " Well ! Say ! Lookee ere ! " 
 
 Her jaw dropped. Her face had a stunned, relaxed 
 look. 
 
 "He he where s he goin to ?" she finally demanded 
 with a half -gasp, turning to Pinky. 
 
 Pinky was grinning with enjoyment, either at her dis 
 comfiture or at Sam s w T ay out of his difficulties. 
 
 " Looks like he was goin over to Pete Hawkins s, don t 
 it ?" he answered. " But I d know. It may be Wilcox s 
 Wilcox s a friend o his, n he hangs out in the nex 
 shanty. No, it s Pete s see ?" 
 
 " I ll pay im out fer that," Phoebe Ellen muttered. " I 
 never was treated so afore never !" 
 
 She looked quite pale. 
 
 "Wot d ye reckon he s goin to do over there ?" she 
 inquired. 
 
 "Take a observashun fust thing, I shouldn t wonder. 3 
 
 " A observashun ?" 
 
 "Through the bottom o a whiskey-glass. Sam s a 
 thirsty soul !" 
 
 But he ll come back ?" 
 
 " I didn t git the idee he would. He didn t look it." 
 
 "He said suthin bout ridin over arter his things in 
 the mornin 7 , didn t he ?" She evidently distrusted her 
 own memory of what had transpired. 
 
 " That s wot he said," Pinky confirmed her. 
 
 " But he s got to come back now he s my hired man 
 
16 
 
 he s got to come back ! I I ll discharge im V git nother 
 if he don t come back. I ll set im a-packin if he don t 
 comeback! I ll- 
 
 " Pears like he d gone V discharged hisself," remarked 
 Pinky, in his half-deprecatory way. He was no longer 
 grinning, but seemed wholly intent on the fair stranger s 
 troubles. " I took it that was his way o settin hisself 
 a-packin . Anyways, that s my idee." 
 
 " But wot s the matter ? Wot s he mad at ? Can t a 
 gal tell a hired man when he s gone V done wrong ? 
 This is a purty kentry !" 
 
 " Well, tain t our way out ere to swoller much t don t 
 taste good, n that s a fact. N Sam kin do as he likes 
 he s got a ranch o his own down in Las Animas. He s 
 jes nachelly left ye to look out fer yerselves. He won t 
 be walked over by nobody." 
 
 "But yell at im call im back !" cried Phoebe Ellen, 
 just as the giant was entering the saloon. 
 
 "Ho, Sam !" shouted Pinky, with ready obedience. 
 
 The huge figure turned with deliberation. 
 
 " Come back a minute, will ye ?" 
 
 The giant considered. Then, as if he had made up his 
 mind after weighing all the pros and cons, he retraced his 
 steps with ponderous slowness. 
 
 "Well, ere I be," he remarked, pausing a little way 
 from the platform. 
 
 "She wanted a pow-wow," said Pinky, jerking his 
 thumb in Phoebe Ellen s direction. 
 
 Sam turned his large face full upon her. It was a face 
 capable of only one expression at a time, and that of some 
 big, incomplex emotion. Just now his look told of noth 
 ing except a desire to know what she wanted. His re 
 sentment if he had any lay below a simple, serious in 
 quiry as to what was expected of him. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen met his composure with inward trepida 
 tion. There was something compelling in his unresentful 
 
17 
 
 simplicity it gave him an advantage which would have 
 been impossible to the boisterous anger she had expected. 
 In calling him back she was prepared to meet him with 
 concessions ; a loss of personal dignity counted but little 
 with her in the cause of her interests,, and she had seen 
 in a flash that her interests by which she really meant 
 Anny s depended upon retaining this man in her service. 
 But the look of him as he stood there, huge, unmanage 
 able, indifferently inquiring, overcame her with a sudden 
 rage. She had never before felt herself in the presence 
 of a master, and this cowboy s attitude of cool superiority 
 galled her like deliberate insult. She flung aside conse 
 quences in the impulse towards satisfaction which with 
 her meant fight. 
 
 "AVell!" she cried, bridling like a mettlesome horse 
 and hiding an involuntary quavering in her tone by a 
 forced use of breath. " So ye reckoned ye was goin to 
 run off n leave me, did ye ?" Even to her own ears this 
 interrogation seemed feeble, but she could think of noth 
 ing better. "It s plain ye don t know my kind but ye 
 will afore ye git through with me ! Now, lookee ere ; ye re 
 my hired man, d ye see ? N if ye know wot s good fer 
 them big bones o yourn, ye ll toe the mark I make fer ye. 
 Git up on the front seat o that buckboard, now, quicker 
 n th Lord 11 let ye, V take them reins V drive us over 
 to the ranch. I) ye hear ?" 
 
 Sam Tinker looked his antagonist over with a careful 
 attention which had no contempt in it, but possibly a hint 
 of amusement; took time to make up his mind that a direct 
 reply would be a useless waste of energy, then turned to 
 Pinky with massive composure. 
 
 " Don t yell arter me ag in," he said. "I m thirsty." 
 And he started once more for the saloon. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen, beside herself with rage, rushed after him, 
 shouting and brandishing her fists. But the unheeding 
 figure marched on with elephantine dignity, and the heavy 
 
18 
 
 feet came down with dull regularity on the dry adobe soil. 
 She might as well have expected to order one of the 
 mountains in her direction and have it obey. Finally she 
 stopped, helpless, red in the face, furious, flinging herself, 
 one might say, in two directions at once. 
 
 But he was still within tongue s reach of her. 
 
 " Come back !" she screeched. " I tell ye to come 
 back ! If ye don t, I llI ll" Then, with an hysterical 
 realization of the uselessness of threat, "Why won t ye 
 come back ?" she finished, on the verge of tears. 
 
 He turned with a smile more masterful than anything 
 that had preceded it. 
 
 " Oh, I d jes s soon tell ye why." His voice was calm 
 and slow. " I m used to the devil in breeches, V I know 
 how to fight im; but in petticoats" he spread his huge 
 hands towards her, palms outward, wagging them slowly 
 to right and left "in petticoats, excuse me." And with 
 a leisurely stride he disappeared in the saloon. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen came back and sat down on the platform. 
 She was pale, with anger partly, but with some other emo 
 tion as well. 
 
 "I wish to th Almighty I was a man," she said, after 
 a long moment, more to herself than to her companions. 
 
 Anny said nothing, but 
 
 " Wot ud ye do ?" asked Pinky. 
 
 " I d kill that critter that s wot I d do !" 
 
 Pinky stroked his chin and brushed up his yellow hair 
 behind. 
 
 " It s the only way ye could git ahead o im," he said, 
 with a grin. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 PHCEBE ELLE^ braced her elbow against her knee and 
 propped her chin in her hand. When a woman of lively 
 tongue and slow sensibilities is forced to face the conse 
 quences of her eloquence, she is in for a long period of 
 meditation. The lively tongue has run ahead of self-in 
 terest, and it takes time for the slow sensibilities to catch 
 up ; and when they do they are not always equal to a 
 proper readjustment of moral speed. Phoebe Ellen was 
 as surprised at Sam Tinker s transformation into an an 
 tagonistic force as if her ordinary processes had turned to 
 acts of thaumaturgy, and a demon with a will of his own 
 had been evolved instead of the compliant genius of her 
 expectations. She could not understand it. She was 
 accustomed to scolding, and to the settlement of ends by 
 that means. It had not occurred to her that there might 
 be natures to whom such a settlement was impossible, and 
 to whom the employment of such means was an affront. 
 She had applied her ordinary little match to what seemed 
 the ordinary little pile of kindling-wood, and that an ex 
 plosion occurred was no more to be accounted for than are 
 any of those outbreaks which we prepare against ourselves 
 in the egotism intended to forestall such result. 
 
 Something of all this was manifest to Pinky, who, real 
 izing that there was no more fun to be got out of the 
 situation at present, busied himself about some freight on 
 another part of the platform. It was mostly kegs. 
 
 As for Anny, she had seated herself on a candle-box at 
 a distance from the station building a coign of vantage 
 from which she could see the mountains on all sides. 
 
20 
 
 They took her eye with an enchantment which was new 
 to her., and she was content to look np at them and won 
 der and adore. She found a rapturous satisfaction in 
 tracing the outline of the peaks against the cloudless 
 blue ; here an abrupt upward notch in the sky-line, there 
 a carefully rounded dome, and there again a steady, even, 
 heavenward slope, up which she could almost feel the 
 high winds racing. The gulches made purple havoc of 
 the shadows all along the foot-hills, and stretches of dis 
 tant pines sent murky ripples up ridge and mesa. 
 
 For some time a student of physiognomy would have 
 discovered in Phoebe Ellen s face nothing but a look of 
 mingled anger and surprise. But gradually this expres 
 sion gave place to a droop of self-distrust in the muscles 
 about the mouth and chin. Then she began to look 
 about in search of her sister. 
 
 "Sis I" she called, when she had discovered her. 
 
 Anny removed her eyes from the white peaks with a 
 vacant effort at attention, and for a minute did not seem 
 to understand. 
 
 " Come ere a minute !" 
 
 She arose and moved forward, the look of wrapped con 
 templation gradually giving place to her habitual expres 
 sion of friendly interest. 
 
 " We re in it, ain t we ?" Phoebe Ellen said, with a faint 
 little smile which betrayed the shattered self-confidence 
 beneath it. 
 
 Anny took up a standing position at her sister s side. 
 
 "It looks that way," she admitted, without referring 
 to the folly that had brought them into their difficulties. 
 
 " Well, wot be we goin to do ?" 
 
 It was so seldom that Phcebe Ellen made any appeal 
 except to the obedience of those around her that Anny 
 was immediately touched. She was unaccustomed to the 
 sight of that somewhat vixenish face with the lips tremu 
 lous and a flaccid droop about the chin. Anny s sense of 
 
21 
 
 humor was strong the whole situation had been a mixt 
 ure of tragedy and comedy to her but her sympathies 
 were stronger. 
 
 "Never mind/ she said, soothingly. "Never mind." 
 
 "He don t mean to come back," Phoebe Ellen announced, 
 in a hollow tone. 
 
 "We ll find a way out/ said Anny, cheerfully. 
 
 " We can t go on a-settiii ere ferever." Phoebe Ellen s 
 pronoun was oblivious of Anny s standing posture, as was 
 her following remark. " This ere plankin s gittin tired 
 a ready. I d like to be moviii on." 
 
 "So ud I," assented Anny. 
 
 f But we can t start out alone " 
 
 "I reckon we could find the way." 
 
 " Oh, we could find the way fast nough I ain t afeerd 
 o that. I was thinkin o wot we d do arterwards." 
 
 "Arterwards?" 
 
 "Arter we got to the ranch. A ranch out ere ain t 
 like wot tis in Nebrasky. We got to have some un 
 aroun t s used to things." 
 
 "We couldii t tend to it like we orter, all to wunst," 
 assented Anny, in her slow, even drawl. 
 
 " Oh, I know it !" groaned Phoebe -Ellen, dropping her 
 hands between her knees. " They ain t nother soul bout 
 that ranch t kin run it Dan s letters used to say so ; n 
 if we go to run it ourselves, we ll run it into the groun . 
 He s got to go back till I kin git the hang o things. We 
 can t git long thout im." 
 
 "No," acquiesced the even voice. 
 
 " N arter I larn the ins V outs I ll fire im s quick 
 it 11 make his head swim ! I ll set the dorgs onto im 
 I ll pitch im into the river ! But how to git im back ? 
 He don t need to work, cause he s got a ranch somers o 
 his own. To think o him over there this minute, fillin 
 his skin with whiskey, while we But the herders is all 
 used to mindin im wot if they was to leave in a wad if 
 
 
22 
 
 we was to go back thout Mm ? Lots o cowboys won t 
 mind a woomarn Dan used to say so. N I can t look 
 arter the cattle V errygation Mi the range till I larn the 
 workin o things. Wot be we goin to do ?" 
 
 "It s plain notigh to me wot orter be done." Anny s 
 words had become positive, but her tone was as mild as 
 ever. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen was in a melting mood. People always 
 are when they extend helpless arms to be lifted out of their 
 scrapes. 
 
 " I ve knowed ye to have idees," she conceded, almost 
 with tears. 
 
 " In fact, they ain t but one thing to be done," contin 
 ued Anny. 
 
 "Well, let s hear it." 
 
 The pretty, drawling voice articulated with a distinct 
 ness which might have belonged to a more incisive utter 
 ance. 
 
 " Go over to the s loon V call Mm out V tell Mm ye re 
 sorry." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen stiffened her neck, glared, snorted, drew 
 down her mouth, gave her head a sideward fling, and 
 clamped both hands around her knee. 
 
 " Well !" she said, in a fatal tone. " If that don t beat 
 the speckled Jews !" 
 
 " It Mid work," persisted Anny, gently. 
 
 " Work ! Tell Mm I m sorry ! Well, if that s all the 
 idee ye got, nough s been said." She waited a moment 
 for Anny to expatiate on the advantages of her plan, but 
 as no argument was offered, she went on in a modified 
 tone, " Tell Mm I m sorry ! I reckon I see myself !" 
 
 " Then I reckon I might s well set down, too, n make 
 myself to hum ?" inquired Anny, with unruffled serenity. 
 
 " I reckon ye might, if that s all ye got to offer ; V ye 
 might s well make up yer mind to set ere till the crack 
 o doom, too, though this plankin s orfle hard. Tell Mm 
 
23 
 
 I m sorry !" The energy of the repetition suggested a 
 feebleness of resistance which Anny was not slow to un 
 derstand. It even implied a familiarity with the idea 
 before it had been presented. 
 
 " Well, ye was wrong, now, waVt ye, sis ?" the younger 
 sister said, persuasively, laying her hand on Phoebe Ellen s 
 knee. 
 
 "Wrong? Never!" cried the latter, tightening her 
 mouth and drawing away. 
 
 "Well, a leetle bit quick, then. Ye ll have to own up 
 ye was a leetle bit quick." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen, who wanted to be coaxed, denied the 
 charge in a fainter voice. 
 
 " I waVt no sech thing ye know I waVt !" 
 
 " Ye orter V give im a chance to speak up V Vplain." 
 
 He orter V took the chance when he seen how mad I 
 was." 
 
 "No; ye didn t give im no show t all. Ye begun 
 on im afore he had time to open his mouth. That s 
 where ye was wrong. Ye acted like ye was reg larly 
 sp ilin fer a fight, V he seen it V kep still. Ye was on 
 the wrong side through the hull bizness, sis. Ye know it 
 yerself, only ye re mad V won t own up." 
 
 "He hadn t no bizness to be late, nohow." 
 
 " How d ye know that ? Ye orter V ast im V made 
 shore. N if he hadn t no scuse, twa n t sech a turble 
 sin, arter all. Half a hour s waitin didn t hurt us. Ye ve 
 kep us ere longer n that right now by bein cranky V 
 drivin im oif . Now ye ve got one o two things to do: git 
 into the waggin n start, or go over to the s loon V tell 
 im ye re sorry." 
 
 " I won t never do that." The tone was very feeble. 
 
 "Then wot s the use o waitin ere ? Why not jump in 
 V be off ?" 
 
 "Wot s the use o startin less Tinker goes long o us ? 
 He must have whiskey nough in im to float a ship by 
 
24 
 
 this. The ranch 11 go to everlastin pot thout im I 
 know twill. He s jes the one to boss the cowboys V 
 look arter the crops n cattle it s s plain s the shoes on 
 yer feet !" 
 
 "Oh, they ain t no question o his bein jes the man we 
 need ! But if we ve got to worry long thout im, why 
 not climb in n lick up ? This ain t no good." 
 
 " D ye see the way he lifted in that trunk ?" 
 
 Anny nodded. 
 
 "Tell im I m sorry? I ll see myself farther fust! 
 D ye reckon he looked so orfle mad ?" 
 
 "No ; only like he wouldn t be walked over." 
 
 " D I walk over im ?" 
 
 Anny smiled. 
 
 "No, but ye tried." 
 
 The sarcasm was lost on Phoebe Ellen. She was too op 
 pressed by her predicament to think of anything but a 
 possible way out of it. Suddenly she was struck with a 
 bright idea. 
 
 "Lookee ere, sis," she cried, "you go V tell im ye re 
 sorry !" 
 
 "Me ? He don t know me from Adam. He never even 
 looked at me wunst." 
 
 "I reckon I did take up most o his tention," reflected 
 Phoebe Ellen, not without pride. "But ye kin tell im 
 who ye be. Tell im ye re my sister that 11 fetch im. 
 He ll member me !" 
 
 "But I ain t done no thin to be sorry fer," objected 
 Anny. 
 
 "Wot s the differ ? If he wants some un to say they re 
 sorry, ye kin do it a heap purtier n wot I kin. Come, 
 now. Trot along !" 
 
 "Why, I d jes soon, s fur s the doin o it goes," said 
 Anny, still smiling. " But wot s the use o wastin time 
 like that? Ye re the one t done the wrong, n ye re the 
 one t 11 have to make it right." 
 
25 
 
 I don t see the differ. It s all in the fambly." 
 
 " Tain t a fambly affair, nohow. He ll see the differ, 
 n ye would yerself in his place." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen sighed. 
 
 " Ye re shore twouldn t go ?" 
 
 "Shore." 
 
 "0 course I won t pollygize to im," Phoebe Ellen 
 declared. " I can t. I never done sech a thing in my 
 life." 
 
 "Ye might a begun airlier, that s so/ remarked Anny, 
 always with her gentle smile. " But it s never too late to 
 mend,, ye know." 
 
 At this point another brilliant idea struck Phoebe 
 Ellen. 
 
 " Lookee ere, I ve got jes the thing !" she cried. 
 
 "Well, wot now?" 
 
 " Go over V tell im I m sorry ! Tell im I said I acted 
 mean, V I m sorry fer it !" Phoebe Ellen was quite jubi 
 lant over her ingenuity. "See how quick he ll come 
 down !" 
 
 But Anny understood this only as another evasion of 
 the main issue. She shook her head. 
 
 " Twon t do, sis, twon t do," she declared. 
 
 "I don t see why." 
 
 " Cause twon t sat sfy im." 
 
 "He s a queer un if that won t sat sfy im ! How d ye 
 know twon t ?" 
 
 "I seen it in is face." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen sniffed. 
 
 "Ye must V been lookin at im powerful hard to see 
 the like o that in his face !" 
 
 "Ye seen it there yerself, if ye ll only stop to think. 
 He won t take no beatin round the bush ye ve got to 
 git right down to bizness with Mm. Wot ud he do with 
 a pollygy from me, anyhow ?" 
 
 " Pollygy !" repeated Phoebe Ellen, with a scornful 
 
26 
 
 groan. " I ll never do it s long s I have a mouth to 
 screech with or nails to claw never! How kin I? I 
 don t know how ! Ye don t reckon he s gone V sneaked 
 out o the back door over there jes to git away from me, 
 do ye ? How kin I pollygize if he s gone afore I had the 
 chance? I b lieve the man s tuck a hatred o me from 
 the start, V made up is mind afore he seen me t he d 
 leave !" 
 
 "No no," soothed Anny, who saw her sister yielding. 
 
 "I can t see im from ere." 
 
 "He s somers inside. Go over V see." 
 
 "But if he shouldn t be there ?" 
 
 " Then ye kin come back n no harm done." 
 
 " N if he was to turn up is nose at me ?" 
 
 "He won t he won t !" 
 
 There was a silence, during which Phoebe Ellen s face 
 grew solemn. 
 
 "If he was to turn up his nose at me, I d never fer- 
 give ye fer it, sis I never could !" 
 
 Anny stifled a furtive smile, but said nothing. 
 
 "I d know wot makes me hate to do it so it s jest a 
 matter o bizness, arter all." 
 
 "Jest a matter o bizness, that s all," repeated Anny. 
 
 " N I m used to bizness I ve allus done it fer you 
 n me both. I m shore I don t keer wot he thinks o 
 
 me." 
 
 " Course not ! ; 
 
 "I ain t no call to want to show off afore im, n I 
 wouldn t do it if I had. But oh, sis, wot if he should 
 turn up is nose ?" 
 
 "I ll go bail he won t!" 
 
 " N wot if he shouldn t excep my pollygy ? Sis, I 
 should die !" 
 
 The position of the sisters had been momentarily re 
 versed. Phoebe Ellen s strength had become weakness, 
 and Anny s weakness strength. 
 
" He ll except it," declared the latter. 
 
 "If he don t, d ye know wot Fm goin to do ?" 
 
 " No. Wot ?" 
 
 " I m a-going to lay every bit o the blame on you!" 
 
 Army had expected some dreadful threat, but at this 
 anticlimax she laughed out. 
 
 "Well," she assented, "I kin stan that." 
 
 ((> W if he does except" 
 
 "Then ye kin take all the credit to yerself." Anny s 
 pretty smile was visible again. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen was too far gone by this time to resent 
 anything short of downright abuse. 
 
 "Ye ll go over with me, won t ye, sis ?" she pleaded. 
 " I kin never face that man alone !" 
 
 "No. Ye kin talk easier if I ain t there." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen realized the truth of this, and urged the 
 point no further. She rose slowly. 
 
 "I don t see s they s any use o kickin agin wot s 
 boun to be," was her comment, as she gained her feet. 
 "When the men gits on their high hosses, I don t see 
 who s left in the world to take em down but the wimmin. 
 It s only a matter o bizness, anyway. Wot do I keer wot 
 he thinks o me ?" 
 
 And she began to edge her way towards the saloon. 
 
 " course I won t pollygize," was her final declaration, 
 flung over her shoulder for Anny to catch as best she 
 might. " I ll jes tell im I m sorry I acted mean V won t 
 do it agin. Further n that I jes won t go so there ! 
 N if that don t suit im " 
 
 The succeeding words were lost as she dragged her 
 self saloonward. But she was still talking to herself. 
 "Who d a ever pictered me in sech a fix?" she muttered. 
 " Gittin down on my marrer-bones n crawlin afore a 
 man ! Well, they ain t no sense in half doin it. If I kin 
 der stan aroun on the edges o my dignity he ll never come 
 back. N he s got to come back I want im. No, I got 
 
to swoller the hull pill it 11 only taste bitterer to bite it 
 in two. Wot a fool I was to tackle im at fnst! I might 
 V knowed by the looks o im I couldn t use im fer a side 
 walk. If I get out o this scrape, I ll never try to come 
 it over im agin !" 
 
 Near the door of the saloon she straightened herself. 
 
 if Now fer it/ she said to herself. " Hull hog or none!" 
 
 Another step brought her to the threshold. She leaned 
 over and peered inside. 
 
 It was dark in there so dark that coming in from the 
 glare of the sun she could at first see nothing but shadows 
 within shadows. A noise directed her attention towards 
 the back of the room. A man opened the rear door, 
 letting in a momentary flood of light ; it illuminated a 
 scared masculine face with a billy-goat beard, turned 
 wildly in her direction before the door closed, and hid it 
 from view. " That mus be Pete Hawkins," thought 
 Phosbe Ellen, to whom his existence outside Pinky s de 
 scription suggested analogies. "Afeer d o a woomarn ! 
 If Sam Tinker was like that I could soon bring im. 
 aroun !" 
 
 Her glance wandered peeringly around the little room. 
 It was shabby, fly-blown, unwholesomely odorous. There 
 was an irregular wedge of cheese under a wire-screen box, 
 around which defunct flies lay thick as over-ripe black 
 berries on the grass in August. Overalls and tin pails 
 were strung together along a rope above the deal counter ; 
 there were canned goods, sugar-barrels, cracker - boxes, 
 sombreros, miners boots, and whiskey-kegs, all mingled to 
 gether as in the nightmare of an orderly shopkeeper. 
 On the left was a high table which served as bar. Over 
 this the only occupant of the place was leaning, or, rather, 
 sprawling, his chest touching it, both forearms extended 
 along it, his fingers clasped. It was Sam Tinker, and his 
 face was towards her. Evidently he had concluded that 
 her coming was an event not worthy of the attention of 
 
29 
 
 his whole body, for he did not move or recognize her 
 in any way except with his eyes. 
 
 " Come out a minute, will ye ?" she asked, in a tone 
 intended to be only conciliatory, but which was in fact 
 appealing. His face was utterly impassive as he gazed 
 back at her, and she could not imagine what expression 
 it would finally assume. Some sort of insensibility, of 
 course ; the big heavy features looked to her excited im 
 agination as if covered with rhinoceros hide. Or would 
 he frown ? Or would he laugh ? Or would he turn away 
 without answering her ? Or would he stare back at her 
 forever with that look of thick-skinned comfort ? Lest 
 any one of these dreadful things should happen she sup 
 plemented her request by a "Please," which was tremu 
 lous in spite of her. 
 
 The giant considered during a moment Avhich seemed 
 ages. Then he heaved his shoulders up from the bar, the 
 right one first, adjusted his hat with leisurely self-posses 
 sion, hitched up his overalls, thrust his thumbs into his 
 belt, and got under motion. 
 
 When he reached her side on the door-step he still said 
 nothing, but with the sunlight upon him he looked more 
 sentient and impressive. 
 
 " Ye wanted some more talk ?" he finally inquired. 
 
 (( I I wanted to to yes, they was suthin I wanted to 
 in fact they was suthin on my mind," she stammered, 
 twisting her hand into the folds of her gown and kicking 
 at a tuft of yucca which happened to be growing near. 
 There was an embarrassed meekness in her manner which 
 he rightly judged was new to her. 
 
 "Well, here I be," he said, smiling slightly at some 
 thought of his own. 
 
 The smile reassured her, though she did not under 
 stand it. 
 
 " I wanted to own up t I was mean to ye." Her voice 
 was scarcely audible, but it showed that she was suffering 
 
30 
 
 to the quick of her sensibilities. " Fve had time to think 
 it over, V I know I didn t use ye right, 11 I m sorry fer 
 it, n I ll take keer it don t happen agin." 
 
 The words were masculine in their simple directness, 
 but the tone gave them a distinct feminine effect. 
 
 The smile faded out of the giant s face and he regarded 
 her gravely, as if to make sure of her sincerity. Then he 
 said, just a hint of a smile returning to the corners of his 
 mustache : 
 
 " Oh, ye want me to go back ?" 
 
 " I do I" breathed Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " Well, see ere, now," he said, settling himself with 
 ponderous comfort upon one leg. " I d jes s soon go back. 
 Dan wanted me to stay with ye a year, V I promised im 
 I would, V we was pards. But I want to tell ye one 
 thing." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen s eyes sharpened upon his, eager for con 
 cessions. 
 
 " I m willin to give a count o myself s long s I m in 
 yer pay only I want the chance. I ve got a mouth on 
 me t kin talk if ye ll give it time, V it kin tell the truth, 
 too, so t ye kin depend on it. I ve got to be treated white 
 see ?" 
 
 " I ll treat ye white," Phoebe Ellen promised, humbly. 
 
 "Come on, then." 
 
 And he swung along ahead of her towards the station. 
 
 "The gray cast his shoe bout half-way over," he ex 
 plained to her, as she trudged along in his shadow. "It 
 took time to fix it." 
 
 "I orter a ast wot kep ye," said Phoebe Ellen, still 
 chewing her humble pie. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 PINKY and Anny had drawn close together to watch 
 the result of Phoebe Ellen s manoeuvring. 
 
 " She s got im!" cried the depot-man, as the conference 
 in front of the saloon broke up. " She must V come down 
 wonderful to git around im so soon. Why,, he s grinnin I" 
 
 "I shouldn t wonder if she done it funny," was Anny s 
 way of accounting for that phenomenon. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen came bobbing along in Sam s wake, and 
 looking as if she expected to be greeted by shrieks of deri 
 sion; but there was nothing to hurt her in the way she 
 was met by Pinky and Anny. On the platform the four 
 of them drifted into one of those provisional groups which 
 a disrupted social element forms as by a newly developed 
 centripetal force, and which always have an air of poten 
 tial rearrangement into more natural and comfortable re 
 lations. It is the attempt of society to make believe that 
 nothing has happened contrary to the gregarious instincts 
 which hold it together. 
 
 By no effort of her own Phoebe Ellen found herself in 
 Pinky s neighborhood. She looked pale, as if her descent 
 into the Valley of Humiliation had left her exhausted. 
 She talked a little, though with an effort. Pinky devoted 
 himself to her. She had torn her dress near the bottom,, 
 and graciously accepted his aid in pinning it up. She 
 made some complimentary remarks about the weather, 
 and Pinky told her this was only a sample of what Colo 
 rado could do ; she would get the whole piece as time 
 went on. Pinky hardly knew how he liked her best de 
 feated and deprecating, or confident and aggressive. 
 
Sam busied himself about the horses, after the seem 
 ingly purposeless manner of drivers the world over who 
 understand their business. He adjusted a buckle here, 
 a strap there, pulled the mustang s mane into shape, and 
 examined the foot of the gray from which the shoe had 
 been cast on the way over. 
 
 By the same subtle law which had brought Pinky and 
 Phoebe Ellen together on the platform, Anny strayed 
 around in Sam s direction. He was bending over the 
 foot of the gray at the moment, and when he rose he 
 faced her unexpectedly. He had not noticed her before, 
 and the pleasure of his surprise made a look of slow 
 dawn in his features. She was very pretty in her brown 
 sun-hat trimmed with red-clover blossoms, and with her 
 blond hair visible in fluffy curls around her forehead. 
 She was greatly like her sister, but her cheeks had more 
 color, her body more curves, her eyes more light. She 
 looked warmer, more approachable. He paused, gazing 
 at the womanly apparition with frank appreciation. 
 
 They stood thus for a full moment, she flushed but not 
 deeply embarrassed, he boldly but respectfully admiring. 
 She had approached him with .the intention of saying 
 something in condonement of her sister s temper, but his 
 frank enjoyment of the sight of her kept her silent. She 
 was not sure that she was altogether pleased with his 
 direct, satisfied gaze ; but certainly she was not offended. 
 She half wished she had not tried to say anything by way 
 of apology ; what if he should discover in her blushes the 
 fact that she thought him handsome ? Finally he said, 
 patting the gray absently with his big, steady hand : 
 
 t( Ye mus be er sister, I reckon ?" 
 
 The pronoun required no antecedent, and Anny nodded. 
 
 " Ye look like er," resumed Sam, after another leisure 
 ly survey of her from head to foot. 
 
 "Everybody says so," acknowledged Anny. She was 
 afraid her looks might be disagreeable after his con- 
 
33 
 
 flict with Phoebe Ellen. But his next words reassured 
 her. 
 
 "Everybody s right. Ye look like er with improve 
 ments." He began his speech gravely, but finished it with 
 a twinkle. 
 
 Anny smiled, still not quite easily. 
 
 " Ye ll like er better when ye know er," she said. 
 " Her bark s wuss n her bite." 
 
 Sam shifted his bulk from the left leg to the right, and 
 propped his elbow against the neck of the gray. 
 
 " Was it a bark or a bite I got ?" he inquired. His 
 smile started in his eyes and ended in the corners of his 
 mustache. 
 
 "A little o both, I reckon. Anyway, Fm glad she 
 brought ye back with er." 
 
 "So be I now" His eyes put a large meaning into 
 his speech. 
 
 She went on somewhat hurriedly ; 
 
 "I know twa ii t fer her sake nor mine t ye come 
 back. Dan wanted ye to look arter us he writ us afore 
 he died how he d got ye to promise to have an eye on us 
 fer a year. N I know ye don t have to work out he 
 told us bout that, too. I wanted to tell ye I knowed 
 how things was, so it wouldn t look like I was ongrate- 
 ful." 
 
 Her gravity was reflected in his face and speech as he 
 answered : 
 
 " Thankee. I ll do wot I kin. I keerd fer Dan. I 
 was with im when he died." 
 
 He had removed his elbow from the neck of the gray 
 and was again patting him absently. 
 
 He was buried near the house, wa n t he ?" Anny 
 finally asked, in a low tone. 
 
 "Jest a little above, under the pines." 
 
 " Pore Danpore Dan !" 
 
 " He was s straight a man s ever put spur to heel," 
 
34 
 
 said Sam, his tone softening as if not to make a discord 
 with the grief in hers. 
 
 "Some day ye mus tell me all bout it." The tremor 
 in her voice showed that the tears were not far behind. 
 Sam was moved, too, not only by the memory of his dead 
 friend, but by a sense of having come unexpectedly into 
 a heritage of large and precious acquaintance with that 
 friend s sister. 
 
 " Ye mustn t mind sis s bossy ways," Anny went on, 
 drying her eyes furtively on her handkerchief, and chang 
 ing a subject which was rapidly becoming too much for 
 both of them. "She s used to doin bout as she likes, 11 
 don t know jes where to draw the line." 
 
 "I sha n t mind now," Sam assured her. 
 
 She smiled up at him suddenly as she tucked her hand 
 kerchief into her belt. 
 
 " Oh, she ll never tackle you agin," she said, with a 
 soft little laugh. 
 
 By this time Phoebe Ellen had crawled into the back 
 seat of the buckboard, where she was sitting with a chast 
 ened look. Pinky was still in attendance. 
 
 " What d ye reckon they re talkin bout ?" she asked, 
 in a low tone, jerking her head in the direction of Anny 
 and Sam. 
 
 "Dunno." 
 
 "Mebbe it s me." Phoebe Ellen sniffed. 
 
 "I can t hear," Pinky declared. 
 
 "Mebbe he s tellin er all bout wot I said over to the 
 s loon, V they re laffin over it together." 
 
 " That ain t like Sam. He wouldn t do sech a thing." 
 
 "It ain t like sis, either," said Phoebe Ellen, with a 
 sigh of relief. "Looks like they re powerful int rested in 
 each other, though, don t it ?" 
 
 " Well, why not ? Sam s a likely feller." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen snorted. 
 
 " S if twas a question o his bein a likely feller ! I 
 
85 
 
 wonder if he s goin to stan there all day gossipin with 
 er ? It s time we was on the way to the ranch if we want 
 to git there afore midnight." 
 
 " Mebbe he s gittin stuck on er !" cackled Pinky. 
 
 " Stuck on er !" Phoebe Ellen s voice sounded so high 
 and hard that Pinky looked at her in surprise. 
 
 " Why not ?" he asked, innocently. 
 
 But catching his glance, she began to laugh. She 
 laughed quite boisterously, but, though Pinky joined her, 
 he failed entirely to see the point of the joke. 
 
 " Shall I see wot they re talkin bout ?" he volun 
 teered, when she had sobered down a little. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen stopped laughing as suddenly as she had 
 begun. 
 
 " S if it made any differ to me what they re talkin 
 bout !" she said, flinging her head back haughtily. 
 
 Then she was unaccountably silent. Pinky wondered 
 what there was in his offer to anger her she had first 
 showed an interest in the conversation of Anny and Sam, 
 and he had intended only to please her. " Wimmin is 
 queer," was the axiom by which he settled the question. 
 " They re nice, though," he supplemented, with his eyes 
 upon Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 In fact, she was thoroughly impatient to be gone it 
 filled her with an unaccountable rage to see how absorbed 
 Sam and Anny had become in each other but she would 
 have been torn by pincers before asking a favor of that 
 cowboy after the way he had treated her. If he chose to 
 wait till doomsday before starting for the ranch, he might, 
 for all of her. He had mastered her once, and she had 
 no intention of giving him another opportunity. 
 
 She kept up a desultory conversation with Pinky if 
 that cowboy could get so absorbed in talking to Anny, she 
 would show him that Pinky knew how to admire, too ! 
 but it was an effort. She realized with a suppressed fury 
 that Sam had the advantage of her throughout, for his 
 
36 
 
 eyes never wandered in her direction, though she often 
 looked to see. At last, however, he came around to the 
 side of the wagon and assisted Anny in. 
 
 " He needn t be so mighty keerf nl o er," whispered 
 Phoebe Ellen to Pinky. "She ain t eggs. She wouldn t 
 bust if she was to slip V take a tumble." 
 
 Then she became vociferous in her invitations for Pinky 
 to come over and visit her. One would have thought that 
 she had been hungering and thirsting during a long term 
 of years for his society, and that, having found it, she 
 never could have enough of it. She was so glad she had 
 met him ; she couldn t think how she would have put in 
 the long period of waiting at the depot if he hadn t been 
 there to talk to. And couldn t he manage to come over 
 next Sunday ? Couldn t he manage to come over every 
 Sunday ? She would be more at leisure then than on 
 other days, and they could have such fun ! But he must 
 be sure to come, Sunday or any day ; she wanted to know 
 him better, he was one of her kind. And 
 
 "Be ye ready?" inquired Sam Tinker, twitching the 
 lines with one large, impassive hand. For all she could 
 see, he had heard never a word of her gush over Pinky; 
 or if he had, he showed no resentment. 
 
 " Oh, ready yes," replied Phoebe Ellen, resolved to try 
 once more. Then turning to Pinky, " Wa n t it lucky we 
 had sech a chance to git quainted ? I swan, pears like 
 I m tickled mos to death with bein belated, bein that s 
 how we got to know each other. Let s shake ban s fer 
 good-luck to a better knowin o wot nice folks we be. I 
 reckon I ll have to go to house-cleanin bout s soon s I 
 git to the ranch, but ye ll allus be welcome. Come often, 
 V bring yer knittin !" 
 
 " Got mos through ?" inquired Tinker, glancing back 
 at her with a slow, enigmatic smile. . 
 
 The wagon drove off amid Phoebe Ellen s renewed invi 
 tations and Pinky s shrill acceptances. "Remember!" 
 
37 
 
 she shouted. "Sundays anyway, V other days when ye 
 kin !" When the widening distance swallowed up her 
 shrieks and his quavers, she contented herself with wav 
 ing her handkerchief, rising high in her seat that Sam 
 might enjoy the spectacle of her new-born friendship, 
 even though his face was turned the other way. 
 
 " Ain t he nice ?" she inquired of Anny in a loud voice, 
 when she at last seated herself for good. " I d know 
 when Fve been so took with a man s wot I be with him. 
 W I allus did like the name o 7 Dick ! It s s much nicer 
 n yer old Bible names \" 
 
 At that a slow grin dawned on Sam Tinker s face she 
 could see it by leaning to the right and peering around 
 his shoulder. The grin widened, and Phoebe Ellen fell to 
 wondering if she had made a fool of herself a second time 
 that day. Following out this thought, she became silent 
 and preoccupied, and at last angry. One can manage to 
 play out his part after a fashion, regardless of the disap 
 proval of the audience ; but when one s faith in himself 
 begins to fail, it is time to ring down the curtain and put 
 out the lights. 
 
 Anny and Sam, however, found plenty to talk about. 
 She had a hundred questions to ask about the country 
 through which they passed, learned to distinguish the 
 buffalo-grass on which the herds pastured, was properly 
 surprised at the soapy qualities of the yucca root, and be 
 came an expert in differentiating mountain sage from 
 sage-brush. She had a pretty, interested way of ask 
 ing questions which Sarn thought charming ; and his 
 well-considered answers impressed her as opinions of 
 weight and importance. By -and -by their conversation 
 wandered back to the death of her brother Dan, and Sam 
 described with grave simplicity the burial just above the 
 ranch on the mountain-side. All the cowboys and cow 
 men of the region there is a vast difference between what 
 is represented by the terms had been present, and old 
 
man Halstead had read the burial service. Army s face 
 grew very sorrowful as she listened ; it seemed pitiful 
 that he should die at such a distance from all his kin ; 
 she would have come at once had she only known ; but 
 Dan had a horror of what he considered being a burden 
 as if she would not have been easier in her mind to her 
 dying day had she been at his side through it all and min 
 istered to him. She wanted to know if grass and flowers 
 grew up there where he was buried. She had brought a 
 little cinnamon rose-bush on purpose to plant there, and 
 a white lily bulb, and some seeds ; and when she was told 
 that they had heaped a great pile of stones above the spot 
 to keep the coyotes from digging, she sat for several min 
 utes crying softly behind her handkerchief ; and Sam 
 looked back at her with a pitying comprehension of her 
 grief, saying simply : 
 
 "I keered fer Dan, too." 
 
 And in that community of loss both recognized the 
 growth of a friendship which, though sudden, was likely 
 to last. 
 
 For a little way beyond the spur of the foot-hills from 
 which they had seen Sam Tinker emerge the road wound 
 up a desolate canon, waterless and split into transverse 
 gulches, among whose rocks even the pines refused to 
 grow. There were queer cracks and chasms in this riven 
 world tumble- down mountains with their ruins all about 
 their bases, displaying caverns whose depths only the 
 eagles had explored, and thrusting forward high flat sur 
 faces which had been scooped by the storms into hollows 
 and troughs. Finally the road came out upon a summit 
 which hardly seemed a summit at all, for there were lof 
 tier elevations all around, shutting out the distances and 
 narrowing the horizon to a series of peaks and plateaus 
 which looked close enough to be touched. From that 
 point the highway began to descend and to become less 
 desolate. It passed into a stretch of mountain woodland, 
 
39 
 
 where mingled pines and aspens made a cool green light 
 along the ground, and the rocks, also clothed with pines, 
 were brilliantly red and yellow higher up. Huge bowl 
 ders had rolled from the cliffs, and here and there formed 
 what seemed impassable barriers ; but by a sudden dodge 
 the road got past and went on winding downward among 
 the trees. A tiny rill of water appeared beside the way. 
 It grew to a noisy stream, edged by willows and alders 
 and bordered by small tracts of hardy grass where the 
 canon widened and gave meadow-room. Now and then 
 the stream plunged down a precipice with an audible 
 thrill which made one s nerves tingle ; but at a distance 
 the sound became a dreamy monotone,, and the wind blow 
 ing it down the canon seemed laden with slumber, as if it 
 had traversed acres of Indian poppy -fields. The cliffs 
 became strangely like castle walls with loop-holes and 
 crenulated towers ; one beheld a natural bridge spanning 
 an arch of blue sky. There were queer likenesses of faces 
 in the profiles of the crags ; monsters, too a lion s head, 
 the outline of an elephant s back, a sphinx s calm forehead 
 turned heavenward, indifferent to human questioning. 
 There was something dreadful in the narrowness and 
 height of the horizons ; the gulches suggested the beau 
 ties and terrors of an unknown world. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen sat silent through it all, listening to the 
 conversation between Anny and Sam. She was as com 
 pletely out of it as if she had not existed. She was con 
 scious of a gradually increasing sense of indignation. Sam 
 Tinker had crushed her, and was gloating over her humili 
 ation. She longed for an opportunity to assert herself, to 
 impress herself upon the moment, so that he would remain 
 in awe of her forever. But occasion was not propitious ; 
 and even had she seen her way to some violent act of self- 
 assertion she would have failed to grasp it, in the assur 
 ance that somehow he would get the advantage of her. 
 Only once did her displeasure manifest itself, and that 
 
40 
 
 was when he took a pipe and a bag of tobacco from his 
 pocket and prepared to fire up. 
 
 " Objeck to smokin ?" he aske d, over his shoulder, after 
 he had rammed the tobacco in with his forefinger and 
 packed it with his thumb. 
 
 "Not a bit/ was Anny s cordial answer. 
 
 But at this point Phoebe Ellen s longing to assert herself 
 overcame her discretion, and her pent-up anger exploded. 
 
 " Well, 1 do !" she cried. The noisy fierceness of her 
 tone was funny, and she half comprehended its absurdity. 
 "I hate it!" 
 
 Sam scratched a match on his overalls and applied it 
 deliberately. Then he took two or three leisurely pulls, 
 and, after making sure of the draught, tightened the reins 
 with a suddenness which brought the horses to their 
 haunches. 
 
 "Whoa !" he cried. 
 
 "Good land !" cried Anny. "Anything broke ? How 
 ye skeered me ! Wot s the matter ?" 
 
 He jerked his head towards Phoebe Ellen, who was di 
 rectly behind him. 
 
 " She don t like smoking" he answered, in a matter-of- 
 fact tone, as he flung an enormous puff in Phoebe Ellen s 
 direction, "V I didn t know but wot she d like to git out 
 n walk the rest o the way." They remained motion 
 less for two or three minutes in the middle of the road. 
 " Hey ?" he finally asked, half turning, as if to catch 
 Phoebe Ellen s answer. 
 
 Her reply came after another moment of silence. 
 
 " Ye kin drive along," she said, in a faint voice. "/ 
 kin stan it, I reckon. I m learnin to stan anything 1" 
 
 And as the horses started once more she resolved in her 
 heart more firmly than ever to let Sam Tinker alone as 
 long as his services were necessary on the ranch. But he 
 and Anny went on talking as if nothing had happened. 
 They were getting acquainted with a vengeance. She 
 
41 
 
 wondered why Anny didn t climb over on the front seat 
 in order to be closer to him. "They might whisper to 
 each other then," she thought, bitterly. 
 
 Down, still down they went among the gulches. Here 
 the foot-hills parted, as if to reveal the awful purple 
 stretches of pines on distant mountain-sides ; there the 
 shadows of clouds made gorgeous blue daubs along the 
 red and yellow mesas ; close at hand the trees looked like 
 black splashes among the rocks, as if a battle of literary 
 Titans had taken place there, and the ink from broken 
 bottles had not yet dried. The pines and aspens grew 
 thicker and thicker on the uplands ; the willows and cot- 
 tonwoods hid the hurrying water ; the rock-maple sent 
 its projectile-like curves throughout the long line at the 
 foot of the cliffs, as if a fairy army were opening its bat 
 teries upon the road ; clematis twined over tree trunks 
 and low shrubs ; sweetbrier sent its cool incense up from 
 shady places. 
 
 " This ere s suthin like," said Anny, with a long breath 
 of satisfaction. " Ye kin breathe ere. Ye kin look 
 aroun thout feelin sorry ye ain t somers else." 
 
 " It s purtier still to the ranch," Sam assured her. 
 
 " Is it fur yit ?" 
 
 " Only a little ways. Ye turn a rock n come right on 
 it all to wunst a little above it, 11 it lays all afore ye, 
 like it was spread out a-purpose to be looked at." 
 
 " I know I ll like it," said Anny, with a fervent glance 
 around her. 
 
 The road narrowed. One wheel of the wagon was in 
 the current for a little way. A steep scramble down one 
 side of a miniature waterfall, a plunge into the cool green 
 shadows of the cottonwoods, a whirl to the left around a 
 spur of rock, and then 
 
 "Here we be !" cried Sam Tinker. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE valley lay all below them, narrow and irregular 
 and green, beginning as a fall where the rocks split and 
 let the river through, below which a pool whirled its foam 
 and bubbles among conflicting currents, and still farther 
 down expanded into shallows and ripples and noise. Be 
 low that the stream uncoiled its silvery length along the 
 green of the lowlands, and was lost to the eye among dis 
 tant willows before it disappeared from the landscape in 
 the stately curve of the valley which bounded the view on 
 the south. Just now the water was dulled by the after 
 noon shadows, and the only gleam visible was the white 
 of the shallows here and there among the trees ; but had 
 it been earlier in the clay the current would have sent 
 forth a flash so sharp as to hurt the eye and oblige it to 
 turn for rest towards the pine-clad ridges and the blue 
 sky. 
 
 The stream they had been following took a sudden turn 
 to the left and plunged into the bottoms, where its course 
 to the river could be traced by willoAVS and alders and a 
 tenderer growth of grass. There were mountains on every 
 side, stopping up both ends of the valley and sheltering 
 it as if taking thought of its peace and comfort. The 
 summits took the shapes of towers and walls and domes ; 
 pinnacles and Gothic arches and flying buttresses pro 
 duced the effect of Cyclopean architecture in ruins. 
 There were rows of sculpture, too, set high on the rocks 
 stately statues of men and women in crudely carved 
 drapery, and busts of Titans defying heaven moulded by 
 the random chisel of the Storm in those mad moments 
 
43 
 
 when he dashes to his work with the floods in one hand 
 and the lightnings in the other. 
 
 The sun still took the mountain-tops in flashes of green 
 and gold, and brought the pines on slope and ridge into 
 sharp relief against the sky. The valley was all in shadow, 
 but who can describe the distances made plain by those 
 shades of luminous obscurity which always fill sheltered 
 spaces where the light is dropped down by reflections from 
 the upper air? At the lower end of the long "open" 
 the peaks were only dreams of mountains ; the foot-hills 
 on the west were so heavily and softly purple that they 
 seemed to have been woven with a velvet nap ; the nearer 
 distances were purple, too, with aerial touches of gray and 
 violet along swell and hollow. The pines made the slopes 
 all soft and feathery, here black, there purple, there green 
 even yellow where the sunshine still lingered on the 
 heights. 
 
 On the bottoms were outlined angular spaces under cul 
 tivation. An oat -field thrust its sharp corner to the 
 highest point of the irrigation ditch, clear to the edge of 
 the cliff, and thence stretched to the river in widening 
 lines, a mottled expanse of sensitive gray which seemed 
 to thrill with a nervous ecstasy as the wind passed. The 
 coarse, wholesome green of potato -tops gave utilitarian 
 value to a stretch of black soil near the willows by the 
 river. Farther up-stream, enclosed in a neat brush paling, 
 was a garden-plot whose contents, with the exception of 
 several lusty rows of pea-vines, could not be determined 
 in detail at a distance, but which inspired a joyous con 
 fidence that everything good grew there in its season and 
 tasted better for having absorbed the pure air and water 
 of the mountains. 
 
 The ranch buildings were placed on a slope well back 
 from the river, and shaded by the hills at morning and 
 evening and by the pines at noon. Their irregularity was 
 in itself picturesque, making them one with the rocks and 
 
44 
 
 trees among which they were scattered. They were bnilt 
 of logs with adobe chinking, and roofed with slabs and 
 thatch. There were so many barns, all so low, and lying 
 at such queer angles with each other, that their builder 
 might have been some primitive architectural giant, who 
 in a frolic had played jackstones with them after their 
 completion. There was a wagon-shed, a hen-park, a pig 
 pen with a princely domain for a rooting-ground by the 
 river ; there were long rows of stanchions under a thatched 
 shed ; and several big corrals, built of mighty logs at the 
 base, and slanting up to top-rails of little saplings, were 
 visible at irregular distances from the barns. One saw 
 scattered stacks of hay, straw, and alfalfa, the overflow of 
 last year s abundance. The home ranch, as the dwelling- 
 house was called, was long and low like the other build 
 ings, but forever distinguished by a shingle roof and a 
 veranda. The pines cast an austere shadow about the 
 place, and just above it a small stream dashed headlong 
 down the rocks and disappeared in the irrigation ditch 
 above the oat-field. The entire spot looked clean and 
 cool, as if the dew had just washed it. 
 
 Anny laughed out, drawing in a slow breath, and ex 
 haling it with the sound which follows a gasp of pleas 
 ure. 
 
 " It s lovely I" she cried, with kindled eyes. "Ain t it 
 lovely, sis ? N it looks like it was well took keer of. 
 See how tidy tis aroun the straw-stacks ! Dan used to 
 say that was a sure sign o a keerful rancher. Don t ye 
 like it a ready ? It is difrent from Xebrasky." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen set her jaws before answering. 
 
 " It 11 do," was all that could be got from her. 
 
 "It s the purtiest spot atop o God s green airth," de 
 clared Sam Tinker, as solemnly as if repeating a Credo. 
 " N not only that, but they s money in it. Tain t devel 
 oped yit but jest you wait !" His enthusiasm compelled 
 him to speak more rapidly than usual, and for greater 
 
45 
 
 convenience he took his pipe from his mouth. "We ve 
 allus raised three crops o oats a year we let em seed 
 theirselves jest afore we cut em, V the errygation does 
 the rest. They ain t no sech thing as a failure o crops 
 the place is pertected from cold V wind, V we kin turn 
 on the water when we like. Be ye a perfessor ?" he 
 asked, suddenly turning to Anny. 
 
 " A perfessor ?" 
 
 "A church member, ye know." 
 
 "Oh no," smiled Anny, wondering what was coming next. 
 
 " I was goin to say if ye was, ye d feel kinder lost out 
 ere on the Kio Grande." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 "Ye wouldn t have nothin to pray fer. Our rains 
 never las more 11 a hour or so in the arternoon, n the 
 groun s dry s ever afore night. N when we want rain 
 we jes go up to the head o the ditch n turn it on. It s 
 a powerful savin on a man s pants." 
 
 " Oh," Anny laughed. And it was evident that he en 
 joyed her appreciation of his joke, though he only smiled. 
 
 When she had laughed sufficiently she began her ques 
 tioning anew. 
 
 " Where s the herds brother Dan used to write s much 
 bout ? I don t see a single steer iiowheres aroun the 
 valley." 
 
 " They re scattered all through the hills. They don t 
 hang roun the ranch much, n we don t want em. The 
 ranch is eighteen or twenty mile long, ye know, n broad 
 correspondin they have room nough thout trespassin 
 on the home ground. They like it better to wander off, 
 n so do we." 
 
 " But don t they git lost ?" 
 
 "It s got a fence round it, the ranch has it was fin 
 ished last fall. But they do sometimes wander off." 
 
 " The fence gits out of repair ? I should think the 
 wires ud pull loose." 
 
46 
 
 Sam s pipe had gone out, and he finished it by 
 knocking out the ashes against the wheel, loosening the 
 stem, and restoring the dismembered apparatus to his 
 pocket. 
 
 " Sometimes they git cut," he said. 
 
 "Cut ?" repeated Anny. " But how ?" 
 
 " The rustlers does it." 
 
 "Oh, the cattle-thieves." 
 
 Sam nodded. 
 
 " N if ye ketch em?" 
 
 "We deckerate the nearest evergreen with em." 
 
 " Oh," said Anny, with a shudder. 
 
 " Tam t s common s t used to be," Sam hastened to 
 say. Then, with a true Westerner s estimate of the enor 
 mity of cattle-stealing, " But it sarves em right, damn 
 em ! It sarves em right !" 
 
 Anny changed the subject hastily. 
 
 " I should think the cattle ud freeze out on the hills in 
 the winter." 
 
 " Oh, they would if they stayed up on the higher levels. 
 But they s lots o sheltered places with grass V water. 
 They come into the valley then, too lower down ; V it s 
 allus moderate ere. That s why we ve got the crops fenced 
 in it don t do to have em trampled on, even when they 
 ain t growin . It s rare we lose any stock by freezin . 
 Though they s fool steers the same s fool humans, V 
 they ain t no tellin wot sort o cold weather they ll wan 
 der into." Phoebe Ellen tightened her lips as she won 
 dered whether she had better make a personal application 
 of this bit of wisdom. " But they ve ketched sight o us 
 from the home ranch see?" he went on. "That s 
 Leatherhead wavin both arms V feet out in front o 
 the verandy." Sam had taken off his sombrero and was 
 waving it in answering greeting. 
 
 Anny laughed softly. She was in a mood to be pleased 
 with everything. 
 
47 
 
 " Leatherhead !" she repeated. "It s mean to call im 
 that. 0" course it ain t his reel name." 
 
 " I d know wot his reel name is I never thort to ast. 
 We jes call im that, I d know why. He d be a fool if he 
 couldn t cook." 
 
 "Mebbe that s why/ smiled Anny. " Pears like we 
 was overlookin everything, clean on top o the world." 
 Then with a sudden change in her voice, " N Dan s 
 grave kin we see that from ere ?" 
 
 Sam swept his calm eyes along the valley to the build 
 ings, and there seemed to be peering in among the shad 
 ows. 
 
 "I kin see jest where myself, but I d know s I kin 
 p int it out. Ye see the big round rock jest a little way 
 up from the nigh corner o the verandy, with the pines 
 all around it ?" 
 
 She brought her eyes on a level with his pointing 
 finger. 
 
 "Yes I see." 
 
 " N the big pine in the middle o the group ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, it s right under there." He lowered his hand 
 to his knee, where it rested, ponderous and immobile, 
 palm downward. "Ye can t see the heap o stones it s 
 in shadder. It ain t two minutes walk from the front 
 door. Dan had the place all picked out he used to go 
 up there n lay down in his blanket fer hours, afore he 
 got so he couldn t leave the house. It s a purty spot, if 
 a body wants to set down n look aroim . Often when 
 I ve got a bit o harness to mend, or when I want a quiet 
 pipe all by myself, I go up there." 
 
 "A gal could take er sewin V stay all the arter- 
 noon," said Anny. "I kin jes think wot twould be 
 like." 
 
 Sam nodded gravely. And after a little meditative 
 pause she continued : 
 
48 
 
 "It 11 seem like gittin clost to Dan. I know he ll 
 like it." 
 
 Her glance wandered from the pine grove up the road 
 along which they would have to pass. A little in front 
 of them the entire mountain-side looked as if it had been 
 overturned by a plough. 
 
 "Ye ain t agoin to try to raise crops on that hill-side, 
 I hope ?" she inquired. " How d ye manage to plough 
 it, anyhow ? Kin ye git water up there ?" 
 
 Sam moved his big hand from his knee to the seat be 
 side him, gouged his knuckles into the wood, and thus 
 turned so as to face her. 
 
 " Oh, that s las spring s landslide," he said. 
 
 Anny was inclined to laugh, but he looked so grave 
 that she sobered up instantly. 
 
 " D ye have em every spring ?" she inquired. 
 
 "Oftener." 
 
 She opened her mouth and eyes simultaneously. 
 
 "Every spring, n often atween times. Look down 
 b low there n see wot a lot o the mountain s dumped 
 itself into the valley." 
 
 "It mus be orfle when it s goin ," shivered Anny, 
 peering over the road s edge and down the slope. " Tell 
 me wot it s like." 
 
 " Tain t like nothin but jes wot tis a hull mountain 
 side t s took a notion to go tobogganin 7 . But it goes 
 how it goes ! N it don t stop till it s had its fun. Ye 
 see, they s a stretch o soil long there reel adobe soil, 
 too t ain t got no rocks nor trees nor nothin to hold it 
 in place, V bein it s purty steep, every wunst in a while 
 it gits up V moves off." 
 
 "I shouldn t like to be anigh it when it got under 
 way," remarked Anny, still with her eyes upon the 
 "dump." 
 
 "It ain t never done no harm yit," said Sam, "fer no 
 body hain t happened to be in the way o it when it got on 
 
49 
 
 a tear. The soil mus be purty deep to keep it up year 
 arter year like it does ; but I reckon they ain t s much 
 peels off s wot we think." 
 
 " If anybody happened to be in the way o it when it got 
 started/ asked Anny, still gazing down the mountain-side, 
 " wot ud it do ?" 
 
 Sam s face grew solemn. 
 
 "Bury em alive/ he answered. 
 
 " Bury em alive ?" repeated Anny, in a hushed voice. 
 
 He nodded gravely. 
 
 "So deep, too, t they couldn t never be found till 
 Jedgment Day. Nobody d know where to dig fer em/ 
 
 " What a orfle thing !" murmured the girl. 
 
 "Ye see, the road runs right crossways o it, V that s 
 allus seemed to me sorter like flyin in the face o Provi 
 dence. The jar o drivin over it might easy set the hull 
 thing into motion. It never has, I know ; but I ve allus 
 made shore it might. If it should start off when a team 
 was passin well, the nex thing seen o them ^d. be 
 when Gabriel got arter em with his trumpet V led em 
 home to glory. I tole Dan more n wunst jest how it 
 looked to me, n he lowed I was right, V meant to turn 
 the road higher up ye see, it could be easy made to run 
 off there to the right, above them rocks. W then they 
 wouldn t be no danger." 
 
 "We kin fix it," said Anny, with her deliberative 
 nod. 
 
 " Somehow Dan allus found suthin else to do, with the 
 crops or the live-stock, or suthin . i Ye 11 wait too long/ 
 I used to tell im. l Ye ll wait till some un s killed afore 
 ye ll reely see the need o it. But I never drive acrosst 
 the place thout feelin thankful when I m over. N I 
 ain t never been cused o bein nervous, neither." 
 
 They paused a moment for him to point out the various 
 buildings and speak of their uses, and to call attention to 
 one of the ranch dogs which was bounding up the road to 
 
50 
 
 meet them ; then he gathered up the reins preparatory 
 to driving on. 
 
 " Wait a minute !" cried Anny, suddenly, clutching his 
 sleeve. " I want to git out V walk." 
 
 He turned with a look of smiling question. 
 
 "How silly!" snapped Phoebe Ellen. "Wot freak s 
 gone V struck ye now ?" 
 
 "It ain t but a step," persisted Anny, "Vail down 
 hill." 
 
 " Oh, tain t the distance I objeck to," explained Phoebe 
 Ellen, in a biting tone. "It s the idee. Wot s the mean- 
 in o it ? Flopdoodlin in V out o a waggin like they 
 wa n t nothin perm nent nor settled in the world !" 
 
 Anny looked abashed but determined. 
 
 " Is it silly? Well, mebbe tis. But I want to go to 
 the house by way o Dan s grave. The idee come to me 
 all to wunst, V I know he d like me to kerry it out. The 
 fust thing I do, I d like to put some flowers on that pile o 
 stones it seems sech a dretful thing to be buried under 
 a pile o stones, sis " Her voice wavered and broke. 
 Phoebe Ellen made no further objection, and her grim face 
 visibly relaxed as her eyes wandered back from Anny to 
 the pine grove where her brother was buried. 
 
 " I ll help ye to light," said Sam, his strong features 
 taking an added degree of strength from his approval. 
 
 " No, don t mind," Anny replied, and she was out upon 
 the ground before he 1 fairly knew what had happened. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE wagon rolled down the slope. The dog from the 
 ranch, facetiously named Investigator, came up with wag 
 ging tail and lolling tongue, and, after a lusty greeting from 
 Sam, went on to make Army s acquaintance. Sam looked 
 back once, and saw the two moving soberly along above 
 the road, already on the best of terms and thoroughly ap 
 proving of each other, as good dogs and good people al 
 ways do. Anny was gathering Mariposa lilies, and bunch 
 ing them in her left hand by their long stems. 
 
 ee Dan liked them posies best o all," Sam reflected. 
 "Queer t she should strike em fust off to fix up his 
 grave with. Tears like she gits at things the right way 
 thout bein told. That s everything in a woomarn !" 
 
 He crossed the landslide and went considerably beyond 
 without turning to look at her again. But he had the 
 picture of her in his mind, holding her bouquet a little 
 aloft as she bent to add to it, while Investigator observed 
 her with grave interest, as if it were his affair, too. Imag 
 ination was not Sam s strong point, but he had never re 
 ceived a more vivid impression than that of the young 
 girl, stepping lightly upward into the feathery gray of the 
 mountain-sage and seeming to carry sunshine up the hill, 
 though it was all in shadow. Phoebe Ellen rode silently, 
 and he was glad of that. Her mood of sullen patience 
 was better than anything she was capable of in the way of 
 speech. 
 
 All at once a whirring sound seemed to pass through the 
 clatter of the wagon a sort of acoustic blur, something 
 deadening, benumbing a sort of aerial paralysis. Was it 
 
52 
 
 a sound, or only a motion at a distance ? It might have 
 been an expansion or contraction of the air itself, a stir 
 through infinite spaces ; a hush, maybe, dropped from the 
 serene blue zenith, or rising from unimaginable depths. 
 The horses slackened their speed of their own accord, the 
 mustang laid back his ears and flung out with a startled 
 irregularity. For an instant which was too long the 
 world seemed listening, breathless, intent on some horror 
 to be let loose in the wake of this audible hush. And 
 the hush itself had a meteor crossed the sky unseen ? 
 Ordinary sounds made themselves heard the ripple of 
 the river, persistent, monotonous, horrible; then other 
 sounds, louder and more horrible the sound of solids 
 straining apart, mysterious flutterings all about, as if 
 the blind forces of Nature w r ere stirring to anger. 
 
 " Wot is it ?" whispered Phoebe Ellen, vaguely horrified, 
 as one who receives a warning of death. 
 
 The solid earth quivered, a dull rumble broke the si 
 lence of the hills. 
 
 Sam Tinker knew what it all meant. He had been 
 through it before. 
 
 " It s the landslide/ he answered, with an awful 
 calm. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen echoed his word, not understanding it. 
 She was like one who has suddenly become deaf. 
 
 " The landslide ?" 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "It s started," he declared. His features were white, 
 his lips were drawn thin against his teeth. " God 
 Almighty couldn t stop it now I" 
 
 " Wot a queer noise !" said Phoebe Ellen. It was evi 
 dent that she still did not understand. 
 
 But the knowledge of their situation grew into her face 
 in set lines which made her look as if she were screaming. 
 Her first thought was of herself. She had not yet looked 
 back towards her sister. 
 
53 
 
 " But ain t we acrosst it ?" she managed to gasp. Her 
 voice sounded as if a man s hand were at her throat. 
 
 " We ? Wot o that ? But yer sister" 
 
 He had turned in fyis seat, and was staring behind him 
 with bursting eyes. 
 
 " Great God ! Look I" 
 
 She cared for what was happening behind her she 
 realized as the less of two horrors that some dreadful 
 calamity had befallen her sister, but a still more dreadful 
 fate was staring herself and Sam in the face. 
 
 "The horses!" she gasped, clutching his arm in her 
 fear. " They re pitchin us over the mountain-side !" 
 
 Sam had forgotten the team in the horror of watching 
 what was taking place behind him. He turned, tighten 
 ing the reins mechanically in a grip of iron. The horses 
 had dragged the wagon out of the road, and were rearing 
 and plunging. Another lurch, and they would all be 
 hurled down the mountain-side together. 
 
 "Jump!" he cried. "I kin hold em a minute, n 
 then they ll have to take keer o theirselves. The mus 
 tang s gone clean mad. Jump ! We mus go back to 
 Phoebe Ellen !" 
 
 She gathered her skirts about her and cleared the wheel 
 at a bound. And even as she did so, by some dual action 
 of the mind which is as mysterious as it is common, she 
 felt a foolish anger that he should confuse her identity 
 with her sister s as if she had not given him sufficient 
 reason to know her ! " I didn t reckon he was thick 
 headed," she had time to think before she touched the 
 ground. " But he is. That 11 be a p int agin im if I ever 
 want to come down on im heavy." And then she was 
 standing by the road-side, conscious of nothing but that 
 the world was full of horrors and that the climax had not 
 yet come, and that she had no means of preventing it. 
 
 Meanwhile Sam had also leaped out, and, with a dexter 
 ous pull the strength of steel operated by the quickness 
 
54 
 
 of lightning had got the horses once more into the road ; 
 then he flung the reins over the dashboard, and left the 
 frightened brutes to rush as madly as they pleased towards 
 the barn. 
 
 All this had taken but a moment a moment charged 
 with life and death. Then Sam was dashing full run up 
 the hill. He had breath and strength enough Perseus 
 rushing to the rescue of Andromeda had not more of the 
 vigor of manhood in him but it seemed to him that he 
 was struggling in a nightmare, beating the air vainly 
 with hands and feet, and panting in the agony of being 
 unable to move. 
 
 The rumbling in the air had grown to a roar a roar 
 with potential volumes of sound behind it which might 
 crack the hills. The noise seemed to strike into the 
 ground and set it into sympathetic vibration ; it was as 
 if the earth had been stricken with ague and sat shiv 
 ering. 
 
 Sam s eyes were riveted upon the landslide, and he no 
 ticed the noises about him only as an accompaniment of 
 the horror taking place there. It was all before him a 
 foot-hill in motion, a world falling back into chaos. Im 
 agine a mountain-side torn off like a piece of rotten cloth, 
 and flung down by forces which are at once the preservers 
 and destroyers of the universe ! 
 
 As yet there was little dust, and though things were 
 distinctly visible among the late afternoon shadows, Sam 
 saw them as if they stood out in the glare of the sun, or 
 as if they were illuminated by a light within them. The 
 rocks and trees beyond the moving expanse seemed to be 
 climbing uphill ; there were queer, dizzying effects in 
 everything, as if the world were drunk and reeling. 
 
 Nothing irregular or irruptive disturbed the movement 
 of the downpouring mass, no tossing of cross-currents, no 
 upbreaking against obstructions, no heaving where oppos 
 ing forces met ; but a steady downrush, smooth and rapid. 
 
55 
 
 like water pouring over a dam. Its smooth obedience to 
 gravity must have seemed beautiful to Him who created 
 force and gave it its power to upbuild or destroy. Noth 
 ing could heighten its speed but the energy which had set 
 it in motion ; nothing could stop it but the same energy 
 opposed in the solid earth on its own level. But with all 
 its leaden compliance with the power which inspired it, 
 it possessed the most resistless fury of all the fury of 
 inert things when they once get under way. 
 
 " She ain t in the wust o it," thought Sam, still rush 
 ing upward. " She must a, been most acrosst." And, 
 indeed, Anny had nearly passed the dangerous tract when 
 it began to move. She had been caught in the hither 
 edge, and the cataract of loosened soil was bearing her 
 downward not rapidly, but with an uncertain, half-rotary 
 movement, as a straw is whirled along the margin of a 
 brook. The movement was at once confusing and terri 
 fying ; and though slow, it was too strong to permit the 
 three steps crosswise which would have led her to safety. 
 That the swiftest current was beyond her was evident 
 from the fact that she was still standing, though she re 
 mained upright with difficulty. 
 
 "They s a chance fer *er," thought Sam, "if the slide 
 makes a curve so s to fling er out on the solid ground. 
 But even then the shock might kill *er." 
 
 Seeing that she would probably be carried below the 
 point he was aiming at, he now shaped his course so as to 
 come up with her lower down. The dust was billowing 
 up the mountain-side as before a strong wind, but as yet 
 the cloud had not reached them, and he could see her 
 struggling to retain her foothold and remaining upright 
 on the whirling ground as by a miracle. At the point 
 towards which he was running there was a sort of eddy in 
 the downstreaming mass, close by a group of mingled 
 rocks and pines. He reached the spot just as she was a 
 few feet above him. " If she passes me Fll fling myself 
 
56 
 
 in arter er, n we ll both go down together/ 7 was his 
 desperate thought. 
 
