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A SON OF THE PLAINS

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A SO^^ OF THE PLAINS

ARTHUR PATERSO]^

AUTHOR OF "a MA>- OF HIS WORD," "THE DAUGHTER
OF THE NEZ PEECES," ETC.

MACMILLAN AND CO.

AND LONDON
1895

All n't/his reserved

So/'

NorSaooti i^nss :

J. S. Gushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith.

Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

CONTEXTS.

CHAPTER I.

PAGE

On the Trail 1

CHAPTER II.
Arapahoe Camp 23

CHAPTER III.
Rescued 36

CHAPTER IV.
'■Road Agexts " „ . . 53

CHAPTER V.
Jeffersox Collixgwood. Cowboy . . . o , ^73

CHAPTER VI.
The Attack at Clixter's Ford ...... 90

CHAPTER VII.
The Words of a Wise Max 100

CHAPTER VITI.

iSTat's Reward .......... 119

M105429

Vi CONTENTS.

CHAPTER IX.

PAOE

Thunder in the Air . . 131

CHAPTER X.
The Storm bursts 148

CHAPTER XI.
In the Lion's Den ......... 167

CHAPTER XII.
Not Forsaken • 1^3

CHAPTER XIII.
War to the Knife ......»•- 198

CHAPTER XIV.
Death-grips ........•• 212

CHAPTER XV.
Mixer's Men 222

CHAPTER XVI.
Maizie's Explanation 239

CHAPTER XVII.
Jeff takes Advice 251

A SOX OF THE PLAIXS.

CHAPTER I.

ON THE TEAIL.

A BEOWX line of sandy track six hundred miles
long, and fifteen to fifty yards broad, beaten out of the
prairie by the hoofs of countless oxen, sheep, and
horses, and the feet of men, — such is that great
emigrants' thoroughfare from East to West knoyrn as
the Santa Fe trail.

The source of the trail is at Van Buren City, Arkan-
sas ; it ends at Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico,
and so yast has been the traffic oyer it that eyen the
tough prairie grass has yielded up its life, and not a
blade is left upon the track for fully four hundred
miles.

A grim record has the Santa Fe trail. All kinds of
men pass oyer it, but it kno\ys the emigrant best, —

2 , , , A SON OF THE PLAINS.

aiTvI niajiiy. ve-ry many, iiaye never gone further. Thirst
killed themV'one by ot'e, as they wearily tramped on
and on, expecting the summer rains, which were late
that year; or they died, a score at a time, round their
blazing wagons, massacred in a night by the Arapahoe
Indians.

Nowadays, the journey is comparatively safe ; but the
observant traveller finds many a memento of the good
old times, and when turning over the bones of cattle,
horses and sheep by the wayside, will stumble not
unfrequently upon the skull of a man.

Twenty years ago, before the trail's deadliest foe,
the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railway, began to
cut it to pieces and extinguish part of it altogether, a
man who embarked on a journey across the plains
carried his life in his hands. Yet there Avere men who
did it constantly. Stockmen these, bred in the country
beyond the trail, whose business it was to bring their
produce to the Eastern markets, and who counted such
risks as it had to offer them the merest child's play.
Every summer, in the months of June and July, when
rain may be expected, — though it does not always
come, — men with wild-eyed sheep, gaunt long-horned
cattle, or wiry broncho ponies, wended their way by
easy stages from the mountains and the plains of New

ox THE TRAIL. 6

Mexico and Colorado to the toAvns of Kansas, sometimes
as far as Kansas City itself, marking by day the water-
holes and creeks, at night watching by their lonely
camp-fires for the prowling Indian. The Indians, to
do them justice, seldom interfered wantonly with such
travellers, finding them more trouble than their posses-
sions were worth.

In the summer of 1873, a camp of two thousand
sheep, four horses, a dog, and a wagon, all in the
charge of two men, leisurely wended its way in an
easterly direction, bound for Seckersburg, a town in
Eastern Kansas. The sheep were "Mexican," but
well-graded with Merino blood, and while retaining
the physical strength and hardiness of their original
ancestry, had gained a crop of tliick, long-stapled,
silk}' wool, which would give them a good market
value anywhere. JMoreover, they were in excellent
condition, in which respect they were in striking con-
trast to the rest of the live-stock, including their owner
and his man.

Food on a sheep-ranche is of the simplest descrip-
tion. In winter every one eats mutton. Bread is
used sparingly and as a luxury; molasses (coarse
treacle) is occasionally indulged in. For drink, there
is coffee, innocent of milk or sugar. In summer.

4 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

owing to the absence of refrigerators, fresh meat is
impossible, and the sheep-man retires upon dried or
salted bacon. To this beans are added, and the two
together form the whole of the diet available on a sheep-
ranche while the warm weather lasts. In summer,
therefore, sheep-men are the thinnest of any known
race on earth.

The men in charge of these sheep on the trail were
in their usual summer condition. Their dog, whose
share of the food Avas the bread crusts and bacon rinds,
was thinner still ; while the horses, though indepen-
dent of meat, were worked so hard, by reason of the
sandy nature of the track, that to an inexperienced eye
they would have appeared mere living skeletons.
Those who knew the Western pony, however, would
have pronounced them to be in good working trim.

The camp, when we become acquainted with it, was
beginning its first preparations for settling down for
the night, on the Two Butte Creek, a small water-
course twenty miles west of the Kansas frontier. It
was a good camping-ground. The creek, with the aid
of a shower the day before, had deserved its name by
providing at this point three large holes of water, or,
to speak more correctly, liquid of the colour and con-
sistency of thick pea-soup, which when boiled in the

ON THE TEATL. b

coffee-pot produced a certain quantity of water. A
strip of fresh, succulent grass bordered the creek for
nearly half a mile, the trail crossing a hundred yards
below and bearing away slantwise to the northeast,
ascendingf a "roll" or undulation of ijrairie, on the
side of which the camp was pitched. In a few minutes
the fire was lighted, the horses picketed out for the
night, and cooking-utensils (/.f. two tin plates and
cups, a frying-pan, battered coffee-pot and mill, and
pan of black Mexican beans) were produced from the
wagon, and in less time than any civilised person
would consider possible, the camp-master stood up and
whistled a signal to his companion that supper was
ready.

This man meanwhile, the herder, had gently set
the two thousand faces of his sheep camp-wards,
and, leavino' them to their own devices, made a
wide detour to the left, approached his supper —
that best and most grateful of meals — with long
eao-er strides.

It was a peaceful scene, growing more so as, the
sun having set, the night gathered fast from the
east and the evening stillness crept over all living
thino-s. There was no wind, and the skv was free
of cloud. To the west the lurid light in the wake

6 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

of the sun made the brown prairie, stretching like tlie
sea without a bush to relieve its monotony, browner
still, and cast a faint reflection of orange on the
white backs of the sheep, as they greedily cropped
the fresh grass, and approached by slow degrees
their bedding place on the hill. The most restful
moment this in all the herder's day. Sheep, prop-
erly handled, have an unfailing instinct of what to
do with themselves when night is near. The light
of the fire they know means protection, and as long
as it is on the slope of a hill — for sheep hate flat
ground to sleep on — they draw toward it of their
own accord, and as the last gleams of daylight die
away settle contentedly down in one great mass
of baaing drowsiness.

Very soon there was no sound in camp but the
occasional stamp of the tired horses and their busy
munching of the meadow grass. The sheep were
asleep, the dog was dozing, and the men, their sup-
per done, smoked in silence before the dying embers
of the fire.

They had not spoken a word since the meal
began, and but for a few curt remarks about the
route to-morrow they would not address one another,
probably, for twenty-four hours more. Yet they

ox THE TRAIL. 7

were not stupid, nor sulky, nor sad, nor oppressed
with uneasy consciences. They were simply men
who had been Lred in the great silent land of the
' far West, where s^^eech becomes a very minor quantity
in life. How can we bring home such a condition
to our readers, dwellers in cities and towns, whose
fathers dwelt in cities and towns, and to whose ex-
perience the customs, thoughts, and actions of such
men as we have before us to-night are stranger,
and more puzzling, than those of the wildest beasts
of forest or field ?

Sheep-rearing had been the business of these men
for years ; and sheep-camp in tlie summer Avhere a
man lives for months together miles from the settle-
ment in a hut of his own making, and sheep-ranche
in winter where he is by himself every day for twelve
hours out of the twenty-four, is the loneliest life in
the world. And when this goes on from year's end to
year's end — one unchanging round of monotonous
work, no society to enliven it, no holiday to break
it — what happens ?

In the examples we have here, two things have
happened. We will take the herder first. He is a
tall, powerfully built man of fifty-five, who in spite of
his elastic step and a wiry frame, looks ten years

8 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

more than that. Drink has laid a heavy hand upon
him. Just now he is free from his enemy, for he has
not seen a saloon for two months, but in the trem-
bling hands, bleary eyes, and bloated features, the
demon has left indelible claw-marks, and when the
long tramp is over will claim Sebastian Bean body
and soul while he has a cent in his pocket. Five
years ago Bean was as sober a man as need be,
but he lost his wife that year, and before twelve
months were gone every stick he possessed had been
sold over his head, and he was a wanderer without
a friend.

The other man, camp-master and OAvner of the two
thousand sheep, is a very different person. At first
sight he looks little more than a boy, for he is of
slender build, and has not a hair on his face. Take a
second glance into that face, and you feel he may be
any age up to forty. As a matter of fact, he is just
twenty-two, but so hardly have the circumstances of
his life dealt with him, that no Eastern man would
believe he was less than five and thirty.

There is no sign of drink, however, here. His features
are regular and sharply cut, his complexion a clear
brown, albeit so burnt and deeply tanned by exposure
that one would be half inclined to wonder whether he

ox THE TRAIL. 9

were of white blood but for his light blue eyes. He
is the pictiu-e of health, and gaunt though he be, unlike
most sheep-men he holds himself well, carrying his
head Ayith a certain dignity which makes him appear
taller than he is. Yet he looks haggard and worn.
His cheeks are as hollow as thouo-h he were recoyer-
ing from illness, his lips, untouched as yet by the
merest suggestion of a moustache, are thin and
tightly drawn. Western life has left its mark on
him. There has been no pleasure in his life since
he can remember. He has worked hard and success-
fully, for these sheep are all his own, but there has
been some shadow across his path which has robbed
him of his youth. If we look closely into his face,
we see something more than weariness caused by a
monotonous life. In his eyes there is that listeninsf,
watchful expression, to be found in the eyes of say-
ages, or of men who haye had to liye for years in the
midst of constant danger, yet the cast of his feat-
ures is curiously immobile, and seldom expresses the
least emotion or interest in anything liying or dead.
Nat Worsley began life on his own account at eleyen
years old. His mother died when he was six, and for
fiye years afterwards he was the companion of his
father — a sheep-man of some wealth. This was in the

10 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

old frontier days before the Civil War, about wliicli
life people nowadays know little. Frontiersmen are
always silent and uncommunicative folk, and so liard
was the life and rough the fare then, that travellers in
search of information went elsewhere to find it. In
Nat's eleventh year the Comanches came down, and far
and wide rose the smoke of burning homesteads and
the shrieks of tortured men. One day Worsley's
ranche was attacked, and after a sharp struggle — the
boy behaving under fire like a veteran of ten cam-
paigns — the place was taken, and within twenty-four
hours Nat became the adopted son of the chief by
whose hand his father died.

Five years passed. The boy lived, even thrived,
under the training of his foster-father, who loved
him and taught him everything he knew. All this
time Nat never saw a white face nor heard a word
of English spoken. But he never forgot the night
his father died ; and as he grew older the determi-
nation to make his escape grew also. At sixteen he
contrived to realise his ambition, and falling into
the hands of Texan horse-breeders, worked his way
back to the place of his birth in Southern New
Mexico, picking up his own language, which he
had forgotten, on the way. Here he took service

ox THE TRAIL. 11

as herder with one John Denayer, who had known
his father, and worked so well that in five years
more his master took him into partnership. A
year later Denayer died, leaving Xat part of his
property.

All this time the boy had been gradually emerging
from the half-savage condition to which his training
in the Indian camp had reduced him. John Denayer
taught him to read and Avrite, and Mrs. Denayer, a
native of St. Louis, told him a great deal about
tOAvn life and the world in the East beyond the
plains, and lent him books, which he had eagerly
devoured. The outcome of all this was that when
Mrs. Denayer, after her husband's death, returned
to her relations in the East, Xat decided to follow
her ; see something of the world that men had made,
and complete his education. So, in the good old-
fashioned way, he had packed his worldly posses-
sions into a wagon, and hiring one man to help
him, set his face eastward and started upon the long-
journey over the Santa Ye trail.

His plans were to sell his stock when he could
find a good market for them, and tlien hasten on by
train to A'isit Mrs. Denayer in St. Louis.

He was now more than half-wav across. Another

12 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

month, and Seckersburg, where he hoped to sell the
sheep, would be reached. Most young men under
such circumstances would have been eager and hope-
ful. Not so Nat. So deeply had the weariness of
his many hardships and long years of toil entered
into his being, that he liad no mental buoyancy left
to hope for anything. He dreaded, with the shrink-
ing of a wild creature, the plunge into a new Avorld,
and only took this plunge because he felt instinc-
tively that without a break in this unnatural life
of loneliness and monotony he would go mad, or,
like the man beside him, take to drink.

The fire burnt lower and lower, the pipes were
done, it was time to turn in. The campers rose
together without speaking, and laid their blankets on
the grass. They did not go to sleep at once. Bean
had a blistered foot to attend to, and Nat, with the
mechanical action of one who is performing a daily
task, knocked out, examined, and reinserted, the car-
tridges of a revolver and repeating rifle, which were
never out of his reach day or night. He had just
completed this when he heard a strange sound, and
without moving a muscle of face or body sat listen-
ing. Bean dropped the foot he was examining and
looked up. He did not attempt to listen himself.

ON THE TRAIL. 13

After a minute Nat took his rifle and pistol and
laid tliem across the blankets at his feet, drawing
his knees up to his chin and clasping them with his
hands.

" I wonder," he said musingly, as if speaking to
himself, " who this will be ? "

" What ? "

" The horseman on the trail from the east.
There's only one. I guess his horse is tired, by
the steady way his foot-ta2:)S strike. Can't you hear
it now ? "

Bean shrugged his shoulders. His worst enemy
could not accuse him of dulness of hearing, but
this was beyond his poAver. He drew on his boots
again, however, and stood u^^.

"Ah ! now I dew catch it. He ain't goin' so fast
neither. Yet he's lopin'. Tell us what it means."

"A man who has ridden far. We must stop him.
Come with me, and keep to the right of the track.
Lie down when you o-et there. We will bead him
together, but don't let go unless my shot fails.
Keep your aim well on the horse. A man doesn't
lope over the trail alone at night for nothing."

This was the last word spoken. With quick
steps the men vanished out of range of the firelight.

14 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

and not a sound betrayed tlieir whereabouts until
on the brow of the hill, faintly outlined against the
starlit sky, there came the figure of a man on
horse, riding hard.

u Pull in, _ Halt ! "

The words rang out like a pistol shot, and made
the horses near the wagon jump, wdiile the dog,
left to guard the camp, gave a deep growl of
sympathy. As for the person to Avhom they were
addressed, he Avas so much astonished that he nearly
fell off his horse in reining him in.

"Get down !"

The traveller hesitated, and settled himself in the
saddle.

'' Who are ye ?"

^'Get down!''

An emj)hasis was placed on the last word which
served its purpose well. The horseman instinc-
tively ducked his head as if to avoid a threat-
ened bullet and slid from his saddle.

"Well — here I am," he drawled, — "and there's
nothing to me, or on me, or in me — for I'm
hungrier than three bears."

" Come to our camp then, and we'll fill you up
with a square meal."

ON THE TKAIL. 15

The man gave a prodigious sigli of relief.

" That's g-ood news. ^Iv head's nioii turned sillv
with hunger, and I'm choked with thirst. Let me
eat a sup. and then you shall hear all I know. And
T have news, yes — ^ly Lord ! *'

He said the last words to himself in a lower tone,
and, the camp being reached, he slipped the saddle
off liis horse, begged some corn for him, and then
threw himself by the fire as if tired out.

In a few minutes he was devouring beans and bacon
in a way that did credit to his teeth and appetite.
Xat and Bean watched him and speculated.

He was a cowboy — that was C[uite evident. His
Ijroad felt hat with its whip-cord band, a shirt gaudily
embroidered with beads, leather riding-overalls, high-
heeled boots, in which no one could walk a mile
without danger of being lamed for life, and spurs
with rowels three inches in diameter, — proved that.
But his carriage and bearing were far from express-
ing the easy assurance generally characteristic of
men of his profession. His hands, they noticed, were
shaking as if he were recovering from a debauch ;
his face Avas a dtiU yellow, and he shuddered at
intervals as if he were suffering from ague. But
according to Western etiquette no c[uestions might

16 A SON OF THli PLAINS.

be asked until he had eaten and drunk his fill.
AVhen he had emptied his fourth cup of coffee, Nat
handed him a corn-cob pipe and a light.

"If you're through — we're ready."

The man nodded, and eagerly seized the pipe, his
fingers shaking so much that he dropped the burn-
ing wood upon his clothes and nearly set himself on
fire. He laughed at this, a feeble, forced sort of
chuckle.

"I'll be doggoned, friends, if ever I were like this
before. I'm just scared right through, 'tain't to be
denied. My nerve — why, I have no nei*ve, now.
No more'n a tenderfoot bucked on his head for the
first time. I'm clean turned, as you may say. But
then I've seen — How can I tell ye ? See here
now. One hour before sundown twenty-six boys,
myself among 'em, camped in a creek fifteen miles
east of here, and 'bout half a mile off the trail. We
was travelling partly to convoy some fine stock ; and
part to escort two gells — daughters of old man
Shelford, sheep-man, Alberquerque way — to New
Mexico. This was an hour before sundown, three,
or maybe four, hour ago. Now — " he paused, and
then went on in a hoarse whisper : —

" It Avas a pretty camp. Good water, and cotton-

ON THE TRAIL. 17

wood — quite a lot of timber. The gells was that
pleased they began walkin' down the creek, tired of
ridm' so long. We boys went to the tail wagon,
where there Avere a whiskey bar'l kept, to take a nip
'fore settlin' in for the night. We were all dry,
for the day had been dusty and hot, and so, some-
hoAY, we took two nips — or some of us did — and
we were all hangin' around anyhow — when on a
sudden there came a woman's shriek ; another, louder,
and two more sraothered-like, and then the boss, who
was on the other side of the wagon and could see
further than any, yelled out : —

"'It's a raid — Arapahoes ! Fight, ye devils, fight.
If those gells are lost, and one of you lives, I'll plug
him myself.'

" It was his last word — poor old Jeph ! A bullet
whizzed from the timber, and he fell all of a heap.
Then Ave started, every boy of us — madder than
hares. But not one had any sense after the whiskey,
and we went for 'em bald-headed in the open. And
the Arapahoes, who'd planted themselves in that
timber, cunning as death, had the easiest time you
can think of. We fought — aye — and all lie there
dead, scalped. All but me and the gells. I hap-
pened on my pony, and when I saw it were no good,
c

18 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

I lit out, and liere I am, and — that's the end,
captain."

The man stopped abruptly and covered his face
with his hands, twitching all over.

No one spoke for nearly a minute. Seb Bean's
teeth were clenched, and he Avas breathing heavily.
Nat, without any change of countenance, was look-
ing at the cowboy.

" You did not bring the women along ? " he said at
last.

The man started as if he had been bitten.

"Women? The devils attacked us for them and
our horses. The gells, I told ye, were snapped up
first pop. I were only one.''

There was another silence, broken at length by Seb
Bean, who was unable to contain his feelings any
longer, and let fly a volley of hard oaths, whether at
the Indians or at the cowboy for his desertion, or at
both, was not quite clear. The stranger turned pale.

" You can call me what you like, boss. But 'tain't
fair. What could you, or any one, ha' done ? "

He made the appeal to Nat. But Nat seemed to
hear nothing. He was staring into the fire.

"They weren't Comanches?" he said at last.

" No — no, Arapahoes. "

ON THE TRAIL. 19

" "What sized crowd '! "*

" A himdred — mebbe less ; but enough on the
surprise."

Xat nodded, and fell into his reverie until a hand
grasped his knee.

"Nat, boy," growled Bean's voice, trembling and
husky, "you've been with Injuns, and you hioiv.
Can't you see any way we might pick them girls out ?
I'd o-o anvwhere and chance all for the littlest bit of a
show at it if you could tell me how to start."

Xat laid his hand on the old man's and held it fast.

"AVait, I'm thinking."

Another silence — a long one this time. Then Xat
raised his eyes slowly and looked at the cowboy
again.

"I lived five years in Comanche camp, friend, and
I have an idea. It is not for you, Seb," pressing his
hand ; ^* I must work it out, and this man must show
me the way."

^^ What I " shrieked the cowboy, springing up ; " go
back to them demons, whose yeUs are ringing in my
ears this minute? No! I say no. You ain't seen
what I have. That old man, he knows nothing. If
those gells were my own sisters, I would not stir a
step. — Hello! what — hold up — I can't breathe."

20 A SON' OF THE PLAINS.

He had been caught hy the throat and thrown
down, his neck gripped so tightly that he dared not
struggle for fear of being choked outright.

" Save your breath and listen to me," said Nat, in
a tone that trembled a little now. " I have not hurt
you and don't wish to. But be careful, for the life
of a coward is worth nothing in this country. I don't
know the location of those Arapahoes, and you do. I
want nothing more from you. Will you refuse?
You won't if you have the heart of a cat. Get up
and tell us, but no more raving foolishness ; I can't
stand that."

The cowboy's throat Avas freed, and he rose to his
feet as he was bid, slowly. He still felt the grip of
Nat's fingers, and before he spoke rubbed his neck
vigorously and groaned. Then he looked long and
earnestly at the men. There was no resentment in
his face.

" Are you re'elly going ? " he said at last.

"Yes."

''Ah, we-el — I — I'll be with ye. Now that's
truth."

He laughed the careless cowboy's laugh, and held
out his hand. Nat took it, and looked at the man
keenly.

ox THE TRAIL. 21

" AYliat does tins mean — are you foolino-? "

'' Foolin' I " He laughed again. " Look here,
boss, I ahi't so terrible wise, but I know enough to
play a straight game with i/ou, and I stand to my
Avord, if I can't always stand fire. I mean business !
Tm glad to go there. After all, you're 'bout right.
A coward is worse trash than skunks. See now, I'll
swear." he said, becoming enthusiastic, '• to hold to
ye in this, and you may plug me through if I fail."

Nat set his teeth.

" Swear, then — with me — repeat every word, and
Seb, you be witness to his oath."

They were all on their feet now, and the fire,
revived by a kick from the old herder, blazed up for
a moment, shining brightly on the earnest faces.

" I swear," said Nat, " that I will go back u23on
this trail to save these women, so help me God."

The cowboy repeated the words in a loud voice.
He was a different person now. His eyes were
steady ; he stood firmly on his feet, the shivering
had gone.

There was a moment of deep silence after the oath
had been taken, and then Seb Bean, placing a hand
on the shoulder of each of the men, added an oath
of his own.

22 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

"And I swear to you, Nat Worsley, that if this
man breaks faith, and deserts you in your time of
need, though he go to the end of the world I will find
him out and kill him, so Jielj) me G-od.''^

CHAPTER II.

AEAPAHOE CA3IP.

A COUNCIL of Indian warriors twenty years ago
was often an impressive sight. In peace time, when
the chiefs assembled in tlieir robes of state — albeit
only blankets and feathers and furs — and the cere-
mony was conducted according to rules of the strict-
est etiquette and decorum, these councils of savages
might be set as examples which the parliaments and
congresses of civilisation would do well to study with
diligence and respect. In war time, before battle,
the sight was grander still in spite of the grotesque-
ness of the war-paint. But after battle — especially
after a victory — everything was changed, and in the
place of judicial deliberations of grave men, there
was a jabbering crowd of wildly exulting bravos,
each man so busy boasting of his own deeds and
prowess that the few chiefs anxious to get business
done had a hard and thankless task.

23 ^ • •

24 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

The Arapahoes, this night, were no exception to
the rule. Twenty-five white men had they killed ;
and for booty they could count forty good horses,
an extensive camp outfit of provisions and whiskey,
and, best of all, two white women.

So the gallant redskins made merry. They ate
the meat, the bacon, and the bread, and every scrap
of food cooked and raw that they could find ; then
they drank the whiskey, then they set the wagons
on fire and danced until they were nearly mad,
and lastly they thronged to the council fire and
squatted there to decide in full conclave assembled
upon the fate of the captive women.

A tall chief, grey-haired, and yet still upright and
full of vigour, rose first to address them. This
was Long-tailed Dog, principal war-chief of the
nation. He made a long speech which was listened
to in respectful silence — a strong proof of his influ-
ence, and of the self-control possessed by Indians
even when they are drunk, for Long-tailed Dog was
not a man of few words.

The last sentences of his harangue were as fol-
lows: —

" I have now spoken all my words. Shall the
women be made squaAvs of the nation ? Shall they

ARAPAHOE CAMP. 25

be kept until good money is -paid for them by
the whites, or will the young men cbaw lots to-
night—"

He got no further. Such a fierce and unanimous
hum of assent to tlie last proposition rose on every
side that Long-tailed Dog, with the wisdom drawn
from experience, sat down there and then without
finishing his sentence.

Up leapt one of the younger chiefs, and with a
few impassioned words carried his audience away.
Fierce yells came from every side. The men started
to their feet, and so great became the clamour that
even Long-tailed Dog tried in vain to make himself
heard. The braves were beyond all authority now.
Two thi^ew doT\TL their arms to drag the captives
to the front. A regiment of troops could not have
saved them. But at this moment above the shrieks
and yells there came a long-drawn and j^eculiar cry,
and every Indian started as if he had been shot.
Xone were so drunk as not to be able to recognise
that sound. Xot one was so brave as not to feel
a cold chill of dread and forebodino\ Ao-ain came

O O

the cry, this time close at hand, and a stranger,
thrusting unceremoniously aside some braves who
were in his Avav, strode into the centre of the coun-

26 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

cil, and stood tliere looking about liim with the
haughty bearing of a master.

The clamour had ceased. For a moment the cap-
tives were forgotten, and a profound silence fell upon
the furious crowd.

There was nothing miraculous in this. For the
cry had been the war-whoop of the Comanches —
more dreaded by the Arapahoes than armies of
Avliite men — and the man who stood in their midst
wore the dress of a Comanche chief.

" Peace, Arapahoes," said the stranger, speaking
with an intonation which proclaimed his race more
certainly to the quick ears about him than his long
head-dress of eagle's feathers had done to their eyes.
''I am alone."

A change passed over the faces of his listeners.
There was a reaction in their feelings, and some even
cocked their rifles insolently and presented them
with a coarse threat at the Comanche's head.

At this, he became a different being. With mar-
vellous quickness he seized the weapon of the
nearest man, wrested it from his grasp, and bring-
ing down the rifle-butt with great force upon his
head, felled him to the ground. Then he threw the
rifle away, and folding his arms, looked scornfully

ARAPAHOE CA:MP. 27

at the faces wliicli now crowded tlireateningiy around
him.

'' Arapahoe dogs I Is this your greeting to a
friend. Beware, pigs ! Though Young AVolf is
alone, vet if his head is but sino-ed by the heat of
your fires, every hair that he loses will be paid for
by an Arapahoe life. Take care I "

He laughed as he spoke, and tlie faces of the
younger braves about him became contorted with
fury. But the chiefs were of a very different way
of thinking. Led by Long-tailed Dog they sur-
rounded the stranger ; courteously gave him wel-
come to the camp, and inquired affectionately after
the health of his friends.

Young Wolf dropped his sneering tone at once.

" Long-tailed Dog speaks as a father. I have
come in peace. Listen, my Arapahoe brothers, for
I have a message from Spotted Snake, the great
father of my nation, who with live hundred braves "
— these words he spoke with great distinctness and
deliberation — " lies twenty miles to the north, on
the Small Fork River. He sends me to you with
great news."

Young AVolf paused here ; and every Indian in
the council became as still as a mouse.

28 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

" But," lie continued, " before I speak you the
words I have brought with me, I would tell the
joy I feel at your great deeds to-night. You have
many white scalps and horses, besides other things.
This is good news for me to bear to my nation.
I will now give the words of Spotted Snake."

He paused again. No one spoke or stirred, but
the speaker's practised eye could read uneasiness in
every face as he recounted their spoils.

"The White men have come to offer us promises
of land, and many good things if we Avill give
them peace on this trail. We think this is good,
but we give no answer to the Whites until the
Arapahoe nation has spoken. Those are the words
of Spotted Snake. And this morning as the sun
rose, your White Bear and Little Owl rode into
our camp, and wait now for Long-tailed Dog to
join them. That is my news. But, Arapahoes, I
have yet words to speak of my own. Listen."

His tone had changed. He spoke again as one
of a dominant race.

" You have taken from the Whites two of their
women. Do no harm to them. My nation wish
for peace with White men. If these women are
hurt, not a chief of your nation will live five days."

ARAPAHOE CA3IP. 29

He looked round him defiantly, expecting a yell
of dissent. But there was no sound. The young
men kept a sullen silence, and the chiefs looked
askance at one another. At length Long-tailed
Dog stepped forAvard and advised compliance with
the request of ''our good brother."' — Xo one re-
sponded, but no one disputed his words, and when
he made a sign that the council was broken u^o,
the men separated into small groups and slowly
moved off to their respective camp-fires.

Long-tailed Dog now entered into a long con-
versation with the Comanche. By the time it was
over it was nearly midnight, and the old chief
proposed that they should go to rest. The wily
Long-tailed Dog had placed his blankets near the
women in case of accidents, but wily as he was, he
was not aware how careful Young Wolf had been
to ascertain this fact before he consented to sleep
with him.

The place where the Arapahoes had camped was
two miles south of the trail, on the banks of a river,
where a struggling plantation of dwarf cottonwood
and locust trees gave them shelter and cover. On
a broad meadow to the eastward the horses were
feeding, while beyond them, forming a cordon

30 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

round the whole camp, was a line of scouts to
prevent any clanger of surprise.

Long-tailed Dog led the way at a brisk pace, the
Comanche keeping a yard or two behind, ajDparently
out of respect, in reality to examine unobserved the
main features of the camp. When the old chief
turned to speak, however, his companion was looking
stolidly before him.

" See, friend, here are the paleface girls. You
will not wonder, now, that my young men were
warm in their words. These white women are as
fair as the morning sun."

The old man looked very keenly under his brows
at the Comanche while he spoke, as if half suspecting
that he had private ambitions of his own in this
direction.

He was reassured, however, by the absolute indif-
ference of manner Avith which the stranger looked
upon the prisoners. After one careless glance Young
Wolf yawned and turned his back upon the women,
and asked where he might rest.

Meanwhile the movements of the chiefs were
watched with painful eagerness by the captives. No
harm had come to them as yet, and they were too
ignorant of Indian ways to feel more than a vague

ARAPAHOE CAMP. 31

formless dread of what might happen in course of
time. But when two Indians came so near, and,
after a rude stare, rolled themselves in blankets a few
yards away, it was a different thing altogether. For
a time the men conversed in whispers, then one, —
the fiercer-looking and younger of the two — drew a
flask or bottle of some kind from his pocket, from
which flask the other took a long and eager pull. Im-
mediately afterwards both men lay down and seemed
to sleep soundly.

The girls were far too apprehensive to follow their
example. Xow and then they talked in whispers of
the future, and how, if the Indians demanded a ran-
som, they could communicate with their father. But
whether they talked to one another, or sat in silence,
— the camp-fires growing dimmer as the minutes
passed and the sounds of excited braves dying away
into heavy slumber after their debauch, — they never
took their eyes off the Indians sleeping at their
feet.

Two hours passed, and the camp was still. Even
the girls began to get drowsy, and in a few minutes
might have slept ; when all at once one of the
figures by the fire moved, and the girls clung to one
another in speechless terror. The younger of the

32 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

two Indians had risen from his bed and was crawl-
ing towards them, now on his hands and knees, now
close to the gronnd like a snake. He came foot by
foot, so slowly that the suspense was maddening.
But the girls sat still, white and breathless, too ter-
rified to scream. One had hidden her face on the
breast of her sister, unable to bear the sight ; the
other, with lips firmly set, never removed her eyes
from the creeping form of the man.

He was close to them now, and raising himself until
he rested on one knee, he looked round the camp. All
was dark, except for the faint glow here and there
of a dying fire. Slowly he turned to the girls again,
until his face was but a few inches from the one who
still kept her presence of mind.

" I am a white man," he whispered. " Hush !
keep still. This dress is a disguise. Follow me,
and I will get you away. Will you? Speak softly."

He saw her eyes brighten and her lips quiver.
She drew a long trembling breath, and whispered
back, —

"Who are you?" She was evidently incredulous
about his white blood.

" Nat Worsley, sheep-man. New Mexico. A cowboy
brought news of you. He is Avaiting Avith horses."

ARAPAHOE CAMP. 33

A change came into lier face. ''We will come
gladly. But mv sister has fainted."

This was a^^•kwa^d.

"Bring her to while I see if the way is clear.
Tell her — tell her that if she had nerves like yours
there would be no dano-er at all."'

He crept away into the darkness and vanished.

