[LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 I SAN DIEGO j 
 
 --.*f*
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 GAYLORD 
 
 "RINTED IN U.S
 
 "_I CONQUERED"
 
 Page 96 
 
 The Captain tore at the shoulders and reck of the gray horse with 
 his gleaming teclli
 
 "I Conquered 
 
 By HAROLD TITUS 
 
 With Frontispiece in Colors 
 By CHARLES M. RUSSEU* 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 
 Publishers New York 
 
 Published by Arrangements with RAND. MCNALLY & COMPANY
 
 Copyright, 1916, 
 By RAND MCNALLY & COMPANY
 
 THE CONTENTS 
 
 I. DENUNCIATION 7 
 
 II. A YOUNG MAN GOES WEST . . .21 
 
 III. "I VE DONE MY PICKIN" .... 36 
 
 IV. THE TROUBLE HUNTER 48 
 
 V. JED PHILOSOPHIZES 62 
 
 VI. AMBITION Is BORN 74 
 
 VII. WITH HOOP AND TOOTH 89 
 
 VIII. A HEAD OF YELLOW HAIR .... 98 
 
 IX. PURSUIT 106 
 
 X. CAPTURE 120 
 
 XI. A LETTER AND A NARRATIVE . . .131 
 
 XII. WOMAN WANTS 141 
 
 XIII. VB FIGHTS 151 
 
 XIV. THE SCHOOLHOUSE DANCE . . . .163 
 XV. MURDER 181 
 
 XVI. THE CANDLE BURNS 192 
 
 XVII. GREAT MOMENTS 201 
 
 XVIII. THE LIE 2x4 
 
 XIX. THROUGH THE NIGHT 226 
 
 XX. THE LAST STAND 235 
 
 XXL GUNS CRASH 245 
 
 XXII. TABLES TURN; AND TURN AGAIN . .254 
 
 XXIII. LIFE, THE TROPHY 265 
 
 XXIV. VICTORY 276 
 
 XXV. "THE LIGHT!" 290 
 
 XXVI. To THE VICTOR 297
 
 "_ I CONQUERED" 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 DENUNCIATION 
 
 DANNY LENOX wanted a drink. The desire 
 came to him suddenly as he stood looking 
 down at the river, burnished by bright young day. 
 It broke in on his lazy contemplation, wiped out 
 the indulgent smile, and made the young face 
 serious, purposeful, as though mighty consequence 
 depended on satisfying the urge that had just 
 come up within him. 
 
 He was the sort of chap to whom nothing much 
 had ever mattered, whose face generally bore 
 that kindly, contented smile. His grave con 
 sideration had been aroused by only a scant 
 variety of happenings from the time of a pam 
 pered childhood up through the gamut of bubbling 
 boyhood, prep school, university, polo, clubs, and 
 a growing popularity with a numerous clan until 
 he had approached a state of established and 
 widely recognized worthlessness. 
 
 Economics did not bother him. It mattered 
 not how lavishly he spent ; there had always been 
 more forthcoming, because Lenox senior had a 
 world of the stuff. The driver of his taxicab
 
 8 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 just now whirling away seemed surprised when 
 Danny waved back change, but the boy did 
 not bother himself with thought of the bill he 
 had handed over. 
 
 Nor did habits which overrode established 
 procedure for men cause him to class himself 
 apart from the mass. He remarked that the 
 cars zipping past between him and the high 
 river embankment were stragglers in the morn 
 ing flight businessward ; but he recognized no 
 difference between himself and those who scooted 
 toward town, intent on the furtherance of seri 
 ous ends. 
 
 What might be said or thought about his 
 obvious deviation from beaten, respected paths 
 was only an added impulse to keep smiling with 
 careless amiability. It might be commented 
 on behind fans in drawing rooms or through 
 mouths full of food in servants halls, he knew. 
 But it did not matter. 
 
 However something mattered. He wanted 
 a drink. 
 
 And it was this thought that drove away the 
 smile and set the lines of his face into seriousness, 
 that sent him up the broad walk with swinging, 
 decisive stride, his eyes glittering, his lips taking 
 moisture from a quick-moving tongue. He needed 
 a drink! 
 
 Danny entered the Lenox home up there on 
 the sightly knoll, fashioned from chill- white 
 stone, staring composedly down on the drive
 
 DENUNCIATION 9 
 
 from its many black-rimmed windows. The 
 heavy front door shut behind him with a muf 
 fled sound like a sigh, as though it had been 
 waiting his coming all through the night, just 
 as it had through so many nights, and let sup 
 pressed breath slip out in relief at another return. 
 
 A quick step carried him across the vestibule 
 within sight of the dining-room doorway. He 
 flung his soft hat in the general direction of a 
 cathedral bench, loosed the carelessly arranged 
 bow tie, and with an impatient jerk unbuttoned 
 the soft shirt at nis full throat. Of all things, 
 from conventions to collars, Danny detested those 
 which bound. And just now his throat seemed to 
 be swelling quickly, to be pulsing; and already 
 the glands of his mouth responded to the thought 
 of that which was on the buffet in a glass decanter 
 amber and clear and 
 
 At the end of the hallway a door stood open, 
 and Danny s glance, passing into the room it 
 disclosed, lighted on the figure of a man stooping 
 over a great expanse of table, fumbling with 
 papers fumbling a bit slowly, as with age, the 
 boy remarked even in the flash of a second his 
 mind required to register a recognition of his 
 father. 
 
 Danny stopped. The yearning of his throat, 
 the call of his tightening nerves, lost potency for 
 the moment; the glitter of desire in his dark eyes 
 softened quickly. He threw back his handsome 
 he ad with a gesture of affection that was almost
 
 io "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 girlish, in spite of its muscular strength, and the 
 smile came back, softer, more indulgent. 
 
 His brow clouded a scant instant when he 
 turned to look into the dining room as he walked 
 down the long, dark, high-ceilinged hall, and his 
 step hesitated. But he put the impulse off, 
 going on, with shoulders thrown back, rubbing 
 his palms together as though wholesomely happy. 
 
 So he passed into the library. 
 
 "Well, father, it s a good morning to you!" 
 
 At the spontaneous salutation the older man 
 merely ceased moving an instant. He remained 
 bent over the table, one hand arrested in the 
 act of reaching for a document. It was as 
 though he held his breath to listen or to cal 
 culate quickly. 
 
 The son walked across to him, approaching 
 from behind, and dropped a hand on the stooping, 
 black-clothed shoulder. 
 