 Suddenly she caught sight of him. If she had called 
 out before, the noise had drowned her voice, but now she 
 flung out her arms towards him and uttered a cry. He 
 heard it ringing out as if above the ruins of the world. 
 Then a swirling eddy seized her. She tottered, struggled, 
 and with her eyes still upon him and her arms extended, 
 she fell, and he could distinguish nothing more ; for the 
 cloud of dust at this moment reached them a breaking 
 surge of neither earth nor air, but both, which blinded 
 and suffocated and destroyed. 
 
 Had the broken soil near the rocks poured over and en 
 gulfed her buried her alive ? "Would he not even be able 
 to guess where she had fallen ? If he could but find 
 some trace of her the hem of her garment, the flutter of 
 a lock of hair, he might dig her out with his hands and 
 restore her yet. He leaped up the few steps remaining 
 between him and the spot where she had disappeared, 
 while the adobe flood went pouring smoothly, thunder 
 ously past, until he heard it strike the valley with a crash 
 as if two planets had come together in full career. 
 
 Close to the group of rocks Sam found her, lying face 
 upward upon the ground, her arms flung out as if they 
 had been wrenched by violent hands. She had fallen in 
 the direction of the rocks, and the edge of the torrent had 
 dragged her feet downward while a sort of side-ripple had 
 buried her to her waist. Her face was uncovered, and he 
 noticed, in spite of the dust, how white she looked against 
 the moist gray of the upturned ground. She lay quite 
 motionless ; her eyes were half open in the glassy, unsee 
 ing stare of the dead. 
 
 The dog, which had been in advance of her, had come 
 back, and now began to sniff about her clothing. Sam 
 drove him off with a thrill of horror ; there was some 
 thing in the animal s approach that was like an assurance 
 
57 
 
 of death. He lifted and dragged the body back among 
 the pines ; the dirt fell away from her clothes in dusty 
 flakes. Her weight was nothing to his strength, but he 
 felt it with the dread of one who is alert to one particular 
 kind of fear. Under the pines he bent over her, placing 
 his ear to her heart. He could hear nothing but the 
 blood in his own temples pulsating stormily. He straight 
 ened himself, flinging back his head and suppressing a cry 
 in the effort to be calm. He bent again and laid his hand 
 upon her heart, but it Avas quite still. He listened again, 
 and the blood in his temples seemed to listen too ; but 
 there was no sound, no movement. She lay so horribly 
 helpless that it seemed a proof of the worst. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen came panting up the hill. He did not see 
 her till her face burst through the cloud which still sur 
 rounded them and thrust itself close to his. Even then 
 he did not see her wholly, only the convulsed, peering face 
 in a yellow blur which hid her body. It was like a meet 
 ing of lost souls in the nether world. 
 
 " She s dead/ was his answer to the question her hor 
 rified silence asked of him. 
 
CHAPTER YII 
 
 PHCEBE ELLEN S wide eyes passed from Sam s face to 
 her sister s. She was gasping, and it took some time for 
 her to stop enough breath in her throat to make an audi 
 ble sound. 
 
 " I don t b lieve it !" she finally managed to say. But 
 her voice cracked in the effort of speech, and she had to 
 struggle anew before she could go on. " It s only a faintin - 
 fit. Lemme see." 
 
 She knelt down by the body on the opposite side from 
 Sam and unloosed Anny s dress. Then she bent over, 
 laying her ear close to the heart. 
 
 "It don t beat," she whispered, after a moment of 
 strained listening. 
 
 "No," he answered, in a dull voice. 
 
 "Is she dead?" Phoebe Ellen s tone was piteous. She 
 had settled back and was clasping both arms around her 
 knee, while she awaited his answer. But no answer 
 came. He turned away in silence. Was he crying ? She 
 could not tell. 
 
 Then they found themselves staring at each other 
 across the body, helpless before the fact they could not fully 
 realize. And Phoebe Ellen began to rock herself to and 
 fro in a dreary, rhythmic way, quite meaningless, except 
 as it gave color to this indefinite horror. She did not 
 weep, she did not cry out. It was too soon for that, and 
 probably it was not her way. But presently, as she swayed 
 back and forth, she began to speak, at first brokenly, then 
 with a dreary monotony of utterance whose very incon 
 gruity seemed to voice the doom of death. 
 
59 
 
 " How queer, how queer t she should be dead ! Plow 
 queer t she should be layin ere with er head on my 
 lap V er eyes wide open n keep so still when I try to 
 wake er up ! Why, I ve seen folks t might a-died n I d 
 never a-thort o it a second time I ve heerd o sech, V 
 Beared like it was the reg lar thing. But her why, she 
 was that full o life ye seen er, don t ye member how 
 pink er cheeks was, n how er eyes was allus shinin ? 
 Ye seen er, ye know how she looked. It seems so horrid 
 queer. Wot did she git out o the waggin fer, anyway ? 
 Oh, them posies on the hill-side it was Dan s grave she 
 was thinkin of. JSP now we ll have to bury er up there 
 Alongside o im, n make the stone-pile big nough fer 
 two. W she d looked forrard so joyful to livin out ere 
 on the Eio Grande. She d took a notion to the very name 
 I ve heerd er say how it sounded like music. N to die 
 jes s she gits ere " 
 
 Sam had been facing her with folded arms. She saw 
 him dash his big fist across his eyes. "Where s God to 
 let sech things go on ?" he cried out. There was more in 
 his words than rebellion against Heaven ; it was the cry 
 of a personal loss, the wail of a hope which had perished 
 at its birth. Phoebe Ellen did not try to understand the 
 agony which his voice expressed ; she was too busy with 
 her own grief to notice whether the grief of another was 
 greater or less. She had loved Anny in her own hard, 
 masterful way, and her sorrow was genuine. 
 
 *" She mus be kerried down," she finally said. 
 
 te lierried down!" He repeated the words with the 
 emphasis of torment. But he added, in a lower tone, 
 " Yes, kerried down." 
 
 "Kin we manage it you n me ?" she asked. 
 
 " Why ain t Leatherhead ere ?" he demanded, in return. 
 "He could help." 
 
 "She mus be got down somehow," declared Phoebe 
 Ellen. "I kin kerry er feet." 
 
60 
 
 Sam lifted the prostrate form, resting the limp head 
 against his shoulder. The staring eyes were close to his 
 face ; the tangled hair swept his shoulder. " Pore little 
 gal !" he kept repeating under his breath. Her left arm 
 dangled helplessly. " Lay it over er breast/ he said to 
 Phoebe Ellen, who obeyed. It seemed to him the dan 
 gling movement might hurt her as they descended the hill. 
 
 Half-way down they met Leatherhead puffing up-grade 
 to meet them. He had a round, futile face with high 
 cheek-bones and little eyes like buttons that showed the 
 white all around the iris. His ordinary look was one of 
 useless questioning of helpless surprise, which neither 
 grew nor diminished, neither asked satisfaction nor found 
 it. But now fright put a momentary meaning into his 
 face. 
 
 " Tripe I" he began. " She s hurt. Oh, say, is she 
 hurt ? D the landslide run over er ? She looks bad. 
 Don t she look bad ? Wot if she s croaked ? Ye don t 
 reckon she has croaked ? She looks like she had. Oh, 
 Lord ! wot if she has ? That ud be a go I" 
 
 "She s dead," declared Phoebe Ellen, and Sam nodded 
 in confirmation. 
 
 Leatherhead drew down the corners of his mouth far 
 into his chin. 
 
 " Oh, tripe !" he began again. That was his inevitable 
 word for joy or sorrow, hope or dread. "Oh, my size ! 
 Dead ? No ! Who d a-b lieved it ? W all to wunst like 
 that ! Great my !" 
 
 These exclamatory futilities overcame Sam with a rush 
 of anger. It was an offence to listen to them. Leather 
 head made a movement to assist him with his burden, but 
 a glare warned him back. 
 
 "I ll tend to er," said Sam, fiercely. It was as if he 
 were declaring her his in spite of death. And he bore 
 the body alone, Phoebe Ellen struggling along at his side 
 and awkwardly trying to support the dangling feet. 
 
61 
 
 Leatherhead and the dog brought np the rear of the 
 little procession, one about as intelligently sympathetic as 
 the other. Leatherhead began an exclamatory remon 
 strance and explanation. 
 
 " Oh, well, tripe ! Wot s the use o gittin mad ? Wot s 
 the use o tromplin all over a feller s collar n dislocatin 
 his frame jes cause ye want to kerry a dead gal down the 
 mountain-side all by yerself ? / don t want to tech er ! 
 Well, I don t keer go it yer own way ; wot s the odds ? 
 I ain t done nothin , V I don t mean to. There I was 
 tripe ! ye seen me yerself to the door, a-wavin n a- wag- 
 gin ; I d been lookin fer a good hour afore ye showed up, 
 n then there ye was ! So I run back to see to supper 
 say, them trout I ketched a-purpose ? I d jes got em 
 rolled in flour, V was puttin em onto the griddle when 
 tripe ! there went the lan slide ! I knowed in a minute 
 wot twas. I run to the winder full tilt, but I couldn t 
 see things clear. Only the mountain was a-stirrin it was 
 a-stirrin , I could see that. But say, in a minute I seen 
 the hosses flyin down the road ? My shape ! the way that 
 buckboard struck the barn ! But the trunk was in, 11 
 nothin wa n t busted t I could see. Well/ says I to 
 myself, hell s allus up to suthin in Collyrado ! But 
 twouldn. t a-made no differ if the hull outfit d been 
 smashed. I wouldn t a-seen it. I fergot the trout 
 they re burnin up this minute. Tripe ! Dead ! But 
 which one is she ? The one t owns the ranch ?" 
 
 Sam shook his head. Leatherhead s drivelling had 
 grated on him at first, but now he was strangely passive. 
 
 " No," he answered. " It s the other Phoebe Ellen." 
 
 " Oh, well, if the heiress s left " Leatherhead began 
 once more. But no one was listening. Phoebe Ellen had 
 opened her mouth to assert her individuality once for all 
 it seemed so stupid that Anny should be mistaken for 
 her but she felt sick and faint, and the idea of expla 
 nation was distasteful. "By- n -by," she said to herself. 
 
62 
 
 She could not talk just now. Anny was dead she could 
 think of nothing but that. 
 
 She took no notice of the buildings as she approached, 
 nor of the room into which her sister was carried. 
 Leatherhead was standing about on one leg his ineffect 
 ual face with its feeble, surprised eyes seemed staring 
 from every corner and Sam commanded him to bring 
 some hot water and brandy. 
 
 " AVe mus try to bring er to," Sam said, with some 
 thing of his old decision. " It may be only a long faint. 
 I ve knowed cases where they was brought to their senses 
 arter hours." 
 
 Leatherhead looked offended. 
 
 (( Ye said she was dead !" was his wide-eyed expostulation. 
 
 " Git wot I tell ye !" was Sam s savage answer. 
 
 And Leatherhead disappeared, gazing back with his 
 look of futile questioning. 
 
 The body was laid upon a bed near a window. A 
 dull light came into the room a twilight which seemed 
 funereal in its sombre grayness. Leatherhead toddled in 
 and out with inadequate bustle, casting wild glances of 
 inquiry at nothing in particular, and bursting into inco 
 herent ejaculations without notice and subsiding without 
 cause. And presently, through a sort of sick blur, Phoebe 
 Ellen saw Sam with a bottle and spoon trying to force 
 some liquid between Army s teeth. 
 
 " Wot is it ?" she asked, vaguely. " Wot s happened 
 now ? Ain t she dead ?" 
 
 But he was too busy to answer. He went on trying to 
 pry the set jaws apart, spilling the brandy so that it ran 
 down the girl s chin and into the neck of her dress, but 
 persisting to the uttermost, as was his wont. It was 
 ghastly to hear the spoon rattle against her teeth. Phcebe 
 Ellen rose with a suppressed shriek. 
 
 " Wot be ye givin er ?" she cried, clutching his arm. 
 " Let er be. She s dead. Wot s the use ?" 
 
He looked at her in angry surprise, but his eyes became 
 pitiful as he saw how distraught she was. 
 
 " We mus try to do suthin ," he answered, mildly. 
 
 She shook her head drearily. 
 
 " Wot s the use ?" she repeated. 
 
 "We ll be better satisfied in our minds arterwards," 
 he said, in reply. 
 
 He poured some brandy into a tea-cup and handed it to 
 her. 
 
 " Drink it," he commanded. "It II rouse ye up. I 
 want ye to take off er shoes n stockings, V put er feet 
 into hot water. Then ye kin help by rubbin er wrists n 
 temples." 
 
 The strong drink revived her, and the world came back 
 with a rush. 
 
 "Yes, yes," she cried, "we mus do suthin we mus 
 keep on tryin ." She was obeying Sam s commands with 
 eager haste, and already Anny s feet were in the steaming 
 water which Leatherhead had brought. The effort to do 
 something brought her confidence and hope. <e Mebbe 
 it s only a bad faint. Lord ! if we could bring er round 
 gimme some brandy in the cup, quick ! I kin rub ! 
 If it s only a matter o workin over er, we ll fetch 
 er to." 
 
 They worked like mad, but without result. Sam man 
 aged to get some brandy between the clinched teeth, but 
 it was not swallowed. 
 
 " Queer," muttered Phoebe Ellen. " She don t git cold. 
 D ye notice that ?" 
 
 Sam s eyes lighted up with new hope. 
 
 " It s true !" he cried, almost jubilantly. " She s s 
 warm s when we brung er in." He lifted one of the limp 
 hands. There was no sign of vitality in it, but it was 
 warm and flexible. 
 
 "Rub harder !" he cried, excitedly. "If she was dead 
 it ud show in er fingers by this ! Harder, harder !" And 
 
64 
 
 he poured in more brandy, while Phoebe Ellen fell to work 
 with renewed energy. 
 
 Presently she paused and laid her ear for the hundredth 
 time over the patient s heart. Her cheek touched the soft 
 white flesh, so that she could make sure of detecting any 
 disturbance within. 
 
 "Does it beat ?" asked Sam, pausing anxiously. 
 
 " ~No, but she s so warm. Ain t she warmer n wot she 
 was ? She can t be dead. But if she ain t, why don t er 
 heart go ?" 
 
 "Try it ag in," said Sam. 
 
 She listened once more, Sam bending forward, eager 
 and expectant. All at once she lifted a startled face. 
 
 "Wot is it ?" he asked, breathlessly. 
 
 "Id know but peared like " 
 
 " Like ye heerd it beat ?" He took up the word 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I m shore I heerd it jes one little faint flutter." 
 Her face was drawn in tense lines, and she was listening 
 again while Sam sat in strained silence, as if his own 
 breathing might interfere with what she was listening 
 for. 
 
 " I heerd it !" Phoebe Ellen finally whispered. Her 
 words were half lost in an excited sibilance which sounded 
 hard and dry. " I m shore I heerd it. Oh, sis, sis !" She 
 pressed her ear closer to Anny s heart. " There ag in ! 
 Faint so faint. But she ain t dead she ain t dead! 
 Now it s goin quicker now it s all quiet ag in. Work 
 work ! We ll bring er back yit, I tell ye !" 
 
 And they worked as if their own lives depended on the 
 result. The amount of brandy Sam Tinker poured into 
 his patient would have turned a practising physician s 
 eyes to saucers ; but his methods, heroic though they 
 were, finally met their reward in a renewal of the life 
 which they might easily have extinguished. There was 
 perceptible a distinct relaxation in the muscles of the 
 
65 
 
 jaws, and after Phoebe Ellen had several times reported a 
 distinct revival of the pulsations of the heart and a speedy 
 subsidence in the inactivity, Sam declared with joy that 
 the patient had tried to swallow. Arid the next teaspoon- 
 ful really was swallowed, and the next, and the next. 
 The heart-beats became distinct and firm, the half-open 
 eyes closed as if in slumber, and the breath at last came 
 strong and regular. 
 
 " Thank God!" said Sam, standing off and looking 
 down at the patient with shining eyes. 
 
 And Amen I" responded Phoebe Ellen, devoutly. 
 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 JUST here Leatherhead burst into the room. 
 
 " I been tryin to git suthin out o the supper t burnt 
 up, but well, I don t keer fer myself, but when it comes 
 to the rest o ye Tripe ! is she comin to ?" 
 
 " She s comin to," assented Sam, with satisfaction. 
 
 Leatherhead widened his little eyes till the whites look 
 ed as if they were painted. 
 
 " My size ! She ll want suthin to eat, too, won t she ? 
 I made shore she was dead. I swear, I feel like I was no 
 good in life. Well, she ll jest nachelly have to put up 
 with wot she kin ketch, I ll tell er that right now !" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen s face relaxed. On the whole, she liked 
 Leatherhead. He looked manageable, annexable. Be 
 sides, he was genuinely solicitous for her welfare and 
 Anny s. 
 
 " Never mind," she said, kindly. "We ll have some 
 bran-new trout to-morrer they s plenty in the stream. 
 A cup o tea s all sis 11 want, V the way I feel now I 
 don t reckon I could take much more." 
 
 "I kin give ye cold b iled ham." 
 
 " Ham s good," said Phcebe Ellen. 
 
 " N I might warm over some green pease t was left 
 from dinner." * 
 
 " Ye needn t mind. I ain t hungry. Bring in the tea 
 I don t feel like I wanted nothin more n the ham, if 
 ye got it handy." 
 
 Leatherhead sighed with satisfaction. 
 
 " Ham ? Tea ? That s soon doctored. Some wimmin 
 ud be howlin fer ice-cream n oyster soup n cowcum er 
 
67 
 
 pickles. But she !" And with this implied compliment 
 for Phoebe Ellen he left the room. 
 
 I m afeerd I got orfle upset/" Phoebe Ellen remarked. 
 " They was fer a while I didn t know whether I was on 
 my head or my feet wot with the landslide V the bosses 
 V sis a-keelin over. TwaVt business-like. I m "shamed 
 o it." 
 
 " I was upset, too/ said Sam, in a low voice, with his 
 eyes on Anny. " But I ain t shamed o it." 
 
 " Queer she don t open er eyes/ 7 said Phoebe Ellen, her 
 glance following his. 
 
 " Pears like twas time, don t it ?" was his rejoinder. 
 
 " Give er nother nip o brandy, hadn t ye better ?" 
 
 Sam complied, but this time the patient rebelled ; not 
 consciously, but by a reflex tightening of the lips which 
 showed that the body knew what was best for it, even if 
 the mind did not. 
 
 " She breathes perfeckly reg lar," said Sam. 
 
 " Perfeckly," assented Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " But they s suthin horrid in the way she don t sense 
 nothin ." 
 
 " Give er time give er time. I wonder if she broke 
 any bones. Have ye looked at er head ? I hain t." 
 
 Sam made a rapid examination. The girl s hair lay in 
 a tangled mass along the pillow. He parted it here and 
 there, touching it gently as if it were a sentient thing ; 
 and finally on the right side of the head he discovered a 
 bruise and a slight gash. 
 
 " See !" he said, parting the hair flat against the scalp 
 that Phoebe Ellen might have a better look at the injured 
 spot. 
 
 " That must have cold bandages on it," she declared. 
 
 "Sometimes them things is deeper n they look I ve 
 heerd o a thump like that bein ser ous. Is they any way 
 o tellin ?" 
 
 " Not t I know of." 
 
68 
 
 "I ve heerd o the brain bein stopped by a sudden jar, 
 like it was a clock,, V not startin up ag in, either, till 
 arter it had been doctored. If it should be anything like 
 that" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen got up on her feet. 
 
 " Cold water won t do no hurt, nohow," she declared, 
 with energy. "Where s some rags ?" 
 
 "Til fetch some," said Sam. 
 
 f "W some water in a basin. A ole sheet 11 be jes the 
 thing," she called after him as he reached the door. 
 "Don t spile nothin new by tearin into it !" 
 
 While he was gone Leatherhead came in with her 
 supper. 
 
 " Tripe !" was his greeting. " Say, it looks purty thin, 
 don t it tea V cold ham V bread- n -butter ? Sam s 
 allus cusin me o not havin a lick o sense, n fore 
 George ! I m beginnin to b lieve im. Why didn t I tend 
 to my bizness n look arter the supper stiddier flyin up 
 there to stop a lan slide a hour arter it had struck bottom ? 
 But them trout one o em I d been fishin fer down there 
 to a pool all summer. 7 N to have im scorched to cinders 
 like that, right along o the others, like he wa n t no better 
 n they was say, that s reel riz bread, though none o 
 yer sallyratus, cowboy truck I made it myself ! Sam says 
 I beat anything at bread-makin . But he says I d make 
 a blame fool o myself trailin aroun on the range with 
 the cattle. But oh ! that s wot I d like the best to be a 
 cowboy, with a lariat n chaps n a gun." 
 
 " N yer head smashed by a buckin bronco," finished 
 Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " That s wot Sam says," confessed Leatherhead, becom 
 ing pensive. 
 
 " I ll eat the supper by- n -by," said Phoebe Ellen. " Set 
 it down on the stand by the winder. Wot time is it ?" 
 
 "Eight o clock." 
 
 " Good Ian ! eight o clock ! I reckon t mus be, though 
 
69 
 
 I hadn t noticed how dark twas gittin . Fetch a light, 
 will ye ? I ll drink the tea. It 11 do me good. I hope 
 it s hot." 
 
 " Nothin but a light, then ?" 
 
 " D ye use candles ?" 
 
 "Mos ly, though we ve got one lamp. But the ile s 
 out." 
 
 " Fetch a lot o candles, then. I may have to set up all 
 night." 
 
 " Well, tripe! say, now, see ere, that minds me ! how 
 is she ? My shape ! She s better, ain t she ?" 
 
 " Yes, but she don t sense nothin yit." 
 
 " Great beeswax ! She don t sense nothin yit ? Say, 
 she ll git s bad s wot I be if she keeps on ! Sam says I 
 don t never sense nothin . But I kin make bread can t 
 I, now ? Well, say tripe ! But ain t it kinder funny 
 she don t come to ? She s had time." 
 
 " It may be funny, but that don t make it none the less 
 ser ous. She got jammed up agin a rock V her head s 
 bad." 
 
 Leatherhead was subject to unaccountable moods of 
 doubt. One of them assailed him now. 
 
 " Oh, say !" was its way of expressing itself. " Her head 
 bad? Say!" 
 
 She nodded. He popped his eyes at her, and, as if that 
 were not sufficient, thrust his long neck in her direction, 
 too. " Looks like his soul was leavin his body V startin 
 fer me," thought Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " My shape !" he murmured. " Her head s bad !" And 
 with a series of surprised ejaculations he left the room. 
 
 Sam came in, and together he and Phoebe Ellen pre 
 pared and placed the bandages. He was very quick and 
 skilful, considering how big his hands were. 
 
 " He kin do anything t a man orter know how to do," 
 she thought, with admiration. Once or twice his hand 
 touched hers and gave her a sharp, penetrating thrill. 
 
70 
 
 " That s a funny feeling" she thought, with surprise. e I 
 never felt nothin like it afore. How queer it ud be if I 
 was to take one o his hands in mine V hold it I" But she 
 did not attempt that. What if he should draw it away in 
 anger ? What if he should laugh at her ? <e He s nicer n 
 I thort he was, anyway/ she concluded, still watching 
 Sam at his task. Then, with a thrill of joyous anticipa 
 tion, " N I m to live ere in the same house with im 
 and see im every day \" 
 
 The patient would take no more brandy, but Sam and 
 Phoebe Ellen rubbed her wrists and temples and applied 
 all the other means of restoration that lay in their pow 
 er. She reclined among her pillows with her eyes light 
 ly closed, motionless except for the regular, stertorous 
 breathing, and an occasional nervous flutter in the throat. 
 
 After a long time Sam spoke. 
 
 " I don t like the way she acts," he declared, anxiously. 
 She breathes all right, she looks all right, but they s 
 suthin wrong. She s hurt way inside. She orter open 
 er eyes. I never knowed o a faintin fit t lasted like 
 this." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen looked from him to the patient and back 
 again. 
 
 " Suthin is wrong," she admitted. " I never seen 
 nothin like it, neither. Tears like she was dead, but 
 kep on breathin . They s suthin horrid bout it." 
 
 "If it s struck to er brain V par lyzed it" He 
 stopped suddenly, controlling some strong emotion. 
 Then with an effort, " I ve heerd o sech, though I ain t 
 never seen a case. If that s the trouble, she orter have a 
 doctor." 
 
 " A doctor ! Is they sech a thing in the ken try ?" 
 
 "They s a Boston man down to Halstead s that s four 
 mile b low. He s queer Halstead says he s crazy, but I 
 say he s s sound in his upper story s I be, though he s 
 got wild ways. He s a reg lar doctor, though he had to 
 
71 
 
 give up his practice "count o consumption. He s purty 
 young, but he s powerful smart. We might git him." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen considered. 
 
 " Mebbe she d be better if her clo es was took off, V she 
 was put to bed decent V comf table. S pose we try that 
 fust. If that don t do, we ll see bout the doctor. N 
 I ll keep the bandages goin ." 
 
 Sam left the room, and Phoebe Ellen undressed her 
 sister and got her into bed. But there was no marked 
 change. A little more color grew into the unconscious 
 face, and a more natural look about the mouth and eyes. 
 But the lids did not unclose, and there was no sign of re 
 turning consciousness. Still the same regular, mechan 
 ical breathing, as if the functions of life had been given 
 over to a machine while the mind slept. 
 
 " It s the queerest thing," muttered Phoebe Ellen, hov 
 ering about the bed. 
 
 "Any signs fer the better?" inquired Sam, entering 
 and approaching. But he immediately answered his own 
 question. " She s got more color, her face don t look so 
 drawn. The color s a good sign s long s they ain t too 
 much o it." Pie lifted one limp hand and laid his fingers 
 on the pulse. " No fever. Pulse reg lar. Not too fast 
 nor two slow. Queer ! I never seen the like. N she 
 ain t showed no signs o coming to ?" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen shook her head. 
 
 " She s kep jes so. I ve changed the bandages every 
 two-three minutes. They don t git no warmer n s if 
 they d been on my own head or yourn. I don t onder- 
 stan it. Pears like I d ruther have bad signs t I knowed 
 how to deal with." 
 
 " They can t be no great danger s long s the fever don t 
 set in. Kin I look at the bruise wunst more ?" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen removed the bandage and he examined 
 the wound with critical intentness. 
 
 " The cut ain t nothin ," he declared. " She ll git over 
 
72 
 
 that in a few days. The trouble s deeper. The only thing 
 I kin think of is t mebbe the skull s cracked if s press- 
 in on the brain. I ain t no doctor but I d know wot 
 else to make o it." 
 
 " That orter be ser ous," said Phcebe Ellen, after a mo 
 ment s thought. 
 
 "Mighty ser ous, if I m right/ assented Sam. 
 
 " W we orter have the doctor right off ?" 
 
 " I should say so." 
 
 " Leatherhead could go fer im ?" 
 
 " Yes ; or I could, either." 
 
 " Ye ve had yer supper ?" 
 
 " All I want." 
 
 " Wot time is it ?" 
 
 " Bout leven." 
 
 " So late ? Hadn t we better wait V see wot happens 
 by mornin ?" 
 
 Sam went gravely into his own thoughts for reasons pro 
 and con. 
 
 "Fer her sake, no," he finally decided. "She orter 
 be looked arter right off if it s s bad s I m beginnin to 
 think. These things ortn t to wait." 
 
 He had evidently not finished, and she did not inter 
 rupt him during a second meditative pause. 
 
 " But the doctor," he went on. " I was thinkin o him. 
 He s a sick man, V he goes to bed reg lar at half-past 
 eight. If I was to rout im out this time o night, I don t 
 b lieve he d come I don t b lieve he could. N I don t 
 b lieve he could do nothin if he did. It ud break im all 
 up his nerves is bad. Prob ly he d have to go to bed 
 afore he could tend to er, anyhow." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " I can t see wot harm ud come to her from a few hours 
 waitin , considerin the state she s in. They don t seem 
 to be nothin larmin bout er. She breathes like she 
 was asleep. If the fever comes up it 11 be time to be 
 
73 
 
 skcerd. We kin watch er keerful durin the night, V 
 Til ride over to Halstead s fust oft in the mornhr. Hadn t 
 ye better go V lay down yerself ? Ye look wore out. I 
 kin ten 7 to 7 er." 
 
 " We ll look arter er together," said Phoebe Ellen. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 SAM brought some pillows from the bed in the next 
 room and made Phoebe Ellen comfortable in the hard old 
 wooden rocking-chair where she had been sitting. Then 
 he wrapped her up in a blanket and told her to go to 
 sleep. 
 
 "Til look arter the little un," he said, assuringly. 
 
 "W if she gits wuss ?" 
 
 "I ll wake ye, shore." 
 
 She watched him dreamily till her eyes began to close. 
 
 "He s a nice feller when I ain t tryin to boss ^im," 
 was her last hazy thought. "A fust-rate feller! I ll 
 never try to put my thumb on top o im agin." 
 
 And with that she fell asleep. 
 
 She awakened at intervals, and always found him at 
 his post. Sometimes she asked a question or two, but 
 mostly she looked vaguely about, saw that all was well, 
 and silently closed her eyes once more. 
 
 So the night wore on. She was more weary than she 
 knew, and often she awakened with a feverish start, gasp 
 ing a little till she realized the strange room, the pros 
 trate figure on the bed, and Sam Tinker cooling the 
 bandages in the tin basin and replacing them with a deft 
 ness which seemed impossible to his big hands. 
 
 "Any change ?" she once asked, after it had fully come 
 over her where she was. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "No fever?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Still breathin regular ?" 
 
 o 
 
75 
 
 "Like a clock." 
 
 " N er color s good ?" 
 
 "Jes the same." 
 
 "Ain t ye gittin tired ?" 
 
 "Me?" The settled solicitude which his long vigil 
 had stamped upon his big kind face gave place to a slow 
 smile which was a sufficient answer. 
 
 " Hadn t ye better nap a bit V let me watch ?" 
 
 " No ; take yer rest. Ye ll need all yer strength fer to- 
 morrer." 
 
 She was still agitated by a vague desire for his com 
 fort. 
 
 " Why don t ye smoke ?" she asked. " It ud rest 
 
 ye." 
 
 "No ; we mus keep the air pure fer her." 
 " But ye could take a nip o brandy now n then " 
 " I ve been a-doin that/ said Sam, his smile dawning 
 once more as he pointed to a bottle and tumbler on the 
 stand. 
 
 She would not have believed they could be so kind to 
 each other or, rather, she would not have believed that 
 they could ever have been unkind to each other. That 
 she should offer to relieve him at his vigil and that he 
 should decline on the ground that she needed rest gave 
 her a good, contented feeling such as she had hardly 
 known since childhood. Didn t she hate him, after all ? 
 Or was she too sleepy to know ? Or had the hate been 
 only a dream ? Or was it only a dream that she was 
 learning to think of him as gentle and kind ? Perhaps 
 he, too, was sorry for what had happened during the day 
 and was trying to make up. She was willing to make 
 U p na y ? eager ; she wanted to be good friends. Or 
 perhaps it was his interest in Anny that made him so 
 kind ? No matter. At least, he was good to her now, 
 and in the future there would be time enough for dis 
 agreeable contingencies. It was well to sleep and leave 
 
76 
 
 everything in such strong, competent hands. Poor 
 Anny ! What an entrance upon the inheritance brother 
 Dan had left her ! What if she were to die, after all ? 
 "She s fit to die she d go to heaven/ 5 Phoebe Ellen 
 thought. Heaven yes ; but there was the ranch. If 
 Anny were to die the ranch would pass into the hands of 
 the next of kin, of course. " N I m the next o kin," 
 reflected Phoebe Ellen. Well, wot then ? Would Sam 
 Tinker care any more about her if she owned the place ? 
 Hardly. He had taken to Anny from the minute he saw 
 her. Phoebe Ellen did not mind that much just now 
 she was too sleepy. "I wish t he liked me best/ she 
 thought; "but it s his own bizness." But if Anny 
 were to die and then, as she dozed off, she remembered 
 that he still believed she was Anny. "Then he still 
 thinks I own the ranch," was her last definite thought. 
 " No ; he wouldn t think no more o me if I reely owned 
 it. Shall I tell im the truth ? I m so sleepy I m 
 shore he d think I was talkin in my sleep. They ll be 
 time nongh in the mornin ." And she fell asleep and 
 dreamed that she had been wandering a weary way though 
 breakneck paths in the mountains, carrying something 
 heavy ; and all at once she discovered that it was the 
 ranch Dan had left to Anny, and that she herself was 
 Anny, or people thought so ; but she did not explain, 
 and went wandering on, determined to cling to her 
 burden even if the weight of it killed her. " That was 
 a funny dream," she woke up long enough to think. 
 And after that she fell asleep without inquiring how 
 Anny was, though she plainly saw Sam replacing the 
 bandages, and wondered to herself whether there was any 
 change for better or worse. 
 
 At five o clock she was awakened by some unusual 
 noise in the room. She opened her eyes with the im 
 pression that some one had been calling, "Anny ! Miss 
 Anny !" 
 
77 
 
 "Was ye callin her?" she asked, in a breathless way, 
 staring up at Sam, who was bending over her. 
 
 He smiled faintly. 
 
 "I was callin you," he answered. 
 
 Oh !" she murmured, drawing a long breath. Things 
 sound so queer when a body s jest wakin up." She flung 
 aside her blanket, but still did not rise. " How is she ?" 
 
 " No change." He shook his head dubiously. 
 
 "Queer," she muttered. Then glancing around, " Is it 
 mornin ?" 
 
 " Yes. W I reckon I better be makin fer the doctor. 
 He ll have to ride slow." 
 
 " The doctor ? Oh, I member." She rubbed her eyes. 
 
 " Ye won t be afeerd to stay with er ?" 
 
 She arose hastily. 
 
 " Afeerd ? No. Wot should I be afeerd of ?" 
 
 Her tone was resentful. Did he imagine she had com 
 mitted a crime against her sister that she should fear to be 
 left alone with her ? Her dream had not come true, even 
 if he still believed her to be Anny. But a sense of guilt 
 was upon her. It was as if the thought had made the 
 deed. 
 
 Sam did not notice the repudiation of fear which she 
 was so deeply conscious of. 
 
 " She looks more n ever like she done afore she got 
 hurt," he went on. " The same pink in er cheeks, n er 
 lips open a little. It s orfle to watch er like that hour 
 arter hour, knowin ye can t wake er up." 
 
 His face looked worn and anxious. She realized that 
 the strain of that night watch must have been considera 
 ble even for his strength, and a sense of gratitude made 
 her prompt to relieve him and ready for duty. 
 
 " Ye orter a-let me help ye," she said. " It was selfish 
 o me to sleep so long." 
 
 " Oh, I didn t mean that," he hastened to answer. " I 
 was glad to do suthin fer the pore little thing." 
 
78 
 
 Even this declaration of his real interest had no effect 
 in rousing her jealousy. At least he had been kind to her 
 in being kind to Army had intended to be so, in fact. 
 She was content for the present with that. "It s bizness 
 to be sat fied with wot ye kin git/ she thought. "Besides, 
 mebbe I kin git more arter a while." 
 
 " Ye re shore ye re wide awake ?" he inquired, examin 
 ing her with his slow smile. 
 
 Her answering look was pleasant and cordial. 
 
 "Yes; though I ain t got quite shook outyit. I reckon 
 ye better git started & soon s ye kin. Where s the wash- 
 dish ? A little cold water on my face n hands 11 soon 
 set me agoin . I ll go out n git ye some breakfast, if 
 ye ll show me which way the cook-stove is. I reckon they s 
 coffee n ham n eggs " 
 
 " I ve had my breakfast Leatherhead got it fer me ; n 
 the hosses is saddled aroun by the verandy, one fer me n 
 one fer the doctor to ride back on. Leatherhead 11 be in 
 afore long to see wot ye want fer breakfast." 
 
 "La! It s like bein a reel lady," remarked Phoebe 
 Ellen. 
 
 "He tole me he was goin down to the river to see if 
 they was a trout or two t was sufferin to be ketched. 
 There ! He s comin back hear irn ?" She listened, and 
 could distinguish a shrill, unreliable voice above the wail 
 ing of the pines, singing "Every day 11 be Sunday by- 
 and-by." "He was orfle cut up bout his supper yistid- 
 dy," Sam added. 
 
 "I m shore he needn t be." Phoebe Ellen was in a 
 kindly mood this morning and full of acknowledgment. 
 "I m obleeged to im, n to you, too, fer takin thort o 
 me." 
 
 Don t mention it," responded Sam, cordially. And 
 with that he was gone. 
 
 She heard him mount his horse from the veranda, but 
 the windows of the bedroom all faced in another direc- 
 
79 
 
 tion and she could not see. But presently she distin 
 guished him galloping away at the foot of the mountains 
 among the pines. The led -horse had evidently been 
 trained to that service, for he galloped neck and neck 
 with Sam s, keeping loose the strap by which the giant 
 held him. 
 
 "Prob ly he trained it/ she thought. "Dan useter 
 write how he broke em in, even the wust o em." She 
 followed rider and horses as far as she could among the 
 shadows. "I wonder wot the doctor 11 be like? N 
 wot 11 he have to say bout sis ?" 
 
 She turned back into the room and approached the bed. 
 Anny lay on her back in precisely the position she had 
 occupied ever since respiration recommenced perfectly 
 passive, without other movement than the regular rise 
 and fall of the chest. The pretty, womanly profile stood 
 out clearly against the pillows, and, though the candle 
 was burning low and the light outside was too feeble to be 
 of much assistance in taking impressions, she could see 
 the long lashes curving back where they seemed to touch 
 the cheek, and two or three little wrinkles about the chin 
 where the head was thrust downward and forward, not 
 quite easily. Phoebe Ellen had often seen her asleep and 
 looking just so when she had awakened early at home in 
 Nebraska and had lain for a few moments idly gazing 
 about before getting up. "She ain t agoin to die," said 
 she to herself. " She s agoin to git well." But beneath 
 the thought lay a horrible hope which had somehow fast 
 ened itself upon her during the night. " Shell git well," 
 she repeated over and over. But it was the same as if she 
 had said, "She ll die I hope she ll die !" 
 
 The face was unchanged ; and what had happened that 
 might have altered it as Phoebe Ellen had half expected ? 
 Nothing, to be sure. The accident was nothing, of course ; 
 she would be entirely recovered in a few days a fortnight 
 at most. Was the change in Phoebe Ellen herself ? Did 
 
she want her sister different, to correspond with a differ 
 ence in her own soul ? She did not stop to think, but 
 kept her eyes riveted upon the pretty, unconscious face. 
 The same flush, as of healthy sleep, the same soft curve 
 of the chin, retreating to the still softer outline of the 
 throat, where the collar of the night-dress hid it ; the 
 , same egg-like roundness of the cheek, the same faint dis- 
 colorations under the eyes, the same little curls, pushing, 
 tendril-like, in front of the small ears and softening the 
 meeting of hair and forehead. Phoebe Ellen remembered 
 them all, yet she went over them in detail, as if she had 
 never seen them before. 
 
 "She s a purty gal," she thought. " N her eyes is 
 purty, too, when they re open. She s got daddy s eyes. 
 Mine s like mother s. They re both dead, daddy n 
 mother. But sis n me s got their eyes." 
 
 She propped her elbow against the headboard, thrust 
 her chin into her hand, and stood gazing down. 
 
 " Dan had daddy s eyes, too," her thoughts ran on. 
 " Dan n Anny was alike that s why he willed the ranch 
 to her n left me out. He allus liked her best, even when 
 we was little uns. He useter give her things, V when I d 
 ast fer some, he d say he wouldn t, cause he didn t like 
 me. He was allus partial, Dan was. He d do anything 
 fer her. But he allus left me out." 
 
 She shifted her position from one foot to the other, but 
 without taking her elbow down or her chin from her 
 hand. 
 
 " My temper s like mother s, too. N she wa ri t s easy 
 s wot dad was, but she had lots o vim n go. I wouldn t 
 change not if I could. Change !" She drew herself up 
 with a mental jerk. "Why should I want to change ? I 
 kin manage sis, n even if she owns everything, she ll do 
 jes wot I tell er. I kin run this ranch jes like I owned 
 it. N so Dan didn t git ahead o me, arter all. Well, 
 that s all right !" 
 
81 
 
 She stood erect, with her eyes still fastened upon her 
 sister. After a strangely intent examination of the placid 
 features, she said, aloud : 
 
 "Yes, she s purty. We look alike everybody says so. 
 But somehow she s purty n I ain t. " 
 
 She removed the bandage, rinsed it out in cold Avater 
 and replaced it. 
 
 "He thort she was purty I could tell by the way he 
 looked at er. W he made shore I was the devil. \Vell, 
 that s all right, too !" 
 
 Her face was not pleasant as she turned away and went 
 to the window. She looked out absently down the valley, 
 then up at the pine-clad foot-hills. The sun was not yet 
 visible except on the eastern heights and along the farther 
 side of the valley. Here and there, too, a transverse bar 
 of light lay flat and shining across the bottoms where a 
 gulch or pass faced the hidden sun ; elsewhere the low 
 lands lay in shadow such cool, green shadows, so rest 
 ful, so chaste, looking as if the dew clung to them, and 
 might be brushed off by a stray breeze or the wing of a 
 passing bird. Some scattered clouds swung mistily about 
 the summits, billowing lightly as the wind touched them, 
 but settling back as if too lazy either to sink or rise. The 
 pines looked black and flat as if the trees themselves 
 had disappeared and their vertical shadows had grown 
 into their place. The only sound was the noise of the 
 river and the faint, harp-like symphony of the pines. 
 
 So fast the sun rose that Phoebe Ellen could almost see 
 the zone of light widen down the eastern slopes. The 
 ground was uneven up there, and as the light appeared the 
 shadows of rocks and trees lay in a black tangle, and to 
 follow them in detail made one half believe that the sun 
 was shining from all directions at once. Phoebe Ellen 
 opened her window and leaned out. The fragrance of 
 mountain-sage with the dew upon it rushed into her face, 
 wholesome and pungent and good to smell. 
 
She drew in a long breath. "It 11 make me hungry," 
 she thought. "I want to be hungry I want to eat well 
 n be strong, so t I kin keep my wits about me. Queer 
 things is goin to happen. I feel it in my bones. I ll 
 need to have my wits about me." 
 
 Two or three cowboys who had evidently slept in one 
 of the barns strolled with yawns and eye-rubbings in the 
 direction of the kitchen. 
 
 " Leatherhead s gittin breakfast fer em," she thought. 
 "It mus be bout ready." And at that moment the 
 cook s voice rose in song : 
 
 " Oh, dig my grave both wide and deep, 
 
 Wide and deep ! 
 Place tombstones at my head and feet, 
 
 Head and feet ! 
 
 And on my breast carve a turtle-dove, 
 To signify I died of love ! " 
 
 "Died o love !" thought Phoebe Ellen, scornfully. 
 Then, suddenly directing her attention outside the window 
 once more : 
 
 "This is a purty place," she mused. "I like it it s 
 a heap better n I m used to. He likes it, too. He 
 wouldn t like me no more n he does, though, if I owned 
 it. No; fer he thort I owned it he thinks so still. 
 Well, he don t keer fer me, V he does fer sis that s how 
 tis. He was nice to me las night n this mornin , though. 
 I have a idee he likes a soft, gentle temper in a gal. Could 
 I ever turn soft V gentle, I wonder ? Wot rot !" She 
 shook herself as if to cast aside the thought. " This ain t 
 bizness !" She drew back into the room, leaving the 
 window open. Her eyes fell upon her sister. "Every 
 thing s come her way," her thoughts ran on. " She s 
 purty, she s rich, he keers fer er. Well, wot s the differ ? 
 I ve got all the brains t was put into the fambly, V I ll 
 know how to use em, too, when the time comes !" 
 
83 
 
 And she went back to the bed and changed the bandages 
 once more. 
 
 Some one knocked. 
 
 " Come in !" she called, and Leatherhead s surprised 
 face appeared at the door. 
 
 "Mornin ," was his greeting. His little round eyes 
 sought the bed anxiously. "I made shore I wouldn t 
 fergit my manners this time, so tripe ! ain t she no 
 better ?" 
 
 " Jes the same," was Phcebe Ellen s answer. 
 
 tf Great my!" he murmured, in feeble surprise. " I reck 
 oned she d be up n all over the ranch this mornin . Wot 
 d ye reckon s struck er ?" 
 
 " Sam s gone fer the doctor. He ll know." 
 
 " Oh yes well, o course ; though I wouldn t let that 
 doctor look arter me agin, I kin tell ye that ! Suthin was 
 wrong with raj stummick two or three weeks ago, n say ! 
 the way his med cine went a-cavortin aroun in there ! 
 well ! I never was s prised so deep down. But, my size ! 
 say, how long ye been up ?" 
 
 " Bout a hour." 
 
 "Well, tripe! if I d V knowed that I d V had yer 
 breakfas fer ye long afore this. A hour I Why didn t 
 ye call me ? A hour ! LI ye have it fetched in ere ? 
 D ye eat wot I fetched to ye las night ?" 
 
 "Ye kin see." Phoebe Ellen swept her hand in the di 
 rection of the demolished lunch. 
 
 " Well, say, now, jes tween you V I, how d ye like the 
 bread ? Sam says I m too big a fool to go out on the 
 range, but he owns up I kin make bread. My ole dad 
 useter say t God sends the vittles n the devil sends the 
 cooks ; but I want to tell ye t God sends "em both on this 
 ranch see ?" 
 
 "I ll be out in a minute," said Phoebe Ellen. " S it 
 ready ?" 
 
 He nodded, bulging his little eyes. "D ye dare to 
 
84 
 
 leave her?" He jerked his thumb in the direction of the 
 bed. 
 
 " Oh no ; I couldn t leave er, o course. I reckoned 
 ve might stay with er yerself. Ye wouldn t have to do 
 nothin but change the bandages wunst or twicet." 
 
 Leatherhead s jaw fell and a slow palor overspread his 
 features. 
 
 " Me ? Tripe ! Change bandages ? Sufferin Moses ! 
 On a gal ? That s where I draw the line ! Bandages on 
 a gal ? Ye ll take yer breakfas ere !" 
 
 And he disappeared behind a slam of the door. 
 
 He was back in a moment, bearing Phoebe Ellen s break 
 fast on a kneading-board for a tray, and after depositing 
 it on the stand by the window he stood off and contem 
 plated her in an agitated way. 
 
 " There ! Tripe ! I ain t mad nor nothin I don t 
 want no spikes to chaw. But lookee ere, I swear to gum I 
 couldn t change them bandages I couldn t, ye know ! If 
 it was a man well, that ud be all right. But a gal! 
 I m willin to do wot I m told, but tripe ! in this country 
 a feller s got to draw the line." 
 
 "Oh, never mind," said Phoebe Ellen, who was in a 
 good-humor and hungry. It was as if a guilty thought 
 had determined her to do at least a superficial kindness. 
 " Well, wot a trout this is, to be shore ! This is suthin 
 like livin . D ye like to cook ? I should think ye would, 
 ye do it s well." Leatherhead still lingered, and she 
 could think of nothing but the breakfast to talk about. 
 
 "Like it ? No. But I reckon it s better n nothin . 
 I d a heap ruther be out on the range with the boys, racin 
 up the foot-hills lickety-split with a buckin bronco under 
 me X a snortin steer to the front. Say, that s life ! But 
 every time I mention it Sam sets down on me with a loud 
 smile all over his face. I don t keer ! The time 11 come 
 yit. N say ! Don t say a word bout it to a livin soul 
 but I ve got a sombrero n a cuert n a lasso all stowed 
 
85 
 
 away in the loft over the kitchen ; n all I lack s some 
 shaps V a gun V won t I s prise the nation ? Oh no ! 
 They ll jes say it s a or nary every-day matter mebbe they 
 will ! But o course I was got fer a cook, V they ve allus 
 done the square by me Dan and Sam both though Sam 
 does sometimes act like he had the hull world by the tail. 
 Well, tripe ! Folks has dif rent ways that s how tis." 
 
 "These ere sody biscuit/ remarked Phoabe Ellen, "is 
 fit fer the Gov nor of Nebrasky ; I ll say that fer em. 
 Ye ll have to show me how ye do it. They re better n / 
 kin make." 
 
 " Tripe ! D ye mean it ? Say ! I ll show ye joyful. 
 It s the way I put the short nin in that s wot tis. When 
 d ye want to try ?" 
 
 "When sis gits better, so t I have time. N then I 
 mean to do the cookin myself. JSP that 11 let ye out on 
 the range." 
 
 Leatherhead really turned pale with joy for a moment. 
 Then his face fell. 
 
 "Oh, say !" he objected. "It s Irish to give a feller 
 the Josh like that !" 
 
 " No Joshm ," declared Phoebe Ellen, opening another 
 biscuit. She could not have told why she wanted to be 
 kind to Leatherhead. Perhaps a sense of inward guilt 
 made her long for outward approval. 
 
 " Tripe !" began the roustabout, flinging his arms and 
 feet about in noisy ecstasy. " Sam says I couldn t ride a 
 saw-hoss, he does ; but say ! when I git my shaps n som 
 brero on, if I don t show ? im ! But it s a sure thing 
 hey ? My shape ! Well, see ere ! If ye let me out on 
 the range " 
 
 "I hear hosses," interrupted Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 Leatherhead listened. 
 
 " So d I, n I bet that ere consumptive doctor 11 feel 
 faint arter poundin the saddle with that skeleton o his n 
 all the way from Halstead s. Say, I can t stay n look on 
 
8G 
 
 while lie xamines er ! But ye ll keep yer word bout the 
 cookin jes the same, won t ye ? I hate to see a doctor 
 pawin over a patient ; n a gal, too that s where ye have 
 me queer. But twon t make no dif rence with the cook- 
 in , hey ?" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen assured him that his presence at the ex 
 amination was unnecessary. 
 
 " Mebbe the doctor ud like a cup o coffee," she sug 
 gested. 
 
 " Tripe ! That s so," was Leatherhead s way of assent 
 ing. And he banged out of the room. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 PHCEBE ELLEN* waited at the window, looking away ab 
 sently at the pines. They stood stiffly out against the un 
 even slope of the mountain, and caught sharp gray high 
 lights along the upper side of their branches where the 
 needles reached up in prickly irregularity. Here and 
 there gorgeous vetches shook out their barbarous colors 
 in the sunshine and the yucca lifted its slender pyramid 
 of waxen bells. The river wound away in the distance, 
 sending a silvery flash from among its willows. The fa 
 miliar sounds about the barns came as if from a distance ; 
 the roosters might have been crowing from the mountain- 
 tops ; the lowing of a heifer might have come from be 
 yond the horizon. 
 
 "It s beautiful," she thought, her eyes following the 
 river and the foot-hills. Then, after a moment, " But it 
 belongs to her." 
 
 She tapped her foot impatiently on the bare floor. 
 
 " course HI run it she never could. But it 11 Vlong 
 to er." 
 
 She turned to the bed with an unconscious scowl. 
 
 "Everything b longs to er. Why does the idee haunt 
 me so ?" 
 
 She took a turn up and down the room. 
 
 " Even lie belongs to er. That s plain nough to be 
 seen. The way he looks at er, the way he hangs over er, 
 the way he touches her hair when he changes the band 
 ages it ain t a thing t kin be mistook. N I well, if 
 they was to marry, where d I be ? I wouldn t even be 
 lowed to run the ranch. It ud be handed over to him." 
 
88 
 
 She approached the bed, and gazed down at its occu 
 pant. 
 
 " If she was to die " 
 
 She steadied herself against the head -board, and gazed 
 deliberately. 
 
 " If she was to die" 
 
 She had uttered the words aloud, and found herself 
 clapping her hands to her mouth and staring about with 
 guilty fear. But no one was visible no one had heard. 
 Then her thoughts began to justify themselves in a frantic 
 mental protest. 
 
 "They ain t no sin in the idee o er dyin . I made 
 shore yistiddy t she was dead so d everybody. Tain t 
 no sin to think o er bein dead. N it ud be better fer 
 me if she was dead it would, it would ! Fve got a right 
 to think o that. Fer then the ranch ud be mine the 
 ranch n everything on it the cattle n crops 11 the 
 management. Nothin could alter that. Whether Sam 
 Tinker got so he keered fer me or not, nothin could alter 
 that." 
 
 She clasped her hands at arm s-length, then wrenched 
 them apart. 
 
 " If we hadn t fussed over er so long if she d V died 
 if I d V let er die stiddier workin over er like I done, V 
 urgin Sam to work, too I d be the owner o the Thomp 
 son ranch this mornin , stiddier stan in ere with the pros- 
 peck o playin second fiddle all my days !" 
 
 Her features tightened and paled, her lips flattened 
 against her teeth in unconscious expression of a wicked 
 longing. 
 
 Then a dreadful possibility came into her mind. "I 
 could kill her," she thought. But she thrust the idea 
 back so quickly that it almost seemed as if it never had 
 occurred to her. 
 
 " I won t I won t think o it !" her soul cried out in 
 terror. "I don t want nothin on earth bad nough to 
 
89 
 
 pay that price fer it ! I d sooner have nothin all the days 
 o my life n do sech a thing !" 
 
 She went back to the window, and stood there pressing 
 her cheek against the casing. 
 
 "Rut it could be done." The thought finished itself 
 as inevitably as she finished her breath after drawing it 
 in. " 1ST nobody d ever know." 
 
 She wrenched herself back into her ordinary course of 
 thought as one wrenches himself awake from a night 
 mare. 
 
 It takes that doctor a long time to finish a cup o cof 
 fee." She uttered the words aloud, the more effectu 
 ally to divert her mind from its horrid vagaries. " But 
 mebbe he took a biscuit, too. N a trout. I wonder if 
 Leatherhead ketched more n one trout. Mine was pow 
 erful good I hope if the doctor s got one it s s good s 
 wot mine was." 
 
 She busied herself feverishly with irrelevant details of 
 her imagination lest she should look guilty when Sam and 
 the stranger came in. 
 
 " I reckon he s a thin man. I wonder why I reckon 
 he s thin. Oh yes, I member he s a consumptive, n 
 consumptives is allus thin. Like s not he s got sharp 
 eyes. I hate little sharp eyes t pry into everything. 
 He ll jes look at sis, though he won t take no notice o 
 me. Why should he ? I ain t done nothin to be cused 
 of. She s his patient he ain t got nothin to do with me. 
 But if Sam was to interduce me as the heiress, he d look 
 at me then, shore ; n I couldn t splain it here it ud 
 look like I d been deceivin , N I hain t." The assur 
 ance was genuine, and she seized upon, it with an eager 
 ness which was almost fierce. "I hain t tried to cheat 
 nobody bout who I be. Somehow they got it wrong from 
 the start Pinky, n Sam, V all o em n I hain t had no 
 chance to set it right. That ain t my fault. But I 
 couldn t splain afore the doctor. 1ST wot ud Sam think if 
 
90 
 
 I kep still V splained afterwards ? Oh, I reckon I could 
 git out o it somehow. I might say I hadn t noticed but 
 that ud be rather thin. Or the truth why wouldn t the 
 truth do better ? It ud sound more sensible." She stif 
 fened herself, pushing away from the wall. " If she was 
 to die" 
 
 Still that dreadful, recurring thought ! 
 
 " If she was to die, twouldn t make no differ, one way 
 or the other. It ud let me out o splainin entirely, fer I 
 could pass off fer her, V nobody ud know. Ud I dare to 
 do it ? Dare ! Where s the danger ? Everybody ere 
 thinks I m my sister, n who s to tell em dif rent ? Pinky 
 thinks so, V Sam, V all o em. N I hain t no brother 
 nor sister to show up V expose me. N nobody from 
 Nebrasky 11 ever git s fur from home s this. It ud save 
 a heap o ? lawin jes to call myself Annie, too." Phoebe 
 Ellen had the superstitious dread of an ignorant woman 
 for the law. " Fm the next o kin, anyway. It ud only 
 be steppin into my own afore the lawyers said I might. 
 W it ud save expenses. The lawyers ud take the hull 
 thing, like s not, if I waited fer my rights to come through 
 them they would if they could. ISP mebbe the law in 
 this State s queer. Mebbe Cousin Susan ud come in fer a 
 share, V Uncle Parker. If sis was to die " 
 
 She flung up her hands with a movement either of re 
 sentment towards her sister or horror towards herself. 
 
 " If she was to die, that ud settle the hull bizness fer- 
 ever !" 
 
 She started guiltily as steps were heard on the uncar- 
 peted floor of the next room. 
 
 ( They re comin !" she whispered to herself. " If she 
 was to die natural, it ud be better." She caught a glimpse 
 of her face in a little square mirror on the wall, and it was 
 with difficulty that she kept from crying out. Her cheeks 
 were flushed, her eyes were gleaming. Her features were 
 drawn in hard, wicked lines. " Good God !" she thought, 
 
91 
 
 with horror. "Be I a-murderin my own sister in my 
 mind ? AVot/s come over me all to wunst ? Is it the 
 devil ?" She deliberately faced the image in the glass. 
 " The doctor 11 know whether she s goin to live or die," 
 she concluded, the lines in her face hardening still more. 
 
 She turned away in haste and began to work about the 
 bed, arranging the covering feverishly and beating the 
 pillows into softness about the helpless head. The door 
 opened and Sam came in. She faced him, flushed with 
 her guilty thoughts. 
 
 "He don t notice," she pondered, thankfully. 
 
 His eyes had sought the bed with unconcealed anxiety. 
 
 " How is she ?" he asked. And she answered, in a voice 
 more steady than his : 
 
 "No change. Everything jes the same." 
 
 In the doorway beyond Sam appeared a man of not 
 more than twenty - eight, thin, of medium height, with 
 heavy, straight black hair parted near the middle of his 
 forehead and forming a sort of thatch about the temples. 
 His nose was long and slightly hooked ; one could not 
 help noticing the thin, sensitive nostrils, which expanded 
 with every inhalation as if the lungs worked with diffi 
 culty. There was a pronounced stoop in the shoulders, 
 and the chest looked sunken and inadequate. His appear 
 ance was that of a hopeless invalid, every nerve of whose 
 body was on the strain, and might be set quivering at a 
 word or look. 
 
 " This ere s Dr. Sedgwick," said Sam. " Dr. Sedg- 
 wick, this is Miss Thompson." Sam moved his big hands 
 awkwardly, as if to point them out to each other. He was 
 never at ease in any sort of formality. 
 
 The flush died out of Phoebe Ellen s face, and she made 
 her bow in due form. Miss Thompson might mean either 
 herself or Anny ; so nothing of a compromising nature 
 had transpired as yet. 
 
 " Fm turble anxious bout my sister," she began, more 
 
volubly than was necessary. She found herself pulling at 
 the corner of her apron, and dropped it hastily. This 
 doctor had the most remarkable eyes ! "I reckon Sam s 
 told ye all bout er," she went on. " The accident, I 
 mean." Why did he look at her so closely ? She folded 
 her arms at her wrists, and held them close lest her in 
 ward trembling should become visible. When she spoke 
 again her voice sounded steady enough to her own ears, 
 but it was pitched high. " She s been jes like this ever 
 sence we got er breath agoin . N sech a time s we had 
 we made shore she was dead. W when she begun to 
 swoller the brandy oh, but wasn t we thankful ? But 
 this to stay like this s long, it seems powerful queer !" 
 
 The doctor passed his eyes rapidly over the patient, laid 
 his hand on her temple such a thin, helpless, stealthy 
 hand ! then felt her pulse. 
 
 " You won t mind my sitting down, I hope ?" he in 
 quired, looking back at Phoebe Ellen. " I m short of 
 breath, and not at all strong." 
 
 Sam hastened to bring a chair, and placed it at the head 
 of the bed. The doctor seated himself without removing 
 his eyes from Phoebe Ellen s face, and still retaining the 
 hand of the patient in his. 
 
 " It is a sad home-coming for you, Miss Thompson," 
 he said, in a voice whose huskiness seemed to originate in 
 the lungs. 
 
 " I was dretful scared," Phoebe Ellen managed to say. 
 
 " Such an accident at such a time was particularly try 
 ing," he went on, between short, audible breaths. " And 
 not to be able to do anything you must have felt it 
 keenly." The words were simple enough rather inane, 
 in fact but his eyes charged them with a mysterious 
 meaning. 
 
 " We done the best we knowed how," Phoebe Ellen ar 
 ticulated. She was clutching her wrists with both hands 
 till the nails ached. 
 
93 
 
 "I can understand the extent of your suffering/ he 
 
 said. Did he speak ironically ? She felt the flush come 
 back and burn hotly in her cheeks and brows. 
 
 " It s a dretful home-coming as ye say/ she stammered,, 
 unable to meet his eyes and lowering her own to his shirt- 
 front. " What shall I do what shall I do ?" she began 
 to repeat to herself, hysterically. 
 
 " She has always been well ?" continued the doctor, 
 holding Anny s wrist. The words were commonplace 
 enough, but the look and tone which accompanied them 
 seemed to take cognizance of all the wickedness her 
 thoughts had revealed to her that morning. 
 
 " Yes/ she answered. Why didn t Sam say something 
 to help her ? Or didn t he notice ? 
 
 " Never ill in her life ?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 She felt her orbits narrowing before his as before a 
 growing flame. She had never seen such eyes before or 
 was it that her own conscience exaggerated everything ? 
 Conscience ! She had never before experienced anything 
 like this. Besides, she had not done anything. She 
 had thought wrong things, but what of that ? One can t 
 always be master of his thoughts. She had done nothing 
 out of the way. The deed which she could not think 
 of as but an echo of the thought had not yet been com 
 mitted and never would be. 
 
 The doctor, still riveting his eyes upon her as if he 
 were reading the hidden characters of her soul, passed 
 his hand lightly up the patient s arm. The movement 
 reminded her of the soft, tentative efforts of a cat to pick 
 its way among wet grasses. She watched, fascinated, 
 still unable to brave him by a direct look. The slim, 
 stealthy hand reached Anny s shoulder ; then the sensitive 
 fingers moved up the neck, past the ear, touching the hair 
 lightly on the way till they reached the bandage, and, as 
 if guided by a vision of their own, began rapidly to undo 
 
94 
 
 the cloth. There was something horrible in it all Phoebe 
 Ellen could have screamed. 
 
 "ShaVt I help ye ?" she managed to gasp. "It ain t 
 fixed on-tight !" 
 
 " Don t trouble yourself," he answered, with a singular 
 smile. " I can find my way." 
 
 Would he succeed in reading that dreadful thought 
 which had come into her head this morning ? She could 
 feel a luminous shaft from his eyes slanting across the 
 darkened recesses of her brain, and revealing what ? 
 "He ll find it he ll find it I" she thought, with horror. 
 " Oh, what shall I do ?" 
 
 His presence was becoming unbearable. She had sunk 
 into a chair, but now she rose to her feet, pale as a ghost. 
 He did not seem to notice anything unusual in her face 
 or manner. 
 
 "You are the owner of one of the richest ranches in 
 the State, Miss Thompson," he said. The husky, insin 
 uating tones made the simple statement an accusation. 
 She propped herself against the wall, half turning away, 
 and feeling faint and sick from very helplessness. Sam 
 had told him that she was the heiress, then ; or, worse 
 still, had he read the truth in the depths of her soul and 
 was he trying to torture her ? She opened her mouth to 
 assert her true individuality once for all, but before she 
 could utter a word the dreadful voice went on : 
 
 " One of the richest and loveliest ranches in Colorado. 
 You are to be congratulated ! If I were to have my choice 
 among all the cattle ranges I have seen in the State, I 
 should certainly give this the preference." 
 
 By this time his bloodless fingers had found the injured 
 spot on Anny s head, and he was manipulating it gently, 
 with his eyes still riveted to Phoebe Ellen s. 
 
 "Is they any inflammation ?" Sam inquired. 
 
 The inquiry came as a godsend to Phoebe Ellen. In 
 another moment she would have cried out and confessed 
 
95 
 
 everything. But at the sound of Sam s voice the doctor 
 shifted his gaze to the patient, and she had a moment in 
 which to recover. 
 
 " No," was his answer, delivered after a pause, during 
 which his eyes and fingers were working in unison. 
 
 " I made shore they wa n t," said Sam, with a breath of 
 relief, "or Fd a been arter ye las night." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen felt her strength returning. If he had 
 found her out, at least there was to be no exposure at 
 present. The tension of her mind being thus sud 
 denly relaxed, she was left gasping. She felt as if 
 she must go away out of that man s sight, if only for a 
 moment. The strain of utter helplessness made her 
 weak and tremulous. She could never fully recover in 
 his presence. 
 
 "If ye don t need me, I reckon I better go out fer a 
 little," she said. I I feel sorter faint. N I feel like 
 I couldn t stan it to see the lamination go on. If ye 
 need me, I ll come back." 
 
 And she fled from the room as if followed by missiles. 
 That man ! Was he the Evil One ? 
 
 " Somehow he s the master o me," she thought, closing 
 the door harshly and hanging to the knob as if she ex 
 pected to feel him wrenching it from her grasp on the 
 other side. " Does he know ? He can t know !" 
 
 "She s nervous," she heard Sam saying in explanation 
 to the doctor. " I made shore she wa n t the kind to git 
 so knocked out. She don t look it." 
 
 "No ?" the doctor s thin voice questioned, vaguely. 
 
 " Ye orter a seen er las night. She stood up to it like 
 a barn door, she did. Nothin fazed er. She looked like 
 she was ekal to anything." 
 
 "She seems to me to be keyed rather high," remarked 
 the doctor. " You never can tell what these high-strung 
 women will do when brought to the pinch." 
 
 The words seemed to carry with them a knowledge of 
 
her guilty plans and hopes. Did he know that she was 
 listening, and did he intend that she should hear ? 
 
 " He ll git the truth out o me yit, if he hain t already," 
 was her last agonized thought as she turned from the 
 door. " W then he ll tell it to Sam V everybody !" 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 SHE sped noiselessly across the room and out upon the 
 veranda. The wind refreshed her, blowing in aromatic 
 gusts from the piny heights all about. She opened her 
 mouth the better to inhale it ; she turned her face tow 
 ards it, to feel its touch more definitely cool on cheek and 
 forehead. She shivered as a thrill of reviving strength 
 passed through her an ecstatic shiver, which somehow 
 assured her of herself. Half a dozen chipmunks were vis 
 ible, some peering out from their hiding-places with shy, 
 wild eyes, others staring with a saucy challenge of her 
 right to pass. One chattered a shrill protest as she moved 
 in his direction, but scurried off under the shadow of his 
 violently agitated tail as she gave no sign of heeding his 
 objection ; another leaped headlong down a group of 
 rocks as if to show her the superiority of squirrel athletics 
 over those of men ; another stood immobile on his hind- 
 legs, with his forefeet crossed devoutly, and his queer, 
 bright face half bowed. Phoebe Ellen went down the 
 veranda steps and the animals scattered in all directions, 
 but paused at a little distance to peer out at her from 
 their hiding-places among the rocks and question her in 
 tentions with sharp, impotent barkings. She went up the 
 hill a little way, over a carpet of pine-needles, which felt 
 soft and elastic, and yielded a pleasant perfume of its own 
 under her tread. The soft gray of the mountain-sage was 
 all dewy ; can you imagine what a mist would be like, 
 stuck thick with pendent diamonds ? That would pass 
 for mountain-sage with the dew on it, but would seem a 
 feeble substitute to one who is acquainted with the real 
 
thing. Where the pines were sparse and the sun fell 
 warm, purple penstemons brightened the slope ; and the 
 Mariposa lily which God must love especially, it is so 
 beautiful looked as if it had been dropped from above 
 instead of having pushed its way up through the hard, 
 dry soil. 
 
 Usually Phoebe Ellen noticed little of these things, but 
 this morning it was inevitable that something of the peace 
 and beauty of the world should steal into her heart by 
 contrast with her recent agitation, and bring it in a meas 
 ure into harmony with the tender stoicism of her sur 
 roundings. It was as if the flowers and trees said, " The 
 world is beautiful ; there is no place for ugliness in the 
 good, bright world." The birds uttered optimistic noises ; 
 the water seemed to take nothing into account but the 
 joy of its own movement and music. She did not under 
 stand it, but she grew calm ; and to natures like hers a 
 return of calmness means a return of self-assurance. 
 
 " Wot a fool I was !" she thought. "I- wonder wot got 
 a hold o me, anyhow ? Was I afeerd o im ? Bah ! I 
 could face the devil if I had bizness with im I ve allus 
 prided myself o 7 that ; V to throw up the sponge at sight 
 o a little consumptive doctor from Boston ! It was queer, 
 though, the way he looked at me. But, la ! the way I 
 took it wa n t bizness-like nohow. They ain t nothin in 
 life but bizness wot s the use o makin out he was tryin 
 to read wot was goin on inside o me ? It was his way 
 o findin out wot was the matter o sis he was tendin to 
 his bizness a heap-sight better n I was. But I ll show 
 im when I go back t I kin tend to bizness, too. I was 
 nervous think o me bein nervous ! But he didn t 
 s pect nothin . How could he ? I ve heerd o folks bein 
 hypnoozed, but I don t take no stock in it they ain t no 
 sech thing ; but if he s try in it on well, I ll show im ! 
 N if he did read wot I was thinkin of, how could he 
 prove it ? Oh, Lord, yes, I was wrong to think o the 
 
dreadful thing I did killin yer own sister ain t good 
 sense it ain t bizness-like, fer ye re likely to git ketched 
 at it; but that s over." She shuddered slightly. "I ll 
 never go back to that, Fll never think o it agin. I must 
 V been crazy to cal late on that way o gittin the ranch 
 into my han s. But if they was some other way if she 
 was to die a nat ral death, n I don t see why she shouldn t, 
 bein how she hangs on so thout eatin or drinkin or comin 
 to erself then the hull bizness ud be mine, n no harm 
 done to nobody V lots o good to myself. N wot ud be 
 the differ if I d let em keep right on callin me Anny ? 
 None, fer I m the next o kin ; n I know she ain t made 
 no will, so I orter have the proputty ; but the law s a queer, 
 unjust thing, n it might cut the ranch into little bits V 
 hunt up relations all over God s country n Kansas be 
 sides, jes to have some un to give my land to. No ; if 
 she dies I ll hold my tongue that s my line. N the 
 doctor don t know I don t b lieve in mind-readin V sech. 
 I was nervous, that s all ; V I feel strong nough to face 
 im now. But if he brings Anny to her senses " 
 
 She considered a moment, then shut her lips tight. 
 