The recovery of the insensible girl was soon ac-
complished, and at tlie word -rescue" she became
all animation.

But when many minutes passed, — to the girls it
seemed like hours. — and he did not come ao-ain. the
one who had fainted lost faith.

"Maizie, you must have been dreaming. I don't
believe I really fainted at all."

" Hush, dear ; we must not talk. I hope no harm
has happened to him. Oh. look I there he is ! "

With slow, measured movements a figure closely
wrapped in a blanket glided up to the nearest camp-
fire and warmed its hands. It stood there motionless
nearly a minute, and the girls saw that by a move-
ment of its feet, it was scattering the embers of the
fire and coverino- them over with earth. In a verv
short time the spot was in complete darkness, and
Maizie felt his breath in her face.

34 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

"Are you ready? Don't speak; just stand up and
hold out your hands."

The girls obeyed, and as they felt the clasp of
strong fingers, a feeling of confidence and hope
warmed their hearts. Nat, however, gave them little
time for reflection. He thrust the end of a rolled
blanket into Maizie's hand and whispered, " Pass
this to your sister. She must hold it tightly while
you take the middle and I lead. If you are scared
or wish to stop, give the blanket a jerk, and I shall
know what it means. But don't speak or cry out —
not the faintest whisper. Now ! "

He began to walk on very slowly, the girls follow-
ing and holding the blanket as drowning men clutch
at a rope. As they proceeded the pace grew brisker.
Sometimes they wound in and out of trees which
their clothes brushed against ; at others they passed
over tliick grass, by camp-fires, near which lay dark
figures buried in sleep. But they never paused an
instant until the breeze which blows at night over
the open prairie cooled their heated faces.

Here Nat stopped, and touched their hands re-
assuringly.

"Our first danger is over. We are out of the
camp. But the scouts have to be passed. Rest

ARAPAHOE CAMP. 35

here while I prospect again. I will spread the
blanket for you — so ; now lie clown and pull it
over your faces. Don't move until you hear my
voice again. If a scout sees you, he will take
you to he two warriors sleeping out."

His voice ceased, and the girls were alone once
more.

CHAPTER III.

BESCUED.

The girls lay still as tliey were bidden for fif-
teen minutes, wrapped up in the blanket. But
human endurance has limits, and on this hot night
it was so much like premature burial that at the end
of the quarter of an hour, Bel, the younger of the
sisters, despite a remonstrance from her companion,
extricated her head for a moment and took a long
breath of fresh air. To her horror she saAV a pair
of shining eyes within a few inches of her face, and
something cold and clammy touched her forehead.
This was more than the excitable girl could bear,
and she threw aside the blanket with a suppressed
scream. Whereupon a furry body fawned upon her
with reassuring whines. It was a dog. At the same
moment Nat came up at a run. The dog sprang to
meet him with a whine of joy.

"Down, Shep!" the girls heard him say in a deep

RESCUED. 37

whisper wliich made the animal cower at his feet ;
"you have done for us, boy." Then to the girls as
cahnly as though nothing had happened, —

. " Get up, please, and give me the blanket. They
Avill have heard you, and we must run as long as
you have any breath. The horses are near. Shep,
follow and guard."

The girls obeyed with feverish haste, and set off
at their utmost speed, holding Nat's hands so as not
to be se2)arated in the darkness, the dog trotting
behind, snuffing the air uneasily as he ran. This
violent exertion, however, soon began to tell upon
the girls, tired and overwrought as they were, and
before long, Maizie, the weaker of the two, stumbled,
caught her foot in a prairie-dog hole, and fell on
her face. Nat said nothing, but picked her up and,
carrying her in his arms as if she were a baby,
ran on, faster than before. A few minutes later
and Bel's breath failed her.

" I cannot run any more," she panted out, with a
sob. " Oh, what shall I do ? "

Nat pulled up.

" Stay here, and I will come back for you. Shep
— lie down !"

He was gone, and Bel was left witli the dog. For

38 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

a moment slie felt the relief of the rest, but the next
horrible fears seized her of being pounced upon
by the Indians and carried away alone to unknown
tortures, and she had to press her teeth together
and clench her hands with all her might to keep
back an almost irresistible inclination to cry out.

Her only comfort was Shep. She made a move-
ment to caress him — then shrank back in dismay.
The animal was quivering all over, and even in the
darkness she could see his teeth gleam white. As
she touched him he dashed forward with a low
growl, and she heard the grunt of an Indian, the fall of
a heavy body, and the worrying snarl of a dog when
he bites to the bone. The girl, nearly beside herself,
sprang to her feet and was about to run wildly away,
when a figure glided up, a familiar voice said, "Keep
still," and she knew that her protector had returned.
She dropped on her knees and listened. Again came
the soft thud of something heavy falling on the grass,
followed this time by a ghastly rattling sound, and
then a silence that was worst of all. The outline of
an Indian's head-dress now towered above her, a hand
was laid on her shoulder, and she shrieked aloud.

"It is me," said the voice again, and Bel felt her-
self lifted from the ground, and knew that her

RESCUED. 39

rescuer was running at headlong speed downhill.
A few more breathless minutes and she heard ]Maizie's
voice, and kncAV that she was safe. But, now, only a
few hundred yards away there came a loud, shrill
cry — the call of the Arapahoe scout, followed
almost instantaneously by a chorus of yells, as the
whole encampment awoke to a man.

Nat spoke to Maizie. '^ Can you Loth ride ? "

" Oh yes — anything I "

Xo more words were needed. In a twinkling the
girls were lifted u^Don the ponies which the cowboy
had been holding, and the next minute all were speed-
ing away for the east at a swift gallop, Xat leading
the way. This wild race lasted an hour, and then
Nat pulled in, and all stood still, panting, ^^•hile he
listened.

"It is all right," he said quietly, swinging himself
again into the saddle; ''we may now go easily."

Two hours afterwards they reached the camp, and
were received by Seb Bean with a shout of wel-
come.

The dawn Avas breaking, and for the first time they
could see one another distinctly. A sudden shyness
fell upon them all. Nat, without speaking, placed
his guests by the fire, and set the cowboy to pre-

40 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

paring breakfast, then bolted into the wagon to strip
off his disguise. Little had he dreamed when he
picked it up six months before, to take as a curiosity
to St. Louis, Avhat purpose it would serve so soon.

When he reappeared, he had donned a suit of grey
buckskin — the best clothes he had — a cotton shirt
instead of a grey flannel one, and a new hat with
a stiff brim.

No one was more astonished at such a chauQfe than
the old herder. The girls, who had made friends with
Seb at once, and were helping, in spite of all he could
do or say, to cook the breakfast, were so much amused
at the blank expression of his face, that they sur-
prised Nat by their brightness. He had expected to
find them cowering disconsolately over the fire, and
had perplexed himself greatly as he dressed to think
of some way in which he could lessen their anxiety
and awaken enough confidence in himself to make a
scheme he had thought of acceptable to them.

And now — lo, they greeted him with smiles, and
so far from cowering over the fire had aided Seb so
well that breakfast was ready and waiting. But
Nat's surprise at the cheerfulness of his guests was
nothing to Seb's astonishment at Nat. If he were
puzzled at the change Nat had made in his outward

RESCUED. 41

appearance, lie was absolutely '• dumf oimdered " at
what happened afterwards.

It had always been a grief to him. when he began
to grow fond of Xat, to notice the tacitui-nity of the
lad and the almost Indian immobility of his face and
manner. He had remarked that strangers who met
him were unfavourably impressed, and had wondered
what would become of him in the East, where such
ways were more foreign and unacceptable than in
the silent "West.

After to-day he troubled himself on that score no
more.

For Xat talked. All through breakfast, which
lasted three times as long as such a meal liad ever
lasted before, he never stopped talking except to
listen to the observations of his visitors. He apolo-
gised for the rough fare he had to offer them, and
for the lack of spoons and forks. He talked about
Xew Mexico, and found that he had tramped through
the county where their father lived, and had heard
his name. He did not touch once upon past dangers
or future contingencies. His object was to make
them feel at ease ; for after the first greeting he
detected a strained, anxious expression on the face
of the elder o-irl. and noticed that the laughter of

42 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

the younger was on the verge of bacoming hys-
tericaL

It is an instinct with some men to know what to
do under such circumstances. If Nat had been asked
afterwards to repeat what he had said, he coukl not
have done it to save his life. But he accomplished
his purpose, and by the time that Seb, with an
awkward duck of his head, and mumbled excuse,
strode off at a seven-leagued-boot pace to bring his
sheep up to the trail, the girls, though still pale and
tired, were much more tranquil, and they talked to
Nat as freely as if they had known him all their
lives.

Nat had given whispered instructions to Seb in a
pause of the conversation, and it only remained now
to sound his guests. He did this in a few blunt
words, his fluency of speech suddenly deserting him.
But he had won their confidence, and might use
what words he pleased. In the space of ten minutes
everything was arranged. The cowboy was to start
immediately for the west, bearing letters from the
girls to their father, telling him of what had hap-
pened, and that they would travel to Seckersburg
under Nat's escort, making their journey back to
New Mexico by coach. It was a choice of evils.

RESCUED. 43

The Arapalioes, searching far and wide for their lost
captives, might very probably keep a watch upon the
trail and stop the wagon that day. At the same
time the girls were not strong enough to endure
hard riding westw^ard, nor were they at all willing
to undertake it under the cowboy's protection, while
even if it had been possible for Xat to turn back
with his sheep, so slowly does a flock travel, and
so fast do Indians ride, that there would be even
less safety in that course than to push eastwards.

By the time the sun had risen an hour, the cow-
boy had departed west with outward regret and in-
ward joy : the sheep, under Seb's care, were half a
mile on the trail travelling briskly, while Nat, hav-
ino' made his ladies as comfortable as he could in the
wagon among the stores, had broken up his camp
and was also well upon the way.

All conversation had died a natural death. The
younger INIiss Shelford almost immediately fell asleep,
while the elder, seating herself, for reasons of her own,
so that she could watch the driver's face, was pon-
dering upon the adventures of the preceding twenty-
four hours, and possible dangers in the future.

;Maizie Shelford was a reserved and thoughtftil
girl. Careless observers, impressed with Bel's soft

44 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

brown eyes, tall, well-developed figure, and constant
animation of spirits, scarcely saAV her quiet sister, and
would hardly believe that she was the elder by two
years. Those accustomed to look below the surface,
however, remarked that while Maizie's stature was
insignificant compared to Bel's, her face less expres-
sive as a rule, and her manner uiidemonstrative, yet
her large eyes looked with a keen directness into all
things ; though she seldom spoke, the Avords she said
were always to the point ; and that when she smiled,
her face held a beauty of its own in spite of irregu-
larity of feature.

But there were not many people who saw these
things ; for the sisters were seldom apart, and in
Bel's presence it was Maizie's custom to say as little
as possible, from a feeling keen even to morbidness
that she was dull and uninteresting and must be sec-
ond, always, to her brilliant young sister. It must
be added in justice to Bel that she never intended
this to be so. There was perfect love and under-
standing between them, and to make any slighting
allusion to Maizie in Bel's hearing would be a
blunder that no man or Avoman Avould ever commit
twice. But people formed tlieir opinions neverthe-
less, and the feeling of the girls' friends Avhen they

RESCUED. 45

decided to leave St. Louis, where tliey had been
brought up since cliiklhood, to take care of their
father in Xew ^Mexico, was nearly unanimous.
Maizie ought to go, — it was her duty, for poor Mr.
Shelf ord was alone, — but for Bel to throw herself
away in that horrid wild country was something
almost sinful. It was a social catastrophe.

In the stress of that terrible night in the Ara-
pahoe camp the position of the sisters had been
reversed, and IN'at would have laughed if any one
had suggested that Bel was the elder sister. The
circumstances of his life had made him more observ-
ant than most young men of the little things that
make up character, and he smiled as he urged on his
horses, to see this pale little woman keenly watching
him, while her sister slept like a tired child.

Nat was right. Maizie, though very grateful for
his ser^^ces, and confident that the only course was
to place herself and Bel under his protection, was
yet very much alive to the fact that his character
and future intentions were entirely unknown to
her ; and Maizie was one of those people who do not
easily trust a stranger.

Therefore she refused to allow herself to go to
sleep, though she sorely wanted to do so ; and sit-

46 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

ting stiffly on a sack of green coffee-berries, her
back supported by a large keg in which Nat kept a
store of drinking water in case of need, she took
mental note of the face before her.

It was hard, almost forbidding, now that it was
in repose. The lips were habitually pressed together,
and the corners of the mouth drawn down, giving a
certain sardonic expression, as if in his o2)inion the
world were a poor sort of place and the people in it
mostly fools.

Maizie remembered seeing much the same look in
the face of the friend of her father's who was killed
by the Arapahoes. It might be the characteristic
expression of Western men. If so, she thought, she
did not care for Western men. His nose was slightly
hooked, and, with the brightness of his eyes, gave
him a peculiarly alert look. Maizie liked this ; and
wdien he smiled, she liked the expression of his eyes,
but the moment he became grave again they were
cold, watchful, and repellent.

Just now they were especially watchful, and from
speculations upon Nat's character Maizie began to
speculate upon his thoughts, and with a little inter-
nal shiver recollected that at any moment they might
be met by Indians, furious at the escape of their

RESCUED. 47

prisoners, and eager to gain compensation by vio-
lence upon the next \yliite man tliey saw. The near-
ness of clanger gave a new turn to her reflections,
and with a sudden revulsion of feeling Maizie remem-
bered that by assuming the responsibility of their
escort, this man she had been so sharply judging
had incurred a most fearful risk. Yet he had not
allowed the slightest indication of this fact to
appear. On the contrary, he had said it was a
great favour on their part to consent to come with
him.

The day wore on. It was nearly noon and very
hot. Bel still slept, and even Maizie found herself
beginning to nod drowsily. Nat alone was wide
awake. His hard training and present anxiety were
sure safeguards against sleepiness, and not a prairie
dog scuttling to and fro on business, nor an inch of
the horizon line to the north and west, escaped his
eyes.

The time came at length when Nat, seeing what
he had been expecting to see, laid his hands on tlie
reins and pulled up. Maizie roused herself with a
start, and saw him standing on the footboard, shading
his eyes with his hands. Nat's face Avas as quiet as
usual w^hen he turned toward her, but she noticed

48 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

that the lines about his mouth had hardened and
deepened. He looked as if he had suddenly grown
older.

"Is it — Indians?" she whispered, speaking under
her breath so as not to awaken Bel.

"A scout is lying on the hill."

"What can we do?"

In spite of her courage and confidence Maizie was
as white as a sheet. Nat's voice became as tender as
a woman's.

" There is no danger yet. Hide yourself and
your sister under these felts and blankets, so that
they'll find nothing but stores if they peep in.
Remember the risk is not so great as in their camp.
Cheer up ! we shall pull through."

" But they will take everything as they did yester-
day."

" I think not. My outfit is not worth enough to
tempt them as long as they do not see you. Quick,
here they come. Ah, they have split up into search-
ing parties, for there are only twenty here. That is
right — the sack of flour at her feet looks well ; and
the water barrel hides her head. Leave it to me,
now, and lie down. I'll lay the sheepskins across
you. That makes it natural. Hand me my shot-

r.EscuED. 49

gmi — take care of tlie triggers, she's loaded, both
l)arrels. AVill yuur sister wake ? that is tlie point.
If there's a cliance of it you had better rouse her
first. I leave it to your judgment."

While he Avas speaking, Nat deftly turned and
twisted the coverings in the wagon, until every
trace of the girls' presence was concealed. He was
about to return to his place when Maizie raised her
head, and whispered, —

" You must give me a knife; they shall never
take us alive again."

Nat started, and took from his pocket a tiny
five-chambered pistol.

"Use this if I drop, but not while I'm alive. I
will not leave the wagon, and if there's no hope
you will hear me say 'fire.' Then — let go, just
below the heart. It is double-action — take care."

Maizie took the pistol and their hands met. A
deep flush mounted to Xat's forehead, and for a
moment he looked at her with moist eyes. ]\Iaizie
looked back at him trustingly like a child.
''I will be very careful.'" she said softly, and
smiled. That smile will abide with Xat and haunt
his dreams to his dying day.

All was over in an instant; and Xat SA^iing back

50 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

to Ids seat and Maizie disappeared under lier blanket.
The Indians were there.

To Maizie, though she had many things to suffer
in after days, nothing, in point of sheer horror and
sickening suspense, was ever worse than the time
that followed. She was able to hear distinctly all
that went on, and, buried under ill-smelling sheep-
skins and heavy blankets, suffered agonies of acute
helpless suspense. First came the soft tread of the
galloping unshod Indian ponies ; the jar of the
wagon as Nat, who had resumed his journey, pulled
up his excited, snorting team. Then they were sur-
rounded and the crisis had come. There was a
deep silence, and Maizie's heart beat so heavily that
she was afraid it would wake Bel. It was a relief
when she heard one of the Indians address Nat in
Spanish. Maizie's childhood had been passed among
Mexicaiis, and she remembered enough Spanish to
understand what followed.

" Are you sheep-man ? " she heard the Indian say.

" Yes, and alone."

"Your wagon very big for one."

" I come a long way, and carry much food."

"Open wagon, and let me see your food."

Maizie's heart nearly stopped beating altogether.

RESCUED, 51

''What is that for?"

" "We have lost somethinof. and look in all wagr-
ons on the road to-day. Open, quick I "

" Very well," rejoined Nat in a very slow, de-
liberate tone. "You may look, and AVLdcome. But
see here, amigo," his voice deepened now, and
Maizie distinctlv heard the click of the dos^-heads as
he cocked his shot-gun, "I have no stolen goods
in my outfit, and I am not going to have my things
thrown about, not for all the Arapahoes alive. So,
look in as much as you like — but keej) yoiu' hands
to yourselves."

The only reply the Indian made was a grunt, and
then the wagon creaked and shook beneath his
weight. At this precise moment Bel began to
breathe less regularly as if she were on the point
of awakening. ]Maizie's suffering, now, cannot be
described. She kncAv that the Indian's sharp eyes
were searching every nook and cranny, and that the
slightest movement would be utter ruin. She kept
trying to remember where she had put her hat.
The sight of that would be enough to betray every-
thing, for she had worn it when taken prisoner the
day before. The air grew hotter, the sheepskins
more stifling, and Maizie felt as if her brain were

62 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

turning. A fear oppressed her now that she would
move herself — Bel was sleeping still. Suddenly
everything grew dark. She heard afar off the sound
of voices, there was a rushing in her ears, and then
— a blank. Human nature could bear no more, and
Maizie had fainted.

But the danger was over. The Indian who
looked in was satisfied with his inspection, and the
rest, impressed by Nat's stoical calmness of manner,
and well aware of the qualities of a shot-gun at
close quarters, after a few words together departed
in a northwesterly direction, disappeared behind a
roll of prairie, and were seen no more.

The removal of the skins and blankets and a few
drops of water sprinkled on her forehead soon
brought Maizie round, and the wagon resumed its
journey at a brisk pace. That evening a pleasant
camping-ground was taken up on the shores of a
tributary of the Arkansas River, and after an un-
disturbed night the travellers started on their way
the next morning refreshed, and in cheerful spirits.

CHAPTER IV.

"KOAD AGENTS."

The journey in a wagon over prairie is very
miicli like a long sea voyage. In both cases there
is no change of surroundings from clay to day, and
people have so much of one another's company that
the most distant acquaintance at the beginning
ripens into intimate friendship before the end, and
they seem to know more of one another in a few
days than under other circumstances would be the
case in a year.

In a week after the night in the Arapahoe camp
Nat learnt all the family history of Maizie and Bel,
and they had heard as much as he could tell them
of himself. In two weeks they were calling one
another by their christian names, and were as
brother and sisters.

By this time the outskirts of civilization were
reached and the talk round the camp-hre in the

54 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

evenings changed from reminiscences of the past to
plans for the future. A great change had taken
place in Nat's ideas. St. Louis and Eastern civiliza-
tion were all very well, and might be realised some
day, but for the present they were out of the
question. The reason why Mr. Dan Shelford had
objected to his daughters going by stage through
Southern Colorado, and had insisted upon the jour-
ney over the trail, was a dread of " road agents " or
coach-robbers, who were very active in that part of
the country. This being so, Nat felt that it was
his duty to see these adopted sisters of his safely
under their father's protection. He therefore de-
cided to sell his sheep at Seckersburg and take the
stage for Chico Springs, Calumet Co., New Mexico.
After that — well — he might go to St. Louis or
elsewhere. That did not seem to matter much just
now. The great point was to do his duty.

And the girls, after some faint protest on Maizie's
part but none at all on Bel's, thankfully accepted
the offer of escort. So the question was settled to
the satisfaction of everybody except poor Shep,
whom Nat decided to give to Seb Bean.

On the fourteenth day of August, just four weeks
from the evening in the Two Butte Creek, Shep

" ROAD AGENTS." 55

corralled in the slieep-pens of Seckersburg tlie flock
he had Ijrought so far, and followed his master up
the principal street of the city with melancholy
foreboding, for Shep had a prophetic soul, and
watched him purchase clothes of a quality no sheep-
dog of the plains in those days had ever seen in his

life.

Seckersburg City was a place of importance in
1873 — more important than it is now. It was then
the spot where Western stockmen from New :\Iexico,
Northern Texas, and even from Colorado, brought
the produce of their labours and met Iniyers from
Chicago, St. Louis, and elsewhere. At the present
time the railway enables producers to find a sale in
their own territories, or to ship flocks and herds in
the cars direct to Chicago ; and the glory of Seck-
ersburg has departed. It has shared the fate of
manv a town in England forty years ago, when
coaches went out and railways came in.

In 18T3, at this time of the year, it would have
been hard to find a brisker place than Seckersburg.
There were houses of wood and houses of adobe (Mexi-
can brick), shops in abundance with enormous sign-
boards, broad sandy streets, with the inevitable '' side-
walk "'of roughly laid phmks, over which passed all

56 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

day long a constant stream of persons of every shade
of colour, while outside the town, and dominating
all else, Avas a net-work of corrals for horses, cattle,
and sheep.

Such a place as this was very strange to Nat and not
at all pleasant. The noise of many tongues and the
constant rattle of vehicles was wearing to his nerves,
though he would not OAvn it. The girls, also,
though thankful to sleep once more in a bed and
able to make good the ravages — too terrible for a
masculine pen to describe — sustained by their ward-
robe, were very glad when Nat on the third day
announced with unusual animation of manner that
he had concluded a bargain for his sheep, wagon,
and horses for ^GOOO, cash down, and was ready to
book seats in the Las Animas coach two days hence.

It was an extraordinary stroke of luck ; but there
were many things in Nat's favour. Bel, who had
the knack of making friends wherever she might be,
had told the landlady of the hotel the whole story
of their adventures, and before noon the next day
old Seb Bean was waylaid by the editor of the
" Seckersburo^ Alarum " and turned inside out before
he knew it. The next morning articles appeared
which curdled the blood of the surrounding i)opula

" ROAD AGE^'T5. O .

tion for a month to come, and would have proved
a bad busmess to that editor if Nat had been
aware of half of what was set forth.

Tlie immediate effect, however, of all this was
to enliance the value of his property, especially
as the sheep were in far better condition, thanks
to Seb Bean's excellent driving, than most of the
flocks on sale. But no advantage is without its
seamy side, and the notoriety which put at least
81500 into Nat's pocket very nearly caused him to
lose evervthinof.

Most men lose their heads a little when am-thing
of this sort happens to them. Those who do not
are liable to disregard too much the new circum-
stances in which they find themselves placed. Xat
was one of the latter. Thousfh wherever he went
people flattered and caressed him. though the hotel-
keeper, when he heard he was leaving so soon, ofl:ered
liim free quarters for a month. Xat went about as
unconcernedly as the most insignificant man in town.
Xor did he think twice about the possible conse-
quences of the canvassing abroad of his affaii*s, finan-
cial and otherwise, and before the seats in the Western
stage were booked, all Seeker sburg knew that at 6
o'clock in the morning of the ISth of August Xat

58 A SON OF TFIE PLAINS.

was starting for New Mexico with 86000 on his
person, having refused with a frontiersman's sim-
plicity the offer of the bank which paid him the money
to give liim a draft payable at their bank in Trinidad,
Southern Colorado.

There was another reason besides ignorance for
Nat's want of caution in this matter. He was in
great anxiety about his old herder. For poor Seb,
after superhuman efforts to keep sober the first day,
yielded on the second without a struggle, and was
discovered by Nat, after a long search, drinking
brandy undiluted among a crowd of saloon bummers,
who were waiting like vultures round a dying lion
to strip him of everything he possessed as soon as
the spirit had done its work.

Out of this crowd Nat dragged him Avith some
difficulty, and at considerable risk to himself ; and,
seeing no other way of dealing with the man, took
him to his own room at the hotel, put him to bed,
and locked him in.

The next day Seb expressed great repentance, but
Nat, knowing the way of drunkards, refused to let
him out of his sight for a moment. By this means
he hoped to save his old friend, for Mr. Tom Cobbett,
the buyer of the sheep, had taken a fancy to him

"ROAD AGENTS." 69

and had engaged liini to drive the flock to his ranche
fifty miles north, on the day Nat departed westward.

So Bean was kept under strict supervision until
bedtime on the last evening. That night he was to
sleep by his sheep at the other end of the town ;
Shep with him securely tied up in case of accidents.

Seb nearly took Nat in his arms when he said
good-night.

" You've been the best friend that could be, and I
swear that I'll keep from drink while I serve Cob-
bett. I knoAv that's better gratitood to you than
words 'ud be. I don' know how rightly to thank
you for all — specially that dog — he's the best I
ever see. Good-night. God bless ye, friend. I'll
be round prompt at sun-up to see the coach off to-
morrow."

Another grip of the hand and Seb went his way
to bed, Avhile Nat, after watching him a moment,
strolled back to the hotel and packed his small trunk,
and slept without a break until dawn.

Seb went to his blankets, patted Shep, who was
restless and miserable, and then lay down. But he
could not sleep. He had been drinking nothing Ijut
water and coffee for three days, and the craving for
liquor was strong upon him. He would have resisted

60 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

it, though the self-control meant torture such as no
one who has not craved for drink can conceive, had
it not been that not very far .from the corrals was
a saloon with o]3en doors, from which came the clink
of glasses and the popping of corks. This was
too much for Seb. For a long time he lay writh-
ing in an agony of desire, but at length he could
stand it no longer, and, perspiring all over, rose with
trembling limbs a beaten man.

The " saloon " was one small and dirty room.
Seb's practised eye saw at once that it was a very
queer place indeed, and he determined to be very
moderate and limit himself to two cocktails. No
one Avas in the room but the bar-keeper and two
or three sodden-looking creatures who obsequiously
made room for him. Seb ordered his cocktails in
one "long glass" and carried this away to a dark
corner, sipping at it very slowly. But dark as it
was, the sharp-eyed bar-keeper noted well the way
the old man hugged his tumbler, and before Seb
was half-way through his drink a full bottle of
whiskey had been placed uncorked as if by accident
on the table at his right hand. Seb shrank from it.

"Take it away, tain't my order," he said angrily
to the bar-keeper. But the man pretended not to

"ROAD AGENTS. 61

hear him, and the next moment a number of men
crowded in hiughing and talking, and Seb had not
the courage to repeat his remonstrance. But he had
no intention of yiekling. At first he refused to
look at the bottle at all, then, his mood changing,
he glared at it, uttering an apostrophe under his
breath.

'* You brute — would you have me ? Xo, sir, I guess
not. I guess not. I feel right and in three ticks
I walk out of here as sober — soberer, I'm sure,

than when I came in. Stand there and be to

you. You won't tempt me."

He took another sip of his cocktail and another
and a third — each more slowly than the last. He
was getting very near the end, and how long — how
verv lonof — it mio*ht be before he would taste
whiskev agj-ain. He o-lanced sidewavs at the bottle.
His eve cauo-ht the label. It was his favourite
brand. He sighed a long and heavy sigh and took
another sip. There was only enough for two more.

The room was quieter now. The men who had
just come in had seated themselves at a large table
near Seb's corner and were talking in wliispers.
They were a rough-looking set, and Seb noticed
that before they spoke a word they glanced at him

62 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

with suspicion, until reassured by a telegraphic
signal from the bar-keeper. This roused Seb's
curiosity, and he forgot for the moment the arch
enemy at his elbow, and while aj^pearing half-
asleep listened intently to all he could catch of their
conversation. At first it was too indistinct for him
to make anything of it. But before long they
became so interested that they forgot to whisper.
The first words Seb heard came from a man who
was evidently the leader of the rest. He was
young, of strong frame, a swarthy skin and black
curly hair. His eyes were light brown like a cat's
and near together, the rest of his features coarse and
rude, and, with a flat nose and thick lips, hinted at
negro blood.

Seb, who as an old frontiersman, had been
acquainted with men of the worst reputation from
Van Buren to Santa Fe, identified this man as soon
as he opened his mouth. It was Sandy Rathlee, the
most skilful and desperate of road agents. The
man was smiling maliciously, showing his teeth like
a leopard disturbed at meat.

" You boys are enough to make one die of laugh-
ing. Women — babies — ain't in it with you for
scare when you see the chance of a drop of blood.

"ROAD AGENTS." 63

This boy, I don't doubt, is quick. I ain't seen him,
but Indian lighting is smart business. Yet he's one
and we are six, A^^ith Dick on the box to make
seven. Where the risk comes in is a puzzle to
me."

"Aye, that may be. perhaps," rejoined another
man, distinguishable by having only one eye, a long
white scar across his left cheek, and no heels to his
boots. "But there's another side to it, Sandy —
blow as you will. A man with 86000 and tAvo
gells in hand ain't a lamb whose tail I'd care to try
twisting. AVe ain't no more scared than you, but
I sez and I sez again Ave must heft all our chances
beforehand. I want to hear the plan you've worked
out ; if I don't ap^orove of it you'll be five not six
to-morrow."

Sandy Rathlee's ansAver to this suggestion was a
glance that gaA'e him a still greater likeness to an
angry leopard and a liint to the speaker to remove
himself with all possible dispatch. Tlie others neither
stirred nor spoke, but two of them nodded at the
one-eyed man, who, thereupon, chuckled in an aggres-
si\e manner.

Rathlee's face changed at once. He became as mild
as a purring cat.

64 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

"We waste time, boys, fooling. Of course you
sliall heft all chances. See here: Clinter\s Ford is
the place I fixed on. It's a soft bit at tlie bottom
of a steep hill, you know it? Driver Dick will
handle his mules so that the wheels get stuck in
the sand. The passengers will be ordered out to
ease the coach, and as they come out we take
them. See ? I'll hold the Comanche myself, and
leave the tenderfeet and the two outside men to
the rest of ye. How's that, Ned?"

Ned, the one-eyed man, grunted.

'' Healthy enough, boss, the way you word it. When
it comes to doing, knots in the rope may be found.
First, him you call Comanche will have ears on his
head longer than a Jack-rabbit and will hear us
likely. If so, he'll shoot. How about their lives?"

Sandy Rathlee's face changed again. It now wore
the look of the leopard anticipating dinner.

" Kill the men, boy, and take the women away.
Dick can keep the mails, and drive on lickity-dash,
and when he gets near Las Animas swear he'd
had to drive through fire to save them. That'll
give him credit. He ain't responsible for his pas-
sengers. We are." The man laughed softly, his
laugh being re-echoed by the rest.

" ROAD AGENTS." 65

Who shall describe poor Seb Bean's condition of
mind now ?

At the first words all the whiskey he had taken
mounted to liis head until his brain seemed on
fire, and he was Avithin an ace of leaping upon
Sandy Rathlee. But luckily he had not taken
enough for this madness, and so he sat quiet,
grasping the table and trembling all over. Then
came a reaction and his one thought was to con-
ceal himself so that he miglit hear all the men's
plans. A panic seized him lest he might suddenly
be recognised as Nat's herder. The danger to
himself did not trouble him. l)ut if he were shot
the conspiracy would never be found out. The
only course he could take was to sit perfectly
still and listen and wait.

Inaction when one is in a state of suppressed
excitement is trying at the best of times. To Seb,
fearful as he was of being recognised, it was unbear-
able, and to brace his nerves he mechanically filled
his tumbler from the bottle beside him and sipped
at the liquor feverishly.

The men talked till midnight, and still Seb sat
there with averted face, listening. At length they
trooped out, casting suspicious glances at the old

66 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

mail, who now seemed to be asleep, his head pil-
lowed oil his arms, the bottle at his side half empty.

As the door closed behind them Seb rose and felt
in his pocket for money. His brain w^as reeling and
the room swayed and Avhirled about him, but he did
not believe he was drunk, for he remembered every
word spoken by the gang. He walked Avith a fairly
steady step to the bar and paid his bill. Then he
Avent out into the night. A cool Avind met him and
fanned his burning temples. He placed his hand
there and tried to think. What had he to do?
It Avas to tell Nat — Avas it Nat? Yes, tell Nat
— Avliat ? He had forgotten. Never mind, it Avould
come back to him in the morning, things ahvays
did. He Avould go to bed, Avake early, and all
would be right. With some difficulty he staggered
back to the corral, and creeping betAveen his blankets
dropped into a deep lethargic sleep.