 "How go " 
 
 Danny broke his query abruptly, for the other 
 straightened with a half -spoken word that was, 
 at the least, utmost impatience; possibly a word 
 which, fully uttered, would have expressed dis 
 gust, perhaps even loathing! And on Danny 
 was turned such a mask as he had never seen 
 before. The cleanly shaven face was dark. The 
 cold blue eyes flashed a chill fire and the grim 
 slit of a tightly closed mouth twitched, as did 
 the fingers at the skirts of the immaculate coat. 
 
 Lenox senior backed away, putting out a hand
 
 DENUNCIATION u 
 
 to the table, edging along until a corner of it 
 was between himself and his heir. Then the 
 hand, fingers stiffly extended, pressed against 
 the table top. It trembled. 
 
 The boy flushed, then smiled, then sobered. On 
 the thought of what seemed to him the certain 
 answer to the strangeness of this reception, his 
 voice broke the stillness, filled with solicitude. 
 
 "Did I startle you?" he asked, and a smile 
 broke through his concern. "You jumped as 
 though " 
 
 Again he broke short. His father s right hand, 
 palm outward, was raised toward him and moved 
 quickly from side to side. That gesture meant 
 silence! Danny had seen it used twice before 
 - once when a man of political power had let 
 his angered talk rise in the Lenox house until 
 it became disquieting; once when a man came 
 there to plead. And the gesture on those occa 
 sions had carried the same quiet, ominous con 
 viction that it now impressed on Danny. 
 
 The voice of the old man was cold and hard, 
 almost brittle for lack of feeling. 
 
 "How much will you take to go?" he asked, 
 and breathed twice loudly, as though struggling 
 to hold back a bursting emotion. 
 
 Danny leaned slightly forward from his hips 
 and wrinkled his face in his inability to under 
 stand. 
 
 "What?" He drawled out the word. "Once 
 more, please?"
 
 12 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 "How much will you take to go?" 
 
 Again the crackling, colorless query, by its 
 chill strength narrowing even the thought which 
 must transpire in the presence of the speaker. 
 
 How much will I take to go ? " repeated Danny. 
 "How much what? To go where?" 
 
 Lenox senior blinked, and his face darkened. 
 His voice lost some of its edge, became a trifle 
 muffled, as though the emotion he had breathed 
 hard to suppress had come up into his throat and 
 adhered gummily to the words. 
 
 How much money how much money will 
 you take to go away from here ? Away from me ? 
 Away from New York ? Out of my sight out 
 of my way?" 
 
 Once more the fingers pressed the table top 
 and the fighting jaw of the gray-haired man 
 protruded slowly as the younger drew nearer 
 a faltering step, two three, until he found 
 support against the table. 
 
 There across the corner of the heavy piece of 
 furniture they peered at each other; one in silent, 
 mighty rage; the other with eyes widening, 
 quick, confusing lights playing across their depths 
 as he strove to refuse the understanding. 
 
 How much money to go away from New 
 York from you? Out of your way?" 
 
 Young Danny s voice rose in pitch at each 
 word as with added realization the strain on his 
 emotions increased. His body sagged forward 
 and the hands on the table bore much of its
 
 DENUNCIATION 13 
 
 weight; so much that the elbows threatened to 
 give, as had his knees. 
 
 "To go away why ? Why is this ? 
 
 In his query was something of the terror of a 
 frightened child; in his eyes something of the look 
 of a wounded beast. 
 
 "You ask me why!" 
 
 Lenox senior straightened with a jerk and fol 
 lowed the exclamation with something that had 
 been a laugh until, driven through the rage within 
 him, it became only a rattling rasp in his throat. 
 
 "You ask me why!" he repeated. "You ask 
 me why!" 
 
 His voice dropped to a thin whisper; then, 
 anger carrying it above its normal tone : 
 
 "You stand here in this room, your face like 
 suet from months and years of debauchery, your 
 mind unable to catch my idea because of the 
 poison you have forced on it, because of the 
 stultifying thoughts you have let occupy it, 
 because of the ruthless manner in which you have 
 wasted its powers of preception, of judgment, 
 and ask me why!" 
 
 In quick gesture he leveled a vibrating finger 
 at the face of his son and with pauses between the 
 words declared : You are why ! 
 
 Danny s elbows bent still more under the 
 weight on them, and his lips worked as he tried 
 to force a dry throat through the motions of 
 swallowing. On his face was reflected just 
 one emotion surprise. It was not rage,
 
 i 4 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 not resentment, not shame, not fear just 
 surprise. 
 
 He was utterly confused by the abruptness 
 of his father s attack; he was unable to plumb 
 the depths of its significance, although an inher 
 ent knowledge of the other s moods told him 
 that he faced disaster. 
 
 Then the older man was saying: 
 
 "You have stripped yourself of everything 
 that God and man could give you. You have 
 thrown the gems of your opportunity before your 
 swinish desires. You have degenerated from the 
 son your mother bore to a worthless, ambition- 
 less, idealless, thoughtless drunkard!" 
 
 Danny took a half -step closer to the table, 
 his eyes held on those others with mechanical 
 fixity. 
 
 "Father but, dad- he tried to protest. 
 
 Again the upraised, commanding palm. 
 
 "I have stood it as long as I can. I have 
 suggested from time to time that you give seri 
 ous consideration to things about you and to 
 your future; suggested, when a normal young 
 man would have gone ahead of his own volition 
 to meet the exigencies every individual must 
 face sooner or later. 
 
 "But you would have none of it! From your 
 boyhood you have been a waster. I hoped once 
 that all the trouble you gave us was evidence of 
 a spirit that would later be directed toward a 
 good end. But I was never justified in that.
 
 DENUNCIATION 15 
 
 "You wasted your university career. Why, 
 you were n t even a good athlete ! You man 
 aged to graduate, but only to befog what little 
 hope then remained to me. 
 
 "You have had everything you could want; 
 you had money, friends, and your family name. 
 What have you done? Wasted them! You had 
 your polo string and the ability to play a great 
 game, but what came of it? You d rather sit 
 in the clubhouse and saturate yourself with drink 
 and with the idle, parasitic thoughts of the crowd 
 there ! 
 
 "You have dropped low and lower until, every 
 thing else gone, you are now wasting the last 
 thing that belongs to you, the fundamental thing 
 in life your vitality ! 
 