 "I ll jes have to plead t I was too shook up to notice 
 t they was mistakin me fer her. They can t prove t I m 
 lyin nohow, though they may s pect me. " 
 
 She started slowly back to the house. In the kitchen 
 Leatherhead was singing in a high, flat voice, which spread 
 strangely in the air and reached her ear like an echo gone 
 
 crazy : 
 
 " Oh, my darling, oh, my darling, 
 
 Oh, my darling Clementine ! 
 
 Thou art lost and gone forever, 
 
 Dreffle sony, Clementine !" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen listened with a sense of strength com 
 pletely restored. The words and music were atrocious, 
 but the state of mind which prompted the singer was 
 healthy and human. And that was what she needed. 
 
100 
 
 Ever since awakening this morning she had felt weak, 
 flaccid of will, altogether unlike herself, and had been 
 wandering about in an atmosphere of superstitious dread 
 which stifled her, but from which she could not get away. 
 She needed to have it impressed upon her that the world 
 was going on in its old course, that folly was rampant the 
 same as hitherto, and that the dreadful thought of murder 
 which had come into her head, together with the possi 
 bility of mind -reading on the part of the doctor, were 
 nightmares from which it was possible fully to awake. 
 There was exhilaration in the assurance that these dream- 
 fancies were not realities, and that there was still healthy 
 absurdity in the world. 
 
 She ascended the veranda with a firm step, carrying her 
 head well up. There was self-assertion in the swing of 
 her shoulders and in the force with which she brought 
 her feet down. She had never felt her will-power more 
 vigorously active, more able to assert and maintain her 
 large sense of personal claims. She did not pause to 
 listen at Anny s door before knocking, as she would cer 
 tainly have done had she still been in the state of feeble 
 volition in which she had left the house. She knocked at 
 once and stood with her hand on the knob, ready to enter 
 without flush of cheek or droop of eyelid on receiving the 
 signal that they were ready for her. 
 
 " Come," Sam s voice called out, and she entered with 
 head erect and eyes wide open on the group which pre 
 sented itself by the bed. She liked the sound of her 
 heels beating the uncarpeted floor with a sharp, incisive 
 rhythm, like the audible voice of her newly aroused will. 
 She liked the sense of dilation in her nostrils, through 
 which the breath flowed steadily to her lungs, filling them 
 as with an assurance that her voice would not fail her 
 when she had occasion to speak. 
 
 The doctor had finished his examination. The band 
 ages had been restored to their proper place and deftly 
 
101 
 
 fastened with a pin which took the dull glitter of a half- 
 light in the semi-dusk of the room. He was sitting where 
 she had left him, but turned sidewise in an attitude of idle 
 ease, his right elhow propped against the back of his chair 
 and his cheek in his palm. 
 
 He lifted his eyes and fixed them upon her with that 
 deliberate intentness which had so shaken her at their 
 first meeting. But there was a stronger confidence in his 
 glance than before the fatal certainty of diving further 
 into her thoughts and bringing up handfuls of mud from 
 the very bottom in proof of his exploit. She recognized 
 his self-assurance in a flash, and for an instant the same 
 thrill of fear passed through her the same sense of help 
 lessness as before something supernatural, the same dis 
 position to wring her hands and cry out, " What shall I 
 do ?" while she let him have his way. She felt as if 
 she were about to be searched, probed, turned inside- 
 out for his inspection; but even in this state of momen 
 tary yielding she felt her will rising as it were in the 
 distance with a strong, voluminous rush which seemed 
 to carry a roar with it. It touched her, lifted her, bore 
 her out of his reach, swung her in exultant freedom, 
 poised, triumphant, mistress of herself. She wanted to 
 laugh out, but even here her self-control was manifest, 
 for she restrained the impulse and gave him stare for 
 stare. 
 
 "Well ?" she asked, in a tone of cool inquiry. 
 
 A shade of perplexity came into his face, and his glance 
 became less penetrating, stopping at her eyes. 
 
 " Your walk has done you good," he remarked. 
 
 His look seemed trying to feel its way once more into 
 her mind; but whereas he had at first found her weak and 
 unprepared, she now knew her danger and was on her 
 guard. Her will rose like a stone wall between him and 
 what she had to conceal. She felt it with a triumphant 
 scorn which still wanted to manifest itself in a laugh. 
 
102 
 
 But again she suppressed the inclination and stood look 
 ing clown at him with masterful gravity. 
 
 " I ain t been sick," she answered. She felt an irre 
 sistible joy in the evenness of her tones. " Wot have ye 
 made out bout my sister ?" 
 
 He shifted his position slightly. 
 
 " You were pale pale when you left the room," he de 
 clared. " You looked as if you, too, were about to be ill. 
 But now" 
 
 " I feel ekal to anything now," she retorted, still grave 
 ly defiant. " Wot bout my sister ?" 
 
 He leaned forward, fetching his thin hands together be 
 tween his knees and wringing the fingers hard. 
 
 "Equal to anything?" he faltered. 
 
 " To anything," she repeated, grimly. " To the devil 
 hisself. Wot bout my sister ?" 
 
 Ah !" said Dr. Sedgwick, removing his eyes from her 
 face, and again she wanted to laugh. What a fool she had 
 been to fear him earlier in the morning ! 
 
 Sam was looking at her. (i Why won t he tell me bout 
 my sister ?" she asked him. " D you know ? Tell me 
 wot he thinks." 
 
 But Sam turned away. 
 
 "He ll do it," he answered. "I can t." She saw that 
 he was wiping his eyes on the back of his huge hand. 
 
 " Wot s the matter ?" she demanded, sharply. Was 
 Anny dead ? No. She could see the steady rise and fall 
 of the chest, the flutter of the breath in the white throat. 
 
 "Wot s the matter?" she repeated, turning to the doc 
 tor. " Is is she goin to die ?" 
 
 "I haven t made out much," he answered, without look 
 ing at her. " Her brain has been injured, but it is im 
 possible to say how seriously." 
 
 " She ll live, though ?" 
 
 The question came with bated breath, but even in her 
 suspense Phoebe Ellen was sufficiently mistress of her- 
 
103 
 
 self to interpret her anxiety from the doctor s point of 
 view. 
 
 " I see no reason why she shouldn t live to be an old 
 woman." 
 
 Her long-drawn breath not a breath of relief brought 
 the doctor s eyes back to hers. But she was completely 
 on her guard and met them boldly. 
 
 " Then wot s the mystery ? Wot s the matter with 
 Sam ? Why d ye go beatin roun the bush like they was 
 suthin to be kep from me ?" 
 
 " Nothing is to be kept from you. There can be no 
 doubt that your sister s skull is fractured and that a con 
 siderable tract of brain is pressed upon by the injured 
 bone." 
 
 " That s wot Sam made shore of," commented Phoebe 
 Ellen, jerking her head in the cowboy s direction. 
 
 The doctor nodded gravely. 
 
 "W that s all ye made out ?" Phoebe Ellen s restored 
 self-confidence was manifesting itself in a slight lifting of 
 her chin. 
 
 "All," he answered. 
 
 " W you a doctor !" Her thin lips curled. " I ll go to 
 Sam fust, nex time." 
 
 Certainly she was paying him out for the agitation he 
 had caused her at their first meeting. She enjoyed the 
 look of baffled scrutiny which he darted upon her and 
 the tone of deprecation in which he began : 
 
 " These cases are all extremely obscure, and their re 
 sults highly problematic. In the present instance " 
 
 She interrupted him sharply : 
 
 " Wot be ye goin to do ? Let er lay there V die ?" 
 
 He was evidently nettled, and his eyes wandered over 
 her face without fastening themselves upon any particular 
 feature. 
 
 "There s nothing to be done " 
 
 " N ye can t give er nothin to bring er to ?" 
 
104 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 " Bah !" She turned away with a fling of her shoulder 
 in his direction. " I wouldn t let ye doctor a sick cat fer 
 me ! Wot be ye a doctor fer, anyhow ?" 
 
 A flush of irritation settled on his high cheek-bones. 
 
 "Nature must take her course/ he said, in a hoarse, 
 tremulous voice. "Everything has been done that is 
 possible. Keep up the bandages " 
 
 " That s wot Sam advised," she remarked. 
 
 "Use plenty of cold water " 
 
 " Any fool could tell that ! Keep up the bandages, use 
 plenty o cold water, V let er lay there till er breath 
 
 stops i" 
 
 After she had finished the fear crossed her mind that 
 he might turn to her and ask, " Is that what you want 
 that her breath should stop ?" But the flush under his 
 eyes increased and his voice became more deprecative as 
 he said : 
 
 " She won t die I can assure you of that. She will 
 wake up by-and-by " 
 
 "By- n -by?" 
 
 " In a day or two " 
 
 " Good Lord I" 
 
 " Maybe longer." 
 
 " But but she ll starve !" 
 
 "No, she ll eat, though she ll not be conscious of it 
 any more than she is at this moment conscious of breath 
 ing. Leatherhead is preparing some beef-tea for her now. 
 And you are to bathe her twice a day in brandy." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen s breath came hard between her teeth. 
 
 "Then she ll come to herself" 
 
 " I didn t say that." 
 
 " How ! Ye said she d wake up, didn t ye ?" 
 
 " Yes. But that is a very different thing." 
 
 She had closed her mouth tight now, and her nostrils 
 swelled as the breath rushed through. 
 
105 
 
 " I don t understand/ 7 she said, fixing her eyes on his 
 as if to dare him to say his worst. 
 
 The doctor paused an instant before he explained. 
 
 " Your sister will probably never be in her right mind 
 again." 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 PHCEBE ELLEN" sank into a chair as if felled by a blow. 
 Since the accident she had measured many probabilities, 
 outlined many catastrophes, imagined many complications, 
 but never anything like this. She had based her schemes 
 on the assurance that Anny would die, or, if she got well, 
 could be hoodwinked into the belief that no exchange of 
 identities had been intended ; but that there might be a 
 mean between the extremes of dying and getting well 
 that the girl might live, but remain an idiot the rest of 
 her life was as remote from Phoebe Ellen s calculations as 
 the question of her own possible insanity ; and the reve 
 lation left her, as it Avere, among the ruins of her plans. 
 All the logic of her wickedness seemed to go for naught, 
 and for a moment it seemed as if she had been discovered, 
 as if she would have to explain. The arithmetic of con 
 tingencies was difficult for her at all times, and now she 
 could not think what this new emergency might mean to 
 her future. With all her plottings she was at bottom 
 strangely simple and sincere one of those natures whose 
 depths are like little pools over which a current from the 
 shallows flows and affords hardly more opportunity for 
 concealment than the shallows themselves. 
 
 "I I don t think I onderstanV she faltered, in a trem 
 ulous voice. " Ye said " 
 
 The dreadful, mesmeric eyes wavered and shifted in her 
 direction ; they fixed themselves upon her consciousness 
 and burned in. Imagine two flames with a will and pur 
 pose of their own, eager to take advantage of one s weak 
 ness, greedy for insight ! 
 
107 
 
 " I said that your sister would probably never be in her 
 right mind again," he repeated, distinctly. 
 
 " Great God !" was her involuntary ejaculation. 
 
 The cry was not so much one of horror for her sister s 
 calamity as of personal dread for this man, who was de 
 termined to wrest her secret from her by the aid of the 
 devil himself if need were. She closed her eyes against 
 his with the instinct of a hunted thing for conceal 
 ment. 
 
 But she felt that she must say something, and like one 
 in a dream she made the effort. 
 
 "Not in her right mind ?" The question had a dazed 
 sound, and she still kept her lids closed. 
 
 Only for a moment. Then again the weird power of 
 the doctor s eyes came like a threat across her conscious 
 ness a power like prying and thrusting and digging in 
 forbidden places. The secretive corners of Phoebe Ellen s 
 mind were always open to inspection except when her will, 
 with a tremendous effort, drew a veil over her thoughts 
 and held it close at all four corners in hysterical dread of 
 revealing what was stowed away behind it. Now she felt 
 his eyes, like search-lights, exploring the very recesses of 
 her soul. At present they sent only random flashes here 
 and there tentative, bright circles falling upon thoughts 
 which it mattered little if she revealed, and resting there 
 only long enough to determine that they were not what 
 he wanted to find. But the horrid illumination was draw 
 ing nearer and nearer to the guilty hopes which she had 
 packed away in her thoughts since yesterday, and which 
 it would be death to have his gaze touch even in outline. 
 Nearer and nearer ; she felt it with a helplessness which 
 might have manifested itself in a shriek ; in a moment it 
 would lay all her guilty secret bare. Then with a nervous 
 shiver which made her feel as if cold iron had touched 
 her, she remembered that Sam was in the room, that pos 
 sibly he could help her. She roused herself with a night- 
 
108 
 
 mare effort, half unclosing her eyes and wrenching them 
 in his direction. 
 
 Sam Sam I" she articulated, in a suffocating voice. 
 
 In an instant the cowboy was at her side. 
 
 "Why, ye re sick," he said, taking both her hands in 
 his. 
 
 The touch revived her. 
 
 " Don t leave me I" she pleaded, hysterically. 
 
 " No," he assured her. 
 
 She caught her breath and laughed brokenly. 
 
 "Wot a fool I be !" she managed to say. " But I ll be 
 better in a minute." She clutched his hands more tight 
 ly. " He tole ye that afore I come in ?" she asked, as if 
 requiring his evidence before being convinced of what the 
 doctor had said. 
 
 " Bout bout how she ll wake up ?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Yes," said Sam. 
 
 " N yeb lieve im?" 
 
 In the effort of questioning, her strength was coming 
 back. The doctor s eyes were upon her still, crossing her 
 own and blinding her, but their illuminated circle was 
 narrowing, their glare was shrinking to a phosphorescent 
 glow which she would presently be able to face and defy. 
 The thought seemed to mark a sort of ebb-tide in his 
 power, while her own strength rose higher and higher. 
 
 i B lieve im ?" Sam repeated, in a choked voice. " How 
 kin I help it ? He knows." 
 
 "Wot be ye cryin bout?" she asked. Then with a 
 sudden remembrance, " Queer t I couldn t think, wa n t 
 it ? My pore sister ! A fool ? It s silly to talk like that !" 
 
 "He knows," repeated Sam, jerking his head in the 
 doctor s direction. 
 
 By this time she had regained control of her will, so that 
 she was able to calculate the effect of her next speech. 
 
 " The doctors kin guess, but only God A mighty knows," 
 
109 
 
 she said, and her voice had grown stronger. Then she 
 spoke quite naturally. Not in er right mind ? Sis not 
 in er right mind ? Sam, Sam, that s a fearful thing !" 
 
 Sam had to gulp down something before he was able to 
 speak. 
 
 " Pore little gal \" he said, in a voice that stuck in his 
 throat. " Pore, pore little gal !" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen looked the doctor over from head to foot 
 with her old defiance. 
 
 "Know? He know? He don t know nothin . I 
 wouldn t take is word bout a sick cat t b longed to my 
 wust enemy." Her lip curled with scorn even while she 
 began a new set of calculations on the basis of Anny s 
 idiocy. "If she should turn out a shore- nough fool, I 
 might keep the ranch in er name jes like she was dead 
 n nobody d ever know the differ/ she was thinking. 
 
 Then she heard Sam speaking again. His voice was 
 clearer, but he kept his face averted. 
 
 "We ll have to take is word," he said, hollowly, "any 
 ways, till we kin see for ourselves. Wot do we know, 
 eitljer ? We don t even know t we don t know. N the 
 little gal God kelp er, I say so there !" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen said nothing for a long moment, during 
 which she was preparing to face the doctor once more. 
 She could not measure him except when she was staring 
 straight at him, and she dreaded that he might beat down 
 her eyes with the complete self-confidence of his own. 
 Out of his direct range of vision she was not altogether 
 mistress of herself, but in spite of her fear she was con 
 scious of a potential mastery in her rising will which 
 would crush him utterly. Then with a sudden sideward 
 sweep of her thin shoulders, as full of self-assertion as her 
 highest ambition could have pictured, she faced him with 
 wide-eyed defiance, and her voice came from full lungs as 
 she said : 
 
 " Ye mustn t mind wot I say, doctor." Her words were 
 
110 
 
 so widely at variance with her manner that Dr. Sedgwick 
 stared at her helplessly, then dropped his glance to his 
 hands, which he began to twist together in his peculiar 
 nervous way. Phoebe Ellen understood her advantage 
 and went on exultingly : " Fm put out, naturally, V don t 
 jes sense wot Fm doin . But ye can t tell fer shore jes 
 yit how sis 11 turn out ?" 
 
 He looked back at her, and she waited for his answer 
 without flinching, presenting a fixed, dreadless face to his 
 examination. It was strange how slight she felt his 
 mental aggression when she had her wits about her and 
 faced him with her will alert. What a fool she had been, 
 not to be prepared for anything in the way of news about 
 Anny s case ; to be taken off guard and to let her surprise 
 give him an advantage over her which would encourage 
 him to future efforts. She saw that she had baffled him 
 now and that he was conscious of defeat. The assurance 
 gave her a thrill of triumphant joy which was intensified 
 by a growing confidence in her ability to guard against 
 future surprise. This man suspected her of something 
 had read the fact of her guilt, though the vagueness o| its 
 outlines had baffled him and he had been obliged to desist 
 with nothing more detailed than a general assumption. 
 
 " Ye can t tell fer shore, then ?" she repeated. 
 
 " Not till she awakens," was the answer. 
 
 And her retort was ready on her lips : 
 
 "Wot good o tellin us then? We kin see fer our 
 selves !" 
 
 But he hardly seemed to notice. He looked broken and 
 utterly weary, as if he had been tried beyond his strength. 
 lie had a habit of allowing his eyes to wander restlessly 
 from one object to another when they were not dilated in 
 that compelling gaze upon some one whom he expected to 
 feel their power. Now he was examining a knot-hole in 
 the floor, a fly on the window, the grain of the wood in 
 the foot of the bed. 
 
Ill 
 
 " She ll prob ly come to with er mind all gone ?" 
 Phoebe Ellen continued. 
 
 He dragged his eyes wearily back to hers, but they made 
 no attempt at intrusion now. They looked too dull and 
 listless to see what was directly before them. 
 
 " I can t say that/ he answered, in a worn, husky voice. 
 "I only say she will probably never be herself again." 
 
 " But the mount o change ?" 
 
 " I can t tell that." 
 
 She was gazing at him with a good imitation of his 
 former unwinking stare she would have given the world 
 to be able to produce on him the same effect he had pro 
 duced on her in her moment of weakness but under her 
 scrutiny he displayed no more than his ordinary nervous 
 ness. He was never altogether quiet. Sudden jerkings 
 of his shoulders and hands, spasmodic shufflings of his feet 
 and reflpx twitchings of his mouth were a habit, or, rather, 
 a disease with him. 
 
 " Then all we kin do s to wait/ said Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " Yes," was the dull answer. 
 
 She considered rapidly. And even while she felt more 
 than ever convinced of the feasibility of usurping her 
 sister s name and place should the girl wake up without 
 a knowledge of her own identity, her habitual solicitude 
 told her that it would be safer to have a doctor on hand 
 to tell her and Sam what to do. Besides, if she were to 
 ask him to stay, it would show how little she feared him, 
 and above all things she wished him to understand that. 
 Yet if he were to remain in the house he might come 
 upon her in an unguarded moment and wrest her secret 
 from her in spite of herself. But she went on question 
 ing him, and as she did so her mind dwelt in a semi-con 
 scious but perfectly clear way upon the pros and cons of 
 the situation. 
 
 " She might wake up ravin. ?" she inquired. 
 
 His answer came more wearily than before. 
 
112 
 
 "She might." 
 
 " Pore sis I" thought Phoebe Ellen. " They orter be a 
 doctor ere to look arter er." Then aloud, " Is it likely 
 she will ?" 
 
 " I can t say." 
 
 "Is that mostly the way sech cases does ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "They mostly wake up quiet, hey ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Quiet V queer?" 
 
 "Yes," with the faintest shadow of a smile. "Quiet 
 and queer." 
 
 By this time she had decided her semi-conscious argu 
 ment in the affirmative. 
 
 " Udye mind stayin with us till we see which turn er 
 trouble takes ?" she asked. 
 
 " I thought of asking you to let me do that. I shall 
 be interested to see how she comes on. Only " 
 
 He turned his eyes upon her once more, and, weary as 
 they were, she detected the spark which might widen to 
 a search-light again, but she met and quenched it as by 
 water. 
 
 " Only wot ?" she asked, with perfect composure. 
 
 "I didn t know that you would care to have me 
 around." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen smiled. 
 
 " Queer ye should V thort o that," she remarked. 
 
 " Hadn t you thought of it ?" he asked, trying to flash 
 his eyes into hers. 
 
 She laughed lightly. 
 
 "I shall be tickled to death o my own count," she de 
 clared. "Though when I ast ye I was thinkin o my 
 sister." 
 
 The answer was a work of art, and as such Phoebe Ellen 
 admired it almost as much as she did its creator. " I m 
 ahead," she thought, triumphantly, " V I ll stay there. 
 
113 
 
 All I got to do s to keep my five senses bout me. No 
 more jabbin o them eyes aroun in my insides. Fve got 
 the whip-hand n I mean to keep it." 
 
 And aloud she said, " We ll make ye a comf table a wot 
 we kin. They s a room V bed, ain t they, Sam ?" 
 
 "The .best room n bed," said the latter. 
 
 " I ll stay," declared Dr. Sedgwick. 
 
 " We kin send Leatherhead over to Halstead s fer any 
 thing ye want." 
 
 "Thanks. Fll see him about that by-and-by. Just 
 now I feel that I must rest a little." 
 
 At this moment Leatherhead entered with a bowl of 
 something that steamed. 
 
 " Oh, the beef -tea," said Phoebe Ellen. "I d f ergot that." 
 
 "Tripe !" interrupted the cook, rolling his vaguely sur 
 prised glance from one member of the group to another. 
 "Ye don t mean ye re goin to turn that into er while 
 she s sleep !" 
 
 " Wait and see, if you like," said the doctor, with his 
 uncanny smile. 
 
 But Leatherhead thrust the steaming bowl into his 
 hand and made a dash for the door. 
 
 " Tripe ! See a gal loaded up with beef-tea while she s 
 sleep ? See a gal loaded say !" 
 
 And with that he vanished. 
 
 " We are more sensible," said Phoebe Ellen, turning to 
 the doctor with a smile as enigmatic as his own. 
 
 "Oh, we hide our feelings," he interpreted her. 
 
 "That s wot I meant," she retorted, with a flash. 
 
 The doctor drew his chair to the bedside within reach 
 ing distance of the patient s mouth. Sam and Phoebe 
 Ellen drew near. 
 
 "We want to see how it s done," she explained. "It s 
 suthin new, this sort o feedin a person while they re 
 asleep. N mebbe we ll have to do it ourselves. But 
 ain t ye too tired ?" 
 
114 
 
 "I d better show you how it s done, though there is 
 really no mystery about it." 
 
 " All good roads V down hill ?" She stood above him 
 altogether at ease, yet every sense on the alert lest at an 
 unguarded moment he should attempt that mysterious 
 intrusion, of which she stood so abjectly in dread. 
 
 He repeated the words after her : All good roads and 
 down hill." Then he tested the heat of the tea by touch 
 ing the spoon to the palm of his hand. " That is about 
 right/ 7 he said. 
 
 He brought the spoon to Anny s mouth as a mother 
 feeds a baby with the food at the point, so that it readily 
 came into contact with the lips and tongue. The mouth 
 contracted a little, drew in a bit of the liquid, and the 
 tongue rolled it awkwardly about as if tasting it. Then 
 it was swallowed. 
 
 "Queer," muttered Phoebe Ellen, from behind the doc 
 tor s chair. 
 
 He looked up at her, but he found her on guard over 
 her emotions. 
 
 "There really is no mystery about it," he repeated, 
 turning again to his patient. 
 
 " Oh, ye treat er dif rent from wot ye do well folks, 
 then," said Phoebe Ellen, just to show how completely she 
 was mistress of the situation. 
 
 The doctor paused with the spoon half-way to the 
 patient s mouth. 
 
 "I have a mysterious way of treating well people, 
 then ?" 
 
 " Ye think ye have," she retorted, with a short laugh. 
 
 "My means sometimes succeed in the end," he re 
 marked, administering the tea, which the patient took 
 with a mechanical relish such as puckers a week -old 
 baby s mouth when a bit of sugar is dropped upon its 
 tongue. 
 
 " That pends on who ye try em on," she replied. 
 
115 
 
 "Well people s heads ain t cracked, V they know their 
 own interests from a side o sole-leather." 
 
 " There !" said the doctor, rising and placing the bowl 
 in her hands. I m worn out and will have to lie down 
 for an hour. You see how to go on feeding her Til 
 leave it for you to finish up. There s nothing further, 
 except to keep on changing the bandages every few min 
 utes, and feed her once in every three or four hours." 
 
 il How shall I know when she s got nough ?" asked 
 Phoebe Ellen, assuming the bowl and spoon, and taking 
 her place at the bedside. 
 
 "She ll stop taking it." 
 
 " Oh ! W shall I give er anything to drink ?" 
 
 You can try her with water in a spoon. Give her all 
 she will take." 
 
 " Ye do look ruther tired," remarked Phoebe Ellen, 
 with a burst of concessive kindness. 
 
 " Thanks," he answered, dryly. 
 
 " Y r e overestimate yer strength, I shouldn t wonder," 
 she continued, becoming perverse again and speaking in 
 a tone whose significance he could not mistake. She was 
 master now, and her voice rang high and triumphant. 
 "Ye orter be keerful o that. It allus gits folks into 
 trouble." 
 
 He did not try to oppose her, but left the room, pre 
 ceded by Sam, who was to show him to his chamber. 
 
 " Pears like he s purty well done out," remarked the 
 latter on his return. "Wot d ye think o him, any 
 how ?" 
 
 His question was intended to be answered in a profes 
 sional way, but, woman-like, Phoebe Ellen made it a per 
 sonal matter. 
 
 " I hate im !" she answered, and went on feeding out 
 her tea. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 FINALLY the invalid s lips drew themselves up in an 
 obstinate pucker when the spoon was presented, and 
 Phoebe Ellen knew that her task was done. 
 
 Sam had been watching her over her shoulder. 
 
 " It sorter sends a shiver through a feller," he said. 
 f It s most like ye was to feed a corpse n it was to take 
 to swollerin ." He turned away and walked the length 
 of the room. 
 
 " I can t b lieve all he says bout the way she s likely to 
 wake up," declared Phoebe Ellen. " He ain t old nough 
 to ve had much sperience. Wot kind o feller is he, 
 anyhow ?" 
 
 " He seems to know a heap o things, one way V 
 nother," responded Sam. "The way he brought Lafe 
 Henderson aroun arter the shootin up to Ferguson s 
 showed he knows wot he s up to." 
 
 " Ye reckon he s to be trusted, then ?" 
 
 "I have that feeling" he answered, sadly. "I wish t 
 I could misdoubt im. It s a orfle thing he s prophesyin 
 o er. But I know he wouldn t say it thout he had 
 groun s." 
 
 "I m goin to hope fer the best, anyway," declared 
 Phoebe Ellen. Somehow she found it a rather cheerful 
 business to hope for the best when the doctor had decided 
 for the worst. " No man kin know wot s comin for 
 shore. The skull might be cracked V not press the 
 least speck on the inside. I ve seen cracked eggs that 
 way." 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
117 
 
 "Eggs ain t brains. He knows. The Doc knows," he 
 repeated. 
 
 It was a pleasure for her to talk over the case with 
 him in this friendly way, and she almost forgot in his 
 proximity that it was her own sister whose misfortune 
 she was discussing. He seemed so cast down, so anxious 
 about the girl s dreadful fate, that it satisfied a need of 
 hers to console him and make him look on the bright side. 
 Besides, his gloomy confidence in the doctor s judgment 
 gave her a thrill of assurance, as if Providence were taking 
 her part. Sam still believed her to be the heiress, and 
 she might be so in fact if her sister were never to recover 
 her senses. Everything looked favorable ; however, there 
 was one matter that must be looked after. She must 
 take care not to compromise herself by a declaration of 
 her usurped individuality till Anny awoke and it could 
 be definitely ascertained how much she remembered of 
 her past. As for her tacit admission that she was the 
 heiress, she could always explain that by the agitation 
 of the moment, when she had been incapable of noticing 
 anything. Silence is never conclusively condemnatory, 
 and she had done nothing more criminal than to hold her 
 peace. She could manage it easily enough. The thing 
 for her to be careful of during the remaining term of 
 Aimy s unconsciousness was to keep from being addressed 
 by her sister s name ; or, if so addressed, to overlook the 
 fact so as to carry no consequences into the future. And 
 even while she thought about it, a plan was forming it 
 self in her brain by which it would be wellnigh impos 
 sible to commit herself in her sister s name. She was 
 too self-confident to be troubled by the possibility that 
 her plan itself might occasion suspicion ; but her inge 
 nuity was precisely of the sort to overlook details to which 
 a less simple nature would have attached a proper value 
 from the first. 
 
 " Oh, I didn t go to say he wa n t ekal to his bizness," 
 
118 
 
 she said, apropos of Sam s last speech. "It s only nat ral 
 to want to b lieve the best o a feller s own sister. That s 
 all I meant." 
 
 "I kin onderstan that/ he answered. "But it s all 
 right to be prepared for the wust." 
 
 "Yes, but a feller kin do that V be hopeful, too. 
 Well, they ain t nothing fer us to do now but to wait." 
 
 "It seems kind o dreary, don t it ?" 
 
 "Three or four days? It seems a age! Ho w ll we 
 ever git through it ?" 
 
 " I m glad we got to stan it stiddier o her" he said, 
 after a little pause. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen adopted the sentiment readily. 
 
 " So be I. She don t know she don t sense nothin . 
 It s us t has to do the sufferin . N yit pore sis !" 
 
 Her willingness to suffer instead of Anny must have 
 rung false, for without being offended he changed the 
 subject. 
 
 " Pears like it s kinder queer how ye V yer sister never 
 calls each other by yer Christian-names. I noticed yer 
 never doin it wunst on the way over. N sence we got 
 ere ye ain t called er by er fust name a single time." 
 
 For an instant her heart fluttered in doubt and dread. 
 Then she felt the dangerous ground grow firm under her 
 feet as she saw her way across it to the outworking of a 
 part of her plan. 
 
 " Oh, it s the way we was brung up," she replied, in 
 easy explanation. This was true enough, and probably he 
 himself had divined it. But her next statement went 
 further. " Pears like the habit o never usin our names 
 to each other s give us a kind o horror o em, sometimes. 
 Back East there in Nebrasky, where we come from, we 
 was never called by our fust names I was Miss Thomp 
 son, V so was sis. We growed used to it, V I like it 
 better. Ye made up yer mind some time ago t I was a 
 crank, I reckon ?" She smiled at him, and he thought 
 
119 
 
 he had never before seen her look so pretty, so like her 
 sister. 
 
 He was obliged to admit that she was not mistaken in 
 his estimate of her peculiarities. 
 
 " It s the way folks does in Nebrasky, to call each other 
 by their fust names arter they git quainted," she con 
 tinued. 
 
 " So tis out West ere/ said Sam. 
 
 " That s wot I reckoned. Well, now, I don t like it. I 
 own I don t like it. It s too Western n f milyer that s 
 wot tis. I like to be Miss Thompson V nothin else. I 
 may be funny I reckon I be, but I can t help it. It goes 
 agin me turble to be called by my Christian - name it 
 allus did." 
 
 " Have I called ye that ?" inquired Sam. 
 
 " No. Nobody hain t yit, V I don t want em to. That s 
 wot I m talkin bout." 
 
 "I ll member," he said. Evidently it was of no conse 
 quence to him what she preferred to be called. 
 
 " Thankee. W say ! Ud ye mind tellin the doctor ? 
 I hate im, anyway, n it ud clean set me on needles n 
 pins to have im go agin me like that. N while he s here 
 in the house, right under my face n nose, so to speak, I d 
 like to git long with im thout rowinV 
 
 "I ll tell im, though I don t reckon he d call ye by yer 
 fust name, nohow. Boston folks ain t up to sech-like." 
 
 " N I ll see to Leatherhead. The other boys 11 do like 
 they hear you n Leatherhead do, anyhow. Well, I ll be 
 bleeged to ye fer tellin the doctor. I want to git along 
 peaceable V harmonious." 
 
 Thus she provided, for at least a few days, against being 
 called by the name which might compromise her. Against 
 anything further she must take her chances. But she 
 would have her wits constantly about her ; and, with her 
 will to back and direct them, she felt more than a match 
 for mere chance happenings. 
 
 
120 
 
 " Seems kinder queer the hatred ye take to people at 
 fust sight/ remarked Sam, in his slow way. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen smiled, and again she was like her sister. 
 
 "Now ye re thinkin o the way I treated you" she 
 said. 
 
 He could not deny the soft impeachment. 
 
 "Oh, Fve got over that," she declared. 
 
 He smiled in faint gratification. 
 
 " I m glad o that," he said. "I like to git along smooth 
 V easy. Life s too short fer the other thing." 
 
 "Ye kin do the other thing, though, I notice, when 
 folks tries to run over ye." 
 
 "Yes," he admitted. 
 
 " Well, we ain t agoin to fight no more. I was wrong, 
 all wrong one o my queer spells took me. I told ye I 
 had my crazy p ints. Wot ud the doctor do if I was to 
 fly at im like that ? Things orter go smooth between him 
 V me fer sis s sake." 
 
 " Yes." Sam saw the force of the last observation, and 
 Phoebe Ellen noticed the light of conviction that settled 
 in his slow, ruminant eyes. " I ll speak to im when he 
 comes out." 
 
 " He s a orfle funny duck," remarked Phoebe Ellen, just 
 to hear what Sam would say. 
 
 " Well, I d know s wot anybody d go agin yer jedg- 
 ment there. He is a funny duck. They tell wild stories 
 bout im over there to Halstead s." 
 
 " Wild stories ?" she repeated. " That may mean any 
 thing." 
 
 " It means in his case t he has the piercin est way o 
 lookin at people t ever I seen. They say over there " 
 
 " Oh, ye can t tell me nothin bout the way he looks at 
 people," interrupted Phoebe Ellen. "He tried it on me." 
 
 " I noticed. But he didn t seem to make out much." 
 
 She sniffed loftily, as much as to say, " Trust me fer 
 that!" Then aloud: 
 
121 
 
 Wot d ye reckon he was trying to make out, any- 
 
 ?" 
 
 " I d know in your case, but they say over there to 
 
 Halstead s t he s alias sperimentin on some un like that, 
 
 tryin to git on to wot they re thinkin . He stares at ye 
 
 * till he makes ye feel weak V queer, then he kin find out 
 
 anything he likes. They say he reely kin." 
 
 " I don t b lieve a word o it !" declared Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " Mind-reading he calls it. W hypnoozin . I d know 
 jes wot tis, fer I ain t up to sech ; but I know he s done 
 some funny things with the folks over to Halstead s. 
 They re full o it. They re afeerd o him, though in spite 
 o everything he ain t never harmed nobody. He jes 
 looks into folks till he finds out wot he wants, then he 
 lets em go. Pears like it s his way o havin fun." 
 
 " He d better not try it on me agin," threatened Phoebe 
 Ellen. 
 
 " Wot 11 ye do ?" 
 
 "I ll show im he s got a holt o one woomarn t he 
 can t make a fool of. La ! it s easy nough to git the 
 start o him !" 
 
 " Be ye shore ye did ?" 
 
 The question gave her a little chill, but she answered 
 promptly : 
 
 " Course I be ! I knowed wot he was tryin to do fust 
 off, n I jes shet my mind up agin im." 
 
 " I ain t shore / could do it," said Sam. 
 
 " Well, / ain t afeerd o im," she asserted, more boldly 
 than ever. "It ud be queer if the hypnoozer found his- 
 self hypnoozed one o these fine days, wouldn t it now ? 
 Well, all I say is, let im look out. Fm likely to fly off 
 the handle n stick in the wall ! But say ! Hadn t ye 
 better go V lay down a bit ? Ye didn t get a bit o sleep 
 las night." 
 
 " I was thinkin o that," he answered. " If I m to set 
 up with er agin to-night, I might s well keep fresh fer 
 
122 
 
 the bizness. I reckon I better take the night watch right 
 long till she comes to. N I ll lay out to sleep durin 
 the day." 
 
 On his way to the barn, where he purposed taking a nap 
 on the hay Sam always slept where there was plenty of 
 air stirring he ran across the doctor, who was pacing 
 restlessly up and down among the pines. 
 
 " Hello ! ye didn t lay down long, arter all, did ye ?" 
 Sam called out. "Anything happen to stir ye out ?" 
 
 " I never lie down long at a time/ answered the doctor, 
 pausing in the sun and working his clinched fingers to 
 gether behind his back. " Not even at night. My legs begin 
 to jerk, and I have to get up and move about. And my 
 toe-joints grind together. Great God ! Did you ever 
 have that feeling in your toes, Sam ?" 
 
 His eyes widened on the cowboy as if to give him a 
 glimpse of horrors. 
 
 "Never," said Sam, unaffected except to the extent of 
 considering it queer. 
 
 "Pray God you never may," the doctor went on. 
 " There s no torture of the damned that equals it. To be 
 on the point of falling asleep to feel one s self sinking 
 dreamily and peacefully away, then wrench ! grind ! 
 rasp ! All the horrors of hell are in that feeling. Well ! 
 what are they doing back there ?" 
 
 He jerked his thumb in the direction of the home 
 ranch. 
 
 " She breathes jes the same. They was gittin some 
 more tea ready fer er when I left." 
 
 The doctor glanced at his watch. 
 
 "It s time," he said. " She s prompt your Miss Anny. 
 How do you think you are going to like her ?" 
 
 " Oh, that reminds me she objecks to bein called by er 
 fust name. She wants to be called jes Miss Thompson." 
 
 The doctor was silent during a pause of puzzled in 
 quiry. 
 
123 
 
 " Have you been calling her anything else ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh no/ was Sam s answer. 
 
 There was another little pause, after which the doctor 
 frowned. 
 
 "Oh, she was merely warning you beforehand ? That 
 was kind of her." The tone was sarcastic. 
 
 "I d know s t was meant for me more n other folks," 
 declared Sam. 
 
 "Did she mention names ?" 
 
 "Yes, she did." 
 
 "For instance " 
 
 "Yourn." 
 
 " That was kind of her," murmured the doctor. 
 
 "Id know s twas meant to be noways as kind s ye 
 pear to think. She didn t pertend to be up to the kind 
 act. She jes put it at me in the light o a freak." 
 
 " Oh ! a freak ?" 
 
 " She said twas jes er way. She liked it better." 
 
 Now the doctor s pause was filled with a wide scrutiny 
 of Sam s large, simple features. 
 
 "She asked you in so many words to speak to me 
 about it ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Not to call her anything but Miss Thompson ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And she gave no reason ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Did she seem to think I might call her by her first 
 name ?" 
 
 "I took it so." 
 
 " Queer, isn t it ?" The doctor unclinched his hands 
 from behind and folded his arms on his breast. 
 
 "Oh, we all have our queernesses," said Sam, philo 
 sophically. 
 
 " Very queer," repeated the doctor, biting his thumb 
 nail nervously as he walked away. 
 
124 
 
 When Leatherhead brought in the tea Phoebe Ellen 
 made the same request of him that Sam had made of the 
 doctor. 
 
 " Call ye Miss Thompson, n nothin else ?" he repeated, 
 dropping his jaw and bulging his eyes in the meaningless 
 astonishment which was the ultimate expression of his in 
 dividuality. " Hang it, ain t that comin it ruther high 
 n mighty fer the range kentry ? 0" course, back East 
 there in ISTebrasky, where they put on style, everything 
 goes ; but out ere Miss Thompson ! Say, we allus call 
 em by their fust names arter we git to know em, n 
 sometimes we tack Another name on, too, jes for a flier. 
 There s Rawhide Sal over to Halstead s, V Freckled Ma- 
 riar over to Ferguson s, V Slungshot Susan over to " 
 
 " Never mind!" interrupted Phoebe Ellen, sternly. 
 " Ye ll member wot I say ?" 
 
 And thus the matter was settled with Leatherhead ; 
 and Phoebe Ellen once more went conscientiously to work 
 feeding out the tea. 
 
 "I managed that purty well," she said to herself, ap 
 provingly. " N if Sam V the doctor n Leatherhead 
 don t call me Anny, nobody will. So that s all fixed." 
 
 But in the midst of her self-gratulation a dreadful 
 thought presented itself. 
 
 Wot if sis was to wake up in er right mind now 9" 
 
 The possibility made her gasp for breath. 
 
 " I couldn t excuse myself fer this, nohow. I d jes 
 have to own up, n take consequences. That ud be hor 
 rid. But if she should come to in er right mind " 
 
 The rest of the sentence came like the echo of a ham 
 mer s stroke. 
 
 " I might have a dose ready fer er, to be on the safe 
 side !" 
 
 She cast aside the thought as best she could, and tried 
 to think of something else. 
 
 " That s jes like me ; I never kin see a inch afore my 
 
125 
 
 nose in broad daylight, nohow. Why didn t I keep my 
 mouth shet V run chances ? Wot a fix ! But she won t 
 be erself the doctor says she won t. I ll be good to er ; 
 I ll give er jes wot the doctor orders, n nothin* more. I 
 kin ford to take good keer o er ; she won t never be able 
 to harm me. N wot if Leatherhead should fergit n call 
 me Miss Anny, arter all my cautionin ; V wot if that 
 doctor should turn contrairy n do the same, jes cause I 
 ast im not to ? I d have to make a row, o course, V that 
 ud fix it more n ever in their minds t I d been passin 
 under Anny s name. Well, I am a shore nough fool ! 
 But she won t come to in er proper senses ; I know she 
 won t !" 
 
 She looked down at her sister with hard examination. 
 
 "I won t pizen er, though I swear to God I won t! 
 She s my sister I mustn t lose sight o that. Well, I got 
 to make the best o my folly ; but wot folly, to be shore ! 
 Arter all, the chief thing to dread is t she ll wake up in 
 er right mind." 
 
 And in her anxiety she lost sight of the depravity evi 
 denced by that dread. But she was not altogether cast 
 down. We seldom are appalled by the probable conse 
 quences of our stupidity. And Phoebe Ellen had great 
 confidence in what she called her "wits." 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 she and the doctor next met, a little before 
 noon, they greeted each other with civility, and discussed 
 the condition of the patient with all the outward signs 
 of respect and confidence. The doctor looked at her only 
 momentarily,, and, as far as appearances went, for assistance 
 in understanding more completely what she had to say ; 
 and there was no betrayal of antagonism in her answer 
 ing glance. If there was indeed a feeling of opposition 
 in her, she merged it so thoroughly into her very natural 
 solicitude for her sister that it was undetectable in its 
 diluted state. She was eagerly, anxiously helpful. Pos 
 sibly her very alertness to danger gave her a more natural, 
 because a more womanly, air ; the womanliness resulting 
 inevitably from any change not violently for the worse. 
 But she was not her natural self ; Sam noticed it, with a 
 lively sense of improvement in her which his hopeful 
 nature tried to think of as permanent. She spoke in a 
 tone of subdued shrillness which in another woman would 
 have been threatening, but in her was almost dove-like. 
 She did not wag her head so much as Sam believed was 
 her habit ; her chin had a less forward slant ; she stood 
 less frequently with her arms akimbo ; she showed a 
 facility in smiling which reminded him more and more 
 agreeably of her sister. These changes were all good to 
 see, and if Sam did not develop an actual liking for her, 
 he at least began to think of her as a tolerable sort of 
 young woman, and to remember her conduct at the de 
 pot as one phase of that mysterious phenomenon called 
 
127 
 
 " nerves/ by which men try in a word to explain the un- 
 explainable in woman. 
 
 The doctor remained with the patient while Phoebe Ellen 
 and Sarn took dinner together. Throughout the meal she 
 was uninterruptedly pleasant and conciliating. She com 
 plimented the cowboy on his way of managing the estate 
 she had actually found nothing that she would care to 
 change, though she had a secret belief that she could, if 
 she chose to give time to it and listened to his state 
 ment of her bank account Anny s bank account ! with 
 but a slight intensification of the applause she bestowed 
 upon the care he had taken in training the pea-vines to 
 their present state of productiveness. 
 
 The doctor frequently came into the sick-room in the 
 course of the afternoon, but he never remained long. He 
 entered, made a few inquiries, noted the patient s pulse, 
 removed the bandage and examined the wound, remarked 
 that she was getting on as well as could be expected, and 
 then went out. Sometimes he lay down for a few min 
 utes in the room which had been prepared for him ; some 
 times he sprawled in the most fatiguing postures across a 
 chair on the veranda ; sometimes he spread himself out on 
 the mountain-side in the sun, and lay kicking and twist 
 ing about, making hillocks of the carefully packed pine- 
 needles. 
 
 After supper, while they were making their arrange 
 ments for the night, Dr. Sedgwick suggested several things 
 for the comfort of both watchers and patient. He seemed 
 kindly disposed, and there was nothing in look or glance 
 to indicate a desire to poach on Phoebe Ellen s mental 
 preserves. He engaged in some general conversation with 
 her, went into the defects of ranch -life from a Boston 
 point of view, and expatiated on the effect of the Colorado 
 climate on pulmonary troubles. He even displayed a 
 saturnine humor now and then which made her laugh : as 
 when he remarked that he, as a consumptive, would rather 
 
128 
 
 make more desolate the most arid half-acre in Colorado 
 than decorate the prettiest cemetery in New England. 
 But she suspected him always, and never for a moment 
 was off her guard. His eyes seldom met hers, and that 
 fact in itself made her suspicious. He was lulling her 
 into a sense of security, and when he found her absent- 
 minded or on the point of yielding to some passing emo 
 tion he would enter her mind and take possession, just as 
 he had done this morning, only more completely explore 
 its nooks and corners to the uttermost, pull out and ex 
 amine its disgraceful possessions and publish their value 
 and import to the world. She had a horrid conviction 
 that if he were to gain the mastery over her again, it would 
 be forever. Once in there after what had already oc 
 curred, she could never thrust him out ; she would remain 
 the creature of his will, unresisting, passive, disgraced by 
 his knowledge of her soul. 
 
 The night passed without change in the patient s con 
 dition. Sam had slept sufficiently during the day to take 
 up his post once more without fatigue, and Phoebe Ellen, 
 desiring at least a formal share of his watch, arranged a 
 bed for herself on an old lounge which was brought in 
 from some obscure corner of the house and fitted up with 
 comforts and pillows for the occasion. She awoke several 
 times in the night, but always found Sam at his post, at 
 tentive, thoughtful, strong in the strenuous tenderness of 
 kindly manhood which was so eminently his possession. 
 She felt his presence in the room with the utter confi 
 dence which is so precious to woman in her relations with 
 man. 
 
 The forenoon of the second day came and went. Still 
 nothing unusual between Phoebe Ellen and the doctor. 
 But her problem was assuming proportions of which she 
 had never dreamed. At first it had been simple enough 
 to look after her sister, and, if the latter never came to 
 her right mind, assume her name and estate in such man- 
 
129 
 
 ner as would best serve her own interests ; but now her 
 chief care had become to avert the suspicions of a mind- 
 reader, at whose ultimate power she could only guess. 
 Everything but the mind-reader could take care of itself. 
 And, realizing this fact, she found herself facing him 
 with a steadiness of nerve which, while it put upon her a 
 strain beyond her strength, gave her a confidence in final 
 triumph, and yielded her a satisfaction such as underlies 
 all strong volition in natures accustomed to dominate. 
 She developed a sort of inward vision by which she knew 
 when his eyes were upon her ; she was aware of his move 
 ments when her back was towards him ; at times she al 
 most penetrated his thoughts. 
 
 He had been careful to avoid the use of her Christian- 
 name ; he addressed her merely as * you," and, when Sam 
 was present, indicated whom he meant by fixing his eyes 
 momentarily upon her. That was best ; certainly it was 
 easiest for her. But she was prepared at any moment to 
 have him address her as Miss Anny, and to resent it with 
 all the energy of oifended majesty. The more she thought 
 of it, the more stupid it seemed to her to have prohibited 
 the name at all ; she should have said nothing about it, 
 for the chances against her would have been no stronger 
 than at present, considering the doctor s peculiar disposi 
 tion to search and pry. She had been silly, certainly ; 
 but this conviction operated beneficently in her case, for 
 it sharpened her intellect, if not her conscience ; she be 
 came nervously alert to the means of forestalling what 
 ever should tell against her, but was never really sorry for 
 what she had done except as it rendered her method of 
 procedure more difficult. 
 
 But on the afternoon of the second day Phoebe Ellen 
 noticed signs of reviving storm in the doctor s direction. 
 He came to the room where she was sitting with Anny, 
 and, after his customary examination of the patient, set 
 tled back in his chair with the evident intention of hav- 
 
130 
 
 ing a talk. Settling back in his chair, in the doctor s 
 case, meant that he hooked his armpit over the pommel, 
 twisted his fingers together, spread his thin legs the 
 horrible thinness of a consumptive s legs has never been 
 touched upon in literature and proceeded to writhe. 
 His talk began naturally enough, and passed easily from 
 one subject to another, Phoebe Ellen following it, inward 
 ly watchful and defiant. Suddenly, in the course of some 
 indifferent remark, he called her "Miss Thompson" with 
 an emphasis which meant mischief. Phoebe Ellen was 
 open to signs and portents, and was not slow to scent dan 
 ger. She did not glance up from her mending at once 
 she had found that she could pick up a bit of work to ad 
 vantage during the five-minute intervals of nursing but 
 kept her eyes riveted to her needle, and went on steadily 
 drawing the thread in and out. Then as he paused in his 
 speech, and she had a chance for a rejoinder, she glanced 
 easily in his direction, as one naturally does before taking 
 the conversation upon one s self. Nevertheless she was 
 inwardly disturbed, and half expected the hypnotic stare 
 with which she was familiar. His eyes were upon her, to 
 be sure, but with a half-amused, half-sarcastic look, as if 
 he were wondering how she would take his emphatic 
 compliance with her wishes. She was confident that no 
 change crossed her features as their glances met ; she 
 went on with what she had started to say, finished it, and 
 was delighted to see the look of sarcastic amusement fade 
 from his face before she once more lowered her eyes to 
 her work. 
 
 But the doctor was not to be discomfited by one failure. 
 He pulled himself together and proceeded to other topics 
 of conversation. But "Miss Thompson," uttered with 
 sarcastic emphasis, came in at every third word. The 
 constant iteration, the nagging tone, the knowledge that 
 he was trying to make her lose her temper, irritated her 
 beyond measure ; she was accustomed to meet anything 
 
131 
 
 of the sort with loud-tongued defiance, and the effort to 
 control herself brought an ominous thinness to her lips 
 and n wrinkle to the corner of her mouth which indicated 
 the tension under which she was laboring. She began to 
 count, and found that the effort quieted her. "Be I 
 takin my stitches reg lar, I wonder ? If I kin keep my 
 mind on that, it 11 help me." Thus she gathered herself 
 firmly in, adjusting her thoughts, not by what he was say 
 ing, but by the regularity with which she purposed to 
 draw her thread in and out in spite of all that he could 
 say. The determination to do her work evenly somehow 
 brought evenness and regularity into her thoughts ; and 
 thus she succeeded in keeping her temper, which was the 
 chief thing she was aiming at. 
 
 Finally she was gratified to see the doctor draw a long 
 breath as if he, too, had been exerting himself, and with 
 a final glance, either of defeat or threat, he left the room, 
 and Phoebe Ellen recovered herself at her leisure. 
 
 The third day came without alteration in Anriy s con 
 dition. Phoebe Ellen s care for the sick girl suffered no 
 diminution ; the food was administered with the regu 
 larity of clock-work, the bandages were changed precise 
 ly as the doctor ordered, the mechanism of the sick 
 room moved on with as little friction as if the entire 
 thought of the well woman were expended upon the com 
 fort of the sick one. Yet in fact very little of Phoebe 
 Ellen s solicitude was for her sister. " If I didn t tend 
 to er right, that man ud be shore to find it out," she 
 thought. "I kin guard one secret, I reckon, but I couldn t 
 keep im out o more n that." Her thoughts were always 
 upon the doctor and the conditions he would impose upon 
 their intercourse. She waited upon the invalid with her 
 spine, so to speak ; but her brain and soul were directed 
 with all the energy they were capable of towards the task 
 of complete self-control. 
 
 The doctor did not immediately try to annoy her again. 
 
132 
 
 They met each other quietly so quietly tnat their atti 
 tude might almost be called a pose and seemed to have 
 no other thought between them than the welfare of the 
 patient. Phoebe Ellen accepted the truce with readiness, 
 but she watched it as keenly as if it had meant open hos 
 tility. She was glad of peace, but she was quite prepared 
 for war. 
 
 "He s tried Miss Thompson on me," she thought, " n. 
 found that don t disturb me, but wot if he was to take to 
 callin me Anny ? He ll do it, I know ; I feel it comin . 
 N he ll try to do it onexpected, when he kin git the dis 
 advantage o 7 me. I ll git mad then, I know he s been 
 told aforehand that 11 make me mad, n o course it will. 
 N if I git mad, wot then ? LI he be so scart t he ll fer- 
 git to try to find out my secret ? I doubt it. Lord, wot 
 will happen then ?" 
 
 The best plan she could think of was not to get angry 
 at all, but to simulate a rage she did not feel, and thus 
 give consistence to the role she had proposed to herself. 
 With this idea in mind she rehearsed the impending scene 
 as an actor might, flinging her pretended anger into words 
 and looks and gestures which she made to resemble as 
 nearly as possible her genuine anger of other days, as she 
 remembered it. She brooded over this denouement when 
 she was alone, became familiar with it, incorporated it 
 into the substance of her thought. And at last she felt 
 prepared. 
 
 And on the afternoon of the third day, the doctor, lurch 
 ing about in his, chair after his examination of the patient, 
 turned suddenly on her with the question : 
 
 " These days of waiting must wear on you dreadfully, 
 Miss Anny ?" And although her face was turned in 
 another direction she felt his eyes upon her, opening 
 slowly and revealing vistas of unholy light. 
 
 She was wiping a glass when he addressed her, but she 
 was prepared. Her hand did not tremble ; there was 110 
 
133 
 
 danger of dropping the glass and breaking it. She felt 
 the muscles of her voice altogether under her control. The 
 first words of the harangue she had prepared came to her 
 as distinctly as if they had been written on the wall, and 
 she knew that the others would follow. She felt the 
 power in her to deliver that speech, and to deliver it well, 
 and she opened her mouth for the purpose. But nothing 
 of the sort happened. At that instant something like an 
 inspiration came to her. To her own surprise, she turned 
 on him with a smile of perfect good-nature, and, still rub 
 bing her glass, said, in the easiest manner in the world : 
 
 "I knowed that was coming doctor. I reckon ye feel 
 better now ?" 
 
 He was nonplussed. She could have laughed out with 
 joy at the whole transaction, it had gone off so smoothly, 
 so utterly as a matter of course. In an inspired moment 
 she had at least partly undone the stupidity of her request 
 to be called only Miss Thompson, and had established her 
 self on the old basis of trusting to luck. " Now if sis 
 wakes up in er right mind, I kin swear I done the hull 
 thing out o contrariness, jes to see the doctor try to make 
 me mad/ she said to herself. " Anyway, I m still ahead. 
 Every time I rattle im, the less shore he ll be o hisself 
 when he comes at me agin." 
 
 She set aside her glass and seated herself, facing him. 
 
 "Ye do feel better," she decided with ironical com 
 posure, after examining him. "I kin see it by the set o 
 yer hair." 
 
 "You don t seem to resent the use of your first name 
 so violently as one might have expected," he remarked. 
 
 " Oh, I have my own little ways o musin myself," she 
 answered, in a voice which implied that he had done pre 
 cisely as she wished him to do. 
 
 " Amusing yourself ?" he repeated. 
 
 She pursed up her lips and nodded at the same time. 
 
 "Amusing yourself with me ? How do you mean ?" 
 
134 
 
 "Oh, I jes wanted to see how contrary ye could be. I 
 made shore it ud be funny." 
 
 The delicate muscles of his chin gave a spasmodic 
 jerk. 
 
 "You find it funny ?" 
 
 " Dretf ul funny ! Why not ?" 
 
 "Queer !" she heard him mutter to himself. 
 
 She laughed provokingly. 
 
 "Ye find it only queer ?" she asked. " To me it s so 
 funny it s fairly comic." 
 
 But he did not answer, and after a moment s silence she 
 continued, following his mechanical glance towards the 
 bed: 
 
 " She don t seem to be comin to erself so very fast, 
 does she ? We re nearin the end o the third day. How 
 much longer d ye give this sort o thing to go on ?" 
 
 "/give ? Talk to nature. I have nothing to do with 
 it." 
 
 " How long d ye reckon nater is goin to keep it up, 
 then ?" 
 
 He rose, twisting his thin shoulders about in his loosely 
 hanging coat and scowling. 
 
 " Your sister may not wake up for another day. I 
 never said there was anything certain about the time." 
 
 "Not later n to-morrer, then ?" 
 
 "I should say not." 
 
 " We re to call ye when the change begins ?" 
 
 " By all means." 
 
 And as he left the room she heard him once more mut 
 ter under his breath the single word, " Queer !" 
 
 Again she laughed out in half - contemptuous enjoy 
 ment. 
 
 " I m ahead o where I was when I made that silly wish 
 to be called Miss Thompson, anyhow," she thought, " fer 
 now I ve puzzled im. If he calls me Anny now I ll jes 
 grin, V then it 11 be easy nough to say, if I have to, t the 
 
135 
 
 reason I kind o half-way passed off as the heiress was jes 
 to git a bit o Amusement out o the doctor. That was the 
 best way out o ? the hull bizness that way o smilin at im. 
 Well, Fve allus heerd as the devil takes keer o his own, 
 V now they ain t a doubt about it in my mind not a 
 doubt !" 
 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 SAM watched again that night. Phoebe Ellen made 
 him promise to rouse her at the slightest change, but,, 
 truth to tell, it was chiefly on his own account that he 
 hardly took his eyes from the bed during his long vigil. 
 However, no change occurred, and at six o clock next 
 morning Phoebe Ellen awoke to the same state of affairs 
 that had prevailed when she went to sleep. 
 
 "This ere s the fourth day," she said, after Sam had 
 finished his account of the night s watch. " The doctor 
 said she d shorely rouse up on the fourth day." 
 
 Sam looked anxious. 
 
 "I shaVt go to sleep agin till it s settled one way or 
 Another," he declared. 
 
 After breakfast they sat down together near the sick 
 bed and talked. They could decide nothing, of course, 
 but it did them good to rehearse their hopes and fears, 
 and wonder about this and that. And in the midst of 
 their wonderings and hopings the doctor came in. 
 
 "Ye see," said Phoebe Ellen, waving her hand towards 
 the bed. " She s jes the same." 
 
 "Yes," answered the doctor, "but she must not be 
 left alone a minute during the day. She may open her 
 eyes at any time. And some one must be on hand to 
 look after her !" 
 
 " S posin she was to come to fer a minute V then fall 
 asleep agin ?" asked Sam. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen had never thought of that, and awaited 
 the doctor s answer with interest. 
 
 "No harm would follow, probably, but it would be 
 
137 
 
 well to attract her attention and keep her awake if pos 
 sible at least, for a while." 
 " W if we should fail, she " 
 " She would probably awaken later. But " 
 " She might not ?" 
 
 " She might sleep herself to death," was the doctor s 
 answer. 
 
 "We mus member that," said Sam to Phoebe Ellen. 
 The doctor left the room, and presently was visible on 
 a rock a little way up the mountain -side, dangling his 
 thin legs among some wild sunflowers. Phoebe Ellen sat 
 down by the window and took up her mending, while 
 Sam flung himself into a chair by the table in full view of 
 the patient s face. His cartridge-belt, with the pistol 
 thrust into it, lay at his side, where he had flung it the 
 night before when he took up his watch. He did not feel 
 like talking, and Phoebe Ellen respected his mood ; so he 
 idly fingered the cartridge-belt, and wondered, with an 
 anxiety which was softened by a dreamy languor conse 
 quent on his long vigil, what they would do to attract the 
 sick girl s attention should they find it necessary when 
 she awoke. 
 
 There was a little nickel-plated clock in the room, and 
 its ticking multiplied itself in a loud, hollow resonance 
 which made the silence heavy. Sometimes its noise grew 
 hurried, as if time had been lost and must be made up ; 
 again it became leisurely, and seemed to stop and yawn 
 betweeii-whiles. The river was audible as a faint susurrus, 
 which at times deepened to a monotone, but always re 
 turned to that singularly elemental sound so common in 
 nature, which plainly says, " Sh sh !" The pines, too, 
 were vocal, and took the wind with a dreamy murmur 
 which left the mind vacant to everything but the lan 
 guid ecstasy of swaying boughs and slumberous shadows. 
 Sometimes the river and the pines united their voices in 
 a long, wailing cry, which rose in shrill crescendo, filled 
 
138 
 
 the sky with an aerial climax, and died away in a sound 
 like that of a sublimated trolley-car. Sam was sleepy, in 
 spite of his resolve to keep awake. The ticking of the 
 clock went on with a somnolent regularity which no 
 longer broke into hurry or weariness ; its clucking per 
 sistence became strangely soothing ; its monotony got 
 into his eyes and breathing, and before he was aware of 
 it he was in a state of semi -consciousness. His eyes 
 closed uncertainly at first, as if in reflex obedience to a 
 memory of duty ; then more and more heavily, till the 
 lids no longer trembled, but lay quietly closed, not exactly 
 in sleep, but in that intermediate state which is a pure 
 physical enjoyment. Sam did not lose consciousness ; he 
 knew all about the busy figure at the window, the sick 
 girl on the bed, his own personality propped up against 
 the table on one unstable elbow, the cartridge-belt and 
 pistol at his side ; but it was all mingled together in a 
 happy vagueness which was as enchanting as the con 
 dition of the lotus-eaters, who saw and felt and heard, 
 but only as an accompaniment to the vacant enjoyment of 
 utter rest. 
 
 A lurch of his elbow brought him erect in his seat and 
 staring. He had a wild feeling that something had hap 
 pened ; he knew where he was, but somehow it all seemed 
 new, made over after a new pattern. He did not turn his 
 head, and it was by the merest accident that his unwink 
 ing gaze fastened itself upon the occupant of the bed. 
 And he saw, with a thrill of horror, that the invalid s eyes 
 were open in a wide stare, as if the lids had been drawn 
 apart by the contracting chill of death in the muscles. 
 He could not have uttered a word or made a movement to 
 save his life. Waking thus suddenly and meeting that 
 meaningless glare in the girl s sightless orbs, he felt his 
 throat contracting in a nightmare struggle to cry out. 
 But no sound came, and in an instant the effort passed, 
 though not the horror of it, and he was able to withdraw 
 
139 
 
 his eyes, with a stifling inhalation, to the spot where 
 Phoebe Ellen was sitting. The sight of her brought him 
 in a measure to himself. She was sewing placidly, the 
 morning sunshine making a strong yellow light in her 
 hair. He had time to think that the patient had proba 
 bly opened her eyes at the same moment as himself, for 
 Phoebe Ellen was watchful, and would have noticed a 
 moment or two after the event occurred. 
 
 "She ain t dead," he thought. "She can t be dead/ 
 Something in the effort of self-assurance brought him to 
 his feet, still under the horrid spell of his awakening. 
 
 " She s dead !" he cried, in a hoarse voice, in direct con 
 tradiction of what he had just been telling himself. And 
 he stood, pointing. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen s eyes followed the direction of the point 
 ing finger. 
 
 "No," she answered. "She s waked up. Go fer the 
 doctor. He s in his room." 
 
 The calm, business-like tone reassured him, and he was 
 able to shake off his horror. He left the room, still not 
 quite steadily, but with an awakening sense that the crisis 
 had come. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen dropped her work and took three steps to 
 the bedside. In doing so she passed between the patient 
 and the light, but attracted no attention from the staring 
 eyes. 
 
 " They can t be nothin wrong with er," she thought, 
 as she reached the sick girl s side. " She s a-breathin the 
 same s ever." 
 
 She came close and bent down. There was no recogni 
 tion in the sightless orbs only a ghastly stare, fixed 
 meaninglessly upon space. 
 
 " Sis !" she called. 
 
 There was no sign of intelligence. 
 
 " Sis !" she repeated in a louder voice. 
 
 The unwinking eyes remained fixed upon vacancy. 
 
140 
 
 "Sis !" she cried. "Wake up ! Wake up ! Don t ye 
 know me ?" 
 
 But the same vacant apathy was her only response. 
 
 All at once a wild look came into Phrebe Ellen s face 
 a look which seemed thrust to the surface -by some un 
 holy thought. "If she was to fall asleep agin she might 
 die. That wouldn t be my fault. If the doctor V Sam 
 was to wait long nough could I manage it ? I might try 
 to wake er, ever so gently, so t it would be the truth if I 
 told em I tried. They ain t no harm in that, nohow." 
 
 She glanced fearfully about as if dreading a spy upon 
 her actions. The door was closed tightly she listened. 
 Sam and the doctor were not yet approaching she would 
 be able to hear their footsteps on the uncarpeted floor of 
 the next room long before they neared the door. She 
 bent close to the invalid s ear, intending to whisper her 
 name. " That 11 be nough to sat sfy my conscience," she 
 thought, with a guilty tremor at her heart. But the next 
 instant her better nature predominated, and she found 
 herself shaking Anny violently by the shoulder, and crying, 
 in a shrill, sharp tone : 
 
 " Sis ! Sis ! Why don t ye wake up V be yerself ? It s 
 me t & callin ye. Don t ye know me ?" 
 
 Was she mistaken ? Did the helpless head turn a little 
 in her direction ? No surely it could not be ; the eyes 
 were as lack-lustre as ever ; there was the same look in all 
 the features as if the soul had fled out of them and left 
 only their familiar lines where life had been. 
 
 And now a great desire took possession of her to recall 
 this wandering mind, to force it back into its old habitation 
 and make it take up its accustomed line of thought. For 
 a moment the good in her predominated altogether, and 
 she forgot the difficulties she might be preparing for her 
 self in helping her sister back to life. 
 
 " Sis !" she repeated, accompanying the word with an 
 other shake. 
 
141 
 
 She stood erect, the better to observe any change which 
 might occur. Surely the eyes had narrowed a little ; they 
 were trying to fix on something definite close at hand ! 
 
 Had she understood ? Phoebe Ellen s heart fluttered 
 guiltily. Then a sense of her own danger came back, 
 and the possibility that Anny might wake up in her right 
 mind filled her with dread. She had never realized till 
 that moment how she had counted on the doctor s word, 
 and how much it meant to her that she should enter into 
 her sister s name and place in the world. Would it riot 
 have been better to make true the first murderous thought 
 of the morning following the accident ? 
 
 But even with this horrid regret in her mind she went 
 on trying to awaken the unconscious girl. 
 
 " Anny I" she called, uttering her sister s name for the 
 first time. What if the doctor and Sam should hear? 
 She could not help it. A power stronger than herself 
 was driving her on. 
 
 Now the staring eyes were certainly turned towards her. 
 
 " Ye know me ?" 
 
 There was no response to the question but another effort 
 of readjustment in the staring orbs. 
 
 " Ye know me yer sister Phoebe Ellen ?" 
 
 The effort seemed to continue, but she could not be 
 sure. It occurred to her that she might accidentally have 
 placed herself directly in the girl s sight, and that she 
 had only imagined the attempt to follow her movements. 
 She stood a little to one side. 
 
 " Anny!" she called, trying to attract her attention in 
 that direction. 
 
 The eyes did not really move, though the lids fluttered, 
 as if the muscles were trying to adjust themselves to 
 movement. But there was no further result that Phoebe 
 Ellen could be sure of. 
 
 " Is she goin to stay awake, I wonder ? Why don t she 
 do one thing or nother, anyway ? If she was to go to sleep 
 
142 
 
 agin afore the doctor come back would I try to bender 
 ber ? Course I would ! Ain t she my own sister ? But I 
 wonder if she was reely tryin to notice. She might a 
 been jes tryin to foller the noise, thout memberin her 
 name t all, so that ain t no sign she s comin to herself. 
 I wouldn t mind much wot else she membered if she d 
 only fergit er name V the ownership o the ranch." 
 
 Then Sam s heavy steps were audible in the next room, 
 mingled with the light, irregular, dragging sound of the 
 doctors. The door opened, and the cowboy entered first. 
 He was quite himself now. 
 
 " She s still awake ?" was his first question. 
 
 " Yes," answered Phoebe Ellen, bending over her sister 
 so as to conceal her own face. " But I can t seem to 
 make er see me. I been tryinV 
 
 The doctor came up. Excitement gave a momentary 
 steadiness to his nerves, and he looked almost manly. 
 