The night passed, and the day broke bright and
unclouded. Seb slept on. The coach rattled round
to the hotel door and the passengers took their
places. The clock struck six. Driver Dick, Avho
had been chatting with the keeper of the hotel and
draAving on his gloves, swung himself into his seat.
Nat and the other "outsiders" scrambled to their

" r.OAD AGENTS." 6T

places. "All aboard" was shouted with a will, and
with a crack of tlie long-lashed whip they were off
at a hand gallop, while Seb, snoring peacefully, slept
on still. But a minute later there came a sound
within a fcAv feet of him whicli might have awakened
the dead. The howl and yell of a dog frantically
struggling to be free. At a turn of the road the
coach passed the corral and Shep saw his master's
face, and knew that all he loved in the world had
gone from him. It was well that his collar was
tight, and his strap plaited raw-hide. He strug-
gled and tore at it like a mad creature, while his
piercing, heart-rendmg cries roused half tlie town.
Seb woke at last. He sat up slowly, groaning
at a racking pain that smote liim in the forehead
as he moved, and made it throb again. Shep's
cries continued. For a minute Bean stared stupidly
at the animal, Imt the next he was on his feet,
more frantic than the dog, and was rushing bare-
headed, with shirt unbuttoned, his uncombed hair
and fiery eyes telling sad tales of his debauch —
wildly into the tOAvn.

Seckersburg was just beginning to bestir itself
and lounge on the side-walk in its shirt sleeves.
The spectacle of an old man of disreputable appear-

68 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

ance panting and gasping and asking where he conld
find the sheriff was interesting, and not only did
Seb receive ready assistance in his search, but by the
time he reached the sheriff's abode he had a score
of followers, who, to heighten the dramatic effect of
the situation, hammered and kicked at the sheriff's
door with a vigour that caused that Avorthy to open
it, cocked pistol in hand.

By this time, Seb had worked himself up to such
a pitch that instead of asking for a private interview
and telling his story within closed doors, he blurted
it out then and there. Nothing could have been
more fatal. The sheriff of Seckersburg Avas at the
best of times not quite the man of action persons in
his position ought to be. Nor had lie the quickest
of perceptions. And this morning, as a crowning
misfortune, he had risen with toothache and was in
a very bad temper. He listened perforce to Seb's
somewhat incoherent account of all he had over-
heard, but the moment the old man stopped, said
contemptuously :

"What was he doing in Killman's saloon? Would
he depose on oath that he was sober, and had
been sober since? Any one could see that he was
drunk now. As for the men described, he (the

"KOAD AGENTS." 69

sheriff) knew nothing of them and cared less. Any-
way, the coach had started and nothing conkl stop
it now ; besides, Driver Dick was a straight man,
a dead shot, and had never been boarded by road
agents before, and that was all he had to say." After
which speech bang went tlie door in Seb's face, and
he Avas left with his crowd of supporters, who reviled
him in choice language. The old herder was nearly
mad, and foaming at the lips threw himself against
the sheriff's door with a force that nearly sent it off
its hinges. The crowd cheered this, then decanqoed
to a safe distance, for the sheriff was a bad man to
rouse, and Colt's revolvers carry far.

At this moment a man pushed his way through
the people and laid a firm hand on Seb's shoulder.
It was Tom Cobbett, his present master. Bean
grasped his hand.

"Now I'll get some hearing," he panted, and at
once began, more disjointedly than before, to tell his
story. Cobbett took in the situation at a glance.

" Come out of this," he said roughly, taking hold
of the old man's arm. '• Both you and your story
will go to Kingdom Come together in another minute.
I didn't contract for you to perform for the amuse-
ment of Seckersburg. Come with me."

70 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

Resolution, quiet but inflexible, has at all times
great force with excitable people, and though Cobbett
was half the size of Seb, the old man yielded at once,
and amid the jeering laughter of the rabble, meekly
allowed himself to be led away.

Cobbett said nothing until he had conveyed his
herder to a room behind the bar of the hotel. Arriv-
ing there he ordered a bottle of soda-water, and made
Seb drink it. Then he said in a business-like tone :

" Now we can get to work. Just start that tale of
yours again. This time from the beginning. I'm
here to listen. Sheriff was not. That is a difference.
Fire away."

Seb did so. Tom Cobbett neither moved nor spoke
till he had heard the last word. Then he swore, at
first under his breath, then aloud. Finally, he took
a quick turn up and down the room, pulling up in
front of Bean, who was eagerly watching him.

" What's your idea, Seb ? "

The old man made a gesture of despair.

"Would a horse — "

" No," snapped the little man, " it wouldn't. 1
know the team Dick's got, and you may bet he'll
make 'em fly to-day. There ain't nothing in town
that could catch 'em with the start they've had. The

"ROAD AGENTS." Tl

horses here are weedy. Try agaui. — What's that
noise from the corral ? "

It was the long mournful howl of a dog- that has
abandoned itself to despair.

"It's Jiis dog," said Seb huskily. "He woke me
with his yowling. Guess he saw the coach, for the
road ain't far from there. He's been at it ever

since."'

Cobbett nodded, and then began to walk up and
down again. Suddenly he stopped, and his brow
cleared.

"I've ofot it. Come out."

They left the hotel and went to the corral.

"Look!" cried Cobbett. ' "That dog is in first-
rate condition. Clever too, ain't he? Well, then,
send liim.'^

Seb stared at his employer stupidly.

"But he can't s^Deak."

tcj^ool — he'll carry a letter. The point is, will he
catch the coach. Hell run like a fox, and they do
chansre horses somewhere before Clinter's Ford. We 11
try it, anyway. Can you write? Here's pencil and
paper. Now that won't do. Let me have it. So,
so. You sign it. Come, man, you must have the
credit, not me. There. Now put it on him."

72 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

A dozen words had been written in Mr. Cobbett's
clear, round handwriting, Seb's signature scrawled at
the bottom, and the letter was folded underneath
Shep's collar and tied there securely. The dog was
quiet enough, seeming to understand when Seb caressed
him and told him he was going to his master. Now
all was done, and he was led in leash to the coach
road. Then Seb spoke Nat's name distinctly, pointed
to the road, and let the dog go free.

A joyous bound in the air as if to make sure it
was true, one loud ringing bark of gratitude and
delight, and straight down the road flew Shep at
a pace which made Cobbett draw a breath of relief.

He put his hand within Seb Bean's arm, and they
stood there in silence watching the black body grow
smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether.

" There are men," said the little stockman senten-
tiously, yet with a ring of earnestness in his voice,
"who tell us that animals have no souls. I have
always thought these men were fools. Now, my
friend, I know it."

CHAPTER V.

JEFFEESOX COLLIXGWOOD, COWBOY.

The Las Animas coach, as Mr. Cobbett proplie-
siecl, wasted no time npon its way. The driver,
whatever his moral character inight be, understood
the art of managing horses, and, Avith little expendi-
ture of breath or use of whip, got an amount of
speed out of them which placed him liigh in the
esteem of his passengers. Even Xat, who was on
the top of the coach with Bel — Maizie preferring,
she said, to ride inside — complimented Driver Dick,
who seemed to appreciate the attention.

The driver of a Western stage, like the conductor
of a Western train, is a man of great authority, —
often as despotic in his Avay as the captain of a
man-of-war. It was therefore felt by the other
'' outsides " a special distinction for Nat when the
driver drew his attention to a ford they were cross-
ing and launched into a recital of an attempt made

74 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

to rob the coach some years ago, which had been
frustrated through what he modestly described as
''a little play on my own part, so they say." This
story ended with the display of a handsome gold
watch. " From the boss of the line, sir. Since
when," concluded Driver Dick complacently, " I've
carried ten thousand in silver often. I told the Gov-
ernment Agent I'd insure it myself. As far as
this coach is concerned all such fooling stopped
dead, five year ago to-day."

The morning passed quickly. Bel was in the high-
est possible spirits, and divided her time between
asking the driver questions about the road, and
telling Nat the plans Maizie and she were making
for their life in New Mexico. It does not fall to
the lot of many Western men to be the sole con-
fidant and friend of a charming girl, and to Nat
after his life of loneliness and hardship it was a
very precious privilege indeed. Those who had
known him before he started for the East would
have seen a remarkable change in his face. Many
of the hard lines had been sponged out, as it were,
his eyes had softened, his speech was less abrupt
and his voice less harsh. In manners, too, lie was
fast becoming a civilized being. This was due to

JEFFERSON COLLIXGWOOD, COWBOY. lb

constant efforts on the x^art of the girls, who had
Laid deep plots when he was ont of hearing to bring
him lip in the Avay he should go, and carried them
out with great success.

From the day, however, that they reached Seekers-
bur o% these thino's ceased to be. Hotels in Western
towns are hotbeds of scandal and gossip, and the first
evenino; INIaizie overheard some remarks which had
wounded her sensitive soul very deeply. She would
not tell Bel what they were, and even professed con-
temjjt for them, but Bel noticed that from that time
forth ]\Iaizie was far more reserved in her manner
towards Nat.

Such conduct was fatal to Nat's education. Bel,
though quick to notice things, stood too much in awe
of him to speak about them. It had always been
Maizie who had given expression to any objections.
Therefore, in Seckersburg, though Bel suffered much
she had no remedy. Xat, in the innocence of his
heart, bought and wore an obtrusively brilliant red
necktie ; he came down to table d'hote breakfast
without a coat, and marched about town with his
trousers tucked into his boots, cowboy fashion, but
Maizie said not a word, and when Bel beseeched her
to interfere the only answer she received was :

76 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

" It is not our business at all — at least not mine.
You talk to liim if jou like. I have thought about it
and have quite made up my mind, and I — I am rather
tired of the subject, dear."

Now when Maizie said she was tired of a subject
Bel knew by experience that the wisest course was to
leave her alone. The best of women have a thorny
side, and Maizie's showed itself if she were questioned
after she had " made up her mind."

The " subject " was not mentioned between them
again. Bel, after racking her girlish brain — for Bel
was barely eighteen — to imagine what was the matter
with Maizie, came to the conclusion that Nat's latest
atrocities in the way of dress had proved too much for
her sister's critical taste. This opinion was further
strengthened by a habit Maizie began to indulge in of
finding excuses to be away when Nat gave them the
benefit of his exclusive attention, and though even
Bel could not discover whether Nat noticed it, still
the thing was done. Bel was indignant at the- slight
to their friend, and though it must be confessed she
did not always find Nat cheerful company, she did her
best to make him think so. To-day she tried harder
than usual, causing Nat to become an object of the
keenest envy to one at least of the two other outside

JEFFERSON COLLINGAVOOD, COWBOY. 77

passengers. They were young men, rough and sun-
burnt aloout the face and hands, dressed in rude
Western attire of flannel shirt and overalls ; and only
the whip lashes twisted round their hats, and tight,
dandified boots, would have betrayed to the inex-
perienced eye that they were "cowboys." They
were returning from a visit to friends in Kansas City
to take part in an autumn ''round-up" of cattle in
Colorado.

Tam Sanderson, the younger, a fair-haired, blue-
eyed lad of twenty, was going to the ranche of a
brother in Las Animas. He had just become engaged
to a girl in Kansas, and spent his time just now in
dreaming of his marriage — an occupation very sooth-
ins" for his love-sick soul but somewhat dull for his
companion. This man, Jefferson CoUingwood, was of
a very different type. He was only two years older
than Sanderson, but looked thirty. Broad-shouldered
and deep-chested, swarthy of complexion and square
of face, with eyes as black as beads, and short bristly
black hair growing low. He was a man with a
history, for he had left home at thirteen and had made
his own way since then without help from a soul. But
there was little resemblance between his life and Xat's.
A restless, nervous, energetic person was Jefferson Col-

78 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

lingwoocl. It was said of him that whatever he did he
did well but that he never did it for long. He had
travelled in search of work, in deference to this consti-
tutional restlessness, over nearly the whole of the
Western states, and was equally at home in a mining
camp in California or on a stockman's ranche in Col-
orado. No man could ride better, or use a lasso more
unerringly ; he could work an engine or break in a
broncho equally well. He was invaluable where railway
construction was going on in dangerous places, and
knew everything that was worth knowing about all
kinds of animals. He was good-tempered and honest
as the day, yet he never succeeded, never saved money,
and at three and twenty, barring the fact that he had
good clothes and a few dollars to buy a horse and saddle
at his journey's end, had not a cent more behind him
than when his father whipped him ten years ago for
some trifling fault, and he left home to seek his fortune.
To-day he felt more restless than he had ever felt
before. Tam Sanderson had been his dearest friend
for ten years and had depended upon him like a
younger brother. Now Tam wanted him no longer ;
and though their affection for one another would
last their lives, the old tie was broken. Jeff had no
other friend. Like the Miller of Dee he " cared for

JEFFERSON COLLING^VOOD, COWBOY. 79

nobody — nobody cared for liim,*' — with tlie differ-
ence that his loneliness was not taken cheerfully.
He felt, when he mounted the coach that morning,
utterly out of tune, and only longed for the hard
work of the round-up to make him forget himself.
Upon this mood, like a shaft of sunlight piercing
the window of a prison cell, stole the music of a
fresh young voice and the vision of a beautiful
woman. Bel was not really beautiful to persons of
experience and impartial judgment, but to Jeff she
was divine. His brain seemed to catch fire. He
trembled all over, and felt as Aveak as a baby, and
turnino; his face so that he could see her without
being: intrusive sat as still as a stone, with his teeth
clenched, in love to the depth of his soul, in love —
for the first time in his life.

The morning passed. At noon they paused to
take refreshment. Only ten minutes were allowed,
as Driver Dick said part of the road was bad driv-
ing at night. But in the course of that ten min-
utes Jeff Collingwood had contrived to make Nat's
acquaintance, which was some compensation, though
not much, for the discovery that Nat's companion
was going to continue the journey inside the coach
with her sister.

80 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

The road was still smooth ; but ahead were the
blue outlines of the first range of hills, the outpost
of tlie eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains. The
day was hot, and the wind dropped to a mere breath.
The horses shoAved signs of flagging. And now the
driver appeared in a less favourable light ; for, knot-
ting his whip, he gave the poor beasts no respite, and
by the time the sun set and the station of Jacksonville
was reached, the team was in a lather and well-
nigh exhausted. Here there was to be an interval
of half an hour ; the horses were to be changed, and
the passengers to have an opportunity of stretching
their cramped limbs. The end of their journey was
to be reached about midnight.

Jacksonville was the centre of a small farming set-
tlement. Butter, eggs, and milk were sold and
eagerly bought by the travellers. After supper a few
minutes still remained before the time of starting, and
Nat proposed a stroll. Jeff and his friend came also,
and for a little while Jeff had his heart's desire and
talked to Bel. It was a pleasant evening for walking,
and they went further than they knew. They were
only recalled, indeed, by shouts from the hotel.

Driver Dick was fuming when they came up.
Maizie, who saw most things, thought to herself that

JEFFERSON COLLINGWOOD, COWBOY. 81

she had never seen a face she liked less. One after
the other the men scrambled to their places. Xat
was the last, and had his foot on the step, when some
one called out : —

" Hello, what d'ye make that on the road behind ? "
Nat turned his head, and bv the waningf lio-ht saw
a dog coming slowly towards them limping on three
legs. By this time Dick was in his place, and had
grasped the reins for a start. Deeply he swore under
his breath, when Nat, in a tone that admitted of no
contradiction, cried —

"Hold a minute. I must get down."
And down he sprang forthwith, with something in
his eyes that burnt and irritated them most uncomfort-
ably. In another moment he was on his knees in the
road, and Shep was licking his face all over with a
dry, parched tongue, too exhausted even to Avhine.

If the girls, accustomed to Nat's immobility of man-
ner, had thought him incapable of expressing tender-
ness, they were undeceived now. Driver Dick might
growl about waste of time, and mutter at the foolisli-
ness of some persons about a cur he'd liefer shoot than
caress, but there was no question of a further parting
between Xat and the dog which had followed him so
far. Five precious minutes were spent in giving him a

82 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

little water, examining his bleeding feet, and draw-
ing a thorn from one of them, and then Nat lifted
him tenderly in his arms and placed him under the
care of Maizie and Bel inside the coach.

No one had seen the note. Shep had i)luiiged into
a pool at the roadside, and the paper had become
nearly black with mud. It was not until the mud
completely dried that the girls at last discovered some-
thing which they could not understand tied round his
collar, cut it away, and by the light of the swinging
coach lamp — for it was nearly dark — deciphered its
contents.

^^ Warning. Six road agents will stop you at Clin-

ter's Ford. Driver Dick in it.

"Sebastian Bean."

Bel read it first and gave a little scream, severely
startling the other inside passengers, — two elderly
gentlemen of peaceable exterior, who were going to
visit friends in Colorado. They anxiously inquired
what was the matter, and Bel was about to enlighten
them when Maizie pinched her, and she coughed vio-
lently instead.

" The young lady is not ill, I hope," one of them said
politely, staring at the paper.

JEFFERSON COLLIXGWOOD, COWBOY. 83

"Thank you,'' said Maizie ; ''she is better now.
We have received some bad news."

The girls retired to the furthest corner of the
coach, and whispered together, A^-hile the gentlemen
fell into a gentle doze, blissfully unaware of the pros-
pect before them.

The question for the girls was how to get the note
into Nat's hands AAdthout attracting attention. How
near Avere they to Clinter's Ford? For a few moments
they discussed and rediscussed a variety of lAmis, and
expedients, and Bel in desperation was about to bring
the coach to a standstill under pretence of faintness,
when the strain of the team began to slacken, and the
driver pulled up of his own accord. Was this Clin-
ter's Ford ? The girls rushed to the door. It was
only the bottom of a long hill, and the men were get-
tmg off to ease the team. The gentlemen inside, ob-
servino' this, also aligrhted.

'' Xat," said Maizie, in a voice as clear and cool as
spring water, 'Mvill you examine Shep a moment.
Something is the matter."

When Nat emerged from the coach, which was
steadily pursuing its way up hill, he was accosted by
Driver Dick.

'' Ef that doo' of yotu's is sick, friend, I'll trouble

84 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

you to put liim out. His fare will be heavy, else,
for you. The Company's very particler about their
furniture."

Nat laughed.

"The furniture has not suffered — yet."

The driver grunted, and muttered sulkily to him-
self, Avhile Nat, humming a tune, crossed the road to
where Tarn and Jeff were walking together. He
slipped between them from behind, and gripped the
arm of each, Avhispering two words :

" Road agents."

He wondered how they would take the news.
Neither of them started at the ominous words.
Without speaking they turned to look at him
questioningly and by the last gleam of the fading
twilight he saw that their eyes were as steady as
his own.

They slackened their pace and the coach drew on
ahead.

" How did you hear ? "

"A note was tied on my dog's neck."

Nat then repeated the words Cobbett had written.

" It's genuine, for I knoAv my old herder's signa-
ture. Where's Clinter's Ford?"

"The bottom of this liill, two miles further," said

JEFFERSON COLLIXGWOOD, COWBOY. 85

Jeff Collingwoocl, adding, in a matter-of-fact tone,
"First point is Driver Dick. Sliall we tie liim up
or shoot him ? "

Xat pressed his arm.

" AVait a bit. This is my funeral, for I have 16000
on board. It got round town, likely, that I was
carrying it and this is the consequence. Now, it is
not fair that my foolishness should hurt others.
Can't we strike some plan by which they'll have my
money or me, and leave the rest alone ? "

Nat spoke earnestly, and had a great deal more
to say, but Jeff Collingwood interru^Dted him with
some heat.

" Now, just stop right there and talk sense. Next
thing will be that you'll Avant to know how much
we would fight for. You don't know us, stranger,
not a little bit. Your funeral, indeed ? What bosh !
Here's Tam, who has a girl back East ; isn't his life
Avorth something ? As for me — you'll excuse me if
I am speaking of your sister — but no road agent
that was ever born will so nuich as look into that
girl's brown eyes without going through me first.
But we've talked enough. The question is, who's
to run the outfit, you or me? What experience
have you ? "

86 A SOX OF THE PLAINS.

''I was with the Comanche five years as a boy."

"You 'Were! Then we elect yon Captain without
voting. Now for business, please."

While the men talked they had been following the
coach at a safe distance. They paused here and
shook hands, each registering an oath to himself that
he would stand by the others to the death.

" Well then," Nat said, as if he were continuing a
sentence, " my idea is to bind Dick, and push on.
Can 3'ou drive four ? "

"Drive twenty if the harness will hold them.
Where'U we put Dick?"

" Inside, Avith my dog to watch him. You will
take the lines, wear Dick's hat and coat and drive
through. Your partner and I will lie on the top
and pick off any who catch at the leaders. Their
plans will depend a good deal upon Dick pulling
in at a nasty place. If we can keep going they will
lose a chance. That's my notion."

Jeff chuckled.

"I am with you entirely. Tarn, boy, you must
take my new Winchester. You are very spry at
snap shots. As for me, while I can hold a line all
the road agents on the trail may try their worst.
Ah, see, — we're at the hilltop now. Driver Dick

JEFFERSON COLLING WOOD, CO^yBOY. 87

must not have the trouble of clmibing again. Close
round, boys."

The last gleam of daylight had gone and the road
which the coach had now to traverse looked like
sheer descent into the pit of Tophet — and it Avould
be little less to a driver who did not know the way.
The coach lamps only gave a faint light for a few
yards, and left the gloom behind blacker than before.
The leaders were in almost total darkness.

Driver Dick was getting very sulky.

" Late by two minutes," he said, in a reproachful
tone. ''What kind of a show do I get to make my
time, this way ? "

He held the reins in his hand and his foot was on
the first step. The light of the coach lamp shone
full on his face. Something touched his neck behind,
a hard round rim of steel.

" The game's up," said a stern voice. It was Nat's.
"Drop these lines and keep still."

The driver neither stirred nor spoke. He drew a
long breath between clenched teeth and shivered, but
he did not let go the reins.

" If you so much as sneeze," Xat continued, '' or
move a finger, I fire. I)rop those lines.''

The reins fell to the ground and the team, four

88 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

large mules, started, but Tarn Sandersou was already
at the leaders' heads and quieted them. In obedience
to an order from Nat he unliooked one of the coach
lamps and Dick was forced to walk some paces to
the left. His pockets were then turned inside out
by Jeff, and two pistols and a long knife abstracted
therefrom. All this, under Nat's revolver, the man
submitted to without a word or a struggle. He made
no inquiries and attempted no defence. Therein he
showed acute knowledge of men and things. Noth-
ing is more irritating to a Western man than ques-
tion or argument when he is about such work
as this. Any pretence of innocence or protest on
the part of Driver Dick would have resulted in
rough handling and seriously endangered his life.
So, hard as it was, he ground his teeth and said
nothing, watching every movement of his captors, his
muscles braced to take advantage of tlie least slacken-
ing of vigilance on their part. But he Avas in the
hands of men who were in desperate earnest. AV^hile
Jeff searched him and Nat covered a vital part of
his body, finger on trigger, Tam roused the people
in the coach, and persuaded the Eastern gentlemen,
not witliout some difficulty, to allow the rope with
which one of their trunks was bound to be used for

JEFFEllSOX COLLIXG^YOOD, COWBOY. 89

tying up the prisoner. This was done in a deft
and workmanlike manner by Jeff, and with the
addition of a stout gag the man was taken by head
and heels and deposited on the floor of the coach
under guard of Shep, and the Eastern gentlemen —
alias tenderfeet in Western parlance — who, having
been made fully acquainted with the facts, breathed
the most terrible threats against the prisoner. The
girls were then placed in the innermost recess of the
coach, while, as a further safeguard against any stray
shots, a barricade of cusliions was skilfully made by
Tam against the windoAvs.

While this was being done Jeff donned Dick's hat
and coat, loaded his shotgun, and mounted to his
seat, reins in hand. Xat gave the word ''AH
aboard," and with a swing and a jerk the coach
started downhill, — six desperate men awaiting it at
the Ford beloAV, and Las ^Vnimas and safety twenty
miles beyond.

CHAPTER VI.

THE ATTACK AT CLINTER'S FORD.

Jeff Colling wood had driven in his time every
kind of creature Avith four legs, from a donkey to a
thoroughbred, and he knew every inch of the Las
Animas road. Yet, with four hard-mouthed mules in
first-rate condition, a winding " down grade " to travel
over, and a topheavy, clumsily built coach behind, the
best driver in the universe might be pardoned for
nervousness.

Little recked Jeff of difficulty or risk. His face
was full of resolution, his nerves steady. Danger
came to him as a friend. Squarely he sat, one foot
on the brake, and one on the footboard, to keep his
balance true. He held the reins with a firm yet
elastic grasp, keeping his team well under control.

Fast they went, their speed increasing as they
approached the Ford until the leaders were galloping
and the strain upon Jeff's muscles to keep the shafters

THE ATTACK AT CLINTER's FORD. 91

in collar was so great as to burst the searas of Driver
Dick's coat.

One more turn of the road, and then —

'' Be read}^,*' growled Jeff to the others.

A steep decline, a river ri^^pling a few inches deep
over gravel, a bank on the other side rising sandy
and steep to the road beyond — this was Clinter's
Ford.

Down the decline the coach tliundered Avith the
impetus of an express train. Into the water, splash,
throwing spray high in the air to right and left.
The leaders reached the bank, and sank to their
knees in the yielding sand, but with the shafters
close behind recovered themselves in a moment and
sprang forward.

Crack! The report of two rifles, fired over the
coach, rang out on either side, and a voice clear and
biting cried loudly :

"Hold, you driver, or we plug you through."

No reply from the coach.

The mules, held well together, and frightened at
the noise, plunged forA^ard. One more effort, and the
stage would be on firm ground.

But now four figures sprang out of the darkness
and seized the reins.

92 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

A flash from the roof of the coach, and a sharp
double report ; a cry, and the leaders sprang free.
At the same moment the knife edge of the driver's
whip swept across their backs, and the coach advanced
another yard. But the mules in the shafts were held,
and the one on the near side, a mare, dropped on its
knees.

" Pick 'em off I " yelled Jeff, standing erect and
whirling his Avhip round his head.

Ping ! — a bullet from Nat's revolver sped, and the
shafter on the off side shook himself free with a sav-
age kick which crushed the chest bone of the man
who had stopped him. A scream came from behind.
The coach door had been forced. Nat flew to the
rear, Tam following. Jeff was deserted.

All the mules were free but the mare. By the
dim lamp-light Jeff saw a man holding her with
one hand, and in the other something which flashed
— a knife. With all his force Jeff aimed a blow at
the rufiian's face with his whip. The lash struck
him fairly across the eyes, and raised a livid line
of flesh. He lost his hold of the mare, and she
sprang to her feet.

" Get up there ! "

Jeff's call was like a trumpet note, and with a

THE ATTACK AT CLINTER's FORD. 93

bound the faithful beasts threw themselves into the
collar simultaneously, and pulled as only four strong
mules can pull. A wrench, a heave, the grating of
wheels in the sand, and the coach reached firm ground
at last.

Rifle bullets whizzed round Jeff's head like hail,
and Driver Dick's hat Avas riddled through and
through ; but they flew high, and the mules, break-
ing into a galloj), soon carried the coach out of
range.

What had happened inside ? A cold perspiration
broke out on Jeff's forehead as he thought of the
possibility of the girls having been seized. But he
was reassured by hearing laughter, and then Tarn
rejoined him and told him that all A^'as right.

Some time elapsed before Nat appeared again. A
road agent had succeeded in making good an entrance
into the coach when his friends had stopped it, fright-
ening the Eastern gentlemen into fits, and making
Bel scream. But when Nat arrived he found the
man on his back, struggling with Shep, who had
sprung gallantly at his throat, and was worrying him.
So vigorous was the dog's attack that the road agent
called loudly for quarter, and as he had hurt no one
but himself, was allowed to escape.

94 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

Nat, after quieting those inside, resumed his place
on the box in cheerful spirits. He found Jeff gloomy
and anxious.

''The brute who caught the near shaft mule," he
said with a groan, '' struck her somewhere, and I
doubt her lasting out. Cowardly skunk ! By good
luck he had not time for more than one blow, for
I branded him well across the eyes, and if we meet
a century ahead, I shall know him again. But she
is bleeding badly. What are we to do if she drops?
Those road agents will be on our track b}' now, and
there will be no time to change harness and pull the
old outfit to Las Animas with three beasts. But let
us keep hoping. Tell me about the fun inside."

Nat told hini, and then they fell silent, watching
the wounded mule. Once Nat suggested a halt to
examine her.

"No, sir," said Jeff, with emphasis, "if you will
take my word. Do you see hoAV she goes, — her ears
like fans, her nostrils spread wide, her head held high,
and her nose in the air ? She's hard hit, I tell you ;
and if she were to stop now, maybe she would never
move again. Let her go and she may last miles.
At present she is worth all the other three. Their
legs are well enough, but they have not her heart.

THE ATTACK AT CLI>'TER's FORD. 95

Don't tliink I like such business. If it was safe, I
would put her out of her pain, and we would trust
to the rest. But it is not safe. Why does she keep
up. vou say? Ah, you don't know the l)reed as I
do. There are people who will tell you that horses
are the noblest of animals. They are to some extent.
Btit for courage and constancy, give me a mule every
time. This beast is in mortal agony every step she
takes. I know it by her eyes. In her state a horse
would curl up and drop, and have done with it.
But that mide will go on as long as her heart will
beat. God bless her I Mules are vicious and mean
it is true. I dare swear this one has killed her man
before now. But to-night she has taken the other
track, and will save us if she can. Hist I what's
'that? Your ears will be better than mine, but if
I don't mistake it's the patter of hoofs behind."

"I'a'C heard it," Xat answered, ''for the last three
minutes. They are gaining steadily. There are six
horses, — which is strange, for I could have sworn
two men at least were dropped at the Ford. And
I only saw six when they began."

Jeff looked at him admiringly.

" I wisli I had your eyes and ears. It would be
nothing for them to have picked up others. Koad

96 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

agents are like crows. They seem to come out of
the air when anything is to be had."

There Avas a pause, then Jeff said in a low
voice : —

" The funeral must be made extensive if they run
us down. Make up your mind to that. I caught
a glimpse of the leader, and the gang is Sandy Rath-
lee's. They will stick at nothing. Sandy is a devil
of devils. If we are caught or killed, God help the
women ! "

There was no more said after this for a long time.
Jeff set himself to the task of husbanding the strength
of his team, while Nat and Tarn held a consultation
about the plans of defence if the worst came and the
coach broke down.

Everything depended now on the wounded mule.'
The moon had risen, and the men on the coach,
being more or less under cover, had not much to
fear from the enemy as long as they could keep
going. If, on the other hand, they came to a stand-
still, the road agents would fall upon them like a
pack of wolves. *

Mile after mile went by, and there was no change
visible in the mare. The enemy were not far behind
now, but they kept their distance. The experience

THE ATTACK AT CLINTEIl's FORD. 97

they luid gained at the Ford did not encourage unnec-
essary exposure.

" The brute who stabbed her is one of them, you
may depend," said Jeff. '-He knows where he struck,
and they are waiting for her to droj)."

Half an hour passed. Ten miles had been covered,
but there were ten more to come. The road, which
had been level so far, was now beginning to rise, and
the work of the mules Avas harder. Jeff kept his eyes
anxiously on the mare, but breathed freely, for she
went, if anything, more vigorously than before, and
seemed to make nothins;- of the hill.

" The worst bit is here," he said to Xat. " Once we
top this rise the way is easy and smooth, and they will
only have to go. If she can stand this pull — if she
only can ! " '

Slowly the time passed on, but tlie mule's strength
held. Jeff's trouble was to keep the rest of the team
up to her pace. The poor beasts were weary and
inclined to flag, and whip and hand and voice had to be
used unsparingly. It was hard work. The perspira-
tion streamed down Jeff's face and he became so hoarse
that he could hardly make himself heard, but his
energy triumphed, and the pace held.

The crest of the hill was close at hand. It was very

98 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

steep here and the road was full of loose stones.
Twice the leaders stumbled, and the off-shafter once,
but the mare never winced or failed. At last the top
was reached and tlie strain was over.

The men felt no relief, however, for, behind, the
smiting of the hoofs upon the road grew louder ; and
now, at last, the mule was giving way. She limped
a little, and at intervals sliuddered so convulsively
that her harness shook. When this happened she
would almost come to a standstill, but immediately
afterwards gathered herself together with an effort
and dashed forward as fast if not faster than before.
Her breath, now coming in deep sobs, told how near
the end must be.

Another mile passed, and still the road agents held
back, and still the mule ran on. The end was coming
fast. The sobbing breaths were now accompanied by
an ominous rattle in the throat, and the blood poured
from her nostrils in a stream. Now from behind there
came two rifle shots ; the men were closing in.

The mule seemed to hear the sound. Her head,
which had been drooping lower and lower, was sud-
denly raised with a defiant snort, her pace quickened
so that it Avas all the rest of the team could do to
keep up with her. For a minute even the enemy

THE ATTACK AT CLINTER's FORD. 99

were out-distanced and fell behind. Then the end
came.

AVith a crv, human in its ancfuish, she staof^ered and
nearly fell. By a great struggle she recovered herself
and sprang forward a few more paces, just preventing
an overturn of the coach, then her hind quarters sank
under her, and she fell on her side — dead.

Without a word Jeff leapt to the ground and threw
his reins away — the mules being glad enough to stand
— and drawino' his revolver ran to the coach door.
Nat was there, and they stood side by side. Above
them lay Tam, the shotgun in his hand and a rifle by
his side. He was to form the reserve.