 "Oh, don t try to protest! Those sacks under 
 your eyes ! Your shoulders are n t as straight 
 as they were a year ago; you don t think as 
 quickly as you did when making a pretense of 
 playing polo; your hand isn t steady for a man 
 of twenty-five. You re going; you re on the 
 toboggan slide. 
 
 "You have wasted yourself, flung yourself 
 away, and not one act or thought of your experi 
 ence has been worth the candle ! Now what 
 will you take to get out?" 
 
 The boy before him moved a slow step back 
 ward, and a flush came up over his drawn face. 
 
 "You he began. Then he stopped and 
 drew a hand across his eyes, beginning the
 
 16 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 movement slowly and ending with a savage jerk. 
 You never said a word before ! You never inti 
 mated you thought this ! You never you - 
 
 He floundered heavily under the stinging con 
 viction that of such was his only defense! 
 
 "No!" snapped his father, after waiting for 
 more to come. "I never said anything before 
 not like this. You smiled away whatever I 
 suggested. Nothing mattered nothing except 
 debauchery. Now you ve passed the limit 
 You re a common drunk!" 
 
 His voice rose high and higher; he commenced 
 to gesticulate. 
 
 "You live only to wreck yourself. Yours is 
 the fault and the blame ! 
 
 "It is natural for me to be concerned. I ve 
 hung on now too long, hoping that you would 
 right yourself and justify the hopes people have 
 had in you. I planned, years ago, to have you 
 take up my work where I must soon leave off - 
 to go on in my place, to finish my life for me as 
 I began yours for you! I ve had faith that you 
 would do this, but you won t you can t! 
 
 "That isn t all. You re holding me back. I 
 must push on now harder than ever, but with 
 the stench of your misdeeds always in my nos 
 trils it is almost an impossibility." 
 
 Danny raised his hands in a half-gesture of 
 pleading, but the old man motioned him back. 
 
 "Don t be sorry; don t try to explain. This 
 had to come. It s an accumulation of years.
 
 DENUNCIATION 17 
 
 I have no more faith in you. If I thought you 
 could ever rally I d give up everything and 
 help you, but not once in your life have you shown 
 me that you possessed one impulse to be of use." 
 
 His voice dropped with each word, and its 
 return to the cold normal sent a stiffness into the 
 boy s spine. His head went up, his chin out; 
 his hands closed slowly. 
 
 "How much money will you take to get out?" 
 
 The old man moved from behind the table 
 corner and approached Danny, walking slowly, 
 with his hands behind him. He came to a stop 
 before the boy, slowly unbuttoned his coat, reached 
 to an inner pocket, and drew out a checkbook. 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 Danny s gesture, carried out, surely would 
 have resulted in a blow strong enough to send 
 the book spinning across the room ; but he stopped 
 it halfway. 
 
 His eyes were puffed and bloodshot; his pulse 
 hammered loudly under his ears, and the rush 
 of blood made his head roar. Before him floated 
 a mist, fogging thought as it did his vision. 
 
 The boy s voice was scarcely recognizable as 
 he spoke. It was hard and cold somewhat 
 like the one which had so scourged him. 
 
 "Keep your money," he said, looking squarely 
 at his father at the cost of a peculiar, unreal 
 effort. "I ll get out and without your help. 
 Some day I ll I 11 show you what a puny 
 thing this faith of yours is!" 
 2
 
 i8 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 The elder Lenox, buttoning his coat with brisk 
 motions, merely said, "Very well." He left the 
 room. 
 
 Danny heard his footsteps cross the hall, 
 heard the big front door sigh when it closed as 
 though it rejoiced at the completion of a dis 
 tasteful task. 
 
 Then he shut his eyes and struck his thighs 
 twice with stiff forearms. He was boiling, blood 
 and brain! At first he thought it anger; perhaps 
 anger had been there, but it was not the chief 
 factor of that tumult. 
 
 It was humiliation. The horrid, unanswerable 
 truth had seared Danny s very body witness 
 the anguished wrinkles on his brow and his 
 molten consciousness could find no argument to 
 justify himself, even to act as a balm! 
 
 "He never said it before," the boy moaned, 
 and in that spoken thought was the nearest thing 
 to comfort that he could conjure. 
 
 He stood in the library a long time, gradually 
 cooling, gradually nursing the bitterness that 
 grew up in the midst of conflicting impulses. The 
 look in his eyes changed from bewilderment to a 
 glassy cynicism, and he began to walk back and 
 forth unsteadily. 
 
 He paced the long length of the room a dozen 
 times. Then, with a quickened stride, he passed 
 into the hall, crossed it, and entered the dining 
 room, the tip of his tongue caressing his lips. 
 
 On the buffet stood a decanter, a heavy affair
 
 DENUNCIATION 19 
 
 of finely executed glassworker s art. The dark 
 stuff in it extended halfway up the neck, and as 
 he reached for it Danny s lips parted. He lifted 
 the receptacle and clutched at a whisky glass that 
 stood on the same tray. He picked it up, looked 
 calculatingly at it, set it down, and picked up 
 a tumbler. 
 
 The glass stopper of the bottle thudded on 
 the mahogany; his nervous hand held the tumbler 
 under its gurgling mouth. Half full, two-thirds, 
 three-quarters, to within a finger s breadth of 
 the top he filled it. 
 
 Then, setting the decanter down, he lifted the 
 glass to look through the amber at the morning 
 light; his breath quick, his eyes glittering, Danny 
 Lenox poised. A smile played about his eager 
 lips a smile that brightened, and lingered, and 
 faded and died. 
 
 The hand holding the glass trembled, then was 
 still; trembled again, so severely that it spilled 
 some of the liquor; came gradually down from its 
 upraised position, down below his mouth, below 
 his shoulder, and waveringly sought the buffet. 
 
 As the glass settled to the firm wood Danny s 
 shoulders slacked forward and his head drooped. 
 He turned slowly from the buffet, the aroma of 
 whisky strong in his dilated nostrils. After the 
 first faltering step he faced about, gazed at his 
 reflection in the mirror, and said aloud: 
 
 "And it s not been worth the candle!" 
 
 Savagery was in his step as he entered the
 
 20 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 hall, snatched up his hat, and strode to the door. 
 As the heavy portal swung shut behind the 
 hurrying boy it sighed again, as though hope 
 lessly. The future seemed hopeless for Danny. 
 He had gone out to face a powerful foe.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A YOUNG MAN GOES WEST 
 
 FROM the upper four hundreds on Riverside 
 Drive to Broadway where the lower thirties 
 slash through is a long walk. Danny Lenox 
 walked it this June day. As he left the house 
 his stride was long and nervously eager, but 
 before he covered many blocks his gait moderated 
 and the going took hours. 
 