 "We must make her see us," he declared. 
 
 He brought his open palm close to the girl s eyes, thrust 
 ing it back and forth threateningly, but the dilated pupils 
 stared straight ahead without shrinking. 
 
 "She made more show n that when I hollered at er," 
 said Phoebe Ellen, always ready to disparage any move 
 ment of the doctor s. 
 
 He shook out a red shawl in the patient s range of 
 vision, but without result. 
 
 "Her eyes is shorely a-gittin duller," declared Phoebe 
 Ellen. Her words expressed a secret hope, but her voice 
 betrayed only anxiety. 
 
 " Is she blind d ye reckon she s waked up blind?" she 
 asked, in a hushed voice. 
 
 And the doctor answered : " No. She isn t awake yet, 
 that is all. We must rouse her in some way. If we had 
 a bright light" 
 
 "1Jd the candle do ?" 
 
 " Let us try it," said the doctor. 
 
143 
 
 The candle was brought and lighted. The doctor passed 
 it to and fro before the patient s eyes so closely that the 
 glare would have been unbearable to the ordinary vision. 
 Once or twice a slight tremulousness of the lids was per 
 ceptible, and Sam declared he had caught a momentary 
 frown between the brows ; but both signs were too elusive 
 to count in the scale of returning consciousness. The 
 pupils remained open and staring, and the eyeballs did not 
 turn. Then, even while they wondered at the insensibil 
 ity of nerve which gave no sign of shrinking before that 
 blaze of light, the patient moved her head slightly, not as 
 if to avoid the glare, but wearily, as if to find an easier 
 position for the muscles of her neck. After that she 
 nestled her head slightly among the pillows, drew up her 
 left arm, and let it fall upon her breast with a sighing 
 breath. Then, with the peculiar tasting movement of the 
 lips which is common with sleeping people who have been 
 disturbed and who are settling themselves for another 
 nap, she turned her head still farther to one side, and the 
 eyes, still undisturbed by the proximity of the candle, 
 closed heavily and slowly. 
 
 " Be ye goin to let er go off agin ?" asked Sam, anx 
 iously. " Didn t ye say that was dangerous ?" 
 
 "It must be stopped/ answered the doctor, with deci 
 sion. " We must get her attention somehow." 
 
 " I hollered in er ear afore ye come in," said Phoebe 
 Ellen. "But it didn t do no good. She was as deaf as 
 the wall." 
 
 "I kin go ye one better n hollering" declared Sam, 
 seizing his pistol and dragging it from its belt on the 
 table. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen looked as if about to protest, but the 
 doctor nodded approval. 
 
 "Wot if ye was to skeer er into fits?" Phoebe Ellen 
 demanded. When she felt like protesting, she always 
 did it. 
 
144 
 
 "Fits is easy cured," declared Sam. "Shall I let her 
 drive ?" 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor. 
 
 "Then put yer hands to yer ears." 
 
 Arid Phoebe Ellen and the doctor obeyed. 
 
 Sam got as close to the bed as possible, aimed the pistol 
 at the floor, and fired. The noise in the little room was 
 terrific ; for an instant it seemed as if they were stand 
 ing inside an earthquake. Then the deafness which fol- 
 I lowed the shock filled the world with a great blank, into 
 
 which they seemed to be dissolving. But presently they 
 remembered what it was all about, and glanced towards 
 the bed. 
 
 The patient was sitting up and rolling her eyes about. 
 She was holding both hands to her ears in a sort of spasm, 
 thus indicating that she had located the sound somewhere 
 outside herself. But that she was unaware of anything 
 more definite than a crash of the nerves, a shock which had 
 left every muscle quivering, was evinced by the meaning 
 less, void gaze which wandered about in search of what 
 had aroused her, but was incapable of directing itself to 
 any reasonable explanation. The only expression on her 
 face was one of helpless terror, and that was pitiful beyond 
 the power of words. The whole occurrence was like a 
 child s first experience of pain, which confuses and terri 
 fies, but has no meaning beyond a rending shock. 
 
 Phcebe Ellen seated herself on the side of the bed and 
 put her arms around her sister. 
 
 " There, there, sis," she kept repeating, in a soothing 
 voice. "There, there !" 
 
 She became so interested in pacifying the terrified 
 creature that she forgot her own interest in the issue. 
 
 " There, there ! Don t be skeert. It won t hurt ye 
 it waVt nothin to take on about. Don t ye see ? We 
 done it a-purpose to rouse ye up. We won t do it no 
 
145 
 
 The invalid did not look at her or seem to have any 
 curiosity as to who was near ; but that she noticed and was 
 comforted was evident from her leaning in Phoebe Ellen s 
 direction, as a frightened child might do when mutely 
 craving protection. Phoebe Ellen put her arms more 
 closely about her and held her thus, saying : 
 
 " Did it skeer ye, sis ? Did it make ye mos jump out 
 o yer five senses ? Well, it was horrid, but we had to 
 rouse ye up. There ! Now ye feel better, don t ye ? 
 Now ye ain t so skeert ? See, it s me t s with ye look 
 up. Don t ye know me ?" 
 
 The words and tone were perfectly natural, for Phoebe 
 Ellen was altogether in earnest. She had forgotten every 
 thing but that her sister was weak and ill and terrified and 
 needed comfort and encouragement. There was no danger 
 of the doctor just then, for her strong and simple emotion 
 of pity excluded all consciousness of intrigue and wrong 
 doing, and had he chosen to read her thoughts, he would 
 have found nothing of which she need be ashamed. He 
 was, however, even more deeply occupied for the time 
 being than she. The explosion of the gun in his vicinity 
 had given his nerves a shock which, had he estimated its 
 intensity beforehand, he would have avoided by flight. 
 He felt shattered, unable to concentrate his thoughts 
 upon anything, least of all upon an experiment in mind- 
 reading whose outcome was at best problematic. 
 
 He sank into a chair and lay there gasping and quiver 
 ing. 
 
 " Good Lord, Tinker !" he finally cried, still holding his 
 hands to his ears. " What kind of a gun do you carry, 
 anyway ? It couldn t be anything less than a mountain 
 howitzer !" 
 
 Sam did not answer or notice. His eyes were upon the 
 patient, who had nestled closer and closer to Phoebe Ellen, 
 until, as if vaguely assured of her safety, she began to wail in 
 
 a strange, high key, like the cry of a little child when the 
 10 
 
 
146 
 
 world first comes in contact with it and makes it suffer. 
 It was pitiful, but uncanny. Sam listened with a sense 
 of chill, as to something supernatural ; but even as he lis 
 tened, the unused voice deepened, the wail shattered itself 
 into sobs, and the weeping of the woman was audible where 
 the wail of the child had been. 
 
 " That is horrible I" cried Sam, turning to the doctor 
 for an explanation. " What does it mean ?" 
 
 The consumptive had recovered sufficiently to speak, 
 though brokenly. 
 
 " It means that her crying is typical of everything in 
 her future ; that her mind is utterly gone ; that she has 
 become a child again " 
 
 " That she won t never know nothin , ye mean ?" 
 
 " She will learn some things some very simple things ; 
 but they will be like her crying she will begin them as 
 a child, and sometimes, not always, will carry them to the 
 condition of that womanhood which she has lost. She 
 must begin everything over again, and the point she will 
 be able to attain can only be a matter of conjecture/ 5 
 
 Phoebe Ellen uttered an involuntary cry of protest. 
 
 "You seem to care," he said, evidently remembering 
 something he had fancied he had read in her thoughts 
 days ago. 
 
 " Care ?" she cried, indignantly. " Ain t she my 
 sister ?" 
 
 " Queer !" she heard him mutter once more. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 < ARTER all, it s wot I expected/ said Phoebe Ellen, after 
 a pause. She began to remember that the doctor was her 
 enemy, and that she had to look out for him ; but after 
 glancing him over, it became evident that she had nothing 
 to fear. He was too shattered to exert his power, what 
 ever its nature or object ; his voice shook when he tried 
 to speak, and the vacant stammer of weakness interrupted 
 his words. 
 
 " We orter be thankful even fer so much," said Sam, in 
 a low voice. "I m glad to have er alive on any terms." 
 
 "It s better n I expected," Phoebe Ellen declared. 
 
 "Hang that gun of yours !" chattered the doctor. "It 
 struck the house like a clap of thunder. The least you 
 can do now is to help me to my room. Great heavens ! 
 Why not kill a man at once ? I can t walk !" 
 
 " Shall I kerry ye ?" asked Sam, as if it were a matter of 
 every-day occurrence to carry full-grown men about the 
 house. And without waiting for an answer he lifted the 
 consumptive and settled him in one arm as if he had been 
 a baby. 
 
 The doctor half grinned, but did not rebel. 
 
 " Thanks," he said. " If I had your strength I d move 
 the world. There s some brandy in my room that will set 
 me up again. Heavens, what shoulders you have ! If 
 she wants to go to sleep after this," he had turned to 
 Phoebe Ellen with his thin face in proximity to Sam s big 
 neck, "you may let her. It will be a natural sleep, and 
 she will awake from it naturally. I sha n t see her again 
 for some little time I shall have enough to do to get over 
 
148 
 
 the effects of that infernal gun. What s the use of a 
 man s carrying a whole Fourth of July around in a gun- 
 barrel, anyway ?" 
 
 " Ye re shore she ll never be erself agin ?" Phoabe El 
 len asked as the two men reached the door. The question 
 came*of itself, and a thrill of dread went through her be 
 fore it had passed her lips lest the doctor should detect 
 the eager hope behind it. 
 
 But he noticed nothing. 
 
 " Sure/ he answered. And then Sam bore him from 
 the room, a creature who seemed made up of nothing but 
 staring eyes and dangling arms and legs. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen found herself alone with her sister, but 
 with none of the elation she had expected to feel at the 
 final settlement of all her doubts. She had expected to 
 rise from that assurance serene and dominant, with a 
 scope of established power which would embrace the en 
 tire future and make life delightful. But with her arms 
 about the sick girl, and the sound of her subsiding sobs 
 in her ears, she could feel nothing but a great pity for 
 the ruined life upon which her own prosperity was to be 
 built. 
 
 " Pore sis! pore sis !" she kept repeating with genuine 
 sorrow. And in the same breath she was thinking, " I m 
 mistress o the ranch now. Sam s the overseer. We ll 
 run it together us two !" 
 
 She would be good to Anny poor Anny, who had lost 
 so much and who would never be herself again. But the 
 generous outrush of loving protection was never altogeth 
 er unhindered in its course by another thought. "I ll 
 have a heap better chance with Sam now. He liked sis I 
 know he did. But he d never think o marryin a idiot." 
 
 At last Army s sobs subsided into short, sharp catches 
 of the breath in the throat ; finally these, too, became less 
 vehement, and only an agitated rising and falling of the 
 breast remained of the sick girl s terror. Her eyes had 
 
149 
 
 not closed, and there was no symptom of sleep in the staring 
 orbs ; neither was there sign of intelligent consciousness. 
 The vital functions were all alive and active, but behind 
 the physical awakening the intellect lay dead shocked 
 into inactivity, like some delicate piece of mechanism 
 when dropped, though still unbroken. 
 
 i S posin I try to see if she knows anything/ thought 
 Phoebe Ellen. " She s shorely awake, V I reckon she 
 ain t tired. I ll see." 
 
 She held the girl off at arm s-length and looked at her. 
 
 " If I could make er see me, she might reco nize me in 
 spite o the doctor," she thought. " N then where ud I 
 be ?" 
 
 She brought her face into focus with the wide-open 
 eyes, determined to make them see her. But they only 
 stared, they did not notice. 
 
 Then she began to speak. 
 
 " Look at me, sis," she said. "No, not there \" The 
 sightless eyes turned indifferently towards the wall or the 
 ceiling as the head rolled helplessly about. Phoebe Ellen 
 braced the flaccid neck against her arm, and steadied the 
 head so that the eyes looked fully into hers. "There! 
 Can t ye see me now ?" 
 
 She might as well have talked to a stick or a stone, but 
 the effort of speech steadied her own actions and made 
 them logical. " If she kin be made to notice, I m goin 
 to make er do it," she thought. " Pore sis ! I mus* 
 learn er all I kin, fer she ll be less trouble. Besides, 
 she ll be happier ; n I want er to git back all she kin 
 thout makin it too warm fer me." 
 
 She tried a dozen different ways of attracting the girl s 
 attention, and gradually, as she gazed into the unrespon 
 sive eyes, she caught a hint of life in the slumbering soul ; 
 an atom of intelligence, manifesting itself, as it were, in 
 a point of life far back in the brain, a spark flickering 
 faintly out of the depths of vacancy. It grew to a speck, 
 
 
150 
 
 a luminous blur which the gazer could be sure of. It 
 wavered, turned back, swayed aside, seemed all but lost. 
 There was nothing clear and definite about it. But it 
 was intelligent and responsive. It seemed in search of 
 something. 
 
 "She sees me," said Phoebe Ellen to herself. "But 
 she don t look like she knows me." 
 
 She moved a little to one side ; the luminous speck fol 
 lowed her. She drew back ; it followed her still. 
 
 "The doctor s right," she concluded. "She won t be 
 a fool, but she s got to begin all over. That bright little 
 spark in er eyes kin be made to grow. But how much ? 
 That s the question." 
 
 She varied her experiment in many ways, and was re 
 joiced as a mother is in watching a child s first efforts at 
 attention ; but even in the midst of her pleasure came the 
 wickedly calculating thought : " The spark won t grow 
 too big fer my convenience ; I m dead shore o that, fer 
 the doctor told me. But if it should " 
 
 She glanced away from her sister and fetched a deep 
 breath. 
 
 " If it should I could find a way to stop it." 
 
 Again she fixed her eyes upon the sick girl with kindly 
 interest. 
 
 "She ll soon foller things," she thought. "She don t 
 tire nothin like s quick s wot a baby does. N I ll do 
 my best to learn er I reely will. The best won t be 
 nothin t 11 tell agin me. It s a God s blessin she kin 
 learn. I reckon it won t be no great shakes, nohow. 9 W 
 I ll do my dooty by er, wotever comes." 
 
 Satisfied with her experiments thus far, she determined 
 to go further. She lifted one of the limp hands and held 
 it up in the girl s range of vision. After a minute s vague 
 search the wandering eyes found it, and examined it with 
 the gravity of a child who has just discovered its fingers. 
 Phoabe Ellen let the hand go, and it fell helplessly upon 
 
151 
 
 the bedclothes ; the eyes tried to follow it, but failed, 
 and gazed about with a puzzled expression. The experi 
 ment was repeated two or three times, and finally the eyes 
 followed the hand in its fall, and rested curiously upon it 
 where it lay upon the bed-coverings. Two or three times 
 more Phoebe Ellen lifted it and dropped it, with the re 
 sult that the eyes were able to keep it in view, but each 
 time with increasing quickness. Finally the invalid, in 
 stead of letting her hand fall, held it aloft when Phoebe 
 Ellen released it, and the eyes examined it with sober 
 curiosity while the fingers worked a little. Then a slow 
 smile overspread the features, whose vacancy had given 
 place to an inquiring seriousness not a smile of appreci 
 ation nor one demanding sympathy, but a smile which 
 vaguely recognized the first successful outworking of the 
 individual will. It was very pitiful that childish smile 
 on the mature features of the woman. 
 
 All this time Phoebe Ellen had been sustaining her sister 
 in an erect position by her right arm, but now she gradu 
 ally withdrew that support, being careful to leave the sit 
 ting figure in balance. But her care was ineffectual, the 
 form wavered and would have fallen had she not caught 
 it once more and eased it down among the pillows. 
 
 "Pore thing !" she thought, with a great pity. "She s 
 even got to learn to set alone !" 
 
 She had expected some demonstration of fear from the 
 toppling sensation which must have been experienced by 
 the invalid, but there came no stronger expression into 
 the face than a vaguely puzzled look, which gradually set 
 tled into the level lines of content as the stable softness 
 of the pillows became a thing to rely upon. Phoebe Ellen 
 did not disturb her again. 
 
 " I mustn t tire er/ she thought. " That s nough fer 
 this time." 
 
 And she leaned forward, gazing with an almost motherly 
 tenderness into the half -conscious, wide eyes. The look 
 
152 
 
 of content on the invalid s face deepened as Phoebe Ellen 
 gazed, and took on something more spiritual than the 
 animal satisfaction which had been visible when she first 
 settled back among the pillows. 
 
 " Kin it be she s learnin to keer fer me ?" thought 
 Phoebe Ellen, with a strange thrill. " If she should, I 
 b lieve I could like er better n I done when she was 
 well. But it ud be queer most like she was my own 
 child !" 
 
 With a sudden impulse of tenderness she lifted Anny s 
 hand and laid the palm to her cheek, rubbing it softly 
 about. Then she left the hand to itself. For a moment 
 it remained there, then it stirred softly, moving back and 
 forth. And Phoebe Ellen saw that she was smiling con 
 tentedly, and with a new expression in her eyes. 
 
 " She s learnin to keer fer me !" she thought, with de 
 light. 
 
 She bent over and kissed her on mouth and forehead 
 an act of demonstrative fondness of which she had riot 
 been guilty for years. Then she rose, rubbed her eyes, 
 and moved aimlessly about the room. 
 
 "I ll be good to her !" she kept repeating to herself. 
 
 Presently she thought of feeding her, and went into the 
 kitchen to have Leatherhead prepare some gruel. When 
 she came back, Anny was still awake. 
 
 Then she fed her, and the gruel was devoured greedily. 
 
 "That s right," was Phoebe Ellen s approving comment. 
 " N now it ud be best fer her to go to sleep." And 
 she adjusted the limp head upon the pillow and left her. 
 Then she went out into the kitchen to leave the empty 
 gruel-bowl, and when she came back the invalid was fast 
 asleep. 
 
 By-and-by Sam came in to inquire after the patient, 
 and they two stood by the bedside and discussed the case 
 in whispers. 
 
 " By-the-way," said Sam, when they had exhausted 
 
153 
 
 their subject, " Pete Hawkins was over ere to-day, and 
 he says Pinky s sick." 
 
 "Pinky? Oh yes. Pinky Rose ?" 
 
 " Ye d fergot im ?" smiled Sam. 
 
 "Well, ye must own up Fve been purty busy. Much 
 sick ? I hope not." 
 
 "A bad cold. He wanted Pete to tell ye, so t ye 
 wouldn t think it queer he hadn t been over." 
 
 "Oh, / wouldn t think it queer. I wouldn t think 
 nothin bout it." 
 
 "Well, it s purty plain he was thinkin bout it. He 
 hopes to be over in a few days." 
 
 " Oh, well. course. I ll be glad to see im." 
 
 "Is she puttin that on ?" wondered Sam. "Or is it 
 simon-pure don t-care ?" 
 
 " Tain t noways likely nobody 11 have to set up with 
 er agin," said Phoebe Ellen, dismissing Pinky with a jerk 
 of her head in Anny s direction. "She ll prob ly go to 
 sleep early in the evenin n rest like a child till mornin ." 
 
 After that, Sam went out to the barn to take his nap, 
 and Phoebe Ellen sat down by the window for a period of 
 self-communion. 
 
 "I wonder if he reckons I m in love with Pinky Rose," 
 she meditated. "If he does, he s mistook, that s all. 
 To be shore, Pinky ain t so bad s wot he might be ; a 
 woomarn could manage im thout any trouble. Yes, he d 
 be a reg lar lamb f er managin ; n that s the kind o man 
 I d marry if I hadn t ruther have one t could manage me. 
 Well, they s plenty o time to settle that." 
 
 She leaned against the window-frame, gazing out at the 
 rocks and shadows. 
 
 "Things seems to be comin jes my way," she con 
 tinued. "I ve got everything I planned fer the ranch 11 
 everything, n nobody to say a word agin it. Nobody but 
 the doctor, n he don t count ; I m ekal to forty consump 
 tive doctors from Boston, n he knows it. Nobody 11 ever 
 
154 
 
 guess the truth about the bizness. How queer to have a 
 secret like that, thout the least chance o its gittin out ! 
 The only chance is through him V sech a little chance ! 
 He ll go back to Halstead s now ; V when I see irn, as I 
 reckon Fll have to wunst in a while, I ll keep my wits 
 about me, n if I can t hold im down, my name is Anny 
 Thompson fer shore ! Somehow I don t feel sot up like 
 I reckoned I d be. I wonder how that is ? Mebbe it s 
 cause I m so downright sorry fer sis t I can t reely take 
 in the meanin o the rest. Then, too, pears like it jes 
 come nat ral fer me to own the ranch. Wot if I d pizened 
 er that mornin when the idee come into my head ?" She 
 shivered at the thought. " Then I would V had suthin 
 to think about. But now I ain t done nobody no harm. 
 She couldn t see to things nohow, not if it was known t 
 everything b longed to er. The bossin"ud fall on me jes 
 s much s it will now when everybody b lieves the hull 
 thing is mine. N so everything s all right, n nobody 11 
 ever know. Queer, how Pinky took me fer Anny from the 
 start. N Sam, too. Tears like they was a kind o Prov 
 idence in it." 
 
 She stirred restlessly at the window and began to beat 
 a tattoo on the pane. 
 
 "I don t feel like sewin jes yet. Wot shall I do ? Say 
 wot a idiot I be, anyhow ! Here I ve been ere four 
 days V ain t been over the house yit, V ain t got no 
 more idee o wot s in it beyend the kitchen n s if it 
 b longed to the Queen o Sheeby. That s jes wot I ll 
 do I ll go n take a look at the rooms while sis is 
 sleepinV 
 
 In the aspect of the house she found little either to 
 praise or condemn. " It s s good & wot ye could expeck 
 from a passel o men keepin house together/ was her 
 comment. Somewhere in the rear of the house, however, 
 she heard a noise above her which attracted her attention. 
 A trap-door was open in the ceiling, evidently leading to 
 
155 
 
 a garret. She placed one hand on the ladder, and stood 
 gazing up and listening. 
 
 "Who s there ?" she called, as she once more heard 
 some one moving. 
 
 " Oh, it s Leatherhead," she concluded, recognizing the 
 irregular, irresponsible tread. 
 
 A moment later he appeared at the trap-door. 
 
 "Oh, tripe I" he called down. " That you ? Anything 
 wanted ?" 
 
 "Nothin ," was her answering call. "Wot ye doin up 
 there ?" 
 
 "I was lookin arter some o the doctor s truck. Want 
 to come up V see ? The ladder s safe s Moffatt s Bank." 
 
 " Truck ? Wot kind o truck ?" She was already as 
 cending the ladder, and in a moment was peering into the 
 garret on a level with Leatherhead s feet. 
 
 The place was dimly illuminated by four small dusty 
 panes of glass at the far end. There was absolutely noth 
 ing to be seen but small heaps of weeds, which seemed to 
 have been spread out here and there for the purpose of 
 drying. 
 
 " Oh, that stuff," added Phoebe Ellen, after taking in 
 the room and its contents. "Wot is it ?" 
 
 " Oh, say !" objected Leatherhead. " You know wot 
 that is. Everybody knows loco-weed." 
 
 " Never heerd o it afore. Loco-weed ?" 
 
 " Well, tripe ! Never heerd o loco-weed ? It grows 
 everywheres." 
 
 " Wot s it fer, anyhow?" 
 
 " Well, ye d know if ye seen a steer t happened to git a 
 holt o a wad o it by mistake. To see im hump V throw 
 hisself, V stop V glare like he seen a ghost, then fling 
 his heels in the air 11 snort n nourish his tail ! Well ! 
 Loco-weed is wot sets the cattle crazy that s wot. Jest 
 a little while afore ye come " 
 
 " No matter ! Wot s the doctor dryin it fer ?" 
 
156 
 
 " He s agoin to send a lot o it to Boston to a friend to 
 find out wot s in it to make the cattle go crazy. He got 
 me to gather it fer im he says it grows ranker ere n 
 _over to Halstead s." 
 
 " Find out wot s in it ? How kin they do that ?" 
 
 "Why," said Leatherhead, with an educational air, 
 " it s the chemistry. That s wot he said the chemistry. 
 I tuck it he meant the colorin o the leaf, but anyways 
 that s wot he said. To pay express on a lot o weeds like 
 that, clear to Boston say ! He give me a half a dollar, 
 though, chemistry or no chemistry. N that s suthin a 
 feller don t find rollin up hill every day !" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen meditated. 
 
 " lid the stuff make folks crazy, too, <T ye know ?" 
 
 { Folks ? I never heerd, but I don t see why not. Is 
 folks stronger n steers t the same truck won t set ern off 
 their heads ? Excuse me from havin it tried on me /" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen went back to the room where Anny lay. 
 She stood examining her sister for some time. 
 
 " That *ud be better n pizen," she finally muttered, 
 half aloud. "But wot makes me think o sech things 
 now ? It s all settled they ain t no danger any more. 
 Good Lord, wot a sinner I m gittiii to be !" 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 IT is usually believed that the consequences of evil- 
 doing lie in the direction of the deed; that the moral 
 state following a wicked act is retrograde, and that a bad 
 action is the harbinger of worse. This is true up to the 
 point of reaction ; by which is meant the point at which 
 wickedness sees no advantage in becoming more wicked, 
 but rather in curtailing itself and assuming, in appear 
 ance at least, the qualities of its shining opposite. Some 
 sinners never attain even to the semblance of virtue, be 
 cause the devil appears to them in many shapes and offers 
 them rewards beyond the attainment of even moderate 
 respectability ; and it is to the sinful persistence of this 
 class that the proverb owes its force and value. But to 
 the majority of mankind evil beyond evil assumes a threat 
 ening aspect, and we assume a virtue though we have it 
 not, from very fear. 
 
 Something of this sort happened to Phoebe Ellen. The 
 assurance of an established position at the ranch softened 
 and sweetened her, Sam noticed the change, and, though 
 he had been by no means predisposed in her favor, was 
 obliged to admit that she was changing for the better. 
 She was less assertive, less inclined to dominate, less in 
 sistent on rising to the emergency when the emergency 
 was not there. She was gentler, more pliable. Her voice 
 grew less strenuous in self-assertion ; the habitual line of 
 her mouth became horizontal, with a more frequent up 
 ward curve ; her eyes looked less hard and defiant ; in 
 talking, she struggled into a more frequent comprehen- 
 
158 
 
 sion of other people s views ; and when she argued she in 
 sisted less on her own way than on the way that was right 
 or expedient. She did little things for people which she 
 had never thought of doing before. She scolded a good 
 deal that is, for an average woman, but for herself it 
 was hardly more than the feeble survival of a habit, and 
 no one minded. In Colorado it is tacitly admitted that 
 everybody one meets is a "crank/ and worse offences 
 than mere words arrange themselves easily on that basis. 
 But it was noticeable that Phoebe Ellen never scolded 
 Sam. Leatherhead and the boys on the range had their 
 opinions as to the cause of this partiality, and it must be 
 admitted that their judgment was based on sound induc 
 tions. They had heard of Sam s victory at the depot 
 which coincided with their preconceived notion of the 
 condition under which a high-spirited woman ought to 
 fall in love. She sewed on his buttons, and had been 
 seen brushing his sombrero for him. She gave him 
 a smoky -topaz charm for his watch-chain a trinket 
 which had belonged to her dead brother; and in fact 
 showed an open preference for him which placed the state 
 of her affections altogether outside the realm of mere sur 
 mise. And it was noted with no less interest that there 
 was nothing in Sam s treatment of her that would lead 
 her to imagine him a victim of her wealth and softening 
 charms. 
 
 It would be impossible to say how much of Phoebe 
 Ellen s improved manner depended upon her regard for 
 Sam ; probably it was considerable ; for the most busi 
 ness-like of women becomes gentle in proportion as her 
 heart is engaged. But there was another element in the 
 complex of mental and moral processes which lay at the 
 root of the change, and that was conscience. Phoebe 
 Ellen s conscience was of the passive sort which makes no 
 trouble as long as it is let alone ; it sought no occasion 
 for remorse ; it never stirred without being prodded, and 
 
159 
 
 then only in the direction of the prod. It was an easily 
 satisfied conscience, and she had never known the time 
 when she could not appease it by the performance of a 
 good deed of about the same dimensions as a bad one. 
 The only good deed possible, in view of the secret wrong 
 she was doing her sister, was to take the best possible 
 care of the invalid, and by a sort of reflection of this 
 generosity upon those in the neighborhood, look to it 
 that she should not be the aggressor in any difficul 
 ties which might arise. The transaction was purely a 
 commercial one. Her conscience had permitted her 
 to wrong her sister, and in return her conscience re 
 quired her to treat her sister well in which process 
 were included all those who might be indirectly con 
 cerned in Anny s wrongs. It was as easy as a sum in 
 arithmetic. 
 
 The doctor remained five days at the ranch, and then 
 returned to Halstead s. There was nothing further for 
 him to do, he said everything now depended on Phoebe 
 Ellen s nursing. He shook hands with her at parting, as 
 any ordinary visitor might have done, and showed no in 
 clination to return to his mind-reading experiments. If 
 anything was to come of his power it would have to occur 
 in the future. She gloated over the idea that she had com 
 pletely mystified him and that he had no data for imme 
 diate action. 
 
 When he was gone she went immediately to the kitchen 
 in search of Leatherhead. 
 
 " Did he take that truck with im ?" she demanded, 
 looking in from the threshold. 
 
 Leatherhead looked up from his scrubbing. 
 
 " Oh, tripe !" he said, rolling his eyes up at her in 
 surprised questioning. " Truck ? Say, wot truck ?" 
 
 " Them weeds up garret." 
 
 " That loco ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
160 
 
 " He toot wot he wanted with im under the seat o the 
 buckboard. Ain t that all right ?" 
 
 " Yes. But why didn t he take it all ?" 
 
 " More n he wanted," nodded Leatherhead. 
 
 " N the rest s up there now ?" 
 
 "Jesso." 
 
 " Wot be ye goin to do with it ?" 
 
 "Pitch it out arter I git through scrubbin . Ain t that 
 right ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes. That s right. Pitch the stuff out. / don t 
 want it layin aroun ." 
 
 And she hurried away. But on her way through the 
 back of the house she passed the ladder leading into the 
 loft and paused to look up. 
 
 " I might go n see how much he left/ she thought, 
 with her foot on the lower round. 
 
 In a moment she was at the top, peering in. 
 
 "I wonder how it feels V smells," was her next 
 thought. "It mus be powerful funny stuff." 
 
 And before she was fairly aware of it, she was examin 
 ing the curious plant by the light of the window. 
 
 She did not remain long, however. "Wot if Leather- 
 head was to come V find me ere ?" she thought, " lid 
 he think I was slippin some o it into my apron to dope 
 sis with if she should ever come to erself ? No ; I ll go 
 right down." 
 
 And she hurried from the spot. But not so quickly but 
 that, almost in spite of herself, she seized a bunch of the 
 dried weed on the way to the trap -door and wrapped 
 it up in her apron. 
 
 No one was in sight on the lower floor. "I ll make 
 some more ginger-snaps fer sis, to pay fer this," she 
 thought. "She was powerful tickled with the ones I 
 give er yistiddy n this mornin . I ll keep em on hand 
 fer er, bein she likes em so. I don t b lieve they re bad 
 fer the stnmmick." 
 

 161 
 
 And she hurried down the ladder to the room where 
 the sick girl was sitting up in bed. 
 
 "Where 11 I put the stuff?" was her next thought. 
 " Oh, I know. I kin hide it in my valise n lock it. Pore 
 sis ! Don t she look innercent a-settin there ? God fer- 
 bid t I should ever have to use the truck ! I kin throw 
 it away when I feel dead shore. I ll go n 7 git er a gin 
 ger-snap now ; she likes to hold em in er hands 11 mum 
 ble em, pore thing !" 
 
 After that the days settled down into the wholesome 
 monotony of regular occupations. Pinky got over his 
 cold sufficiently to come and see her, though his nose and 
 eyes were a sight to behold ; and, not being able to work, 
 she insisted that he should remain two days, during which 
 time she dosed him with hot lemonade and whiskey, 
 much to his satisfaction. After that he came over regu 
 larly twice a week, and an established friendship grew up 
 between them. Phoebe Ellen always received him famil 
 iarly, but she did not permit the immediate and unbound 
 ed intimacy which her first profuse invitations had prom 
 ised. However, he accepted with equanimity the distance 
 she placed between them. It was never so great but that 
 he believed he could see across it. A girl like Phoebe 
 Ellen was not to be won in a moment. She was worth 
 waiting for she and her property and he was content to 
 let her manage the affair to her own liking. It is not 
 necessarily to be inferred that Pinky was a mercenary 
 wretch who would not have looked at her a second time 
 Avithout the ranch as a substantial background to her 
 charms. There are people in this world in good society, 
 too, I have heard the dimensions of whose affections can 
 be measured only by the length of a bank account ; and 
 without the application of such means of measurement it 
 would probably never be suspected that they had affec 
 tions at all. For all of which inasmuch as it is love 
 alone which makes the world bearable we ought to be 
 
162 
 
 devoutly thankful to the bank account for adding appre 
 ciably to the sum of tender sentiment in the world, in 
 stead of condemning it for multiplying the deceitfulness 
 of human relations. As for Pinky, he admired Phoebe 
 Ellen tremendously and her property in an equal degree 
 with herself. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ON~E day Leatherhead came to the front of affairs. He 
 claimed the fulfilment of Phoebe Ellen s promise to take 
 the care of the kitchen upon herself and let him out on 
 the range. 
 
 By this time it had become a habit of hers to talk over 
 all her difficulties with Sam. 
 
 " I don t seem to see how I kin git along thout im," 
 she said, anxiously, after reciting the circumstances. 
 " W yit I ve give im my promise, V I can t go back on 
 that. N it s time I was livin up to it if I m goin to. 
 But sis takes sech a orfle lot o my time " 
 
 The giant turned slowly in her direction, as if to study 
 her face. 
 
 " D ye begrudge it to er ?" he inquired. 
 
 " Begrudge it ? Good land, no !" 
 
 He gave a lurch away from her, as if satisfied with his 
 examination. 
 
 " She don t git no more o yer time n she needs. 
 That s where yer time b longs, jes now." 
 
 " Ye-es, I know. But I can t be with her V in the 
 kitchen at the same time." 
 
 " That s plain," was his form of assent. 
 
 " Then wot be I goin to do ?" 
 
 " He go out on the range !" said the cowboy, with a 
 snort and a laugh. 
 
 " He thinks he kin, n that s jes s bad till he tries it. 
 I could do some o the kitchen-work I d like to. He 
 might help with the washin n ironin " 
 
 " W bakin ," put in Sam. 
 
 
164 
 
 " Ye pin a orfle lot o faith to Leather-head s bread," 
 smiled Phoebe Ellen. " N I own he beats me. But all 
 the same I don t see but wot we ve got to let im try cow- 
 boyin leastways fer a while. N sis 11 have to go neg 
 lected." 
 
 " No, not that. She s got to be took keer of, wotever 
 comes. Neglectin her don t go." 
 
 "Well, wot then?" 
 
 " S posin we let im try cowboyin ," suggested Sam, 
 with an enigmatic grin. 
 
 " Let im try it ?" 
 
 " Jesso." 
 
 " But he ll like it ! Ye don t reckon he wouldn t like 
 it?" 
 
 " I kin settle his stummick fer im," said Sam, with a 
 series of slow nods, " in less n a pair o minutes. Leave 
 it to me." 
 
 " Ye mean" 
 
 " Ye know Eeddy ?" 
 
 " Reddy the Brick ?" 
 
 "The wust bucker on the hull Rio Grande. Well, 
 Leatherhead don t know im. That might be a advan 
 tage see ?" 
 
 " Ye don t mean ye re goin to turn Leatherhead loose 
 on Reddy ?" 
 
 "No ; I m goin to turn Reddy loose on Leatherhead." 
 
 " But the danger they is danger ?" 
 
 " The beast 11 jerk knots in im !" 
 
 " N if he was to die?" 
 
 "I ll see to that. He deserves a sound bumpin , the 
 way he s been takin on bout his cowboy fixin s. He s 
 been collectin lariats n sombreros n chaps n cuerts, like 
 he was goin to perform in a circus with a pack o gals 
 gawpin at im from the benches. I kin cure im n keep 
 im in the kitchen at the same time ; only don t say a 
 word." 
 
165 
 
 And with that he left her. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen knew when the experiment came off, for 
 Sam told her ; but Leatherhead s appearance would have 
 proclaimed the fact to the world had all other portents 
 failed. She saw him in all the glory of his cowboy para 
 phernalia pass out at the front door, turn the corner, and 
 disappear behind the barn. " All the boys 11 be there to 
 laff at im, fer Sam s made a sort o party o it," she 
 thought. " But I m glad it s out o sight o the winders. 
 I don t want to see the pore chap hurt." 
 
 She heard all about it afterwards from Sam and the 
 others, but Leatherhead s own account was by far the 
 most graphic. He looked forlorn enough on his return. 
 He had lost his sombrero and cuert ; his red silk neck 
 erchief the pride of his heart was twisted with a knot 
 behind, so that a triangle of it covered his breast like a 
 bib ; his lariat was trailing in the dust ; his leather shirt 
 was torn ; his chaps were unbuckled and hung flapping 
 from the waist; he carried his cartridge-belt and pistol 
 in his hand, and there was blood about his nose, and dirt 
 011 every conceivable corner and line of his body. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen saw him coming, and ran out upon the 
 veranda in some alarm to meet him. But a single glance 
 assured her that he was more scared than hurt. 
 
 "Tell ye bout it ?" he replied, in answer to her ques 
 tion, flinging himself upon the floor and thrusting his 
 cartridge-belt and pistol from him as if the sight of them 
 made him sick. " Oh, wait till I ketch my breath !" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen smiled. 
 
 "Ye couldn t make it go, then ?" she asked. 
 
 He turned over on his side and eyed her gloomily. 
 
 " Wot d ye mean by it?" he asked. 
 
 "The bronco, o course." 
 
 He settled back with a groan. 
 
 " Make it go ? Great gum ! Ye orter V seen it make 
 me go ! Was ye ever on top o one o them things ?" 
 
166 
 
 " No, never." 
 
 "It ud scare the soul out o ye! W don t ye do it 
 thout ye ve got four hull foot-hills to fasten his feet to. 
 W to think o the way I went up there V skipped into 
 the saddle, s airy n light s if I was made o pure joy 
 n, well ! D 7 ye reckon all broncos is like that ?" 
 
 He gave a lame kick at one of the ranch dogs that came 
 sniffing about his feet. 
 
 "Was it so bad ?" 
 
 " Bad ? Well, say tripe ! I should admire to see any 
 thing wuss, / should ! Bad ? If ye had a private grave 
 yard anywheres on the place I d go V crawl into it V 
 never say a word. Ye see, it was jes like this : I got 
 into the saddle s fine s silk, n the critter stood like a 
 ewe lamb till I swung my right leg over V got both feet 
 in the stirrups n the reins taut in both ban s ; V then 
 oh, tripe ! wot happened ? I d know, I can t tell ; but 
 it happened, wotever t was it happened all to wunst, V 
 all over me !" 
 
 "It must a been bad," said Phoebe Ellen, shutting 
 down on her smile and speaking with sympathy. 
 
 " Well, sech grand V lofty tumblin you never seen, I 
 kin take my dyin oath o that ! I shot up into the air 
 like a hull box o giant-powder d gone off accidental 
 under me. I did, s shore s I m a child o Sin. I went 
 up, straight up, fer ten minutes, I know I did. I had 
 time to think o all my sins, n wonder which mountain- 
 top I was comin down on. I was so high up I could see 
 all over Halstead s ranch, V count the cattle on the 
 range. N Joe was gittin out the cracky V riggin the 
 red cayuse into it, n ole Mis Halstead was waitin by the 
 pigpen to go somers, with er bunnit on. ( Ain t I never 
 goin to start down ? says I to myself. N peared like 
 it ud be a kinder lonely life to stay up there ferever. But 
 when I come down oh, say, the air n the lonesomeness 
 was pure joy arter that ! N it was the queerest thing 
 
167 
 
 that dam beast had shifted so s to git right under me, 
 n I landed fair V square on top o the very saddle Fd 
 shot out of half a hour afore ! It cracked my liver. N 
 there was all the boys a-laffin at me V Sam along o the 
 rest. I never thort the like o that o Sam. Oh, Lord, wot 
 a smash they was when I struck ! I made shore I was goin 
 s far down into the airth s wot I d been above it, but 
 somehow I stayed in the saddle. Well, I hadn t much 
 more n struck till tripe ! if that bronco don t do bizness 
 by lightnin ! Up I started agin, n says I to myself, I ve 
 got a better start this time, 11 I reckon I m in fer a longer 
 v yage. I felt the blood a-runnin out o my heart like a 
 augur-hole d been bored in the bottom o it. But I kep 
 on goin up. N when I come down, that hoss struck me 
 like a pile-driver workin wrong end up, n back I went 
 into the air agin, seein stars n wishin I was dead. Talk 
 about earthquakes ! I had them all the way up to the 
 stoppin -place V back agin, n they was jes fun. But 
 the landin on the saddle oh, say ! I d know how long I 
 was circussin aroun atween that bronco s back 11 the 
 sky I don t want to know. The bare thort o it wears 
 me out. But sech a churnin s I got ! Every rib in my 
 body s busted I kin feel the broken ends raspin to 
 gether here in front. 7 
 
 He drew himself into a sitting position and braced 
 himself with one hand against the floor. 
 
 " Gimme my dish-rag n let me go back to the kitchen!" 
 he cried, tragically. " That sort o life s good nough fer 
 me!" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen suppressed her laughter. 
 
 " Don t take it to heart," she soothed. Good Ian , ye 
 ain t the first human t s got into a scrape, n ye won t be 
 the last. They s fun in life yit !" 
 
 " But the boys" 
 
 "I ll see to it t they let ye lone bout it. Go V lay 
 down. I ll have Sam give ye a rubbin with liniment, V 
 
168 
 
 ye ll be fresh s a rose by mornin . Don t take it to heart. 
 It 11 come all right I" 
 
 Leatherhead rose stiffly. He regarded her a moment in 
 a sort of bursting silence, then cried out, explosively : 
 
 "I allus swore ye was a trump card, n now I know it ! 
 W when I git over this, if I do a thing but stay aroun 
 the kitchen V wait on ye V drudge fer ye, my name s 
 
 And with that he fled into the house as fast as his dilapi 
 dated condition would permit. 
 
 " Well, that s settled," thought Phoebe Ellen, with satis 
 faction. "I ll help Leatherhead in the kitchen, o course 
 I like kitchen-work ; but sis has got to come in fust. 
 It s little nough I kin make o the pore critter at best. 
 But I ve got a good thing out o her, n if my time V 
 keer kin be o use to er she s goin to have em. It s only 
 fair." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 So time went on till August. The gray slopes of 
 mountain-sage had taken a golden tinge from their hang 
 ing ball-blossoms ; the wild sunflowers sent thrills of vivid 
 color along the uplands ; and- the magenta of vetches was 
 washed in, like some dainty water-color, below the sombre 
 bases of the foot-hills. The mountains were more deeply 
 purple than they had been in June; at morning they seemed 
 but a deeper fringe on the flaring purple garment of the 
 sky ; and at certain hours of the afternoon, under those 
 lovely evanescent lights the secret of whose making the 
 sky only knows, they looked translucent, as if warmed and 
 lighted from within by shaded purple astrals. 
 
 The willows were as green as ever, a-droop over the 
 brown and gold of the shadowed water ; sociable little 
 groups of primroses danced together as the breeze passed ; 
 the groves of aspen on the mountain - side had not yet 
 turned to gold, but still met the advances of the wind 
 with those ecstatic, supersensitive shudders which make 
 them seem so emotional and human. They are like deli 
 cate consumptive girls whom a breath of air cannot touch 
 without setting them a-shiver. The only change one 
 noticed in the pines was that their melody had become 
 more thoughtful, as if the idea of the coming winter op 
 pressed them. 
 
 The oats had been harvested, and another crop, self- 
 sown like the first, was well under way. Its tender 
 verdure contrasted vividly with the misty gray of the 
 mountain-sage above it, and the harsh, faded green of the 
 potato-tops below. The corn was half grown by this time, 
 
170 
 
 and the musical clash of its long leaves made a pleasant 
 accompaniment to the mingled murmur of the river and 
 the pines. One who had time might climb to the sum 
 mit of the foot-hills it was not so steep as it looked and 
 lie down on a ready-made bed of pine-needles, with the 
 world at his feet and the sky very near ; and when he re 
 turned to the valley he would walk in awed silence, as if 
 he had just clasped hands with God. 
 
 The monotony of life at the ranch was broken only by 
 the visits of Pinky and the doctor. Phoebe Ellen had 
 assumed control of the kitchen, but on baking-days and 
 wash-days Leatherhead was in evidence ; at other times he 
 was busy about the stables and fields. She was a kind 
 mistress, and all the boys appreciated her ; vociferous, it 
 is true, in a sort of purposeless self-assertion, but careful 
 and attentive, and on the whole quite acceptable. She 
 had a business head which not only grasped principles but 
 details, and Sam himself had learned to yield her a meas 
 ure of admiration which he would have believed it im 
 possible to bestow upon a woman in command. The thing 
 that struck him as remarkable in his own relations with 
 her he was not sure, however, that it held true in her 
 relations with the other boys was the fact that she never 
 went "a-hennin* around"; she left him to do as he liked, 
 and accepted the results of his management as the ulti 
 mate good thing, beyond which her imagination could 
 picture nothing better. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen s chief problem was Pinky ; an emotional 
 problem, to be sure, and therefore, it might be thought, 
 one that would be easy of solution ; but hitherto Phoebe 
 Ellen s problems had all concerned material things, and she 
 had settled them with little or no regard for anything 
 higher than a momentary advantage, so that the irritating 
 complex which results from being obliged to look to the 
 sensibilities as a basis of solution had never imposed 
 itself upon the simple directness of her methods. But 
 
171 
 
 now there were many things to consider. She liked Pinky 
 and knew that he liked her a combination which, in her 
 experience, possessed the interest of novelty, to say the 
 least. She wanted Sam to see that people liked her, too. 
 (It always enhances the value of an article to know that 
 your neighbors are dying to possess it. ) But Pinky really 
 came over too often three times a week was too often, 
 considering that Sam was usually around. She couldn t 
 tell him to stop, either : first, because she wanted him to 
 come, and, secondly, because Sam would notice and begin 
 to wonder why she was unable to retain her admirers. 
 Not that Sam appeared to care about Pinky s visits ; on 
 the contrary, he cared too little altogether. If he had 
 only shown that he noticed and resented them, she would 
 have stopped them with all the joy in life. Or if he had 
 paid the slightest attention to other women, she would 
 have unfurled Pinky before his eyes, so to speak, and kept 
 him floating on the breeze from morning till night. But 
 Sam never seemed to know when women were around; that 
 was what puzzled Phoebe Ellen. And Freckled Mariar 
 and Snickeriri" Sal and all the other rustic beauties of the 
 region exerted their charms on him in vain. He cared 
 for Anny, she knew, but in a pitying way that was beyond 
 the reach of jealousy. His life was as open and simple as 
 the day. He went to bed early, got up early, rode with 
 the boys on the range in search of strayed cattle, looked 
 after the harvests, mended the fences, petted the dogs, 
 and smoked his pipe in utter content. Once in a while 
 he went to Eden City, got drunk with Pete Hawkins and 
 Pinky, and came home the next morning without the 
 least attempt to conceal what he had done. He felt the 
 need of an occasional "toot," and took it as simply and 
 naturally as he took his breakfast. 
 
 The doctor came over about once a week. He looked 
 more worn and haggard and nervous than ever. t( He ll 
 have to take mighty good keer o hisself if he keeps on 
 
172 
 
 top o the dirt six months longer," said Phoebe Ellen to 
 Sam. The Bostonian was deeply interested in Anny, and 
 kept watch of her progress with something as nearly like 
 affection as could be expected from a nature as distracted 
 as his. There were frequent conflicts between him and 
 Phcebe Ellen, though nothing so pronounced as what had 
 occurred when they first met. These were conflicts of 
 the eyes always, worked out in silence on the lines of sus 
 picion and menace. But he never again really got a 
 glimpse into her thoughts. Once or twice he had stood 
 on the horizon of her mind for a moment, but her will 
 had always risen like a tempest and driven him back. 
 Whenever he approached her she drew herself together 
 for resistance. It often occurred to her that she would 
 have had a much harder time of it had he been in perfect 
 health and possessed the strength dependent thereupon. 
 
 The two months since the accident had passed quietly 
 enough for every one except Anny. To her they amount 
 ed to years of growth and change. She had begun life 
 like a little child, her mind a blank, her past experiences 
 obliterated by that dreadful catastrophe, as pencil-marks 
 are rubbed off from a slate when a damp sponge is dashed 
 across them. The injury had gone deep to the very core 
 and centre of mental being. But she learned to sit alone, 
 to hold things, and finally to walk. At first she moved 
 about with difficulty, as a child does seizing hold of 
 near objects to steady herself, then taking a few tottering 
 steps alone, with now and then a fall, at which she laughed 
 or cried, according to her humor ; but later she walked 
 from place to place with the ease which comes of habit 
 and practice. Yet there was a lack of elasticity in all her 
 movements which only those could appreciate who had 
 known her before the accident. She dragged one foot 
 when she walked ; there was an uncertainty in her way of 
 reaching for things which the will alone had been unable 
 to overcome. It was as if the source of life had become 
 
173 
 
 muddied ; and though the power of movement remained, 
 there was none of the old grace and joy to animate it. 
 She could talk, but slowly and hesitatingly often ram- 
 blingly, as if the meaning of words corresponded but 
 vaguely to her ideas. Notions were a slow growth with 
 her, and she expressed them elliptically, as children do. 
 She sometimes tried to sing, but as often as not she lost 
 the melody, and her voice trailed away into queer, unmu 
 sical noises, which her ear failed to differentiate from the 
 tune she had in mind. She learned many useful house 
 hold tasks, and seemed to take pleasure in performing 
 them. She could wash the dishes and set them away on 
 the shelves very neatly ; she swept and dusted, she sewed 
 a little, she helped about the washing and ironing ; but 
 always Phoebe Ellen was near, as the guiding head, for 
 the afflicted girl could hold her attention to one thing but 
 a little while at a time unless some one was at hand to 
 admonish her. Sometimes while wiping the dishes she 
 would wander away with a plate in her hand, and set it 
 down in some unheard-of place, while she herself strolled 
 about among the pines, humming discordantly to herself 
 while she plucked flowers and berries from the mountain 
 side. Phoebe Ellen learned to have her eyes open for 
 these fits of abstraction, and when she found the poor 
 creature s mind wandering at her tasks she would recall 
 her, sometimes sharply, but never unkindly, and then 
 Anny would go on with her work w r ith a sort of vacant 
 gladness, never with resentment or pique. It was very 
 pitiful, but it was the best that could be done. The doc 
 tor had said the girl would do better to have something 
 to take her attention, and there was nothing outside the 
 common household tasks to answer the purpose. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen had been very constant and kind. It was 
 good to see her patiently explaining a more rational choice 
 of words than Anny made use of, and teaching her to make 
 consecutive sentences. She never lost her temper ; and 
 
174 
 
 if she sometimes brought her pupil sharply to time, it was 
 distinctly for the pupil s own good. In these efforts" to 
 restore to the injured brain something of its former 
 power, Sam was Phoebe Ellen s warm coadjutor. He spent 
 all his spare time with the unfortunate., patiently trying to 
 give her more definite conceptions of things. It was a 
 task that he loved, that he would not have dispensed with 
 for the world ; but it was sad, too, and the great creature 
 was frequently observed wiping his eyes, while his pupil 
 looked on in grieved and gentle wonder ; and sometimes 
 he had to leave her till he regained command of himself. 
 Unlike Phoebe Ellen, he was never known to speak sharp 
 ly ; but it was observable that her instructions were more 
 eifective than his, and that the girl s advancement was 
 more largely attributable to Phoebe Ellen s kind but rigid 
 discipline than to any other influence brought to bear. 
 
 And though Anny learned many things, became, in fact, 
 a help about the place instead of the hinderance into 
 which she might easily have degenerated, she was but the 
 shadow of her former self. Her face had suffered a most 
 pathetic change. The old color was still in the cheeks, 
 the softly curved outline of throat and chin was just the 
 same, the low, pretty forehead gleamed as whitely from its 
 fringe of curls ; but the eyes, without whose kindling fires 
 the other features remain inert matter and nothing more, 
 had the hopeless, blank, lack-lustre look of the feeble 
 minded, and were lighted only now and then by a gleam 
 of intelligence, which gave them for a moment something 
 of their former brightness and meaning. There was an 
 intellectual lack in every movement of the body, every 
 outline of the features, in the very tinting of the skin. 
 The mental woman was no longer in control, and the 
 physical woman, thus left to herself, was pitiful and, in 
 a manner, dreadful to look upon. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 0^ the second Sunday in August Pinky appeared as 
 promptly as usual at the Thompson ranch. His boots 
 were freshly oiled, he wore a gorgeous necktie, and that 
 ultimate adjunct of elegance, as the word is understood 
 among the mountaineers, a " clean biled shirt." 
 
 " Well, fer any sakes !" cried Phoebe Ellen, meeting 
 him, as he dismounted, on the veranda and shaking 
 hands. Did she leave her palm in his a little longer than 
 usual ? Pinky wondered. And did she squeeze his fingers 
 the least little bit in the world as she obliged him to let 
 go ? He would have given a month s wages to know. 
 But she was rattling on at a great rate. " If ye ain t got 
 all yer war-paint on this time, fer shore ! Good Ian ! 
 Look at that necktie ! Well, if ye don t look like ye 
 was struck by lightnin , I miss my guess. I shouldn t 
 wonder if yer hair was combed in a reg lar cowlick, too. 
 Well, here s fine doin s ! Wot s up, anyhow ?" 
 
 " Nothin ain t up, as I knows on," answered Pinky, with 
 his rose-du- Barry grin. " I jes come over, same s allus. 
 Be ye all to hum ?" 
 
 " Spected to find us all to meetin , I reckon ?" she re 
 torted. 
 
 " Well," he answered, with magenta deprecation, " I 
 d know s wot I went s fur s that. But Sam V sis " 
 
 Oh, they re a-koosternr aroun somers. He was tryin 7 
 to learn er er letters a bit ago. Put im out in the barn, 
 won t ye ?" She jerked her thumb in the direction of the 
 horse. " Ye know where." 
 
 " I reckon he kin stan ere a while," replied Pinky, 
 
176 
 
 tying his tacky little mustang to the veranda post. 
 "I ll put im out into the corral by-V-by. That s good 
 nough fer him." 
 
 " Want to go in ? It s nicer out ere. Go V fetch a 
 cheer there s a good chap. / know why ye come over/ 
 she added, as Pinky returned with a deal stool and took his 
 place at her side. She was in unusually good spirits, and 
 he noted the fact with the hopefulness which lovers will 
 understand. 
 
 "Well, wot ud I come fer?" lie asked, grinning as he 
 propped both elbows on his knees and fixed his cheeks in 
 his palms. 
 
 " Ye spotted a hen-fun ral," she cried, in a tone of 
 accusation. 
 
 " Ye don t mean ye re agoin fer to perform the las 
 sollum rites over the diseased corpse o a barnyard fowl 
 to-day ?" he asked, in mock surprise. 
 
 " I do I do ! At one o clock !" 
 
 " Well, I have struck it rich this time, n no mistake !" 
 
 " S if ye didn t know we had hen s reg lar s Sunday 
 come around !" 
 
 " Ye was threateniri ole Topsy all the week, I member. 
 Oh, say, it couldn t be Topsy, now ?" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen nodded a grim affirmative. 
 
 "Topsy it is," she announced. "She would set I 
 couldn t break er thout breakin er neck, V so ye see 
 wot she s come to. I tied er to the corral by one leg, I 
 ducked er a dozen times in the river, I hoodooed er in 
 fifty ways t Sam n Leatherhead wanted me to try ; but 
 twa ii t no go. She would cluck. W so " 
 
 " Off went er topknot, hey ?" 
 
 " Off went er topknot this mornin . I done the bloody 
 deed myself, n enjoyed it, though Leatherhead wanted to 
 take the job oif my han s. Sech a obstinit critter ! She s 
 layin in state this minute in the dish-pan in the sink, if 
 Leatherhead ain t put er into the stew-kittle." 
 
177 
 
 " I reckon I mightn t look at er, mightn t I ?" 
 
 " Not afore the reg lar service at one o clock. We re 
 goin to bile er she s powerful old n tough, that Topsy. 
 Sam lows she was the oldes two-legged critter on the 
 place, barrin hisself." 
 
 "Is Sam so old ?" 
 
 " Well, old longside o a hen, I take it," answered 
 Phoebe Ellen. " But s fur s wot humans goes, pears 
 like he ain t outlived his usefulness. The ranch still 
 has need o him." 
 
 " By the ranch ye mean yerself, I reckon ?" Pinky 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes, it s all the same thing ! Me n the ranch is 
 one. Kin ye think o me thout the ranch, or the ranch 
 thout me ?" 
 
 Pinky fixed his pale eyes fully upon hers. 
 
 "I kin think o ye anyways ye like, ceptin thout me 
 aroun to look at ye." 
 
 " That s all very well," said Phoebe Ellen, with a toss of 
 her head. 
 
 "Yes," assented Pinky, "that s all very well, but it 
 might be better." 
 
 "Oh, I allus know wot ye re goin to talk about when 
 ye look like that !" declared Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " Then I mustn t say it ?" 
 
 "I sha n t urge ye." 
 
 "If I was aroun to look at ye all the time " 
 
 "Shockin !" objected Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " N if ye was to be where ye could look at me all the 
 time " 
 
 "Scan lous!" 
 
 "We d both be better off," finished Pinky, with shame 
 faced deliberation. 
 
 "Ye re wantin a job on the range, I take it, or ye d 
 never come aroun me like that," said Phoebe Ellen, fold 
 ing her hands primly at her belt and slanting her face 
 
 12 
 
178 
 
 towards him. " Ye orter speak to Sam. He mos ly looks 
 arter them things." 
 
 " Ye re allus puttin me off/ complained Pinky. 
 
 "I reckon a gal has a right to do as she likes, V I like 
 time. Fm shore I ve been good to ye," remarked Phoebe 
 Ellen, in a pious tone. 
 
 " Oh, good, yes ! Ye ve let me come over to Sunday 
 dinner " 
 
 " T twicet durin the week/ she corrected him. 
 
 "Well, wot o that? We have dinners over to Eden 
 City." 
 
 "Yes sech s they be. But they ain t s good ye 
 know they ain t s good s mine, Pinky !" 
 
 "No, they ain t s good s yourn," he was obliged to 
 admit. " Ye beat anything in the kitchen I ll own right 
 up to that." 
 
 " Well, then, why not keep right on comin over to din 
 ner, n say no more bout it ?" 
 
 " I wa n t talkin bout comin to dinner, nohow," ob 
 jected Pinky. 
 
 "I was. N why not put the hull thing on a dinner 
 basis ? It ud be a sensible way." 
 
 "Oh, Lord !" groaned Pinky. 
 
 " Got a pain ?" inquired Phoebe Ellen, kindly. 
 
 "Ye don t keer nothin fer me !" 
 
 " I don t like to see nothin a-suiferin . Shall I git the 
 campfire ? It s powerful upliftin to the stummick." 
 
 "Ye don t ye don t keer a tinker s darn fer me, V I 
 know it, too." 
 
 "Well, how d ye know it, now?" 
 
 " Can t I see ?" 
 
 "I never said sech a thing." 
 
 "But ye ve acted it ye re actin it now. N actions 
 speaks louder n words, every time." 
 
 "No, I never said it, n I never acted it, nuther. Fer 
 I do keer fer ye. So there !" 
 
179 
 
 Pinky s face lighted up like a red gas-globe when a 
 match is held inside. 
 
 " D ye mean it ?" he cried, eagerly. 
 
 " Course I mean it. I liked ye from the start. Don t 
 ye member how fine we got on the fust day over there to 
 the depot ?" 
 
 Pinky s face fell. 
 
 "I member/ he answered, gloomily. 
 
 "Well, then !" crowed Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " Oh, I member ! N we ve got on jes the same way 
 ever sence. W that s all that means !" 
 
 " Some folks ud kick if they was hangin / she re 
 marked. 
 
 " Anybody ud kick t had been hangin from June to 
 August/ he retorted. 
 
 A change came into Phoebe Ellen s features a mental 
 change such as shows itself rather in a readjustment of 
 the lines of the face than in a fluctuation in the color of 
 the skin. She fixed her eyes upon his with a look which 
 he had never seen there before. 
 
 "Ye ain t the only one t s been hangin / she said. 
 
 " Oh, I know the meanin o that," Pinky cried. He 
 did not dare to speak directly of Sam in connection with 
 herself, but it was altogether like her to go on of her own 
 accord. Her next words were more positive. 
 
 "You d know how long I been hangin . Gals don t 
 wear their feelin s fer bows n ruffles." 
 
 " I reckon that s a crack at me, ain t it ? But men 
 don t try to hide their feelin s. They know they couldn t. 
 They d git away with em, every time." 
 
 " But all men ain t alike," she objected. 
 
 " They be in that way." 
 
 She reflected a long moment. 
 
 " I don t b lieve it !" she finally declared. 
 
 "No?" 
 
 " Lots o em could love a gal 11 never show it !" 
 
180 
 
 " Fer instance ?" 
 
 " Sam could !" 
 
 Pinky shifted uneasily in his seat before he turned his 
 red face towards her in answer. 
 
 "Mebbe he could," he answered, gravely. "But he 
 don t I m shore o that." 
 
 "How d you know?" scoffed Phoebe Ellen. "Much 
 you know "bout wot Sam thinks. There he is now with 
 sis, comin down from the spring. They ve been up there 
 together fer a good hour." 
 
 " Tears like he sets a heap o store by er," remarked 
 Pinky. 
 
 Yes V she by him." 
 
 They were silent, watching the two descend the hill. 
 Sam shortened his gigantic stride to suit the short, irregu 
 lar gait of his companion, though he did not try to keep 
 step with her. She had an uncertain way of lifting her 
 feet, and she stepped long or short, with aimless lurches 
 sideward and forward. 
 
 " I ain t turned off, then ?" inquired Pinky, whose 
 thoughts had returned to his own love-affair. 
 
 " I don t never turn off nobody ceptin fer bad corn- 
 duck," answered Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " Then Fm likely to stay on the rest o my life." 
 
 "It pends on yer stayin power." 
 
 " Oh, I got plenty o that !" 
 
 " In wot way ?" 
 
 " I ll be good right along," grinned Pinky. 
 
 " Oh, ye re good nough. I never said ye wa n t good 
 nough. Tain t that." 
 
 She seemed willing to open up the subject anew, and 
 Pinky certainly had no objection, 
 
 " Wot is it, then ?" he asked. 
 
 She tossed her head. 
 
 " Why, ye see, there s my own mind," she suggested. 
 
 " Oh, that s a big matter," said Pinky. 
 
181 
 
 " It is with a gal,, when she don t know it." 
 " When she don t know it s a big matter ?" 
 " A gal s mind is allus a big matter when she don t on- 
 derstan it/ said Phoebe Ellen, explicitly. 
 " Then I kin keep right on hopin ?" 
 " No harm kin come o that, s I kin see." 
 " Does it bother ye when I talk about it ?" 
 " It might, if ye was to talk too much." 
 "I ll be keerful," Pinky promised. 
 And at that moment Sam and Anny came up. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE girl came heavily across the veranda to Phoebe 
 Ellen s side and sat down on the floor. She looked tired 
 and wistful. There was a set wrinkle in her forehead, 
 which had grown there since the accident. It would have 
 been less sadly conspicuous had it seemed the result of 
 thought. 
 
 " Why not git a cheer ?" asked Phoebe Ellen. " Wouldn t 
 ye rather ?" 
 
 The girl turned her face upward in mute questioning. 
 Phoebe Ellen saw that she had asked two questions in suc 
 cession a complication which her sister was often unable 
 to follow. 
 
 "Why don t ye git a cheer ?" she repeated. 
 
 Evidently Anny understood, but she shook her head. 
 
 " Wouldn t ye rather ?" 
 
 " No," was the dull answer. 
 
 " Ye like the floor better ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Tell me why." 
 
 Anny considered. 
 
 "I m tired/ she finally said, with a long sigh. 
 
 "Too tired to think?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "But the floor ye kin tell me why ye like to set on 
 the floor ?" 
 
 Anny considered again. 
 
 "It s big," she presently answered. "I can t fall 
 off." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen smiled as she smoothed her sister s hair. 
 
183 
 
 " D ye have a good time with Sam V yer book ?" she 
 went on. 
 
 Anny looked at her, perplexed. 
 
 " Book ?" she repeated. 
 
 "Yes. Don t ye member yer book? See! Sam s got 
 it in his hand now." 
 
 "Oh," said the girl, after a look in Sam s direction. 
 
 " D ye have a good time with Sam ?" repeated Phoebe 
 Ellen. 
 
 "Yes/ was the answer, not quite so dully given, but 
 always with a vocal vacancy which corresponded with the 
 eyes. Sam, who had seated himself on the edge of the 
 veranda, smiled at her, but his face was sad. 
 
 "Ye like to be with Sam ?" continued Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Cause he s good to ye ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Sam s allus good to ye ?" 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 The voice was becoming more expressive. 
 
 <"W yer book ye like that, too ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " It s too hard ?" 
 
 " Hard hard ! It s too hard !" repeated the girl, like 
 a parrot. 
 
 " Sometimes I make shore I better not pester er with 
 it no longer," Sam put in. 
 
 "/wouldn t," declared Pinky. 
 
 " I can t see t anything comes o it but the pesterin ," 
 Sam continued. "She can t 1 arn. It jes worries er." 
 
 " Jesso," acquiesced Pinky. 
 
 "Her n me s talked it over, though." Sam jerked 
 his thumb in Phoebe Ellen s direction. " She lows it s 
 better to keep the pore thing stirred up." 
 
 " She ll 1 arn to hate the sight o ye n yer book," said 
 Pinky. 
 
184 
 
 Sam looked startled. 
 
 "God ferbid I" he ejaculated, with fervor. Then, facing 
 Phoebe Ellen with the anxiety still in his face, "Wot 
 d ye think o that ?" 
 
 "0 her hatin ye ?" 
 
 She met his eyes with perfect coolness. 
 
 But Sam was not reassured. 
 
 " If I made shore she d do that" 
 
 " Ye d kill yerself, I make no doubt." 
 
 " I d never make er look inside o the kivers o a book 
 agin, ye may be shore o that." 
 
 "Rot I" snorted Phoebe Ellen. " She keers too much fer 
 ye to let a few letters in a book upset the bizness. Don t 
 ye, sis ?" 
 
 But Anny had been unable to follow the conversation, 
 and answered her sister s question only by a vague " How ?" 
 
 " The docter says how as it s good fer er," continued 
 Phoebe Ellen. " It keeps er a-tryin , n that henders er 
 from doatin . I don t reckon it pesters er, either, s much 
 a wot ye think. She jes sorter feels bad t she can t do 
 wot ye want er to. Mebbe that s a good thing in itself ; 
 the docter says so. It keeps er agoin , anyway. W she 
 likes to try to please ye I know that. Does Sam pester 
 ye ?" she asked, suddenly turning to Anny. 
 
 Still the same vacant voice in answer : 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Does the book pester ye ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But if Sam wasn t to 1 arn ye from the book no more ?" 
 
 Anny pondered. 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen repeated her question very distinctly. 
 
 " No book no more ?" asked the girl, eagerly. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen nodded. 
 
 "I d like that," enunciated the poor creature after a 
 moment. 
 
185 
 
 " But if ye couldn t have Sam, either ?" 
 
 "No Sam?" Anny s eyes widened in distressed sur 
 prise. 
 
 "The book V Sam allus go together see ?" 
 
 The possibility of losing Sam had momentarily sharp 
 ened the girl s faculties. 
 
 "Not allus not allus," she declared. "Sometimes 
 sometimes Sam leaves the book behind !" 
 
 " But if ye have Sam, ye mus have the book, too." 
 
 Again the interval of pondering. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "No book, no Sam," replied Phoebe Ellen, pausing 
 slightly after each word. 
 
 " Oh," said Anny, after a longer pause than usual. 
 
 " Sam can t be with ye nless ye 1 arn the book," de 
 clared Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 Sam s big, kindly face was full of pathos as he inter 
 rupted : 
 
 " Don t make a bugbear o me don t make er hate 
 me !" 
 
 " Hush !" commanded Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 Anny had crept closer to Sam along the floor until she 
 could touch his hand. 
 
 " I ll 1 arn," she said, turning her vacant, pathetic eyes 
 upon him, and laying her cheek softly against his hand. 
 " I ll 1 arn I ll 1 arn !" 
 
 " That s a good gal," commended Phoebe Ellen. "Ye d 
 do anything fer Sam, wouldn t ye ?" 
 
 " I ll 1 arn I ll 1 arn !" came the discordant refrain. 
 
 " She won t hate ye, don t ye see ?" asked Phoebe Ellen. 
 " She d do anything fer ye. N I know it does er good 
 to try. It s harder on you n anybody else." 
 
 "I kin stan it, if it s reely good fer er," said Sam, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " It is good fer er. If we was to let er have er own 
 way, she d go back to where she started. We mus keep 
 
186 
 
 er a-tryin . That s wot counts the tryin . Tain t a 
 question o wot she wants, bat o wot s good fer er." 
 
 Sam knew she was right, and said so. 
 
 "But it s so dreadful," he added, turning away his face 
 from the girl, who was still caressing his hand. 
 
 " I know but tain t a question o that, nuther. N if 
 twas, it ud be dreadfuller to see er go back to wot she 
 was." 
 