The enemy charged up with a yell. But before they
reached the coach, before the defenders had fired a
shot, the trampling of many horses was heard and
from tlie front came a voice deep as a growl of
thunder.

" Road agents, by the Lord I Right and left, boys.
Fire on every one who moves. Quick, or they'll slip
away. S'help us all, what luck; it's the gang of Sandy
Rathlee."

CHAPTER VII.

THE WORDS OF A WISE MAN.

The road agents had fallen into the lion's jaws.
The owner of the stentorian voice was Dave Cal-
deron, the sheriff of Las Animas County ; and with
him were a score of sheriff's officers. Resistance was
out of the question. Two escaped — Sandy Rathlee
and the man who stabbed the mule. The rest sur-
rendered at discretion.

Mr. Calderon was a man of swift action. With
his own hands he wounded one road agent and shot
the horse of another. Then he sprang off his horse
and opened the coach door.

" How are we here ? Glad to see you standing
fire, boys. Let me pass, though, I guess. Ah — ha?
Women-folk — beg pardon — ladies." Off came his
hat, and he bowed like a Spanish grandee. '' A
prisoner, by George ! What — Dick ? Well, I'm
— beg pardon ladies — blessed ! Bad — bad — bad.

100

THE WOKDS OF A ^ISE MAN.. '^-,',^01;. >

Boys" — to the men outside — '4end a hand here.
Ladies and gentlemen, ste^D out, please. Xo danger.
Allow me, ma'am. Xow, good dog, don't get hurt
by biting me."

All this in a breath, and then, bareheaded, he
handed Maizie and Bel from the coach, beaming upon
them more like a jovial Santa Glaus than the grim
police-officer he was. But when he saw their faces
under the coach lamp he started.

'^What's this? Ain't I speaking to Maizie and
Bel Shelford, of Chico Springs ? I thought my eyes
weren't going back on me yet. You don't recollect
me, I see. How should ye ? You was both little
tots when I saw you last. If the Avorld don't run
round fast — when I see you grown-up women I But
you are not hurt anyways, or robbed? — tell me that?"

He had tjiken Maizie's hand in his right and Bel's
in his left, and was shaking them Ijoth heartily.

In reply to their assurances that they were safe,
and in full possession of all their belongings, he
shook hands again, and, in the transport of his feel-
ings, seemed about to kiss them. He refrained, on
second thoughts, and laughed instead. Then seeing
that others Avished to speak to him he became the
sheriff ao-ain at once.

10;2 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

" Are you boys passengers ? Had a tight time, I
guess. I'll Avant to hear all about this. But we
must get into town first. Who ran the coach through
after Dick was tied up — you ? "

He spoke to Nat.

"No."

" Who then ? "

"The man who is hitching up now."

The sheriff turned on his heel and went to Jeff,
who was readjusting harness as coolly as if the coach
belonged to him.

" Your name, young man ? "

The tone was sharp and official, and Jeff looked
up with a frown without answering. He met a
bronzed, eagle face, and answered almost in spite of
himself.

"Jefferson Collingwood."

The sheriff's eyes softened.

"Jefferson Collingwood — you are a brave man.'

Jeff shook his head.

" You ran the stage through, I hear — "

" Do you believe all you hear ? "

"Not likely."

"Then don't believe that."

THE AVORDS OF A WISE MAX. 103

Jeff miLookt'd one of tlie coach lamps and liekl it
close to the ground.

^' It was this mule, not me. She was struck as you
see at the Ford. In mortal agony she ran fifteen
miles without whip or rein, until death stox:)ped her
here. We have all done our best, hut that would
have served us little. This beast saved us. I tell
you if I can ever hud the man who drew her life
blood I will kill him, though it be ten years hence.
That I solemnly swear."

While Jeff was speaking, the sheriff looked at him
with his head on one side like an inquiring bird.
When he had finished, the old man grunted, whether
in S}Tnpathy or contempt it would be hard to say,
gave him a huge slap on the back, and left him as
abruptly as he came.

Great Avas the excitement in the town of Las
Animas when the coach, with its escort of sheriff's
officers and their prisoners, arrived an hour later.
A man had been sent on by the sheriff ; and every
comfort, and a warm welcome, awaited the belated
travellers. The girls retired at once, worn out wiili
the fatigues of the day, but Xat and Jeff, from
whom the sheriff gathered all the details of the
attempted robbery, did not get to bed until nearly

104 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

sunrise the next morning. As a consequence they
slept well into the afternoon and found they could
not go further West until the following day.

They sj)ent the evening together, and a very
memorable evening it was to at least one of the
party. Jeff, to Avhom, in spite of his emphatic dis-
claimers, the rest considered they owed their safety,
was made much of by every one, and continued to
make the most of his opportunities. Sheriff Cal-
deron was with them part of the time, and while he
talked about old days with Maizie, and Nat listened,
Jeff conversed with Bel to his heart's content. I
fear that we cannot honestly say that the conduct
of Bel this night was quite what it ought to have
been. She had known Mr. Collingwood little more
than tAventy-four hours. Yet she treated him like
an old friend, and chattered away about her life in
St. Louis, her friends and her thoughts in general ;
listened with bright sympathy to some of his expe-
riences, and questioned him in her sweetest tones
about himself, until Jeff's heart and pulse were
bounding with rapture and — such is the vanity of
first love — even with hope. The day before he had
been in love with a vision of womanhood which
seemed as far away as the stars, to-day he loved one

THE WORDS OF A WISE MAN. 105

whose eyes appeared to grow brighter when she
heard his voice ; to whom he tokl reminiscences no
living soul had ever heard him speak about before,
and who, best of all, told him about herself as
freely as if she felt he had a right to know what
her life had been.

When, at last, the evening had flown, and Jeff
was left to think alone, he found himself almost
giddy with happiness. Sleep was out of the
question. He walked outside the town to the top
of a bluff wliich overlooked it to the north, and
there he sat smoking for hours. At first he lived
over again the delight of their long talk together,
but by and hje he began to think of the future,
and his mood changed. She was going to-morrow,
while he was bound by contract to Tam Sander-
son's brother to remain here for at least two
months. What might not happen in two months?
There were hundreds of men in New Mexico who
would go wild, as he had done, at the sight of her
face. Could he speak before they parted ? For a
moment, so audacious was this man, and so strong
his passion, that he hesitated while his eyes glowed
and his breath came thick and short ; but common
sense came to the rescue and he sneered bitterly at

106 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

the impulse and frightened it away. Then another
fear tortured him. Nat Worslej, that quiet, grim
little sheep-man, Avas he not a rival, and if so could
there be a more dangerous one ? True, this evening
he had not obtruded himself in the least, and Bel
had talked as if he did not exist. But he was a
man of great self-control, and, besides, could afford
to bide his time. While Bel — after all, might she
not be amusing herself with Jefferson CoUingwood ?

Such thoughts as these w^ere ill companions at
night for a man with overwrought nerves, and when
Jeff determined to torment himself no more, and
retired to bed, his dreams were worse than his re-
flections, and he rose at dawn haggard and weary.

The hotel was all astir, for the coach started
early. Jeff found the girls in the porch standing
with Nat to watch the sun rise. They greeted him
cordially, but Jeff fancied that there was a sugges-
tion of reserve in Bel's manner, and he noticed that
she addressed herself to Nat immediately afterwards
rather pointedly, and continued to talk to him until
breakfast was ready, never even looking in Jeff's
direction.

Never had a strong and hearty young man so
little appetite as Jeff that morning. The bread

THE WOKDS OF A WISE MAX. 107

seemed to clioke him, the beefsteak to be made of
Avood. It woiikl have been altogether a very silent
meal, for a reflection of his mood seemed to oppress
the rest, had not ]Mr. Calderon joined them and
enlivened them by giving harrowing accounts of
the primitive arrangements of sheep-ranches in gen-
eral and ]Mr. Dan Shelford's in particular, and
rousing Beks indignation by prophesying that she
would not endure it for a week.

Breakfast over, the girls retired to finish their pack-
ing, Avhile the young men. accompanied by the sheriff,
strolled round to see the horses of the stage put in.
Up to the moment of the girls' departure ^Ir. Calderon
chatted and joked in the most cheerful manner. But
when they left his face became grave, and lie was as
silent as Xat himself.

The horses were hitched, the coach ready, and
John Forster, shortest and grinnpiest of stage-drivers,
snapped out : •• Them as want to go climb in — I wait
for none."

This was a gentle hint to the girls, who were taking
messages from the sheriff for their father.

He shook hands with both of them.

" Good-bye, good-bye, little gells — for little you are
to me — remember what I sav now. Where vou're

108 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

going, folk is one thing or the other. Either they
will go through fire for you, or they are worse than
snakes. The prairie is a very nice place to walk or
ride in if you have a good friend at j^our side, but it
has queer ways if gells goes alone. Don't forget that.
Good-bye and bless ye both. You Nat, take care of
them. Adios — adios ! "

He shook hands again, having done so a most un-
necessary number of times already. Forster's red face
was nearly purple with impatience. This made the
leave-taking with Jeff very short. He had several
things which he intended to say, one of which had
been to announce his intention of paying a visit to
Chico Springs in the winter. But \yhen the moment
came he was so nervous that he could not say anything
at all, and only gave Bel's hand a squeeze which made
it ache for some hours afterwards, and muttered a
gruff farewell.

Then the coach started with a jerk and rattle and
departed in a cloud of dust.

A sense of irritation, a stupid, helpless misery de-
scended upon Jeff as the stage disappeared. It was
over ! These people, known only for two days, were
now gone to a far-off country, never to cross his path
again, though one had become so dear to him.

THE WORDS OF A WISE MAX. 109

What a fool lie had been ! She care ? It was a
feverish dream. He felt glad that lie had not offered
to go and see them. Why should tliey care ever to
see him again? He would get to work and drive the
whole thing out of his mind.

Jeff was a man of action. He seldom thought about
anything more than once before he did it. In lialf an
hour after the coach dej)arted he was inspecting a
bunch of horses for sale ; and before noon had made
his purchase and was at the ranche of Tam's brother,
ready to start on the round-up at an hour's notice.
He found Tam's brother in trouble. One of his chil-
dren had just fallen ill. The sickness did not appear
to be very serious, but there had been fever about that
summer and as illness of any kind is always dreaded
in proportion to the raritj' of its occurrence, a doctor
was needed. Jeff, whose condition of mind just then
was one of intense restlessness, offered to drive back
to Las Animas, and as he was the best whip on the
ranche, his offer was eagerly accepted. Arriving
again at Las Animas he found that the doctor was
out, but had left word that he would be back in half
an hour. Jeff' hitched his horse to a post, and
waited. It was a hot afternoon and he strolled into
the bar of the hotel for a drink. The sheriff was

110 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

there, and, rather to Jeff's surprise, shook hands with
warmth.

" I had you in my mind, young man, that precise
moment. Strange jou should be here. What will
you take? My drink."

Jeff took lager beer, the sheriff something stronger.
They did not stay long. The restlessness Jeff felt
so strongly seemed to torment the sheriff also,
and they walked up and down before the doctor's
house.

For a time they paced in silence, but at a turn of
the sidewalk their eyes met, and each saw a look in
the other's face which struck him as peculiar.

The sheriff was the first to speak. He accom-
panied his words by an action very rare with him —
laying his hand on the young man's shoulder and
calling him by his Christian name.

" What's on your mind, Jefferson ? "

At any other time, and from any other man, Jeff
would have keenly resented such a question. But
there was a gnawing hunger for sympathy in his
heart, and in the touch of the old man's hand, and
in the tone of his voice there was a gentleness, almost
tenderness, which soothed Jeff's sore spirit. He hung
his head and turned his face away.

THE ^VOKDS OF A WISE MAN. Ill

'' Xot mucli that is worth telling. I am a fool,
like many more."

He stopped and cleared his throat.

"And why?*'

Jeff straightened himself, and looked his questioner
in the face. His mouth was hard and his words
bitter, but they were belied by a pitiful sadness in
the eyes.

'' Some one has gone South to-day, whom I shall
never see again, and my heart has gone with her.
Xow you have it all."'

He turned away when he had finished speaking,
and made as though he Avere going back to the hotel.
But the sheriff's grasp on his shoulder tightened, and
they walked on in silence again for a space. The only
reply made by Calderon to Jeff's confession was a
sigh of sympathy, but it was better than many words.
At last the old man began in a low, earnest tone.

'• I guessed this, Jefferson. It came to me as early
as yesterday evening. I thought to myself, thinks
I — Dave Calderon, you are a hard old case. It's five-
and-thirty years since your heart l)eat for a woman
— yet you ain't too old nor too blind nor too deaf to
mistake the marks of that feelino\ There's a fire in
his eyes — I was thinking of you — there's a tone in

112 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

his voice when he speaks to that little girl, which
goes straight to your heart, tough as you are, as the
ball of a Colt's sixshooter. Those were my ideas,
Jefferson, last night. And then I watched you.
Don't rar' and get mad with the old man for spyin'.
I've that to say before I'm through Avhich will explain
all. I say I watched you. You didn't go to bed.
You prowled off to think, and you didn't turn in till
past midnight. I timed it by my watch. Then, this
morning. She talked to the sheep-man and your
face was like a lamp with the light snuffed out. Poor
hid, your road is rough. I ain't too old to forget
that either, remember."

He paused and gave another sympathetic sigh, and
they took a turn of the sidewalk again. Then he
went on in a different tone, watching Jeff closely out
of the corner of his eyes.

" But the world's big. And she — good as she is
— ain't the first woman you've seen in your life, and
may be not the last. How's that ? "

Jeff's only reply to this was to withdraw his shoul-
der somewhat sharply from the hand laid upon it.

"I can't speak from experience."

The sheriff clapped his hand where it had been,
more firmly than before.

. THE WORDS OF A WISE MAN. 113

" Don't fling away now. I was bnt trying ye. Not
bnt what I hope yon" 11 he free-hearted before long.
I know yon ain't now, and don't want to l^e. You
ain't that kind of man. And now I'm coming to
business. For I ain't wasting your time here, nor
my own, though it looks like it. Do you know the
country they" — with a waye of his hand to the
south — •• are bound for ? Calumet County, New
Mexico ? "

"Not at all."

" Well then, I'll tell ye — for I do know it, being
sheriff there hye years, up to a matter of three
months ago. Jefferson Collingwood, it's just — "
Here the good sheriff uttered that word of four let-
ters which men of his class inyariably use when under
pressure of great excitement.

" If Dan Shelf ord — I haye known him twenty
years — were not the cussedest, ol)stinatest old prairie
badger as eyer grew sheej3, he'd haye dug his own
graye and shot himself into it before he eyer sent
for those daughters of his. Calumet County, NcAy
Mexico, once one of the quietest settlements on the
eastern slope of the Rockies, is at this present
speaking the most God-forsaken place we haye in
the Union. Times will mend — they ahvays do in a

114 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

free country — but they'll mend only in one way —
by tlie ranchemen rising and quietly cleaning out the
towns, or one or two of them, and hanging a few
score of the cursed dead-beats and scum of the world
they've allowed to collect there. You know a bit,
perhaps, what such places are. No man's life is worth
a shake Avhen he's honest, and no woman is safe at
all unless she can kill at sight and likes doing it. Or
unless" — here the sheriff spoke slowly and with
emphasis — ''she's well guarded by those avIio know
how to fight.

"Now all this is bad enough, but there's more to
come. In this county of Calumet, sheep-men and
cattle-men have pretty near come to blows. That is,
they would have if the sheep-men were not too weak
to do any fighting. As it is they are moving out.
But Dan Shelford is not one of these. I know the
man, and I'll bet my best horse against a yellow dog
that he'll stick on his ranclie like a balky mule,
and let them blow his old shanty into the air before
he will move an inch. And the worst of it all is
that the cattle-men, curse them, — you're one, I sup-
pose — but I can't help facts — the cattle-men of
Calumet are so bitter that they allow the low-down
crowds from the towns to make hay of sheep-men.

THE WORDS OF A WISE MAN. 115

Of course this knocks away any kind of show from
the sheep-men for standing straight at all, and if it
weren't for Ezekiel ]Mixer, storekeeper of the sta-
tion, Chico Springs, old Dan would have been
roasted out before now. When his daughters get
there, and the rowdies get to hear of it, I would
not guarantee anything."

Tiie sheriff paused here, and glanced sharply at
his companion. Jeff did not speak, but his lips were
pressed tightly together, and his l^rows knit, as if he
were turning over some difficult problem in his mind.
Dave Calderon w^as quite satisfied with the effect
his words had produced.

"That's the position," he went on, "and the worst
side of it. The other side is^Xat Worsley, who is
gone to Calumet to stay, if I know anything of men,
and who'll do all that lies in him to keep things even,
and the man I spoke of, Zeke Mixer — a kind of card
the cattle-men and the bull-whackers know mio-htv
little about — and that's all. Two men, and the few
they can pick up, against what you may call an army,
and those two little daisies to be defended aein it.
It's enough to touch the heart of a bear, and old
Dan ought to have ten years in the Penitentiary —
that's my opinion."

116 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

Another pause, and for some minutes no sound but
the tramp of the two men on the sidewalk ; then at
last Jeff spoke, and the old sheriff held his breath.

" The way you put it — there will be danger, dan-
ger every day for — for those two girls, while they
are in New Mexico. Is that so ? "

" You've struck it. That is so."

" And," — speaking very slowly — ''if I gave up
my contract and went down, do you think things
would be safer for them ? "

"I do."

"But I am not a sheep-man."

" You are square and honest, and if you spoke truth
a while back, there don't live a man who'll touch
those girls, while you have a finger left to press a
trigger. That's why I spoke. But don't mistake me
— this is a free country, and no man need step into
fire for the asking. Take it or leave it ; I'd not
blame you if you held back."

"I — take it, then."

Calderon stopped short in his tramp and looked
hard at Jeff for nearly a minute without speaking.
Then he laid both his hands upon his shoulders.

" Lad, I must be fair, and put all down. If aught
I've said has made you think ' I'll go, for mebbe

THE WORDS OF A TVISE MAX. 117

she'll turn to me after all," — if that's what moves
ye, put the v^hole idea away. It ain't fair, neither
for you nor for her. I ain't meant that. Of course
it isn't for any one to speak of other folks'
business, and that little Comanche-Nat, as they call
him. is close as he kin stick. But, he saved her from
the Arapahoes, and for four weeks afterwards she has
had him to talk to and liim onlv, all dav lono\ Btit
there's more than that. It's hard to tell ye, and,
God forgive me, I didn't mean to tell ye because I
wanted yoti to go South so bad, and feared it would
ptit you off. Biu I Avill tell you now.

'•Between the room I slept in last night and the
breakfast-room, there's but a thin slab of Avood. I
heard voices tliis morning, and thotigh it's my busi-
ness to hear all I can and say naught, I'll repeat
to you the words that came, for it's life and death,
maybe.

'* One voice says ■ — Maizie's : —

" ' He thought a great deal of it. Yoti scarcely
spoke to Xat, and ]\Ir. Collingwood never took his
eyes from your face all the evening.'

" ' Nonsense,' said Bel very quick. • why, Ave liaA'e
only spoken to one another about twice. I don't
knoAv him a bit. Hoav could lie tliink I preferred

118 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

liis society to Nat's. Nat was talking to Mr. Cal-
cleron. I am sure you are mistaken.'

" ' I'm telling you of what I saw,' rejoins Maizie in
that firm little voice of hers. ' If you feel so about
him you must be different when he comes in the
morning, or you may do a great wrong. He's a
good man.'

"Just then the door opened somewhere and there
was no more of it. Now — I have told you all."

Jeff took one of the sheriff's liands and pressed it.

"Thank you. It's — it's all right. I had an idea
when I saw her this morning it was all over ; now
I know. I am nothing to her, — nothing at all."

" And what will you do ? "

"Go South —to-morrow."

CHAPTER VIII.

xat's reward.

HoAV far Bel was conscious of the impression she
had made upon Jeff Collingwood it is not easy to say
— she hardly knew herself. But all that day she was
unusually silent and thouo-htful, and had not recoy-
ered her usual cheerfid.ness by the time she reached
Chico Springs two Aveeks later.

There was more tlian one reason for this. From
the day they crossed - the diyide "' and entered upon
the desolate scenery of Xew Mexico, — with its ill-
shaped, flat-topped mountains, and monotonous billoAV-
like, rolling prairie land, interspersed with grey tracts
of sage brush and patches of black grassless soil
seamed with white deposits of alkali, as dead and
bare as a desert of Africa. — the Q^irls noticed that
Xat's manner and bearino- chano-ed, and he became as
reseryed and tacittirn as on the lirst day of their
acquaintance, two months ago.

119

120 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

This change had not come all at once, and when
they compared notes the night before the last day of
their journey, they found that they entirely disagreed
as to the time when it began. Bel declared that Nat
had never been the same since Maizie had refused to
ride on the top of the coach the day the road agents
appeared, while Maizie Avas positive that she had not
noticed any depression in Nat's spirits until they left
Las Animas. At breakfast on the last morning they
tried hard to bring him round. But in vain. He
answered their questions gently, and was more than
usually attentive to their comfort ; but accompanying
every word and action Avas an indefinable something
in tone and bearing which conveyed to Maizie's mind,
at least, a clear intimation that as soon as Chico
Springs was reached, and they were under their
father's care, he would leave them. But Bel, when
Maizie prophesied this, would not listen.

" Of course he will come to the ranche, and stay
awhile," she said. " Father w^ill insist upon it. Per-
haps he feels nervous at what people may say, for you
knoAv how he hates being thanked for anything. That
is it, depend upon it. We must give father a hint,
somehoAV, not to say too much at first. But how
awkward that this has come now. Do you see that

NAT'S REWARD. 121

he lias put on his horrid old clothes this morning?
I du want to tell him that he should dress nicely
to-day. But I daren't. Don't you think you could,
Maizie, dear ? "

But Maizie refused, with Avhat Bel thought unneces-
sary emphasis, and they then mounted to their places
on the coach and drove away.

Chico Springs Station, a straggling group of log
and adobe houses, came in sight at noon, and with
a great clatter of wheels and cracking of whip,
the stage crossed a sweep of sandy waste, rattled
over a wooden bridge whicli spanned the Chapparal
I^iver — a muddy rivulet with high banks — and
at a brisk canter dashed into the station, and
pulled tip before its principal building, Simpson's
saloon.

Simpson's saloon, or '-Simpson's," — as the natives
of the soil called it. — Avas a structure of three stories.
The lowest was dug out of the ground, and used for
kitchen and larder; the next, of adobe, was painted
black with yellow stripes ; the next, of frame, a dirty
white ; while, covering the whole, Avas a shingle roof
— a costly luxury in those days, and whicli the proud
possessor had coloured blue, painting his name across
it in the laro-est of gold letters. As a monstrosity

122 A SON. OF THE PLAINS.

of Ugliness Simpson's was worth going many miles to
see ; but Cliico Springs was proud of it.

In common with most houses of its class, Simpson's
received its visitors on the second floor by a long
flight of steps, at the top of wdiich a '' porch," or cov-
ered balcony, was built, where the greater part of
the inhabitants of the station lounged when the day
was warm.

On this balcony, Avhen the coach rattled up^ stood
a man who examined the vehicle with evident inter-
est, nodding his head and grunting when he saw the
faces of the passengers. Tliis was "Slv. Dan Shelford.
He was a person of small stature and shrunken
appearance ; his clothes, of brown canvas, were new
and much too big for him. His hat, very broad in
the brim, was pulled over his eyes ; and those on the
coach could only see the tip of a sharp nose, a long
chin, and thin, clean-shaven lips, which habitually
exposed rather prominent front teeth with a nervous
contraction like a fixed smile. His face was wrinkled
and weather-beaten, and Nat thought as hard as a
flint. But Nat was more severe than he need have
been. The hardness vanished when Mr. Shelford
trotted down the saloon steps ; and Latham ^loore,
the driver of the mail, and a truthful man, was heard

nat's reward. 123

afterwards to declare that lie saw a tear on the old
man's cheek when his daughters kissed him, and
not even the withering scorn and incredulity of all
Shelford's most intimate friends could drive this idea
out of Latham's head. Be this as it may. it is cer-
tain that Dan Shelford showed as much emotion as
he was capable of, though we are bound to admit
that it was very soon over, and the tone in which
he spoke immediately afterwards Avas as harsh and
matter of fact as if his children had been away ten
days instead of ten years.

''So — ye're come. It is good to see you, but I'd
no notion it would have cost so much. Who's
this ? "

He had spied Xat, who, ha^dng alighted on the
other side of the coach to be out of the way, now
appeared with the girls' trunk on his shoulder.

''Xat Worsley, father," said Maizie, Avith a bright-
ness in her eyes and a colour in her face that made
her almost beautiful for the moment, '' the friend
who saA'ed our lives."

"I remember. Hoav d'ye do, Mr. Worsley? Glad
to make your acquaintance. You and me Avill liaA'e
a Avord before Ave get away from toAvn. See, little
gells, guess you had better trot OA^er to Mixer's store

124 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

— you remember Ezekiel Mixer who gave you candy
in the okl times ? Well, he reckons he has some now.
There he stands, waiting. Go to him while we put
3^our trunk in the wagon."

All this was spoken in the tone of one who always
had his own way and must have it now. The girls
obeyed instinctively, and were soon absorbed in con-
templation of tlie ]Mixer family.

Nat, with a slight contraction of the lips, followed
Dan Shelford in another direction, and presently
dumped his burden into a lumber wagon drawn by
two fat mules.

" Wa'al, I\lr. Worsley," said the little man, looking
at his companion out of the corner of his eyes like
a magpie about to peck. '' I guess now you'll not
mind a drink. Come to the saloon."

They went thither, Nat, so far, not having spoken
a word. His silence, however, did not seem to em-
barrass Mr. Shelford in the least.

Drinks were ordered, tasted, and then Dan, eyeing
Nat under his hat brim more like a magpie than
ever, began to ask questions sharply.

" Come to Chico Springs to stay, I presume,
have ye ? "

"No, sir."

xat's eeward. 125

" No ? where is your location ? "

There was somethinof in the wav this was said
that made Xat. though not naturally a quick-tem-
pered man, tingle all over. His face at once became
the quintessence of impenetrability.

''Where sheep pay best."'

'• And where's that ? "

''You might tell me. perhaps."

Dan cast a sharp look at the speaker, and shook
his head. '• That's not my business, young man. But
1 am concerned to know where your ranche lies — if
you haye one — so's I may tell how far you brought
my gells. That's my meaning."

'•I have no ranche now.''

"Sold out?"

"Yes."

Dan Shelford looked suspicious.

'-What price?''

"More than I expected, but not more than I de-
served."

The old stockman looked at Xat sharply again, but
Nat's face miglit. as far as expression went, be com-
pared to a piece of Avood. My. Shelford drummed
his fino-ers on the counter, and, for the first time,
looked uncomfortable. He sipped his liquor and

126 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

choked ; took another sip to recover himself, cleared
his throat and delivered his soul in a breath.

"Nat Worsley, you took my daughters out of
the Arapahoe camp, boarded 'em as well as you could,
and brought them safe to Seckersburg, and now you
have seen them through to me. This has cost you
trouble and time, and for good work a man should
get fair pay. I'm poor — leastways, not rich. But
if you will set doAvn your price on paper, I'll put it
before my girl Maizie, who has a head for figures and
knows the circumstances. And if what she says is
reasonable, I'll pay you before I leave town to-day.''

If a thunderbolt had fallen through the shingle
roof of Simpson's and descended on Nat's head, it
could not liave been a greater shock to his system
than Mr. Shelf ord's proposal. All the experience of
men he had gathered in his wandering life had not
prepared him for this. It was well that the glassware
of Simpson's Avas strong, or the tumbler in Nat's
hand would have been crushed into small pieces. He
managed to set it down somehow, and then, without
answering, bundled himself into the open air. Dan
Shelford followed him, peering up at. his face, eager
and suspicious.

Opposite to the saloon, with only a broad road

nat's RE^yARD. 127

between, was Mixer's store, and Nat, looking across,
saw ]\Iaizie in the porch, shading lier eyes with her
hand as if Availing for some one. A sudden idea struck
Nat, and the face which Dan Shelford tried to read
became 'harder than before.

'' The notion of payment, sir," Nat said slowly, " is
queer. Is it your own?"

Dan winced. He was anxious to stand well with
Nat, to whom he was genuinely grateful ; and to his
mind payment in money was the only kind of grati-
tude worthy of the name, yet Dan was a strictly
truthful man.

"Well, it was — and it was not," he stammered.
" I had it in my mind from the time that cowboy
brought tlie first letters from my gells. But it got
clenched in when Maizie's note came from Seckers-
burg. So I cannot say the idee were all my own.
Other folk kind of saw it more strongly than me,
but it was in my head all the time. Now, friend, say
— what price ? "

It was a long time before Nat answered, and then
his reply was not at all Avhat Dan expected. He stood
for some minutes grasping the railing of the balcou}'
with hands which trembled strangely, his face rigid
and colourless as if he were in great pain.

128 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

MeaiiAvliile, within the store Bel was recounting
to Mr. Mixer the episode in the Arapahoe camp.
While she talked, she caressed Shep, who loved her,
next to his master, more than any person in the world,
and had followed her into the store. In the middle
of the story, Avhich Bel told exceedingly well, Shep
became uneasy. Bel laughed.

''Nat is not far off. I must hurry."

But no Nat came. Suddenly Shep barked, leapt
free from Bel's caressing hand, and stood in the
middle of the room on tiptoe. Bel stopped speak-
ing, and every one looked at the dog. Now, faintly,
but heard by all, came a long, peculiar whistle. The
next moment the window was darkened, there was
a fearful crash, and Shep disappeared, carrying the
whole of a pane of plate glass with him.

With an exclamation of astonishment both Maizie
and Bel made a quick movement towards the door.
It was opened before they reached it, and their father
came in alone. He looked flushed and uncomfortable,
but in his eyes there was a sort of subdued twinkle of
relief and satisfaction.

" Where's Nat ? " Bel cried, Maizie saying nothing.

Mr. Shelford coughed, and tried to be jocose.
"■ Where he feels like being, my dears, I s'pose.

KAT^S REWARD. 129

He's all right. At present sj^eakiiig I reckon he's
a mile or more on the road to Santa Fe. What's
the matter? It ain't my fault. You don't think I
sent him aAvav'^ He just bolted. Xo man can say
why. I did the best 1 could do, — asked him to name
his price for all he had done for you."

The girls looked at him in unutterable dismay.

"You offered him money," said Maizie with whit-
ening lips. " Our friend — our brother almost —
father \ "

Mr. Shelford tried to look virtuously indio^nant.

" Wa — all — it was your own letters that gave me
the idea."

"You told him that?"

Maizie spoke so sharply that Dan jumped. But
he tried to brave it out.

"I did so — I was bound to, for he asked me."

"What did he say then?"

Maizie's eyes were dangerous now.

" I can't well remember. Xot much. Somethincr
about having made a mistake, and been on a wrong
track ; and then he went off. He looked that ugly !
I never saw an uglier pair of eyes. I was glad when
he did go. But there ain't anything to argue about.
He's gone and there's an end. I came to say it's

130 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

time to go. You get ready, gells, wliile I hitch up.
We have a good few miles to drive."

These last words Mr. Shelford uttered very rapidly
— beating a retreat before reply was possible. He
was, in truth, glad to escape. Perhaps it was well
he was able to do so.

CHAPTER IX.

THTTXDER IX THE AIE.

The drive from Cliico Springs to Shelford's ranche,
a matter of ten miles, was one of the most uncom-
fortable hours Dan Shelford ever spent in his life.
He had been really eager to see his daughters, and
had made many sacrifices for them ; while they, on
their part, had written long letters full of affec-
tionate anticipation, which had warmed and softened
the old man's heart in a manner no one but
the Ezekiel ]\Iixer, before mentioned, would have
conceived possible. And noAv, instead of the two
blithe girls Dan had dreamt of, recognising the old
landmarks and asking questions about old friends, —
cheering the dull country-side with their merry voices
and high spirits, — there were two silent young women
who seated themselves in the wagon as though it
were a prison-van, gazed down the road to Santa Fe
with their hearts in their eyes, and preserved towards

131

132 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

himself, tlieir own father, a demeanour of grave
reproach, if not of open offence.

But when at length the old home came in sight, the
girls began to take some interest in their surround-
ings. Alas ! all was changed. The house which,
when they last saw it, seemed to them a palace ht
for the President, was now only a small, mean-looking
log-hut, a spot of dark brown on a great expanse of
prairie — bare as a billiard-table from the tread of
thousands of sheep, and unrelieved by a tree or bush
of any kind.

The greatest shock of all, however, came when they
arrived there. A condition of things then became
apparent truly appalling to a woman's eye. Rubbish
and litter of the most unsightly description was
strewn in every direction. Here were some scores
of empty tomato tins, there an astonishing variety
of old kettles and two bottomless coffee-pots ; while
everywhere were bones, principally of sheep, scat-
tered as thickly as pebbles on the seashore.