 Physical fatigue did not slow down his progress. 
 The demands upon his mental machinery retarded 
 his going. He needed time to think, to plan, to 
 bring order out of the chaos into which he had 
 been plunged. Danny had suddenly found that 
 many things in life are to be considered seriously. 
 An hour ago they could have been numbered on 
 his fingers; now they were legion. It was a newly 
 recognized fact, but one so suddenly obvious that 
 the tardiness of his realization became of porten 
 tous significance. 
 
 Through all the hurt and shame and rage the 
 great truth that his father had hammered home 
 became crystal clear. He had been merely a 
 waster, and a sharp bitterness was in him as he 
 strode along, hands deep in pockets. 
 
 The first flash of his resentment had given 
 birth to the childish desire to "show em," and 
 
 21
 
 22 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 as he crowded his brain against the host of 
 strange facts he found this impulse becoming 
 stronger, growing into a healthy determination 
 to adjust his standard of values so that he 
 could, even with this beginning, justify his 
 existence. 
 
 Oh, the will to do was strong in his heart, 
 but about it was a clammy, oppressive something. 
 He wondered at it then traced it back directly 
 to the place in his throat that cried out for 
 quenching. As he approached a familiar haunt 
 that urge became more insistent and the palms 
 of his hands commenced to sweat. He crossed 
 the street and made on down the other side. He 
 had wasted his ability to do, had let this desire 
 sap his will. He needed every jot of strength 
 now. He would begin at the bottom and call 
 back that frittered vitality. He shut his teeth 
 together and doggedly stuck his head forward just 
 a trifle. 
 
 The boy had no plan; there had not been time 
 to become so specific. His whole philosophy had 
 been stood on its head with bewildering sudden 
 ness. He knew, though, that the first thing 
 to do was to cut his environment, to get away, 
 off anywhere, to a place where he could build 
 anew. The idea of getting away associated it 
 self with one thing in his mind: means of trans 
 portation. So, when his eyes without conscious 
 motive stared at the poster advertising a rail 
 road system that crosses the continent, Danny
 
 A YOUNG MAN GOES WEST 23 
 
 Lenox stopped and let the crowd surge past him. 
 
 A man behind the counter approached the 
 tall, broad-shouldered chap who fumbled in his 
 pockets and dumped out their contents. He 
 looked with a whimsical smile at the stuff pro 
 duced: handkerchiefs, pocket-knife, gold pencil, 
 tobacco pouch, watch, cigarette case, a couple of 
 hat checks, opened letters, and all through it 
 money money in bills and in coins. 
 
 The operation completed, Danny commenced 
 picking out the money. He tossed the crumpled 
 bills together in a pile and stacked the coins. 
 That done, he swept up the rest of his property, 
 crammed it into his coat pockets, and commenced 
 smoothing the bills. 
 
 The other man, meanwhile, stood and smiled. 
 
 "Cleaning up a bit?" he asked. 
 
 Danny raised his eyes. 
 
 "That s the idea," he said soberly. "To 
 clean up a bit." 
 
 The seriousness of his own voice actually 
 startled him. 
 
 "How far will that take me over your line?" 
 he asked, indicating the money. 
 
 The man stared hard; then smiled. 
 
 "You mean you want that much worth of 
 ticket?" 
 
 "Yes, ticket and berth upper berth. Less 
 this." He took out a ten-dollar bill. "I ll eat 
 on the way," he explained gravely.
 
 24 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 The other counted the bills, turning them over 
 with the eraser end of his pencil, then counted 
 the silver and made a note of the total. 
 
 "Which way by St. Louis or Chicago?" 
 he asked. "We can send you through either 
 place." 
 
 Danny lifted a dollar from the stack on the 
 counter and nipped it in the air. Catching it, 
 he looked at the side which came up and said: 
 
 "St. Louis." 
 
 Again the clerk calculated, referring to time 
 tables and a map. 
 
 "Denver," he muttered, as though to himself. 
 Then to Danny : Out of Denver I can give you 
 the Union Pacific, Denver and Rio Grande, or 
 Santa Fe." 
 
 "The middle course." 
 
 "All right D. and R.G." 
 
 Then more referring to maps and time-tables, 
 more figuring, more glances at the pile of money. 
 
 Let s see that will land you at at 
 as he ran his finger down the tabulation "at 
 Colt, Colorado." 
 
 Danny moved along the counter to the glass- 
 covered map, a new interest in his face. 
 
 "Where s that Colt, Colorado?" he asked, 
 leaning his elbows on the counter. 
 
 "See?" The other indicated with his pencil. 
 
 "You go south from Denver to Colorado 
 Springs; then on through Pueblo, through the 
 Royal Gorge here, and right in here " he put
 
 A YOUNG MAN GOES WEST 25 
 
 the lead point down on the red line of the rail 
 road and Danny s head came close to his "is 
 where you get off." 
 
 The boy gazed lingeringly at the white dot 
 in the red line and then looked up to meet the 
 other s smile. 
 
 "Mountains and more mountains," he said 
 with no hint of lightness. "That s a long way 
 from this place." 
 
 He gazed out on to flowing Broadway with a 
 look somewhat akin to pleading, and heard the 
 man mutter: "Yes, beyond easy walking from 
 downtown, at least." 
 
 Danny straightened and sighed. That much 
 was settled. He was going to Colt, Colorado. 
 He looked back at the map again, possessed with 
 an uneasy foreboding. 
 
 Colt, Colorado! 
 
 "Well, when can I leave?" he asked, as he 
 commenced putting his property back into the 
 proper pockets. 
 
 "You can scarcely catch the next train," 
 said the clerk, glancing at the clock, "because 
 it leaves the Grand Central in nineteen min 
 
 "Yes, I can!" broke in Danny. "Get me a 
 ticket and I ll get there!" Then, as though to 
 himself, but still in the normal speaking tone: 
 "I m through putting things off." 
 
 Eighteen and three-quarters minutes later a 
 tall, young man trotted through the Grand 
 Central train shed to where his Pullman waited.
 
 26 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 The porter looked at the length of the ticket 
 Danny handed the conductor. 
 
 "Ain t y ll carryin nothin , boss?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, George," Danny muttered as he passed 
 into the vestibule, "but nothing you can help 
 me with." 
 