 " Yes," Sam admitted. And he was glad in his heart 
 that Phoebe Ellen was at hand to urge him on by her 
 wisdom. Left to himself, he would have acted on senti 
 ment altogether, and would have permitted the girl to do 
 just as she liked, regardless of consequences. 
 
 "How fur d ye git to-day?" continued Phoebe Ellen, 
 turning once more to her sister. 
 
 " How fur ?" 
 
 The girl turned her vacant eyes first upon her sister, 
 then upon Sam. 
 
 "How fur up the mountain ?" 
 
 "No how fur in the book ?" 
 
 " Oh, the book !" 
 
 She fell a-musing, while the lines of her face took a 
 downward turn. 
 
 "No further, no further, no further," she intoned, in a 
 dreary throat-voice. 
 
 " Jes to C ?" insisted Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " No further, no further, no further," chanted the girl. 
 
 " But ye membered A, didn t ye ?" 
 
 "A? Yes. I kin member that. A allus straddles." 
 
 " N B? YeknowedB?" 
 
 "B? Yes." 
 
 "Was it hard?" 
 
 " Yes. B s hard, but I membered it." 
 
 " N C ?" 
 
 "No." She shook her head drearily. "They grow 
 harder V harder n harder. I couldn t member C." 
 
187 
 
 " But think how good tis to member A V B ! See 
 how fine twas not to fergit em! Ye re a-gittin on 
 fine." 
 
 Anny was still caressing Sam s hand, as a child might 
 have done. She turned her wistful eyes once more upon 
 him. 
 
 " Fine hey ?" she asked, wishing to be assured of his 
 approbation. 
 
 "Yes, fine I" he asserted, his face serious with a great 
 pitying tenderness. 
 
 "Shore?" she insisted. 
 
 "Yes, ye re a-gittin on fine. It was fine fine t ye 
 membered A V B !" 
 
 Her dull, anxious face lightened. 
 
 "Ye re glad to please Sam, ain t ye ?" asked Phoebe 
 Ellen. 
 
 "Yes glad, glad ! I m glad when Sam s glad. I love 
 Sam he s good to me." 
 
 e "W when ye learn C, then Sam will be glad hey, 
 Sam ?" 
 
 Sam choked a little as he gave his assurance in the af 
 firmative. 
 
 " The C s so hard, I know. It s hard, hey ?" 
 
 " Hard, hard !" repeated the girl, with a dreary head- 
 shake. 
 
 "But ye ll keep on tryin hey ?" 
 
 She answered nothing for a moment. 
 
 "Ye ll keep on tryin , jes to please Sam, hey ?" 
 
 The girl placed her cheek in the giant s big palm and 
 held it there. 
 
 "I ll try," she said, smiling feebly. And then, "I ll 
 try I ll try I ll try !" she chanted, in that discordant 
 throat-tone, which had something horrible in it, as if it 
 were the voice of a departed spirit coming back and 
 speaking through a dead body. 
 
 " Pore thing !" said Pinky, involuntarily. 
 
188 
 
 But Phoebe Ellen patted her head kindly. 
 
 " That s right/ she said. " Sis likes ye when ye try." 
 
 The girl faced her with something like eagerness. 
 
 " N Sain?" she asked. 
 
 "Sam likes ye, too when ye try." 
 
 "Shore?" 
 
 The wistful, vacant face was turned towards Sam now. 
 
 He nodded in answer there was something in his 
 throat that would not let him speak. 
 
 "I ll try I ll try I ll try!" croaked the girl. And 
 Sam took the pathetic, clinging hand between his own 
 and held it there softly. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 PINKY did his best to inspire something of his own 
 warmth into Phoebe Ellen, but it must be confessed that,, 
 as he himself expressed it, his progress was of the station 
 ary sort. Permanently stationary, too ; for she was jeal 
 ous of advances. He had attained to a certain point in 
 her affections she really cared a great deal for him in 
 her way, though her regard was subordinate to several 
 considerations but beyond that point he found it impos 
 sible to go. She never rebuked him in his love-making, 
 except by a retort or a laughing toss of the head. Her 
 actions seemed to say, " Make me love you if you can. I 
 am quite willing." And in fact that was precisely Phoebe 
 Ellen s state of mind. 
 
 She had not the slightest objection in the world to him 
 per se. He was a good enough fellow and would make a 
 good husband. She could manage him without difficulty, 
 and under her direction he would become an efficient 
 overseer of the ranch. He was honest, not too strongly 
 addicted to sprees, and he got on easily with the boys. 
 There were advantages in the amalgamation which were 
 by no means lost on Phoebe Ellen s sound business sense. 
 Indeed, she often blamed herself for not acting upon this 
 business conviction without delay, by accepting Pinky as 
 a husband and partner, and thus setting the whole affair 
 at rest at once and forever. 
 
 She had no illusions about Pinky. Intellectually she 
 recognized him as a little above the average cowboy. His 
 sheepishness in her presence she rather liked the idea 
 of his never getting over that was positive man-of-the- 
 
190 
 
 worldliness compared with some things of the sort she 
 had seen. He was not handsome. She knew just how 
 his face in profile hollowed in at the nose and came out 
 abruptly in the chin Sam called it an "ingrowin face." 
 She knew just how red he was, how mottled, how easily 
 he turned purple, how frequently his beard was inter 
 rupted by great tracts barren of everything but freckles. 
 She knew just how far his ears stood out and how unfin 
 ished they looked. " They ain t got no hem," was her way 
 of putting it to herself and how when he laughed he 
 twisted his eyes into little crescent moons with the con 
 cave side down, and how his soft, straight, yellow hair 
 stood out at unaccountable angles, no matter from what 
 side one viewed him. But the fact remained that he was 
 acceptable to her, and that he occupied a place in her 
 thoughts prominent and permanent, if not absolute and 
 all-pervading. 
 
 That kind of stationary courting is a discouraging thing. 
 In a way it is worse than active opposition, for in the lat 
 ter case a man has at least the advantage of a difficulty 
 to be overcome, possibly a grievance to be righted ; and 
 either may bring out the stronger, manlier qualities of 
 the will. It is worse than an open rejection, for it gives 
 a lover no chance to fly out and lose his temper, and thus 
 settle the affair on a comfortable basis of permanence. 
 But Pinky had nothing to do but go on. It was rather 
 awful, in a way, to go on under the conviction that she 
 cared more for another man than for him. She had all 
 but admitted the fact; but, on the whole, it was more to 
 Pinky s taste to go on than to back out altogether. There 
 was still hope ; a bird may be captured as long as it re 
 mains in the bush, and the question as to its preferences 
 in the matter of its captor is one of little consequence, 
 after all. The important thing is to get it into one s hand. 
 
 They had many talks on the subject. These were 
 largely repetitions, but some of them may be recorded. 
 
191 
 
 "Ain t I wutli waitin fer?" she demanded once when 
 he had pressed her for some sort of decision. 
 
 "Tain t a question o wuth, nohow," was his answer. 
 
 " Oh ! Then ye d think jes s much o me if I was 
 good fer nothin ! I like that !" 
 
 "I m willin to wait fer ye I ve told ye that afore. 
 13ut Fm gittin to feel like / may not be waitin for ye, 
 arter all." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen pricked up her ears. 
 
 " You not waitin fer me ?" 
 
 " How d I know but wot it s you t s doin the waitin ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Me waitin ? How d ye mean ?" 
 
 " There I tech ye on the raw," remarked Pinky. 
 
 " Wot be ye drivin at ? Me waitin ! Well 1" 
 
 Pinky understood her effort to appear unconscious, for, 
 by a tacit understanding, they had both ignored her semi- 
 confession on a former occasion. But he had resolved to 
 be bold and make a stand. 
 
 "How d I know but wot it s you t s waitin fer some 
 other man ?" 
 
 " Oh, well," snapped Phoebe Ellen, making a great clat 
 ter among the pans with which she was busy (Leather- 
 head was down in the garden pulling turnips), "if ye 
 want to be jealous, / hain t no Abjections." 
 
 "I ain t jealous," protested Pinky. 
 
 " Have ye ever seen me makin up to any man ?" 
 
 "Not out- n -out, s I knows on." 
 
 She did not stop to take exceptions to his answer. 
 
 " Have ye ever seen any man makin up to me ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, then," triumphed Phoebe Ellen, setting away 
 her pans and starting in on the pots and kettles. 
 
 She always silenced him, and she liked him none the 
 less for that ; but she always knew, as well as he did, that 
 she was wrong and he was right in the whole affair. Per- 
 
192 
 
 haps that was one reason why she did not condemn him 
 to silence altogether. 
 
 " Oh, I m willin to wait !" he reiterated at another 
 time, returning to the ever-recurring subject, "but, say! 
 Hain t I got a right to know for shore wot I m waitin 
 f er ?" 
 
 Her answers were usually rapped out without pause or 
 preliminary, but now she was silent a moment. 
 
 "I ve told ye a hundred times. Ye re a-waitin fer a 
 chance to marry me, if I kin make up my mind." 
 
 " Then yer mind s the only thing in the way ?" 
 
 "It s a big obstickle, as I said afore," she remarked, 
 gravely. 
 
 "Ef ye d only say out-V-out wot the obstickle is," he 
 sighed. 
 
 "Well, I reckon ye ve been a-guessin , ain t ye?" 
 
 " Guessin ain t knowin . Why can t we come down 
 to facts ? I might help ye out o the way with the ob 
 stickle, wotever tis. I might git some sort o moral 
 crowbar under it V give it a roll clean out o sight. 
 Tain t nothin agin me ?" 
 
 He knew it was not, but he hoped her answer would 
 lead to something definitely illuminating. 
 
 ( Say !" he continued, as she remained silent, " I ve a 
 big notion to tell ye wot I ve sometimes thort." And 
 then he paused. Something in her looks made it imper 
 ative that he should not go on without her permission. 
 
 " Oh, ye do sometimes think," said she, with mock 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " If ye wouldn t git mad" 
 
 " I ve got a dretful temper ye know that yerself." 
 
 " Yes, I know. But that don t cut no figger. I ve got 
 a puttickler good temper, n we kin strike a average." 
 
 " Oh, thankee. How noble !" 
 
 "I like a gal t kin howl the shingles off the ruff." 
 
 "I like that!" 
 
193 
 
 " But all this ain t wot I started in to say I d some 
 times thort." 
 
 "It 11 do fer a sample." 
 
 "No the rest s better. Say, ye wouldn t git too mad 
 if I was to tell ye out-V-out, would ye ?" 
 
 " Suthin bout the obstickle ?" 
 
 Pinky nodded. 
 
 " I can t promise/ she declared. " Ye ll have to chance 
 it. Go ahead if ye like but it s all on yer own hook, 
 member !" 
 
 " Well, I will take chances. A feller s got to do suth- 
 in ." 
 
 " Suthin in the line o takin the bull by the horns ?" 
 
 Was she giving him a tacit permission ? He thought 
 he saw signs of yielding in the drooping eyelids and in 
 drawn chin. 
 
 " Wuss n that," he declared. "Suthin in the line o 
 takin. a gal by the heartstrings." 
 
 " This ere s interesting" remarked Phoebe Ellen. 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " They s other men about the ranch." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen did not lift her eyes. 
 
 " While ye re at it, ye may s well make yerself plain," 
 she said. 
 
 "It might be they was some other man bout the place 
 t you keerd fer " 
 
 " Oh !" 
 
 " Didn t ye half own up wunst ?" 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " N it might be he didn t keer fer you!" 
 
 There was a silence, during which Pinky s heart went 
 through a series of contortions which it would be impos 
 sible to describe from the outside. Phoebe Ellen turned 
 first pale, then red. 
 
 "Half own up? Never!" she cried. "Well, if I m 
 any jedge, ye ve gone fur enough for one day." After a 
 
 13 
 
194 
 
 sideward glance at her, Pinky made up his mind that she 
 had delivered herself more in agitation than in anger. 
 
 "I ll stop, if ye say so," he hastened to say. "But, 
 while we re at it, hadn t we better have it out ?" 
 
 " Ye ve hinted at the same thing afore " 
 
 " N fer that very reason hadn t we better have it out 
 now ? Then they won t be no more hintin , n we ll on- 
 derstan each other." 
 
 " Not this time, not this time !" she cried. " Wot d ye 
 reckon a gal s made of? Injy-rubber, or iron, or wot? 
 No, I ve heerd nough fer one day." 
 
 " Ye re mad at me," deprecated Pinky. 
 
 "Yes," she assented. 
 
 "But ye ll git over it V make up ?" 
 
 " Humph !" was the only answer he could get from her. 
 
 The conversation ended there for that day, and Pinky 
 left with the impression that Phoebe Ellen was really very 
 angry with him, and that he had probably given her just 
 cause. He furthermore resolved never to broach the sub 
 ject again, but to let affairs take their own course without 
 any further urging or interference on his part. By affairs 
 taking their own course he meant Phoebe Ellen s taking 
 her own course, and it was very seriously borne in upon 
 him that he would never again question her will in any 
 way, or suggest himself even remotely as a possible means 
 of helping to solve the problem of her future. 
 
 Arriving at the ranch a few days later in this humble 
 frame of mind, he was surprised that Phoebe Ellen should 
 almost immediately open up the same subject of her own 
 accord. It was Sunday again, and she was reading a 
 Denver newspaper when he rode up and dismounted. 
 But before he was fairly seated she flung the sheet aside, 
 and, clasping her arms about her knee, faced him with a 
 frankness which was almost eager. 
 
 "Say," began her introductory speech, "ye member 
 wot we was talkin bout when ye was over a- Wednesday ?" 
 
195 
 
 <e 
 
 I member. But I ve dropped it. I ain t never agoin 
 to bother ye with it no more." 
 
 "Well, I hated it, o course. But Fm glad ye made 
 up yer mind to drop it. It shows you keer fer my 
 feelin s." 
 
 "I keer fer the hull o ye, feelin s V all/ Pinky as 
 serted. 
 
 " That s all right ! But I been thinkin it over a good 
 deal while I been busy roun the house, ye know." 
 
 " I hope ye ain t mad at me no longer ?" 
 
 " No, I ain t mad I wa n t reely mad at the time. I 
 jes hadn t time to git a good fair look at the matter 
 aroun the corners. N I ve made up my mind I hadn t no 
 call to git mad, nohow. Ye said wot was right, V ye 
 come at me the right way with it." 
 
 Pinky heaved a long sigh. 
 
 " It s more n I orter expect, I swear," he said. 
 
 " Ye had the right to do wot ye did. When a feller 
 keers fer a gal, n they re good friends, he has a right to 
 ask why she can t like im back agin. W she orter tell 
 im." 
 
 Pinky sighed again. 
 
 " If she fan, it 11 be a comfort to im," he said, meekly. 
 
 " Well, I kin V I will. It s only fair V bizness-like. 
 I could V told ye from the fust. I did want to, but some 
 how I couldn t it was a lot o gal-nonsense t made me 
 keep still. Gals do have the wildest notions bout love- 
 fairs, anyhow. If a gal s in love V the feller don t spect 
 it, she d no more think o tellin im o it n she would o 
 flyin to the moon. Would she ?" 
 
 " Could you do it ?" questioned Pinky. 
 
 " Couldn t I ? N wouldn t I ? W didn t I ? Well, 
 I don t mean to say I told im in so many words ; but 
 they s ways, they s ways ! It was when I found he kep 
 his eyes V ears shet a-purpose t I begun to haul in my 
 horns. I didn t want the boys a-sayin t I d throwed my- 
 
196 
 
 self at a feller s head n he never even reached out to 
 ketch me." 
 
 " I can t blame ye/ said Pinky, with candor. "That 
 sort o thing tells agin a gal." 
 
 " Su thin kep me from it, anyhow. N I had suthin 
 o the same feelin when ye up n at me with it o Wednes 
 day. But I ve had time to think it over. Now see ere !" 
 
 " Yes," said Pinky, all attention. 
 
 " We re good frien s, ain t we ?" 
 
 "0 course !" 
 
 " Well, we kin talk it over like frien s, then ?" 
 
 " That s the very thing I ve allus wanted." 
 
 " N we kin be sensible, V jes cause we ve talked 
 over the marry in subjeck, it don t f oiler t we ve got to 
 make fools o ourselves ?" 
 
 " No," assented Pinky. 
 
 "Well, that s wot I want bizness fust n pleasure 
 arterwards. N this is bizness. That s the right basis 
 fer it it s a bizness transaction. N I m willin to an 
 swer all yer questions now." 
 
 " Then ye do keer fer a man t don t keer fer you ?" 
 
 " I do," answered Phoebe Ellen, boldly. 
 
 " N that man is" 
 
 " Sam." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE silence which followed was not of long duration. 
 It was broken by Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " Here s cornf essions I" she cried, with a shrill laugh. 
 
 Pinky smoothed the back of his neck, and finished by 
 rubbing his chin with his palm. 
 
 She fetched a breath of relief as from great depths. 
 
 "I feel better/ she declared. "I didn t know it was 
 weighin on me so. Tears like a great chunk o rock d 
 been rolled oif m me. If ye only had suthiii to own up 
 bout yerself ain t they a gal somers t ye like better n 
 wot ye do me ? A gal t don t keer fer ye, but s clean 
 in love with some other feller ? That ud even things 
 up." 
 
 " I d own up if they was. But sech a gal ain t on airth." 
 
 "Then you ve got to stan on the nex ledge above me. 
 But I ain t to blame, Pinky I d V helped it if I could. 
 It s jest a piece o that gal-foolishness I was tellin ye 
 bout. Why should I kecr more fer one man n another ? 
 They ve all got two legs n two han s ; they kin all talk ; 
 they kin all git mad n shoot ; they kin all git drunk V 
 feel funny. Wot s the differ atween em ? It s all non 
 sense to pick out one n doat on im. It ain t bizness." 
 
 "Ye ve tried to help it?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " I ve set im longside o every man I ve seen ; I ve said 
 to myself over n over agin t I m a fool, n t I like 
 Leatherhead n Doc Sedgwick n Stormy Bill V Shootin 
 Ike jes well s wot I do Sam; but tain t no use. The 
 feelin jes sticks t I like Sam best. It s a queer world !" 
 
198 
 
 She heaved a sigh. " It s a queer world where a gal can t 
 do wot she likes with er own feelin s I" 
 
 "I kin see all that," said Pinky. "It ud come to the 
 same thing with me if I tried to think I keerd more fer 
 some other gal n wot I do fer you." 
 
 " Well, that s a sorter bond, ain t it ? We kin onder- 
 stan each other. D ye know, I m ruther s prised at us 
 a-settin ere n a-talkin it over like this. It speaks well 
 fer us. Most folks couldn t do it. I d a tried it long 
 ago if I d V knowed how twas comin out." 
 
 "It shows we re sensible," suggested Pinky. 
 
 "I knowed I was all that, o course but you; well, 
 there I looked fer suthin, I didn t know jes wot. But 
 it helps ye up in my pinion wonderful. I don t b lieve 
 nothin else could a done it. If we was to marry, I feel 
 shore we d git along." 
 
 "Then why shouldn t we ?" Pinky s voice was eager. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen considered. 
 
 " If we was married ye could look arter the boys V the 
 cattle on the range, n go to the round-up in the spring 
 V see t I got my own steers ; ye could tend to the 
 plantin n harvesting n ye could make out yer report 
 to me like ye do to the railroad. It ud be a lovely 
 rangement on both sides. We could be o use to each 
 other." 
 
 " Why shouldn t we do it, then ?" 
 
 " A lovely rangement," she repeated. " Only " 
 
 " Only ?" 
 
 " Where ud my feelin s be ?" 
 
 Pinky s face fell. 
 
 "Yer feelin s seem to be layin round so loose, like," 
 he said, pathetically, "they re bound to be tromped on 
 whichever way we turn." 
 
 "It s that gal - foolishness," said Phoebe Ellen, with 
 something like a groan. "If I could git over that " 
 
 " Ye ll git over it," Pinky assured her. 
 
199 
 
 "Well, when I do git over it, Fll marry ye, Pinky. 
 Ye re next arter Sam." 
 
 "That s suthiny remarked Pinky, gratefully. 
 
 " It s a heap ! W when I git him disposed of " 
 
 " Why not marry me fust 11 dispose o him arterwards ?" 
 
 " Ud ye be willin to do that ?" 
 
 "Wouldn t I r 
 
 "How ye mus love me !" remarked Phoebe Ellen, ey 
 ing him with renewed approval. 
 
 " Tain t no name fer it !" he declared, following up his 
 advantage. 
 
 She considered a moment. 
 
 " Well, / wouldn t be willin to go into a thing like that, 
 nohow. A gal can t sarve God n Mammon in marryin 
 no more n wot she kin in religion. I ve got to git Sam 
 off m my mind fust; V arter that we ll see wot we ll 
 see !" 
 
 " How d ye pose to git im off ? Couldn t ye do it 
 quicker if ye was to send im away ?" questioned Pinky. 
 
 " I ve thort o that, but wot ud life ere be thout im ?" 
 
 " Oh, Lord !" groaned Pinky. 
 
 "I m tellin ye the truth I couldn t bear to stay ere 
 myself if Sam was gone. Mebbe I ll git over it, but that s 
 the way I feel now." 
 
 She waited for Pinky to say something, but as he re 
 mained silent she went on. 
 
 " We re bein honest with each other to-day, like good 
 friends orter be ; now lookee ere ! D ye reckon ye kin 
 stan a bigger dose n ye ve had yit from me ?" 
 
 "Go ahead ! I kin see aforehand wot it s likely to be." 
 
 She cleared her throat. 
 
 "I ve told ye I don t want to send Sam off yit. But 
 the reason why " 
 
 "Ye ain t quite shore but wot ye kin git im to keer 
 fer ye yit, if ye don t send im away ? S that it ?" 
 
 Phoobe Ellen nodded. 
 
200 
 
 " Ye ve said it better n I could," she said, with a long 
 breath. 
 
 "I spected it," said Pinky, without emotion other than 
 some inward increment of sheepishness which manifested 
 itself by a rush of blood to his ears. Then after a little 
 pause, "It s only natural." 
 
 " It s natural fer anybody to git wot they want if they 
 kin do it," specified Phoebe Ellen. " That s the bizness 
 way o lookin at it. N we re talkin bizness." 
 
 " Yes," assented Pinky, still undismayed. 
 
 Now, see ere ! I ve been a-studyin this thing over 
 V Fve come to cornclusions. The p int I want to make 
 s jes this : Sam mus have a chance see ?" 
 
 "A chance to keer fer ye, ye mean ?" 
 
 "Jes that." 
 
 " Ain t he had it?" 
 
 She took no notice of the question, but continued in 
 an off-hand way, which showed that she had considered 
 her line of action beforehand. 
 
 "I want to give im a chance to like me. He ain t a 
 feller t kin be brought aroun in a minute. I want to give 
 im time ; I want to give im till nex June." 
 
 " That 11 be a year, all told, sence he knowed ye." 
 
 "Jes so. N he orter know me purty well by that 
 time. I ain t afeerd o his knowin me too well. Fve 
 learned to hold in my temper, V that was my bigges 
 fault. Oh, I ain t agoin to hide my light under a bushel ; 
 V a year orter be plenty o time fer im to make out jes 
 ho\v bright tis see ? Well, that s the way I ve sized it 
 up. I ll give Sam till nex June " 
 
 " N then?" 
 
 " N then, if he don t come to time, I ll send im away. 
 That s the only thing to do, as I see it. Wot d ye think 
 o the plan ?" 
 
 "I don t b lieve he ll ever keer fer ye," said Pinky, 
 frankly. 
 
201 
 
 "Neither do I," was her equally frank reply. " But I 
 want to try im, jes fer my own satisfaction." 
 
 " S posin ye didn t git over yer gal -foolishness even 
 arter ye sent im off ?" suggested Pinky. 
 
 "Ud ye refuse to marry me?" she inquired. 
 
 " No !" 
 
 " Then why not call it a bargain ?" asked Phoebe Ellen, 
 holding out her hand. 
 
 Pinky took the hand and shook it. 
 
 " It is a bargain," he said. 
 
 And with that their conversation came to an end for 
 that day. 
 
 They renewed it soon after, however, though on some 
 what different lines. 
 
 " Say," said Phoebe Ellen, apropos of nothing in par 
 ticular, " I want to ask ye suthin . I ve had a idee in my 
 mind ever sence I come to Collyraydo, n I want to know 
 wot ye think o it. It s bout Sam." 
 
 " That s where all yer idees seems to b long," Pinky re 
 marked without resentment. 
 
 " Sam V the everlastin gal-foolishness I can t git red 
 of. I wanted to ast ye if ye seen anything queer bout im 
 the fust day he met us over there to the depot." 
 
 "Nothing thout it was the way he sot down on ye." 
 
 Well, that ivas queer ; but I meant suthin else. I 
 meant bout sis. D ye see anything goin on atween him 
 V sis ?" 
 
 " I member thinkin to myself he acted a little gone on 
 er." 
 
 " Jes so." 
 
 She folded her hands and settled back. 
 
 "That s wot I wanted to know, /noticed it, but I 
 wanted to make shore I wa n t mistook. Then the way 
 he watched over er arter she got hurt that told a big 
 story too. N he ain t been jest hisself sence. It all 
 means jes one thing." 
 
202 
 
 " T he s in love with yer sister," formulated Pinky. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " I d have a better chance at im if he d never seen 
 er," she added. 
 
 " That s one fer me/ put in Pinky. 
 
 " It s a dozen agin me, though. Whenever he looks at 
 er, pears like he turns sorter sorrerful, like he member- 
 ed how purty n bright she was afore she was hurt. W 
 he s that patient V kind sometimes it gives me a queer 
 feelin inside jes to see how good he is to er, V how it 
 breaks im up. He s allus lookin arter er V doin little 
 things to make er happy. He allus brings er candy 
 when he goes over to Pete Hawkins s place. W he never 
 thinks o me ! If he was to look arter me like he does 
 arter her but there ! Ye see the gal-foolishness is on 
 top agin. He never looks arter me, ceptin in the way o 
 bizness." 
 
 " Ye never 11 git yer feelin s fer im on a bizness basis," 
 remarked Pinky. 
 
 "Anyway, it 11 take a long time. I d give half the 
 ranch if I could, V then me V you could git married V 
 live co mf table on the other half fer the rest o our days. 
 So ye kin see jes where I stan . My only chance with 
 Sam s to" 
 
 "Wot ?" asked Pinky, as she hesitated. 
 
 " Git er out o the way," said Phoebe Ellen, deliber 
 ately. 
 
 Pinky had been looking out towards the river, but now 
 he faced her. 
 
 " Git er out o the way ?" His face was pale. "Git yer 
 own sister out o the way ?" 
 
 She was neither looking at him nor thinking of him, 
 and she heard only his last speech, uttered in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " Ye mean ye mean ye re goin to kill er ?" 
 
 Pinky stood erect and tremulous. 
 
203 
 
 It was Phoobe Ellen s turn to be startled now. She 
 rose too, her face as white as death. 
 
 " Pinky !" was all she could say. And she fell back, 
 covering her eyes with her hands. 
 
 " D I hear ye wrong ?" he asked, looking down at her. 
 
 She dropped her hands, but made no effort to look at 
 him. 
 
 " Pinky, Pinky, Pll never forgive ye fer this !" she 
 cried. 
 
 "I did hear wrong !" he cried, approaching her with a 
 look of relief. 
 
 "Wrong.? Wot d ye think o me ? My own sister! 
 W foolish at that I" She rocked herself to and fro. 
 Why could she not face him defiantly and give loud utter 
 ance to the sense of outrage which came of being so mis 
 interpreted ? The answer was ready in her own mind. 
 She remembered too well the bloody thought that had 
 occurred to her on the morning after the accident, and 
 she could say nothing. She could not utter the words, 
 "I never thought of such a thing." They came to 
 her ; she longed to repeat them in self-defence, but the 
 effort of utterance would have choked her. She was inno 
 cent this time but she had been guilty. And to be sus 
 pected of such a design to hear such a voice outside her 
 own conscience, to understand its real significance on the 
 lips of another, and, above all, to be unable to deny what 
 it implied gave her a chill of horror which for a moment 
 made her tongue useless. 
 
 "Til go V empty them weeds out o 7 my satchel afore I 
 sleep this night," she promised herself, during the inter 
 val in which Pinky was moving towards her. And with 
 the resolution came a further calculation, "I sha n t never 
 need "em now, nohow. She s foolish I won t never need 
 to make 7 er crazy besides. JSP that s all t loco does." 
 
 She lifted her eyes to his in a sort of doubting terror. 
 
 " I might V used other words," she managed to say, 
 
204 
 
 recovering herself sufficiently for speech. The sound of 
 her voice assured her. It had not altogether the accent 
 of a guilty woman. " But fer ye to think sech things o ? 
 me" 
 
 " Ye ll tell me wot ye reely meant?" he finally asked. 
 
 " Ud ye help do sech a thing ?" demanded Phoebe 
 Ellen, fixing her hard, gray eyes upon his. 
 
 " I was lookin aroun fer my hat," was his answer. 
 " Peared like if that was wot ye wanted o me I couldn t 
 git back to Eden City too quick." 
 
 (( >]$> d> y e reckon Fm so much wuss n you 9" 
 
 " I was wrong," said Pinky, humbly. " N now ye ll 
 tell me jes wot ye did mean, won t ye ?" 
 
 She had complete control of her voice now. 
 
 " I only meant t she mus be sent away. I know a place 
 back there in Nebrasky where she could be kep . We 
 could give it out t she was goin to be treated. Sam ud 
 have to be made to b lieve that she could come back any 
 time arter nex June." 
 
 Pinky s misinterpretation made him even more ready 
 than he otherwise would have been to accept her expla 
 nation and to bring about the result she desired. 
 
 " I want ye to help me," she continued. " That s why 
 I m tellin ye all this. I ll never marry ye, never, till I ve 
 had a fair show. I want a chance, Pinky I want a chance ! 
 A chance fer my own happiness, I mean a chance to mar 
 ry the man I love. I never keerd fer a man like I do Sam; 
 I never kin keer fer nother." She had forgotten her hor 
 ror at Pinky s mistake, and the tears were burning hot be 
 hind her eyelids. " Gimme the chance I want ye kin do 
 it* They d be good to er back there. That was all I 
 meant." 
 
 Pinky took a moment to consider. 
 
 " Ye ll help me ?" Phoebe Ellen asked, appealingly. 
 
 " How soon ?" 
 
 " I ll tell ye when the time conies." 
 
205 
 
 And with that she left the room, intending to fulfil the 
 promise she had made to herself to burn up the loco-weed 
 in her sachel without delay ; but Anny came limping in 
 at that moment, dragging Sam by the hand. 
 
 "Wot if I should need it, arter all?" she thought, a 
 twinge of jealousy passing through her as she saw the two 
 together. 
 
 And the deed was left undone. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 CERTAINLY Anny was improving. Phoebe Ellen no 
 ticed it from day to day ; so did Sam ; so did Leather- 
 head ; and Pinky declared the improvement most marked. 
 
 One day she and Phoebe Ellen were in the kitchen do 
 ing up the after-dinner work. There was an unusual 
 flush in her soft, rounded cheeks, and her eyes for the 
 moment had almost recovered their former lustre. 
 
 " It s lonesome, it s lonesome," she said, in her queer, 
 unmanageable voice. " Oh, it s lonesome when Sam s 
 gone on the range." 
 
 She was wiping dishes by the kitchen window and 
 Phoebe Ellen was busy about the sink. 
 
 " Ye mustn t think s much o Sam/ said the latter, 
 emptying out a panful of water, and pausing with her dish 
 cloth in mid-air while the water gurgled down the pipe. 
 
 " Why ?" questioned Anny, with an arrested look which 
 seemed capable of full comprehension. 
 
 " Because it ain t nice." 
 
 " Not nice ?" 
 
 " Gals ortn t to keer too much fer the men," was the 
 answer. 
 
 "Why ?" came the discordant iteration. 
 
 " Cause tain t nice." 
 
 "Oh, why?" 
 
 " Well, now, you jes take my word fer it. It ain t nice, 
 n that s all they is bout it. N I know nice things when 
 I see em." 
 
 "Not nice to like Sam ?" The girl s face looked dis 
 tressed. 
 
207 
 
 "That s wot I said." 
 
 Army s brows twisted themselves into a faint frown. 
 
 "/think it s nice/ she declared. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen looked up surprised. She had never 
 beard her sister speak so positively since the accident. 
 
 " It ain t nice jes the same/ she declared. " If he was 
 to go way V leave ye well/ud ye call that nice ?" 
 
 Anny was unable to detect the fallacy in her sister s 
 reasoning, but the idea of Sam s going away started her 
 off on a new track. After the first look of dread, a faint 
 smile came into her pretty, vacant features. 
 
 "Oh, he won t go way," she answered, with confi 
 dence. 
 
 "Ye never kin tell. Men is powerful onsartain. Here 
 to-day V gone to-morrer. He might pack up V leave in 
 the night, fer all we know." 
 
 " Sam won t go," repeated Anny, in the same tone of 
 confidence. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen made a dab at the sink with her rag and 
 began to scrub vigorously. She wanted to accustom Anny 
 to the idea of a separation from Sam, and she knew of no 
 better way than to proceed as she had begun. 
 
 " I tell ye he s more likely to n not," she declared, hold 
 ing her face low over her work. 
 
 "No no," repeated Anny. 
 
 Suddenly Phoebe Ellen looked up. 
 
 " That s silly," she affirmed. " Ye re actin silly now." 
 
 " Silly to make shore Sam keers fer me ?" 
 
 "Yes, V not to take my word t he may go way." 
 
 "He says he likes me," said Anny, simply. 
 
 "All the same he may take a fit V go. N then if ye 
 keerd so much fer im, wot ud ye do ?" 
 
 Anny set her plate down on the table, rolled her drying- 
 towel into a ball in her hands, and stood for several min 
 utes staring straight before her. 
 
 " I ain t seen er when she looked like she was thinkiii 
 
208 
 
 so fast/ said Phoebe Ellen to herself " not sence she got 
 hurt. Wot 11 she fin lly say, I wonder ?" 
 
 Evidently the girl s thoughts had wandered far, for her 
 first words seemed altogether irrelevant. 
 
 " The purty little yaller chicken wot the waggin run 
 over wunst ye member it ?" she finally asked. 
 
 " Is she gittin loonier n ever ?" was Phoebe Ellen s first 
 thought. But aloud she said : 
 
 "Yes; I member." 
 
 "Wot d it do ? I can t think/ said the girl, in a dis 
 tressed voice. 
 
 " Do ? It laid still/ said Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " Suthin more, suthin more/ cried Anny. " It laid 
 still, but it done suthin more !" 
 
 " Why, it died. Is that wot ye mean ?" 
 
 " It died," repeated Anny, nodding her head slowly. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen opened her eyes. 
 
 " Ye mean ye d die too, if Sam was to go ?" 
 
 She kept on nodding in the same mechanical way as she 
 picked up her dish, shook out her towel, and went to work 
 again. 
 
 " I d die," she kept repeating. " If Sam was to go, I d 
 die, I d die !" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen shivered. Then, turning suddenly upon 
 the girl : 
 
 " Udye ruther go yerself ?" she asked. 
 
 "Me? Go?" 
 
 " N Sam stay ere. Wot then ?" 
 
 " I d die, I d die," chanted the girl, in a tone which split 
 into discord and made a horrible sound in her throat. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen said nothing more just then, but later in 
 the afternoon, when they were seated together on the ve 
 randa, she took up the subject once more. 
 
 "Ye member how purty the world looks when ye 
 stan high up on the mountain ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Anny, rocking busily back and forth in her 
 
209 
 
 chair. " I member I member." She nodded her head, 
 several times,, and then peeped out under the veranda 
 eaves,, where she could see the tops of the foot-hills. 
 
 " Sam took ye up there wunst," said Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " It s purty, purty, purty up there !" intoned the girl, in 
 her high, cracked voice. " Sam went with me, n I had a 
 fine, fine time I" 
 
 " Ye kin see way off, ever n ever so fur." 
 
 " Way off way off ! Sam told me he d been there." 
 
 " Wouldn t ye like to go there too, some day ?" 
 
 " Some day ?" 
 
 " Jes to see how it looks clost to." 
 
 " Oh yes, where Sam was. He tole me bout it, way 
 off" 
 
 " Mebbe I ll let ye go, if ye re good." 
 
 " I ll be good !" 
 
 But the childish eagerness in the face gave way first to 
 a look of vacancy, then of wistfulness. 
 
 " Sam kin go, too ?" she asked. 
 
 " No ; Sam 11 have to stay to hum n work." 
 
 " Then I don t want to go !" 
 
 " But if ye had to go ?" 
 
 "No, I won t have to go; I ll stay. Where Sam is, I 
 want to be. It s lonesome, lonesome, lonesome, when 
 Sam s gone on the range. He s been gone all day. LI 
 he never come back ? Ain t it time fer im to be back 
 now ? Wot. makes ye talk like this when he s gone ?" 
 
 " It s a purty world out there. They s houses n folks 
 n purty things in stores wot ye could buy with money. 
 N ye could take a long ride, fust on the buckboard n 
 then on the cars " 
 
 " I should die I should die thout Sam !" 
 
 " But if Sam couldn t go ?" 
 
 "Then I couldn t, nuther. I want Sam. Sam s my 
 sunshine Sam s my star. I should die thout Sam, I 
 know !" 
 
 14 
 
210 
 
 The monotonous iteration wore on Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " Well, we won t talk "bout it no more/ she said, crossly. 
 
 " W I won t have to go ?" 
 
 " If I tell ye to, ye ll go ye kin make shore o that," 
 she declared. 
 
 But Anny s face grew clouded as she realized she had 
 displeased her sister. 
 
 " Sis is cross," she said, wistfully. " Why, why ?" 
 
 " Cause ye re a stubborn thing !" was the fierce answer. 
 
 And Anny tried to think what she had done to deserve 
 such treatment, but vainly. However, she was too accus 
 tomed to puzzling over things to be troubled long by her 
 inability to understand ; and presently she wandered out 
 on the mountain-side and sat down in the sun, where the 
 chipmunks came frisking and chattering about her. 
 
 "I know wot they say, but I can t tell it," she used to 
 declare. And often it seemed to Sam that the girl told 
 the truth. 
 
 And as Phoebe Ellen sat on the porch with her mend 
 ing she saw Sam whisk up to the barn on his scraggly 
 little mustang and enter at the back door. 
 
 " I wonder if he s had his dinner," she pondered. 
 " Prob ly he has, over to Halstead s. If he ain t, I kin 
 warm over them mashed pertaters n give im some ham 
 V eggs." 
 
 Presently he emerged from the barn with his pipe in 
 his mouth. 
 
 " If he ketches sight o sis, he ll start straight torrards 
 er unless he s hungry," she thought. And she watched 
 to see what direction his steps would finally take. 
 
 And, sure enough, after a leisurely glance in all direc 
 tions, his eye fell on Anny as she sat full in the sun on 
 the mountain-side ; and without a glance at Phoebe Ellen 
 he turned to the left, skirted the corral, crossed the over 
 flow from the spring, and swung upward among the pines 
 with long strides. 
 
211 
 
 "That s allus the way," said Phcobe Ellen to herself. 
 " Whenever he ain t busy n she s alone, ye ll find em 
 driftin together s shore s two chips on a tub o water. 
 Wot kin he see in er now, I wonder ? I know she was 
 purty V had nice ways when she was herself. She could 
 talk interesting too, n I didn t blame im fer takin to er 
 the fast time they met. But now I wonder if she ll mem 
 ber wot I ve been sayin to er bout goin off V leavin im? 
 I shouldn t be s prised. She s been pickin up wonder 
 ful lately, even in looks. Her mem ry s twicet s good s 
 twas a month ago, only she can t 1 arn books. She ain t 
 got beyend yit. But she kin foller wot ye say better, 
 n she kin tell er own thorts straighter. Well, wot if 
 she does let im know ? He might s well be gittin ready 
 fer it. She s got to go." 
 
 And she picked up her mending and set to work with a 
 grim look about her hard, thin mouth. 
 
 Sam seated himself on a rock around which the vetches 
 grew thick among the mountain-sage, and some late blue 
 bells swayed lightly among heavy purple tufts of early 
 asters. 
 
 " N how s the chipmunks to-day?" was his greeting 
 as he drew up his big feet and clasped his hands between 
 his knees. " Talkin same s ever ?" 
 
 "Jes the same," Anny intoned, smiling back at him. 
 "Jes the same s ever !" 
 
 He blew a leisurely whiff of smoke into the air. 
 
 " Ye look oncommon smart to-day," he remarked, fix 
 ing his kind dark eyes upon her. "Oncommon smart, I 
 swear !" 
 
 "Smart? Yes. So s the chipmunks. The little un 
 there with the stripes so plain up n down his back s been 
 tellin me bout the pine-nuts he s got stored up in a hol 
 ler tree jest up the hill. Sech a lot o em stored up in a 
 cosey dark corner he tole me cause he said he knowed I d 
 never go n steal em away. N the big un t run away 
 
when ye come up he ain t half s brave s wot he makes 
 out ! he was jes tellin me how nothin ever skeerd him 
 now ; he d got used to folks n stood still n made faces 
 at em when they come by !" 
 
 f N I skeerd im away, hey ?" 
 
 " Yes. But when he run he looked over his shoulder 
 n -promised to come back. He seen I needed im." 
 
 "Needed im ?" inquired Sam between whiffs. 
 
 She nodded gravely. 
 
 ."I was feelin sorter blue, n he seen it, n said he d 
 stay n 7 comfort me. N he did ; n he tole me to cheer 
 up V not keer. He said he d had troubles, too, but they 
 passed off. He said everything allus comes out right." 
 
 " Troubles ?" 
 
 He didn t have time to tell me all bout em, but he 
 talked jes s sensible ! He said " 
 
 "But troubles ; you hain t got no troubles, now," said 
 Sam. 
 
 " I don t have many, do I ?" The lines of the wistful, 
 vacant face became set in a deprecative smile. " Some 
 how I don t feel things. I feel like I orter I sorter 
 member when I did ; but I can t do it now. They ain t 
 nobody but you n sis wot I keer fer reely." 
 
 "Ye do keer fer me ?" asked Sam, softly. He re 
 moved his pipe and sat regarding her with a sort of rever 
 ence. 
 
 " Oh, ye know I do I ve told ye over n over. But 
 other things somehow I don t keer. I ain t allus happy, 
 but I can t tell how tis ! I don t cry much, nuther, 
 not s much s wot I d like to ; but they s suthin 
 suthin " 
 
 " Gone out o ye, somehow ?" suggested Sam. 
 
 She caught at the words eagerly. 
 
 " Gone out o me yes, gone out o me ; that s wot I 
 meant. Gone out o me oh, like I ain t wot I was long 
 ago." 
 
213 
 
 " Afore ye got hurt V was sick ?" 
 
 Sam s pipe had gone out now, and after noticing the 
 fact in an absent way, he withdrew the stem from the bowl, 
 as his custom was, and thrust them both into his pocket. 
 
 "Sometimes," she said,, dreamily "sometimes I kin 
 almos member I strain my mind, n I kin almos mem 
 ber. But suthin allus stops me. It s like " 
 
 "Like what?" he suggested, as she hesitated. And 
 she went on with a catching of her breath. 
 
 "It s like a cloud on the mountain ye look V look, 
 n ye can t see the mountain, though ye allus know it s 
 there." 
 
 Sam had never heard her talk so lucidly and con 
 nectedly. 
 
 "The cloud allus goes," he said, gently, " n the 
 mountain comes out clear." 
 
 She fetched another long breath, and this time there 
 was something like a sob in it. 
 
 "If it ud only go so t I could look back to wot I was 
 afore I got hurt that day ! LI it ever go so t I kin do 
 that, d ye reckon ?" 
 
 " Ye re a-gittin better right along," he assured her. 
 
 " Shore ?" 
 
 " Doc says ye re better every time he sees ye/ he de 
 clared. 
 
 " I like the Doc. He s allus good to me. Do I act bet 
 ter ? I /^better!" 
 
 " Ever s much better ever 11 ever s much better. If 
 ye keep on, ye will git well, I feel shore o it !" His face 
 had lighted up, and hers caught an answering glow. 
 
 "Mebbe mebbe, by- n -by/ she cried, clasping her 
 hands in a sort of spasm "mebbe I ll be myself agin. 
 Oh, if I could" 
 
 "Ye re improvin right along," he iterated. 
 
 "It s a dretful thing not to know anything bout yer- 
 self but wot folks tells ye !" 
 
214 
 
 She rose with a convulsive jerk, and faced him as if she 
 were flinging aside a veil which obscured her sight. Then, 
 all at once,, instead of the burst of light he half expected 
 to see in her eyes, a dazed look came into her face, a sort 
 of film such as he had before seen grow into her features 
 after her mind had been subjected to too severe a strain. 
 
 " Don t worry, don t worry bout it," he said, sooth 
 ingly. "It 11 come right it 11 come right." 
 
 Her eyes cleared a little, as if his voice had power to 
 dispel the clouds which enveloped her. 
 
 "The chipmunks don t have reel troubles, do they?" 
 she asked, as she seated herself at his feet. "Not reel 
 troubles like mine. They don t worry. Why should I ?" 
 
 " No, don t worry. Be s glad s ye kin. Only be glad 
 that s the best !"* 
 
 "I m happy when ye re with me." Her face had 
 brightened once more. Then she remembered Phoebe 
 Ellen s vague insinuations. " But sometimes when I m 
 alone with sis " 
 
 " What s she been sayin to ye ?" 
 
 " Sech dretful things !" 
 
 " Things to make ye onhappy, hey ?" 
 
 She nodded, and he could see that her throat was flut 
 tering. 
 
 "Ye ain t agoin away, be ye ?" she broke out. "Tell 
 me, ye ain t agoin away ?" 
 
 Sam opened his eyes very wide. 
 
 "She told ye I was ?" he asked. 
 
 She nodded dumbly. Then, with an effort : 
 
 "She said ye might." 
 
 "No, no," he soothed her, "I ain t goin away." 
 
 The piteous face brightened again, and the girl crept 
 close and laid her cheek against his knee. 
 
 "I told er ye wouldn t," she declared. "I told er I 
 knowed ye wouldn t leave me. I knowed ye keerd for 
 me. I told er so." 
 
215 
 
 His big hand fell softly upon her hair. 
 
 "No ; I won t leave ye," he repeated. 
 
 "Never?" 
 
 " Never." He uttered the word solemnly. It was like 
 a vow. 
 
 She lifted her shoulders in a long sigh of relief. 
 
 "I knowed ye wouldn t I knowed ye wouldn t," she 
 kept repeating to herself. Then, after a long, vacant stare 
 at the mountains, as if her mind were wandering, she came 
 once more to herself. " If she was to send me away, ye d 
 go with me, wouldn t ye ?" she asked, her old wistfulness 
 returning. 
 
 " Yes," he assured her. " I d go with ye, wherever she 
 sent ye." 
 
 " She said I might go way, ye know/ 
 
 "Yer sister?" 
 
 She nodded vacantly. 
 
 " Her. Down there," she said, pointing. 
 
 Again Sam s eyes opened wide and his brows went up. 
 
 " Ye might be mistook bout er sayin that," he said, 
 quietly. 
 
 "Mistook ?" she repeated, with vague inquiry. 
 
 "Ye might V thcfrt she said it when she didn t." He 
 was thinking how she heard the flowers and animals talk. 
 
 "No," she said, very seriously, and Sam knew that she 
 spoke the truth. " She said "t mebbe I d have to go way. 
 I heerd er. She was stan in by the sink. She was cross." 
 
 Sam s brows came down as he meditated. 
 
 " Did she say ye d have to go fer shore ?" 
 
 "No; only mebbe." 
 
 " Did she say why ?" 
 
 "No ; only t mebbe I d have to go." 
 
 " Oh," said Sam, slowly, after his habitual pause. " I 
 onderstan , I onderstan ." He reached down and took 
 both Anny s hands in his. " Has it tired ye to talk s 
 much ?" he asked, tenderly. " Yer face looks worn out. 
 
216 
 
 Don t worry, little un don t worry. Sam 11 look arter 
 ye. Sam 11 allus be roun to see t things goes right. W 
 if I leave, ye shall go with me ; V if ye leave, I ll foller. 
 Ye b lieve me, don t ye ? Don t worry. Stay ere V talk 
 some more to the chipmunks they re merry little chaps, 
 V 11 cheer ye up. Or if ye feel like it, lay down on 
 the pine-needles n go to sleep. I got some things to 
 look arter down to the barn." 
 
 He bent with the light of love in his kind eyes and 
 kissed the girl s forehead as reverently as the devotee 
 might have kissed the brow of a pictured saint. Then he 
 left her with a forward fling of his huge body, and landed 
 at the bottom of the mountain in three strides. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 PHOEBE ELLEN S kindness for Sam became more and 
 more apparent as time went on, and the nods and winks 
 of the cowboys became pronounced to the point of vio 
 lence. As for Sam, he was conscious in a half-amused 
 way that he was overwhelmingly approved of. He would 
 have been more or less than human had he been blind to 
 his mistress s side-glances or deaf to the softened tones in 
 which she addressed him after addressing another. He 
 had a sort of elephantine alertness to the bits of ribbon 
 she stuck on in becoming places when no one but him 
 was likely to be around, and, more than all, he had an eye 
 to the occasions she found for being alone with him, too 
 frequent for the discussion of the business of the ranch, 
 and often running into personal themes altogether after 
 the few introductory words on the condition of the cattle 
 over Baldwin way, or the advisability of putting in alfalfa 
 on the slope beyond the river where irrigation was im 
 practicable. 
 
 Sam saw these things truly, but he gave them a mild 
 interpretation. He was not a lady s man, and saw noth 
 ing in the average petticoat beyond the probable price of 
 the goods it was made of. Had he stopped to analyze his 
 feeling for Phoebe Ellen he would have found it to be 
 something in the nature of the magnanimous tolerance of 
 a healthy man for a hysterical woman whose spasms would 
 probably never turn violent at least, in his presence. 
 That she cared enough for him to make a fight for him, 
 or that he was in any way worth fighting for, never entered 
 his head. 
 
218 
 
 Even after his conversation with Anny on the moun 
 tain-side his eyes were not fully opened. Something was 
 abroad which he did not understand something which 
 concerned himself, inasmuch as it concerned the afflicted 
 girl in whom his interest centred more than in any other 
 human being. The talk of her going away had a mean 
 ing he could not tell just what. He could hardly be 
 lieve that her statement had originated altogether in her 
 imagination ; he had never seen her so clear-headed, so 
 nearly herself, since the accident. And yet in the same 
 breath she had babbled about what the chipmunks said 
 and a hundred things which were utterly without founda 
 tion in fact. 
 
 "If they s anything in it, I mus know it," was his 
 thought. "I ll hang roun the ranch more 11 Fve been 
 doin , V let the range look arter itself. Wot I ve got to 
 do s to keep my eyes V ears open, V put things together 
 n onderstan em." 
 
 While he was in this state of expectancy he got a real 
 revelation. It came from Pinky, as the two were driv 
 ing over from Eden City to the ranch. 
 
 Ever since Pinky had acquiesced in the arrangement to 
 wait till next June for a definite answer to his suit, 
 the depot-man had been in a state of agitation about one 
 thing. He wanted to make sure of Sam s potential feel 
 ings for the heiress. He had no reason to believe that 
 the giant cared for her on any other than the legitimate 
 grounds of friendship. But he was far from satisfied. 
 And yet, why should he not know the whole truth ? 
 There could be no possible objection on Sam s part to 
 an open and frank avowal of sentiments. Pinky had 
 little of the commodity about him which is ordinarily 
 known as delicacy. His actions were largely business ar 
 rangements throughout, and it was with this understand 
 ing of his own motives that he proposed to probe Sam s 
 feelings. 
 
219 
 
 " Ye know the missus," he remarked, in as casual a way 
 as he could assume. "Her ye know; the missus of the 
 ranch." 
 
 Sam gave him a sideward glance of surprise. 
 
 "Well, I should say," was his answer, after a deliberate 
 study of Pinky s face. 
 
 Pinky twiddled his thumbs in rosy anxiety. 
 
 "Ye member the fust time ye met er over there to the 
 depot ?" he continued. 
 
 Sam grinned. 
 
 "I member," he answered, still with his eyes on his 
 companion. 
 
 " Ye member how I made up to er, don t ye ? How 
 we kep hollerin to each other so kind o fectionate arter 
 ye started off hollerin till we couldn t hear each other 
 no more ?" 
 
 Sam s grin grew broader. 
 
 "I member," he repeated. 
 
 Pinky rubbed a meditative hand up and down his knee 
 an operation which seemed to send the blood to his 
 head and finished by smoothing the back of his freckled 
 neck. 
 
 " I reckon they wa n t no diseountin the meanin o it 
 leastways on my side," he remarked. 
 
 Sam s grin had hitched up the corners of his big 
 mustache to a level with his nose. 
 
 " Oh, it was easy nough onderstan in you" he re- 
 remarked. 
 
 " Well," said Pinky, his embarrassment subsiding a lit 
 tle as he found himself well under way, " I ve kep the 
 same thing a-goin ever sense ye ll have to own up to 
 that." 
 
 " That s right !" was Sam s affirmative response. 
 
 " W I m a-goin to keep it up. When I see a thing I 
 want, whether it s a pipe or a stick o chewin -gum or a 
 gaL I git it if I kin. They ain t none o yer stan -up-in- 
 
220 
 
 the-corner-V-holler-fer-buttermilk bout me. I go in to 
 win with sech showin s s I kin find. N if I don t win 
 well, there I be !" 
 
 " No wnss off n wot ye was afore/ commented Sam, 
 relaxing his smile and giving a momentary attention to 
 the off mustang, who was " sojering." 
 
 " Jesso. No wuss off n wot I was afore. That s the 
 way I look at it no wuss off n wot I was afore. Well, 
 but her that s harder." 
 
 " That s so," assented Sam. " Gals is queer. Ye never 
 kin tell bout gals." 
 
 " A gal well, that s so. Ye can t tell where ye re at 
 with a gal, nohow. Ye make shore ye got er solid when 
 lo n behold ! she s trickled through yer fingers, n 
 there ye stan a-lookiii at em with nothin left but " 
 
 " Mud," interrupted Sam. 
 
 " Mud," assented Pinky, with a grave nod. " That s 
 right nothin but mud. Somehow, I d know how, but 
 pears like it s a gal s way. D you onderstan er that day 
 over to the depot ?" 
 
 Sam s answer came after a pause. 
 
 " Reckon I did," he finally said. 
 
 Pinky meditated a moment, and then it became evident 
 that he caught the hidden meaning of the words. 
 
 "/didn t not till arterwards," he said. 
 
 Sam raised his eyebrows and grinned. 
 
 f l mean it," declared Pinky, quite seriously. " I 
 onderstan the hull darn bizness, I do !" 
 
 Sam s amusement was altogether in his eyes as he 
 asked : 
 
 " Wot d ye mean by the hull darn bizness, anyhow ?" 
 
 " Her n me s talked it all over well, that don t count 
 nohow, fer I knowed it afore. But lookee ere ! She 
 keerd fer ye at the start, she s keerd fer ye all long, n 
 that ere performance over to the depot was her way o 
 tryin to bring ye to time." 
 
221 
 
 8am turned to his horses, and the look of amusement 
 died out of his eyes. 
 
 " Wot o all that ?" he inquired, touching up the mus 
 tang once more. 
 
 " Wot o that ? It means ye ve got the inside track V 
 kin keep it s long s ye like that s wot ! It means t I 
 ain t nowheres." Pinky s tone was bitter. 
 
 " All this ere ain t my fun ral," remarked Sam, after 
 his habitual moment of deliberation. " Wot ye comin 
 at me with it fer ? Why don t ye go to her?" 
 
 " I did, V she owned up to it," declared Pinky. 
 "We had to come to a settlement, V she let the hull 
 thing out. She likes me next arter wot she does you she 
 said so ; but while they s a chance o gittin fust choice, I 
 ain t nowheres, o course. She s jes like me bout gittin 
 wot she wants she does it if she kin, n I don t blame er. 
 Well, that s all right. But tain t wot I started to say." 
 
 " I m ready fer anything else," said Sam, touching up 
 the off mustang again. 
 
 After a brief twisting in his seat first in one direction 
 and then in the other, Pinky continued : 
 
 " Wot I want to know s bout yerself. Ud ye mind 
 tellin me frank V plain ? It s all atween me n you, n 
 I don t see wot harm it could do to let me know. N it 
 ud ease up on me like anything if I made shore ye didn t 
 keer fer er. I know ye ain t never let on like ye was 
 in love with er ; but a feller can t allus tell. It s jest 
 atween friends, ye know. Twouldn t go no farther." 
 
 Sam deliberated. 
 
 " N-no. I d know s wot I mind tellin ye my state o 
 mind, if it 11 make ye easier. But fust I want to know 
 one thing." 
 
 Pinky s red face screwed itself inquiringly in his direc 
 tion. Sam s question came after a pause, which gave it 
 weight. 
 
 " Is she goin to make a fight fer me ?" 
 
222 
 
 Pinky looked startled. 
 
 Sam s question became a demand. 
 
 "Is she goin to make a fight fer me if I don t want 
 er ?" 
 
 " She didn t say nothin bout fightin ," said Pinky, 
 somewhat sullenly. Then, with a quick glance at Sam s 
 set face : "Wot d ye mean by fightin , anyhow ?" 
 
 "Ye needn t let on t ye don t onderstan . But I ll 
 make myself plainer. Is she ready to put some other gal 
 at a disadvantage I m namin no names, mind so s to 
 give erself a better chance ? Is that wot she s up to ?" 
 
 Pinky s jaw dropped. 
 
 " Good Lord ! S if she would ! S if they was any 
 other gal !" he cried. But there was a false note in his 
 disclaimer. 
 
 " They is another gal," said Sam, quietly. 
 
 Pinky looked almost pale. 
 
 " The little un ?" he inquired, after a pause. 
 
 " Tain t no credit to yer wits to know it arter all ye 
 must V seen. I d jes s soon the hull world ud know it I 
 ain t shamed. N the one hope o my life is t she ll git 
 well ag in well nough so t she ll know er own mind 
 bout marryin me, V we can go afore a justice o the 
 peace n have the knot tied thout my feelin like I was 
 takin a mean advantage. Lookee ere ! I may s well be 
 plain with ye. I know wot the missus is goin to do." 
 
 He fixed Pinky s eye so fiercely that the young man 
 turned away. 
 
 " She s goin to send the pore little gal out o the kentry, 
 cause she knows I keer fer er." 
 
 Pinky s telltale color came back with a rush and the 
 truth stood confessed. 
 
 "No matter how I know," cried Sam, in answer to the 
 question in Pinky s face. "I know, V that s nough. 
 N ye re in the scheme I know that, too. Hey ? Be ye 
 goin to deny it ? Ye might s well own up." 
 
223 
 
 Pinky took time to recover partially from his crushed 
 attitude, and then found courage to say : 
 
 "Well, it was her idee. She wanted me to help er, n 
 I didn t see how I could git out o it. I don t see wot 
 wrong they is in it. The gal ud be well took keer of. 
 But o course if yer mind s made up not to marry er " 
 
 Sam flung his head back, and there was a light in his 
 usually kind eyes which made Pinky quail. 
 
 " My mind s my own !" he cried. " Wot I want to know 
 s this : be ye goin to tell the missus wot we ve been 
 talkin"bout to-day?" 
 
 Pinky s freckles stood out with startling distinctness 
 upon his thin skin. 
 
 "If ye don t want me to, o course I won t," he stam 
 mered. 
 
 " Then ye won t," said Sam, briefly. 
 
 " Tain t nothin t she has to know," said Pinky, in 
 vindication of his ready compliance. 
 
 Sam turned full upon him and laid his huge left hand 
 upon his collar. Then, with a cold thrill, Pinky realized 
 that the iron fingers were drawing together in the cloth 
 of his coat. 
 
 "If ye tell " Sam lifted his companion from the seat 
 and gave him a little shake as a testimonial of what he 
 could do in that line if he liked" if ye do, I ll break 
 every bone in yer body ! Ye hear me !" 
 
 Pinky shrank together under that grasp of iron. 
 
 " I won t tell," he promised, cowed like a whipped boy 
 under the hand of his master. He was dreadfully fright 
 ened, but even so, he had not lost sight of the main point. 
 He wanted a definite statement from Sam. "Then ye ve 
 made up yer mind ye won t marry er fer shore ?" 
 
 " Marry er !" roared Sam, facing him with blazing 
 eyes. "I d see er in hell fust !" 
 
 And he lashed his horses into a gallop. 
 
 " I ve seen im mad, but never like that afore," thought 
 
224 
 
 Pinky, shrinking as far as possible into his corner of the 
 seat. " Shall I tell er he said he d see er in hell afore 
 he d marry er ? It might hurry up the weddin fer me ; 
 but she d be shore to let it out, somehow. It ud have to 
 come out if she fired im or made more o me n wot she s 
 been doin . No, I ll keep my mouth shet ; I ain t ripe 
 fer heaven jes yit. But if I don t marry er nex June 
 all right, I m a turkey !" 
 
 And the two men exchanged not another word during 
 the journey. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 FOR several days Sam hardly knew what to do with 
 Pinky s revelation. He felt ready for anything, but noth 
 ing seemed as yet ready for him. Events moved on at 
 such a comfortable jog-trot that it was difficult to imagine 
 a hitch anywhere in the mechanism of the world. The 
 ranch people got up early, worked hard at tasks which on 
 the morrow had to be done over again, glorified God in a 
 few of their actions and shamed Him in many, and went 
 to bed with an unformulated sense of having lived. Why 
 not ? They put in their time, and that is what life con 
 sists of, chiefly. hey lived because they didn t die, and 
 the wisest of us can hardly account for ourselves more 
 completely. 
 
 But it was a season of unusual anxiety for Sam. He 
 went about with a busy frown between his eyebrows which 
 betokened a soul ill at ease. He lay awake at night this 
 fact inclined him at times to the belief that he was a sick 
 man trying to plan out what he should do. But he 
 never came to any conclusion except that he must wait 
 for some overt act on the part of the missus ; he must be 
 ready, must have himself in hand, so as as to act vigorous 
 ly at a moment s notice vigorously to the extent of vio 
 lence, if the need should rise. 
 
 " I know the little un wouldn t want to go," he said to 
 himself, " if she had er way bout it ; I know she d rtither 
 stay ere where I be. N I ain t a-goin to stan aroun* 
 V see er carted off like she was a bag o meal or a sick 
 calf, jes cause she ain t got the will to stan up fer 
 erself. /kin stan up fer both o us, if they s need o it ; 
 
 16 
 
226 
 
 n I ll do it, too, when the time comes, missus or no 
 missus !" 
 
 He no longer went out on the range with the "boys," 
 but remained about the ranch, watching, listening, peer 
 ing. One could detect a spark in his kind, slow eyes 
 which had not been there before. He followed Phoebe 
 Ellen with an assiduity which she misunderstood it 
 was sad and funny to see how ready she was to misun 
 derstand if the prospect of her happiness brightened there 
 byand which he was obliged to modify for very shame. 
 More than once he leaped from his bed at night with a 
 reflex readiness for danger as some unusual sound broke 
 the stillness, and stood with strained nerves listening for 
 something to confirm his nightmare impression that the 
 mistress was carrying the little 7 un away by main force 
 while the girl was calling him in shrill anguish ; but al 
 ways he could see from his window by the cold, glaring 
 moon that it was only the horses lurching against the 
 corral in some aimless midnight escapade, or the dogs re 
 turning from an onrush at some fancied enemy approach 
 ing from the shadows of the pines. And he would stand 
 at the window for an hour or more, pondering and ponder 
 ing, till his thoughts seemed made of metal and clanked 
 as he turned them over and over in his mind. And when 
 he went back to bed he carried with him as something 
 threatening an impression of the mountains surging dark 
 ly up from the horizon, and of countless stars falling in a 
 luminous drizzle down the dizzy precipice of the sky. 
 Pinky had been in earnest there could be no doubt about 
 that. The little un was to be taken away, but how and 
 when Sam could only surmise. Perhaps the mistress 
 herself did not know, but Sam was sure that her mind 
 was made up to the fact. And he kept his eye on 
 Anny as if afraid she might be snatched away bodily in 
 some unguarded moment when his back happened to be 
 turned. 
 
227 
 
 If she were only in her right mind, so that he could 
 talk to her as to a grown woman and tell her of his love ! 
 She loved him yes, he knew that as a child loves its 
 big brother, nothing more. He could expect nothing else 
 in her present state indeed, anything else was impossi 
 ble. But if she were to get well ? The bare idea made 
 him catch his breath. And she was certainly improving 
 slowly, to be sure, but unmistakably improving. He no 
 ticed the change day by day with a sense of joyful pos 
 session in her increased power of speech and thought. 
 Her very appearance was changing. She stepped more 
 firmly and regularly ; she stumbled and fell less often ; 
 her will was more apparent in the use of her hands, her 
 tongue ; her eye was brighter ; her very outline looked 
 more intelligent. She observed and reported more ac 
 curately. She discriminated with a finer perception of 
 resemblance and contrast. Her voice was less harsh and 
 strident, and expressed finer shades of feeling. She was 
 even learning to reason. 
 
 " If she was to git well " 
 
 Sam often began the thought, but his imagination never 
 completed it except by a question-mark. He could not 
 be so sure of her in her strength as in her helplessness. 
 Now she needed him, but of what use could he be to her 
 if she were to become the glorified vision of his first 
 acquaintance ? Sam s love made him humble, and he 
 could think of the possible change with no other feeling 
 than doubt mixed with faint, pathetic hopefulness. She 
 loved him if not as a woman, at least as a child ; and if 
 she were to get well he might lose even that, and he saw 
 himself hovering mutely about the edge of her horizon, 
 venturing only on an occasional look of awed wonder. 
 Still, she had seemed to like him as they rode home from 
 the depot on that never-to-be-forgotten day of the acci 
 dent ; he had discovered in her manner, without being 
 able to formulate it, the suffusive eagerness which is a 
 
228 
 
 woman s way of confessing that she is impressed and 
 wishes to give an impression. Some of her remarks had 
 been too shy for ordinary conversation, others had been 
 too bold. She had smiled a good deal, sometimes trem 
 ulously, often with the effect of trying to appear serious ; 
 and her eye had a way of refusing to be fixed by his of 
 slipping beyond it to some remote point in the mountains, 
 or settling upon the top button of his jacket, all of which 
 pleased him in the remembrance and which he thought 
 he understood. But if he had been mistaken ? Women 
 are so incomprehensible and so nice ! 
 
 If she was to git well, would she marry me ?" He 
 always finished with the question. If not, how he would 
 miss the childish trustfulness of the clouded intellect 
 with which he w^as still so divinely dissatisfied ! And if 
 she should learn to care for him well, what would that 
 be like ? Heaven, of course ; what else ? A heaven of 
 insatiate joys which Sam, in the materialism of healthy 
 manhood, would not exchange for all the glorified, winged, 
 harp-playing angels of the Apocalypse. 
 
 One day, while he was brooding over these things, he 
 had an inspiration. 
 
 " She s so much better, Vso much depends on whether 
 she s likely to keep on improvin ," he reflected, e "t I ll jes 
 take er over to Halstead s V see wot Doc Sedgwick 
 thinks o her. He ain t seen er sence she reely begun to 
 pick up, n I shouldn t wonder if he could tell if it s likely 
 to go on. If tain t, I orter know it, cause then I won t 
 build no hopes on er ; n if tis, I want to know it, cause 
 then I ll keep a-picterin o er as Mrs. Sam Tinker. N 
 the Doc s so sorter weak he can t come over ere thout a 
 heap o trouble ; he fainted dead away t other day, Hal- 
 stead tole me, arter a little climb behind the barn. Sides, 
 he d better see er when the missus ain t aroun . They 
 ain t no tellin wot she might do." 
 
 Sam scratched his ear meditatively. 
 
229 
 
 "But how to git 7 er away ?" 
 
 At first lie was inclined to finesse, and he thought of a 
 dozen pretexts under which he might carry oft the girl and 
 attain his object ; but he disliked them. It was his nature 
 to be es open and above-board," as the saying is, and any 
 thing short of that left him dissatisfied with himself. 
 But at last an interview with old man Halstead gave him 
 a chance which seemed more direct and natural, though 
 even this was not all that he desired. 
 
 " Ole Halstead says they s one o our steers got in among 
 his n, 7 n if I ll go over to-morrer he ll help me cut it 
 out," he said one afternoon, when he and Phoebe Ellen 
 were together. 
 
 She looked up from her mending, settling it with a 
 jerk in the centre of her lap. 
 
 " Want breakfast airly ?" she inquired. 
 
 I reckon I ll have time nough if I git off a little arter 
 eight," he answered. " Breakfast won t have to be hur 
 ried. But I was thinkin o suthin else." 
 
 "Want one o 7 the boys to g long ? Lengthy Bill s good 
 at that, ain t he ? Or Skinny Joe ? Or Sufferin Peter ?" 
 
 " Any one o 7 em ud do. But they s work fer all o em 
 up Corpse Gulch, n I reckon I kin git along with wot 
 help the ole man kin gimme. Wot I wanted was to hitch 
 up the buckboard V give the little un a day off. It ud 
 do er a power o good." 
 
 " Sis ?" Phoebe Ellen took his request more quietly 
 than he had expected in his broodings he had drama 
 tized her as refusing flatly but he noticed a droop and a 
 twitch at the corner of her thin mouth which he had 
 learned to regard as a danger-signal. She readjusted her 
 mending, tucking it in so that no smallest edge projected 
 over her lap. " Wot could she do to help you ?" 
 