In ranches where several men "batch" togetlier,
it is the custom to throw into space everything that
is not wanted, and convert the surrounding prairie
into a sort of universal dust-bin — with very unpleas-
ant results. To the girls the whoL place looked

THUNDER IX THE AIR. 133

more fit for rats and pigs to dwell in than human
beings, and Bel, who was in a very irritable and
touchy state of mind, had it on the tip of her tongue
to say so, if given the opportunity. A glance
at the door and porch, however, was more reassur-
ing. These were swept and clean, and as the
wagon drew up, a woman with a fresh, kindly face
bustled out and waved her apron with a cheery wel-
come.

This was Mrs. Ezekiel Mixer, to whom, as the girls
soon discovered, they owed more than she wotild ever
allow them to thank her for.

AVe have said that Dan Shelf ord meant well. His
intentions of -fixin' tip" for his '• gells *' were excel-
lent as far as they went, but then they did not go far.
It was lucky that he had to come to the Mixers to
buy the '^ few duds " which in his opinion girls
would need. Still more fortunate was it that when
he Avas ordering two quilts, two pairs of sheets, two
straw mattresses and a few other articles, all of the
cheapest and coarsest kind, that Mrs. Mixer grasped
the situation.

That good woman, one of the most courageous and
resolute souls in the United States, no sooner did
so than she left her work — even allowing her

134 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

bread to burn — to question Dan closely about
the whole business. His replies mader her shud-
der.

Now, it was a serious thing for any one, more es-
peciall}^ for any man, to make jNIrs. ]Mixer shudder.
Sooner or later he paid dearly for the achievement.
In Dan's case, Mrs. Mixer announced in her blandest
tones that what he said was very interesting, and if
he had no objection she Avould be pleased to visit
his ranche and gi^e him her opinion. It was now
Dan's turn to shudder. But he was helpless. The
very next day Mrs. Mixer came for a few hours and
looked round. The day after she came again with
a wagon full of things, including a bed for herself,
and for a week Dan did nothing but draw water,
cut firewood, burn mouldy household effects, and
cart new furniture from Cliico Springs under orders !
The result was that the internal arrangements of the
ranche were made fairly habitable. The condition of
things outside Mrs. Mixer, as a frontiersw^oman, con-
sidered an unimportant detail.

A comely woman she was. Five and thirty years
old, fresh coloured as a girl of tAventy, tall as a man,
with broad shoulders and a deep voice.

As the wagon stopped slie grasped the girls by

THUNDER IN THE AIE. 135

the hands, and swung tliem to the ground as if they
had been babies, talking all the time.

'^ Welcome, welcome to you both. Which is Maizie
and which Bel ? Ah, I see without telling. Well,
dears, I have had time to peak things a bit, and
make the old shanty some better than it was, bat
there's heaps wants doing. Now, friend Dan," turn-
ing sharply round, and altering her tone, " quick with
your team. Dinner only wants dishing up. Don't
forget what I told you about the mare's back. And
tell Jose if he don't dress more respeotable, now,
you'll look for a herder who do. And — mind you
ask Miguel if he scarified that snake-bitten ewe
this morning, and — but that will do at present.
Hurry up, I say, and get yourself w^ashed. These
travellers will be hungry."

When the girls had fairly turned their backs upon
the rubbish and looked round the interior of Shel-
ford's ranche, they felt comforted. The furni-
ture and fittings were of the homeliest description,
but cleanliness, tidiness, and housewifely completeness
reigned here.

Mrs. Mixer, meanwhile, after showing the girls their
room, " dished up," and talked all the time as fast as
her tongue could move.

136 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

" You will have times, girls, queer times. I clunno
whether you come with ideas of getting fun and
frolics," here she looked at Bel, " and gaddin' round
'scursioning and buggy-riding with the boys. If so,
take my word, you'd better not unpack, but just
naterally go back East by the next stage. But if
you've come to see that the old man lives a decent
life instead of pigging all his days like a Mexican,
and you mean to ivorh^ then I can talk to ye. What
do you know already ? Cooking ? Ah, ha ! — ]Miss
Bel tosses her head a little bit. I'd better climb
down and take a back seat, then. But, remember,
we don't have stores round the corner, nor neighbours
next door, nor a doctor over the way. Nor do we
get helps, who'll flop and scrub all they're worth while
we play the pianny and crimp our hair. Not for
any price that your dad is likely to offer will you
get any kind of help better than a Mexican boy
who will steal more than he'll save. So, work
you will have, young ladies — hard work. But, mind
one thing — make the men work all you know !
Whether he is a visitor or a Mexican, or your father
himself, never let a man on the ranche have a chance
even to light a pipe while a chore is left undone.
Out West here, a great part of a woman's comfort

THUNDER IN THE AIR. 137

depends in the way slie makes her men fly round.
There — supper's on the table, and your father only
just come in to clean himself. If that ain't like a
man ! AVhile he's in the kitchen, come into the
sleeping-room I'ye fixed up for myself, and look at
a present I haye for you."

Mrs. Mixer no\y spoke in a lo^yer tone and accom-
panied her words by seyeral nods and winks. The
girls followed her, smiling, into a bare little room,
cpjite unfurnished except for a few articles of rough
furniture and a roll of blankets and three sheep-
skins — which ]Mrs. ^lixer proudly exhibited as her
'' beddin " ^ — and a wooden box. Out of this box
^Nlrs. Mixer took a leather case. She was now yery
graye and spoke in impressiye tones.

" Don't be frightened, dears, by what I bring out.
This air will not ao-ree with your constitutions if
things scare you easily. A while ago you was
youno; ladies liying in the East. I remember your
good aunt, who brought you up since your mother's
death. She would haye eyerything just so. And
her husband had iiK)ney, and your liyes haye been

1 In 1873 women of Mrs. ^Mixer's type liked to show that they
coxild live in frontier simplicity ; it was not usual, otherwise, even
then, for ladies to have such primitive sleeping accommodation.

138 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

easy and tender and quiet. They Avill hardly be so
now. Those pretty white hands must grow hard
and strong. Until then — remember, never go out
alone on horseback or a-foot with any living man,
unless my husband, who hioivs, says it is all square.
And now see here what I have for ye — to make
you strong. There's my present. They are the best
Zeke ever sells."

She opened the case and handed each girl a re-
volver.

At this moment Dan, washed and in want of
supper, found his way into the room.

" Hello — shooting-irons ! Take care, Bel, my
daughter! There — there — keep the muzzle to the
ground. Is this safe, Mrs. Mixer, do you think?
I never could abide pistols. Such onlikely things,
too, for gells — don't you think ? "

At this hint, Mrs. Mixer's eyes resumed an expres-
sion which Dan did not like.

"There's truth in what you say, Dan Shelf ord.
And where men can protect the women of their fam-
ily, pistols ain't for girls. But where they cannot,
it is different. If one of these girls was to say,
' Shall I be safe living in this lonely ranche, my
father away a great part of his time, witlwut fire-

THUNDER IN THE AIR. 139

arms ? ' I should answer, no, and I should like —
I would very much like — to hear any man contra-
dict me, especially the man who is most responsible."

But Dan had already retired to the kitchen. Mrs.
]Mixer turned to the girls.

"My dears, tell me what you think yourselves."

They were talking to one another and did not
hear her, and Mrs. Mixer's keen eyes saw a suspi-
cion of tears in Maizie's eyes, as Bel said : —

" Why, it is exactly the same pattern and size of
the one he gave you, Maizie. How curious ! Is
yours in the trunk ? "

"I always carry it. He made me promise."

And then, to ]\Irs. Mixer's unbounded astonish-
ment, Maizie produced from a pocket in her dress a
revolver larger than the one in her hand.

''Can you use that, my dear?"

"A little."

"A little, indeed," struck in Bel. "Mrs. Mixer,
she is a splendid shot. Nat, who can shoot better
than any man I ever heard of, taught her most care-
fully. I always shut my eyes just before it goes
off — I cannot help it, and I suppose that rather
spoils my aim — but Maizie never shuts her eyes."

" Well, I'm sure," exclaimed Mrs. Mixer, smiling.

140 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

'' if I don't have to climb clown now I I forgot
what frontierswomen jou were — trained by experi-
enced hands. Well, let's find your father, and have
supper. I am going to be here a little spell to see
you settled in. Maizie shall teach me to shoot. My
word ! "

Mrs. Mixer stayed two weeks. Her husband came
down before the end of the first week, and threatened
to return in twenty-four hours with a lasso, and take
her home by force ; but she told him she would not
be cheated out of a holiday, after being married to
him five years. And then they had a long talk
together, after which he went home without further
protest. That evening Mrs. Mixer caught Dan Shel-
ford over his pipe after supper, and had an inter-
view with closed doors, which the girls thought Avould
never end. The next day she announced to the girls
that it was settled that the ranche was not a safe
place for them to live in, that their father had given
his consent to their going to stay at Chico Springs
for the next few months, until the country Avas in a
better state — and that to Chico Springs they would
return with her forthwith.

Mrs. Mixer was a clever woman, with a kind heart
and the best intentions. But for all that she made

THU^'DER IX THE AIR. 141

mistakes sometimes, and it was not long before she
discovered that she had made one noAv. Bel, it was
true, said she would go if her father really wished
it, but Maizie met the jDi'opoSt'^l with a quiet but
determined negative.

"I came out to be with father," she said simply.
" I knew from the first that life would be dif-
ferent from St. Louis. And I have guessed lately
that we might be in danger. You tell me, dear Mrs.
Mixer, no more than this. It is verv kind of vou to
ask us to come to yoti and I am very glad Bel is
going, but I shall not leave father. I am quite pre-
pared to take the risk — I intend to take it, thank
you. I am C|uite sure father wants me."

"And I will stay with her," cried Bel, with height-
ened colour; "Maizie shall not be here alone — that
I am quite determined about."

Mrs. Mixer, however, was not to be easily beaten.
She went all over the ground again, and with Maizie's
assistance reduced Bel to submission ; but she could
do no more, and after talking until she nearly lost
her voice, and making Dan's life a misery to him, she
departed with Bel, and left Maizie to follow her own
devices.

The first few days after Mrs. ^Mixer's departure were

142 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

a time of great restfulness to Maizie, and she slept
better than she had done for weeks. Now, at last,
in the sunny September afternoons when her house-
hold work was done, she could quietly think out
the hopes and disappointments of which her life
had been rather full lately, examine them impar-
tially, and understand their true meaning without
feeling that Mrs. Mixer's eyes were always watching
her, and without being constantly interrupted by
that good woman's busy tongue.

At times she was restless, and caught herself won-
dering whether Nat would not walk in some day
with Shep at his heels, as if nothing had happened.
It was impossible to believe that she Avould never
see him again. Now that he was not with her, all
that his devotion and care really meant seemed to
become clear. He was in love with Bel, — that
Maizie never doubted for an instant, — and loved her
with a depth and force to which they had both been
blind until it was too late. How easy, now, to
understand that reticence and reserve of his on
those last days. In his humility and in his pride
he was afraid lest he should seem to make some
claim upon Bel by his great services. Therefore as
they drew nearer to their friends, so he became more

THUNDER IX THE AlE. 143

nervous and diffident, and when as a culminating
point their father so bitterly misunderstood him by
offering money, he fled altogether.

Poor Xat. and poor Bel. But here Maizie stopped,
and fell into a different train of thought. She loved
her sister dearly. Yet somehow, of late, she had
become less blind to certain faults or weaknesses of
character, of which before they left St. Louis she
had not been conscious. Did Bel love Xat ? She
liked him ; she was. in a way, fond of him — but
love, such as Xat craved for, did the child know
Avliat it meant ? This doubt saddened ]Maizie. Xat
would come back — he could not help it. Probably
he would come to her, Maizie, as a sister, and it
would rest with her to bring about a meeting with
Bel at the right time and in the right way. This
could be done easily : but if Bel did not care —

Two weeks went by, uneventful weeks for Maizie.
Xo one came to disturb her, and none of the dangers
at which Mrs. Mixer had darkly hinted ever showed
themselves at all. All day long tlie girl Avas alone
except at meals, and when her father was with her
there was not much said. Yet she had the satisfac-
tion of seeing tliat he looked better and more cheer-
ful, eat his food with a better appetite, and, at

144 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

times, talked of old days and of his business, as
if it Avere a relief to have her sympathy and com-
panionship.

But this quiet time was not to last much longer.
One day, when Maizie was sweeping out the kitchen
in the middle of the morning, she heard a soft foot-
step, and Jose, her father's foreman herder, enquired
for the Seiior with a certain abruptness she did
not quite like. He went away immediately with the
politest of bows when she told him the time Dan
was to come home, but all day long she felt nervous
and uncomfortable, and was more relieved than she
would have avowed to any one when the old wagon
rattled in at last. She noticed that her father fumed
and muttered to himself when he heard of Jose's
visit. They had supper as usual, but before the
things were cleared away a sharp tap came at the
door, and all the Mexicans, Jose at their head,
trooped into the room and stood twirling their hats,
like school -boys who had broken rules. A fine stal-
wart set they were — a family of brothers.

The man least embarrassed was Jose himself. He
looked his master straight in the face, and spoke out
boldly.

"Senor, we bring bad news. We are all here —

THUNDER IN THE AIR. 145

Maximo from liis camp in the Mesa Grande — Juan
from Rio Salvadore, and me and ]\Iiguel and Ilario.
If we had not come we shouhl not be alive.
Vacheros Texano, many in numljcr. have spoken with
pistols in our faces. They said, • This country is
for cattle and not sheep. Any man who herds
sheep on the ranges here shall die.' Then they said
they spoke from their masters, and that you knew
all, and that before many days are over, you will
be — "

He pulled up abruptly, glanced at Maizie, and
ended his sentence by whispering something in his
masters ear.

Dan did not speak for a moment. He glared at
the men with so fierce an expression that they kept
an apprehensive eye upon the movements of his right
hand. At last he snarled out : —

" Is this all ? No wonder cowboys despise you.
You do not ask for pistols or rifles to kill these
devils. You only run away."

The men now began to scowl in their turn, and
Jose rejoined quickly : —

"You are a brave man, Seiior. So brave that you
have not even a shot-s^un in vour house. How then
could we ask for arms ? And if we did, would you

146 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

spend one dollar to save our lives? No — you
would let your poor herders die like dogs. Our
lives are not worth money to you, so they are of no
value. Why should we fight for you? No. You
must find other men. To-morrow my brothers will
take the sheep out for the last time, while you go
to Chico Springs and get the money that is owing
for our service. It is this that I wish to tell you —
we herd for you only one more day."

He put on his hat and stalked out, followed by his
brothers, who saluted Maizie in turn but took no
notice of Dan.

When the door closed Maizie looked anxiously at
her father. He was still frowning. Now he stamped
his foot, and made use of expressions which nearly
sent Maizie out of the room. Then he began to
walk up and down talking half to himself, half to
her.

"I shall go to Zeke Mixer. These boys shall be
arrested for breaking contract, if it costs me all. It
means ruin if they leave me. Nine thousand sheep —
I can't herd nine thousand, and the cowboys will
scare away every Mexican I can pick up, as they have
done these."

THUNDER IN THE AIR. 147

'' But, father, would tliey not threaten your life if
you did go out?"

" Threaten ? They have been at that game for
months. I am not afraid of their bluster. A man
does not live twenty-five years on the frontier to
tremble at these young ]3ull-whackers. iS^ow you go
to bed, child. We'll fix things to-morrow. Zeke
Mixer can do it, some way, and it'll save herder's
wages. Not a cent will they get. The worst is to
think of those sheep eating up the grass all around
this range, wdien they might be in camp. Curse
the white-livered greasers."

He sank back into his chair with a groan, and when
^Nlaizie, after an interval, passed into the kitchen,
she saw him crouched before the stove with hag-
gard face, muttering incoherently to himself, and she
went to bed with a heavy heart, the word " ruin "
ringing in her brain.

CHAPTER X.

THE STORM BUHSTS.

Dan rose so early the next morning that IMaizie
was inclined to suspect that he had never been to
bed at all. But he was in better spirits, and drove
away before sunrise in a comparatively cheerful frame
of mind. He was not so cheerful when he reached
Chico Springs. A fear haunted him lest he might
be so early that business at the store would not
have begun, in which case he would be invited to
step into Mrs. Mixer's parlour, and he did not feel
at all equal to facing Mrs. Mixer.

He need not have troubled himself, however.
Though it was barely half-past six, the store was
open and the master in his shirt sleeves was putting
the finishing touches to his arrangement of goods for
the day.

No one in Chico Springs had ever seen Mr. jNIixer
in a hurry, yet he had never been late for an appoint-

148

THE STORM BURSTS. 149

ment. No one had ever heard him laugh, yet his
wit \\'as proverbial in the county. Few liad ever
known him speak more than a dozen words at a time,
yet he was consulted Ijy numbers of men about their
private affairs, and gave more advice tlian many
lawyers. He was a man who heard everything and
betrayed nothing ; of keen business faculty ; a hard
worker, honest in all his dealings, and strict about
payment of just debts. So much was known about
him ]jy his neighbours and acquaintances. It was
also said that he was rich, far richer than his simple
way of living Avould lead any one to suspect. Here
all knowledge, and even conjecture, on the part of
the good folk of Chico Springs ended. All men liked
Mixer; even the rowdy elements of which Calumet
County was now so full, looked upon him as an insti-
tution as firmly established as republican govern-
ment, and as little concerned with their affairs. How
they would have stared had they known his previous
history ; and if they had •suspected what lay beneath
his coolness and taciturnity, how religiously they
would have avoided the old log store, or conspired
for its destruction.

Mr. :\Iixer was fifty years old. His father had
been a friend of John Brown's of Harper's Ferry, and

150 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

from earliest childhood Zeke was not only a staunch
abolitionist by belief, but had taken active part in the
protection of fugitive slaves when such work meant
constant danger and public shame. In this atmos-
phere he was brought u]) ; he volunteered in the
beginning of the war, and fought through to the end,
receiving a commission at last from the hands of
General Grant.

Since the war ended Mixer liad been one of the
most peaceable of citizens, and so he wished to re-
main while he lived. But beneath the quiet surface
of his orderly way of life, the embers of the fire of
old days still smouldered, and the stern spirit which
no danger could turn aside, and nothing but death
would stay, required but a spark to rouse it again
into action.

To this man, the only human being whom
he trusted, Dan Shelford told the story of his
woes.

"There you have it, Zeke — nine thousand sheep
and not a herder to be got for fifty miles unless you
can find him. For that I've come to you. As for
the trash who are deserting me, not a red cent will
they get for all their summer's work. That will save
something. I told Jose this morning that their con-

THE STORM BURSTS. 151

tracts ain't up for nine months, and if they choose to
break them now their wage shall go to better men."

To this. Mixer, who had seated himself on a barrel
of crackers and listened to Dan's news with half-
closed eves, re^jlied with a grunt that was not at all
s}Tiipathetic.

"Where are those better men?"

••Ah — there yon come in, old friend. I want you
to tind them. You haye neyer failed me yet. Once
you ptit your linger down there's naught can stand
agin you."'

'^ Dry up.''

Dan. used to this style of address, obeyed.

"Set down on that bar'l."

He did so. and neryously rubbed his knees.

^Ir. IMixer looked at him for some time without
speaking.

^- Dan Shelford." he said at length in the tone of
a judge pronouncing sentence of death — a tone he
only used towards yery intimate friends, — ''there is
only one way out for such a man as you — only
one."

"And that way, Zeke?"

" Pull up stakes at oncet, and strike a new country.
East, west, or south. Kansas, Californy, or Arizona,

152 A SON OF THE PLAIHS.

where 3^011 please. Only go — that is the begimimg
and the end of it."

Shelford shook his head, and an exj)ression of
obstinacy came into his face which caused Zeke to
give an internal chuckle.

"Is that all you have to say, Zeke?"

" Are you going? "

''No."

" Then I'll reason with you. You are a marked
man. Cattlemen, good and bad alike, hate you. If
your Mexicans had not been the best croAvd I ever
heard of, you would have lost hundreds of sheep
before this. And now you've quarrelled with them.
Get as many JNIexicans as you please — your sheep
will fall one by one, night after night. By and b3^e
3'our turn will come. It would have come long
ago, but that the rowdies aren't quite boss of this
countr3^, and daren't try that just 3^et. Don't ask
me ivhy th.Qj hate 3^ou. A dozen reasons don't
soften one hard fact. Yet I will sa3" this — when
sheep-men in a dry year fence in every water-hole for
fifty mile and cattle are d3dng of thirst, 'tain't a good
time for sheep-men to tr3^ to insure their lives. I know
the water was on 3^our ranges, but that did not keej)
the cattle alive. The cowbo3^s are going to have you

THE STOKM BUKSTS. 153^

out. The autumn round-ups are closed, and they
have leisure to amuse themselves. The threat to
your ^Mexicans is the lirst volley. All this is truth,
Dan Slielford. And there is no way but one — you
\\ ill liave to git."

The old sheep-man left his barrel and stood
squarely before his judge and adviser. He looked
smaller and meaner in stature than usual, for Mixer
was fully six feet high, yet at this moment there was
a solemnity in his weak voice and a dignity in his
dry manner that ]\lixer, long as he had known him,
had never seen before.

"Friend Zeke, I ain't come here to argy, and I
don't intend to try. But you must understand me
before I walk out of your store. Twenty years ago
I came into Calumet County. I took up my land
by right of citizenship, built my house, and with what
was left kept my family. This I did without asking
aid from any man, and without wronging any, or
pushing one from his rights. I u'orked day out, day
in — summer and winter — through bad times and
good. I worked all I knew, and so I made my way to
what I am now. The land was surveyed by Govern-
ment ; and the marks of the ranges laid down then
are there still, and I have never gone beyond them.

154 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

I tell you now, — as I told the cattlemen's association
three months back, — while those marks stand good I
hold to the land which is my right, and I will not
leave it while I live, for any man or men. I am
getting old, and I am no fighter. But no threats
shall drive me off ; and if the shooting comes, Avell —
I ain't lost my eyesight yet, and little as I am, p'raps
I can pull a trigger spry as some. And I will fight^
before I leave the only bit of earth I may call my
own.

"But — there — I take up your time. I dunno
what to be at, and it seems you don't. I'll go my
ways and worry through alone. Only — when I quit
Calumet County 'twill be for further than Arizona,
Zeke, or Kansas, or even Californy. It will be to
prospect in another world. Adios."

He turned to go. Mixer answered nothing. His
head was resting in his hand, his eyes half closed
again, he seemed buried in thought. But when Dan
reached the door, Mr. Mixer looked up.

"Daniel."

Dan glanced at him doubtfully.

" Set down where you was before. "

The old man came slowly back. Mr. Mixer's eyes
were open now.

THE STORM BURSTS. 155

"Danl, what does tliis mean? You fight I You
risk body and life and limb to keep what yon call
yonr own ? Are yon in dead, downright earnest ?
By all that's sacred in tliLs world, old friend, there's
more for good or ill hanging to the reply you make,
than any words you've spoken smce you were a
baby on yonr mother's knee. Tell me again.*'

The storekeeper was on his feet now, and the
men gripped one another's hands.

"You ain't seen me before with my back agin the
wall, Zeke. I'm drove there now. I say that they
may kill me, but they shall never set me down."'

Mixer's face worked with excitement, and he wrung
the old man's hand till liis muscles cracked.

''Then I'll stand by ye, Dan'l, all I'm worth.
And if I'm not so vouno-. I know more than I used
to do. Xow, let us count the cost. There will be
money to be lost and lives. We're but few. They're
manv. Whenever the fighting comes, it will be with
knives, so to speak, and at close hand-grips, and our
weapons must be sharper at the point, quicker handled,
and of better steel than theirs. Do you sabe ? Then
to business."

Zeke was sitting at the counter now, as composedly
as when Dan first told his storv. There was a gleam

156 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

of liiimour in his eyes as he watched Dan's tightly
drawn lips and anxious expression.

" Dan'l, your boys must stay and fight. I'll sell

— no, I'll lend — you six repeating rifles, new pattern,
centre fire, with same number of Colt's army pistols
and knives — taken from a lot I picked up the other
day and laid by. The knives are English steel and
worth their weight in silver. What's the matter now,

— the expense ? Didn't I say they should be a loan ? "
Dan winced.

" Tain't that, good friend. I put all that behind
me, I swear I do. It's this — the boys won't fight.
They think I can't shoot worth a cent. And come
to that, I don't suppose I could do much beyond
twenty yards with a shot-gun, let alone anything
else."

" Pay a man to take hold of them for ye — a man
who can shoot."

" Can you find him ? I don't know nary one I'd
trust."

Zeke remained silent for a little while, as if con-
sidering the point.

"If I did find one Avhom I thought fit, would you
take him — and pay him ? "

"I — I would, Zeke. But don't forget Maizie."

THE STOilM BUESTS. 157

"Well, then, I do know such a one. But mmd,
the work is tough, and the risk immense. He must
name his price."

Dan visibly wriggled, but conquered himself.

" That's reasonable — providing he's the right one."

'^ I know he's that. Of course I have not spoken
to him about this, and he may decline, and he's kind
of set up in some ways and not every man's money.
So let me have it straight, will you take him ? "

''I will."

'^ At his own figure ? "

Dan bit his lip till it bled.

'* If — if he's your friend, yes."

Mixer shook his head.

" He ain't exactly that. But he's my recommend,
— if he'll come into it. AYill that do?"

"If you're satisfied, I suppose — I guess it will."

" Then I'll find him out, and introduce him. Of
course your little girl will come to us at once to
stay. Take a glance at the knives. I put points
on every one myself. You can nearly shave with
'em. And the rifles — see. all are cleaned and oiled.
Look down that bar'l. Bright as a mirror, eh ?
You just remark, Dan'l friend, that well-cleaned
arms is worth all when the pinch comes, for then

158 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

every shot goes straight and eveiy knife drives
home. ^ly old dad tauglit me that twent}' years ago,
and I ain't forgotten it since."

Dan stared at his friend with dropping jaw.

''Where in the etarnals, Zeke. did you take hokl
of this kind of learnino- — in the war?"

" War ? Ten years before the war. But see,
we're wasting time. 'Tain't me that's interesting,
it's the weapons. Look at them and choose out
your number while I have a word with my wife.
We'll lix all up this morning."

He left the store and opened the door of a large
room, half parlour, half kitchen. There, near the
stove, was Mrs. Mixer, her hands kneading dough,
her eyes wandering to the other side of the room,
where two people were playing with a curly-headed
youngster of six years old. One of these was Bel,
who was assisting in the construction of a brick
tower. The other, a man Avith broad shoulders and
brown face, Avas watching the girl as she worked,
and handing her the bricks one by one. So ab-
sorbed were these people in their occupation that
Mr. Mixer's entrance was unnoticed, and ]\Irs.
Mixer had time to give him to understand that he
must not disturb them. Zeke smiled back into his

THE STORM BUKSTS. 159

wife's eyes, and stood waiting patiently. At last
he made his presence known by a Ioav sepulchral
cough. Both looked up and the man rose.

'' Want me, storekeeper ? "

u\Ya — al, that depends I I don't wish to spile an
important building contract, but I have a few words
for you."

There was a general laugh, and Bel found it
necessary to give her handiwork close and particular
examination.

" Oh, we have finished. There, Sammy, darling,
that will do for the roof. ^Ir. Collingwood, you are
dismissed, and sonny is very much obliged to you."

She looked up at him with laughing eyes, and
Mr. and Mrs. Mixer glanced at one another.

The consultation between the men was very short,
and they went at once into the store. Dan Avas
awaiting them anxiously, wondering what manner
of man Zeke had picked up. The appearance of
Jeff took liis breath aw^ay. From Jei^'s smartly
embroidered shirt to his rolling gait — sure sign of
a riding man — he was a cowboy par excellence^ and
for twenty years cowboys had been the bane of
Dan's existence. But Dan was possessed with but
one idea just now, and would not have refused the

160 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

aid of the Evil One himself, if Mixer had recom-
mended him.

Without hesitation of any kind he agreed to
engage Jeff, Mixer fixing the rate of payment.
Dan's chief anxiety appeared to be that there should
be no delay. All he said was : —

"You heft the chances, young man? Six Mexi-
cans to hold to a contract they have given up, and
all the country agin us ? "

Jeff smiled at the storekeeper.

"I have reckoned it, and what strength I have is
yours. Mr. Mixer knows."

No more words were spoken. Dan had set aside
the arms he wanted, and with a parting grip of
Zeke's hand hurried to his wagon. Jeff followed,
after saddling his horse with a rapidity that won
Dan's cordial approval, and off they started at a
good thirteen miles an hour.

Was it presentiment, or was it the nervous irrita-
tion of mind natural to a peaceable man committed
to a policy of war, which made Dan drive that day
as most assuredly those fat mules of his had never
been driven before. In three-quarters of an hour,
with Jeff's horse at the lope and the mules trotting
for dear life, the ranche came in sight. Down the

THE STORM BURSTS. 161

gentle slope of bare prairie-land the old wagon
bumped, rattled, and swung. The mules were now
so near home that they went faster than ever, and
Jeff's lope became a hand gallop. The house was
reached, and with a noise that Avould have awakened
the Seven Sleepers, the wagon rattled round the
corner, and drew uj) at the door where ]\Irs. ]\Iixer
had greeted the girls three weeks ago. Dan pulled
in with an exclamation of surprise and something
more upon his lips. The kitchen door and the
parlour window were open, but no Maizie came to
greet them. Jeff saw the old man's face turn as
white as death.

" Where is my gell ? " he gasped. " There's some-
thing wrong."

Jeff waited to hear no more. With what seemed
to Dan a single bound, he was off his horse and on
the kitchen porch. The kitchen was in confusion.
On the table were plates, knives and forks and tum-
blers. A frying-pan was on the stove half full of
meat, burnt black. Jeff cocked his revolver, and
passed through to the next room, the parlour. The
place Avas completely wrecked; the white drugget
which Maizie had laid down with her own hands
was strewn with broken chairs and deeply stained

162 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

with blood, even the pictures had been torn from the
walls and smashed. All this Jeff took in at a glance ;
and then, hearing from the room beyond a faint
moaning sound, he strode through the debris and
opened the door. This was Maizie's room. The
dainty bed, with its snowy-white coverlet, the natty
book-shelf on the wall, a dressing-table with a mirror
still untouched by rude hands, and a rocking-chair,
proved this. But Jeff saw none of these things.
Stretched by the bed, gasping for breath, lay a dying
man. He was still conscious, for he moved one hand
and tried to speak.

"Jose!" exclaimed Dan hoarsely, — he had kept
close to Jeff, liis face rigid and white with a horror
that could not be put into words. " My God ! Ask
him what has happened."

''Quiet!'' said Jeff sternly, "or leave the room.
This is life or death. We'll get nothing if he's
flurried."

He dropped on his knees by the Mexican, and
taking a flask from his pocket poured a little brandy
between his lips. After this had been repeated once
or twice, the man whispered something in Spanish.
Jeff placed his ear close to the feeble lips and lis-
tened.

THE ST0R3[ BURSTS. 163

" Desperado Vacheros — la Senorita — I saw them —
too late — ten to one."

He gasped and choked, and they feared it was his
last breath. But with more hrandv he rallied ao-ain.

"They take her to Amenta. You go after, quick.'''

Again he stopped ; and now from his throat came
the rattle of approaching death, and his eyes closed.
Jeff asked a question twice, and the lips moved
slowly.

" Sandy Rathlee," he said, and died.

A despised half-breed, poor Jose. Liable to steal,
always willing to lie, and only really happy at the
gaming-table. Yet no hero ever died a nobler death.
Jeff, who had hitherto held the race in contempt, felt
a sudden shame as he looked at the poor disfigured
face and thought of wliat this ^Mexican had done.
But it was no time for moralizing.

He sprang up, and found his arm grasped by Dan,
whose face was more s^hastlv than the dead man's.

" Where is she ? Amenta ? A hole of devils I Oh
Lord, oh Lord I But we'll follow. It can't be long
since they left, for look how he's bled. 'Twotild have
killed hint if he had lain more than an hour. Otir
beasts are better than theirs, may])e, and there's thirty
miles to run. Why do you shake your head? Is it

164 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

the danger? I'll go alone. What! leave my own
little one in the hands of Rathlee? You get back
to Mixer's. Let me be. I will have my way."

But his hands were shaking even while he spoke,
and he could hardly stand so much had the shock
affected him. Jeff told him so, and half led, half
dragged him to the wagon. But Dan swore he
would not leave the ranche except to ride to Amenta
to kill Sandy Rathlee, and struggled fiercely all the
way. Jeff was at his wit's end. To ride after ten
desperate men, even if Dan had been really fit for
it, Avould be madness. The only chance lay in organ-
ising a rescue party from Chico Springs without
delay, and here Avere precious minutes flying through
the ravings of a frantic old man. At last Jeff's
blood rose to boiling-point, and he was about to tie
Dan into the wagon with his lasso, Avhen he heard
the patter of soft feet, and a dog fawned upon him.

" Nat's Shep, by the Lord ! " he exclaimed, and the
next moment he saw Nat himself walking leisurely
towards the ranche.

The news was told in half a dozen words, and
then Jeff saw what he never afterwards forgot. It
is terrible to see any strong nature roused to fury,
but the sight of a man so moved, whom you have

THE STORM BURSTS. 165

hitherto thought as incapable of losing his self-con-
trol as a piece of iron, is blood-curdling.

Xat said little enough. But liis face stiffened, his
brows contracted, the veins in his forehead stood out
like cords, and an expression came into his eyes that
struck CA'en Dan, half-crazed as he was, and caused
him to laugh a mirthless laugh.