 With the grinding of the car wheels under 
 him Danny s mind commenced going round and 
 round his knotty problem. His plan had called 
 for nothing more than a start. And now- 
 Colt, Colorado! 
 
 Behind him he was leaving everything of which 
 he was certain, sordid though it might be. He 
 was going into the unknown, ignorant of his own 
 capabilities, realizing only that he was weak. 
 He thought of those burned bridges, of the uncer 
 tainty that lay ahead, of the tumbling of the 
 old temple about his ears 
 
 And doubt came up from the ache in his throat, 
 from the call of his nerves. He had not had a 
 drink since early last evening. He needed 
 No! That was the last thing he needed. 
 
 He sat erect in his seat with the determination 
 and strove to fight down the demands which his 
 wasting had made so steely strong. He felt 
 for his cigarette case. It was empty, but the 
 tobacco pouch held a supply, and as he walked 
 toward the smoking compartment he dusted 
 some of the weed into a rice paper. 
 
 Danny pushed aside the curtain to enter, and 
 a fat man bumped him with a violent jolt.
 
 A YOUNG MAN GOES WEST 27 
 
 "Oh, excuse me!" he begged, backing off. 
 "Sorry. I ll be back in a jiffy with more sub 
 stantial apologies." 
 
 Three others in the compartment made room 
 for Danny, who lighted his cigarette and drew 
 a great gasp of smoke into his lungs. 
 
 In a moment the fat man was back, his eyes 
 dancing. In his hand was a silver whisky flask. 
 
 "Now if you don t say this is the finest booze 
 ever turned out of a gin mill, I ll go plumb!" he 
 declared. "Drink, friend, drink!" 
 
 He handed the flask to one of the others. 
 
 "Here s to you!" the man saluted, raising the 
 flask high and then putting its neck to his mouth. 
 
 Danny s tongue went again to his lips; his 
 breath quickened and the light in his eyes became 
 a greedy glitter. He could hear the gurgle of 
 the liquid ; his own throat responded in movement 
 as he watched the swallowing. He squeezed his 
 cigarette until the thin paper burst and the 
 tobacco sifted out. 
 
 "Great!" declared the man with a sigh as he 
 lowered the flask. Great ! 
 
 He smacked his lips and winked. "Ah! No 
 whisky s bad, but this s better n most of it!" 
 
 Then, extending the flask toward Danny, he 
 said: "Try it, brother; it s good for a soul." 
 
 But Danny, rising to his feet with a suddenness 
 that was almost a spring, strode past him to the 
 door. His face suddenly had become tight and 
 white and harried. He paused at the entry,
 
 28 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 holding the curtain aside, and turned to see the 
 other, flask still extended, staring at him in bewil 
 derment. 
 
 "I m not drinking, you know," said Danny 
 weakly, "not drinking." 
 
 Then he went out, and the fat man who had 
 produced the liquor said soberly: 
 
 "Not drinking, and havin a time staying off 
 it. But say ain t that some booze?" 
 
 Long disuse of the power to plan concretely, 
 to think seriously of serious facts, had left it 
 weak. Danny strove to route himself through 
 to that new life he knew was so necessary, but 
 he could not call back the ability of tense thinking 
 with a word or a wish. And while he tried for 
 that end the boy commenced to realize that 
 perhaps he had not so far to seek for his fresh 
 start. Perhaps it was not waiting for him in 
 Colt, Colorado. Perhaps it was right here in 
 his throat, in his nerves. Perhaps the creature 
 in him was not a thing to be cleared away before 
 he could begin to fight perhaps it was the 
 proper object at which to direct his whole attack. 
 
 Enforced idleness was an added handicap. 
 Physical activity would have made the beginning 
 much easier, for before he realized it Danny was 
 in the thick of battle. A system that had been 
 stimulated by poison in increasing proportion 
 to its years almost from boyhood began to make 
 unequivocal demands for the stuff that had held
 
 A YOUNG MAN GOES WEST 29 
 
 it to high pitch. Tantalizingly at first, with the 
 thirsting throat and jumping muscles; then. with 
 thundering assertions that warped the vision 
 and numbed the intellect and toyed with the 
 will. He gave up trying to think ahead. His 
 entire mental force went into the grapple with 
 that desire. Where he had thought to find pos 
 sible distress in the land out yonder, it had come 
 to meet him and of a sort more fearful, more 
 tremendous, than any which he had been able 
 to conceive. 
 
 Through the rise of that fevered fighting the 
 words of his father rang constantly in Danny s 
 mind. 
 
 "He was right right, right!" the boy de 
 clared over and over. "It was brutal; but he 
 was right! I ve wasted, I ve gone the limit. 
 And he doesn t think I can come back!" 
 
 While faith would have been as a helping hand 
 stretched down to pull him upward, the denial 
 of it served as a stinging goad, driving him on. 
 A chord deep within him had been touched by 
 the raining blows from his father, and the vibra 
 tions of that chord became quicker and sharper 
 as the battle crescendoed. The unbelief had 
 stirred a retaliating determination. 
 
 It was this that sent a growl of defiance into 
 Danny s throat at sight of a whisky sign; it was 
 the cause of his cursing when, walking up and 
 down a station platform at a stop, he saw men 
 in the buffet car lift glasses to their lips and smile
 
 30 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 at one other. It was this that drew him away 
 from an unfinished meal in the diner when a 
 man across the table ordered liquor and Danny s 
 eyes ached for the sight of it, his nostrils begged 
 for the smell. 
 
 So on every hand came the suggestions that 
 made demands upon his resistance, that made 
 the weakness gnaw the harder at his will. But 
 he fought against it, on and on across a country, 
 out into the mountains, toward the end of his 
 ride. 
 
 The unfolding of the marvels of a continent s 
 vitals had a peculiar effect on Danny. 
 
 Before that trip he had held the vaguest notions 
 of the West, but with the realization of the 
 grandeur of it all he was torn between a glorified 
 inspiration and a suffocating sense of his own 
 smallness. 
 
 He had known only cities, and cities are, by 
 comparison, such puny things. They froth and 
 ferment and clatter and clang and boast, and yet 
 they are merely flecks, despoiled spots, on an 
 expanse so vast that it seems utterly unconscious 
 of their presence. The boy realized this as the 
 big cities were left behind, as the stretches be 
 tween stations became longer, the towns more 
 flimsy, newer. A species of terror filled him as 
 he gazed moodily from his Pullman window out 
 across that panorama to the north. Why, he 
 could see as far as to the Canadian boundary, it
 
 A YOUNG MAN GOES WEST 31 
 
 seemed! On and on, rising gently, ever flowing, 
 never ending, went the prairie. Here and there 
 a fence ; now a string of telephone poles marching 
 out sturdily, bravely, to reduce distance by count 
 less hours. There a house, alone, unshaded, 
 with a woman standing in the door watching 
 his speeding train. Yonder a man shacking along 
 on a rough little horse, head down, listless a 
 crawling jot under that endless sky. 
 