 "Nothin to help me, s I knows on." 
 
 " Oh ! ye wanted er comp ny ?" 
 
 " Jesso I want er comp ny. Sides that, a ride ud 
 
230 
 
 do er good don t ye reckon so ? V the weather s like 
 summer." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen s nostrils expanded slightly. 
 
 "I ve allus treated er well ye know it," she declared. 
 " Ye ain t got no reason to try to git er away from 
 me." 
 
 "Git er away from ye no! But it ud be a nice 
 change fer er, V she s so fond o ridin ." 
 
 "With you yes/ muttered Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 Sam heard, but took no notice. 
 
 " Sides," he went on, " Mis Halstead s ast me time n 
 agin to fetch er over to spen the day. It ud do er good 
 to git out n stir roun more n wot she does. It ud 
 brighten er up n give er idees." 
 
 Her eyes were fixed upon his with hard examination. 
 
 " Anything else ?" she asked. The words came so easily 
 that somehow they seemed unnatural. 
 
 Sam met her look placidly. Something told him that 
 he would have his own way if he owned up to the sim 
 ple truth. That pleased him best, and he resolved to 
 try it. 
 
 " Lately it s been comin over me stronger n stronger," 
 he said, " t the little un s gittin better right straight 
 along." He paused to see if she understood the full 
 bearings of his speech, but detected nothing in her an 
 swering gaze but a look of attention which had been fixed 
 involuntarily. " Ye ve noticed it ?" 
 
 Her eyes drooped to her mending, but she made no 
 attempt to resume her needle. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, in the same facile, subdued voice. 
 "I ve noticed it fer some time." 
 
 Sam took up the word more eagerly. 
 
 "I ve been goin to speak to ye bout it," he declared, 
 leaning towards her in his interest, " but I kep puttin it 
 off. Sides, I didn t know but wot I might be mistook. 
 N then" 
 
231 
 
 Ye didn t know how I d take it ?" There was some 
 thing dreadful in the smooth bitterness of the words,, but 
 he would have been ashamed to notice. 
 
 " Now, wot I was thinkiii was this." He brought the 
 index finger of his right hand to the thumb of his left as 
 if beginning a long enumeration. "I d like Doc Sedg- 
 wick to see er. Fd like to know wot he thinks o er. 
 He can t come over here leastways, the ride ud be bad 
 fer im. So wot s the matter with takin er over there ?" 
 His enumeration stopped suddenly, and he sat erect with 
 his palms spread on his knees. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen was fumbling with her work again. 
 
 " I d rather he wouldn t come over, anyhow," she said, 
 in a low voice. " I got trouble nough thout havin him 
 aroun . " 
 
 "I reckoned so I membered yer hatred o him. N 
 the little un could stay with im. while I went to look arter 
 the steer, V he could make up his mind bout er. If she s 
 goin to git well " 
 
 " She won t git well she can t git well !" The words 
 seemed choked from her by a grasp of iron. 
 
 Sam went on with undisturbed equanimity. 
 
 That may be so, too ; V if tis, we want to know it. 
 We want to know it either way, fer it means a heap to all 
 o us. It does to me." He intended the emphasis as a 
 confession of his feelings why should he not confess ? 
 and he saw that she so understood it. 
 
 It means a heap to me, too," she supplemented, in a 
 voice that sounded more smothered than before. 
 
 " She kin go, then ?" 
 
 For a moment she sat relaxed and silent, bending for 
 ward with her eyes upon the floor. Then he saw that the 
 muscles of her lean figure were contracting, stiffening, 
 hardening was she making ready for a spring ? The 
 thin gingham dress quivered, loosely sympathizing with 
 the straining flesh and spirit. Then she flung her work 
 
232 
 
 from her with a stiff movement of both hands and came 
 to her feet with a leap. 
 
 "Yes, take er V go!" she cried, with something like 
 a shriek. " Take er take er V go !" Her voice made 
 a sort of clangor in the low room such as he would have 
 believed impossible for a human throat. " But it s the 
 las time, Sam Tinker d ye hear ?" 
 
 And, flinging these words over her shoulder, she dashed 
 from the room. 
 
 Sam remained silent for a little space, then he rose with 
 a sober smile. 
 
 " Yes, HI take er n go," he said, with a series of slow 
 nods. "But the las time that s a big word, Miss 
 Thompson, V we ve yit to see bout that !" 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 " WHEKE S the little tin ?" wondered Sam,, as he passed 
 out upon the veranda. "How happy it 11 make er to 
 be told we re goin a-ridin together to-morrer !" 
 
 He found her at the corral, where she stood thrusting 
 her arm between the upper logs and scratching the nose 
 of a sleepy -eyed bronco with whom she had long ago 
 made friends. She looked pretty and bright and inter 
 ested. "Almost like erself/ thought Sam. "I d like to 
 have a picter o her jes so !" 
 
 And aloud he said : 
 
 " Still makin frien s with Scrubby ? I tell ye, he didn t 
 look s meek s that when yer brother Dan n I was breakin 
 im two year ago ! But say ! ud ye like to go a-ridin 
 with me to-morrer ?" 
 
 He approached and leaned against the corral at her 
 side. "In the blackboard/ he added., looking down ten 
 derly into her eyes. 
 
 Anny s face lighted up. 
 
 "A-ridin ? In the buckboard ? LI sis let me ?" 
 
 "Yer sister says ye kin go." 
 
 " Ye ast er ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Jest us two ?" She had withdrawn her arm from 
 between the logs and was standing erect at arm s-length 
 from Sam s side. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "Jest us two/ he repeated, with his serious smile. 
 
 "W nobody else ?" 
 
 " Nobody else not a soul." 
 
234 
 
 " Not even sis ?" 
 
 " No one but us two/ 
 
 " She ll stay to home f er shore ?" 
 
 "Fer shore." 
 
 She made an awkward little dash at him and seized his 
 hand. 
 
 " How glad I be !" she cried. " How glad how glad !" 
 
 He took her hand in his and smoothed it softly. 
 
 ""We ll have a day to member all our lives !" he said, 
 with an enthusiasm almost as childish as her own. 
 
 They started earlier next morning than Sam expected 
 earlier, in fact, than was altogether agreeable. Phoebe 
 Ellen had breakfast for them at daylight it was a good 
 breakfast, cooked in her very best style and though she 
 was somewhat more silent than usual, there was nothing 
 in her manner directly indicative of resentment or pique. 
 She saw Anny comfortably seated in the buggy, tucked 
 the lap-robe lightly in, and gave a last caution to the 
 afflicted girl not to let her hat blow off. 
 
 "If it does, tell Sam bout it the fust thing," continued 
 the voice of admonition. "It ud be jes like ye to ride 
 long n never miss it fer miles, n he d never notice. A 
 man never does." 
 
 Anny was silent, evidently impressing the lesson of care 
 fulness on her mind. 
 
 " I ll keep watch o it," she finally said, touching the 
 brim with heavy, awkward fingers. With all her improve 
 ment of late, she was by no means normal in her move 
 ments. " I don t want to lose my purty hat. N if it 
 blows off, I ll holler." 
 
 " I ll keep a eye on it, too," promised Sam. And with 
 that they drove away. 
 
 " She took it well, arter all," said he to himself, think 
 ing of Phoebe Ellen as she had appeared during the 
 morning. 
 
 The red dawn was burning dully in the east, and the 
 
235 
 
 shadows lay heavy in the gulches so heavy that under 
 the pendent cliffs of the Hal stead road the night seemed 
 to have settled permanently in a black liquid which over 
 flowed the rocks and trees and left nothing certain but 
 an outline of the hills and a patch of dull sky. The pines 
 looked hardly more substantial than an upgrowth of the 
 desolate shadows ; even after the cold gray gleam of morn 
 ing gave emphasis and purpose to the landscape, the rocks 
 had a spectral effect in the half-light, and the underbrush 
 looked remote and vague. Now the walls of the cliffs 
 closed in and made a twilight through which one half 
 expected gray phantoms to pass and disappear ; now the 
 sky became a streak as cold and white as if the moon were 
 still shining ; now it broadened as the hills fell apart, and 
 they could see the sunrise above stormy pines, and the 
 mountains rising silent and intent as if waiting for an 
 impression of the dawn. And the seething color in the 
 east grew redder and redder ; it heaved, bubbled, broke 
 into fiery spray like red-hot lava shot from Tartarean 
 depths ; it sent a pink reflection back from the gray west; 
 it dropped upon the rocks in red flakes and stuck there. 
 Pale clouds stirred faintly on peaks seen momentarily as 
 a transverse gulch gave a glimpse of the high horizon ; 
 a tremor disturbed the gray trance of the mist as the 
 rising wind passed over it. At best the luminous change 
 of the sky was visible only by spells ; the foot-hills were 
 always thrusting mighty intrusive shoulders in the way. 
 And when the eastern horizon forced its broken red line 
 upon the sight, it looked unreal and strange, like the 
 imaginings of a half-mad painter, with the mountains 
 beneath it plunging down into abysses of aerial gloom. 
 
 At last the red upheaval sent a reflected gleam into the 
 gulches, and a luminous tremor passed along the rocks. 
 The mists turned pink, the rocks grew into a garish 
 prominence, the pines looked as if a stage-light had been 
 thrown upon them. There was a chromatic climax, dur- 
 
236 
 
 ing which the landscape appeared as through red glass ; 
 then the light paled, the landscape took a healthy natural 
 hue, daylight filled the blue dome of the sky, and a sense 
 of satisfaction came over the world after the breathless 
 surprise of the dawning. The beauty and mystery of 
 peak and gulch were fully revealed. The white range in 
 the distance rose like a line of clouds from the sea ; the 
 black surge of pines on the cliff broke towards the road 
 with a liquid roar, then sank back only to heave forward 
 again with a sibilant rush. The birds awakened not 
 to sing, but to lend the excited flutter of their wings to 
 the agitation of awakened Nature. A rabbit bobbed 
 across the road and seated himself comfortably on his 
 fluffy white tail to watch the wagon pass. Squirrels chat 
 tered ; there was a crackling of distant underbrush as if a 
 deer were making a cautious flight into the covert of cot- 
 tonwoods. 
 
 "It s all so purty," said Army, nestling close to Sam s 
 side and tucking her hand under his big arm as a child 
 might have done. " I like it I like it ! Oh, I m glad 
 I m alive !" 
 
 Sam smiled down at her, his face bright with sympathy. 
 
 (( It s good to be alive when we re happy," he said. 
 
 "I m happy happy!" chanted Anny. "I m allus 
 happy when I m with you !" 
 
 " I m happy too jes s happy s you be. The only 
 trouble seems to be t we can t allus keep it up." 
 
 " Can t keep up bein happy ?" 
 
 " YOU TQ happy most o the time, though. That s right. 
 I like to see ye happy, no matter bout the rest o us." 
 
 "I m allus happy," she repeated "allus happy when 
 I m with you !" 
 
 " Then ye d like me aroun all the time, hey ?" 
 
 " I would that !" she declared. 
 
 " Well, I been aroun a good deal lately, ain t I ? More 
 n I used to be ?" 
 
237 
 
 " More n ye used to be yes. But " 
 
 "But wot?" 
 
 " But not ^nough not nough V 
 
 "I m afeerd ye re greedy," said Sam. 
 
 "Greedy?" 
 
 " Yes ; greedy o me !" 
 
 " Is it wicked to be greedy ?" 
 
 "Wot made ye think o that ?" 
 
 " Pears like I ve heerd sis say how tis." 
 
 " Tain t wicked to be greedy bout nice things/ said 
 Sam, with his kindest smile. 
 
 " Like pie V cake V doughnuts ?" 
 
 " Oh, they ain t nice !" 
 
 " Then wot is nice ?" 
 
 "Why, /be! See?" 
 
 Anny faced him soberly she was still very slow at 
 grasping a joke but at last her face reflected his smile 
 with an eager jubilance. 
 
 " Oh ! Then tain t wicked to be greedy o you 9" 
 
 Sam s eyes sparkled his enjoyment of her quickness. 
 
 "Ye kin be jes s greedy o me s ye like !" he de 
 clared. 
 
 He thought she was going to attempt some retort, but 
 whatever mental effort her stammering concealed, it final 
 ly settled into a simple but appreciative " Oh I" 
 
 " N ye ll go to heaven, too," said Sam. 
 
 " Oh !" she repeated, in the same tone. Then her face 
 brightened still more. " I m agoin to be greedy right 
 straight along now/ she declared. 
 
 "Well," said Sam, contentedly. And he pressed his 
 huge arm against the hand that still nestled at his side. 
 
 Presently he said : 
 
 " Ye re lookin s bright s a dollar this mornin , little 
 un. Ain t ye feelin spryer n usu l ?" 
 
 " I m happy, happy, happy !" she answered. 
 
 "Ye ll have a nice day over to Halstead s. The ole 
 
238 
 
 lady s been wantin ye to visit er ever s long. I never 
 see er but wot she speaks to me bout it." 
 
 " That s nice, ain t it ?" 
 
 " LI ye be lonesome while I m out on the range with 
 the ole man ?" 
 
 " To ketch that steer ? No, I won t be lonesome." 
 
 "Ye know the Doc 11 be there." 
 
 Anny nodded reflectively. 
 
 "I like the Doc/ she said. "He s allus good to me 
 when he comes over to the ranch." 
 
 " Ye ain t afeerd o him ?" 
 
 " Afeerd ? Oh no !" 
 
 " Don t he skeer ye with his eyes ?" 
 
 Anny laughed. 
 
 "He allus looks at me like he keerd fer me/ she an 
 swered. 
 
 " N ye ll talk to im if he seems to feel like it ?" 
 
 " Oh yes. I ll talk to the Doc. I allus do." 
 
 The sun was well up when they reached Halstead s, and 
 the shadows lay black and tangled under the cottonwoods 
 all about the old ranch-house. It was a shady spot in an 
 opening in the foot-hills, and beyond it the mountains 
 rose, hung with vapors. There was a small stream close 
 at hand, and the sun made a troubled lustre on the clear 
 water ; mountains and trees were broken in the hurry 
 ing current as it slipped among the stones with a sound 
 which carried with it a sense of coolness and calm. 
 
 They were met at the gate by Mrs. Halstead a hard- 
 featured old woman with a big brown mole in her eyebrow 
 and loose corrugations of colorless flesh under her chin 
 which no effort of retrospective imagination could fill with 
 youthful plumpness. She had iron-gray hair, which was 
 combed straight behind the ears from an uncompromising 
 parting and fastened in a hard, glistening gray knob at 
 the back of her head, which looked as if it had been screwed 
 in. The mountains mould grim features into the faces of 
 
239 
 
 their human companions, but the harshness of Mrs. Hal- 
 stead s nose and chin was corrected by her eyes, which 
 were gentle and thoughtful and loving. 
 
 " Well, this Cere s a sight fer sore eyes !" was her greet 
 ing. " "Light light n come in." In the eagerness of 
 her hospitality it seemed impossible for her to get her 
 visitors quickly enough into the house. " Jes tie the 
 bronco to the gate-post, Sam I ll send Hank out to 
 look arter it. Come in come in ! Fve been longin fer 
 weeks to git the little un over ere fer a day." She kissed 
 Anny, removed her hat, smoothed her hair, and set her in 
 the wooden rocker by the window. "I declare, I been 
 feelin like a biled owl all mornin I tole Hank afore I 
 got up I knowed I was goin to put in a blue day, V hoped 
 some o the neighbors ud drop in. Well I" she stood off 
 and contemplated her visitors with folded arms " this 
 suits me half to death, /tell ye ! How s all the folks over 
 on the Rio Grande ?" 
 
 Sam opened his mouth to reply, but before he could 
 utter a word Anny spoke up brightly : 
 
 " Sis s well, V Leatherhead s well, V Pinky s well, V 
 everybody s well over on the Eio Grande !" 
 
 Mrs. Halstead opened her eyes wide and then laughed. 
 
 " The little un s wonderful peart this mornin , ain t 
 she ?" she asked. She took the girl s hand and patted it 
 softly. " Pears like I ve noticed lately how she s pickin 
 up. I says to Hank t other day, says I, f She s a-gittin 
 right along/ says I, she s a - gittin right along ! N 
 shore nough, now, ain t she ? I ll leave it to anybody, 
 ain t she ? Land ! she ll soon be ^erself altogether at this 
 rate !" 
 
 Anny looked up eagerly. 
 
 " I l)e better," she declared. " Ain t I, Sam ?" 
 
 " I m shore o it," was his answer. 
 
 "I Icnow I be," resumed Anny, with more confidence. 
 "I feel it ere," she touched her heart, " V ere," she laid 
 
240 
 
 her hand on her forehead. " Oh, I feel it all over ! N 
 wot if I was to git well ?" 
 
 Sam s face shone happily. He had been afraid that 
 the excitement of the visit would confuse her, or that the 
 journey would weary and stupefy her, and that she would 
 be unable to show off to advantage before the doctor ; but 
 instead of that it had stimulated her, and she would be 
 seen at her best. 
 
 " If the Doc could see er at this minute," he thought, 
 " I know he d say they was hopes fer er." And aloud he 
 asked : " Where s the Doc, anyhow ? I come over partly to 
 see im it s a errand. N arter that I mus try to hunt up 
 that steer. Doc feelin any better these days ?" 
 
 " No better -no. Keeps on in jest about the same 
 ole way. He s out in the hammick up bey end the cor 
 ral, where the sun s warm on the rocks. Ye know, I 
 reckon." 
 
 Sam nodded. 
 
 " I ll leave the little un with you," he said, and strode 
 away. 
 
 He found the doctor in the place indicated, spread out 
 in a sort of ghastly ease with the sunshine naming full in 
 his face and eyes. His half-closed lids were dark, as if 
 shaded in with charcoal ; his cheek-bones took a singular 
 high-light which made them doubly prominent. He had 
 a heavy gray shawl wrapped about his legs, and under him 
 was a woollen afghan of mingled cardinal and black, its 
 edges showing vividly over the hammock. The cotton- 
 woods about the spot, seared by autumn, made a faded 
 aureole beyond him, and there was a certain brightness in 
 the very shadows they flung along the gray soil. Above 
 him a foot-hill heaved its solid mass of rocky drift, broken 
 by black pines which sang dirges in the wind ; and still 
 higher up the precipitous sky lifted its breathless curve 
 of blue. Two or three white peaks were discernible be 
 tween sky and foot-hill. 
 
241 
 
 "Hello, there!" was Sam s greeting, two yards away. 
 "Well, to see the way ye be a-soakin in the sun I" 
 
 " Good God !" cried Dr. Sedgwick, flinging up his arms 
 as if he were falling. The shock of Sam s voice brought 
 a wild light into his eyes, which remained for a moment 
 in a steady glare, then flickered and died out. Then, re 
 covering from his start : "Oh, it s you I" He sank back, 
 panting. " Heavens ! did you spring straight up through 
 the ground ? Are there trap-doors in this infernal soil ? 
 Why can t you come up to a man like a Christian ? Oh, 
 these healthy cattle, who don t know whether they have 
 nerves and lungs ! You ve scared the life out of me !" 
 
 "I I fergot how sick ye was I swear I did," apolo 
 gized Sam. Then, with a rueful glance at the panting 
 invalid; " Ye re right, I be a brute. I orter V thort it 
 was my place." 
 
 f( Oh, that s easily said, and more easily believed. You 
 needn t be scared you haven t killed me yet. You can 
 come over some other day and finish up the job. I wish 
 you would and quickly, too ! Isn t it strange that a man 
 can t die, even when it s plain his time has come ?" The 
 momentary excitement died out of his face, the ghastli- 
 ness became less pronounced, and his skin resumed its 
 customary flabby lifelessness of hue. " To go on breath 
 ing and thinking after one is really dead to eat and 
 sleep and move about, and see things that really belong 
 to a past world it s a horrible life to live, a ghost s life, 
 I tell you ! To survive one s ambitions, one s friends, 
 one s contemporaries, one s very passions can you im 
 agine what it is like ? If I could only cough like other 
 consumptives, it would help to finish me off. No ; you 
 can t imagine what it is like. You are still alive !" 
 
 Sam said nothing. He stood with one arm akimbo 
 and the other behind him, in the awkward attitude of 
 pitying attention. 
 
 Suddenly the sick man broke into a short, bitter laugh. 
 
 16 
 
242 
 
 " You came over to hear that,, I suppose. "Well, you ve 
 heard it, and what do you think of me ? Sit down ; you 
 make me nervous standing there like an overgrown school 
 boy that s been spanked." Sam s grin was immediately 
 reflected on the doctor s pallid features. (i That rock 
 there at the foot of the cottonwood if you ll take that I 
 won t have to twist my neck when I talk. Are there any 
 sharp places on it ? No matter you won t feel them. 
 Sit down." 
 
 Sam did as he was bidden, still grinning. 
 
 The doctor punched his pillow with one skeleton fist, 
 and brought his thin face higher into the sunlight. His 
 skull hung in his yellow skin, half visible, as in a bag. 
 
 " I was hopin to find ye better," Sam ventured. "I m 
 sorry ye ain t. I hate to see a human critter suiferin ." 
 
 " I m sorry to force you to do what you hate. But it 11 
 do you good you great animals have things too much 
 your own way. Well, I like to look at you, nevertheless, 
 and think how I would feel and what I would do if I had 
 your muscles, your digestion, your nerves, your blood. 
 It s maddening, of course ; but so is everything. And 
 you are at least a change." 
 
 Sam glanced about him at the sky, the mountains, the 
 trees, the interplay of sunshine and shadow, and a sense of 
 sadness crept across his sympathy with the healthy joy of 
 material things. He did not try to express the feeling, but 
 perhaps there was a sense of wistfulness in his question. 
 
 "Don t the brandy brace ye up ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, brace me up, yes. It keys me up high above 
 concert-pitch, I tell you. But afterwards if there were 
 no afterwards, I d keep full of brandy from morning to 
 night. But what s the use ? It s as if" He made a 
 gesture descriptive of a vain, aimless flight from misery, 
 then sunk deeper into the pillow. " Well, what of it ? 
 There is plenty of good material in the world. Is there a 
 God ? He can afford to be lavish of it !" 
 
243 
 
 Sam smoothed his knee thoughtfully with one big brown 
 hand. 
 
 " Tears like ye ain t reely got so fur away from yer am 
 bition s wot ye talk," he remarked. 
 
 "Oh, are you getting subtle ?" asked the doctor. 
 
 "/should say," continued Sam, "how ye was jes try- 
 in to make yerself think ye don t keer fer nothing jes 
 cause it makes ye onhappy to keer fer things. N /should 
 say ye couldn t quite make it out." 
 
 " You are getting subtle !" put in the doctor. 
 
 " No fence, o course," said Sam, in apology. 
 
 The sick man s eyes lit up with a momentary smile. 
 
 " It s the last thing I d have thought of you" he re 
 marked. 
 
 "Well, let it go fer wotever it s wuth. The name o 
 it don t cut no ice. But if ye was to git a chance to show 
 off yer skill on a good subjeck, now a fust-rate subjeck 
 Vud do ye credit well, /bet yer ambition ud show it 
 self, n quick, too." 
 
 "You re becoming a mind-reader like myself," he said, 
 half bitterly. 
 
 "No ; but I ve brought the little un over fer ye to look 
 at. N if that don t int rest ye, nothin will. She s to be 
 yer patient fer to-day see ? I been tendin a long time 
 to have ye see er, but things allus come up to interfere. 
 Pears like she s a heap better we all think so ; V I want 
 to know fer shore. Ud ye mind talkin to er a spell ? I m 
 goin out on the range fer a steer." 
 
 "You seem rather interested in that girl," the doctor 
 suggested, after a moment. 
 
 " I d marry er to-morrer, if she d have me." 
 
 And if" 
 
 "And if she was in er right mind." 
 
 " Ah !" said the doctor, smiling more broadly after a 
 little pause. " Yes, bring her out. I ll examine her." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 SAM captured his steer, corralled it, and was back to 
 the ranch at one o clock. He found the doctor propped 
 up among heaps of chintz cushions in an easy-chair on the 
 veranda. 
 
 "Well?" he inquired, anxiously, on coming face to face 
 with the man of science. 
 
 The doctor looked worn and broken, but his face told 
 a story of discovery. There was an idea in his look, 
 his gestures, his attitude. Something had transformed 
 him. He looked like a disembodied spirit with eyes of 
 flame. 
 
 <f I ve examined her," he said, trying unsuccessfully to 
 keep his lips from quivering. 
 
 "Well ?" repeated Sam. 
 
 The doctor seemed to readjust himself inwardly. 
 
 " I ve had a long talk with her a long talk." 
 
 Again came Sam s anxiously patient query, "Well ?" 
 
 "She s better," the doctor said. 
 
 Sam fetched an exhalation like a puff from an escape- 
 pipe. 
 
 " I knowed it I" he cried. And then, with an eager lurch 
 in the doctor s direction, "She ll git well !" 
 
 The doctor s voice trembled as he took up the word in 
 his own way* 
 
 " Very much better. Better by far than I ever hoped 
 she would be. But " 
 
 Sam steadied himself against a veranda post, breathing 
 hard. 
 
 " They s a but in the case, then ?" he asked. 
 
245 
 
 The doctor settled into the chair on the small of his 
 back. 
 
 " A but 9 A very big but, I can tell you ! The biggest 
 kind of a but. In a word " 
 
 " She can t git well ?" cut in Sam, breathlessly. 
 
 "You ve said it she can t get well. She may improve 
 still further it s likely she will ; she may learn to per 
 ceive more accurately, to memorize tolerably well, to rea 
 son a very little ; she may become so nearly herself that a 
 stranger would see nothing peculiar about her. She may 
 do all this I hope and believe she will ; but she can t get 
 well ! I examined her carefully not by question only, 
 but by actual manipulation of the injured spot. It used 
 me up, and I ve been taking brandy ever since do you 
 smell my breath ? You could skate on it ! but what 
 matter ? The injury is of such a nature that she can 
 never fully recover from its effects." 
 
 Sam pushed himself away from the post, turning so 
 that the doctor could not see his face. 
 
 "Well, there s another hope gone a-glimmerin ," he 
 said, in a tone which failed to conceal his real depth of 
 feeling. 
 
 The doctor smoothed his cheek with a jerky hand, and 
 ended by pinching the withered skin on his jaw in an ex 
 cited way. 
 
 " I discovered something else," he said, in an altered 
 voice. 
 
 Sam turned quickly. 
 
 " Suthin else ?" 
 
 I believe I have discovered something else," amended 
 the doctor. 
 
 " Wot kin it be ? Anything in er favior ? Lord ! I 
 do b lieve it s suthin in er favior !" Sam s face had 
 lighted up. 
 
 " Yes, in her favor. But I can t tell you now you have 
 a right to hope yes, and I have a right to tell you that 
 
246 
 
 yon may. Only, I want time to think I must have time 
 to think. Wait wait ! Don t you see I m all upset, in 
 spite of the brandy ? Great God! What if I should be 
 the means of restoring that poor girl completely to her 
 reason ? "Well, who would say then that Sedgwick the 
 consumptive had lived for nothing studied medicine for 
 nothing ? Eestore her ? That would be a feat which you 
 with all your brute strength could never perform. Listen ! 
 But no ; I swore I d take two days to think it over, and I 
 will. I want to be calm, careful, judicious. I must take 
 time. Come over day after to-morrow and I ll give you 
 my conclusion. Not before no ! Do you want to kill 
 me by forcing me to speak before Fm ready ? How would 
 that .benefit her ? They ve called you twice to dinner. 
 Day after to-morrow, and till then say nothing to any 
 body. No, I sha n t eat anything. There s Mrs. Hal- 
 stead again go !" 
 
 Sam went in, but for the first time in his life he had no 
 appetite. He ate, not because he cared for what was set 
 before him he was really unable to distinguish one dish 
 from another but for fear his hosts and Anny would no 
 tice and make comment if he abstained. The chicken 
 stew, which good Mrs. Haldstead had so carefully pre 
 pared for the occasion, might have been corned beef for 
 all he knew. Even the hot waffles for dessert went down 
 without a titillation, and he was glad when the meal was 
 over and he was at liberty to wander out into the open 
 air. 
 
 He hunted for the doctor, but that mysterious indi 
 vidual was nowhere to be found. 
 
 " I won t go home thout seein im," he muttered, un 
 der his breath. "He s got to tell me wot struck im so 
 hard. I can t live till day arter to-morrer on a crumb 
 like that." 
 
 But the doctor had gone to bed ill and could see no 
 one. 
 
247 
 
 " Tell him to go home and behave himself," was the 
 harsh message old Mrs. Halstead brought back. 
 
 " Damn it !" muttered Sam, and turned away. 
 
 But swearing was of no use, and like a wise man Sam 
 abstained after that first outbreak. 
 
 " Day arter to-morrer it is then," he said to himself 
 as he went to tell Anny it was time to start for home. 
 
 He had not expected to leave so early, but he managed 
 to find an excuse ranch-life is a fertile source of prevar 
 ication ; and at last, to his infinite relief, he found him 
 self seated in the buckboard with Anny at his side and 
 the reins in his hands. Mr. and Mrs. Halstead were at 
 the gate shrieking good-byes interlarded with wild invita 
 tions to come again. 
 
 " Fll send one o the boys over fer the steer to-morrer," 
 were Sam s parting words. " Or if not, Til be over my 
 self the day arter." 
 
 " The corral b longs to im s long s he needs it," was 
 the old man s hospitable response. He s welcome 
 welcome s the flowers in May. W be shore n bring the 
 little un agin. N tell the missus we re longin fer a 
 sight o her smilin face. We re powerful stuck on the 
 little un, wife n me." 
 
 " I ll come," spoke up Anny, on her own account. 
 " I ve had sech a good time. N the chicken stew was 
 lovely !" 
 
 Sam backed the buckboard into the road, and a mo 
 ment later his horse s nose was turned homeward. 
 
 " Ye ve reely had a good time ?" asked Sam, looking 
 down at his companion. 
 
 The excitement of parting was dying out of Anny s face. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, listlessly. 
 
 " But it tired ye, hey ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Ye had a talk with the doctor ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
248 
 
 " A long un ?" 
 
 " Not too long." 
 
 " Wot d he say ?" 
 
 Anny considered. 
 
 " Oh, lots o things," she finally said. 
 
 " Fer instance ?" 
 
 She brushed her hair wearily back from her eyes. 
 
 " I can t think." 
 
 Sam was touched by the words and the look which ac 
 companied them it was so plain that she was tired out 
 but his anxiety was greater than his compassion. 
 
 " nothin ? Can t ye think o nothin ?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Try try," he urged. 
 
 She shut her eyes and presently clasped her fingers to 
 her temples. Then she lowered her right hand and 
 clasped it around his big arm. Presently she looked up 
 wistfully. 
 
 " There was suthin " she began, with a tentative, 
 helpless look. 
 
 te Yes, yes !" he cried, eagerly. 
 
 "I didn t know jes wot it meant " 
 
 "Yes, yes !" 
 
 f I couldn t think it out, but peared like I orter know " 
 
 Try try to member " 
 
 " So I said to myself, I ll member that V ast Sam. " 
 
 " But wot he said can t ye bring it back ?" 
 
 There was a long pause. 
 
 "It s gone, V I can t bring it back !" she finally sighed, 
 drooping her cheek against his shoulder. 
 
 Sam s face expressed his disappointment, and he did 
 not notice that she had turned a little and was looking up 
 at him. 
 
 " Ye won t scold me ?" she pleaded. " No no ! Don t 
 scold me ! I ll try to think !" 
 

 249 
 
 He put his arm around her reassuringly. 
 
 "It don t matter/ he said, gently. "Don t worry. / 
 don t mind." 
 
 ( N ye like me jes the same s ever ?" 
 
 " Jes the same." 
 
 There was another wistful silence. 
 
 " Ye d like me better, though, if I could think wot he 
 said ?" 
 
 "I d like orfly to know. But don t worry. It s all 
 right !" 
 
 She lowered her gaze and leaned her cheek against his 
 shoulder in the childish way with which he was familiar. 
 
 " Keep very still," she said. " Ever V ever so still. It 
 almos comes back. I want ye to like me. I ll try to 
 bring it back." 
 
 They rode on in silence. Sam noticed nothing of the 
 landscape through which they passed ; his thoughts were 
 intent on the doctor and his idea. What was it ? What 
 did it all mean ? Was there really something to hope 
 for ? Or was it only a hallucination one of a consump 
 tive s many distempered dreams ? The sun wandered 
 farther and farther down the sky ; the mists condensed 
 into white, woolly rolls above the woods ; the rocks and 
 trees seemed to engage in mute conference with their 
 shadows. Pines hung on the horizon like storm clouds ; 
 close at hand they looked human, tossing their arms in 
 impatience of their uninterpreted grief. Finally their 
 moaning grew into the silence till the mind failed to dis 
 tinguish between the two, and called it only silence. 
 
 At last Anny spoke without moving. Her voice was so 
 low that when she began Sam mistook it for a softer mur 
 mur from the pines. 
 
 " I kin tell ye now. The pines helped me to member 
 it. W I m so glad !" She heaved a long sigh. 
 
 Sam bent his head sidewise towards her so as not to lose 
 a word. 
 
250 
 
 " I m listen! n ," he said. 
 
 "He was lookin at me with all his eyes ye know 
 how ? till I had to shet mine,, like., to keep im out. It 
 was like suthin was borin into my head. It skeerd me. 
 Ye know wot I mean ?" 
 
 " I know I know V 
 
 " N all to wunst he says, like he was talkin to himself, 
 If I ever find it out by mind-readin , " says he, I ll have 
 to git it from er sister/ W then he stopped lookin at 
 me, V went to talkin bout the birds V squirrels. W 
 that s all only I m glad I membered." 
 
 Sam could make nothing of the speech, and his coun 
 tenance expressed as much. But Anny failed to see his 
 disappointment ; she was very tired, and would not have 
 understood had she noticed his perplexed look. 
 
 "Fm glad, too," he said, gently. He was not unmind 
 ful of the effort she had made to please him. 
 
 She nestled closer, like a contented child. 
 
 "Ye like me now ?" 
 
 "Ever so much." 
 
 His glance met hers, straight as a sunbeam. How pretty 
 she looked with the flush of weariness in her cheeks and 
 the light of affection in her eyes ! For a moment he 
 forgot what she was an afflicted creature whose recovery 
 was at best problematical and remembered only that he 
 loved her. He had been silent so long surely she would 
 understand ! But he was in no mood to weigh chances ; 
 the desire to tell her of his love overflowed and bore away 
 all other feelings like a sudden tide. 
 
 " Don t look away !" he cried, suddenly, as she was about 
 to turn her head. " Look up at me look up at me allus 
 like that !" 
 
 She turned her face obediently to his without lifting 
 her head from his shoulder. 
 
 " Like ye ? I love ye !" he said, in a hushed voice. 
 
 "Ye hurt me," she murmured. And he woke to the 
 
251 
 
 consciousness that he was crushing her against his breast 
 with all his strength. 
 
 " I love ye Fd die fer ye !" he whispered. 
 
 She looked at him, as he could easily see, without un 
 derstanding the difference between like and love. 
 
 " Fm glad/ she said, simply. "Hike ye, Hove ye, too !" 
 
 Her direct, innocent gaze gave him a pang. A sudden 
 shame overcame him. It was as if he had confessed a 
 man s passion for a child. 
 
 " I do love ye, little un," he repeated, in a different 
 tone. 
 
 And in this mood he bent and kissed her softly on the 
 forehead. 
 
 "Go to sleep," he said, as if she were his little sister, 
 helpless and tired. He adjusted his huge left arm about 
 her, and supported her so that the movement of the wag 
 on would disturb her less. " Ye re worn out altogether. 
 Go to sleep !" And there was a suspicious moisture in 
 his eyes as he turned to his horse. 
 
 And thus they rode on through the gulches while the 
 sun sank lower and lower to the cliffs, and the mists, 
 which had settled like a white sediment upon the black 
 solid of the pines, turned roseate, and the early sunset got 
 tangled in the trees and made a hazy, sprawling glory of 
 the shadows. And Sam thought: 
 
 "If she was to git well the Doc said she couldn t, but 
 he said they was hope, too she couldn t go to sleep 
 leanin agin me like this ! Why, it s like she was a little 
 baby V trusted me completely, knowin I d never let er 
 come to harm. How stiddy V reg lar she breathes, pore 
 little tired thing !" 
 
 On through the thickening shadows, while the spirit of 
 the wind passed in among the mists and scattered them 
 in red fragments along the rocks. Sam noticed nothing 
 of the rustling cottonwoods or the moaning pines. His 
 mind was busy with the future. 
 
252 
 
 " I ll be on hand day arter to-morrer to see wot sort o 
 magget that man s got in his head," he thought. " He 
 wouldn t V talked that way fer nothinV" 
 
 When they reached the home valley Sam awakened his 
 companion by drawing her away from him and placing 
 her erect in her seat. 
 
 " Wake up !" he cried, when he saw that her eyes were 
 open. We re home agin I" 
 
 Anny yawned. 
 
 "Fm glad ye like me," she said, taking up her thought 
 where she had left it off on going to sleep. 
 
 "Yes, but ye musVt let the missus hear ye talk bout 
 it," cautioned Sam. 
 
 "No," acquiesced Anny, now fully awake. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 Two days later Sam started immediately after breakfast 
 for Halstead s. He gave no intimation of the real object 
 of his journey to any one, merely saying to Phoebe Ellen 
 that he was going to drive home the steer which he had 
 corralled on his former visit. 
 
 He found the doctor in his room, stretched full length 
 upon the bed. 
 
 "I expected you, " was the invalid s greeting. "No, 
 I m no worse Fm merely trying to keep still. I don t 
 succeed very well no. Somehow, even when my mind is 
 quiet which is rare my body keeps on going. That is 
 horrible the strain one feels when his mind and body are 
 at odds. I m glad you came early. I have better control 
 of myself in the morning. Don t I seem rather more rest 
 ful than usual ? I ve been saving up for your visit you 
 remember how you surprised me the last time ? and I d 
 like to think my preparations are discoverable in some 
 sort of result. I ve been thinking you know I told you 
 I would and I feel sure of myself. I didn t when I saw 
 you last. I had got an idea they ve been so scarce since 
 I came to Colorado ! and it upset me horribly. Yes, I 
 can cure that girl I fully believe I can. I d like to try ; 
 the thought of it has been tingling in me ever since it got 
 into my mind it s a sort of poison in my blood. Think 
 of it if I could cure her ! I I ! You don t seem to 
 know what that means. To you I suppose it would mean 
 the same as if another man cured her, but to me ! Why 
 do I set so much store by it ? I m sure I don t know. 
 Call it a freak a sick man s whim. But I want to do it. 
 
254 
 
 I ve never had a chance really to do anything in my pro 
 fession I lost my health just as I had finished my course 
 in the hospital ; but I know I had ability others thought 
 so as well as myself. I have ability still if my health 
 would let me exert it. Cure her ? I tell you I can. Or 
 if not" 
 
 " "Well, wot then ?" asked Sam, as his companion hesi 
 tated. " If ye didn t cure er " 
 
 "She might die." 
 
 Sam felt himself stiffening, then as suddenly relaxing. 
 
 " If I didn t cure her, I might kill her," stated the doc 
 tor, explicitly. 
 
 Sam s eyes asked for another statement more definite. 
 
 "I believe, though, there would be no intermediate 
 ground," said the doctor, in answer to that look. " It would 
 be either one thing or the other. I don t mean that it 
 would be impossible for her to go on as she is ; she might 
 do it with another physician. But not with me. I know 
 it. You see I speak plainly." 
 
 " Oh !" was Sam s only comment. 
 
 The doctor eyed him curiously. 
 
 "You don t seem to take to the idea," he remarked, 
 cracking his skeleton fingers. 
 
 Sam made no answer. His eyes wandered thought 
 fully out to the foot-hills and the vacant sky. Finally he 
 bent his glance once more upon the doctor and inquired : 
 
 "Wot sort o med cine ud ye have to give er, anyhow, 
 if ye was to try this scheme ? Pizen ?" 
 
 "Medicine ? I should give her 110 medicine at all." 
 
 Sam s glance became more alert. 
 
 " Wot, then ?" 
 
 "She would have to undergo an operation." 
 
 " A operation ?" The word had a loose signification 
 in Sam s vocabulary, and he could not have defined it to 
 save his life. In general he connected it with crude am 
 putations of arms, legs, or frozen ears. 
 
255 
 
 The doctor understood his perplexity, and though his 
 eyes burned more darkly than usual, he smiled. 
 
 ce No, I shaVt cut her head off/ he said. " They cut 
 off hands and feet to perform cures, but never heads. I ll 
 vouch for the girl s head." 
 
 Sam did not notice the sarcasm. 
 
 " But er brains, doctor ?" he asked. " Wot about er 
 brains ?" 
 
 "And I sha n t scrape her brains out," grinned the 
 strange man. "An operation isn t always so radical as 
 that." 
 
 "Then wo* ud ye do?" 
 
 "Let me tell you. You see " 
 
 "Tell me in the littlest words ye kin think of," stip 
 ulated Sam. 
 
 " I ll do it so that a child could understand. The sim 
 ple fact is that the girl s skull was fractured in the acci 
 dent on the landslide " 
 
 "I allus made shore o that," put in Sam. 
 
 "And a piece of bone is pressing upon the brain. You 
 understand ?" 
 
 Sam nodded. 
 
 " Now, have you ever seen a set of surgical instru 
 ments ?" 
 
 " Knives V saws V sech ?" 
 
 "Yes and other things." 
 
 "I ve seen em," said Sam. 
 
 " Well, there are special instruments for such cases as 
 tlvs girl s. A skilful surgeon can cut through the scalp, 
 lay open the flesh, reach down into the fracture, lift the 
 displaced bone carefully up " 
 
 Sam s eyes were wide with interest. 
 
 "Yes yes ! N they kin keep it there ?" 
 
 "Yes, they can keep it there. I ve seen it done as 
 sisted in the operation " 
 
 " But never reely done it ?" 
 
256 
 
 " No. But I know just how." 
 
 " N the patient gits well ?" 
 
 "Exactly. The patient gets well." 
 
 Sam pondered a moment. 
 
 " But if the surgeon lacked skill " 
 
 The doctor shut him off peremptorily. 
 
 "Then he oughtn t to undertake the operation." 
 
 His perfect frankness pleased Sam, and he went on : 
 
 "But if he was mistook in hisself ?" 
 
 "The friends ought to make sure of that, and then 
 decline to let him operate." 
 
 "Fm a friend o this patient," remarked Sam. 
 
 "So am I." 
 
 "I want the thing done that s best fer er." 
 
 "So do I." 
 
 Sam shook his head and sighed. 
 
 "Ye don t feel fer er like wot I do," he declared. 
 " Cut into er scalp V go to proddin aroun amongst er 
 skull ? Ye never could do it if ye keerd fer er like / 
 do." 
 
 "I didn t mean that. You are doubtless the best friend 
 she has in the world." 
 
 "W the missus she s er friend too/ said Sam. The 
 words came half tentatively, half defiantly. 
 
 "Um-m," said the doctor. 
 
 " She wouldn t never cornsent to it." 
 
 "Why hot?" 
 
 "Sev ral reasons. Fust V foremost, she hates the 
 sight o you. She wouldn t let ye tech the gal." 
 
 " Oh, I know all that. I know more about the cause 
 of her hatred, too, than you suppose. But that s alto 
 gether beside the question. Would she be glad to have 
 her sister recover ?" 
 Sam flushed. 
 
 "I ain t ast er," he answered. 
 "Ask her and see." 
 
257 
 
 Ye re shore she wouldn t ?" 
 
 "Aren t you?" 
 
 Sam gave an evasive shrug. 
 
 " She would never consent/ the doctor went on, "but 
 not because she hates me. / know her reasons : so do 
 you." 
 
 "We might s well onderstan each other/ said Sam. 
 "Let s see if yer idees tally with mine." 
 
 " She would never consent, because she loves you, Sam 
 Tinker that s why. Do you suppose I am blind ? You 
 forget that I am blessed or cursed with a double 
 vision " 
 
 Ye re the devil !" said Sam. 
 
 " Thanks ! We ll discuss that later. I realize that the 
 missus won t consent and I know other reasons than 
 either of us has mentioned ; but they will keep. Some 
 day, if you need them, you shall have them. Now, the 
 question is, should the girl s fate be decided by one whose 
 judgment is as biassed as that of your mistress ? If so, 
 the girl will have to stay as she is, for all I can see. It 
 doesn t seem fair, though." 
 
 "No, it don t," admitted Sam. 
 
 1 Put yourself in the girl s place a moment, can you ?" 
 
 "It pends on wot ye want me to do." 
 
 "Wouldn t you rather die in an operation than live on 
 with her prospects before you ?" 
 
 " She ain t so bad," evaded Sam. " She s gittin bet 
 ter." 
 
 "But the question wouldn t you, now? Answer 
 truly." 
 
 Sam faced the situation as best he could. 
 
 " Oh, I? Yes, I would. But her to her " 
 
 "Hasn t she the same rights as you ? Does she forfeit 
 her rights because she isn t able to judge for herself ? 
 And because you have to decide for her, are you not, in 
 fact, a coward to assume that she is different ?" 
 
 17 
 
258 
 
 The doctor had braced himself on one elbow, and was 
 facing the cowboy with burning eyes. Sam afterwards 
 remembered those eyes in dreams. 
 
 " The missus is the one to decide/ he still evaded. 
 
 "She is not the one to decide. She is prejudiced. 
 You yourself admitted the fact." 
 
 "We couldn t do it if she didn t cornsent, though/ ob 
 jected Sam. 
 
 The doctor nodded slowly. 
 
 " You have the power to persuade her/ he said. 
 
 "Ye talk like ye made shore I was in fer the bizness." 
 
 "lam." 
 
 "But if I tell ye I ain t?" 
 
 (( You will be when you think it over." 
 
 <e W if I was to say I don t b lieve ye re onto the 
 job ?" 
 
 "Not equal to it, you mean ?" 
 
 "Jesso." 
 
 The doctor bit his thin lip and settled back. 
 
 " Then the affair would have to end just as it is," he 
 said, in a hollow voice. 
 
 "The missus 11 tell ye that when ye come to ast er," 
 said Sam. 
 
 " But I m not going to ask her. You are to do that. 
 You will do it if I give you time." 
 
 " N if ye was to be nervous V jab yer tools a leetle 
 too fur into the little un s head " 
 
 The doctor finished the sentence calmly. 
 
 "She would die." 
 
 He twisted himself into a position from which he could 
 look more directly into Sarn s face. 
 
 "On the other hand, if the case were managed right 
 she would get well. Have you thought what that really 
 means ?" 
 
 "I ain t thort o nothin else, lately. It might mean 
 sev ral things." 
 
259 
 
 " For instance?" 
 
 " That she wouldn t have nothin to do with me," was 
 the gloomy answer. 
 
 " Nonsense ! She d marry you the next day after she 
 got her senses. Any girl would." 
 
 " Oh, you want the job that s plain nough," struck in 
 Sam, who was utterly impervious to compliment. 
 
 " Granted. But not for the money there is in it. I ll 
 do it for nothing when you get the missus persuaded. I 
 want the job, yes. Would you like to be asked in the 
 next world what you had done in this, and be obliged to 
 answer only, e I had consumption ? " 
 
 " Ain t that nough ? Wouldn t the angels think it was 
 nough ?" 
 
 " Oh, enough there s no denying that ; but not of the 
 right kind. And leaving the next world out of the ques 
 tion fact is, I never took much stock in it myself I d 
 like to feel on my own account that I d done something 
 to justify the pains my people took with my education. 
 This is my last chance. That s why I m anxious. Think 
 it over think it over. There s as much good in the af 
 fair for you as for me. There s 110 hurry. I sha n t die 
 for a month or six weeks yet. And when you ve made up 
 your mind " 
 
 " It s the missus s mind that has to be made up." 
 
 "You can bring her around. And if you can t " 
 
 " Wot then ?" 
 
 " We ll do it without her consent, if you ll stand by 
 me." 
 
 "Oh ! I m to bear the hull brunt o the bizness, am I ? 
 W if she s to die, I m to be sponsible ?" 
 
 The doctor smiled grimly. 
 
 " I shall be out of that part of it," he declared. 
 
 " You out o it when ye done it ? Ye ll be in it,/ tell 
 ye strickly in it !" 
 
 The strange man shook his head. 
 
260 
 
 "I should soon follow her," he said, without emo 
 tion. 
 
 Sam snorted. 
 
 " Ye ortn t to hurry on her count. They ain t no rea 
 son to think she d be puttickler glad to see ye, under the 
 circumstances. "Well, we won t talk bout it no more. 
 We ll let the little un stay jes like she is that s wot you 
 n me 11 do. / don t want no sech weight on me. The 
 little gal t I love so ! Let er stay like she is !" 
 
 The doctor stirred restlessly. 
 
 "And you won t speak to the missus ?" 
 
 Sam shook his head. 
 
 The doctor gave him a stare which went through and 
 through him. Then he smiled. 
 
 S( You ll change your mind by to-morrow," he said, 
 quietly. "It won t let you sleep till you ve settled it. 
 Think it over, I tell you. You ll never be sorry !" 
 
 Sam left him with that, and as he drove the steer home 
 through the devious gulches his thoughts, in spite of all 
 he could do, dwelt on the doctor s plan, and followed it 
 out to its ultimate possibilities. He could not get away 
 from it ; it followed him like a distempered dream. He 
 was like one who adds a column of figures over and over 
 that won t come right. Up and down he went with a 
 mental forefinger, recalculating with painful persistence, 
 going back to correct mistakes, looking ahead for possi 
 ble difficulties, perplexed, shaken, dissatisfied. The steer 
 could have escaped him a dozen times in the underbrush 
 or among the rocks had it not been a mean-spirited, 
 docile creature that had grown up in the neighborhood 
 of the home ranch. As it was, Sam kept at the ani 
 mal s tail without difficulty, and arrived home with no 
 greater misfortune than the increased perplexity of his 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Ye got it ?" asked Phoebe Ellen, meeting him on the 
 porch. 
 
261 
 
 He came to himself with a start. 
 
 " Oh, ye was talkin o the. steer ?" he inquired. "Oh 
 yes, I got the steer. " 
 
 "Wot else should I be talkin of?" she demanded, 
 sharply. 
 
 " Nothing" said Sam. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 FOE three or four days after his interview with the 
 doctor Sam moved about the ranch in a condition of 
 complete mental collapse. The man of medicine had 
 spoken truth when he said that the cowboy would be un 
 able to sleep until he had settled the matter of the opera 
 tion for good and all. He didn t sleep ; neither did he 
 settle the matter. He performed his duties like a man in 
 a dream, but with a face so careworn and perplexed that 
 Phoebe Ellen began to be worried about his health. 
 
 "Wot s the matter?" she asked him a dozen times. 
 And 
 
 "Nothing" was his invariable answer, delivered so 
 shortly as to sound like a monosyllable. 
 
 " Suthin 9 s up/ Phoebe Ellen concluded. But just 
 what was a matter which her imagination strained at 
 vainly. 
 
 Sam lost his appetite ; he grew thin - } he became irrita 
 ble. Often he rose at night, and, wrapping his big fur 
 overcoat about him, wandered down to the river and sat 
 by the hour gazing into the water, where he could see his 
 face staring up at him with the same lack-lustre vacancy 
 that filled the moon in the river as it stared back at the 
 moon in the sky. Sometimes he grew nervous at the 
 idiotic vision and flung stones into the quiet water along 
 the margin, rejoicing to see his features crack into faintly 
 luminous fragments, and wishing that by some such sim 
 ple process he could break the mental incapacity which 
 the image shadowed forth. At times he almost believed 
 in the doctor s ability to carry the operation through ; 
 
263 
 
 but always a doubt immediately afterwards seized him 
 and shook all hope out of him. Often he was on the 
 point of telling the missus and thrusting the responsibility 
 of a decision upon her, and as of ten his conscience silenced 
 him by the assurance of her inability to decide. He knew 
 beforehand just what her decision would be. And she 
 had no right to assume control of the girl s fate without 
 other recommendation than her own prejudices. 
 
 " The Doc was right when he said Fd got to settle the 
 hull matter myself," groaned Sam. 
 
 Then he would remember certain of Sedgwick s words. 
 
 " He said we could git long thout the missus s corn- 
 sent if Fd stan by im. But how ? How kin / cornsent ?" 
 And then, as an afterthought, "How kin I refuse?" 
 
 Sometimes his thoughts ran in figures of speech. 
 
 " Fm like Abe Fadden that time when a rattler fastened 
 on im V stuck, V he didn t dare to take holt o the thing 
 V tear it loose. Lord i wot a dirty world, when a man 
 has no mind o his own !" 
 
 And the burden of it all was : 
 
 " I mus make up my mind one way or Another I ve got 
 to decide." But he never did. 
 
 "This can t go on forever," he told himself, grimly. 
 " They ll have me in the sylum to Pueblo in Another 
 week." 
 
 But one day an inspiration occurred to him which 
 promised at least a partial relief from the dizzying tor 
 ment of conflicting thoughts. 
 
 " Why not ast the little un erself ? She knows jes 
 how she is ; she can t learn to read, but she kin onder- 
 stan a heap o common-sense ; we ve talked over how she 
 got hurt on the landslide a dozen times. She might not 
 take a sensible view great God ! wot is a sensible view ? 
 but then agin she might. She s got a heap more jedg- 
 ment V er sister gives er credit fer. Anyway, she may 
 say suthin t 11 help me out." 
 
264 
 
 That very afternoon he found her alone by Dan s grave 
 on the mountain - side. She made a desolate picture 
 among the dry grass and weeds, the black pines above her, 
 and a few autumnal clouds wandering helplessly about in 
 the sky. She had flung herself forward against the low 
 pile of stones, her arms stretched out and her hands 
 clasped. Her face was hidden ; her attitude was one of 
 deep dejection, perhaps of tears. 
 
 He paused in doubt, wondering if it were possible to 
 retreat without being discovered. If he turned, he would 
 be sure to arouse her. In his perplexity he stood quite 
 still, and his attention being concentrated upon the pros 
 trate figure, he could see that she was weeping. There 
 was an irregular, convulsive heaving of the shoulders 
 which told him everything, although he heard nothing. 
 How still the world was! And yet there was a muffled 
 sound from the river, and the pines seemed trying to 
 voice a soul s extreme desolation. 
 
 "Til go back/ he decided, and turned cautiously. 
 1 Pore little thing pore little thing !" 
 
 But the dry twig of a fallen pine brushed his shoulder 
 and snapped with a loud noise. Anny lifted her head 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Sam I" she cried, when she saw who it was. 
 
 He turned, but made no movement in her direction. 
 The silence seemed to deepen with a slow crescendo from 
 the pines and an explicit sibilance from the river. 
 
 " I was goin ," he said, at last. " I didn t aim to break 
 in on ye." 
 
 " I m glad I heerd ye," said Anny, straightening herself 
 a little away from the heap of stones. 
 
 He came forward and sat down at her side. 
 
 " Ye was cryin ," he said, taking her hand in his. 
 
 She was no more ashamed of her tears than a child 
 would have been, and her eyes were still overflowing as 
 she looked at him. 
 

 265 
 
 "Yes," she admitted. 
 
 " Wot about ?" 
 
 "1 felt like it." Her voice trembled a little, but he 
 heard it above the pines and the distinct river. "I felt 
 like it ud do me good. N so I flung myself down. ^N 
 the tears come, n I didn t try to stop em. Fm glad I 
 done it, too. I feel lots better. Ye don t like to have 
 me cry ?" 
 
 " No. I don t see how it kin be good fer ye. Tain t 
 good fer nobody to feel bad. I like to see ye chipper V 
 happy." 
 
 " This time it done me good/ she insisted, gently, but 
 with deference to his opinion. 
 
 " Anything happened to make ye feel bad ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Missus ain t done nothin ?" 
 
 " Oh no." 
 
 " Then wot started ye up?" 
 
 She was silent, evidently collecting her thoughts. 
 
 " I come out a-walkiir I wanted to git some o the 
 purty red leaves up there among the rocks. N I was 
 passin Dan s grave kind o slow like, V all to wunst I felt 
 like I wanted to stop a bit, so I sot down. N I got 
 to thinkiii bout im bout Dan, I mean, n wot ye ve 
 tole me bout im dif reiit times, n how good he was, n 
 how ye was frien s with im, V all the rest. Then I got 
 to thinkin bout myself, V how I couldn t member 
 nothin bout im, not even his looks, sence I got hurt. 
 N then it come over me I d know how but peared 
 like I seen all to wunst how dretful twas how orfle ! I 
 wanted to member im I wanted to think o im like I 
 must a done afore the lan slide , but I couldn t think o a 
 thing but wot I d been tole by you V sis, V that seemed 
 so kinder faint like. N it come over me t likely I 
 wouldn t never be no better, but ud allus be queer, not 
 like other folks ; people kind to me, but pityin me, too ; 
 
266 
 
 n fer a minute I wished I was dead. It ud be so easy to 
 lay still, way down under the ground along o Dan 
 mebbe I d. know im there jes like I used to ! So I laid 
 my face down on the stones V cried. N Fin better 
 now." She looked at him, smiling tremulously through 
 her tears. " I don t cry much. Most o" the time I laff at 
 the rabbits n squirrels n grasshoppers. But this time it 
 done me sech good ! Fm most williii to be queer the 
 rest o my life now if I kin have you allus round \" 
 
 " I ll allus be round/ said Sam, almost solemnly. 
 
 " I reckon I couldn t live nohow if ye was to leave me. 
 Anyways, I don t see how. Sis is good to me so is the 
 others. But" 
 
 " I won t leave ye," promised Sam. " But wot was ye 
 goin to say ? Ye ain t quite corntent, even with me ?" 
 
 She sighed heavily. 
 
 " How kin I be, when I think I used to be like other 
 folks V when I think -o wot I be now ? I ve lost so 
 much so much t I don t know bout, too." The pathos 
 of the words brought the tears to Sam s eyes. " It s all 
 been comin over me stronger n stronger o late. I m 
 gittin better, I know I be ; but the better I git the more 
 I long to be wot I was the more plain I see wot I orfcer 
 be this minute wot I might be if it hadn t been fer that 
 dretful day. I try not to think o it I try to think o 
 the squirrels V the cattle n horses n trees, n how good 
 you be to me ; but.it comes back to me, spite o everything. 
 I say to myself, Sam loves ye, Sam keers fer ye, ye little 
 fool. Ain t that nough ? I say, If harm comes, Sam s 
 near to look arter ye. But all the same I keep hankerin 
 arter suthin I ain t got ; ye know wot I mean ?" 
 
 " I know I know." 
 
 " I feel kind o lost like. Sometimes I don t know 
 where I be or wot I m lookiii at. I want suthin I ain t 
 got. I can t somehow say it " 
 
 " I onderstan . I ve thort o it often myself." 
 

 267 
 
 " I orter be corntent with wot I ve got, I know " 
 
 "No, no, little un. It s right V natural t it should 
 trouble ye." 
 
 "W ye ain t mad at me ?" 
 
 The question was a common one with her, and he loved 
 it as an evidence of her childish affection. 
 
 "No!" he answered. Then with unpremeditated ve 
 hemence, "I d give my own soul to bring back your 
 health to ye I would !" The earnestness of his emotion 
 left his mouth tremulous, and he controlled himself with 
 difficulty, but he presently went on. " N you wot must 
 it be to you ?" 
 
 She crept closer to him, taking his hand in hers and 
 stroking it gently. 
 
 " Ye ll never be corntent to live like this," he said. 
 
 "No." She laid her hand upon his and sat quite mo 
 tionless. " How kin I be, sence Fve learned to think ? I 
 have learned to think, Sam not allus right, mebbe, but 
 better n wot I used to ever so much better. I member 
 how it was. I d start to say suthin V I couldn t see my 
 way clear, V I d either stop, or end by sayin suthin else. 
 But now a idee stays with me I start to talk, n it s 
 like a light was kerried in front o me I go straight 
 ahead." 
 
 " Secli things alrnos make me b lieve in God," thought 
 Sam. "If I d prayed fer em, I would b lieve in Him." 
 But he said nothing. 
 
 Anny went on, stroking his hand again. 
 
 " N yit, why shouldn t I be corntent ? Wot do I lack ? 
 I ve got everything, when ye come right down to it, s long 
 s I ve got you. I m shamed o myself I feel guilty. 
 But tell me one thing, Sam. Tell me honest n true." 
 Her face was so serious that he felt his own features draw 
 ing into sober lines from sympathy. 
 
 "Wot is it ?" he asked, gently. 
 
 The question came with childish directness. 
 
268 
 
 " Wouldn t ye keer more for me tell me the truth ! 
 if I was like wot I used to be ?" 
 
 Sam recoiled as if he had received a blow. But she 
 did not wait for an answer. 
 
 " I want ye to like me all ye kin I need it, it s the life 
 o me. IS if that ud make ye think more o me, how kin 
 I help wishin V longing for it ? Oh, I do wish V long 
 for it ! If only the landslide had been a minute earlier or 
 later ! Thenthen" 
 
 Sam had recovered by this time, and spoke soothingly. 
 
 " I shall allus love ye, no matter how ye be. Listen ! I 
 come out to say suthin to ye suthin t Fve had on my 
 mind fer days. Ye re well nough to onderstan it yer 
 talk to-day proves ye re well nough. It s a hard question 
 the very question ye ve been talkin bout. I m goin to 
 tell ye the hull thing, n leave ye to jedge for yerself." 
 
 She faced him with grave inquiry. 
 
 " I ll try to onderstan ," she said, simply. 
 
 " Ye member yer visit to the Halsteads a few days 
 ago ?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 W the Doc?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Ye member the long talk ye had with im out there 
 among the rocks ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " N how he took holt o yer head n samined it ?" 
 
 "He allus does that." 
 
 " But didn t it take im longer this time ?" 
 
 She considered gravely. 
 
 " I reckon it did," she finally answered. 
 
 "Well, they was a objeck in all that." 
 
 "Aobjeck?" 
 
 " I mean, he knowed wot he was bout. He was tryin 
 to find out suthin ." 
 
 " Bout my head?" 
 

 He rushed on as if afraid his courage would fail him. 
 
 "I knowed ye was better I d been a-knowin it fer 
 ever so long n 1 wanted im to see ye n tell me wot 
 he thort o ye. I wanted to know if they was a chance o 
 yer gittin well." 
 
 He knew that her chin fell after a fashion she had 
 when surprised or frightened, but he kept his eyes turned 
 away. 
 
 "He was tryin ye all the time ye was there to see if 
 they was hopes." 
 
 He heard a little gasp from her, but still he did not 
 turn. 
 
 " N arter I come back from the range I had a long talk 
 with im on the porch. Ye wasn t there, n didn t know 
 nothin bout it. Ye was with Mis Hal stead in the 
 kitchen. " 
 
 He looked at her now,Vith a half-expectation of seeing 
 her face alter and grow into the expression which he re 
 membered as belonging to her before the accident. But 
 her eyes were only widened with a painful interest, and 
 her parted lips were tremulous with an eagerness which he 
 had often seen there in her present state. 
 
 "He said they waVt no hopes o yer gittin" back yer 
 mem ry, even if ye went on improvin . That is " 
 
 She caught breathlessly at the conditional phrase. 
 
 " Then they is hope ?" she whispered. 
 
 "No V yes." 
 
 The relaxed mouth closed, but the nostrils dilated at 
 the same moment with the passage of her hurried breath. 
 
 " Oh I" she gasped, faintly. " Wot made ye tell me ?" 
 
 " I felt bad, too ye kin make shore I did. Fd laid out 
 not to be disapp inted, no matter wot was said, but I found 
 I was mistook. I was disapp inted. He said he didn t see 
 no reason why ye shouldn t go on improvin , but ye d 
 never git well." 
 
 Oh !" was her faint exhalation once more. 
 
270 
 
 " But he tole me nother thing." 
 
 She did not change her attitude, but her eyes looked 
 into his with a keener light. 
 
 " He said ye wouldn t git well if ye was left to yer- 
 sclf." 
 
 " He meant" 
 
 " He said they was hope " 
 
 She flung herself forward with a wild look. 
 
 Hope ?" she cried out. 
 
 He laid his hand reassuringly upon her shoulder. 
 
 "Hope if we could make up our minds to try the 
 course o treatment he wants us to." 
 
 She sank back against the stones of the grave, but with 
 out removing her eyes from his. 
 
 "I ll do anything !" he heard her breathe. 
 
 "He spoke o a operation " 
 
 "Wot s that?" 
 
 She sat erect and looked alert again. 
 
 " It means he d have to cut into yer head V pry a bone 
 up n fix it so it ud stay there." 
 
 " That s horrid !"she murmured, after a moment. 
 
 He did not answer, and she looked at him impatiently. 
 
 " Well ?" she asked. 
 
 " The chances is " 
 
 "TIM git well?" 
 
 "He says so." 
 
 "But I might" 
 
 " The operation might kill ye. He was fair in statin 
 the case. It s dangerous, V he said so." 
 
 Anny was silent. 
 
 I been tryin. to think wot to do," Sam went on. 
 " Fve laid awake nights weighin it. But I can t make 
 up my mind. It s so mixed. If it was only myself " 
 
 " If it was yerself ? Wot then ?" 
 
 " I d take my chances with the operation." 
 
 " But bein it s me " 
 
271 
 
 " The chances seem too slim." 
 
 "But they ain t no slimmer n wot they d be for you." 
 
 " I think more o you n wot I do o myself." 
 
 " Oh !" was her only answer. 
 
 He drew closer to her, taking her hand. 
 
 "Shall I explain it over ag in ?" he asked. "Be ye 
 shore ye onderstan ? Shall I " 
 
 "I onderstan ," she answered, dully. 
 
 "W wot d ye say?" he urged. "Ye see wot the 
 chances is ?" 
 
 "I ain t had time to think/ she murmured. 
 
 "The odds is in yer favior ; he said that, V he put 
 the hull thing straight n fair. I couldn t see t he was 
 tryin to hide anything. Ye ve got a good constitution. 
 He said ye could stan it thout doubt s fur s that goes. 
 N if the operation was to go right if he wasn t to dig 
 too deep " 
 
 Anny s eyes were full of unutterable pathos. 
 
 "I don t want to die," she said, in a low voice. 
 
 Sam s heart gave a great leap. 
 
 "Die ? ISTo no !" he cried out. 
 
 She seemed to forget what her meditations had been a 
 moment before. 
 
 "I m afeerd to die. Ud they put me here by Dan ? 
 W pile rocks over me ? Oh, it ud be cold V dretful !" 
 
 " Don t talk so !" Sam pleaded. " Don t think o it no 
 more ! Let it go !" 
 
 "Ye said ye d do it if it was you, though." 
 
 "I didn t go to urge ye, little un I didn t, reely. 
 Don t think o it no more !" 
 
 " I know ye d ruther have me alive I know ! Ye want 
 we should keep in this good world together. That s wot 
 I want, too. But oh ! Sam, it ud be a better world if I 
 was well, wouldn t it ? Think o it ! Ye d love me twicet 
 s well ye d keer twicet s much bout bein with me n 
 talkin to me !" 
 
272 
 
 "I doubt it," said Sam. 
 
 " If I was to git well V be like other folks why, we d 
 still be in this good world together, only ever n ever so 
 much happier." 
 
 " It might change ye," he said, sadly. 
 
 "Change me? How?" 
 
 " Ye might not keer fer me then." 
 
 " Fd keer fer ye if I was dead !" she cried. 
 
 He carried her hand reverently to his lips. 
 
 "Don t try to make up yer mind all in a minute," he 
 said. " They s time nough. The Doc ain t in no hurry. 
 We kin talk it over to-morrer, or nex day, or nex . They s 
 plenty o time. Only keep it in mind, V when ye want to 
 talk bout it, we kin manage to git together." 
 
 She looked quieter after this, and said : 
 
 "I ll think it over. I kin see why ye can t make up 
 yer mind. I mus do it myself. N I will." 
 
 "But they s one thing. The missus mustn t know. 
 Wotever happens, we ain t ready fer er to know jes yit. 
 Ye ll member ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I ll go down to the barn V see if Leatherhead s work- 
 in on that saddle I give im to mend. Ud ye ruther 
 stay ere ?" 
 
 "Yes. I want to think." 
 
 Sam smoothed her hair back from her forehead, 
 glanced towards the house to see if any one was looking, 
 then kissed her and strode away. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 SAM wandered down to the barn. 
 
 " How sensible she was bout it !" he thought. " She s 
 got s good jedgment, when it comes to a pinch, s half 
 the folks t never had their skulls cracked V their brains 
 squeezed together. LI she make up er mind to let the 
 Doc go ahead ? I hope not ! I ll ast er to marry me jes 
 s she is she s got sense nough to decide n we ll let 
 the past go. I wish t I hadn t said a word to er bout 
 the bizness. But I m afeerd it s too late noAv." 
 
 He strayed restlessly about the barn, touching this 
 thing and that with hands that felt nothing but the 
 desire to be on the move. He stroked his favorite mare 
 Judy in an absent way, which that exacting lady resented 
 by impatient tossings of her head ; he acquiesced almost 
 eagerly in the horrible job Leatherhead had perpetrated 
 upon the saddle, and finally flung himself down under the 
 thatched roof upon the hay. It was warm and fragrant 
 up there. The day was drawing to a close, and the loft 
 was full of reflections of the red evening. Through a 
 chink in the wall he could look out at the darkening 
 foot-hills, above which the clouds of sunset canopied the 
 world. 
 
 At supper no Anny was to be seen. 
 