" You are going to follo^Y her. Come with me
and let this coward ride back."

'' Coward be hanged,"' cried Jeff, losing all patience.
" I am not afraid of fifty Rathlee gangs, but where's
the use of being shot? If I don't saye the girl I
want to burn the town, and I can't do that alone.
Do you see my meaning, Xat ? "

"Ride back and bring them on. You" — turning
suddenly upon Dan — *• go Avith him. This is my
business. Off with you both, and leaye Rathlee to
me."

He glared into their faces as he spoke, as if he
could haye killed them for standing in his way.
Then he passed his hand oyer his eyes with a sigh,
and walked quietly into the ranche. They watched
for him, wondering what he was about. In a few
moments he reappeared with something in his hand
— one of Maizie's hats. He knelt on the ground

166 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

and called his dog ; then as Shep came sniffing at
the hat, he gave some order and the dog dropped
to heel. Nat threw the hat away, and began to walk
slowly from the house. Presently the walk became
a swinging trot. He was on the trail.

The Rathlee gang were well-mounted and well-
armed. If overtaken they would fight as only such
men can fight, and they had tasted blooQl. But in
the heart of the man who followed them was that
which gave him the strength of ten. Rathlee had
robbed the nest. He had now to pay his price.

CHAPTER XI.

IX THE LIOX'S DEX.

It ^Yas a blistering, stifling day. There was no
^yind — nothing but light, and heat, and dust. Thun-
der was in the air, — a rare thing in September, —
and l)Y common consent every soul in Amenta city
who could find an excuse for lounging in the shade,
employed such energy as the heat had left in him
in languidly gambling for small stakes, which the
winners thereof spent immediately afterwards in

drinks.

Amenta contained at this time about a hundred and
fifty peox^le. and covered a square half-mile of ground.
The dwellino's were of wood — smart ^' frame" shan-
ties painted black and white. All were very much
alike ; all, except the stores, were surrounded by a
fence of barbed wire, enclosing a small paddock and
a tiny stable, and all looked as if they had been built
in a day, and might be blown away in a night.

107

168 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

The stores, twenty in number, formed an apology for
a street. They sported as usual very large signboards,
and little else ; and by the number of their broken
windows, stuffed with brown paj)er, the rotten
state of their sidewalks, and the mildewed ap-
pearance of the storekeepers, who looked as if they
transacted most of their business after midnight, —
which many of them did, — it appeared as if store-
keeping was not a profitable way of gaining a liveli-
hood in Amenta city.

There was only one building in the business quar-
ter of Amenta Avhich looked prosperous, and seemed
to have been made to last. This was Nan Sheehan's
saloon — known colloquially as "Nan's." It was
built of adobe (Mexican brick) and was bullet-proof,
fire-proof, and hard and durable as stone. Here all
night long, and for a great part of the day, a large
portion of the citizens of Amenta passed their time.
" Nan's " and the race-course outside the town, where
the horse-breeders of this part of the country arranged
"trotting matches," were the principal features of
Amenta city. On the course men lost their money ;
at Nan's they borrowed more to try their luck again.

A town where racing, gambling, and drink reigned
supreme was not likely to be a dwelling-place for

IX THE lion's den. 169

honest folk, and for Uyo years past Amenta had
been a rendezvous for all the scoundrels of the sur-
rounding country. Such places exist all over the
world ; but, perhaps, in the western frontier in the
United States twenty years ago, they were to be
seen at their worst. Frontier life in those days was
lawless enough anywhere. The men who lived quietly
did so not by obeying laws or paying for a well -or-
ganised police, but by minding their own business,
and sivinof those who had no business clearlv to
understand that they were not wanted, and that if
they interfered with peaceable men they would
receive short shrift. At times, even in the best of
settlements, robbery and murder would occur. In-
stantly these quiet stock-breeders and keepers of
stores left their business to chase and arrest the
criminal ; then tried him, and within twenty-four
hours of the trial killed him, without fnss or excite-
ment, pronouncing sentence and carrymg it out as
methodically as they branded their calves or sheared
their sheep.

In the worst settlements order of a sort was main-
tained by the existence of a clique or ^^ring" ; and the
inhaljitants of the surrounding country, though often
suffering severely from the depredations of despera-

170 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

does and rowdies who had a stronghold to fly to, let
them be with the tolerance characteristic of Ameri-
cans, and thus, in certain places, a state of things
prevailed almost inconceivable in a land of advanced
civilization.

Amenta at this time had touched the lowest level
possible even for such a sink of iniquity. The
troubled state of Calumet County, New Mexico,
owing to the feud of sheep and cattle men, had
attracted there the worst characters from other ter-
ritories, and Amenta was their headquarters. Among
others came Sandy Rathlee, Kansas being an uncom-
fortably warm locality since his brush Avith Dave
Calderon. Of the many types of degraded human
nature common in a lawless community, Rathlee was
N( the worst. Born in Missouri, bred in Texas, his
father a mulatto, his mother a white woman of the
lowest character, the boy learned nothing but what
was bad. At five and twenty years of age he could
neither read nor write. He had never known what
gentleness meant. His fine physique and daring
won the respect of men of a certain class ; and an
energy and quickness of brain in the man made him
a leader, and, in such times as these, he became a
power to be reckoned with. In an evil hour it was

IX THE lion's DEX. 171

suggested by a member of the Cattlemen's Associa-
tion that he should be employed as a scourge to
their enemies. A sum of money was paid over to
him tu harry and intimidate quiet men. His first act
was the raid upon Shelfurd's ranclie, and early in
the afternoon he rode into to\\n bearing Maizie as a
prize for all the world to see. The audacity of the
adventure excited much enthusiasm among Amenta
men. The cruelty and atrocity of it was not appar-
ent to them. Maizie had fainted from the heat and
could make no appeal to the few who might have
felt some compunction ; and Rathlee, having lodged
his booty safely, swaggered into the bar of Xan's to
receive the chaff and congratulations of his friends.

This was at two o'clock, in the fiercest heat of the
day. Three hotirs later a solitary wayfarer. foUoAved
by a footsore dog, walked slowly down the road be-
tween the line of stores. Xo one noticed him. Xo
one watched to see where he went, or wondered what
his business might be. If they had known it, how
they woidd have laughed. Xat, himself, felt a cold
chill of despair as he observed the number of people
about, and thought of the hopelessness of setting his
liand ao'aiiist them. He was worn out and spiritless.
A run of thirtv miles under an almost tropical

172 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

sun, without rest or food, had exhausted even his
iron frame. Nothing but his training among the
Comanches woukl have enabled him to do it at all.
And now that it was done, what then ? Where was
Maizie ? The track of the horsemen had been lost
among others on the outskirts of the town, and here
Avere fifty houses, more or less, in any one of which
she might be. Nat sighed heavily, then with a
great effort controlling his feeling of utter Aveariness
he stood still and considered. Where could infor-
mation be obtained? He looked about for an hotel
and spied the saloon. To this house he bent his
steps, watching the faces of . the men at the bar
door. This entrance Nat carefully avoided, choos-
ing a door Avhich seemed to belong to the kitchen
at the back. Here he knocked gently. The door
was opened by a tall, middle-aged Avoman, no other
than Mistress Nan Sheehan herself, Avho asked his
business in a suspicious tone. Nat tried to ansAver,
but found his throat so parched AAdth thirst that he
could not speak. He saAV a bucket in the corner
Avith a dipper in it, and dumbly asked for Avater.
Nan Sheehan looked at him Avith her head on one
side. She Avas a Avoman Avithout a moral scruple of
any kind — a tigress in her cups. Every one feared

IX THE lion's den. 173

her — even Sandy Rathlee. And this afternoon, for
various reasons, she was sulkier than usuah Yet even
Kan Sheehan had a soft spot in her heart, and there
was something so haggard and Aveary in Xat's face
that the words she had intended to use died unspoken
on her hps, and Avith a grunt slie pointed to the bucket.

"Help yourself, then."

Nat stepped past her, and filling the dipper to the
brim, drank its contents at a draught.

The woman smiled.

" Feel better ? Have another, son. Do you travel
far ? "

Xat did not ansAA'er for a moment — the most criti-
cal moment in his life. The sight of Nan's face,
coarse and Ijad. her eyes dull and V)lood-sliot from
constant drinkino% her mouth hard and cruel, had made
him determine not to stop here, and Avhen he raised
the dipper to his lips he intended to take his departure
at once. But the cool sjDring Avater cleared his brain
and eye, and though to Nan he appeared to Ije look-
ing into her face, he had seen something that droA'e
aAvay all feeling of fatigue and sent the blood surg-
ing through his A'eins at racing speed. It AA^as a
girl's sun-bonnet, lying on the back of the cliair
where the bucket of Avater stood.

174 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

" I don't know, ma'am," he said slowly. " That
depends on 3-ou. Will you give me a bed to-night?
I have the stamps."

He put his hand into his pocket and drew out a
five-dollar bill.

Nan's eyes glistened. The careless manner with
which Nat handled his money convinced her that
there was more to come. But she shook her head.

"Hardly possible, friend. We're crowded up.
Dessay you may have heard " — here she gave a leer
that made Nat want to strangle her — " that a rush
of folk has come to-night. I reckoned to give up
my own room, and camp out. Yet — you have had
a hard tramp, and there ain't a bed fit to sleep in
anywhere else. We'll fix things, board included, for
that note. Will that do ye?"

Nat handed her the money. "What I want most
is food. Any supper, mother ? "

The woman laughed. "We'll get some in a jiff —
but say ! Do you sup alone ? The boys will be in from
the bar presently, and you'll have good compan3^"

" I'll eat by myself, I guess. After, when they
are ready, I would like to play. Sandy Rathlee
here to-night ? " He asked the question softly, and
dropped his eyes.

IX THE lion's den. 175

The woman stared. " What's that for ? " she said
in a hoarse, strained voice. " What have you to do
with Sandy ? Tell me qnick, or you don't come
further."

Nat saw that he had made a very serious blun-
der. '• I wish to play with him,'' he replied
promptly, — "a fair, square game." Then, as he saw
the woman still eyeing him suspiciously, " I will
tell you something. We met some weeks ago, and
he nearly cleaned me of six thousand dollars. I
want you — if he's here to-night — to give me a
show to be even Avith him, and to hold the stakes."

Nan's brow cleared, though she still looked curi-
ous. '' I'll do it, son. Durned if you ain't a boy
after my own heart, small though you be. Why
there ain't another man in the county would ha'
dared to think of such a thing. You shall have
your way, a fair show and all. Come now and
have your supper quiet in my room. We must fix
up the game there, away from the boys. Have you
six thousand on you now ? "

Nat coughed and hesitated, or pretended to hesitate
in his answer, and Nan laid her hand on his mouth.
''There, then — say nothing. 'Tweren't a fair ques-
tion no ways. Follow me now, and Avalk quiet."

176 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

She led the way through the kitchen and down a
long dark passage. Nat's faculties were now strung to
the highest pitch ; as Nan turned away he seized
upon the sun-bonnet, and dropped it under Shep's
nose. The dog snuffed at it, and then, with a low
whine, took it in his mouth. At a sign from Nat
he dropped it again, and Nan found them close
behind her when she entered the passage. There
were three doors there, one to the left, one at the
end, one to the right. The last of these was open,
and led to the upper regions of the house. Nan
passed it and Nat followed her, but Shep stood
still. With his fore-feet on the first step he looked
wistfully at his master, moving his nose slowly
from side to side, and sniffing at the air. Nat set
his teeth and drew a long breath. How he longed
to give Shep the sign he waited for, and to follow
him up those stairs. But such an action would be
suicidal, and he shook his head, and very unwill-
ingly Shep crept back. Hardly was this over
when Nan turned round. She gave a percei)tible
start when she found Nat at her elbow. "You
might be an Indian, boy. You step so quiet that
I most thought you'd reckoned it weren't good
enough, and made a scoot."

IN THE lion's den. 177

Nat shook his head. " I've come some thirty miles
to find Ratlilee. All I feared Avas that he might be
gone. I can wait all night if lie's busy — now that
yon will see it through for me, mother."

Xan nodded, smiled complacently and opened the
door at the left of the passage. They entered a
small room, the walls ornamented Avith glass cases
full of a variety of bottles containing samples of
every species of spirituous liquor. There was a
table with a pack of cards upon it, a miniature bar,
and half a dozen rocking-chairs and spittoons.
Clearly this was a sanctum where Nan only admitted
privileged guests. A door at the end led into the
saloon proper. This door was half glass, of a kind
that enabled Nan to see all that passed outside
without being observed herself. " You set here,
friend, while I send in the supper. Are you a
patient kind of man? I see it in your face.
That's good — fur Sandy is much occupied, and it
will be late before I can tote him to business.
He's come a journey, too, and when he's tired he
sucks in whiskey enough to drown some men. Tlien
without doubt he'll have contracted to play a game
already, so it may be two hours before he's ready.
I'll tell him at once, and bring you his reply."

178 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

She opened the glass door and a rush of hot,
unpleasant air came into the room, with the sound
of a babel of tongues which died to a mere buzz
when the door closed again.

The moment Nat was alone he looked round him
and noted every detail in the room. Then he stepped
quietly to the door of the passage, Avithdrew a
key that was in the lock, and catching up some bits
of matches and a cigar-end, stuffed them into the
key-hole and jammed them there firmly with the
end of the key. It would be impossible to secure the
door again without a patient picking out of all this
rubbish.

This done, he went to the glass door. The
saloon was a long room, and at the end nearest to
him was a table set for supper for many men,
beyond it were card-tables, and beyond that the bar
itself and a stove with a ring of chairs. Every
available inch of room was occupied by men. Nat
ran his eye quickly over the crowd and calculated
that there were at least fifty. Behind the bar were
two Chinamen serving drinks at a great speed.
Nan, her arms akimbo and a smile upon her face,
was standing between these two men, towering a head
above both, and exchanging chaff and greetings with

IN THE lion's DEX. 179

her customers. Seeing her thus occupied, Xat left
this door and cautiously opened the other. The
passage was empty, the only door open being the
one on the stairs. To this door Xat went with his
quick, soundless tread, drew the key from the lock,
and with some more rubbish he had taken with him
stuffed up the key-hole securely. The whole opera-
tion barely occupied a minute. Then he returned
to Xan's parlour and peered through the glass door
again. She was no longer behind the bar, but nearer
to him. talking to one man a2:)art from the rest —
and Xat's heart gave a fierce leap, as he involtm-
tarily clenched his hands. This man was Sandy
Rathlee.

Every detail in Rathlee's dress, form, and face
Xat marked down. The round, cat-like head, the
light-brown eyes, near together, the nose broad and
flat, with full nostrils, the bushy moustache, thick lips
and heaAw jaw. The tall, powerful figure of the
man was far too large for his head, which looked
like an apple on the top of his broad shoulders.
By night or by day Xat would know this man.
When the conversation was finished Xan led the
way to the parlour, Rathlee following with an ex-
pression of some perplexity. Xat saw this, and

180 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

divined that Ratlilee was cudgelling his brains to
think of a man he had played cards with for six
thousand dollars. The risk of detection now became
very great, but boldness was the only policy now.

" Here's the little man, Sandy," was Nan's in-
troduction. " D'ye remember him ? You ought to.
He seems to remember you."

She laughed, but her eyes were anxious and en-
quiring, and from the scowl on Rathlee's face Nat
judged that the genuineness of his mission was more
than doubted. Rathlee gave an ugly grin. " Never
saw him in my life. You've been well fooled, Nanny
girl, and if I come in anyways at all, it will be to kick
the little sheep-man out. AY hat say ? Six thousand
dollars, indeed ; six thousand dead grasshoj^pers ! I
tell you it's a lie right through."

He gave a fleering laugh, and Nat was blinded for
an instant by the rush of hot blood to his brain.
But the instinct of self-control kept him still and so
quiet outwardly that Nan, looking from one face to
the other, only saw his eyes dilate and a curious
pallor overspread his face. He took a step forward.
" Your memory is short. Though the night was
dark I saw your face. Do you remember Clinter'.;
Ford?"

IN THE lion's den. 181

Ratlilee started and caught his under-lip between
his teeth. " By ," he exclaimed, " it's the Co-
manche I "

'' I had sold my sheep," Xat went on, speaking to
Nan, '' and was journeying West with six thousand
dollars. This man and his friends reckoned to release
my pile, and tried their level best at Clinter's Ford.
But we went through them, and though they followed
on, the sheriff jumped them before we reached Las
Animas. Sandy Rathlee ran away."

Nat said the last words very slowly, and Rathlee
went purple in the face. He saw, however, tliat any
outburst of rage would only make him ridiculous,
and tried to turn it off with a laugh. " He has it
pretty straight. That was a piece of bad luck for
us. Well, sonny, and what's now? Want to play
me? Why, you ought to go to the sheriff yonder
— you can see him at the bar — and tell him to
rope me in as a notorious road agent. Ha, ha ! "

" That may come," Nat answered, his immovable
face in strong contrast to the other's glaring like
a tiger's at bay; "but not in Amenta. I have fol-
lowed you to do what I said a while ago — play a
square game — madam here to hold the stakes."
-And the stakes?"

182 A SOX OF THE PLAINS.

" I'll name them when we sit down to it. Will
you pLay?"

Rathlee looked at the sj)eaker from head to foot
for several seconds without answering. He did not
know that Maizie had been in the coach at Clinter's
Ford, and no direct suspicion of Nat's purpose had
entered in his mind ; but now something in the ex-
pression of the hawk-like face, for all its quietness,
— a glitter in the eyes, an intensity of resolution in
the tightly compressed lips, — gave Rathlee a vague
consciousness of what lay behind this "game." He
laughed, for Rathlee was no coward, with a look in
his sinister eyes that made even Nan shiver. Sud-
denly he thrust out his hand. " We'll play, Co-
manche. You can't make the stakes too high."

The fingers of the men then closed in a grasp
which was not that of friendship, and the smile died
out of Rathlee's face. It was a very little thing,
but he had expected by the strength of his grip to
make his enemy feel his inferiority. He found to his
astonishment that the fingers of the other grasped
his own hand, big as it was, so fiercely that it lay
between them flaccid and powerless as a child's.

CHAPTER XII.

NOT FOESAKEN.

" You see liis game, Xan ? "

"I don't, indeed."

Rathlee laughed unpleasantly. They had left Nat
and Avere talking in Avhispers in tlie dining-room.
'' It's plain as morning light. Some ways the little
Comanche has heard of my bust this morning, and
he's come to take her away, and to choke me, or knife
me, or shoot me, as may he most conyenient. Per-
haps she is his girl. Who knows ? Anyway he's a
sheep-man and she's a sheep-man's daughter. I'll bet
you all I have — I'll bet you the little bird herself —
that his stakes are just her and nothing else in the
world. I've seen that look in a man's eye once
before."

''When was that?"

"Eh? Oh — a little while back. Never you mind
my business, friend. I tell you it don't pay folk to

183

184 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

look at me his way. Comanche Nat will find out
that before he's a day older."

" Why is he named so ? "

" They say he was in Comanche camp, — kidnapped
by some chief when a child. He's been after girls
before. When I first heard of him, he snicked two
from the Arapahoes, and brought 'em safe to Seckers-
burg, Kansas. This will be his last frolic, little
skunk ! But, say, I'm thirsty. I'll get back to the
boys now and put them up to the fun that's coming.
I suppose supper won't be long. Give him a big
one, Nanny, it will be a tidy while before he gits
another."

He gave a meaning chuckle and swaggered away
to the bar. Nan Sheehan stood still thinking, then
walked slowly down the passage to the left of her
own room and, softly opejiing the door, peeped in.

Nat, having made his plans, was lying back in
one of the rocking-chairs with closed eyes. Nan
with a tread as soft as a cat's crept up to him. The
fatigue of the long run and the warm room had over-
powered him for a few moments, and he had fallen
asleep. What was it that stirred Nan Sheehan with
a feeling that she had not felt since girlhood ? She
was a bad woman — corrupt and degraded years and

:^^0T FORSAKEN. 185

years ago ; lier nature, naturally stubborn and rude,
was now harder than that of most of the men she
mixed with, as the nature of a woman who has fallen
must always be. And yet she was a woman still.
As she looked into the sleeper's face. — to her that
of a mere boy — which a few hours hence would be
cold and dead, her heart ached. Twenty years
asro Xan had been a motlier. Her babv lived three
years, then slowly wasted away with malignant fever.
This liad been the grief of her life, and though she
had tried to stifle it since by drink and evil living,
the memory of the child was in her heart as fresh
as ever. Had he lived, she thought, he would have
been just the age of this lad, with the same audacity,
fearlessness, and strength of will.

A shout of lauo-hter came from the bar of the saloon.
Rathlee was telling his friends of the "fim" which
lay in store for them to-night. Xan heard him.
Her face became stern and hard, and she muttered
strong words between her teeth. She was a violent
woman, dangerous to rouse. The soimd woke Xat.
He did not start when he saw the face above him,
but Xan noticed his eye glance swiftly round the
room, as one who felt that he was in danger. She
laid a hand upon his shotdder. -Rest, son. This

186 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

house is mine, not Sandy's." She was about to say
more, when the promised supper was brought in, and
Nat set so vigorously to work upon steak and pota-
toes, beans and sour-krout, bread, butter, cheese, and
coffee, that Nan bided her time and sat and watched
him in silence. Her presence there would have de-
stroyed Nat's appetite if anything could have done
so, for the plan he had laid down Avas to find his way
to Maizie while his hostess was engaged elsewhere.
It was not difficult to detect interest and approval in
Nan's face. Whatever the cause, she seemed disposed
to be friendly. But what might not lie behind ? The
one comfort to Nat was that he felt sure Maizie was
in the house and unhurt, and that Mistress Sheehan
had not the least suspicion of his purpose.

A few minutes sufficed to enable Nat to refresh
himself sufficiently. Nan cleared away the dishes
herself, and as the door closed behind her, Nat
hoped the moment for action had come. But slie
returned again almost immediately, uidocked a case
containing bottles and placed one full of whiskey on
the table. There was a look of excitement on her
face. Signing to Nat to help himself, she filled a
tumbler half full of the spirit, and drank it at a
breath.

XOT FORSAKEN. 187

*' Drink, son, — come! Pshaw, what a thimbleful.
A man who runs thirty miles to meet a lion in his den
and stirs him up when he gets there as you stirred
Sandy, must keep himself wtll nourished." She
paused to drink again. '• What interests me," she
went on slowly. •• are the stakes you play Sandy for
to-night. I guess you might hand them over now.
The boys are so eager that perhaps they won't be
long. Where are those stakes, my son?"

She smiled and shook her fino-er at him. Xat felt
that the end was coming. '"In the room above us,''
he answered coolly.

Xan gave a slight start. " How did you guess she
was there ? "

"Isn't it so?"

"Yes."

They looked at one another intently, and the room
was as still as death. Xat knew his life was not
worth a minute's purchase. From the dining-table
came the clatter of knives and forks, the Rathlee
gang were not ten yards away, but there vras no
sound in Xan's parlour except the breathing of those
two trving^ to read one another's thouo-hts.

I/O o

The woman spoke first. " HaA'C you come all this
way for her?"'

188 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

"Yes."

" And when you have found her — "

"Take her home."

"But you are corralled."

'' I know."

" If I tell the boys you'll be blown to little bits in
one half -minute . ' '

" You will not tell the boys." He changed his
position slightly, and Nan saw that he held cocked a
revolver.

She folded her arms and smiled.

"How will that serve ye? You shoot straight, I
warrant, but they will be upon you just as quick.
You cannot frighten me if that's your notion. I
was never scared in all my life."

Nat lowered the muzzle of his pistol. " Will you
help me, then ? "

The appeal Avas made quite simply. Nan did not
feel that the suspicion of a threat lay behind it. She
smiled again. " And be blown to bits myself ? See —
I'll tell you something. The boys know. Sandy
guessed it from your looks. You are in a tight place,
Comanche Nat. I've seen many on the spikes in my
time, but none worse fixed than you. How do you
feel, lad? Tell us that."

NOT FOESAKEX. 189

She was still smiling, and Xat thought she was
mocking his despair. Had he been less desperate he
could have killed her for her cruelty, hut nothing
affected him no^Y. For a little while he sat still,
listening. Then he rose and riuietlv moA'ed hack-
wards towards the door. The reA'olver was still in
his hand, and Xan, Avatching him keenly, knew that if
she made a movement towards the bar, or raised her
voice, she would pay for it Avitli her life. Tlie situa-
tion affected her curiously. The strange notion that
her son, had he lived, Avottld have been in this lad's
place, overcame her entirely now. A dark flush OA'er-
spread her face and she held out her hands Avith a
gesture of entreaty. '' Stop it, sonny. Stop it. I say,
rir/7it there. I were only fooling. I SAvear now —
and God Almighty knoAvs I never broke my oath —
that I Avill stand with you to the death. Aye. agin
Sandy Rathlee, though he has been my friend, and
agin all he can bring to help him. though they was
devils instead of men. If ye don't believe me. take
your knife and drive it through. 'Twill make no
sound, and give you the chance you wish to get her
clean away, and dead folk tell no tales. Do what you
p>lease. I will stand 'tAveen yoti and those who'll mur-
kier ye — if I Avring Sandy's neck Avith my own hands."

190 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

She had crossed the room to hmi noAv, and stood
with her hands behind her back, breathing heavily.
Nat gave her one quick glance, and then thrust his
pistol into its sheath. " I take your words as they
are spoken, mother. Shall we go upstairs ? "

A smile, like a rift of sunlight between dark clouds,
lit up the woman's heavy face. She grasped his hand
with one of hers and laid the other on his shoulder.
" I'll take you to her quick as we kin step. It will
make me young myself to see you two. Let me
say this while I have the chance. She is worthy of
you, lad. She never cried nor winced one little bit,
— slip of a thing as she is, — but kept quiet and
stiff -like in the face, and thanked me when I brought
her up some coffee, as if she were in an hotel. Now
come ; there ain't no time to waste."

With a swift tread, as quiet as Nat's own, Nan
led the way through the hall, and up the stairs.
Nat's heart began to beat so fast now that he lost
his breath. If any doubt had existed in his mind
as to Mistress Sheehan's good faith, it was dispelled
by the sight of Shep, who, though restrained by his
intelligence from barking, asserted liimself by bound-
ing up the stairs in front of them, his ears erect
and his tail wagging violently. At the door of the

NOT FORSAKEN. 191

first landing he paused and wldned. Nan stopped
at the stair head. '' He's took you there, not me.
Tell the boys so if they ask questions. I'll go no
further now. In a few minutes I'll call for you and
let ye out. Till then all's safe."

She turned back down the stairs, and Xat was
left in the passage with a key in his hand. It was
growing dark, and when he opened the door he
was only just able to distinguish the outline of a
girl's figure by the light of a small window in the
roof, — the room was a mere attic, — and could not
see her face at all.

For an instant he stood still without speaking a
word. The next, Maizie had recognised him, and
sprang, with a cry he never forgot, into liis arms.

''Nat! Oh, thank God — thank God I I prayed
for you, and it has brought you. I feel so safe
I could laugh at all I have been through to-day,
if it were not so horrdjle that I wonder I don't
go mad. But I will not think of it now. How
good of you to have come. Where have you been
all this time ? We have so missed 3'ou. Hush !
Hush I I heard his voice. I am sure I did. I mean
that man's. Or was it that horrible woman ? No, I
was mistaken. It was only fancy. Don't laugh if

192 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

I begin to cry ; you don't know what terror I have
been in. The Indians were nothing to these men.
If you had not come I must have gone mad. What
a coward you will think me ; and once you said I
was brave. But I cannot help it. It has been too
hard to bear all alone. If I had known you were
coming I would have laughed at them all."

Maizie tried to laugh now, but her voice was choked
with sobs, which could be held back no longer, and
burying her face in Nat's breast, she cried like a
little child.

As for Nat, he was as much overcome as Maizie
herself, though his agitation took a different form.
The distress of mind and misery and apprehension
she must have endured for her firm nerves and brave
spirit to be brought so low, made him positively sick
with rage. He could think of no words of comfort,
though he racked his brain to say something. All
he could do was to stroke her hair, usually so smooth
and neat, and now flowing loose and dishevelled over
her shoulders, and to kiss her on the forehead as
gently as he might have kissed a sister.

But this was enough ; and very soon the slender
frame ceased to tremble, the sobs became less and
less violent, and at last Maizie raised her head, dis-

NOT FORSAKEN. 193

engaged herself from liis arms, and pnslied back her
hair with both hands. '' I am very sorry to be so
foolish," she said, in her natural voice — a little
tremulous still. '• How good you are, Xat, to be so
patient with me. It is over, quite over. Xow tell
me liow you came in this wonderful way just when
I needed you most."

Nat told his story, and then slowly and cautiously
described their present position. They were sitting
on the bed side by side, for there were no chairs in
the room, and he took her hand. "You say you
feel safe. But I am alone. Rathlee has all this
town at his back, and our only chance is to creep
away toward Chico Springs before he leaves his
supper. Nan Sheehan is our friend. I think. But
she cannot hold them in, and when they find you
are gone they will hunt for us like blood-hounds.
At present we are to keep quiet till Nan brings
word that the way is clear. A rescue party may
come from Chico Springs, but the men cannot be
collected all at once, and they have forty miles to
ride. We must not expect them before midnight."

The room was quite dark now, and Maizie could
not find the right words to express what she wanted
to say ; she could only press his hand with both of

194 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

hers. The touch wakened into sudden life a longing
in Nat's heart which had been there for many weeks.
In a few minutes they would start upon their peril-
ous journey ; before they started he must know.
^'Maizie — " It was now his turn to stop and blush
and tremble in the darkness ; it seemed almost a
mockery to speak.

"Yes, Nat."

The words came quite quietly, though his hand held
hers with intense pressure. Nat's heart sank. But
he would know all, and as the feeling of hopelessness
grew apace, his nervousness became less. ''I want
you to tell me one thing. There is little in it — for
you; but it is life and more to me. I — " again
he paused, struggling with his words, and uttering
them one at a time in sharp jerks like revolver shots.
Maizie, quite sure that she knew what he meant,
but with a queer thrill at her heart for which she
could not account, tried to help him out.

" Yes, dear Nat, I have seen it, and I hope all
may go well. You know that you can rely upon
nie — to do anything that will make you happy. I
have never known any man before as I have known
you — and there is no one I Avould so dearly love
as my brother — no one in the world."

NOT FORSAKEN. 195

She spoke earnestly, but, at the last, verv tremu-
lously. To her surprise, the hands that held hers
so tightly suddenly relaxed their pressure, and became
cold and nerveless. She heard him sigh the short,
sharp sigh of one who puts away by a great effort
some thouQfht of which his mind had been full. A
sudden feeling of dismayed perplexity overwhelmed
Maizie. She had made some fearful blunder. It
was not Bel, after all, whom he cared for. Supposing
— but at this moment all conjecture came to a full
stop, for Shep, who, after claiming a fidl share of
Maizie's attention, had curled himself up at the door
of the room, now gave a low growl, and rose bristling
all over. There were steps on the stairs.

Maizie instinctively crept closer to Xat. "It is
Nan," he said in his natural tone, but without taking
Maizie's hand again. *• Shep, come to heel."

A light flickered in the passage, and Mistress Shee-
han made her appearance, with a lamp in her hand.
" Sorry to intrude, young people," she said, noting
with a grim smile that Maizie trembled at her voice,
and grasped Xat's arm with both hands. "But if
you are goin', you'd better git. I have put all the
boys outside to the bar and dining-room, and they
are well set down to the whiskey. There's just time

196 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

for you to slip throngli the passage, and scoot. Which
way are you goin' to strike, Comanche boy — Chico
Springs ? We — el, then I knows which way to direct
Sandy. Quick, now, and if you hear a commotion
after a bit, don't be thinking I have gone back on
you. I must give the alarm at the right moment,
and then start them wrong. D'you sabe ? Well,
then come."

Without further words they stole softly down tlie
stairs. Nan first with the light, Maizie and Nat
following, Shep covering the rear. As they passed
through the passage at the foot of the stairs, they
heard the laughter and loud talking of the men in
the saloon, and INIaizie turned so white that Nat
feared she was about to faint, but she looked up
into his face and smiled, and walked bravely on
through the kitchen where a Chinaman was washing
dishes. He took no notice of them, and now they
reached the door where Nat had entered first of
all. Nan opened it, and signed to Maizie to pass
out. Nat she touched on the shoulder, and as he
looked into her face he saw that her eyes were full
of tears. ''You see, I done it, boy," she whispered
hoarsely, "though it may be my death. But that
is naught. I'd do it again twenty times, though they

KOT FORSAKEN. 197

killed me every time. AVhat I want to say is, should
they corral you spite of all, tell them to bring you
back to Nan's and kill you tliere. Til be ready for
that, and maybe we'll contrive a way to fool them
even then."

She gave him a pat on the slioulder, and before
he could answer pushed him into tlie street and shut
the door in his face. Xat drew Maizie's arm within
his own, and looked warily about liim. The first
part of the work he had set out to do this morning
was done, but in a strange toAvn, with nothing but
their own feet to trust to, and the nearest point of
safety forty miles away, there was a great deal left
to do.

CHAPTER XIII.

WAR TO THE KNIFE.