 Even his train, thing of steel and steam, was 
 such a paltry particle, screaming to a heaven 
 that heard not, driving at a distance that cared not. 
 
 Then the mountains! 
 
 Danny awoke in Denver, to step from his car 
 and look at noble Evans raising its craggy, 
 hoary head into the salmon pink of morning, 
 defiant, ignoring men who fussed and puttered 
 down there in its eternal shadow; at Long s Peak, 
 piercing the sky as though striving to be away 
 from humans; at Pike, shimmering proudly 
 through its sixty miles of crystal distance, taking 
 a heavy, giant delight in watching beings worry 
 their way through its hundred-mile dooryard. 
 
 Then along the foothills the train tore with 
 the might of which men are so proud; yet it only 
 crawled past those mountains. 
 
 Stock country now, more and more cattle in 
 sight. Blase, white-faced Herefords lifted their 
 heads momentarily toward the cars. They heeded 
 little more than did the mountains. 
 
 Then, to the right and into the ranges, twisting,
 
 32 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 turning, climbing, sliding througn the narrow 
 defiles at the grace of the towering heights which 
 so alive did they seem could have whiffed 
 out that thing, those lives, by a mere stirring 
 on their complacent bases. 
 
 And Danny commenced L o draw parallels. 
 Just as his life had been axdficial, so had his 
 environment. Manhattan and this ! Its com 
 plaining cars, its popping pavements, its echoing 
 buildings it had all seemed so big, so great, so 
 mighty! And yet it was merely a little mud 
 village, the work of a prattling child, as compared 
 with this country. The subway, backed by its 
 millions in bonds, planned by constructive genius, 
 executed by master minds, a thing to write into 
 the history of all time, was a mole-passage com 
 pared to this gorge! The Woolworth, labor of 
 years, girders mined on Superior, stones quarried 
 elsewhere, concrete, tiling, cables, woods, all 
 manner of fixtures contributed by continents; 
 donkey engines puffing, petulant whistles scream 
 ing, men of a dozen tongues crawling and worming 
 and dying for it; a nation standing agape at its 
 ivory and gold attainments! And what was it? 
 Put it down here and it would be lost in the rolling 
 of the prairie as it swelled upward to meet honest 
 heights ! 
 
 No wonder Danny Lenox felt inconsequential. 
 And yet he sensed a friendly something in that 
 grandeur, an element which reached down for 
 him like a helping hand and offered to draw him
 
 A YOUNG MAN GOES WEST 33 
 
 out of his cramped, mean little life and put him 
 up with stalwart men. 
 
 "If this rotten carcass of mine, with its dry 
 throat and fluttering hands, will only stick by me 
 I ll show em yet!" he declared, and held up one 
 of those hands to watch its uncertainty. 
 
 And in the midst of one of those bitter, griping 
 struggles to keep his vagrant mind from running 
 into vinous paths, the brakes clamped down and 
 the porter, superlatively polite, announced: 
 
 "This is Colt, sah." 
 
 A quick interest fired Danny. He hurried to 
 the platform, stood on the lowest step, and 
 watched the little clump of buildings swell to 
 natural size. He reached into his pocket, grasped 
 the few coins remaining there, and gave them to 
 the colored boy. 
 
 The train stopped with a jolt, and Danny 
 stepped off. The conductor, who had dropped 
 off from the first coach as it passed the station, 
 ran out of the depot, waved his hand, and the 
 grind of wheels commenced again. 
 
 As the last car passed, Danny Lenox stared at 
 it, and for many minutes his gaze followed its 
 departure. After it had disappeared around the 
 distant curve he retained a picture of the white- 
 clad servant, leaning forward and pouring some 
 liquid from a bottle. 
 
 The roar of the cars died to a murmur, a mut 
 tering, and was swallowed in the canon. The 
 sun beat down on the squat, green depot and 
 
 3
 
 34 
 
 cinder platform, sending the quivering heat rays 
 back to distort the outlines of objects. Every 
 where was a white, blinding light. 
 
 From behind came a sound of waters, and 
 Danny turned about to gaze far down into a ragged 
 gorge where a river tumbled and protested through 
 the rocky way. 
 
 Beyond the stream was stretching mesa, quiet 
 and flat and smooth looking in the crystal dis 
 tance, dotted with pine, shimmering under the 
 heat. 
 
 For five minutes he stared almost stupidly at 
 that grand sweep of still country, failing to 
 comprehend the fact of arrival. Then he walked 
 to the end of the little station and gazed up at 
 the town. 
 
 A dozen buildings with false fronts, some 
 painted, some without pretense of such nicety, 
 faced one another across a thoroughfare four 
 times as wide as Broadway. Sleeping saddle 
 ponies stood, each with a hip slumped and nose 
 low to the yellow ground. A scattering of houses 
 with their clumps of outbuildings and fenced 
 areas straggled off behind the stores. 
 
 Scraggly, struggling pine stood here and there 
 among the rocks, but shade was scant. 
 
 Behind the station were acres of stock pens, 
 with high and unpainted fences. Desolation! 
 Desolation supreme! 
 
 Danny felt a sickening, a revulsion. But lo! 
 his eyes, lifting blindly for hope, for comfort,
 
 A YOUNG MAN GOES WEST 35 
 
 found the thing which raised him above the 
 depression of the rude little town. 
 
 A string of cliffs, ranging in color from the 
 bright pink of the nearest to the soft violet of 
 those which might be ten or a hundred miles 
 away, stretched in mighty columns, their varied 
 pigments telling of the magnificent distances 
 to which they reached. All were plastered up 
 against a sky so blue that it seemed thick, and 
 as though the color must soon begin to drip. 
 Glory! The majesty of the earth s ragged crust, 
 the exquisite harmony of that glorified gaudiness ! 
 Danny pulled a great chestful of the rare air 
 into his lungs. He threw up his arms in a little 
 gesture that indicated an acceptance of things 
 as they were, and in his mind flickered the ques 
 tion: 
 
 "The beginning or the end?"
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 "I VE DONE MY PICKIN" 
 
 THEN he felt his gaze drawn away from 
 those vague, alluring distances. It was one 
 of those pulls which psychologists have failed 
 to explain with any great clarity; but every hu 
 man being recognizes them. Danny followed 
 the impulse. 
 