 " She wa n t a-feelin good," was Phoebe Ellen s answer 
 to his question. " So she went to er room, n I tuck er 
 some vittles afore I rung the bell fer ourselves. She 
 didn t act like she was sick only tired like." 
 
 But Sam looked anxious. 
 
 " No fever nor nothin ?" he asked. 
 
 18 
 
274 
 
 "Nothin 7 t I could see." 
 
 " Did she eat the grub ?" 
 
 "Not jes then. But she will, I make no doubt." 
 
 I reckon ye d tell me if she was sick ?" 
 
 There was a pause, during which Sam had time to 
 wonder how his question would be understood. 
 
 "Oh yes/ was the answer, delivered with perfect ci 
 vility. 
 
 And with that he was obliged to be content. 
 
 The next morning, as he was crossing the open space 
 between the barn and the corral, Anny darted out from 
 the shadow of a pine and was upon him before he was 
 fully aware. She had evidently been waiting for him. 
 
 "Sam ! Sam !" she cried, in a shrill voice, seizing his 
 arm and shaking it. 
 
 He looked at her, and his heart sank. 
 
 " Ye re sick," he said. 
 
 She did not notice, but shook his arm more violently. 
 
 " Think fer me ! Think fer me !" she cried out, like 
 one in a rage. 
 
 He drew back, horrified. 
 
 " Pore little un !" he said, in a broken voice. 
 
 She began to beat her forehead with her left hand, 
 while she clutched his arm more tightly with her right. 
 
 "How kin I think fer myself?" she demanded, in a 
 shrill, hysterical voice. "It s you i mus tell me wot to 
 do !" 
 
 He smiled with an effort, though he was sick at heart. 
 
 " Then we ll let the Doc go hang," he declared. 
 
 But either she would not or could not understand. 
 She had the look of one frantic with pain, sick with the 
 torment of racked nerves and distempered thoughts. 
 Her eyes had a lack-lustre, moony expression, which 
 broke now and then into sudden brightness. She did 
 not try to answer, but all at once broke away from him 
 with an inarticulate cry, and fled towards the house. He 
 
275 
 
 watched her speed across the veranda and disappear in 
 the half - darkness beyond the open door, and a great 
 horror came over him. 
 
 " Have I set er crazy with all the rest ?" he won 
 dered. 
 
 He hung about the house for hours, now stung to de 
 spair by the memory of her wild, convulsed face, now 
 sinking into a state bordering on apathy as his torment 
 became too great to bear ; now hurrying out to the barn 
 in an aimless spasm of movement, but always returning to 
 the house in the hope that she would again appear. 
 
 " She s sick/ was all he could get from the missus, who 
 eyed him with a forbidding glance, in which he detected 
 a mixture of exultation and threat. "She ll come down 
 when she feels like it. Till then ye kin jes nachelly let 
 er alone." 
 
 He did not see her again till afternoon. Then he was 
 almost as terrified as before at the change which had taken 
 place in her. She met him with smiling calmness and 
 took both his hands. 
 
 "Fve been asleep," she explained. "Ye re s prised, 
 ain t ye ? But it ain t so queer. I didn t shet my eyes 
 all las night. ]S r or till mos noon. I d been runnin 
 aroun the room, flingin myself fust into one cheer, then 
 Another, then rollin on the bed, then settin flat on the 
 floor, tryin to think wot to do. Then all to wunst peared 
 like suthin cool V quiet come over me like the sound 
 o the river when I m tired, only this come stronger ; n 
 I wanted to lay down n rest. Oh, I don t know how I 
 felt as I laid there like a sunny bank when the wind 
 blows over it. N I went to sleep, V when I woke up 
 I was jes s quiet s I was when I shet my eyes ; n peared 
 like the nap d settled everything fer me. I felt shore 
 now o wot I wanted to do so calm V sure I knowed 
 I d never change my mind. I ll be myself fer Sam s 
 sake, says I. Or I ll die. I d ruther die n not be like 
 
 
276 
 
 wot God made me. N so it s settled. Ye kin see the 
 doctor." 
 
 Sam examined her placid face with something like awe. 
 
 " But if / objeck ?" he asked. 
 
 She smiled, with the same still light of assurance in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Twon t do no good now. Sides, ye won t objeck, 
 not reely. Ye don t want me to die ye don t want me 
 to take chances, that s all. The cure ye know ye d like 
 to see me cured. N I won t die. I ll live to be wot I 
 was afore that horrid day. Die ? No ! When 11 ye see 
 the Doc V tell im ?" 
 
 Sam s heart shrank in foreboding. 
 
 "I wish to God I d never told ye o it !" he cried. 
 
 "No," she said, with her new, calm smile. "Ye done 
 right. It s plain s day to me." 
 
 " Ye re shore ye ve made up yer mind ?" 
 
 <f Shore," was the quiet answer. 
 
 <"W won t change it?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 He half turned from her. 
 
 " Ye ll die, I know ye will !" he cried, with a sort of 
 fury. 
 
 "No no," she soothed, approaching him gently and 
 stroking his sleeve. "No no ! I kin see how it 11 turn 
 out. Oh, I kin see so plain !" 
 
 He flung himself away from her with a vast impatience 
 of himself. 
 
 " I was a fool. I orter V borne it as my own trouble V 
 not forced it on you" 
 
 " Tain t a trouble no longer. It s a joy. Won t I be 
 tryin to make myself better fer yer sake ? Wot kin I do 
 better n that ?" 
 
 " Live fer me !" he cried, with something like a sob. 
 
 But she only smiled. 
 
 "When 11 ye see the Doc ?" she repeated. 
 
277 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 "Must I do it myself? Must I go through the oper 
 ation alone ? Ah, Sam, ye won t make me do that ! Wot 
 friend have I got to look to but you ? Ye won t fail 
 me now. Ye ll stay with me 11 help me I know ye 
 will !" 
 
 "Drop the hull infernal plan it s the devil s work !" 
 
 "Don t urge me my mind s made up. I could never 
 go back arter this I ve caught a glimpse o wot I was V 
 wot I may be. I d be a unhappy critter I d be allus 
 broodin over wot might V been." 
 
 "Ye re good nough s ye be," declared Sam. "If I 
 love ye, wot more kin ye ask ?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Shall I have to go over n see the Doc myself ?" 
 
 " Wait wait !" he groaned. 
 
 " Wait ? My mind won t change. Why not see im 
 this arternoon ?" 
 
 " Great God ! This arternoon !" 
 
 " To-morrer mornin , then. Not later. Why not do it 
 right away ? I won t be put off !" 
 
 "Ye may change yer mind by mornin ," he persisted. 
 
 She gave him a slow, keen glance of comprehension 
 such as he had never seen in her eyes before. 
 
 " I ll wait till then," she said, and turned away. 
 
 He met her before breakfast, and his heart failed him 
 as he found her in the same quiet mood. 
 
 "Ye ll go this mornin ," she began, not with a question 
 ing accent, but in a tone of calm statement. 
 
 " Then ye ain t changed yer mind ?" he breathed. 
 
 " No. I know wot I m doin . It s fer the best." 
 
 " If harm comes o it " 
 
 "I ll bear the blame." 
 
 " Ye can t, fer it 11 be mine. Oh, Lord ! Why couldn t 
 I V held my tongue ?" 
 
 "Ye done right," she said, with a seriousness which 
 
278 
 
 had grown out of her new hopes and fears. " The rest is 
 fer me to do. Ye ll go this mornin ?" 
 
 " Yes," he groaned. 
 
 And after breakfast he set out for Halstead s. 
 
 He found the doctor in his room,, poring over a volume 
 on brain surgery. 
 
 " You have decided ?" was his greeting. 
 
 "She s decided/ Sam answered, gloomily. 
 
 " She ? The missus ?" 
 
 " The little un. I ain t told the missus a word. But 
 the little un o course she had to know. She was power 
 ful sensible bout it. Ye orter V seen er. I left the hull 
 bizness with her." 
 
 The doctor fetched a long breath. 
 
 " She is sensible," he remarked. " Is she ready ?" 
 
 " Ready V eager." 
 
 " You ll speak to the missus next ?" 
 
 " I reckon. Well, I ll tackle er afore dinner, if ye say 
 so. Pears like I m in fer it now. I don t prove o the 
 bizness, I want ye to onderstan that." 
 
 "You will after it s over. Come and tell me the mis 
 sus s decision as soon as you get it," said the doctor. 
 
 " Wit she won t listen?" 
 
 "I ve thought of all that." 
 
 " I like to think o it, myself." 
 
 " Like to think of it ? Why ?" 
 
 "Fer then the bizness 11 drop." 
 
 " Will it ?" The doctor s smile was enigmatical. " You 
 remember what I said the other day ?" 
 
 " That we could go on thout er ?" 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "I ve wondered wot ye meant. We might bring the 
 little un over ere to Halstead s " 
 
 "No. The operation will take place at her own 
 home." 
 
 " Well, Fll be " 
 
279 
 
 "Fve gone over the entire ground. I know what Fm 
 talking about." 
 
 Sam was impressed by the doctor s confidence. 
 
 "Well, /don t, then ! But how d ye pose to manage 
 it?" 
 
 "Come to me at once with her decision/ said the 
 strange man. And more than that Sam could not get 
 from him. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 SAM stated the case with an abruptness which would 
 have been brutal had he intended to produce a fainting 
 fit in a woman less steeled against surprises than Phoebe 
 Ellen. As it was, she turned pale it was a hard pallor, 
 which might have been painted on iron and her features 
 drew together in rigid lines which he felt would look 
 even more unpleasant when they relaxed. She had been 
 out in the wind, and there was the stiffness of aggression 
 in her scattered hair. Her apron was on crooked, and 
 even without the import of Sam s announcement in her 
 face she had an appearance of antagonism which came 
 of the feeling that the world had taken sides against her. 
 
 But she understood him. For a moment she stood 
 quite still, facing him with wide eyes, through which 
 flashed quick changes of calculation and threat. 
 
 " She knows Fll marry the little un if the doctor cures 
 er," thought Sam. "She s gittin fct all clear ,afore she 
 says a word." 
 
 And indeed Phoebe Ellen s control of herself was a 
 thing to be wondered at. Her under- jaw did not drop 
 he had expected it would, as was her habit when sur 
 prised ; but her lips parted in the thin, hard line against 
 her teeth, as he knew it of old, and her breath came in 
 quick impulses from the top of her lungs. Her whole 
 expression was one of quivering excitement, overmastered 
 by a momentary self-control which might give way as 
 soon as it became conscious of itself. 
 
 And the fact was that, apart from his message, Sam s 
 appearance at that particular moment was unfortunate. 
 
281 
 
 She had been in a state of domestic exasperation all the 
 morning. Things had gone wrong ; the work had set 
 itself against her ; she could not do anything just as she 
 liked. Leatherhead had been obtuse, and she had given 
 him more than one lick with the rough side of her 
 tongue. After all this, she was in a mood for decisions. 
 She had delivered several in the course of the morning, 
 and they had all proved rash and ill-considered, but there 
 was a promptness of perversity in her to-day which craved 
 outlet and action, and which soared equally above reason 
 and sentiment in the delight of self-assertion. In this 
 mood any demand upon her generosity was dangerous 
 both to the cause and the pleader of it. 
 
 " Oh ! A operation ?" she repeated, after Sam had 
 blurted out what he had to say. Her features did not 
 relax ; she still preserved her self-control, and Sam could 
 not help noting that there was something fine in the pose 
 of the lifted chin and the backward slant of the face as 
 she half shut her eyes against his. "A operation by Doc 
 Sedgwick ?" 
 
 Sam nodded. 
 
 "A operation by that corpse that toadstool ? Well \" 
 
 The lines around her mouth grew deeper, and her 
 breathing came from still higher in her lungs, so that her 
 voice sounded thin though smooth. 
 
 ( He mus be improvin 7 in health/ 7 she went on, show 
 ing her teeth more broadly in a vixenish smile. "He 
 he mus 7 be gittin frisky to to ondertake a job like 
 that I" 
 
 " I d know s he is," answered Sam, somewhat awed 
 by her obvious struggle for self-control. 
 
 He expected her to laugh scornfully, but she did not. 
 
 "Weak s ever?" she asked, in the same thin voice, in 
 which he could detect her heart-beats. 
 
 " He seems purty fur gone, that s a fact." And to him 
 self Sam wondered, "Wot s she drivin at, anyhow ?" 
 
282 
 
 ( Trembly, oncertain, shaky ?" continued Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 And now he saw the point she was trying to make. 
 
 " Oh, he kin brace up on brandy," he said, in a tone of 
 assurance. 
 
 " Ye Vlieve it ?" 
 
 The question came quietly enough, but her lips were 
 quivering. In another moment her rage would break 
 forth. Would it take the form of shrieks or tears ? 
 
 "Yes," he answered. 
 
 "Heb lieves it hisself ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Fools!" 
 
 She almost yielded to the rage which Nature intended 
 the word to express, but she caught her temper and a 
 long breath at the same moment and went on : 
 
 "He wanted ye to ast me to let im operate on er ?" 
 
 "He b lieves he could bring back er reason." 
 
 " She s got a sight more reason n he has, to frhink o 
 sech a thing." Her voice was still tolerably calm, though 
 the convulsive movement of her mouth continued. "D 
 you want im to try it ?" she demanded, suddenly. 
 
 His answer was ready, and he delivered it with a quiet 
 ness that surprised himself. 
 
 "It ud make me the happiest man on top o God s 
 green airth if she was to git well. Ye know that." 
 
 Something like a paralytic stroke distorted her features 
 from chin to forehead. 
 
 " Tell im," she cried, in a voice that would have been 
 a scream had it not still betrayed the beating of her heart 
 "tell im HI never let im tech er I ll keep er under 
 lock V key fust ! Tell im " there came a ghastly, chat 
 tering grin into the twitching muscles of the mouth that 
 made her next speech tragic "tell im I wouldn t let im 
 op rate on a sick cat fer me ! Tell im I wouldn t let im 
 op rate 011 a paper doll ! D ye hear ?" She burst into a 
 dry, rattling laugh which cracked in her throat and left 
 
283 
 
 her gasping. Then, before he had time to wonder what 
 she would do next, she turned and new from the room 
 like an animal in a fit. 
 
 Sam fetched a grim sigh. 
 
 "She won t change er mind, nuther," he said to him 
 self. " W I swear, I d know but wot she s right. The 
 little un s mind s made up fer keeps, too, V in the op site 
 direction she s so calm n sweet-like bout it t ye d make 
 shore to see er t she d had the hull thing settled from 
 the beginnin . Well, this is a case fer the Doc to settle. 
 Didn t he say he had some sort o medicine fer sech a 
 crisis ? Anyways, it s too much fer me. I ll go back to 
 Halstead s s fast as Judy kin take me, V see wot lie s got 
 to offer." 
 
 He found the consumptive as he had left him, propped 
 up on the same tumbled pillows and reading the same 
 leather-bound volume on brain surgery. 
 
 " Well ?" he questioned, as Sam took his place before 
 him. " Sit down, for God s sake ! You make me wild, 
 using up your muscular energy as if it didn t amount to 
 anything. There, that s better. And now what s the 
 good word ?" 
 
 "She won t cornsent," said the cowboy. 
 
 "You call that a good word ?" 
 
 "Anyways, it s got its good side." 
 
 " So has the devil, if you make yourself akin to him. 
 So she refused ?" 
 
 "From the start." 
 
 " You pleaded with her ?" 
 
 "If ye d a seen er, ye wouldn t ast that ! I knowed 
 fust off t she wouldn t listen." 
 
 The doctor closed the volume, and let it slip between his 
 knee and the arm of the chair. It was too heavy for him 
 to lift and thrust upon the stand at his elbow. 
 
 " I thought it only right to give her a chance," he said. 
 
 " Ye ve got suthin"t ye reckon 11 bring er to terms ?" 
 
284 
 
 The strange man smiled. 
 
 "I have." 
 
 " Better give it up better give it up ! They s s much 
 to be said agin the hull bizness a fer it." 
 
 "Never!" The doctor s thin face took on a look of 
 resolution. "I tell you, Sam, I can cure that girl, and 
 Fm going to do it. Fve been reading on the subject I 
 knew most of it before, but I wanted it fresh in my mind. 
 It will be the last act of my life I know that but could 
 I quit the world under happier circumstances ? We ve al 
 ready talked over the reason why the missus refuses ! It s 
 because she s afraid you ll marry the girl if she gets well." 
 
 "Her head s level there/ said Sam. "If the little un 
 ud be willin ." 
 
 "There s another reason, too." 
 
 " Cause she s got a spite at ye ?" 
 
 " Go back to the cause of her spite, and you ll have it." 
 
 Sam scratched his head. 
 
 " I never heerd er say why she hated ye," he said. 
 
 "No ? Then I ll tell you though not in words. Sam, 
 look me straight in the eye." 
 
 The command was peculiar, and the tone uncanny. 
 Sam obeyed. 
 
 "Ye come at a feller like the devil in a dream," he 
 murmured, after gazing a moment. 
 
 " Hold your eyes on mine hold them there in spite of 
 something in them that tries to wrench them away. Hold 
 them there in spite of what you know I am looking at in 
 side you. It is the easiest w r ay to tell you why the missus 
 hates me." 
 
 Sam obeyed with a sort of dazed passivity. A mysteri 
 ous influence was certainly at work upon him. He felt a 
 desire it was like fear to close his eyes against the doc 
 tor s, and shut out the light which he saw rising from 
 abysmal depths and concentrating itself before rushing 
 into his own soul and illuminating it. 
 
285 
 
 " All ! you want to turn away/" the strange man said, in 
 a voice which sounded afar off. "Don t use your will 
 against mine only be passive and let me look in. It will 
 facilitate the business. Do my eyes hurt yours ? No 
 matter. It is but for a moment. Do you feel the light 
 pouring in upon your thoughts sending sharp flashes 
 here and there ? Don t fear why, you are actually pale ! 
 Think of a fellow like me frightening the blood from the 
 face of one of your stamp. Let me look in let me look 
 in. You have nothing to be ashamed of nothing to con 
 ceal nothing that should trouble you if I find it out. 
 Think of something anything you like. Ah ! That is 
 right. You go back involuntarily to the most important 
 event in your life. Shall I tell you about it ? It happened 
 at your ranch somewhere farther south Las Animas, is 
 it? Shall I go on?" 
 
 " Go on," murmured Sam, like one in a trance. 
 
 " Your mind goes back a long way such a long way ! 
 to the time when you first came to Colorado and took 
 up your ranch from the government ten years ago and 
 more. And who is this ? Smith ? Yes, Bill Smith, old 
 Bill Smith is the name I read there. He settled on the 
 next ranch above how many miles ? five miles above. 
 He had a daughter Sarah blue-eyed, brown-haired, and 
 with cheeks as red as the wild roses that grew in the 
 canon above the cabin. You fell in love with her it was 
 natural at your age. And really she was pretty; at any 
 rate, she looked beautiful to you. Lord ! How you loved 
 her, how you used to follow her about, hanging upon her 
 words, gloating over her movements ! So did Tim Sullivan 
 he had dark eyes and a black mustache, did Tim, and 
 that decided the business. That s the way with women 
 if it isn t a mustache, it s something else of equal im 
 portance. Tim got her, and you are thankful to-day, for 
 she leads him a life, there on the ranch adjoining yours. 
 But it cut you up horribly at the time. You left the 
 
286 
 
 place handed the ranch over to your father and mother 
 and a younger brother, and you ve never had the courage 
 to go back. I didn t know you were so sentimental, 
 Sam !" 
 
 "Fer God s sake, let my affairs alone!" breathed the 
 cowboy, in terror. 
 
 But the doctor went on : 
 
 "You could go back there now it wouldn t hurt 
 much, now that the little un has driven Sarah altogether 
 out. But she cut deep, that Sarah, didn t she, Sam ? 
 You wandered about for years Arizona, Mexico, Hono 
 lulu and finally settled here as Dan Thompson s right- 
 hand man. There ! Have I read enough ?" 
 
 "Too much," muttered Sam. " Lemme go lemme 
 go !" He was like a weak man struggling in the grasp of 
 a strong one. 
 
 The doctor removed his eyes and the cowboy breathed 
 a sigh of relief. 
 
 "You may go," he said, with his enigmatic smile. 
 
 Sam sat for a full minute rubbing his eyes as if to get 
 the ache of the doctor s glance out of them. 
 
 " It beats all," he finally murmured. " How in God s 
 name d ye do it ?" 
 
 "Don t ask I don t understand it myself. It s a gift, 
 a curse what you like. Suffice it that I did it and can 
 do it again. The chief point is that you admit I read 
 what you were thinking about." 
 
 " Ye done it, shore." Sam was still rubbing his eyes. 
 
 " Does any one in this part of the world know the facts 
 I have told you about ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Did you ever tell any one ?" 
 
 "No one, livin or dead." 
 
 "My object in it all was neither curiosity nor un- 
 kindness. I wanted you to believe what I tell you 
 next." 
 
287 
 
 " Oh, I kin b lieve anything now. I ve heerd o yer 
 doin s afore, but I never took no stock in it. I "member 
 the missus " 
 
 " Yes, the missus ! She told you I tried my power on 
 her ?" 
 
 " Yes. W she said she shet ye off afore ye found out 
 anything." 
 
 "She was too sure. You believe I can read people s 
 minds, Sam ?" 
 
 "It shorely beats the world !" 
 
 "Well, I saw into the missus s mind as I did into 
 yours, only not so far. And I want to tell you what I 
 found there." 
 
 Sam pricked up his ears. 
 
 "Suthin to skeer er with?" he questioned, quickly. 
 " Suthin to make er cornsent to the operation ?" 
 
 " My idea to a dot ! I didn t suppose you could grasp 
 the situation so readily. It s true, though, that she shut 
 me off before I found out all I wanted to know. She has 
 a will, that woman. Rather hysterical, to be sure, but 
 effectual as far as keeping me out of her affairs is con 
 cerned. But I found out something." 
 
 "Suthin to the purpose ?" 
 
 " I think so. Nothing definite " 
 
 " I m afeerd gen ral statements won t go," remarked 
 Sam. 
 
 "I think they will in this case. Listen ! The missus 
 has done her sister some great wrong." 
 
 Sam puckered his mouth to whistle, but relaxed it im 
 mediately to ask : 
 
 " Her sister ? A wrong ? The little un ?" 
 
 The doctor nodded. 
 
 "A great wrong ? Wot d ye mean by that ?" 
 
 " I wish I knew ! That s what exasperates me ; she 
 shut down on me like a trap before I could discover a 
 thing beyond the fact that the little un had been wronged. 
 
288 
 
 It was evident, too, that the missus had done the wrong 
 and feared detection/ " 
 
 " That beats me," muttered Sam. 
 
 " You have every reason to believe me/ said the doctor. 
 
 " Oh, I b lieve ye," Sam hastened to say. 
 
 "I ve shown you what I can do in the mind-reading 
 line." 
 
 "Oh, that s all right!" Sam s eagerness might have 
 been construed into a dread that the doctor would insist 
 on trying his experiment again. 
 
 "Then your course is plain. You are to go to the 
 missus and inform her that unless she consents to the 
 operation, the wrong she has done her sister will be re 
 vealed." 
 
 " But how Tcin it be revealed if ye don t know wot tis?" 
 
 The doctor stirred impatiently. 
 
 "Don t be particular," he said, in a fretful tone. " Make 
 her think you know all about it that s all you have to 
 do. She ll know what you mean when you threaten her 
 with the wrong. And she ll come down." 
 
 "I ain t no great shakes at pertendin ," said Sam, in a 
 tone of regret. 
 
 " Pretending is wicked, of course, except when the end 
 justifies the means. But this time so much depends 
 on it" 
 
 "A wrong," said Sam, meditatively. " Wot kin it be ? 
 The little un don t know nothin bout it that s shore. 
 It must a happened afore she got hurt. The missus s 
 been good to er allus, fur s I kin see. A wrong ! Ye re 
 shore ?" 
 
 "Quite sure." The doctor s tone was conclusive. 
 
 Sam fetched a mighty sigh from his abysmal lungs. 
 
 "I wish t I was red o the hull bizness," he declared. 
 " N Fd stop right ere if I didn t know the little un s 
 mind was made up. But" he sighed again "I ll try 
 I ll try !" 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 EAKLY the next morning Sam again made his appear 
 ance before the doctor. 
 
 " It didn t work/ was his brief announcement. "All I 
 could git out o er was t ye mus be crazy V she pitied 
 ye. That was er fust n last word." 
 
 And he waited anxiously to see how the news would 
 affect his companion. 
 
 " Oh !" was the strange man s comment, while his eyes 
 brightened dangerously. " She said I was crazy, did she ? 
 She said she pitied me, hey ?" He leaned back in his 
 chair, and Sam could see his chest heave. "You came 
 over in the backboard ?" he suddenly inquired. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " There s room for my trunk in behind ?" 
 
 "Yer trunk?" 
 
 " Why not ? I am going back to the ranch with you as 
 your guest to stay a long time. Aren t you pleased ? I 
 swear you look only surprised ! Try to look delighted, 
 now, if only for politeness sake." 
 
 " But the missus " Sam began. 
 
 The doctor set his thin lips. 
 
 "I shall incidentally see your mistress, of course. But 
 you will be the chief object of my tender solicitude, and 
 I shall expect a good deal of attention from you in return. 
 And you ll begin by packing my trunk for me, like a good 
 fellow. Are you ready ? First, the brandy-bottle look 
 well to that ; and just give me a nip at it to brace me up 
 for the occasion. Ah, so ! Take a smile yourself, won t 
 you ? That s what you call it, I think, out here. Ah, I 
 
 19 
 
290 
 
 thought you would,, and now we both feel better. Next, 
 the bottles on the shelf by the looking-glass yes, the 
 whole drug-store of them. You don t know what a lot of 
 stuff a man in my condition has to take in order to fight 
 off the undertaker. And the case of instruments Fve 
 been examining them lately, and they re in apple-pie or 
 der. That s right ! Now fill in with the under-clothing 
 you ll find in the top drawer of the bureau. Good ! No 
 need to lock it the key isn t there, anyway. Help me on 
 with my overcoat, and carry my cushions out to the buck- 
 board. Great heavens ! What makes you stare so ? Fin 
 not a ghost yet. Who ever heard of a ghost with my pres 
 ent executive power ? Aren t you ready ? Do come on !" 
 
 "But ain t ye goin to tell me wot ye mean to do ?" 
 
 "Not a word. I ve got it all to do myself, and it will 
 come out better if no one knows what Fm at. Oh, I can 
 do it no fear of that. I haven t felt so Avell since I was 
 at Harvard I could lick my weight in wild-cats, as old 
 Halstead says. When it s done, Fll tell you. Not a word 
 till then." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen was surprised at the coming of the doctor, 
 but her self-control did not desert her. She received him 
 with civility, if not with cordiality ; and the strange man, 
 in spite of the weariness induced by his ride, could not 
 keep a touch of sarcasm from his greeting. 
 
 "Sam insisted so strongly on my coming over," he ex 
 plained, with his enigmatical smile. "And of course I 
 knew I would be heartily welcomed by you. The fact is, 
 I have been vegetating there at Halstead s, and I need a 
 bit of a change. Thanks, my health is much improved of 
 late. / feel equal to anything. 77 He emphasized the words 
 to suit himself. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen returned the doctor s smile in kind. 
 
 " We ll git along nicely together," she rejoined, with 
 diumond-cut-diamond aggressiveness. " I feel jes that 
 way myself ekal to anything /" 
 
291 
 
 And her emphasis was as marked as his. 
 
 "She ll fight hard," was the doctor s mental com 
 ment. 
 
 He inquired about her sister, and she assured him that 
 she was well, only that she had been keeping rather close 
 ly to her room of late. Not ill no ; only more quiet and 
 reserved than usual. 
 
 "Ah, that may be a good sign," said the doctor. 
 
 After seeing him and his belongings bestowed in the 
 guest-chamber a room whose claims to gentility were 
 based on an ingrain carpet, three chromos, and a walnut 
 centre-table with turned legs Phoebe Ellen ran down to 
 the kitchen. 
 
 " Leathern ead !" she called from the doorway. 
 
 The roustabout looked up from the kettle which he was 
 scraping. 
 
 " Run up the 1 Eden City road beyend the three pines 
 n watch there till Pinky comes along. I ll do yer work 
 ere in the kitchen." 
 
 Leatherhead s look of aimless surprise grew into a 
 moony vacancy of satisfaction as he comprehended. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen continued : 
 
 "I want ye to tell im when he comes to wait there fer 
 me. Tell im suthin s happened. Now, off with ye !" 
 
 And she pushed him from the house. 
 
 In the course of an hour he was back. She had been 
 watching for him, and met him just inside the kitchen 
 door. 
 
 " Well ?" she inquired. " He s come ?" 
 
 es Come ? Well, I should say ! N he s got on a new hat 
 from Lagunitas I tole im I wouldn t be seen to a dog 
 fight with it, n he said I wa n t nothin but sloppy Dutch, 
 nohow. Oh yes, he s come. Ye could V knocked im 
 over with a crowbar when I tole im suthin d happened 
 V he mus wait fer ye. Oh, be ye gone ? Well ! To 
 leave a feller right in the middle o a speech like that !" 
 
292 
 
 And a moment later Leatherhead s voice was heard from 
 the kitchen singing at its highest pitch : 
 
 "I owe five dollars to O Grady, 
 
 And he thinks he s got a mortgage on my life !" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen passed stealthily out through the wood 
 shed, then up the slope among the rocks. The sun shone 
 brightly, and gave a fierce blackness to the shadows on the 
 mountain-side. A south wind was blowing, and the music 
 of the pines was the only sound that broke the autumnal 
 silence of the hills. 
 
 A little beyond the spot where the road disappeared 
 above the ridge she found Pinky with two horses and a 
 buckboard. 
 
 "Come down come down !" she cried. "I m out o 
 breath n can t climb up there on the seat beside ye. I ve 
 got a world o things to say. Don t mind tyin 7 the beasts 
 they ll stan ." 
 
 Pinky seated himself at her side on the trunk of a fallen 
 pine. 
 
 " Wot is it ?" he asked, anxiously. 
 
 " She mus go to-night," said Phoebe Ellen, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "That s wot I come fer," he answered. "I got yer 
 letter, V I made ready like mad. Does Sam suspect ?" 
 
 "We could git along if we only had him to deal with. 
 To Nebrasky. Ye onderstan ? Ye re to take er to the 
 address I ll give ye later on." 
 
 "I ve fixed everything so t I kin leave at midnight on 
 the down train." 
 
 " Good ! But ye mus n t come down to the house, nor 
 let em know ye re anywheres near. Sam wouldn t s peck 
 nothin we could pull the wool over his eyes all right. 
 But a dozen things has happened sence I seen ye. Ye 
 know why I want er to go. I tole ye wunst." 
 
 " I ain t likely to fergit it," said Pinky. 
 
" Oh, that that waVt no reason, though I thought it 
 was at the time. But now Pinky, it s a matter o life n 
 death !" 
 
 Pinky s eyes were alert but puzzled. 
 
 " Suthin new ?" he asked, with increased anxiety. 
 
 " Yes. I didn t want to hurry things I knowed it ud 
 set Sam agin me ; but now that don t tech me. She s got 
 to go, n quick, too. Sam s forced me to it him V that 
 doctor. They they want a operation/ 
 
 tc A operation ?" Pinky s mouth was wide with wonder. 
 
 "Ye don t onderstan o course not. But the Doc s 
 got a bran -new maggot in his head. N Sam s with im. 
 They say sis could be cured by a operation. Sam come 
 at me yistiddy like a airthquake ye d V made shore the 
 world was comin to a end. That s why I sent fer ye to 
 come right off. Suthin had to be done." 
 
 "A operation," repeated Pinky, considering deeply. 
 "Well, why not try it," he finally asked, "if the Doc 
 makes shore he kin cure er ?" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen had her answer ready. She could not 
 trust Pinky with the whole truth. He had unreservedly 
 taken sides with her thus far, but she had an instinctive 
 assurance that he would have nothing to do with the kid 
 napping if he understood the deception she had practised 
 in the ownership of the ranch. 
 
 " Try it ?" she cried. He d kill er ! Don t I know ? 
 He ain t no more fit to do a doctor s operation n a chat- 
 term corpse ! He d kill er n how d we all feel then ?" 
 
 "He d kill er the fust thing/ assented Pinky, after 
 another spell of meditation. 
 
 " He would, fer shore. Our only chance is to git er 
 out o the way s quick s ever we kin, fer him V Sam s 
 laid their heads together, n they re bound to rule or 
 ruin." 
 
 " I m s prised at Sam/ said Pinky, with a grieved head- 
 shake. 
 
294 
 
 " So be I. But the wust s to f oiler. I tole Sam I d 
 never cornsent I tole im plain V solemn, V a body d 
 think that orter settle it. But it didn t. Wot d ye reckon 
 he s gone V done ?" 
 
 Can t magine," said Pinky, with another shake. 
 
 "He s gone V brung the doctor over on a long visit. 
 Don t I see through em ? They mean to do that opera 
 tion some day when I don t happen to be on my guard. S 
 if I wa n t cap ble o managin my own sister t ain t able to 
 look out fer erself ! No ; it ain t a question o marryin 
 Sam now, Pinky. That s all over. All I want s to keep 
 im from murderin my pore sister. I have a right to see 
 to that." 
 
 (( No doubt o that," acquiesced Pinky. 
 
 " N if ye git er safe to Nebrasky " 
 
 " Yes ?" interrupted Pinky, eagerly. 
 
 I ll marry ye the day ye come back ! No ye needn t 
 kiss me I don t feel like it. But I ll do wot I say. N 
 see ere. Git the team n yerself out o sight n keep em 
 there fer any sakes. That doctor s the devil s own he 
 kin read ye like a open book. He s tired now, V prob ly 
 he won t start in with his proddin and pryin afore 
 to-morrer, n by that time " 
 
 " It 11 be too late," finished Pinky. 
 
 "It 11 be too late! N he kin go back to Halstead s 
 s soon s he likes, n die there ! N as fer Sam " 
 
 "Yes Sam?" questioned Pinky, more eagerly than 
 before. 
 
 "I ll fire im off the place to-morrer !" was Phoebe El 
 len s ultimatum. 
 
 And she rose to go back. 
 
 "Ye kin drive off somers amongst the rocks V trees 
 where they won t be apt to find ye, can t ye ? They s a 
 open space up there beyend them rocks t nobody s likely 
 to go to. I ll bring ye suthin to eat n a pack o Leather- 
 head s Police Gazettes to look at. They re interestin 
 
295 
 
 mighty interestin . Full o blood V pizenin , n all sorts 
 o wicked things. I m sorry " 
 
 "Oh, that s all right/ Pinky assured her. "I sliaVt 
 be lonesome. I ll be thinkin o our weddin -day, V that 
 11 make the time pass." 
 
 "Oh, well," was Phoebe Ellen s somewhat absent ac 
 knowledgment as she started down the hill. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE doctor was indeed tired so tired that Sam car 
 ried him to his room and put him to bed as if he were a 
 baby. 
 
 "I ll go to sleep presently," the sick man said. "I ll 
 have to take something, though don t you see how ner 
 vous I am ? Not brandy no, that doesn t suit the case. 
 Take the things out of my trunk, won t you ? there s a 
 good soul and hand me the bottle with the dark liquid. 
 Never mind the clothes toss them into a corner any 
 where. Did anything break ? No ? That s lucky. You 
 must have packed them more carefully than I thought. 
 No not that bottle. That s dark, to be sure, but it isn t 
 what I want. There was no use bringing that along, any 
 way ; but I suppose it was with the others, and I didn t 
 notice. It isn t medicine at least, not my medicine. By 
 the way, you might be interested to know what it is. 
 "Well, it s an antidote to loco poisoning." 
 
 " Loco poisonin ?" 
 
 " Of course you know the loco-weed that grows here 
 abouts ?" 
 
 Sam nodded. 
 
 "Last fall I got Leatherhead to gather me a lot. I 
 wanted to send it to Stafford. Stafford s a friend of mine 
 in Boston a chemist, keen for poisons, you know. Well, 
 I was curious to have him get at the real principle of the 
 loco-weed, and so I sent enough of it to set all Boston 
 crazy or, according to Hahnemann, enough to make 
 them all sane. He went at it with all the joy in life, you 
 may be sure, and frequently reported progress by letter. 
 
297 
 
 Well, he has discovered that loco-mania is the result of 
 anaemia of the brain ; in other words, loco-weed drives 
 the blood from the brain. So an animal that takes loco- 
 weed into his system simply causes a rush of blood from 
 the brain, and that makes him mad." 
 
 " Lord \" ejaculated Sam, wide-eyed. 
 
 "Stafford thinks the drug can be used to advantage in 
 apoplexy, and I don t see why not. But I was going to 
 tell you about the bottle there. It s Stafford s antidote. 
 Antidote means cure, you know. Now, a few drops in 
 water would cure a locoed steer in half an hour. And a 
 man did you ever hear of a locoed man, Sam ?" 
 
 "They was a Mexican seiiorita down in Sonora when 
 I was there t dosed a feller to git revenge, n he died a 
 ravin maniac." 
 
 " Three drops of that liquid in half a tumbler of water 
 would have saved him," said the doctor, sententiously. 
 " Stafford has tried the poison and the remedy on himself. 
 A half an hour does the business. Ah ! There is the 
 sleeping-potion ; would you mind pouring it out for rne ? 
 A teaspoonf ul in water thanks, I ought to have a pitcher 
 of water in my room. I ll have to ask lots of such things 
 of you, but you ll lose nothing by it in the end." 
 
 The draught was administered, and the doctor adjust 
 ed himself among the pillows while Sam tucked him 
 snugly in. Then he darkened the room, placed the glass 
 and pitcher on a chair at the head of the bed, and, his 
 services being no longer required, he left the room. 
 
 "I ain t seen the little un to-day," he said to himself, 
 as he crossed the open space between the house and the 
 barn. " She s quiet, the missus said, but perfeckly well ; 
 n the Doc said that might be a good sign. I don t want 
 to see er to talk to er, fer I ain t got nothin to say; but 
 it ud be good to know she s up n aroun ." 
 
 He involuntarily glanced up at Anny s window, and 
 even as he looked the well-known figure appeared, lifting 
 
298 
 
 the white cotton curtain for a glimpse of the world out 
 side. She immediately saw him and waved her hand, 
 though she made no effort to stop him. He was glad of 
 that, for, as he had just told himself, he had nothing to 
 say. He answered her signal eagerly, but turned away at 
 once lest she should want to speak with him. 
 
 "The thing s in the Doc s hands now," he thought, 
 " V I m goin to leave it there. When he s ready fer me 
 he ll tell me. Fm gittin a power o faith in the Doc. I m 
 glad he s come over, arter all." 
 
 Sam went to bed that night with a quiet mind. He had 
 never before realized the load of responsibility he bore in 
 looking out for the little un s safety. Now that the re 
 sponsibility was divided, he could sleep in peace. 
 
 "If anything happens, the Doc 11 know/ was his last 
 thought as he closed his eyes. 
 
 He must have slept himself back into his old state of 
 watchful dread, for later on, when he was awakened by a 
 blow struck by something hard upon his door, he was out 
 of bed and had his trousers on while he was still calling, 
 " Who s there ?" 
 
 Before the answer came he had time for a conclusion. 
 
 " It s come, it s come s I knowed it would !" he thought, 
 setting his teeth. "Be they takin the little un off, or 
 have they done it a ready ?" 
 
 " Don t shoot," pleaded the doctor s voice from beyond 
 the door. " It s I ! Is the door unlocked ?" 
 
 " Come in !" called Sam, jumping into his first boot 
 and reaching for his second. 
 
 The doctor entered with a comfort around him and 
 sank into a chair. He had a soap - dish in his hand, 
 which he had evidently brought with him as a knocker. 
 
 " She s gone !" he said, in a hollow voice. 
 
 The boot went on with a "chug," and in another mo 
 ment Sam was inside his vest and jacket. 
 
 "She ?" His voice sounded hoarse and strained. 
 
299 
 
 "The little un. They ve taken her she s been gone 
 an hour and a half." 
 
 Sam thrust his hat upon his head, and for the first time 
 faced his visitor. 
 
 "How d ye know all this?" he demanded. "Ye seen 
 em ye heerd em go ?" 
 
 " I haven t been awake more than five minutes. I can t 
 tell how it was, but as soon as I opened my eyes I knew 
 she was gone. Oh, it s true. You needn t stare. The 
 missus is here she isn t yet asleep. And at this moment 
 she is rejoicing that the deed is accomplished." 
 
 Sam drew out his huge silver watch and examined it 
 by the moonlight. 
 
 "It s half a hour till the down train at midnight. 
 Pinky s in this bizness, V that train s wot he s aimin 
 at. Five minutes to saddle Judy that s time V to 
 spare. It s seven mile from ere to the station. Judy 
 kin make it ! She s gone ten mile at the rate o a mile in 
 three minutes on mountain roads, n she kin do it ag in. 
 Twenty-one minutes fer the journey that leaves four 
 minutes fer accidents. It s enough !" 
 
 He rushed from the room, and the doctor heard the 
 echo of his big boots through the sitting-room and out 
 upon the veranda. As for Sam, he had forgotten every 
 thing but the work which lay before him. But he was 
 not blind, and as he dashed around the corner he saw a 
 white-robed figure leaning from the window under the 
 roof. 
 
 " Wot s the matter ?" Phoebe Ellen s voice called out. 
 And 
 
 " Hell s broke loose !" was the cowboy s answer as he 
 bounded towards the barn. 
 
 The barn door was bolted. He dashed his huge hand 
 against the iron bar in a fury of haste. The bolt caught ; 
 he seized it, drew himself in at the shoulders, as was his 
 custom before a mighty effort, then wrenched the entire 
 
300 
 
 complex of fastenings loose, screws and all, and flung them 
 aside among the weeds. The hollow gloom of the barn 
 yawned before him, crossed by bars of moonlight here and 
 there from crack and window. He leaped into the dim, 
 spacious quiet, stumbling a little, but regaining his foot 
 ing with an effort, in which his head took no part. Judy s 
 stall was directly in the moonlight good. He bounded 
 thither, pushed her aside so that the light fell full upon 
 her, and slipped her halter loose. The saddle hung on a 
 peg in the wall four feet from her heels. He had it in 
 his hands, was shaking out the girth-straps, which had 
 somehow become twisted no, that would not do. He 
 must separate them carefully had the devil been about 
 the place to upset things so ? Now ! The saddle came 
 down on Judy s back with a slap which made her shiver 
 and draw her four feet together. He reached for the 
 cinch-strap it had caught under the saddle on the other 
 side, and his hand grasped only the air. With one stride 
 he was at Judy s heels had she known her business she 
 might have settled her midnight journey then and there 
 with another he was at her side, lifting the saddle with 
 his right hand, and fumbling underneath for the delin 
 quent strap. He brought it out with a force that sent it 
 spinning its length. Now he was back in his old place, 
 the belly-band in his hand ; he drew the strap through 
 the ring, and pulled it with all his might. It gave a 
 slight noise of ripping, but he did not notice. Tighter 
 and tighter aye, hump yourself and groan, Miss Judy, 
 you ve a tidy bit of work cut out for you this night ! 
 The bridle found its place more easily, in spite of Judy s 
 clinched teeth ; Sam had but to slip a vicious forefinger into 
 the back of her mouth, give it a twist, jam in the bit, and 
 buckle the strap at the side of the head. Then out into 
 the moonlight, leaving the barn door flapping. 
 
 He leaped into the saddle without the aid of the stir 
 rups, got his feet into place, shook the reins, spoke once 
 
301 
 
 in a voice which Judy understood, and with a bound like 
 a rubber ball the animal was up and away. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen was still at her window. She shouted 
 something either in deprecation or defiance, he could not 
 tell which. One word rushed back at her his answer : 
 " Hell-cat !" and he dashed on up the hill. 
 
 His eyes were upon the road ; he felt Judy s slim, firm 
 back beneath him, her ribs against his knee ; the undula 
 tions of her body went through and through him, as if he 
 were lifted and let down by the waves of the sea, and a 
 sort of joy rushed into his blood the fury of struggle 
 against odds, the determination to win, the dashing of 
 himself against circumstances with the resolve to beat 
 them down or die. He could have laughed. 
 
 Up the hill to the three pines on the summit, where 
 Pinky had concealed himself the day before ; the saddle 
 creaked there was music in the sound ; his legs pressed 
 the taut stirrups hard there was assurance of victory in 
 Judy s easy resistance to his weight. On the summit he 
 took out his watch and examined it by the moonlight. A 
 curse escaped him. 
 
 "That devilish belly-band ! Why didn t I take time to 
 straighten it out afore I hung the saddle up ? We ve got 
 twenty-one minutes fer the race, ole gal. No time fer 
 foolin or fer accidents. Kin ye make it be ye onto yer 
 duty, my bird ?" 
 
 He glanced back over the valley just an instant ; then 
 he was straining forward in the saddle once more, his 
 knees clamping Judy s hard ribs, his eyes fixed upon the 
 living track. But he carried a picture of the river bottom 
 with him as he rushed forward through the night. He 
 could see the shadows lying black against the moonlit 
 ground ; the house, transformed among the cottonwoods, 
 looked like a big white swan among gigantic reeds ; the 
 river shallows had a hard, frozen shimmer, and the moon 
 beams shook lightly over them as if they were drifted snow. 
 
302 
 
 Now came the gradual down-grade from the summit,, 
 transfigured by the shadows of rocks and trees ; below, 
 the white, hard road ; above, the immeasurable blue and 
 the twinkling stars. A night bird fluttered across his 
 path in scared silence, and disappeared. The sluggish 
 mists on the mesa heaved inertly and settled back. The 
 wind seemed to blacken the pines as it swayed them ; 
 there were urgent impulses to effort in the very boulders, 
 which seemed to lean forward and watch his flight. Here 
 were the red sandstone rocks, worn into queer shapes by 
 the storms of ages ; they flung momentary dizzy shadows 
 across the road, which made Sam shut his eyes with a 
 foolish, involuntary fear that they were solid and would 
 cause the horse to stumble. Now he comes out on the 
 hill above the canon into which he must descend farther 
 on. It is a huge crack in the world, black as seen from 
 above, and mottled with blacker spots where rocks and 
 trees spring from the bottom and sides. The creek can 
 be heard like an approaching storm ; there is a sound as 
 of thunder borne through watery depths of air. 
 
 "A mile," Sarn counted, as he looked at his watch. 
 " Ye ve made it in jes three minutes, ole gal !" 
 
 And he laughed aloud. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 Now he is in the bottom-lands by the stream. He flies 
 through darkened spaces which never felt the radiant in 
 spiration of the sun ; he comes out in bald opens where 
 even the sage-brush refuses to grow. The wind sweeps 
 strongly down from the pines ; its sounds hollow and faint 
 and sentimental ; Sam hears it, and shudders and laughs. 
 Here is the ford below a fallen pine where an Indian en 
 campment used to be ; the bark is peeling off the huge 
 trunk in longitudinal lines, leaving white gaps like rifts in 
 the side of a ruined boat. Judy splashes in, the spray 
 flies up and catches the moon, the stars shatter themselves 
 against each other in the disturbed current. Sam s thoughts 
 are galloping as if to keep pace with the galloping steed ; 
 he does not plan the future he has no time for that ; 
 only, will the little un still care for him when she gets 
 her mind back ? Or will she turn out like Sarah ? Sarah ! 
 Sam s eyes are moist as the comparison occurs to him, 
 and his hopes grow dim as memories seen through tears. 
 And on, on the horse and his rider go, steadily, rhythmi 
 cally, as if borne by strong wings. 
 
 The road runs more deeply into the soft, loamy soil of 
 the bottoms, and the hoof-beats become muffled and the 
 mud flies ; then the ground hardens at the foot of the 
 slimy caverns where green moss grows and petrifies on the 
 walls ; and now he is out on the uplands once more, and 
 below him spreads the calmness of a lake in whose depths 
 earth and sky are reflected. Gullies lead the eye upward 
 into darkness ; the undulations of near trees have a dizzy 
 ing effect ; now the pines make an impenetrable black 
 
304 
 
 roof ; now he is out again under the echoless heaven and 
 the plunging moon. The regular puff, puff of Judy s 
 breath grows into his mental habit ; it becomes a part 
 of the landscape and his own desperation. Here is the 
 barbed-wire corner of Mead s ranch, whose owner lives 
 two miles away. 
 
 Sam looks at his watch. 
 
 "Three miles we ve made in nine minutes," he says, 
 with satisfaction. "That leaves four to make in twelve, 
 ole gal. Keep it up as ye ve begun, V we ll have time to 
 spare !" 
 
 They turn an angle of the canon, ascend a slope, and 
 come out on a summit where the pines stand motionless 
 in the half-light, as if in a translucent silvery liquid. 
 Mists are forming along the stream below, like clouds ex 
 haled from marshes. The sound of the water rises as 
 from under a weight ; the ghostly murmur of the pines 
 has the effect of nuns singing between stone-walls, and 
 trying to voice the wasting grief of their darkened lives. 
 An owl hoots from the cliff. The night is full of sights 
 and sounds of awe. The deaf earth seems listening, the 
 blind rocks peering, the dumb sky trying to speak. 
 
 Up-grade again into the moonlight, down to water again 
 and into the loamy bottoms. Again the creek is forded, 
 again there is a stretch of muddy soil on the farther side. 
 A splash the water lets them pass with a tearing sound ; 
 the yielding loam deadens the flying hoof-beats, the ear 
 gets a rest, and again the strain of flight seems momenta 
 rily relaxed. 
 
 "Good God!" 
 
 It is Sam s voice, though muffled with strong emotion. 
 The two words rise distinctly above the creaking of the 
 saddle and the hiss and puff of Judy s laboring breath. 
 Something has given way under him not Judy s back, 
 Sam knows better than that. He throws his weight a 
 little to the right the saddle follows him ; to the left, it 
 
305 
 
 shifts in that direction. Judy s wild eyes glare back at 
 him in the moonlight ; she slackens her speed a little ; 
 she knows there is something wrong. 
 
 "On, on !" Sam bellows, at the top of his lungs. And 
 the animal leaps forward as if shot from a gun. 
 
 But the cinch-strap is broken Sam realizes the truth. 
 It is dangling against the horse s legs; the flying thong 
 lashes her sides; it strikes his own foot, and stings even 
 through the thick cowhide boot. Judy is disturbed. She 
 gallops less evenly, she snorts a little, she glances behind 
 her, not fearfully, but nervously, with the annoyance of 
 an intelligent being whose purpose is crossed. 
 
 Sam rides thus a minute or so, still at full speed. The 
 saddle slips from side to side. With all his efforts he 
 cannot keep himself poised. A sudden turn in the road 
 almost flings him off. He readjusts himself, balances, 
 shakes his feet free from the stirrups. Judy quivers. She 
 is alert, but she does not slacken her speed. He seizes 
 her by the mane, leaps the pommel of the saddle, and 
 lands on her shoulders, clinging to her neck. For an in 
 stant the saddle retains its place on the horse s back. Sam 
 kicks back at it. Vainly. With a backward thrust of his 
 body he pushes it loose, and it slips to the left falls, 
 but not clear of the horse. The broken strap catches her 
 hind-leg and wraps around it like a snake. Her foot 
 comes down upon the saddle with a clash and scrape. The 
 strap still clings, Judy s onward impulse for an instant 
 drags the saddle in the dirt. She stumbles what chance 
 is there to recover her footing, going at that mad gait ? 
 She falls and strikes the ground with a groan. But 
 Sam is on top. With the cowboy s instinct of self-pres 
 ervation he calculates the direction of the fall, flings his 
 right leg free, and falls astride the prostrate beast. He 
 doesn t stop to curse there is no time. He drops the 
 reins, gets his feet together on the saddle, stands up, bends 
 
 over and unwinds the strap from the helpless fetlock. 
 20 
 
306 
 
 The horse does not understand her freedom ; she turns 
 her long neck, panting, and faces him with a wild hu 
 man glare in her eyes. Her nostrils quiver ; she seems 
 to breathe through her whole body. 
 
 "Up, Judy !" he cries. It is the first time in her life 
 that the faithful beast has disobeyed. Now she cowers 
 to the ground, frightened and inert. "Up up!" She 
 glares back at him, and her breath conies with a sobbing 
 sound. It is no time for tenderness, though Sam would 
 have exhibited it to the full under other conditions. He 
 kicks the prostrate animal unmercifully in the ribs. She 
 starts, draws her fore-feet under, struggles, finds herself 
 free, and rises with a snort. Sam leads her a dozen paces, 
 examining her gait. There is no visible limp. 
 
 "We ll make it yit !" he says to himself, with set 
 teeth. 
 
 In an instant he is astride her again. He puts the 
 spurs to her as if the devil were in him, and dashes bare 
 back up the slope among the pines. Judy understands 
 the need of making up lost time. Whatever speed there 
 is in her shows itself now. It is useless to urge her. The 
 spirit of her rider has passed into her flying legs ; it is her 
 own necessity as much as his to strain forward to the end 
 of their journey. She lays back her ears there is speed 
 in the very tips of them straightens her neck, reaches 
 out for the ground with all fours as if it were a thing to 
 be desired, grasps it, dashes it behind her as if, having at 
 tained it, she found it useless ; and reaches out again with 
 renewed effort, fiercer resolve. In a flash of moonlight 
 Sam takes out his watch and examines it. 
 
 "Three mile to make in eight minutes!" he an 
 nounces. And Judy knows that he is not satisfied with 
 her yet. 
 
 Up hill and down they go, wheeling around rocky prom 
 ontories, circling projecting pines, ascending, dropping, 
 as a bird scales the sky. The stars flash into each other; 
 
307 
 
 the moon looks blue. The wind rushes one way, they the 
 other. It whitens the aspens behind them as foam whit 
 ens the waves in the wake of a boat. Sam hears nothing 
 but the dash of the air against his ears, and the beat, beat,, 
 beat of the horse s hoofs ; beat, beat, beat, as if his own 
 heart were throbbing outside him. The pines reel past in 
 a maniac dance ; they clutch the blue moon, wrestle with 
 her, hide her in their huge black arms, then toss her high 
 into heaven again. The shadow of the horse in the white 
 light, long-legged and distorted, projects itself against the 
 rocks, disappears, heaves into sight in unexpected places, 
 flattens, grows big, draws in like elastic, but always fol 
 lows. Is it possible that Judy is going faster ? Or is it 
 only his own desperation, trying to realize what he most 
 desires ? At any rate, she is not giving out. Her breath 
 comes with a hiss and goes with a puff that reassures him ; 
 he can believe it belongs to himself. The outward fling 
 of the fore-feet comes regular and strong, and the answer 
 ing crash as they strike the ground sends no uncertain 
 quiver through the slim, firm back. Sam sits with his 
 knees screwed into the animal s ribs, his hand on the 
 bridle, not for guidance, but encouragement ; he feels the 
 beast s sympathy along the leathern thong, as if it were an 
 electric wire ; his lips are drawn, his nostrils wide, his 
 teeth set, his eyes fixed. From the crown of his head to 
 the sole of his foot he is the embodiment of a terrible 
 purpose. 
 
 Now he is in Cogswell s canon, with only the mesa be 
 tween him and the valley where the station is. Suddenly 
 a sound drifts in along the darkened air a remote sound, 
 spreading into shallow echoes among the rocks. It dies 
 away, is repeated, again sinks into stillness. 
 
 "It s the midnight train !" Sam says, under his breath. 
 And he dashes his spurs into the horse s bleeding sides. 
 
 She leaps like a boat shot from the crest to the trough 
 of a wave. " Faster faster !" he calls, leaning far for- 
 
ward. " Faster faster !" After all his hard riding, will 
 he be too late ? 
 
 The wind strikes them hard on the top of the mesa 
 overlooking Eden City. The train is not yet visible. 
 Sam knows where it is in the canon a mile above. He 
 must race with it well ; and " Faster faster !" he still 
 hisses into Judy s ear. 
 
 They cross the mesa like an electric shock. The moon 
 finds them out and takes her place at their side. They 
 race together the galloping horse and the galloping 
 moon. Sam is dizzy with the wild flight. The stars 
 dash against his eyes like hailstones. 
 
 "No jimmyin , ole gal !" he says, to bring himself back 
 to his senses. 
 
 They are down the mesa and out upon the level road. 
 There is an audible quiver in the air the train is not yet 
 in sight, but it is approaching. 
 
 "We ll beat it !" Sam roars. And Judy responds with 
 her heels. 
 
 The headlight of the engine flashes into sight from 
 behind the rocky promontory above the depot. It thrusts 
 a long cone of light towards him, big end first. 
 
 "Now now ! Take to yer wings, my bird !" he cries. 
 ""Ye ve got em !" And Judy splits the air like an in- 
 driven wedge. 
 
 The train slows up before halting. The breathless steed 
 flies on. The station is close at hand. Sam can distin 
 guish three waiting figures on the platform two men and 
 a woman : Pete Hawkins, Pinky, and the little un. He has 
 hardly made them out in the moonlight before he dashes 
 up to the platform like a cloud torn from a hurricane. 
 
 He strikes the ground whether on his head or his feet 
 he never knows. 
 
 " Sam !" cries the little un, rushing up to him and 
 seizing his arm. "Sam Sam \" and her voice dies in a 
 hysterical whimper. 
 
309 
 
 "All aboard!" roars the conductor, a car s-length up 
 the platform. 
 
 Sam puts his arm around the girl, but does not look at 
 her. 
 
 if Ye ll see to Judy, won t ye, Pete ?" he asks. " I 
 reckon I ve killed er ; but it s wuth it, I swear !" 
 
 " All aboard I" the conductor roars again. And the 
 engine coughs and wheezes. 
 
 Sam draws his companion towards the nearest car. And 
 now Pinky, for the first time, ventures to make himself 
 heard. 
 
 "Where where be ye goin with 7 er ?" he calls out, in 
 an uncertain voice. 
 
 Sam turns on him with a vicious grin. 
 
 "Now ye re askin fer information," he says, as he assists 
 Anny up the platform and into the car. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 PINKY watched the receding train with doubt in his 
 eyes. He stood silent and awkward for a while, brushing 
 np his pale hair behind and contorting his body into an 
 oblique straddle. 
 
 "Well/ he finally said to Pete Hawkins, "all I got to 
 do s to hitch up ag in V go back to the ranch. I hate it 
 like a dog." 
 
 "Queer doin s," was Pete s only answer "mighty 
 queer doin s." And he led Judy away to the stable for a 
 rubbing-down. 
 
 Pinky found the mistress of the ranch up and dressed 
 and waiting for him. She met him on the veranda with 
 a lamp in her hand. 
 
 " He ketched ye \" was her greeting. And then, with 
 a pucker of her hard, thin mouth, "I knowed he would." 
 
 " I couldn t help it," said Pinky, in a tone of exoneration. 
 
 " God A mighty couldn t V helped it," she declared, and 
 a look of relief came laxly into Pinky s face. "Don t I 
 know im ? If he sets out to do a thing, he ll do it if the 
 heavens fall." 
 
 " He come up jest as the train stopped. If he d been 
 two minutes later, I d a had im. Everything was goin 
 smoothly, when up he comes like the devil shot through 
 the solid groun , V wot could I do ? I couldn t knock 
 im over V drag er into the train." 
 
 She screwed her mouth still tighter. 
 
 "No. Had they started back when ye left ?" 
 
 "Back? I should say not I They tuck the train to 
 gether." 
 
311 
 
 Phoebe Ellen s mouth relaxed so abruptly that it seemed 
 as if her very teeth must be loosened. 
 
 " They tuck the train together ? Wot for ? Sam V 
 sis ? But where was they goin ?" 
 
 " He wouldn t say a word. I ast im, V he grinned 
 like he was swollerin vitriol, 11 looked dang rous. I ve 
 seen im like that afore. It allus means suthin suthin 
 t ye don t expeck. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen had led the way into the house, and was 
 sitting bolt upright in a chair. Now she drooped a little, 
 as if in meditation, and rested her chin in her hand. 
 
 " I kin think wot it means," she finally said. 
 
 "Well, wot?" 
 
 "Can t yaw?" 
 
 "I been muddlin my brains with it all the way over 
 from the station, n I can t even git a tail-hold o it. 
 Only, his idee seems to be to git er away from us. That s 
 plain." 
 
 " Yes. But they s plenty o ways o gittin er away 
 from us. He s tuck the shorest way." 
 
 " How d ye mean ?" 
 
 " He means to hide er somers like s not down south 
 there on that ranch o his. He s got friends in Lagunitas, 
 too ; he might leave er with them. They s dozens o ways 
 V places. But we mus be ready fer im, that s all. While 
 I been*waitin ere fer ye, I been thinkin ; in fact, I ve put 
 in the time hard. We ve got to do suthin , you n me ; 
 V I m ready fer anything. Say !" 
 
 There was something peculiar in her tone, and he gazed 
 at her with alert inquiry. 
 
 " Wot now ?" he asked. 
 
 She met his eyes unabashed. 
 
 " Ye still want to marry me ?" 
 
 "Don t I ?" Pinky s voice was eager. 
 
 She nodded several times with slow decision. 
 
 "I don t blame ye," she remarked. "It ud be a good 
 
312 
 
 thing fer ye, V I make no doubt ye keer fer me. "Well, 
 we ll go V be tied at daylight." 
 
 Pinky got upon his feet. 
 
 "D ye mean it ?" he cried. 
 
 "Set down set down V keep yer hair on. Ole man 
 Halstead s a regular ordained Methodis preacher used 
 to preach back in Indiany somers. He tole me so hisself. 
 \VV11 have irn do the job arter breakfas . He don t talk 
 much bout it, cause he s kind o out o the gospel biz- 
 ness, I reckon, V sech things don t recommend a feller 
 in Collyraydo, nohow. But it s all right. I ll answer 
 fer that." 
 
 "So 11 I," was Pinky s suffusive rejoinder. " But " 
 
 She understood his objection before he uttered it and 
 faced it boldly. 
 
 "Do I love Sam any more? Shucks! I hate im. 
 There ! Be ye satisfied ? N I need ye, Pinky, to help 
 rne fight im that s why I m in sech a hurry for the wed- 
 din . We ll see if a man kin run off with a idiot gal V 
 hide er away from er folks thout bein brought to time 
 fer it. If we can t fix im in one way we kin in nother. 
 N as a las resort, there s allus the law. Be ye willin to 
 stan up agin im, with me V the ranch to back ye ?" 
 
 "Willin ? Pinky s eagerness was too evident to re 
 quire a declarative sentence, and Phoebe Ellen accepted 
 it in its interrogative form. 
 
 " Well," was her way of concluding the arrangement, 
 " we kin git a couple o hours sleep yit afore breakfas , I 
 reckon, V we ll need it if Sam should take it into his 
 head to come back to-morrer. Ye kin have his room ye 
 know yer way. Good-night ! Be ready when I holler fer 
 ye in the mornin ." 
 
 After breakfast they set out without a word of explana 
 tion to any one, and on their return the mistress remarked 
 to Leatherhead : 
 
 "I ve ast Pinky to stay with us all day, n pears like 
 
313 
 
 he s inclined to be fav rable. In fact, I shouldn t wonder 
 if he d stay sev ral days. I ve made a proposition to im 
 to stay right along n board with us n let Pete Hawkins 
 look arter the station altogether. To make a long story 
 short, we ve gone n got married, n nat rally he ll stay 
 ere right along where his wife is. So ye kin lay a plate 
 fer im reg lar when I don t set the table myself." 
 
 And Leatherhead departed in silence, for once in his 
 life too completely surprised for utterance. 
 
 In the living-room they found the doctor. He had 
 seated himself at the east window, where the bright au 
 tumnal sunshine made a yellow square on the floor and 
 filled the room with a pleasant warmth. He was propped 
 up on pillows, and each of his eyes had a bright, interest 
 ed spot in it as he turned to examine the new-comers. 
 
 The point widened into a sphere as his glance met 
 Phoebe Ellen s. She knew what that meant she had seen 
 that strange luminous expansion there before. But it af 
 fected her differently now. She did not fear it, she did 
 not care for it; she wondered how she ever could have 
 stood in awe of it. She felt new, independent, careless of 
 supernatural pryings ; she stood outside the pale of praise 
 or blame. Her wedding had acted upon her as a process 
 of cutting loose from old fears ; it was the beginning of 
 complete emancipation from old limitations and domina 
 tions ; she felt herself expanding forcefully into infinite 
 spaces of egotism, supreme, vociferous. A spirit of utter 
 recklessness came over her a longing to assert herself at 
 any cost, to stand up in utter defiance, to face the adverse 
 powers of earth and heaven, and coerce them with the 
 authority of rampant irresponsibility. Let him read her 
 thoughts if he chose what could he do with the knowl 
 edge, after all ? She could have clutched the zenith and 
 torn it down about her ears and rejoiced at her own fall 
 into chaos. Besides, what assurance had she that he 
 could read her thoughts ? Perhaps it had been only a 
 
314 
 
 nervous fear on her part. She would see, let it cost what 
 it might. 
 
 Her eyes met his with a fierceness in which there was 
 no effort at concealment. "Look !" her haughty glance 
 said, "and I ll make it all plain and easy. Wot have I to 
 fear from the like o you ?" 
 
 Then, with her eyes still upon his, she formulated these 
 words distinctly in her thoughts : 
 
 " Pinky V I are married. Ole man Halstead done it a 
 hour ago." 
 
 " Ah !" said the doctor, as if she had spoken aloud. 
 
 " Wot be ye goin to do bout it ?" she added, mentally, 
 as before. 
 
 He understood her, for he answered with a half-laugh: 
 
 " Nothing. Nothing at all. But it is very interesting 
 you can t think how interesting to a man of my peculiar 
 prejudices. I knew Halstead was a regularly ordained 
 parson, only I somehow always thought of him as obso 
 lete in no way connected with a living issue like this." 
 
 Pinky, to whom the doctor appeared to be answering a 
 question which no one had asked, spoke up at this juncture. 
 
 "This is all-fired queer," he remarked from a distance. 
 
 "Shet up !" retorted his wife. " N don t fool aroun 
 with wot ye don t onderstan . This is my bizness, any 
 how. I want to see wot he kin do." 
 
 She turned on the doctor with the reckless abandon of 
 defiance. 
 
 " D ye want to read further ?" she demanded, shrilly. 
 
 "Give me half a chance and I ll show you," was his 
 answer. 
 
 She flung her head back with a gesture of triumphant 
 upgiving to her scorn. 
 
 " Eead, then !" she cried, not less shrilly, but in a tone 
 that hardened as its defiance became hysterical. "Eead, 
 n know it all, if ye like. I won t keep nothin back. 
 Wot do I keer ? Who d b lieve ye if ye told it all in a 
 
315 
 
 court o* jestice ? Ud Pinky b lieve ye if ye was to tell 
 im now ?" 
 
 " Husbands are proverbially obtuse where their wives 
 defects are concerned/ answered the doctor, with his half- 
 sneer. 
 
 She stiffened herself more inflexibly by clasping her 
 hands back to back behind her. Then she thought out 
 her words slowly and deliberately, not for utterance, but 
 for the gratification of that mad spirit of defiance which 
 had completely taken possession of her. 
 
 "I ain t the owner of this ranch." She felt his eyes 
 perusing the words in her brain before she really thought 
 them out. " It b longs to my sister. I m Phoebe Ellen 
 she s Anny. She was hurt in the lan slide, n I seen I 
 could take er place, so I done it. I ain t sorry. The 
 place b longs to me s much s wot it does to her, only 
 Dan was partial. I mean to keep wot I ve got, too. D 
 ye reckon ye kin git it from me by tellin ?" 
 
 " Thanks," said the doctor, with his ghastly, sarcastic 
 smile. " I read every word of it you made it very 
 plain. Get the ranch from you by telling? Will you 
 blame me that ajready I ve thought of it ? I have a queer 
 mind in some ways ; it often leaps to conclusions." 
 
 " Pinky, go out in the kitchen n stay with Leather- 
 head ten minutes. I ll be through by then," commanded 
 the bride. 
 
 Obedient to the demands of his new marital role, Pinky 
 shuffled out of the room. 
 
 "He don t know," said Phoebe Ellen, jerking her head 
 towards the closed door. "He never will." 
 
 " "Won t he ?" inquired the doctor, in a voice that 
 sounded exclamatory through the question. 
 
 She moved closer to him, her face stiffening into lines 
 of vindictive triumph. 
 
 " Take it to court, if that s wot ye mean ; I defy ye. 
 Who d b lieve a crazy consumptive like you, anyhow ? 
 
316 
 
 Hovv d ye git to court tell me that ? Ye d die afore ye 
 could git to the station. N I could bring witnesses t 
 ye ve allus acted crazy. Take it to court ! How kin ye 
 harm me ? Bah ! I snap my fingers at ye I" 
 
 The doctor eyed her curiously. 
 
 " You ve evidently thought it all out," he remarked. 
 
 "I have. N ain t I right? Ud any court o jestice 
 in the Ian take yer word fer sech a thing ?" 
 
 "No/ he admitted. 
 
 "Well, then !" crowed Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 The doctor left her a full moment s enjoyment of her 
 triumph before he said a word. 
 
 "You ve considered the matter from all sides, I sup 
 pose." His tone was curious, and his idea, being merely 
 a repetition of what he had said a moment before, arrested 
 her attention as if he had discovered a flaw in her logic. 
 But she snapped her fingers once more and tossed her 
 head. 
 
 "From all sides," she asserted, with confidence. "I 
 know where I stan !" 
 
 " Sometimes I ve almost thought, as I have studied 
 your character during the past few months, that you might 
 be capable, under the stress of strong feeling, of overlook 
 ing the essentials of a situation and fastening upon the 
 irrelevant details." He watched her with that enigmatic 
 smile of his, half sarcastic and half serious. 
 