Amenta was brisk and busy. Every one but the
storekeepers was lounging, chatting, and smoking on
and off the sidewalks. Nat and Maizie found them-
selves in the midst of a crowd of idlers, many of whom
began at once to take a lively interest in their move-
ments. There was a rising moon, the sky was cloud-
less, and though the flaring lamps of the stores threw
dark shadows around their narrow arcs of light, a
more unfortunate time could hardly have been chosen
for the object Nat had in view. Worst of all, he could
tell by the convulsive twitch Alaizie gave at his arm
when two men hailed her with some rude banter in
passing, that her nerves had not recovered from the
shock her recent danger had given them, and, yet,
for the ordeal she had to pass through now, coolness
was vitally necessary.

Maizie hoped that Nat would choose some dark

198

WAR TO THE KNIFE. 199

path along wliicli they coiikl slip unperceived. But
he knew that to avoid light and the public Avay, in
spite of its dangers, would he fatal. His quick eye
noticed that the instant Xan's door closed upon them
more than one man stopped to look at Maizie. Prob-
ably Ilathlee had carried her openly through the
town. If so, the only chance of preventing a hue and
cry being raised was to saunter down the street among
the rest, and not to attempt escape into the darkness
until the limit of the light was reached. Xat, there-
fore, with a whispered word of encouragement, boldly
passed, at a deliberate pace, those who turned to look
at them, and, with an air of unconcern that his Indian
training had thoroughly taught him Iioav to assume,
walked on, taking the centre of the road where the
crowd was thinnest, but stopping at intervals as if
to examine the goods displayed in some of the win-
dows of the stores. So warily, and at so leisurely a
pace Avas he obliged to take his way, that it Avas half
an hour before the busy part of Amenta had been
passed. It Avas one of the Avorst half-hours Maizie
ever endured. TavIcc, men swaggering by in jingling
spurs, broad-brimmed sombreros, and Indian shirts
gaudily embroidered Avith beads and fringes, Avould
have jostled her rudely, but for Xat's quickness in

200 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

perceiving their intention. As a result they ran
against him instead, and one had his toes badly
pounded, and the other received the point of an elbow
in his ribs, and nearly lost his balance altogether.
Both used strong language, and turned to pick a
quarrel ; but Nat had slipped to one side and was
standing so still, and looked so innocent, that they
half believed it must have been some one else,
and passed on grumbling. Once a man, very drunk,
went so far as to lay a hand on ]\Iaizie's shoulder.
She gave a little cry and hid her face in Nat's coat,
thinking all was over. Nat caught the man by the
neck and with a wrench and a twist that sent him reel-
ing back upon a friend also drunk, who first cursed
him savagely, and then seeing what had happened
struck as savagely at Maizie with a heavy wagon-
whip. Nat drew her out of reach of the blow, and
spoke to Shep. The next instant the owner of the
whip was yelling like a maniac and dancing with pain,
having received a bite in the upper part of his heel
that would have lamed him for life but for the heavy
boots he wore. It was a critical moment. A crowd
instantly gathered round. If tliey sympathised with
the enemy, it would go hard with Nat. But they
did not. Even in Amenta a blow aimed at an unof-

WAR TO THE KNIFE. 201

fending woman ^Yas considered bad taste. And amid
cries of " Well sarved," — '' Bully for the dog," —
" Bite him again, waggo," — the man Avas hustled away
and Xat and Maizie passed on unmolested.

The end of the main street was noAv at hand, and
after a little diplomatic loitering at the last of the
stores, they slipped into the comparative darkness
beyond, and had nothing now to fear but systematic
pursuit from Rathlee. There was no danger of Nat
losing his way. He could guide himself by the stars
as easily as by the sun, and he knew the direction of
Chico Springs.

Maizie began to recover her spirits. The cool,
refreshing air and the freedom from interference
soothed and quieted her fears. She no longer expected
at every moment to hear the shouts of the Rathlee
gang. Away from the confined space of her prison
and alone with Nat, she regained her steadiness of
nerve, and replied in the old tranquil tone when asked
if she wanted to rest. '' I feel so strong that I
believe I could Avalk to Chico Springs. Everything
that has happened since this morning seems like a
dream — a horrible nightmare, out of Avhich you have
wakened me, Nat. I feel Avonderfully brave with
you."

202 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

She smiled into his face in the moonlight, a smile
which ought to have made him the happiest of men.
But Nat saw nothing. This lull in the storm and
stress of the day depressed his spirits as much as it
raised Maizie's. It gave him time to remember that
the question he had been tearing his heart out to
ask all these weeks since the parting at Chico
Springs was answered ; the dumb, unacknowledged
hope which had prevented him from leaving New
Mexico until he had seen her again was extin-
guished. An hour ago his heart would have leaped
with happiness to hear her say this. Now — it only
ached.

Nat was not naturally obtuse, but he was very
ignorant. That Maizie, unknown to herself, could
by any possibility care for him, wdiile imagining
that he loved Bel, never occurred to his simple
mind and never would. Proud, diffident, and very
reserved, nothing but the imminent danger of losing
his life in the coming struggle with Rathlee would
have brought Nat to the point of declaring his love,
without encouragement which he Avould never have
received from Maizie — and now — he had done with
it forever. She was as dear to him as before, for
his love had no tinge of selfishness about it; but

WAR TO THE KNIFE. 203

the light of his life had gone out, and nothing that
befell him mattered — that was all.

Maizie received no answer and wondered at the
grimness of Xat's face. But an explanation which
satisfied her was not long in coming. They had
been walking briskly since leaving the light behind.
Now Xat stopped, and. dropping on one knee,
listened intently. •• We must shelter somewhere,"
he said in a quiet tone ; '• they are on the trail.
Let us see what can be made of this shanty."

He took her hand, and laid it within his arm
with a caressing reassuring pressure that was very
comforting. In the pleasiu^e of this, she almost
forgot to think of Sandy Rathlee.

A few paces ahead there lay what liad once been an
adobe hut such as Mexicans build. It was a poor,
tumble-down j)lace, now roofless, Avitli two square gaps
where windows used to be. and nothinsr but an outer
wall standing seven feet high, and one Avithin half
destroyed. But the walls were as solid as if built of
cast iron, and a desperate man, well armed, would l)e
an mipleasant adversary to dislodge from the inner
room. Here Xat placed Maizie, first lighting a match
and looking for possible snakes. Then, leaAung Sliep
on guard beside her, he stole outside to listen.

204 . A SON OF THE PLAINS.

The gang was on the way. He could hear the
quick, irregular tramp of feet, now and then pausing^
as if they were enquiring of people in the street,
but moment by moment growing more distinct. He
listened for any sound from Chico Springs, but
there Avas none, nor could there be for hours yet.
He returned to Maizie.

"They are coming?" she asked.

''Yes."

'' Are they following our track ? "

" No."

" They may pass us then ? "

" They may."

There was an ominous doubt in the way Nat
said this, and Maizie watched his preparations with
slowly sinking heart. First Nat spoke to Shep,
caressing his ears. " Keep quiet, old dog, only fly
if they lay a hand on her — guard her, guard."
And Shep, understanding well, nestled up by Maizie
and licked her hand.

Then his revolver was placed on the low partition
wall, cocked. His knife he took in his left hand,
thoughtfully presenting the blade to the moonlight,
and watching it glitter there. Then he placed
Maizie in the innermost recess and crouched beside

^AR TO THE KNIFE. 205

her. They were hokliug one another's hands now,
for the tramp of the pursuers was drawing very
near. Both thought of the same thing at the same
moment, and Maizie whispered. " Your pistol is
in a pocket of my dress — I remembered what you
said." He pressed her fingers, then swiftly turned
and laid his hand upon the wall. Though the
rustle of feet on the grass had l)een growing more
distinct no voices had been heard, 1jut now, only a
fcAv yards away, ]\Iaizie heard a hoarse whisper which
brought her heart to her mouth.

'* Stop, Sandy, — hold, I say. Who'll bet they
ain't hidin' in the Sanchez shanty ? The likeliest
kind of place. "What ? "

" You be ,"' retorted another voice, Rathlee's.

" They have gone a mile past this."

''Anyway, lets go through it first."

" You may [with a deeper curse than before], I
will not. The blasted place gives me the shivers.
Come away ; we only waste time talking. Leave
two of the boys. Here, Ike and Mick, stay here
while we prospect further on. We'll call for you
on the way back, no fear."

There was a sound as of grumbling, and then the
tramp of feet died away, and Maizie breathed again.

206 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

Something touched her lips — Nat's finger, and she
knew that the hut was watched, and the faintest
whisper or movement might be fataL After a time
the men outside grew tired of keeping quiet, and
began to talk.

'' If this ain't foolishness," said one in a peevish
tone, " call me a Chinaman. What do Sandy mean ?
If he's uncertain whether the cuss is there, why don't
he strike a light and find out ? Where is the sense
of leaving us laying round ? Nan's whiskey must
have churned his brain — such as he ever had. If
I were bossing the outfit, I'd see daylight through
every bit of cover as I went along. What say ? "

" Say," replied a deeper voice, dry and sarcastic,
" that there never was a man so smartly on the spot
as Ike O'Rourke thinks himself to be. There's only
one drawback, he never does anything. If you feel
mean, pard, go in yourself. We'll wait patient as
monuments till you come out again. For me, I'd
rather stay here ; I hev heard too much of Comanche
Nat to chance my carcase near him in the dark. As
for Sandy, every child in Amenta knows why he'll
hold back from Sanchez shanty if he can. You never
heard it ? See then. Sanchez Avas a greaser with a
few colts, and was the best rider I ever saw Avith a

WAK TO THE KNIFE. 207

yellow face. Sandy was rather partial to liim for a
while ; but they quarrelled at Xan's one night, and
Sandy shot him. Sanchez left a widder and a baby,
and what does Rathlee do but step out about midnight
after taking entry drinks, and come down here to
tell this widder what he'd done. GoUs, Ike boy,
never did a man make a worse mistake. She were
waitin' for him, and wild cats were not in it when she
saw his wicked face. He thought she would be
weepin' and might be comforted. She were heating
a pan of scalding grease, and that was what he got
full in the mouth. Wonder it didn't kill him, but she
aimed too low, and he still had his sight and his
knife and his great strength, and the pain made him
mad. Soon afterwards folk saw the hut afire, but
none saw Sandy, nor knew where he Avent ; and the
widder and the baby, they were never seen again.
That's why he's held clear of the place to-night, and
will do, unless he's dead sure the girl's inside. They
say he hears that baby crying still, when he's been
drinking over much. He's done many things, but
I guess he never did a worse night's work than
that. Yet, after all, it ain't your funeral, Ikey boy.
Now, come, light your match like a man, and tell
us what you see inside. I'll stand a drink too if

208 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

you air in a fit condition, afterward, to take it
down."

The speaker ended his offer with a chuckle. It
was received with an oath.

" I'd sooner be toasted by Apaches than put a foot
in the cursed phice, if that's the truth. Sandy must
wrastle with liis own spooks ; nary a one will I face
for him. I most wish I'd let him go alone ; durned
if I ain't got the creeps, and hear the baby whine
myself. Killing meyi is right and business-like, Ijut
babies — ugh, it makes me sick — What say your-
self ? "

"That's just so, Ike, and you'll find the rest of the
boys agree. If the girl is in here, as I believe, now,
she must be, Sandy will have to run his funeral alone
until he gits her out. Here he comes, cursin' like
blue smoke."

Sandy Rathlee was in an evil mood. With the
consideration for his feelings characteristic of their
race, the desperadoes who surrounded him had not
failed to make pointed allusions to the episode at
Sanchez shanty ever since they left it behind, and as
no trace of the fuo^itives could be found ahead, Ratli-
lee was at last obliged to declare that he would search
the place without delay, if it were only to vindicate

WAR TO THE KNIFE. 209

his courage. He knew well tliat let a doul)t be cast
upon his nerve, and his leadership and place among
his gang was lost.

" Hand round a candle, boys," he said, pausing in
the doorway of the hut. But no one had a candle.
They had not even a match among them which they
could lend Sandy Rathlee.

"Then we must fire through the place. Two of
you climb the Avails to north and east, and let fly
into the centre. Ike, fire through the windows here.
The rest stand, and be ready, if he makes a bolt."

There was a pause. No one stirred. Rathlee lost
his temper, and poured forth curses freely right and
left, and said he would go alone.

Some one laughed, and a piping voice remarked
cheerfull}^ : " You are talking sense now. Boss.
That's miles better than to burn powder in the
house, and p'raps shoot the girl by mistake. There's
been enough of that done here already. Go in
yourself ; we'll take care nobody but you comes
out."

A deep silence followed these words, and all the
men stood expectant, looking at Bathlee. When he
saw that there was no Avay out of it, he tossed his
head and laughed contemptuously.

210 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

"You are a brave crowd. Upon my word, if I had
no more spunk than you I'd hang myself. I'll go
in. Keep clear of the doorway, or you might get
hurt."

He turned from them, but as he reached the door
he paused and started back ; for a voice within said
quietly : " Another step and you are a dead man.
Boys, will you let me have fair play ? "

If Nat had spoken with the excited emphasis of
a man in desperate straits, his appeal would have
been laughed at. As it was, the quietness of his tone
and the sudden withdraAval of Rathlee from his
perilous position, made a great and instantaneous
impression on the men, and the hasty order of their
leader, "Pile in every man after me, and stop his
gabble now," came too late. Not a man moved,
while Rathlee himself, feeling it was certain death
to venture in alone, held back, and waited to hear
his enemy speak again.

" My meaning, friends," Nat went on more quietly
than before, " is this. Sandy Rathlee and I were to
have had a game to-night. I found he was going to
crowd me out if he won, so I left town, and took
the stakes away. You have corralled me. I don't
deny it ; but I won't give her up while I can fight.

WAR TO THE KNIFE. 211

Yoli are all straight men. Let me play Sandy
Rathlee no^v, but with knives, not cards, and let the
one who lives carry off the prize. If you say yes
to this, well fight it out before you all."

Xat paused and waited for the answer. It was a
touch and go. While the calm audacity of the pro-
posal pleased the fancy of the men, they had suffi-
cient deference towards Sandy to hesitate before
forcing him to accept terms for one who lay virtually
in liis power. The reply came from Rathlee him-
self. "If that suits the boys, it suits me."

A shout of approval greeted these words, and amid
the cries of " Well spoke, Sandy," — " Make a ring
for them right here," — Xat, stopping to kiss Maizie's
hand, stepped out into the moonlight, leant quietly
against the wall of the hut, and waited.

CHAPTER XIY.

DEATH-GRIPS.

The moon was riding high now, the stars were at
their brightest. Nothing was wanting to favour the
combatants in their struggle, and to heighten the
enjoyment of the onlookers. There was some disap-
pointment expressed by the inexperienced when they
saw how slightly built and puny the sheep-man looked
beside the burly Rathlee, but the older men smiled
at one another. The weakest man, they knew well,
is formidable when he is lighting for his life. No
one doubted that Rathlee would win.

The ground was chosen, the ring formed. The
men took off their coats and rolled up their sleeves,
and faced one another. So intent Avas the crowd now
upon the coming fight, that Maizie, unable to remain
in the hut, stole up unperceived, and with Shej) beside
her, showing every tooth in his head, looked on at
what followed.

212

DEATH-GRIPS. 213

Slowly the men circled round one another, drawing
close by imperceptible degrees, their eyes fixed with
the intensity of tigers — nearer — nearer — nearer,
— until one should spring.

It was the culminating point of Nat's life. Again
and again since he liad known ^Maizie he had bitterly
regretted the Indian training which had often kept
him silent when he would have spoken, and made
him appear hard and cold wlien his heart was full
of sympathy. But now he thanked God for those
long, miserable years. liathlee had the advantage
of superior strength, reach, and height, but Nat
had somethinsr more valuable than all these.

Now ! With a swift lunge of body, arm, and hand,
Rathlee sprang forward, his head bent, his left arm
held low, the elbow outwards to guard any sud-
den thrust ; his knife in his right hand, so turned
that, could he get near enough, with one powerful
side stroke he would drive it between Nat's ribs, just
below the heart. A savage yell rose from the on-
lookers. Nothing but nimbleness, combined with
extreme quickness of eye and judgment, could save
Nat ; but as Rathlee charged, his enemy stepped back-
wards, and shifting rapidly to the right, and avoiding
the blow, stepped in almost at the same moment.

214 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

inflicting a heavy thrust in Rathlee's arm, which
dropped useless to his side. The shouts of the crowd
died away; the most contident now felt nervous.
On Ratld.ee himself the repulse acted like strong wine.
Making his helpless arm a shield, he bounded at Nat
like a wounded lion. There was no avoidance pos-
sible of this attack; Nat met it squarely, and Rath-
lee's knife sank deep into his shoulder. They closed,
and Nat struck two blows in return, so swiftly
that no one saw where they went. Rathlee reeled
and staggered like a drunken man, struck madly
at the air, threw up his arms, and fell heavily back-
wards. The fight was done.

A long, whispering breath of surprise passed
through the crowd of men. The end Avas so
unexpected and came in so sudden a way, that
for a moment they stood agape at what they saw.
Then they surged forward to examine the prostrate
man.

Nat stood aside, and, seeing Maizie, went quickly
to her.

She clutched his arm. " Are you hurt ? "

" A little ; but that is nothing. You should not
have left the hut."

" What will happen to us now ? "

DEATH-GRIPS. 215

''If they keep their word, we are free to go."

But this did not seem likely. With the proposal
of a fight for their diversion before them, the gang
could afford to be merciful and even generous, but
now the tables had turned. Kat had barely time
to get his revolver from the hut, when he found
himself surrounded by lowering, threatening faces,
and heard whispers that proved his position to be as
precarious as ever. He had only one more card to
play.

''Friends," he said, looking slowly round, Maizie
clincfino- to his arm, " our contract said that the man
who kept his feet should go. I could claim that right
now, but I will not. Come back and drink with me
at Xan's ; and if there is any man who says the fight
was not fought fair, you can judge what best to do
with me."

The men looked at each other askance, like bulls
who would like to charge but wait for each other to
begin. At length the man Avith the piping voice
spoke out : '' I reckon the offer is fair. Things will
look clearer presently. I'll go with you, Comanche
Nat, for one."

This was enough; the rest agreed willingly, and,
keeping Xat well in the centre, trudged back to

216 A SOX OF THE PLAINS.

town. Behind tliem, still and lifeless, lay all that
remained of Sandy Rathlee.

The townsfolk of Amenta marvelled as they saw the
returning gang ; and when it was whispered abroad
that the sheep-man had slain the desperado in open
fight, so many followed to Nan's that there was
hardly standing-room at the bar. The Chinamen
were still there, serving drinks. Nan was also there,
actively at work. When she saw Nat and his follow-
ing, and noted the absence of Rathlee, she took in
the situation at a glance.

" Back soon, boys ! You've caught more than you
sought for ? Sandy gone ? Is that so ? Well, give
your orders sharp. I close early to-night. You stand,
do ye, sonny? That seems onnatural for a wounded
man. Hi there, boys, make Avay, and let that girl
come round to me. Crowds of your nature ain't
no place for her."

Nan Slieehan's word was law in her own house, —
at least up to a certain point, and in a twinkling she
had whisked ]Maizie out of the press, and placed her
in a chair behind the bar. That was something
gained, and Nan smiled to herself as she saw the
look of relief in Nat's face. But Nan s chief anxiety
was Nat himself. Though composedly handing drinks

DEATH-GRIPS. 217

alongf the counter to the men with his rio-ht hand,
he ne^'er moved his left, and Nan felt sure by the pale-
ness of his face that he was severely Avounded and
probal)ly losing 1)lood. Yet she dared not make any
sign of sympathy toward him. She knew, none
better, the temper of the men. For the moment Nat's
free-handedness maintained a party in his favour
strong enough to repress the inclination of others to
revenge Rathlee's death ; Imt as the liquor mounted
to the brains of his admirers there was only too much
danofer that thev would become as violent as the rest.
When Xan became convinced of this she felt that
desperate measures must be taken. Through Rath-
lee's death matters had become far more critical than
she had expected when she told Xat to return to her,
and while she admired the courage and address
which had enabled him to dispose of his enemy,
and hold in check the very men who had gone
forth to Jielp in his destruction, she saw clearly
that not only was his life in innninent danger, but
that her influence could avail nothing, and that to
keep her Avord witli liim Avas only to share his fate.
For an instant she hesitated. She Avas prosperous in
Avorldly goods, and life AA'as SAveet. Her champion-
ship of this boy AA'as sheer madness. She had but

218 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

to retire to her 2^1'ivate room, give orders to her men
to close the saloon Avlien all was over, and there
would be no more trouble for her. She looked at
the dark, threatening faces of the men, and bit her
lip in indecision. Then she met Nat's eyes, full of
unspoken appeal. Her face became firm and hard.
She whispered to the Chinamen, and two shot-guns,
loaded with slugs, were taken from a recess beneath
the counter and placed upon a chair. These weapons
Nan carelessly laid on the counter as if they had been
beer-jugs. "Another drink, son — no? Then I've
done business for to-night." She raised her voice so
that it should be heard by all. "Chang, git to the
door, and open it for the folk. Boys, I'm closing.
No more drinks till to-morrow morning. I will wish
you all good-night. Comanche Nat, I want you here."
While speaking Nan slid back the panel by which
she had admitted Maizie ; Nat stepped through it,
before the men on either side were aware of his
intention, and drew the bolt behind him. He was
now separated from the crowd by the counter
flanked with shelves piled with cigar-boxes, syphons,
bottles of wine, and all the paraphernalia of an Ameri-
can saloon. The gang was balked of its prey again.
But it was only for the moment. A fierce cry of

DEATH-GRIPS. 219

remonstrance came from many lips and no one moved
toward the door.

"See here, Xan," said one, — a man with a deep
scar across his face, the mark of Jeff Collingwood's
Avliip at Clinter's Ford, — '' this will not do. You
may shut your old saloon, but you don't interfere
witli business. We'll trouble you to let that man
come back and liis o^irl with him. She belono-s
to US anyway, and we ain't done with him, not by
any means."

He raised his voice at the end, and was answered
by an ominous growl of assent from those around
him.

Nan Sheehan laughed mockingly. "Ain't you,
Mick? Then put this in your pipe. Comanche Xat
and all that belongs to him are under my protection.
He stays here until he wants to go, and any one wdio
disagrees will have to go through me."

She spoke slowly, looking round from face to face,
and having spoken laid hands upon her gun.

A visible wave of astonishment passed through the
crowd, and there was a lull ; but only for an instant.
Then the growl of anger and menace rose again, and
more than one voice shouted, "Take her at her
word I " — while right and left revolvers sprang out

220 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

of slieatli, and Nat, whose eyes were everywhere, saw
a man take deliberate aim at Nan. A double report
rang out, the man's arm was broken below the elbow
and his shot flew wide. Nan looked round with a smile.

"You saved me, lad."

She had not time to say more before a dozen shots
rattled round the bar, and there Avas a mighty crash
of broken glass ; but the aim had been too hasty,
and no one was hurt.

Nan's blood was up at last. "Cowards," she
shrieked, " take that ! " — and bringing her shot-gun
to her shoulder, fired both barrels at the men near-
est at hand. A frightful yell of pain, and then a
storm of bullets in reply. The room filled with
smoke. Nat, crouching behind a whiskey barrel, saw
that Nan was struck. She had made no attempt to
protect herself, and now reeled heavily against him.
Yet, blind and bleeding as she was, she caught up
the second gun, and fired with such fearful effect
into the men now leaping upon the comiter Avith
their knives, that for the moment it was swept clear
and no one dared to take the place of those who
fell.

And now a new sound was in the air. The crash
of window glass, the roar of strange voices in the

DEATH-GRIPS. 221

street outside, and from the door and from the win-
dows came a sudden bhize of rifle shots. The Rath-
lee gang turned, thunderstruck, to find themselves
surrounded. For a moment or two they fought stub-
bornly, then, as the enemy burst into the saloon, fled
right and left, and held up hands for quarter.

'^ Hold, boys," said a stern voice, — it was Ezekiel
INlixer's, — " give them one chance. They have two
prisoners — are these still alive ? "

The firing ceased. The smoke cleared off, and the
men held their breath. Tlien from the ruined counter
came two figures, followed by a dog, and such a
shout of joy Avent up as never had been heard in
Nan's saloon before. Some one ran forward with
outstretched arms.

"My little gell — unhurt? Thank God I " And
from far and near many a voice echoed these words,
— " Thank God I "

CHAPTER XV.

JVnXER S MEN.

Nan Sheehan was not dead, nor Avas she likely
to die, if the bleeding from a deep wound in her right
side could be stopped in time. Moreover, she Avas so
far conscious that when they lifted her from where
she had fallen she spoke out cheerily, though in a
faint voice.

" You've timed it, boys. Well done ! Is that
sonny on his feet ? Then I don't care — What ?
a doctor ? You'll find one, if he's alive, in this sa-
loon — Ned Washington. But sonny first — he Avere
Avounded long ago."

Luckily enough. Doctor Ned Washington was not
only still in this Avorld, though he had had a nar-
row escape, but proved equal to the occasion. As
great a scamp as could be found in the county, or
even in Amenta itself, he Avas a clcA^er practitioner,

and under the delicate circumstances under which

222

mixer's men. 223

he was placed, became anxious to do his best for
his patients. By his orders Nan was carried to the
private bar Avhere Xat had eaten his supper, and in
a very few minutes her wounds were properly band-
aged; Nat's shoulder was bound up, and the doctor
pronounced them both to be doing well.

It was more difficult to persuade him to dress the
wounds of the crippled members of the Rathlee
gang, but a stern warning from INIixer as to his own
fate if one Avounded man Avas found neglected next
morning, conquered his disinclination to Avork for
nothino', and he did his duty aa'cII.

MeauAA-hile, outside the saloon, Amenta was in a
state of excitement and confusion impossible to de-
scribe. Who and AA'hat Avere these men aa'Iio had
taken the saloon by storm and crushed the Rathlee
gang ? From mouth to mouth the news Avas AA'his-
pered that they came not only to saA'e the sheep-
man's daughter, but to take the toAA'u.

The ncAA's Avas true. For tAVO years the citizens of
Amenta had been alloAved to cheat, oppress, and
plunder all those who had no friends, and had made
the town a by-word for corruption and crime. They
Avould do so no more. The Anglo-Saxon race is long-
suffering, especially on the other side of the Atlantic,

224 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

but even Americans will turn at last — and when
they turn, God help their enemies !

Mixer's men — as the Chico Springs army was
afterwards called — were but fifty strong, while
Amenta could put three times as many in the field ;
and further, the former were weary with their ride
of forty miles, and fought in a strange country, while
the Amenta men defended their own hearthstones.
Well might Mixer say to Jeff that morning, when
the young man arrived from the ruined ranche with
his blood aflame : —

" Do not talk so much — keep your wind and
strength for to-night. We go for rats in their holes,
boy, and rats die fighting. ^^

But with all these advantages Amenta was in des-
perate straits. The only places in town that could
stand siege were Nan's and the house of the treasurer
of the race-course, and, thanks to Mixer's knowledge
of the city, and the suddenness of his attack, the first
was taken without the loss of a man. It is, however,
a doubtful advantage to win the first skirmish in a
campaign too easily. While Mixer and Jeff and other
friends gathered round Nat and Maizie and Nan, the
younger men, hot and thirsty, laid eager hands uj^on
whatever liquor had survived the fray at the bar, and

mixer's men. 225

in a very short space of time would have been past
praying for. Luckily Mixer saw the danger, and was
among the wine-bibbers in two strides.

"By the holy Moses, boys, you are the hardest
crowd of heroes ever seen in life. Listen. In five
minutes the rowdies of this town will be coming
through those windoAvs. Is this the way you pro-
pose to meet the racket ? I ask you the question
— is it?"

DoAvn Avent the glasses with a general laugh.

"We're done, Boss. Take us to 'em, quick.

A man now ran in from the street.

" We'll 1)6 blocked. Captain. They are creeping
round us — a crowd double ours, and tough as you
ever see."

Mixer gave one of his dry chuckles.

" Did you look for them to be tender ? Noav to
work, boys — ])riskly. "

The order did not come a moment too soon ; and
if the Amenta men had been led by another Ezekiel
^lixer. Nan's saloon would have been the scene of the
most sanguinary conflict of the night. But though
the enemy was formidable in point of numbers and
determination, the}^ Avere Avithout a leader, and their
moA^ements Avere dilatory. By the time they had

226 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

definitely planned their mode of attack, Mixer had
secured his prisoners in an upper room, brought
down mattresses and blockaded the parlour where
Nan lay under Maizie's care with Dan Shelf or d,
whose nerves were still too much shattered for him
to be of any service in the fight. Then, with Nat's
assistance. Mixer formed an original plan of defence
calculated to surprise the Amenta men.

When the attacking party came within pistol-shot,
they prepared to receive a volley. None came. The
saloon looked deserted. A Avind had risen as the
moon went down, and now moaned with a dreary
sound through the broken windows. Every light
had been quenched, and a silence, strange and weird,
had fallen over the place as if it were under a spell.

In the street all was dark, too. The stores were
shut, bolted, and barred, and their owners watched
with anxious eyes the movements of their friends
around the saloon. Some still cherished a hope that
the strangers were merely sheep-men come to rescue
the girl and kill Rathlee. But the rest knew that
the great feud was dead, and that this was a
rising of settlers of all classes against an intolerable
wrong.

The Amenta men advanced cautiously, but no sign

MIXEP/S MEN. 227

of life appeared in tlie saloon. At last one among
them waved his hat. It was the man with the scar
on his face who had been fortunate enough to escape
the attack by ^vlixer's men.

'' Boys,"" he shouted, ^* will you skulk here all night ?
Charge in, and whip the devils to Kingdom Come.
Forward, every man I "

His words were as the spark to a powder magazine.
A yell and a cheer, and the men rushed on with an
impetus that seemed likely to carry everything before
it. Still there was no sign of life in tlie saloon. As a
consequence a considerable number of men rushed at
the door — so many that they impeded one another's
progress, while comparatively few attacked the win-
dows.

On they came pell-mell, and the foremost were about
to give the door a mighty kick, when it opened before
them to its widest, and they saw what made their
hearts stand still. Two paces from the door crouched
a line of ten men, behind them another line, kneehng,
and behind them again ten more standing. As the
door opened a voice cried *• Fire ! " and thirty rifles
poured a volley forth, which swept down the xVmenta
men as a scythe mows grass, while from the ^\'in-
dows and from the roof flew another hail-storm of

228 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

bullets striking clown besiegers on all sides. They
scattered like sheep, and those who could do so fled
for their lives. Again Zeke spoke, his voice clear
and distinct above all other sound.

"Sally out, boys, give them no time to breathe.
Those on the roof lay still — the rest on with me."

With a thunderous cheer the Mixer men obeyed, and
dashed down the street in hot pursuit. The enemy
made no stand anywhere, but bolted hither and
thither like rabbits, those who were quick enough
taking refuge in the houses round about until the
street Avas clear.

And now what next?

The thoroughfare was won. The enemy were sep-
arated so effectually one from another, that any rally
on their part in sufficient nambers to overthrow the
Mixer men was almost out of the question, but they
were under cover, and began to gall their foes Avith a
fire which could only be stopped in one way.

"Lie down, every one — lie clown."

Mixer was obeyed, and the firing stopped. It was
too dark to mark the figures on the ground. There
was a pause. The boys became impatient and called
Mixer uncomplimentary names. But confidence in
his resources kept them moderately quiet, and in a

mixer's men. 229

few minutes they found their faith well justified.
He had spoken to three men, who flew down the street
to the saloon and returned with something in their
arms. Guided by Mixer, they went to the nearest
house at a point where they could not be seen by the
inhabitants. Then came the scrape of a match, a flash
and flare of light, and the mystery was solved. The
men had brought torches which had been lying ready
for emergencies for weeks at Mixer's store. A steady
wind was blowing ; the dry wood of the frame shanty
caught fire in a moment, and the flames darted up its
walls with a devouring roar.

" Cover doors and windows I " was the cry, and when
the people in the house, half suffocated with smoke,
came tumbling out coughing and choking, they found
themselves surrounded.

" Down arms and surrender ! "

And under the muzzles of the rifles the citizens
obeyed. They were marched off under guard, both
men and women — for there were many women in the
town — and lodged at Nan's.

The next house was approached in the same way,
with the difference that those witldn were called upon
to surrender before the torches were applied. They
refused, the place was fired and stormed, and, with

230 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

some loss, burned down, its occupants driven out,
fighting still, to die.

The sight of the burning houses struck despair
into the hearts of the citizens of Amenta. Some were
for laying down their arms ; but tlie majority, who
— such were their past lives — knew that they fought
with halters round their necks, preferred shooting or
even burning to hanging, and fought with such fury
that some of Mixer's principal allies began to waver.

"Why go on?" they asked. ''The gang is split;
the worst rowdies are all dead, we have done justice,
to do more would be cruelty."

Mixer listened to these arguments without saying
a word, though there were deep murmurs from the
younger men. It was a strange situation. Those
who counselled peace were ranchemen, whose daily
business was often carried on in the face of great
risk to life and limb ; Avho had fought Indians — the
bloodiest of all human foes — and would again, while
Mixer, whose set lips and flashing eyes showed
plainly the feelings Avith Avliich he listened to their
words, was a mere trader who had not struck a blow
or seen blood spilt for ten years past.