 He had not seen the figure squatting there on 
 his spurs at the shady end of the little depot, for 
 he had been looking off to the north. But as 
 he yielded to the urge he knew its source in 
 those other eyes. 
 
 The figure was that of a little man, and his 
 doubled-up position seemed to make his frame 
 even more diminutive. The huge white angora 
 chaps, the scarlet kerchief about his neck and 
 against the blue of his shirt, the immense spread 
 of his hat, his drooping gray mustache, all em 
 phasized his littleness. 
 
 Yet Danny saw none of those things. He 
 looked straight into the blue eyes squinting up 
 at him eyes deep and comprehensive, set in 
 a copper-colored face, surrounded by an intricate 
 design of wrinkles in the clear skin; eyes that had 
 looked at incalculably distant horizons for decades, 
 and had learned to look at men with that same 
 
 36
 
 "I VE DONE MY PICKIN" 37 
 
 long-range gaze. A light was in those eyes 
 a warm, kindly, human light that attracted 
 and held and created an atmosphere of stability; 
 it seemed as though that light were tangible, 
 something to which a man could tie so 
 prompt is the flash from man to man that 
 makes for friendship and devotion; and to 
 Danny there came a sudden comfort. That 
 was why he did not notice the other things 
 about the little man. That was why he wanted 
 to talk. 
 
 "Good morning," he said. 
 
 " Mornin ." 
 
 Then a pause, while their eyes still held one 
 another. 
 
 After a moment Danny looked away. He 
 had a stabbing idea that the little man was read 
 ing him with that penetrating gaze. The look 
 was kindly, sincere, yet and perhaps because 
 of it the boy cringed. 
 
 The man stirred and spat. 
 
 "To be sure, things kind of quiet down when 
 th train quits this place," he remarked with a 
 nasal twang. 
 
 "Yes, indeed. I I don t suppose much 
 happens here except trains." 
 
 Danny smiled feebly. He took his hat off 
 and wiped the brow on which beads of sweat 
 glistened against the pallor. The little man 
 still looked up, and as he watched Danny s weak, 
 uncertain movements the light in his eyes changed.
 
 38 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 The smile left them, but the kindliness did not 
 go; a concern came, and a tenderness. 
 
 Still, when he spoke his nasal voice was as it 
 had been before. 
 
 "Take it you just got in?" 
 
 "Yes just now. 
 
 Then another silence, while Danny hung his head 
 as he felt those searching eyes boring through him. 
 
 "Long trip this hot weather, ain t it?" 
 
 "Yes, very long." 
 
 Danny looked quickly at his interrogator then 
 and asked: 
 
 "How did you know?" 
 
 "Didn t. Just guessed." He chuckled. 
 "Ever think how many men s been thought 
 wise just guessin ?" 
 
 But Danny caught the evasion. He looked 
 down at his clothes, wrinkled, but still crying 
 aloud of his East. 
 
 "I suppose," he muttered, "I do look different 
 am different." 
 
 And the association of ideas took him across 
 the stretches to Manhattan, to the life that was, 
 to- 
 
 He caught his breath sharply. The call of his 
 throat was maddening! 
 
 The little man had risen and, with thumbs 
 hooked in his chap belt, stumped on his high 
 boot heels close to Danny. A curious expression 
 softened the lines of his face, making it seem 
 queerly out of harmony with his garb.
 
 "I VE DONE MY PICKIN" 3 9 
 
 "You lookin for somebody?" he ventured, 
 and the nasal quality of his voice seemed to be 
 mellowed, seemed to invite, to compel confidence. 
 
 "Looking for somebody?" 
 
 Danny, only half consciously, repeated the 
 query. Then, throwing his head back and follow 
 ing that range of flat tops off to the north, he 
 muttered : Yes, looking for somebody look 
 ing for myself!" 
 
 The other shifted his chew, reached for his hat 
 brim, and pulled it lower. 
 
 "No baggage?" he asked. "To be sure, an 
 ain t you got no grip?" 
 
 Danny looked at him quickly again, and, 
 meeting the honest query in that face, seeing 
 the spark there which meant sympathy and 
 understanding qualities which human beings 
 can recognize anywhere and to which they respond 
 unhesitatingly he smiled wanly. 
 
 "Grip?" he asked, and paused. "Grip? Not 
 the sign of one ! That s what I m here for in 
 Colt, Colorado to get a fresh grip!" After a 
 moment he extended an indicating finger and 
 asked: "Is that all of Colt Colt, Colorado?" 
 
 The old man did not follow the pointing farther 
 than the uncertain finger. And when he answered 
 his eyes had changed again, changed to searching, 
 ferreting points that ran over every puff and seam 
 and hollow in young Danny s face. Then the 
 older man set his chin firmly, as though a grim 
 conclusion had been reached.
 
 40 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 "That s th total o Colt," he answered. 
 "It ain t exactly astoundin , is it?" 
 
 Danny shook his head slowly. 
 
 "Not exactly," he agreed. "Let s go up and 
 look it over." 
 
 An amused curiosity drove out some of the 
 misery that had been in his pallid countenance. 
 
 "Sure, come along an inspect our metropolis!" 
 invited the little man, and they struck off through 
 the sagebrush. 
 
 Danny s long, free stride made the other hustle, 
 and the contrast between them was great; the 
 one tall and broad and athletic of poise in spite 
 of the shoulders, which were not back to their 
 full degree of squareness; the other, short and 
 bowlegged and muscle-bound by years in the 
 saddle, taking two steps to his pacemaker s one. 
 
 They attracted attention as they neared the 
 store buildings. A man in riding garb came to 
 the door of a primitive clothing establishment, 
 looked, stepped back, and emerged once more. 
 A moment later two others joined him, and they 
 stared frankly at Danny and his companion. 
 
 A man on horseback swung out into the broad 
 street, and as he rode away from them turned in 
 his saddle to look at the pair. A woman ran 
 down the post-office steps and halted her hurried 
 progress for a lingering glance at Danny. The 
 boy noticed it all. 
 
 "I m attracting attention," he said to the 
 little man, and smiled as though embarrassed.
 