 He saw her nostrils dilate as if she were catching her 
 breath, but there was no other hint that he had touched 
 her. 
 
 " Hasn t it sometimes occurred to yourself, now, that 
 you might miscalculate in such a case ? I merely throw 
 it out as a suggestion, you know ; but mightn t you have 
 considered the matter from all sides but one one little 
 corner of a side, so to speak ? The wisest people some 
 times overlook the very thing they are searching for." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen grew pale. This was the very mistake she 
 
317 
 
 had all along felt capable of making, and against which 
 she thought she had especially guarded. 
 
 " Shucks \" she scoffed, but there was an incipient 
 tremor in her voice. " Ye can t skeer me!" 
 
 " Oh, well, I ll say nothing further about it, then. I 
 merely suggested the possibility. Xow, it has occurred 
 to me " 
 
 " Yes ?" she demanded, as his voice trailed away in 
 well-simulated meditation. 
 
 He did not notice her at once, but finally he roused 
 himself and went on : 
 
 "As I was saying, it has occurred to me that I might 
 easily send back to Nebraska for the proper identification 
 of yourself and your sister " 
 
 " Good Lord !" gasped Phcebe Ellen, sinking into a 
 chair. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 "You see ?" smiled the doctor. "The simplest thing 
 in the world. And the court wouldn t have to take the 
 word of a crazy consumptive, either/ 
 
 "Tin a fool !" muttered Phoebe Ellen, hoarsely. 
 
 "It s a case where vaulting ambition overleaped itself 
 and fell on the other side, that is all. Don t feel badly 
 about it. Wiser people have done the same thing, as I 
 think I remarked before. Sam will be glad to know of it. 
 Fve no doubt he ll take action immediately. He is some 
 what exasperated already, you know ; and this will set 
 him quite off." 
 
 "Fm a fool !" repeated Phoebe Ellen. She looked hard 
 at her tormentor, who returned her gaze with the sarcasm 
 of complete composure. " Fm allus seein nothin but the 
 mood I happen to be in. Fm allus scratchin my face jest 
 at the minute I want to look purty." 
 
 " You ve certainly done it this time," was the doctor s 
 only consolation. 
 
 She seemed on the point of whimpering, then suddenly 
 changed her mind. 
 
 "Why couldn t ye V died afore las night ?" she cried 
 out. 
 
 " Providence," smiled the doctor. " I begin to believe 
 there really is such a thing. Yes, I am quite certain it was 
 Providence. I have been reserved for a great moral work 
 in my last days in my last hoars, if you like that better." 
 
 "I do," she interrupted, shrilly. 
 
 "Suit yourself suit yourself," he said. "I shall be 
 willing to die after I get this affair straightened out." 
 
319 
 
 <( Not afore ?" she hinted,, viciously. 
 
 "Oh, I shall not go before, I assure you," he smiled > 
 "that is, unless you ve got some poison around. Have 
 you ? I shouldn t wonder !" 
 
 She started guiltily as she remembered the dried loco- 
 weed in her valise she had not thought of it for weeks ; 
 and if the doctor s eyes had been upon her at that moment 
 he would have found no difficulty in reading the truth. 
 But as chance would have it, he was gazing absently at 
 his slippered toes, and it was evident that the question 
 was only one of those sarcasms to which he attached no 
 importance beyond the utterance. She could see that he 
 was in reality thinking of something else. 
 
 " Bah !" she said, in the shrill, bullying tone with which 
 he was familiar. "Go on insultin me that s right, go 
 straight ahead. If ye was a man " 
 
 He looked up with a sarcastic, ventral laugh. 
 
 " There is compensation in all things, as Emerson long 
 ago taught us Bostonians. He was a great man, that Em 
 erson. My father knew him personally. Would it inter 
 est you if I were to reminisce a little ?" He examined 
 his victim with a smile which had a delicate gloating in 
 it. "No ? I see by your look that you are not interest 
 ed in Emerson. Well, not to speak further of your 
 folly in revealing your secret it was folly, rank folly, 
 even my natural charity is obliged to declare but leaving 
 all that out of account for the present, suppose we take a 
 moment or two to regard the matter objectively, as it 
 were. It may help us out." 
 
 "Us?" 
 
 "You, I mean. Ah ! It is lovely to be exact. There 
 was Dusenbury, my mathematics teacher at Harvard, one 
 of the most accurate of men. You should have seen 
 him ! One day Hackett, my chum I could tell you 
 more stories about Hackett than you could shake a stick 
 at, as the saying is well, one day Hackett " 
 
320 
 
 Phoebe Ellen tapped her foot impatiently. 
 
 " Ye wanted to talk things over ?" she reminded him. 
 
 He grinned. 
 
 " Oh yes, objectively. To be sure. I forgot. Ob 
 jectively means in a sensible manner. Fm inclined to 
 wander a little, you see. Probably it s a part of my dis 
 easeor a result. Yes, by all means let us regard the 
 matter objectively. To begin with, you ve got yourself 
 into a boat. That is very evident. You agree ?" 
 
 She made no attempt at denial. 
 
 "Well ?" she questioned. 
 
 "You re in a boat," continued the doctor. "That s 
 sure. Now, naturally the question suggests itself to you, 
 How shall I get out ? You say to yourself, not without 
 agitation, as I can perceive, How shall I reach solid land 
 again ? Am I right in this also ?" 
 
 "Well ?" repeated Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 Suddenly the doctor tittered. 
 
 "Have you ever heard of Mrs. Micawber ?" he asked. 
 
 "No sech person where I ve ever lived." 
 
 His titter died in one of those ventral laughs which 
 Phoebe Ellen detested. 
 
 "My method of reasoning reminded me irresistibly of 
 her," he said, and then paused. 
 
 "Was that wot ye started to say?" demanded Phoebe 
 Ellen. 
 
 "Pardon me. I was wandering again. You are right 
 you do well to call me back." Suddenly he opened his 
 eyes full upon hers. "I can see a way out of your diffi 
 culty," he said. 
 
 " D ye feel like dyin ? That s the only way !" 
 
 " There is another way," he replied, smilelessly now. 
 
 " Fer me 9" She was leaning forward eagerly. 
 
 "For you." 
 
 " Not fer her 9" she insisted. 
 
 " That may or may not be." 
 
321 
 
 "Ye be jokin . Wot good kin it do me if it leaves a 
 chance fer her ?" 
 
 " At least I can see a chance for you ; and that is the 
 principal thing for you to consider." 
 
 "Yes," she admitted, after a tremulous moment; 
 " that s the principal thing." 
 
 "You will understand, of course, that I am not help 
 ing you out on account of any love or admiration I bear 
 you." 
 
 " < Oh, I onderstan that ! W I d objeck to bein helped 
 under them cornditions." 
 
 " Good ! I have my own ends to serve that is the 
 long and short of it. They may be good, they may be 
 bad, they may be a mixture of good and bad ; that is not 
 your affair. But such as they are, I purpose to attain 
 them before I die. If you attain your safety at the same 
 time, well and good. I wash my hands of that responsi 
 bility." 
 
 " I can t make ye out," said Phoebe Ellen at this point. 
 
 " You won t altogether, even when I ve finished. But 
 I ll explain all that s necessary. You remember the op 
 eration that you wouldn t consent to ?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " That is the mainspring of the whole situation. Have 
 you no imagination ? Can t yon see the rest ? I ve set 
 my heart on that operation, and I simply won t die till it 
 is accomplished." He set his mouth in a ghastly grim- 
 ness that had the hardness of stone. "Call it a mania, 
 a sick man s freak, a thirst for human blood what you 
 will. Ah, to feel the scalpel in my fingers once more, 
 and the warm resistance of human flesh under it !" His 
 eyes shone, there was a tingling eagerness in the tremor 
 of his hands. "No matter : you don t understand. Be 
 sides, I d like the last effort of my life to be for good so 
 many of its early efforts were in the opposite direction ! 
 "Well, have I said enough ? One word more." His teeth 
 
322 
 
 came together, and his bloodless lips parted around them 
 in a grin which had the tenacious purpose of death in it. 
 "Til stay in this world and Til keep your secret at my 
 disposal till that operation is performed. You may as 
 well make up your mind to that." 
 
 She looked sick and frightened,, but she managed to 
 articulate : 
 
 " W arter the operation ?" 
 
 "After that affairs will be in your own hands." 
 
 I might a kep em there thout any say-so o your n 
 if I hadn t turned fool n defied ye. I could V shet ye 
 out o my mind like Fd done a dozen times afore." 
 
 True," he smiled back at her, with a renewed tighten 
 ing of his lips against his teeth. " But the point you 
 have to consider is, how to make the best of your own 
 folly. It isn t an uncommon alternative. Eegret, you 
 may be sure, makes nothing either way." 
 
 She braced herself erect in her chair. 
 
 " Ye wanted me to cornsent to the operation ?" she de 
 manded. 
 
 " Precisely my idea !" 
 
 "She ain t ere to be operated on. She s with Sam. 
 How 11 ye git er back ?" 
 
 "I ll look out for that." 
 
 " N if I won t cornsent ?" 
 
 "I shall tell Sam the whole truth as soon as ever he re 
 turns." 
 
 " N if I do ?" 
 
 "I promise never to speak of the matter which you so 
 inadvertently revealed to me." 
 
 She fixed a big, rigid wrinkle between her eyes in med 
 itation. 
 
 "I reckon ye feel like they was a purty good chance o 
 curin er," she finally said, in a tentative voice. 
 
 " There is certainly a chance." 
 
 " A purty good un ?" 
 
323 
 
 te At least not a bad one." 
 
 " Ye ll do yer best fer er ?" 
 
 " On everybody s account yes." 
 
 " Everybody s !" she objected, bitterly. 
 
 " Except yours." He made his amendment gravely. 
 
 " N if ye cure er " 
 
 "She will attend to the matter of her inheritance her 
 self." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen sank back with a groan. 
 
 "That ud leave me jes where I be," she complained, 
 more bitterly than before. 
 
 "Exactly," was the doctor s only answer. 
 
 " Then wot s the use o me cornsentin in the fust 
 place ?" 
 
 " Haven t you grasped the point yet ? Because, as mat 
 ters stand, your case is altogether hopeless. I shall tell 
 Sam the whole business as soon as he comes back, or as 
 soon thereafter as I may see fit. You understand what 
 the outcome of that will be." 
 
 " He wouldn t give me the ghost o 7 a show." 
 
 The doctor nodded with cheerful assent. 
 
 "Whereas, if you permit the operation to take place, 
 there is a chance that your sister will die. In that case, 
 no one will ever know the truth, and your secret will be 
 buried with me in my grave." 
 
 "If ye hide the truth, ye ll be s deep in the mud s I 
 am in the mire," sniffed Phosbe Ellen, wheeling to a vin 
 dication of herself in his complicity. 
 
 The doctor seemed not disinclined to take up that side 
 of the question. 
 
 "Oh, I never pretended to be good," he said. "I 
 made friends with the devil when I was young, and have 
 never had the slightest desire to break off the acquaint 
 ance. He s really a very pleasant chap not half so 
 black as he s painted. My only difficulty has been that, 
 of late years, on account of my poor health, Fve been un- 
 
324 
 
 able to meet the old fellow on his own terms. One has 
 to have an iron constitution really to get into the merits 
 of the devil s companionship." 
 
 " Like s not t was yer friendship fer im t broke down 
 yer health,," said Phoebe Ellen, still in a moral tone., 
 
 "Not a doubt of it," was the answer, delivered with 
 ghastly cheerfulness. "Not a doubt. And if I had my life 
 to live over again, and knew all the consequences, I de 
 clare seriously I should in no way do differently. I have 
 lived as far as I had a chance that might be put upon 
 my tombstone, and it would indicate the truth. But to 
 the affair in hand. What do you say ? Have you made 
 up your mind ?" 
 
 "I don t see s ye re grantin much to me, nohow. If 
 she don t git well, she can t manage the proputty, V things 
 ud have to stan jes like they be. If she dies, I ll be heir 
 in spite o everything." 
 
 " This is all on the supposition that the operation takes 
 place." 
 
 " N if she gits her mind back, the hull thing comes 
 out." 
 
 "Exactly. No one can help that." 
 
 " The only gain to me is, t if she don t git well, or if 
 she dies, nobody 11 know how I ve been monkeyin 7 with 
 the law." 
 
 " You have it to a dot." 
 
 " Pears like ye might do better by me/ she began, in a 
 wheedling voice. 
 
 " As for instance ?" 
 
 " Let the operation go !" 
 
 " And keep my mouth shut ? You are modest !" 
 
 "If ye should kill er, I could have ye rested!" she 
 threatened. 
 
 The doctor laughed with faint enjoyment of her per 
 plexities. 
 
 " The operation is essential/ was his only comment. 
 
325 
 
 She looked at him a long moment, as if to assure her 
 self of the fixedness of his purpose, then flung out her 
 hands with a gesture of desperation. 
 
 " Oh, ye ve got me I" she breathed. " Wot kin I do 
 but cornsent ? Yes, I cornsent. Do the operation when 
 ye like. Wot a fool I was wot a snortin , howlin fool !" 
 
 "Thanks," said the doctor, with ambiguous politeness. 
 " Sam will probably be back some time to-day, and I ll 
 talk the operation over with him. Rely entirely on my 
 discretion in the other matter. I have promised to keep 
 silence, and I shall have the fact constantly in mind. 
 Though the devil and I are friends, he has always found 
 me a man of my word, and so will you. Would you mind 
 leaving me to myself for an hour ? My rest was disturbed 
 last night, you know, and I think I could sleep a bit. 
 Thanks. I really begin to feel the strain of events. Au 
 revoir !" 
 
 And the doctor found himself alone. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 SAM came home a little after dinner, and, to the sur 
 prise of every one, he brought Anny with him. 
 
 " We had dinner with Pete Hawkins," he said, in an 
 swer to Leatherhead s inquiry. "He s got Judy in fine 
 shape, cornsiderin . Fm goin to leave er with im a few 
 days till she reety gits on er feet agin. He lent us his 
 horses 11 cracky to come over with, n said to tell Pinky 
 everything was all right to the depot. The little mi s 
 stood up to these ere doin s like a soger in the reg lar 
 army. Ain t she lookin fine ? Where s the missus ?" 
 
 " The missus ?" repeated Leatherhead, his eyes expand 
 ing and rolling. " The missus ? Why, she seen ye comin , 
 n flew up-stairs like a cat in a fit, she did. Say, is it so 
 t she was tryin to git the little un out o the kentry? 
 I d like to know." 
 
 "It s so," was Sam s answer. 
 
 " Oh, tripe !" was Leatherhead s comment. Then, with 
 a new access of excitement: "Say, suthin & happened 
 sence ye was gone. Guess wot !" 
 
 Sam shook his head. 
 
 "Oh, guess!" pleaded Leatherhead. Then, with a gush: 
 " Ye never could guess, I know." 
 
 But Sam still shook his head. 
 
 " She s married !" cried Leatherhead, brief for once in 
 his life. 
 
 "She? Who?" 
 
 Leatherhead nodded and gulped. 
 
 " The missus, o course, V Pinky. He s out there in 
 the kitchen now. Fust he goes to the winder V looks 
 
327 
 
 out ; then lie comes back V stares at the sink V grins, 
 V shakes is head like it was clean empty. I left im 
 gazin at the wood-box V rollin "is eyes like a dyin duck 
 in a thunder-storm." 
 
 A slow smile dawned on Sam s features. 
 
 "Wot a purty idee !" was all he said as he led Anny 
 away. 
 
 " Ye kin go to my room," he said, as he parted from 
 her. " Ye won t mind my leavin ye a little while to 
 speak to the doctor ?" 
 
 " No/ was the answer ; " I ain t afeerd." 
 
 And they separated without further words. 
 
 Sam found the doctor propped up in his chair, hugging 
 the square of noonday sunshine which struggled through 
 the window. The strange man looked up with grave ex 
 pectancy. He was more calm than usual, more steady, 
 more forgetful of himself ; his heels kept their place on 
 the floor without effort, and there was little or no strain 
 in the attitude of his hands upon the arms of his chair. 
 
 The two men faced each other, their eyes meeting in a 
 long gaze. Sam had intended to speak and explain, but 
 there was no need with that steady gaze overmastering 
 his, feeling around the edges of his thoughts as if they 
 were material things and could be identified by touch. 
 
 "Ah!" murmured the doctor, finally removing his 
 gaze. 
 
 " Ye ve got it all ?" asked Sam, with a doubtful smile. 
 
 " Yes. It was unnecessary, though. But Fm glad of 
 it." 
 
 "Unne sary?" 
 
 " I ve brought the missus to terms myself." 
 
 " You ?" 
 
 "I !" 
 
 " N how M ye do it?" 
 
 " No matter. I promised not to tell. But she has con 
 sented to the operation." 
 
" Well, I ll be darned!" 
 
 The doctor nodded slowly. 
 
 " At any time I see fit to mention/ he added. 
 
 "Well, we ve got er now, fer shore," remarked Sam, 
 fetching a long breath. " You wunst V me wunst. She 
 can t git loose from both o us." 
 
 "Your wife wishes it as much as ever ?" 
 
 "More n ever." 
 
 "And when will she be ready ?" 
 
 "To-morrer !" 
 
 The doctor smiled. 
 
 "Good! But I doubt that. She must diet two or 
 three days in order to get her system into proper shape. 
 She seems well ?" 
 
 " Sound as a drum !" 
 
 " But you are to see to it that she eats no meat, no 
 pastry of any sort, and drinks no tea nor coffee. She is 
 in a quiet frame of mind ?" 
 
 " Cool s a cowcumber !" 
 
 "Keep her so. Possibly the operation may take place 
 day after to-morrow certainly not before. Bring her 
 down after a while and let me see her myself. I want a 
 good look at her." 
 
 " Well," said Sam. " W ye feel ekal to it yerself ?" 
 
 "I haven t been so strong for months. And with the 
 knife in my hand I can feel it now ! One thing comes 
 over me strangely, though. Shall I tell you ? It means no 
 harm, not even to myself, but it s a queer thing a new 
 outcropping of my fate, so to speak. Have you ever felt 
 that you were the victim of an idea, that you had an in 
 visible antagonist somewhere who seized you at the mo 
 ment of your triumph and put your head under his heel 
 as if to prove that you were subject to his law ?" 
 
 "Never thort o sech a thing in all my life !" 
 
 "It is a horrible conception of one s relations with the 
 universe, but it has come over me frequently. Time and 
 
329 
 
 again in my life I have made an effort about something 
 a mighty effort only to find at the last moment that all 
 my struggling was useless. Just on the point of victory I 
 have failed utterly, or if I succeeded it was altogether by 
 accident and never by the means by which I had chosen 
 to prepare myself for success. It was so with my medical 
 studies I was on the point of winning the highest honors, 
 when my health broke down. You see how it has been 
 with this operation ; I have worked for it as I never 
 worked for the kingdom of heaven as I never could work 
 for the kingdom of heaven and at the last moment my 
 trouble is made unnecessary by the power your marriage 
 with the little un gives you over the situation. You see 
 how I mean ? It is as if the evil genius of my life said, 
 Struggle on your own account if you like, but you are in 
 my power. If you succeed at all, it is by the efforts of 
 others, and never by your own. I have a queer feeling 
 about this operation, too. It will be successful I know 
 it as by second-sight. But something I cannot now see 
 what will happen to take the knowledge of success away 
 from me. Perhaps Til die before she recovers you know 
 it may take her some time. I have a feeling that I will 
 go into the next world without the assurance of having 
 accomplished anything in this; that would suit my evil 
 genius too well. Do you follow me ?" 
 
 Later in the afternoon, when Sam went to his room to 
 inquire how the little un was passing the time, he found 
 Phoebe Ellen already established there. She rose to meet 
 him, startled but defiant, while a quick flush appeared in 
 her thin, hard cheeks, and an angry gleam came at him 
 like a visible prod from her eyes. 
 
 " I waVt a-lookin fer you" she began, with a warlike 
 toss of her head. "I come to see my sister/ 
 
 " I come to see my wife/ was Sam s retort. He seated 
 himself at the foot of the bed where Anny was lying, and 
 crossed his huge legs comfortably. 
 
330 
 
 An electric shock seemed to pass through Phoebe Ellen. 
 
 " Yer wife ?" she screeched. 
 
 " Ain t nobody told ye?" he inquired, with compos 
 ure. Then I reckon the Doc ain t opened his head yit. 
 He s the only one t knows. " 
 
 " Married I" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen s voice grew muffled, but somehow lost 
 none of its shrillness. 
 
 " We be," was the cool response. " We got to Laguni- 
 tas at daylight, took breakfas , hunted a squire at eight 
 o clock, had the bizness done in apple-pie order, n started 
 back at half-past." 
 
 She burst into a dry, whinnying laugh. 
 
 " Oh, she s got some un to look arter er now !" she 
 choked. " She s got some un to look arter er now, fer 
 shore !" 
 
 "She has," assented Sam. <"W the fact 11 be made 
 plainer to ye as they s need o it. I m glad ye come in 
 this arternoon. It s time you n me was gittin at a on- 
 derstandin , arter wot happened las night. Sech doin s 
 can t go 011 where my wife s cornsarned o course ye on- 
 derstan that ?" 
 
 "I onderstan that, ye may be shore," retorted Phoebe 
 Ellen, with spirit. ( N I onderstan more n that, too. 
 I onderstan t I own this ere ranch, V t I inten to run it. 
 W if outsiders makes up their minds they re goin to stay 
 ere n live off m me s long s they see fit to do nothin , all 
 I got to say is they ll git slipped up. That s wot / on 
 derstan . So ye kin jes nachelly take yer wife V shin 
 out with er s quick s th Lord 11 let ye. N the sooner 
 the quicker so there !" 
 
 The same masterful look which she had first seen at the 
 station came into Sam s face at this moment, though he 
 grinned. 
 
 " We thort o stayin till arter the operation," he re 
 marked. 
 

 331 
 
 " Oh, ye did, did ye? Ye lowed ye d stay till arter the 
 operation ! Well, who invited ye ?" 
 
 " We invited ourselves, V ere we stay till we git ready 
 to go, though ye turn black in the face with orderin us 
 out. N if you turn too rusty, I ll kidnap ye n Pinky 
 both, V tote ye down to Lagunitas to have a interview 
 with a lawyer I know down there. Ud that please ye ?" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen sniffed, but she knew by certain unmis 
 takable signs that Sam was quite capable of carrying out 
 his threat. 
 
 "I tole the Doc ye could stay till arter the operation," 
 she said, in a milder tone. " I never d low it from your 
 say-so, though," she flashed out again. " N arter the 
 operation s over ?" 
 
 " We ll stay till my wife is perfeckly well V able to trav 
 el," said Sam. " N we ll have the best the house affords, or 
 they ll be scenery on the Thompson ranch ! The ranch 
 is your n I own up to it. But arter las night, we have 
 some claims, my wife n me, n we mean to work em fer 
 all they re wuth. Was she botherin ye afore I come in?" 
 he asked, in an altered tone, turning to Anny. 
 
 "No," was the quiet answer. "She jes come in a 
 minute afore wot you did. She said she was glad to see 
 me." 
 
 "How purty o her !" said Sam, turning to his visitor. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen bridled. 
 
 " I reckon I got a right to be glad, arter she s been run 
 off with by a runnygate V nobody could tell whether I d 
 ever see er agin, V her not knowin how to take keer o 
 herself. I d know who s got a better right less it s 
 my sister erself !" 
 
 " Yer sister d better be a cat in hell thout claws n to 
 live in the same house with you thout some un to look 
 arter er," remarked Sam. 
 
 "Oh, she s got some un to look arter er now," repeated 
 Phoebe Ellen, viciously, for the third time. 
 
332 
 
 "My only shame is/ said Sam, " t I feel like I d took 
 a advantage, her not bein erself. Fm fair nough to see 
 t there s where ye ve got a p int agin me. But this I 
 say : she ain t my wife cept in name till arter the opera 
 tion s over V she s got er own mind back, V kin make 
 er own ch ice. Till then she s my sister, only I have a 
 husban s right to watch over er V see t she gits fair 
 treatment. Arter that she kin git shet o me if er mind 
 comes back 11 she feels like I d been imposin on er. It 11 
 be a easy thing." 
 
 " IS if er mind don t come back ?" 
 
 " Then I ll take er away as my sister, V I ll look arter 
 er as sech the rest o my life. Be shore I won t leave er 
 to you." 
 
 "That s a relief," snorted Phoebe Ellen. "Ye kin 
 make shore / // never make a fight fer the priv lege o 
 lookin arter yer wives." 
 
 Sam took no notice of this retort, but reverted to the 
 theme uppermost in his thoughts. 
 
 " The Doc says t all the rangements fer the operation 
 s been pervided fer atween you V him. He didn t tell 
 how he managed it, but that s all right." 
 
 "Yes, it s all ranged." 
 
 "I wouldn t V married the little tin jes yit it s only 
 right to say so if I d a knowed he could a got yer corn- 
 sent like this ere. I d a waited till arterward, when she 
 could V had a fairer show fer a husban . But I ain t 
 sorry. I can look arter things with a heap more sperrit 
 V carefulness n wot I could if I didn t have a husban s 
 rights." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen tossed her head. 
 
 "Oh, a husban s rights !" she snapped. "Very purty 
 very fine ! But they s others besides you round this 
 ranch t s got husban s rights sence ye left ere las night 
 at midnight !" 
 
 " Pore Pinky !" murmured Sam. 
 
333 
 
 " Pore Pinky ?" flashed Phoebe Ellen. " I like that \" 
 
 Sam s face relaxed into a broad grin. 
 
 "Leatherhead tole me bout it," he said. " Pore Pinky ! 
 I hope he won t live long, V t he ll be happy if he kin !" 
 
 And with that their interview ended. But Phoebe El 
 len did not fully realize what Sam s marriage meant until 
 that night she stumbled upon his huge body stretched in 
 a blanket before Army s door. He was guarding his wife 
 against a second kidnapping. And the mistress of the 
 ranch passed on with rage in her heart. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 Two days later, at eleven o clock in the morning, Sam 
 might have been seen in the doctor s room, lending such 
 assistance as he could in the preparation of a table at the 
 head of the bed. 
 
 " The light will be perfect in about an hour," said the 
 man of science. "I ve been watching it ever since I 
 came, and I know just how it lies in the room at every 
 hour of the day. The two windows are precisely what we 
 want. Do I look excited ?" 
 
 "No," answered Sam, after a deliberate examination 
 of the sick man s features. 
 
 "You do," declared the doctor. 
 
 Ye don t expeck me to go aroun singin like a Texas 
 mockin -bird," reproved Sam, "when my wife s on the 
 p int o havin er head cut open ?" 
 
 " No. But you know how I look when I m fluttered ? 
 You ve seen me ?" 
 
 "Plenty o times." 
 
 "Feel my pulse." 
 
 Sam laid his fingers on the doctor s skinny wrist. 
 
 " Stiddy s a clock," he announced, after a moment. 
 
 " The same thing can t be said of you, I warrant ! I m 
 not tremulous I don t appear weak ?" 
 
 "Ye re like another man. I feel like I hadn t never 
 reely seen ye afore." 
 
 The doctor laughed softly. 
 
 " You know how I brought it to pass ?" 
 
 " Brandy," answered Sam. 
 
 "Eight you are brandy respectfully approached and 
 
335 
 
 appealed to with a rational regard for its intelligent help 
 fulness. There isn t one man in ten thousand that un 
 derstands the real nature and significance of strong drink 
 its essential benignity, the true kindness of its heart, so 
 to speak, its purpose and place in the creative plan. But 
 brandy and I understand each other. Our relations have 
 been prolonged and peculiar ; we are good friends. It 
 has never gone back on me in all my life when I have ap 
 proached it in the spirit of reverent appeal. There s 
 something besides brandy, though, that has strengthened 
 me to-day." 
 
 " Ye feel like this ere operation was goin to be the 
 bigges thing ye ve ever done, I reckon/ said Sam, who 
 had heard the doctor say as much. 
 
 " The biggest thing. The climax. The ne phis ultra. 
 My raison d etre. Do you understand ?" 
 
 The doctor seated himself in the arm-chair facing the 
 table. His instruments were spread orderly before him 
 upon a white cotton cloth ; at the back of the table stood 
 several bottles with such significant labels as chloroform, 
 ammonia, morphia, brandy. A row of half a dozen scal 
 pels rough -hafted, so that the hand of the operator 
 would not be likely to slip, in spite of blood caught the 
 sunshine along their edges in keen flashes. There were 
 bistouries, too, closed in their handles like pocket-knives 
 or only partly open, as if their owner intended them not 
 for use but for company to the others. Needles, saws, 
 probes, directors, forceps, and other ghastly implements 
 of the profession were scattered about for the doctor s 
 gloating contemplation possibly for the gratification of 
 a desire for completeness and detail which he was known 
 to possess in professional matters. The sunshine flashing 
 from them back to the ceiling made a tremulous glimmer 
 up there as if reflected from unquiet water. Sam s razor, 
 newly sharpened, had an important look among the other 
 instruments, opened from its haft at an angle. Besides 
 
330 
 
 these things there were bandages, sponges, a basin of 
 water, and several towels. 
 
 "It makes me feel young again," said the doctor, sud 
 denly removing his eyes from the instruments to Sam s 
 face. " It makes the blood flow, the pulse beat, the mus 
 cles stiffen ! It gives me the spring, the poise, the zest of 
 other days. And you, Sam why, you look old and anx 
 ious ; you actually do ! Are you frightened ? Look at 
 you ! You are as nervous as I ordinarily am you can 
 neither stand still nor sit down. If the sight of blood 
 makes you faint " 
 
 " It don t/ was the positive answer. " I never felt 
 faint in all my life." 
 
 "You never saw the blood of your sweetheart your 
 wife/ suggested the doctor. 
 
 " Oh, don t worry bout me. I ll be all right," Sam de 
 clared. Then, to change the subject : " I reckon ye ain t 
 fergot nothin ? It ud be awk ard to have to go V hunt 
 fer anything arter ye got fairly under way." 
 
 " Forget ? No. I haven t had anything for weeks to 
 think of but this hour I ve planned for it, hoped for it, 
 lived for it I ve arranged that table a hundred times in 
 my thoughts the scalpels here, the bottles there, every 
 thing just as you see it. I ve dreamed of it at night felt 
 the tightened skin under my fingers, seen the first drop 
 of blood follow the knife, cut lengthwise of the muscles 
 where I could and awakened to live it all over again in 
 the dark, but rearranging everything by an inward light 
 of my own. Forget anything ? No, no !" 
 
 He pushed a saw aside, and it came in contact with an 
 other of its kind with a soft clash. 
 
 "Of course, I sha n t use all these things you under 
 stand that. But I wanted them in sight as a sort of in 
 spiration. Oh, I sha n t try to make the operation hard 
 I sha n t keep on cutting after I ve finished, just for the 
 joy of cutting. I have distinctly in mind what I must do, 
 
337 
 
 and I shaVt try any flourishes. Desault says that the 
 simplicity of an operation is the measure of its perfection, 
 and mine will be quite perfect quite perfect. Is is 
 Mrs. Tinker as quiet in her mind as she was two hours 
 ago ? 
 
 It was the first time any one had called Anny by that 
 name, and Sam noticed, though he was too full of other 
 thoughts to speak of it. 
 
 " Jes s quiet," he answered. 
 
 "And you haven t told her the hour ?" 
 
 " Not a word. Ye said twouldn t be best till jes afore 
 she was led in." 
 
 "You d make an excellent surgeon s assistant, Sam 
 though possibly a better soldier. She keeps up wonder 
 fully. If she were in her right mind she d be a hundred 
 times as nervous Lord ! you ought to see some of them 
 in the hospitals. Are you afraid I ll fail at the last mo 
 ment, Sam ? Tell me the truth are you afraid I ll fail?" 
 
 Sam looked him over from head to foot. 
 
 "No," he answered, deliberately. 
 
 " Good ! You have grounds for your confidence. I shall 
 succeed but but there s something beyond that I can t 
 make out. Queer, isn t it, how everything in my life, 
 even my gift of mind-reading, has amounted to nothing ? 
 I used to despise it as something beneath my profession 
 a trait that would stamp me as a charlatan. Well, it s 
 a fatality. You see how it turned out here when I tried 
 to use it for your good or no, you don t know. But it 
 was by that means I brought the missus to give her con 
 sent to this business no, I sha n t tell you further, for I 
 gave her my word. But you neutralized my efforts by 
 marrying the girl it s the way everything goes." He 
 took out his watch, looked at it, and restored it to his 
 pocket. " Fifteen minutes yet." There was a flush on 
 his face that made his cheeks look fuller and younger. 
 "Jove ! This is glorious." He began to pace slowly up 
 
 22 
 
338 
 
 and down, his feet meeting the floor in a firm, steady 
 tramp. "Why isn t it something more difficult?" He 
 poured out some brandy into a glass, regulating the 
 quantity by a scale on the side. " I tell you, I could cut 
 a human heart in this mood, and restore it in perfect 
 condition !" 
 
 Sam shuddered. He had never before witnessed an 
 outburst of such professional fury. 
 
 " Ye ll make it go," he said, thinking of the outcome 
 of the operation. 
 
 The doctor fetched a breath as from the bottom of his 
 lungs. 
 
 "I haven t breathed like that before for four years," 
 he declared. His eyes burned into Sam s. "Oh! It 
 couldn t be that I am to get well again ?" Then, as the 
 absurdity of his question dawned upon him, he fetched 
 another breath deeper than the first and laughed. "At 
 least, I know what it is to feel well once more before I 
 die !" 
 
 He shifted one or two of his instruments into more 
 symmetrical order on the table, and their glittering re 
 flections followed the changed position on the ceiling. 
 
 "The light is perfect," he declared. " These windows 
 couldn t be better if they had been made on purpose." 
 He glanced at his watch, smiled, and nodded at Sam. 
 "You may bring her in. It is time." There was some 
 thing beautiful, dignified, and noble in his aspect. Sam 
 was almost awed. 
 
 The doctor stopped him with his hand on the door. 
 
 " See that her clothing is loose about her throat and 
 waist," he said. "And don t look frightened, even if 
 you feel so." 
 
 In a few moments Anny came in, followed by Sam. 
 She was a little pale, but there were no signs of undue 
 excitement in her eyes. Her hair was loosened, and hung 
 in pretty shining masses all about her neck and shoulders. 
 
339 
 
 As her eyes met the doctor s she smiled. 
 
 "No, I ain t skeert," she said, as if in answer to a ques 
 tion. " Why should I be ? It 11 all come right." 
 
 " Good !" said the doctor, standing erect by the table. 
 "You ll do nicely. It s half in the spirit in which one 
 approaches these things. Sam, tell the missus we re ready. 
 She wanted to wait outside the door, and I thought it wise 
 that she should. We may need her." 
 
 Sam was gone but a moment, and, returning, closed the 
 door. 
 
 " She s there," he announced, in a faint voice. 
 
 The doctor nodded approval. 
 
 " Lie down," he said to Anny. And, as the girl obeyed : 
 "A little farther this way the shadow of the head-board 
 falls on that side. There, that is better. The light is 
 all that one could wish. Now !" 
 
 He took a towel, squeezed it together, poured some 
 chloroform over it, loosened it a little in his hand, then 
 held it near the patient s nose. 
 
 " She takes it beautifully," he nodded to Sam. "Some 
 times they struggle. Evidently her heart is in good con 
 dition." 
 
 When the patient was asleep and breathing satisfacto 
 rily, the doctor, after an instant s manipulation Sam 
 could not help noticing the quickness and lightness of 
 his touch began to cut away the hair close to the scalp. 
 Sam understood, and had his razor ready; and in less 
 time than it takes to tell it a good-sized portion of the 
 skin showed white arid smooth. 
 
 The doctor uttered not a word, and there was some 
 thing awful in the firmness and poise of his movements. 
 He stretched the shaven scalp carefully with his left hand 
 by the opposing pressure and pull of two fingers, and 
 Sam saw the flesh grow whiter as the blood underneath 
 was forced out of the sphere of manipulation. The 
 knives were within reach ; the doctor selected one, and in 
 
340 
 
 the act his eyes looked lightning. He brought the instru 
 ment into position and bent over, taking care to keep his 
 hand out of the light. Sam found himself catching his 
 breath and letting it go with a faintly audible shudder. 
 Would he cry out when the knife touched the flesh and 
 brought the blood ? 
 
 He followed every movement with the fascination of 
 expectant horror. The doctor s eyes revealed the light 
 and heat in him as do the doors of a furnace suddenly 
 opened. The knife descended with a tentative direct 
 ness, making towards the desired point as by the homing 
 instinct of a bird. It felt its way before it cut not un 
 certainly, but cautiously ; it seemed to be taking a long 
 look ahead. Presently it found what it wanted found 
 it and touched it with the deliberation of a living soul 
 determined to make sure. It was beautiful but terrible 
 a knife acting as if it possessed a mind and nervous 
 system of its own, and were following out a line of in 
 telligent action which it had learned through experience. 
 Sam watched with a feeling of growing sickness a sense 
 of sinking, expanding, evaporating. His stomach seemed 
 to turn over, as if a slow wave had rolled under it. There 
 was a big oblong link of ghastly white around his mouth. 
 His lips were dry and bloodless. 
 
 The knife drew itself deliberately to the left along a 
 line which might have been made by a ruler ; it gave out 
 a softly rasping sound, as if a thumb-nail had been drawn 
 across planed pine. Blood followed, oozing up in a raised 
 line and lying there like a wet scarlet thread. Sam 
 opened his mouth to cry out, shut it, and opened it 
 again. 
 
 " I can t stan* this, Doc," he gasped, in a stifled voice. 
 
 The doctor paused without looking up. But his feat 
 ures were all visible. Even with that dreadful faintness 
 heaving through him, Sam was awed by the beauty and 
 terror of the strange man s eyes. 
 
341 
 
 "Go to the farther window, out of the light," said he, 
 intent upon his work. " I ll call if I need you." 
 
 Sam obeyed with difficulty, his knees manifesting a 
 jack-knife propensity to double up. He leaned against 
 the window-frame, for the moment unconscious of every 
 thing but the horrible uncertainty of semi-consciousness. 
 He could not have raised the sash to save his life he 
 was as weak as a baby. His lungs struggled as if under 
 a weight; his stomach heaved and rolled; his nostrils 
 contracted and shut out his breath ; his throat was too 
 small ; his tongue and palate were in the way. 
 
 But presently the faintness began to pass. He flung 
 up the window and took in great gulps of air. There 
 were queer sounds all about sounds which his own 
 mind made and echoed. The pines had little shadows 
 close about them like puddles of black liquid ; the shal 
 lows of the river looked as if whitened by a wind that 
 struck them vertically ; there was a pale level cloud 
 above the mountains, and the blue heaven faded into it 
 as a sunny sky merges into a sunny sea. 
 
 The memory of what was taking place behind him re 
 turned, and he began to wonder how the operation had 
 progressed. Should he turn and see ? Not yet ! Any 
 thing but a recurrence of that horrid, aimless, unplace- 
 able disturbance of the very source of life ; he felt certain 
 that he could never live through another such qualm. 
 
 "If I only had some water/ he thought. "Could I 
 git to the table backwards, I wonder, n git a drink out o> 
 the basin ? No ; I might cut myself fumblin aroun 
 amongst them knives. Oh, I m better. I ll do perfeckly 
 well now. Wot a bright day tis, V how the dogs chase 
 each other up n down the river-bank ! Where do they 
 git the breath to do it with, I wonder ?" 
 
 But suddenly he was brought to his senses by a cry a 
 hideous, animal cry, full of nightmare effort, part bellow, 
 part bark, part shriek. He turned with a leap and saw 
 
342 
 
 Anny half erect on the bed, her eyes open, sightless and 
 staring, her month drawn and tense, her throat corrugated 
 by the strain of that frightful effort of pain. The doctor 
 stood over her, knife in hand, his body slanting backward, 
 as if that inhuman sound had given him a push. Even 
 as Sam looked the rigidity of Anny s figure relaxed, she 
 wavered, sank back ; her jaw dropped, as he had seen in 
 the case of people dying. A change came into the doc 
 tor s attitude, too ; the knife fell from his hand to the 
 table, where it clashed edge against edge with the other 
 instruments ; then he staggered back into his arm-chair 
 and lay there with closed eyes. 
 
 "I ve killed or cured her!" Sam heard him mutter. 
 " Killed or cured her, by God !" 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 PHCEBE ELLEN came in with a rush. Her eyes met 
 Sam s in a question which he did not try to answer. 
 
 "Look arter the doctor/ was all the explanation he 
 had time to give. "I ll tend to her." 
 
 He applied all the restoratives at hand water, brandy, 
 ammonia ; he rubbed her wrists, chafed her temples ; he 
 lowered her head over the side of the bed, holding it so 
 that the weight would not wrench the muscles of the neck. 
 His eyes were too intent on the pale, unconscious face to 
 notice definitely what Phoebe Ellen was doing, but he knew 
 that she was applying the same restoratives that he had 
 used, and in the same way. Presently he was gratified to 
 see that his patient began to breathe again. But her eyes 
 did not unclose, and there was no sign of consciousness. 
 
 He laid her head gently back upon the pillow. The 
 wound in the scalp was still bleeding with a slow persist 
 ence that made him shiver. He spunged it off it looked 
 horribly deep after the blood was washed away drew the 
 edges of the flap together, pressed them firmly down, and 
 applied a bandage. Then for a moment he stood off to 
 contemplate his work. 
 
 "Sam," he heard the doctor call, faintly, behind him. 
 
 For answer he approached the chair. He thought he 
 detected a ghastly humor in the drawn mouth and fading 
 eyes. 
 
 "You you see ?" the stricken man articulated, in a 
 voice that rattled in his throat. "I knew I wouldn t 
 live to see how it turned out." He lifted his dim, fatal 
 eyes. " It s God s fault not mine," he whispered. 
 
344 
 
 And with those words he died. 
 
 " Call Leather-head," said Sam. " Let em kerry im to 
 my room. I ll stay "ere with the little un." 
 
 Sam never once left his wife s side during the next two 
 days. He did not even attend the doctor s funeral, but 
 remained at the window, with one eye on the bed, so to 
 speak, and the other fixed upon the mournful group on 
 the mountain-side, standing uncovered in the clear au 
 tumn sunshine as old man Halstead read the service for 
 the dead. 
 
 " Dan 11 be glad to have im layin there beside im," 
 Sam thought as he turned to the bedside once more. "He 
 done his best fer the little un, however it turns out, n 
 Dan 11 know." 
 
 And he sat down at the head of the bed to watch. 
 
 " It s jes like the sleep she fell into arter the accident," 
 he thought for the hundredth time. " How 11 she wake 
 from it, I wonder ? Better or wuss, or jes the same ?" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen came in from the funeral with her hat on. 
 
 " Pears like she s breathin stronger," she said, after a 
 a momentary examination. " Had ye noticed ?" 
 
 " I thort so myself," was Sam s reply. 
 
 She took off her hat and sat down on the opposite side 
 of the bed. She appeared worn and anxious ; but there 
 were determination and prospective triumph in the hard 
 curve of her mouth. 
 
 " She s gittin to look older," thought Sam, giving her a 
 long, examining glance. " N wickeder. She wa n t like 
 that when she fust come. Wot s she thinkin of, I won 
 der ?" 
 
 "Doc Sedgwick s dead," was the thought that had 
 given expression to Phoebe Ellen s face and occasioned 
 Sam s curiosity. "He died thout tellin wot he knowed 
 he kep his word, spite o knowin how I hated im. N 
 now I got to fight it out atween these two. Sam never 
 
345 
 
 leaves er, not even to take a breath o air. He s more dan- 
 g rous n. wot she ll be,, even if she comes to in er right 
 mind." 
 
 She bent over the bed and lifted the hand of the sleeper 
 as if to feel the pulse. 
 
 " She s wakin ," said Sam, suddenly, in a hushed voice. 
 
 The invalid had half opened her eyes, and the lids were 
 quivering with a premonition of complete expansion. 
 Phoebe Ellen bent lower. The movement attracted the 
 attention of the awakening girl, and the eyes fixed upon 
 the down-bent face with an expression of half recognition. 
 This steady gaze continued for a full moment. 
 
 " Sis !" cried the sick girl, suddenly " sis, where s my 
 posies ?" 
 
 It was the voice Sam remembered to have heard before 
 the accident the pretty, drawling voice which he had 
 thought of so often since with regret but with an accent 
 of haste and fear in its utterance. 
 
 "Where s my posies ?" she repeated, in a high key. 
 
 Sam s hopes fell as quickly as they had risen. Had she 
 awakened with her old voice, her old look, but in a new 
 state of delirium ? Phoebe Ellen s heart was beating high 
 with the same thought. She did not dare to look into 
 his eyes lest he should read the wicked triumph in her 
 own. 
 
 " She s crazy !" she whispered. " She s woke up s 
 crazy s wot she was afore, only dif rent !" 
 
 " My posies, my posies !" repeated the invalid, impa 
 tiently. "Wot have I done with my posies ? If ye ve 
 took em n. hid em, bring em back !" 
 
 Suddenly Sam s heart gave a great jubilant leap. 
 
 "She was gatherin posies fer Dan s grave when the 
 lan slide overtook er !" he cried out. " She s took up 
 er life jes where she left it off that day thank God !" 
 
 And he fell on his knees by the bed and buried his face 
 in the covering. 
 
346 
 
 Army fixed her eyes on him with a sort of cold won 
 der. 
 
 "Oh, I know/ she said, in a quieter voice than she had 
 used before, and therein the old tone and inflection came 
 out fully. " Ye re Sam the man wot come to the depot 
 fer us." 
 
 "Yes yes !" he answered, lifting his face eagerly. 
 
 A slow flush overspread her features and she turned her 
 head away. 
 
 "Wot be I doin ere in bed with Mm aroun ?" 
 Her eyes met her sister s. "Take me away, sis wot 
 does it mean ?" 
 
 Phoebe Ellen s face had hardened as the assurance of 
 her sister s recovery became plain. But she did not lose 
 her self-control. 
 
 "Hush!" she said, as gently as she could. "Ye ve 
 been sick fer ever so long ye ll know all bout it by- n - 
 by!" 
 
 The invalid stirred restlessly. 
 
 " But why not now why not now ? I m well, ain t I ? 
 Tell me bout it I want to hear !" 
 
 "Lay still V rest," said Phoebe Ellen, soothingly. 
 
 There was danger now that at any moment the truth 
 about the ownership of the ranch might come out, and 
 such a revelation must never be made, cost what it might. 
 " Ud it do any harm to give er a drop or two o that 
 morphine, Sam ? We don t want er to git excited it 
 might spile the hull bizness." 
 
 Sam considered a moment, then rose and measured out 
 the proper amount. 
 
 The Doc said it was allus proper to give morphine 
 arter a operation," he said. " W he tole me how much. 
 Ye ll be stronger when ye wake up ag in," he said to 
 Anny, as she drank from the tumbler which he held for 
 her. "We ll tell ye all bout it then. Ye mus trust it 
 all to us jes now ; we know best." 
 
347 
 
 "Well," said the girl, drinking obediently. She fixed 
 her eyes upon his in a long, studious gaze. " Ye ll stay 
 with me while I sleep ?" she finally asked. 
 
 "Shorely shorely !" 
 
 " N ye ll be ? ere to tell me when I wake ? I d ruther 
 ye d tell me 11 sis. See ! She has sech a queer look in 
 er eyes. Has she been sick, too ?" 
 
 "No, no," soothed Sam, without taking the trouble 
 to glance in Phoebe Ellen s direction. " Yer eyes see 
 crooked arter bein sick so long. Only sleep sleep !" 
 
 " Shall I stay with er, too ?" asked Phoebe Ellen, after 
 the invalid was breathing quietly. 
 
 "No, I ll look arter er," was Sam s answer. And she 
 left the room and went to her chamber. And when she 
 came down her eyes were burning strangely, and there was 
 something rolled up under her apron which she was try 
 ing to conceal. 
 
 Sam remained at his wife s bedside for an hour or more. 
 She was sleeping so sweetly, so quietly, that he found him 
 self growing drowsy by sheer force of example. There 
 was no need to watch her ; she would not waken for two 
 or three hours at least. Why should he not go out for a 
 little walk in the sunshine ? Judy had been brought 
 home, and he could see her out there in the corral, look 
 ing wistfully over the logs as if in search of her master. 
 There were a dozen odd jobs that he ought to attend to. 
 Had the boys raked down the mow properly, and not scat 
 tered the hay all over the barn in feeding the home cattle ? 
 Had Leatherhead tinned up the rat-holes into the grana 
 ry ? Had the saddle been mended that he had flung off in 
 that wild flight to the station ? Were the pigs properly 
 "swilled," and had the chickens been kept out of the 
 corn -crib? Pinky, in his capacity as manager of the 
 ranch, had been looking after these things, Sam knew, but 
 his training had not been of the sort to make his over 
 sight thorough. Sam longed to go and see for himself. 
 
348 
 
 He put on his hat and stole quietly out, glancing once 
 at the unconscious sleeper to make sure that all was well. 
 
 " I ll be back long afore she wakes/" he thought, as he 
 left the house and started across the open between the 
 veranda and the barn. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen saw him from the kitchen window, and 
 went at once to the stove, where she bent diligently over 
 something that was stewing in a basin. 
 
 " Suthin fer the little un ?" asked Pinky, who was read 
 ing a week-old newspaper by the window. 
 
 She bent lower over the stove. 
 
 " A kind o a tonic the Doc ordered fer er afore he 
 died," she answered. 
 
 " Oh," said Pinky, reading on. 
 
 Sam had completed his tour of inspection about the 
 ba.rn, and was on the point of returning to the house he 
 had stopped a moment at the corral to scratch Judy s 
 out-thrust nose when he was startled by the sound of 
 hurrying footsteps behind him, and Leatherhead s voice 
 rising in a falsetto screech. 
 
 "Fer God s sake, hear er ! Don t ye hear? Come 
 quick ! The little un s woke up clean crazy, V s bangin 
 er head agin the wall ! Pinky s gone to the upper corral 
 he tole me the missus d sent im fer suthin V they 
 ain t nobody ere but you. Hear er yell ? That s her ! 
 The missus says it s the operation, V she allus knowed 
 wot ud come o it. She s with er now. N ye d better 
 hurry if ye want to see er alive !" 
 
 Sam arranged the roustabout s pronouns as best he 
 could, and started for the house on a run. In the cham 
 ber where he had left his wife asleep, an awful sight met 
 his gaze a sight which made him sick and faint and long 
 to run away. 
 
CHAPTER XLI 
 
 was flinging herself from one end of the room 
 to the other like a mad thing. Her countenance had lost 
 all semblance to that of a human being ; her features were 
 drawn close together in the middle of her face, where they 
 quivered and shook with a beastly passion. Her teeth 
 showed; she had bitten her lips, and the blood was run 
 ning down into her bosom. Her breath sounded shrill 
 and irregular, inhaled by jerks and expelled in puffs and 
 gasps, but preserving through all a sound of irrational 
 animal fury. Her eyes had the peculiar bulging, rolling 
 glare of an enraged buffalo ; a red light came from them 
 when turned at certain angles. 
 
 Phoebe Ellen was cowering in one corner of the room, 
 her teeth chattering. 
 
 "I knowed how twould be from the fust," she gasped, 
 coming closer to Sam. "Doc Sedgwick didn t know wot 
 he was doin , V this is Avot comes o puttiii a knife in 
 his hand. Look at 7 er, n lay the blame where it b longs." 
 Her voice had grown steadier as Sam s presence gave her 
 assurance of her personal safety, "/never cornsented 
 ye know I never did. She d better V stayed like she was, 
 / say, n to have to pass the rest o her life like this." 
 
 Sam gave no sign of hearing. He approached the rav 
 ing woman and took her by the arm. 
 
 "Hush !" he cried, authoritatively. "Hush, I tell ye, 
 n go to the bed n lay down." 
 
 He tried to lead her, but she struck at him with her 
 free arm and he was obliged to desist. 
 
 "She ll die she ll die !" cried Phoebe Ellen, forgetting 
 
350 
 
 her own share in this terrible business and thinking only 
 of the deadly horror of it. 
 
 Sam was about to lay hands on the raving woman again 
 and try to pinion her arms he could think of no other 
 means of restraining the mad creature and keeping her 
 from taking her own life when he was arrested by the 
 sight of Leatherhead s round, pimpled face, its senseless 
 surprise all changed to terror now, peering in at him 
 through the half-open door. 
 
 " Git a rope !" cried Phoebe Ellen at this moment. 
 "Anything only don t let this dretful thing go on. I 
 shall be mad myself in another five minutes jes to see 
 it!" 
 
 " J L1 ye stay with er while I go ?" asked Sam. 
 
 "No ! I know where they s one out to the barn," she 
 answered, and she sped past Leatherhead without seeing 
 him and disappeared. 
 
 "Sam !" said the roustabout, in a low voice. 
 
 Sam s eyes, by a horrid fascination, had returned to the 
 raving woman, but he now faced the door. 
 
 "I ve got suthin to say bout this ere bizness," said the 
 roustabout, in a voice of mingled fright and resolution. 
 
 He drew from the side pocket of his jacket a dried leaf 
 of peculiar shape. 
 
 "Look at that !" he said, handing it to Sam. "Look 
 at it s clost s wot ye ever looked at anything in all yer 
 life. N then tell me wot tis." 
 
 Sam examined the leaf carefully. Then his eyes met 
 Leatherhead s with a slow, inquiring horror in them. 
 
 "It looks like" 
 
 But Leatherhead took up the word with eager triumph. 
 
 " Loco. It looks like loco, V tis loco. I come into 
 the kitchen bout ten minutes arter ye d gone out to the 
 barn, n there was the missus bend in over the stove 
 a-lookiir down at suthin wot was a-bilin in a basin. It s 
 suthin fer sis, she says. It s to tone er up. It s yarb 
 
351 
 
 tea. I didn t think nothin more bout it, fer it never 
 come into my head as we had the devil ere in the house, 
 though I orter V been s picious arter the way she tried to 
 get red o the little un that night. By- n -by the drink 
 was done. She d sent Pinky off to the upper corral, so 
 they waVt nobody there but me ; V she tuck V strained 
 it V emptied the leaves in the fire V kerried the tea up 
 stairs. Well, even arter the pore little un begun to rave 
 I didn t think nothing nuther ; I jes made shore the Doc 
 d cut too deep, or suthin ; but arter I d called ye n ye d 
 gone up-stairs I went back to the kitchen, n there I found 
 this ere leaf on the floor n picked it up, thinkin the wind 
 d blowed it in from outside ; n I Avas goin to throw it 
 into the wood-box when all to wunst I seen wot twas. I 
 swear, ye could V knocked me over with a feather, ye 
 could." 
 
 "I m glad Pinky didn t have no hand in it/ said Sam, 
 in a voice that hoarsened and broke in his throat. 
 
 "I don t b lieve he did I swear I don t. It s all er 
 own work, the she-devil ! I could take my oath to it. 
 N arter the way I ve stood by er V waited on er ! She 
 knowed bout the Doc s haviir a lot o that weed dried n 
 spread out up garret las fall ; n she tuck some out n hid 
 it away in case she might need it. Lord ! I never seen 
 nothin clearer in all my life. Ain t it plain ?" 
 
 " Come into the room ere with me," was Sam s answer. 
 "Has Pinky come back ? No ? I d like im to know the 
 kind o wife he s got, but that 11 keep. Come ! It ain t 
 s bad s wot it might be that is, if Doc Sedgwick s 
 word s good fer anything. Ye won t be afeerd to help me 
 hold er while I give er some med cine, will ye ?" 
 
 At this moment Phoebe Ellen entered, breathless, with 
 the rope. 
 
 "We won t need it," said Sam, quietly. "I ve found 
 out wot s the matter " 
 
 In her excitement and horror she had forgotten what 
 
352 
 
 was the matter herself, and the knowledge came back to 
 her now like a blow on the head. She started to speak, 
 but 
 
 " Keep still !" commanded Sam, and she shrank back 
 in scared obedience. 
 
 He went to the row of bottles on the table which had 
 remained undisturbed since the doctor s death undis 
 turbed not by design, but by the accident of that unwill 
 ingness which all men feel for disarranging the posses 
 sions of the dead and selected one. Phoebe Ellen s 
 features relaxed into a heavy surprise which quivered into 
 curiosity in her mouth and eyebrows. Sam remembered 
 the bottle well. " Three drops in half a tumbler of water 
 will do the business in half an hour," the doctor had said. 
 Sam had looked and listened too attentively to forget. 
 
 " Bring me half a tumbler of water," he said to Leather- 
 head. 
 
 "Wot wot is it ?" stammered Phoebe Ellen, moving 
 forward, and half forgetting the woman who was raging 
 back and forth on the other side of the room. 
 
 "Wait V see," was Sam s answer, delivered with a 
 smile as enigmatic as the doctor s own. 
 
 In a moment Leatherhead returned with the glass and 
 water. Sam poured out the prescribed medicine with the 
 care of one who has life and death in his hands. Then 
 he said to Leatherhead : 
 
 " We must hold er leastways fer a minute or two 
 till I make er drink the stuff. D ye reckon ye kin man 
 age er left arm ?" 
 
 "I kin try," responded Leatherhead, with tremulous 
 bravery. 
 
 " Then I ll tend to the rest, " said Sam. 
 
 The raving woman seemed altogether unconscious of 
 them even after they had seized her, except as an oppos 
 ing force which, for all she knew, might have been the 
 wall. They grasped her firmly on either side, and, in spite 
 
353 
 
 of her shrieks and struggles, bore her to the table where 
 the tumbler of medicine stood. She had already greatly 
 exhausted herself, and between the two men she was pas 
 sive as if in a clamp. Sam took the tumbler and held it 
 to her lips. 
 
 " Drink I" he cried, in a loud voice. " Drink !" 
 
 The words forced themselves into her mind without 
 rousing it, but they must have awakened at least some 
 mechanical habit of obedience, some reflex nervous train, 
 for she drank as he commanded, gazing at the ceiling with 
 heavy, unseeing eyes. The glass being emptied, Sam 
 thought best to let her loose again, for he knew not at 
 what moment her ravings might recommence, and in her 
 present state he dreaded less the effect of liberty than 
 coercion. She tottered a few steps, groaning and crying 
 and flinging out her arms ; but she was weak with the 
 dreadful strain of her former ravings, and either as a 
 result of that or of the medicine she presently fell in a 
 shapeless heap upon the floor. 
 
 She lay quite still, with the exception of an occasional 
 moan, as if the tortured soul were still tossed on the 
 ground-swell of its fury. Sam lifted her very tenderly 
 and placed her on the bed, and she made no resistance. 
 Phoebe Ellen stood in the background watching these 
 proceedings with mingled feelings. She was one of those 
 hard, unyielding natures to whom consequences seldom 
 bring remorse, and she felt only a sort of mental nausea 
 for what she had done. She had never imagined the 
 dreadful details of the action of that drug, and she was 
 almost willing for the moment to take the consequences 
 of her sister s recovery if only for the sake of being re 
 lieved of the sight of her torment. 
 
 Presently Army s groans ceased altogether, and she be 
 gan to talk. Not coherently, but the very disconnection 
 of her words was hopeful as contrasted with her former 
 inarticulate cries, indicating as it did an approach to hu- 
 
 23 
 
354 
 
 man consciousness. She imagined strange things, was 
 subject to strange illusions of sight and sound. There 
 were inverted rivers flowing over her, and the sky was 
 below ; the bedposts were all talking together, and that 
 made her nervous ; there were shooting-stars in the room, 
 and the walls kept falling in and then straightening them 
 selves. Sam watched her through all this with a fierce, 
 anxious joy. 
 
 At last the girl lay quite still, breathing irregularly, 
 but otherwise exhibiting no trace of the horror through 
 which she had passed. 
 
 t Wonderful \" said Sam, aloud. " Why couldn t the 
 Doc V lived to see this ? It ud V done im s much good 
 s the operation." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen came close to the bed. She had recovered 
 her composure to a certain extent, and her tongue was up 
 to its old tricks. 
 
 " He didn t die none too quick," she cut in. 
 
 (i They s other folks aroun this ranch t can t die too 
 quick, either," remarked Sam, significantly. "In fact, 
 they ve been altogether too slow bout it ; n I mean to 
 make a point o seein if the law can t hurry em up a bit." 
 
 And Phoebe Ellen shrank back into silence. 
 
 " My posies my posies !" cried Anny, suddenly opening 
 her eyes. i Who s took my posies away from me ? Tears 
 like I d been wanderin all over the world sence I picked 
 my posies." Sam was bending over her, and his was the 
 first face she saw. " Where d ye say the grave was ? 
 Under the pines on the mountain-side ? I can t see it 
 from ere. Why, I m in a house ! Whose is it ? Where s 
 sis ?" 
 
 "She s ere," said Sam, in a tone of gentle assurance. 
 : Come, he said to Phcebe Ellen, in a low voice. " The 
 least ye kin do s to try to keep er calmed down." 
 
 Phcebe Ellen approached the bed and knelt. 
 
 " Ye re better/ she said, in a smothered tone. " Ye ve 
 
355 
 
 been sick ye re powerful weak yit. But ye ll be well 
 afore long, now/ 7 
 
 " Have I been sick ?" 
 
 "Dretful sick. But it s all right. Ye ain t afeerd ?" 
 
 "No. But Fm so weak. N it seems so queer." 
 
 " It 11 come right later. Don t bother now. Ye feel 
 weak V tired ?" 
 
 "But I d like to know wot it s all about. My body 
 aches, my bones feels stiff, here s blood on my throat ; 
 but my head feels clear. Where s Sam ? He ll tell me. 
 He was good to me from the start. Ye needn t stay. 
 They s suthin wrong with ye." She looked at her sister 
 shrinkingly and with a sudden repulsion. " I don t like 
 yer looks. Ye ve changed somehow. Go way ! Sam 11 
 tell me wot I want to know." 
 
 Phoebe Ellen shrank from the room, and Leatherhead 
 followed her. Then Sam knelt down by his wife s bed 
 and took her hand. He had not intended to go into the 
 details of the accident and the operation and Phoebe El 
 len s dreadful act of vengeance for such he deemed it 
 not knowing any logical cause for the deed except her 
 unrequited affection for himself ; but Anny inquired so 
 rationally about one thing after another, and took his 
 answers with a good sense so quiet and self-possessed, 
 that before many moments she was mistress of all he knew, 
 even to the supreme fact of her wedding. For a wonder, 
 she did not resent it ; she flushed a little, was quiet for a 
 time, and then changed the conversation ; that was all. 
 And when it came out as presently it did that she was 
 the actual owner of the ranch, and that Phoebe Ellen had 
 been usurping her place all these months, Sam understood 
 the misguided woman s final act fully, and in his heart 
 thought better of her than he had done since her hostil 
 ity to the operation had been made manifest. 
 
 How long they talked he never knew, nor just what 
 they talked about ; only, whenever he attempted to lead 
 
356 
 
 up to the subject of the wedding again, Anny looked so 
 strangely, she flushed so hotly, and turned away so per 
 sistently and sought other themes of conversation with 
 such diligence, that he was finally forced to be silent 
 altogether ; and presently he fell to wondering why she 
 should seem to care so much about it and yet not be 
 angry. But finally they were interrupted by Leather- 
 head. 
 
 "Well, say!" he began. "They re gone them two. 
 Yes, her V Pinky. A hour ago. N she had a face on 
 er t ud sour vinegar. She says to me, We re goin f er 
 a little ride, says she, n I never thort it might be fer 
 good, I swear I didn t. Ye ll find suthin in my room 
 fer Mr. Tinker, says she. It s on the beaury. Wait a 
 hour, says she, then go n give it to im. So I waited, 
 n ere tis. My shape ! S soon s I seen twas a letter, 
 I knowed they d jes nachelly skipped. The last I seen 
 o Pinky he was goin up the hill, V he was hittin the 
 bottle hard. He ll be soakin drunk afore he gits to the 
 station, I bet a hen !" 
 
 Meanwhile Sam was reading the letter. 
 
 "Kin I know wot s in it ?" asked Anny, when he had 
 finished. 
 
 " Yes. They ve left fer good that s the long V short 
 o it. Gone to Nebrasky. To the old place back there. 
 She says she reckons ye ll let em live there thout troub- 
 lin em, even if ye do own half." 
 
 She s my sister," said Anny, belligerent in excuse of 
 her too ready forgiveness. 
 
 Sam nodded. 
 
 " N Nebrasky s good nough fer er. Pore Pinky !" 
 
 Anny meditated. 
 
 "Pore sis, 7 say," she finally retorted. "She had a 
 queer disposition she couldn t help it. She ll have er 
 conscience to deal with. She had one wunst it 11 come 
 to er ag in when she gits time to think." 
 
357 
 
 Sam smiled. 
 
 Pore Pinky, I still say. Fer he ll have her V her 
 conscience both ; n they re both terrors !" 
 
 They were silent for some time. 
 
 "It s turned out all right," remarked Anny at last 
 " leastways fer iis. If she hadn t been so wicked " 
 
 "Well, wot then?" 
 
 "I wouldn t V made shore o the kindest, truest hus- 
 ban in the world !" she cried, suddenly drawing his face 
 down to hers. 
 
 And at this point, though neither of them noticed, 
 Leatherhead left the room, tittering wildly behind his 
 hand. 
 
 THE END 
 
BY HENRY SETON MERRIMA1ST 
 
 THE SOWERS. A Novel. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, 
 $1 25. 
 
 " The Sowers," for subtlety of plot, for brilliancy of dialogue, and for 
 epigrammatic analysis of character, is one of the cleverest books of the 
 season. Churchman, N. Y. 
 
 There have been few such good novels for years. Illustrated London 
 News. 
 
 The book is strong, epigrammatic, and logical. Critic, N. Y. 
 
 A story of absorbing interest from the first page to the last. Scotsman, 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 Is an interesting novel with strong and exciting scenes in many of its 
 chapters. Life in Russia is vividly portrayed both in high places and 
 among the degraded peasantry and the romance is well woven through 
 out. Observer, N. Y. 
 
 WITH EDGED TOOLS. A Novel. Post 8vo, Cloth, Orna 
 mental, $1 25. 
 
 Mr. Merriman is so original, and has such a nice knack of putting 
 things together, that he keeps up the interest on every page. . . . The 
 story ought to be one of the successful romances of the season. N. Y. 
 Times. 
 
 A remarkable novel. It is long since we have read so good a novel as 
 this. N. Y. Mail and Express. 
 
 FROM ONE GENERATION TO ANOTHER. A Novel. 
 Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 
 
 A book of unusual force. It contains a remarkably acute study of a 
 selfish and silly woman one almost perfect in construction. N. Y. 
 Tribune. 
 
 We have no hesitation in recommending it as a decidedly good and en 
 tertaining novel. Spectator, London. 
 
 THE PHANTOM FUTURE. A Novel. 8vo, Paper, 35 
 cents. 
 
 To those who relish a minute and searching analysis of character, and 
 who appreciate refinement and purity of style, we may recommend " The 
 Phantom Future." ... A charming story. N. Y. Sun. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
 The above works are for sale by all booksellers, or will be sent by the 
 publishers, postage prepaid, on receipt of the price. 
 
BY GEORGE DU MAUKIER 
 
 ENGLISH SOCIETY. Sketched by GEORGE DU MAURIER. 
 
 About 100 illustrations. With an Introduction by W. D. 
 
 HOWELLS. Oblong 4to, Cloth, Ornamental, $2 50. 
 
 Those who are famrliar with Mr. Du Maurier s work in Punch, 
 nearly a score of years ago, will remember the series of charming draw 
 ings he made, illustrating the ^Esthetic craze of the period, and at once 
 he was recognized as being the keenest observer and the finest delineator 
 of life and manners of his day. In the delicate quality of his wit we see 
 all that is associated with the cleverest of the French unmistakably 
 showing the choice quality of his Gallic blood, with none of the heaviness 
 of his Anglo-Saxon strain. The drawings in this volume really form a 
 more perfect picture of " English Society " and manners of the day than 
 can be found in the works contemporary, either literary or artistic. 
 
 TRILBY. A Novel. Illustrated by the Author. Post 8vo, 
 Cloth, Ornamental, $1 75 ; Three-quarter Calf, $3 50 ; Three- 
 quarter Crushed Levant, 4 50. 
 
 Mr. Du Maurier has written his tale with such originality, uncon- 
 ventionality, and eloquence, such rollicking humor and tender pathos, 
 and delightful play of every lively fancy, all running so briskly in ex 
 quisite English, and with such vivid dramatic picturing, that it is only com 
 parable ... to the freshness and beauty of a spring morning at the 
 end of a dragging winter. ... A thoroughly unique story. N. . Sun. 
 
 PETER IBBETSON. With an Introduction by his Cousin, 
 Lady * * * * ("Madge Plunket "). Edited and Illustrated by 
 GEORGE DU MAURIER. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 50 ; 
 Three-quarter Calf, $3 25 ; Three-quarter Crushed Levant, 
 $4 25. 
 
 There are so many beauties, so many singularities, so much that is 
 fresh and original, in Mr. Du Maurier s story that it is difficult to treat it 
 at all adequately from the point of view of criticism. That it is one of 
 the most remarkable books that have appeared for a long time is, how 
 ever, indisputable. N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 The pathos is true, the irony delicate, the satire severe when its 
 subject is unworthy, the comedy sparkling, and the tragedy, as we have 
 said, inevitable. N. Y. Evening Post. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
 %fThe above works are for sale by all booksellers, or will be sent by the publishers, 
 postage prepaid, on receipt of the price. 
 
YB 736K)