In reply to the waverers he said with the quiet-
ness and deliberation habitual to him : —

mixer's mex. 231

"My partners, you speak fair. We are made
different, that is all. I left my wife and cliildren.
I rode forty miles for ^yliat ? To save a girl and
shoot Rathlee ? Xo. I say no. That had to he done
and done first. But that ^Yas for the young men,
and well they did it. I came for something more.
The country you and me have lived in has been
disgraced, and nigh cut to pieces by these men.
We have to see that this shall never be again. You
say, ' Let the place be left to repent its ways.' I
say, 'Finish what you have begun. Take all and
try them justly before honest men.' That is what
I'm here for. Stay by me or leave me, which you
think is right. My body don't leave Amenta till
Amenta's ours. Those who feel this way vamos
now."

He caught up a torch, and striding to the
nearest house, planted it under the eaves on the
windward side. With a mighty shout his men fol-
lowed, not one holding back, and now the citizens
of Amenta felt the end was near.

House after house was fired, stormed, and taken,
until half the town was in flames. The strain upon
the attacking party began to tell, and Mixer sent
to Nan's for reinforcements. One of those who

232 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

went was Nat, now completely exliaustecl. He man-
aged to reach the saloon, give a message to Jeff,
and then fainted — for the first time in his life.

A few minutes later those Avho had stayed behind
to garrison Nan's took the place of their tired com-
rades, and Mixer, with Jeff at his right hand, found
himself stronger than ever.

A new feature in the struggle now began. One
after another of the houses Avere found to be empty.
At first it was thought that in spite of the vigilance
of scouts whom Mixer had placed to prevent escape,
the people were leaving the town ; but presently it
Avas discovered that every man who could, had made
his Avay to the house of the treasurer of the race-
course. Like Nan's, this building had two stories,
but unlike the saloon, the upper story was of wood.
All that could be done, however, to make it formid-
able had been done. Every Avindow and aperture
Avas guarded by men Avith rifles, and a constant drop-
ping fire AA^as poured upon the besiegers Avhen any
came Avithin range. It was here that the last stand
Avas to be made, and it Av^ould be an obstinate one.

To make matters Avorse, AAdien Mixer's men began
to iuA^est the place, and, crouching low in the shadow,
Avaited for the signal to attack, they heard the sob-

mixer's men. 233

bing of women mingled Avith the wail of little chil-
dren. Earnestly did ^lixer call upon those within
to surrender, warning them that no escape was pos-
sible. The answer was a volley of oaths, mingled
with abuse of the worst kind in a woman's voice,
showing too clearlv the character of the inmates.
Xo alternative remained, therefore, and IMixer gave
the word.

" Set to, boys. Look careful to the babies and
women. Xo fire tliis time."

A volley, a counter-volley from the house, a rush
at the door, and a sudden falling back. The door
had holes bored through it, from which came the
bullets of revolvers and the points of knives. The
windows, also, were so well guarded that no impres-
sion could be made there.

"Steady," was Mixer's order. "Hold quiet while
we try a surer way."

The attack ceased, upon Avhich came jeering laughter
from within, and the blood of Mixer's men boiled over.
It Avas the first check, and they Avere in no mood to
brook such opposition. One of them, A\dth an oath,
seized a lighted torch, and deliberately flung it on
the roof. In another moment his example would
have been folloAved bv a dozen others, and the house

23-4 A SOX OF THE PLAINS.

be afire in as many places. But Mixer brought his
rifle to the shoulder, there was a sharp report, and
the man fell dead.

"I did that," Zeke said, looking round, "and if
any one else calling himself a man puts his hand to
burn out children, I will do it again."

No answer was given to this challenge, but those
who had caught up torches dropped them one by
one as if they burnt their hands.

And now arrived what Mixer had sent for as soon
as he saw that the house was going to stand a siege.
It was a huge vega, or beam, which had been left
in a wagon near Nan's. Some of the boys hauled
the wagon to the place of action, and a score
of hands seized upon the beam, dragged it out, and
with a run and a cheer brought it with tremendous
force against the door. Bolts, locks, and bars availed
nothing now ; with a heavy crash the door was carried
off its hinges and laid flat in the hall, with two Amenta
men under it, and half a dozen besiegers sprawling on
top. A yell, and a rush of Mixer men. An answering
shout and a volley from within, then the angry sound
of smothered shots, and blows, groans, and curses,
as the attack and defence, each as stubborn as the

mixer's mex. 235

other, surged through the hall, and up the stairs,
and on from room to room. To add to the confu-
sion and horror of it all the lights had been put
out, and the men fought in darkness.

In the front and fiercest heat of the fray was
Mixer himself, and furious were the attacks made
upon him A\'hen, by his voice, as he encouraged his
men, his Avhereabouts was known. But he seemed
to bear a charmed life — in point of fact he was
protected by a guardian angel in the shape of Jeff
CoUingwood. Jeff had grown to feel the strongest
regard for Zeke Mixer. Though they had only
known one another a few weeks, the nature of the
storekeeper had impressed the younger man with
extraordinary force, and where Mixer led, Jeff would
have followed, had it been into the pit of Tophet.
Go where Mixer might, Jeff was close at hand, with
eyes that seemed to see in the dark as well as if it
were day, Avitli steady nerves, and Avitli the strength
and activity of two men. Step by stej) and inch by
inch the Amenta men Avere driven back. The hall
was free, the stairs were free, and one after another
of the rooms were taken. At last one only at the
top of the house was left. The women and cliildren
were huddled here with half a dozen of the Avounded,

236 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

and a few fighters, tlieir eyes blood-sliot, tlieir limbs
trembling with fatigue, but fierce to the last, and
ready to make a sacrifice of the helpless ones, if, by
so doing, they could kill a few more enemies before
their own turn came. There was some light in this
room, for the day was dawning, and in the roof was
a large window with an eastern view.

Mixer entered the room first, and, ordering his
men to stand, called upon all to surrender. His only
answer was a savage oath, while the women and
children looked on helplessly. Before the struggle
began, however, a sudden, sharp cry rang out, " Fire !
Fire ! " followed by an ominous glare from beneath
the window, and a gush of smoke.

A universal shriek rose from the women. All re-
sistance was at an end. The men, even the wounded
ones, dashed through the window, and rolled or sprang
off the roof, and it seemed as if the w^omen would
follow their example in sheer blind terror. But
Mixer's men, thanks to Zeke and Jeff, did not lose
their heads. In less than five minutes a passage
was cleared down the stairway, and through the
blinding smoke man after man rushed at desperate
speed, each bearing a child or a woman according to
his strength. In the room itself, with the smoke

mixer's men. 237

curlino- throuo-li the boards beneath and the atmos-
phere becoming hotter every moment, Jeff and ^Nlixer
kefit the rest still. A crash below — the staircase
had given way. The crisis was now terrible.

" On the roof, boy,'" Mixer gasped hoarsely to Jeff ;
"fresh air is the only chance."

One woman was already insensible, and how Jeff
managed to lift her through the skylight to ^lixer
he never kncAv, but he did it ; the rest, with his help,
clambered up, and then they saw the full extent
of their peril. The house was burning fiercely, and
in a fcAv minutes the roof must fall in with a crash.
Fortunately the wind had changed, and on the side
where they were clinging there was little smoke. By
this time the boys were all aware that their leader
was in danger and were crowded around the spot,
some holding out a blanket. Into this the children
were dropped safely, then the women. There was
now but one more moment before the roof would
go.

" Jeff, lad — jump ! " cried Mixer, holding back.

Jeff said nothing, but putting a strong arm round
Zeke. with a sudden jerk sent him flying, against his
will, into the Ijlanket. Another crash — the roof was
falling — a cry from the crowd as Jeff nearly lost

238 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

his balance, then a ringing cheer which was repeated
again and again, when, black as coal, with hardly
a hair left on his head, he leapt clear and alighted
on his feet among his friends, unhurt.

CHAPTER XVI.
maizie's explaxatiox.

The fighting was over, Amenta was won, and
Mixer's boys from being* destroyers of life became
ambulance men, nurses of the sick, and even cooks
and maids-of-all-work.

The Western man, like the sailor, can turn his hand
to anything, and when the sun rose every soul who
had the use of his arms and legs, excejot the few
told off to guard the prisoners, was hard at work.

The busiest of all — planning, ordering, doing all
at once — was Zeke himself. His right arm was in a
sling and his head was bound up to cover a fearful
gash over his left eye, but he made nothing of
his hurts and for two hours after his narrow escape
from the Ijurning house, laboured untiringly to evoke
order out of chaos. At last he retired to eat some
breakfast in Xan's parlour. Xan was here, sitting
up, hardly less busy in her way than Mixer. She

239

240 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

was not allowed to move, but from her coucli made
shrewd and practical suggestions, gave information
as to the whereabouts of stores of provisions and
linen, and placed at Zeke's disposal everything she
possessed.

By evening only the smoking ruins of the burnt
houses still gave evidence to the eye of what had
happened in the preceding twenty-four hours. The
dead were underground, the wounded in hospital ;
and even the prisoners, having been supplied with
food and drink and allowed as much liberty as the
circumstances of the case admitted, were in better
spirits, and talked cheerfully of suing Mixer for
damages and false imprisonment.

The following day the principal ranchemen of the
surrounding country rode in to congratulate Mixer,
and to take part in the trial of the prisoners. A jury
of twelve of these was formed and sworn in. Mixer,
by unanimous consent, was selected judge, and within
three days every Amenta citizen, including Nan her-
self, had been brought to trial.

The prisoners were heard in their own defence,
questioned by the jury, cross-questioned by the judge,
and then summarily dealt with in one of three ways.
Those against whom murder was proved were sen-

3IAizie's explanation. 241

tenced to death. Those who were known to have
robbed, or in other ways maltreated their neighbours,
were heavily lined in amonnts according to their
means. Those against whom nothing definite was
proved, but of whom much was suspected, were
ordered to leave the toAvn Avith all their belongings
in twenty-fuur hours.

The most difficult case to deal with was Xan's=
After long deliberation the judge and jury were
inclined trt make the punishment merely nominal, in
consideration of the protection she had afforded Maizie
and Xat, her personal injuries, and the wreck of her
saloon, which by the time all was over had been
stripped of its stock and a great deal of its furniture.
But the prisoner, to the astonishment of her judges,
refused to be let off.

" 'Tain't fair," she said when informed of the decis-
ion. •' I haA-e not robbed, neither have I killed. But
I've helped the worst. I have Avinked at Avhat I
mio-ht have staved. The bovs of Amenta kep" me,
good and bad alike. Put my name doAA^n and take
82000 and Avliat is left here and tell me to quit the
toAA-n."" This Avas done and early on the morning
following her trial Xan set forth upon a journey.

She went to Chico Springs. Nat and Jeff, ]\Iaizie

242 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

and her father, were going that day, and Maizie,
finding that the sick woman's one desire was not
to lose sight of Nat, proposed that she shoukl go with
them. A light spring wagon was chartered, and fitted
with cushions and pillows, and with Dan driving,
Maizie in charge of Nan, and Nat and Jeff riding, they
set off, no one knowing but Nan herself that the
doctor had expressed it as his deliberate opinion that a
journey so soon would cause inflammation of her
wound and probably death.

Nan had her reasons for defying the doctor. She
was anxious about Nat. Her eyes were sharp, and her
perceptions, keen at all times, were quickened by the
love she bore him. His reserve, and the stoicism of
his quiet manner, though proof against all other eyes,
did not deceive her for an instant. While his friends
found in his wound and the physical strain he had
undergone sufficient explanation for his haggard looks,
and a settled despondency and silence which had
marked him since the night in the saloon. Nan saw
something more. Something which robbed her of
sleep at night far more than the pain of her wound —
something that filled her with a feeling almost amount-
ing to dismay. She saw that life was worthless to
him — because the girl he had so nearly died for

maizie's explanation. 243

only gave in return for all his love the affection
of a friend. All this Xan saw clearl}' enough,
and to see it was sufficient to make her determine to
help him. But how? She was sure that Xat had
spoken and been refused. He avoided being alone
with Maizie. He rarely looked at her, or spoke to her.
Moreover, it Avas plain that Maizie noticed this and
was pained and puzzled. Yet, closely as Nan watched
the girl's face, she never once saw anything to give
her ground for belief that Xat was making a mistake.
And Xan was afraid of Maizie.

The journey was a long and tiresome one. It was
very hot, and there Avas no shade for Xan but the
wagon tilt. This, added to her anxiety of mind,
brought on inflammation, prophesied by AVashington,
and while they were ten miles still from Chico Springs
she ]:»ecame so ill that a halt was made at a ranche
by the wayside, and Jeff rode forward to fetch a
doctor.

The doctor came in a few hours, and Avith him
Mrs. Mixer, Avho, touched by the story Jeff told of
Nan's devotion, came to be nurse-in-chief, bringing
a buggy full of medicines and comforts. But Xan
would haA'e no nurse but IMaizie, and the doctor
pronounced her in so critical a condition that she

244 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

must be allowed to have her way. The fever
steadily mcreased, Nan became delirious, and for
twenty-four hours lay between life and death. The
next day there were signs of a change. The
delirium ceased, and she became conscious of her
surroundings; and Maizie hoped that the worst was
passed. But the doctor shook his head.

" There's no telling — but I don't like her looks.
If she had lived as Mis' Mixer there, I believe
she'd rally, but she has spiled the constitootion
natur' give her by — by the keeping of saloons, and
natur's rounding on her now. She'll sink."

The doctor spoke the truth. Nan had no more
fever, and did not lose consciousness again ; but she
grew steadily weaker. She was in no pain, and lay
there as peacefully as if her life had been blameless
as a child's. From the beginning she told Maizie
she had no hope herself.

" I felt I were gone, dear, when I dropped in
the saloon. There's something tells one. That was
why Judge Mixer found me so generous yesterday.
I am not sorry to go. Seems as if I ought to, for,
come to think, few of the boys, bad as they were,
was half so bad as me. What ? Sonny and you !
Nothing is due to me. I stood out for you both

maizie's explanation. 245

'cause I loved him. No virtue, noways, iu fighting
for what you love. Yes — I hev been bad, and
there is not a parson anywheres, if he spoke the
truth, who would dare to bet one cent upon my
soul. Yet I'm not afraid to die. I know all 'bout
hell-fire. As far as I can recollect, our minister
taught nothing else where I were bred. Maybe he
was right. I dunno — yet someway it is not that
which holds my mind tightest. I believe that w^hat-
ever they do to me that's bad, they'll let me see
my baby boy. An' if they do I'll not complain if
the fire and brimstone come along in buckets after-
wards."

She paused and closed her eyes and opened them
to say drowsily : —

" Let me doze a spell, while you bring sonny in.
I don't feel I quite know when I may go, and I
want to see his face."

Maizie rose gently, and then struck by a painful
look of yearning on the haggard face, from which
all the coarse hard lines had been refined away,
she stooped over Nan and kissed her. The dying
woman started, then raised herself with such a
gesture as the one she had made when imploring Nat's
confidence in the saloon, and clutched Maizie's hands.

246 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

" Do you mean that ? " she gasped.

" Yes," said Maizie wonderiiigly.

"Then you will bear one word from the old
woman 'fore she dies. I only want to ask a ques-
tion just for to ease my mind. See, then: A while
ago you was in danger. Now you are as safe as
can be. Why? 'Cos a man stepped in alone where
none else dared to go, and brought you out. I
have lived many years ; and when I was young I
read many books, but I never saw nor read of any
deed quite similar to Nat's. You feel so, too? You
do f Yet he cannot reach your heart ! There, I
won't ask my question. What should a gell with-
out a heart answer anyway? Let him go back East
to his folk. Better out of sight than to tear his
heart in two loving what don't love him. Yet — I
will ask my question after all. Why is it ? Why
don't you love him with that love he has given
you?"

While Nan was speaking she became more and
more excited. Blue veins stood out on her fore-
head ; she trembled all over ; her brows drew down
into their old frown, and her face, for all its thin-
ness, became almost as fierce as when she defied
the Rathlee gang. When she said the last words

maizie's explaxatiox. 247

she searched Maizie's face with eyes that pierced to
the soul. As she gazed the fierceness gave place
to bewilderment so overpowering that she could
hardly answer the question with which ]\Iaizie made
reply.

" Why should you say I have no heart ? — you are
making a great mistake."

" Old folk like me don't make mistakes, gell. Yet
your looks, now — but say, what is the mistake you
reckon I have made ? ''

Maizie paused a moment before speaking. Under
Nan's gaze her cheeks had turned fier}^ red and her
words came brokenly. Now she mastered her con-
fusion and spoke in a quiet voice, though the flush
was still upon her face.

" From what you said you seem to think that Nat
loves — me. It is my sister."

Nan opened her mouth here, but shut it again
without speaking. ]\[aizie waited an instant and
then went on hurriedly.

"If you knew Bel, such an idea as this would
never have occurred to you. She is beautiful, she
is everything which I am not. I suspected what
was going on when we travelled from Kansas : after
he left us at Chico Springs I became quite sure.

248 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

And only the other day he said somethmg about it
and 1 — " Maizie cleared her throat.

Nan caught her up sharply.

"What did you say, little one? Tell me all."

"1 only said — " Maizie spoke in a whisper now —
"that I understood and loved him — as a sister."

Again Nan's eyes swept searchingly over the girl's
face and again that face reddened deeply. Neither
of them spoke for a little while, then Nan murmured
in a feeble voice : —

" Kiss me — little one," and as Maizie bent over
her: "You were right, my daisy, I made — a big
mistake. Now send sonny in."

Nat sat with her a long time. It was the after-
noon, and the household of the ranche were assembled
in the kitchen, sitting round the lighted stove, as
Western folk will do in the hottest weather, gos-
siping. The doctor was there w^ith Dan Shelford
and Mrs. Mixer, and the good lady of the ranche,
who, in hospitable Western fashion, made nothing of
this upset to all her family arrangements. In the
room next to Nan's, furnished with some pretence to
elegance, and therefore rigorously avoided by its
owners except on Sunday, Maizie sat alone, darning
her father's socks. While her fingers flew busily

maizie's explanation. 249

her thoughts swung like a pendulum from those
words of Nan's to that time when Xat had spoken
to her about his love — and she had, as she thought,
answered so judiciously.

What Avas she to think now? Maizie knitted her
brows and thought hard for the space of half an
hour. At the end of tliat time she heard the sound
of an opening door, and Xat came into the room.
"How^ is she?"
'' Sinking fast."

Maizie set her work aside, and as she rose, Shep,
who was lying at her feet, rose too ; and leaning
lovingly against her looked at his master, and slowly
wagged his tail.

"I must go to her," Maizie said.
"Not yet."

She looked up and tried to speak. But no words
came. He took her hands and laid them on her
breast.

" ]\Iaizie, is there any hope for me ? "
Her lips trembled, and she smiled, but still she
did not speak. Slowly then, but very tenderly,
Nat's arm closed round her, and he took his answer
from her lips.

A sound came from the other room, a faint voice

250 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

calling Nat by name. He answered and went in,
holding Maizie by the hand.

Nan was breathing with difficulty. Her face was
drawn and grey with the shadow of approaching
death, but when she saw Nat and Maizie she feebly
held out her hands.

" So all is right," she whispered faintly. " Kiss me,
sonny. Maizie, little one, — " she gasped for breath,
and in her eyes there was a deprecating, imploring
look which the girl could not understand at first,
— "I was bad, oh, I was wicked — if you can for-
give — tell me, before God, with your hand in
sonny's. Can you — can you forgive me what I
might have done ? "

Maizie dropjDcd on her knees and kissed the anxious
face.

" I forgive it all. God bless you."

Nan sighed, and the deep furrows in her forehead
smoothed themselves away. Her eyes closed, the
clasp of her hand upon Nat's relaxed, and without a
struggle or a pang she passed peacefully away.

CHAPTER XVII.

JEFF TAKES ADVICE.

Najst's funeral took ]Aa.ce at Chico Springs. Her
instructions on the matter to Nat had been precise.

'' Mind, sonny I Xo preaching, nor praying, nor
nothing. Put me in deep and leave me there, and
don't have no stone cross nor railing round the grave.
Though I'm a bad woman, and the world's well quit
of me, I want no one to intercede about my soul.
That I have to wrastle out alone with the Almighty.
If your little one in there will forgive me, and you
think kindly of the old woman now and then — I
ask no more from any one on earth."

They buried her, according to her wish, and no
funeral service was read over the grave, and by the
springtime, when the fresh grass grew over it, only
Nat and IMaizie knew where the poor body had been
laid to rest.

When Mixer returned from Amenta, it was found

251

252 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

that Nan left a will with him, leaving all she j)os-
sessecl to Nat — a sum not far short of -^20,000.
This money, however, Nat, with Maizie's full con-
sent, refused to take, and after much discussion in-
duced Mixer to divide it among the families of those
who had lost their husbands and sons in the battle
of Amenta.

The news of Nat's and ]\Iaizie's engagement was
received by their friends, with two exceptions, with
the complacency and smiling patronage of people
who had known what Avas going to happen all the
time, and were surprised that it had not haj)pened
before. The exceptions were Bel and Jeff. Bel
embraced her sister rapturously.

" Oh, Maizie, that is just right. It is funny to
think, now, that until Mr. Collingwood brought us
that dreadful news about you, and said that Nat,
looking like death itself, had gone after those hor-
rible men alone, I never guessed Avhat made him so
very angry with father that day for offering him
money. But after this I never doubted what his
feelings were. I am so delighted, darling — and as
for Nat, he deserves even you. Mr. Collingwood
says he is the bravest man he ever saw in his
life."

JEFF TAKES ADVICE. 253

Something in the tone in which Bel said these last
words struck Maizie — her wits sharpened by her own
experience — and the last little lingering doubt as to
the reality of Bel's delight in her engagement was
at once removed. A long and confidential chat be-
tween the sisters ensued. Some hours later Nat
received Jeff's congratulations.

" I don't knoAV how to put the Avords. The best
has happened. To me, a girl — such a one as Maizie
or her sister — seems most too good for common
men. AYhat are we, anyway? Rough, used to rus-
tling round among hard j^laces and hard people ;
while tliey — ^vhy, they're as white and pure
as angels. So I have grown to feel that before
you or me can claim for his own a woman's
love, he should have gone through tight times
like a man, and earned it. I get mad when I
hear men talk of women as the boys in the East
do, as if all you had to care for to win a wife was
piling up dollars for pin-money and housekeeping.
Dollars must be made, Ave know, but money Avon't
make a man. Xow, you haA'e gone through your
fire. So good luck to your happiness, old boy,
and hers."

He shook hands, and then AA'ith a sudden half sigh

254 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

turned away. Nat laid a hand upon liis arm. '' And
how about yourself ? "

Jeff laughed a joyless laugh. " Me ? Happiness
is not in my way at present."

Nat hesitated. He was not one of those who find
it easy to draw confidences from others. Up to this
time it had never occurred to him to do such a
thing ; but late events had quickened his sympathies
and opened his eyes to many things, and the dangers
Jeff had shared with him, as well as something in the
man himself, made Nat feel a sudden desire to know
the cause of a depression of spirits which had fallen
upon Jeff of late. Yet he had no right to pry into
other people's business.

" Jeff," he said after a moment's pause, " I am
going to ask a question. It is not a fair one,
and you may feel it interfering. If so, dry me up.
Has it ever occurred to you — say before the Amenta
raid — that happiness might be in your way ? "

Jeff nodded but did not speak.

"What has put you off?"

"Mixer."

" Since the raid ? "

"Yes."

" What was his argument ? "

JEFF TAKES ADVICE. ZOO

" Want of money. Mind yon, ^lixer's right. He
did not pnt me off tlie track entirely. Bnt lie talked
— well, common sense. At least I gness so. Bnt,
some way, p'raps becanse I'm ratlier beaten down by
the little frizzling I got, and the fighting, it seems
rather hard. However, I promised. So there is no
more to be said, only I'm not going to stay round
here long;. I could not stand it."

" What promise did you give ? "

" That I would not speak to — to her, nor look
her way again, till I had put by a pile — say 82000
at least. Xow that, to me, is a big sum. and will
take me years to make. Meanwhile she — Bel — you
guess who it is so I may say her name, what will
she think ? That is what bothers me so bad. If she
cares she won't like it. If she don't care, well, hadn't
I better know ? But, there, why do I talk foolish-
ness ? Mixer must be risfht. I know he is, and I
will go away. I Ijelieve I'll go to-night. Could you
make excuses for me, Xat ? "

But Nat did not hear the question. He had fallen
into one of his silent fits, and seemed to have for-
gotten Jeff. But as the latter, a little hurt, was
about to go away, Xat stopped him. '• Tell me this
— have you ever spoken to Dan ? "

256 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

Jeff grinned. " Need you ask ? Would you, if
you had not a cent, care to face that man on
such a point ? I should be afraid he might have
a fit, or give me one. No, I have not spoken to
Dan."

"He is her father," observed Nat in a reflective
tone. " Mixer is not. Are you afraid of him ? "

SgE drew himself up.

" If that is your idea, I'll go at once. Afraid !
Ten Dan Shelf or ds, each meaner than the one before,
would not scare me. I'll speak to him to-night, before
I go. Thank you for the hint."

Jeff spoke with some heat, and Nat's eyes twinkled,
but he did not let Jeff see it.

" Well," Nat rejoined gravely, " don't let me advise ;
but if you feel that way I would certainly speak, only
not before sundown. And as to your departure —
put that off till to-morroAV."

After a little further talk this was agreed to, and
the friends parted — Jeff to do some work for Mixer,
Nat to think over a sudden idea which had occurred
to him while Jeff Avas relating his troubles.

How Jeff got through the rest of the day he never
could remember. Carry it off as he might before

JEFF TAKES ADVICE. 257

Nat, he was, in truth, horribly afraid of Dan Shel-
forcl — when it came to the point of asking his consent
to the paying of addresses to BeL Then Zeke woukl
not at all approve. Yet, as Nat had said, Dan was
her father, and after all, things could not ])e worse
than they were at present. Anyhow, he had said
he would do it, and do it he must. Jeff waited
until Dan had supped, and then brusquely invited
him to the saloon, and called for sherry cobblers.

Dan Shelford was quite his old dry self. In :\Iixer's
absence he was managing the store, and having made
money in various ways out of the Amenta troubles,
was as well satisfied with himself and tlie world in
general as it was in his nature to be. His nerves
were in excellent condition for driving a hard bargain.
It was an ill omen, also, for Jeff, that after taking
their drinks at the bar, they retired to the very
same place where Nat and Dan had parted so abruptly
a few weeks before. Perhaps Dan thought of this
parting, — which had so nearly resulted in the loss
of his dearest possession. — for his face, as he leant
over the balcony and waited for Jeff to open his
business, looked hard and drawn.

" You won't care to hear what I have to tell, Mr.
s

258 A SON OF THE PLAINS.

Slielforcl," began Jeff, hurriedly. " But I reckon to
speak, and chance it. I — I had the good fortune a
little bit ago to brush up against road agents near
Las Animas. It happened that in the coach besides
me were — were other folk, and amongst them your
daughter, Miss Bel."

Jeff stopped here, and drew a mighty breath. Dan
said nothing, and Jeff fancied he was very grim.

" \Ye — we squelched those road agents, and became
all of us kind of intimate and friendly."

^'So I heard," said Dan, very dryly. Jeff got
desperate.

''Afterwards I rode down to Chico Springs, and
was at Mixer's. So was Miss Bel, — and then, — well,
— I felt everything for her — and so I do now — and
that's v/liat I wanted to say. She is your daughter,
and I felt you ought to know it. Now, Avhat I want
to knoAV is, what do you think of it ? Will you let
me speak to her? Or will you shut right down on
me because I'm poor?"

There was a long silence. The murder was out
at last, and Jeff, relieved yet distinctly apprehensive,
waited to hear his fate. He expected sarcastic, cruel
words. He expected questions very pointed and

JEFF TAKES ADVICE. 259

not too polite, about his present means and future
prospects. For a few minutes no reply came at all.
Then Dan said sIoavIy : —

'• You have not, I prestune. spoken of this to Bel ? "

"Xo."

" That," Dan went on. " was fair, for she is young.
Yoti want my idees. I'll give them. First, marriage
when there ain't plenty to fill the pot even in a bad
year is nothing less than misery. You are poor, you
say. Then you can't marry — yet. Second, a young
girl like Bel. eighteen come next January, don't know
nothino' of men. She thinks she does, but she do
not. Xow, with these points made clear, how do we
stand ? Kind of far away, I guess. But that ain't
all in this case. For there are circtimstances which
I may call pecooliar. A man spoke to me of you
this afternoon," — Jeff gave a perceptible start, — -I
see you know his name. He did not say mtich. He
ain't one who does, but I know, by experience, that
he 7neans more than most. It happens that I owe
him something. The only man I do owe a cent to in
all this world. I ain't going to tell you what he
said. But I would like to know this : if a man —
it might be me — made you an offer of partnership

260 A SOi^ OF THE PLAINS.

in stock, would you settle in this country once for
all ; drive in your stakes to stay, and work year in,
year out, steady and straight and true ? Would you
do all that, Jefferson Collingwood ? "

Jeff gasped, and the railing of the balcony on
which he leaned shook again. AVhat did this incom-
prehensible little man mean, with his keen, dry face,
and sharp e3^es peering up under his hat-brim, and
his words of hope and good cheer ?

"Is — this — business?" Jeff panted at last.

" That depends on you."

" Then I say yes — ye^ a hundred times. Why,
that is all I want. Give me such a start as that,
and I would not be poor for long if hard work
counts for anything."

" Yet you have not stuck, so far," said Dan ; " you
have been most everyAvhere and settled nowheres.
Is not that so ? "

"You are right," Jeff replied humbly, "quite
right. But I never had anything to stay for.
Now ? But there is one thing yet. If some one —
God bless him, whoever he is — be ready to give me
a start, how about your daughter? May I — will
she — what ? "

JEFF TAKES ADVICE. 261

Dan smiled, a dry, caustic smile, yet if his face
could look benevolent I tliink it must have done
so as he said, patting his tall companion gently on
the shoulder : —

" That — my good Jefferson — I rather guess you
had better find out yourself."

THE END.

THE STICKIT MINISTER,

AND SOME COMMON MEN.

S. R. CROCKETT.

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THE RAIDERS,

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life in the Somerset district of England. — Boston Traveler.

'* A sweet little English tale, idyllic in subject and manner. It is
simply the story of an invalid boy who lies in the old manor house, in
*the room where the king hid,' and lives in a world of romance, and
of the buxom httle cousin who loves and serves him. The picture is
delicately painted, yet firmly and clearly, and with a poetic atmosphere
that is very charming." — Philadelphia Times.

" No gentler or sweeter tale has appeared in years than Walter Ray-
mond's 'Tryphena in Love.'"

" A dehcious, dreamy love story, told for the love of telling." —
Chicago Times-Herald.

MACMILLAN & CO.,

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.

A LOST ENDEAVOUR,

GUY BOOTHBY,

Author of " A Bid for Fortune," etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY

STANLEY L. WOOD.

i6mo. Cloth. 75 Cents.

Mr. Boothby is rapidly winning a name and a place for
himself as a writer of stories full of the magic of the Pacific.

" It is full of the dramatic spirit, no less in its language
than its character, its action equally with both. The author
has shown that he is the possessor of rare powers in
narrating events and portraying scenes, that indicate large
and strong work in fictitious design and development in
the future. The far western skies and softening landscapes
furnish the setting for a story that is told with superior skill,
dramatic power, and literary fin;sh." — Boston Courier.

MACMILLAN & CO.,

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEV^ YORK.
5

AN EXPERIMENT IN ALTRUISM.

ELIZABETH HASTINGS.

i6mo. Cloth. 75 cents.

"Elizabeth Hastings' new book, 'An Experiment in
Altruism/ is a remarkably strong and significant work, dis-
cussing in story form one of the vital questions of the day."
— Boston Budget.

" This fresh and wholesome essay-story and prophecy of
better things." — Philadelphia Press.

"The volume is not only entertaining, but is valuable.
The author, Elizabeth Hastings, has scored a success in her
first attempt in the world ^ of literature." — Boston Daily
Advertiser.

MACMILLAN & CO.,

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEV/^ YORK.
6

THE WINGS OF ICARUS,

Being the Life of one Emilia Fletcher,
as revealed by herself in

I. Thirty=five Letters written to Constance Norris between July i6,

i88=, and Alarch 26 of the following year.
II. A Fragmentary Journal.
ill. A Postscript.

LAURENCE ALMA TADEMA.

i8mo. Buckram, gilt top. $1.25.

" It is a study of the inner workings of the human heart ; and if the
motives of a soul were ever laid bare, it has been done in 'The Wings
of Icarus.' ... A good story, told in an intensely natural and interest-
ing manner." — Providence Xews.

" In ' The Wings of Icarus,' Laurence Alma Tadema has given us a
book which, for its literary excellence and for its exquisite pen coloring
and finish in every detail, is as artistic a piece of work as ever her dis-
tinguished father has produced with his brush." — Boston Home
yournai.

" It is at once delicate and forcible, and holds in its story a depth of
passion whose expression is yet kept within the limits of a true refine-
ment." — Philadelphia Evening Bulletin.

" It is exquisite in style, spontaneous, and well-sustained in movement."

" It is a story of Italian coloring delicately suggestive, artistic rather
than strong, dreamy rather than aggressive." — Chicago Evening Post.

MACMILLAN & CO,

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
7

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