 "I VE DONE MY PICKIN" 41 
 
 "Aw, these squashies ain t got no manners," 
 the other apologized. "They set out in these 
 dog-gone hills an look down badger holes so much 
 that they git loco when somethin new comes 
 along." 
 
 Then he stopped, for the tall stranger was not 
 beside him. He looked around. His companion 
 was standing still, lips parted, fingers working 
 slowly. He was gazing at the front of the Mon 
 arch saloon. 
 
 From within came the sound of an upraised 
 voice. Then another in laughter. The swinging 
 doors opened, and a man lounged out. After 
 him, ever so faint, but insidiously strong and 
 compelling, came an odor! 
 
 For a moment, a decade, a generation time 
 does not matter when a man chokes back tempta 
 tion to save himself Danny stood in the yellow 
 street, under the white sunlight, making his feet 
 remain where they were. They would have 
 hurried him on, compelling him to follow those 
 fumes to their source, to push aside the flapping 
 doors and take his throat to the place where that 
 burning spot could be cooled. 
 
 In Colt, Colorado! It had been before him 
 all the way, and now he could not be quit of its 
 physical presence! But though his will wavered, 
 it held his feet where they were, because it was 
 stiffened by the dawning knowledge that his 
 battle had only commenced ; that the struggle 
 during the long journey across country had been
 
 42 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 only preliminary maneuvering, only the mobilizing 
 of his forces. 
 
 When he moved to face the little Westerner 
 his eyes were filmed. The other drew a hand 
 across his mouth calculatingly and jerked his 
 hat-brim still lower. 
 
 "As I was sayin ," he went on a bit awkwardly 
 as they resumed their walk, "these folks ain t 
 got much manners, but they re good hearted." 
 
 Danny did not hear. He was casting around 
 for more resources, more reserves to reinforce 
 his front in the battle that was raging. 
 
 He looked about quickly, a bit wildly, searching 
 for some object, some idea to engage his thoughts, 
 to divert his mind from that insistent calling. 
 His eyes spelled out the heralding of food stuffs. 
 The sun stood high. It was time. It was not 
 an excuse; it was a Godsend! 
 
 Let s eat, he said abruptly. I m starving. 
 
 "That s a sound idee," agreed the other, and 
 they turned toward the restaurant, a flat-roofed 
 building of rough lumber. A baby was playing 
 in the dirt before the door and a chained coyote 
 puppy watched them from the shelter of a corner. 
 
 On the threshold Danny stopped, confusion 
 possessing him He stammered a moment, tried 
 to smile, and then muttered: 
 
 "Guess I d better wait a little. It is n t neces 
 sary to eat right away, anyhow." 
 
 He stepped back from the doorway with its 
 smells of cooking food and the other followed him
 
 "I VE DONE MY PICKIN" 43 
 
 quickly, blue eyes under brows that now drew 
 down in determination. 
 
 "Look here, boy," the man said, stepping close, 
 "you was crazy for chuck a minute ago, an now 
 you make a bad excuse not to eat. To be sure, 
 it ain t none of my business, but I m old enough 
 to be your daddy; I ain t afraid to ask you what s 
 wrong. Why don t you want to eat?" 
 
 The sincerity of it, the unalloyed interest that 
 precluded any hint of prying or sordid curiosity, 
 went home to Danny and he said simply : 
 
 "I m broke." 
 
 "You didn t need to tell me. I knowed it. 
 I ain t, though. You eat with me." 
 
 "I can t! I can t do that!" 
 
 "Expect to starve, I s pose?" 
 
 "No not exactly. That is," he hastened 
 to say, "not if I m worth my keep. I came out 
 here to to get busy and take care of myself. 
 I 11 strike a job of some sort anything, I don t 
 care what it is or where it takes me. When 
 I m ready to work, I 11 eat. I ought to get work 
 right away, oughtn t I?" 
 
 In his voice was a sudden pleading born of the 
 fear awakened by his realization of absolute 
 helplessness, as though he looked for assurance 
 to strengthen his feeble hopes, but hardly dared 
 expect it. The little man looked him over 
 gravely from the heels of his flat shoes to the 
 crown of his rakishly soft hat. He pushed his 
 Stetson far back on his gray hair.
 
 44 " I CONQUERED" 
 
 "To be sure, and I guess you won t have to 
 look far for work," he said. "I ve been combin 
 this town dry for a hand all day. If you d like 
 to take a chance workin for me I d be mighty 
 glad to take you on right off. I m only waitin 
 to find a man can t go home till I do. Con 
 sider yourself hired!" 
 
 He turned on his heel and started off. But 
 Danny did not follow. He felt distrust; he 
 thought the kindness of the other was going too 
 far; he suspected charity. 
 
 "Come on!" the man snapped, turning to look 
 at the loitering Danny. "Have I got to rope 
 an drag you to grub?" 
 
 "But you see it s this way," the boy 
 stammered. "Do you really want me? Can I 
 do your work? How do you know I m worth 
 even a meal?" 
 
 A slow grin spread over the Westerner s 
 countenance. 
 
 "Friend,* he drawled in his high, nasal tone, 
 "it s a pretty poor polecat of a man who ain t 
 worth a meal; an it s a pretty poor specimen 
 who goes hirin without makin up his mind 
 sufficient. They ain t many jobs in this country, 
 but just now they s fewer men. We ve got used 
 to bein careful pickers. I ve done my pickin . 
 Come on." 
 
 Only half willingly the boy followed. 
 
 They walked through the restaurant, the old 
 man saluting the lone individual who presided
 
 "I VE DONE MY PICKIN" 45 
 
 over the place, which was kitchen and dining 
 room in one. 
 
 "Hello, Jed," the proprietor cried, waving a 
 fork. "How s things?" 
 
 "Finer n frog s hair!" the other replied, 
 shoving open the broken screen door at the rear. 
 
 "This is where we abolute," he remarked, 
 indicating the dirty wash-basin, the soap which 
 needed a boiling out itself, and the discouraged, 
 service-stiffened towel. 
 
 Danny looked dubiously at the array. He 
 had never seen as bad, to say nothing of having 
 used such; but the man with him sloshed water 
 into the basin from a tin pail and said: 
 
 "You re next, son, you re next." 
 
 And Danny plunged his bared wrists into the 
 water. It was good, it was cool; and he forgot 
 the dirty receptacle in the satisfaction that came 
 with drenching his aching head and dashing the 
 cooling water over his throat. The other stood 
 and watched, his eyes busy, his face reflecting 
 the rapid workings of his mind. 
 
 They settled in hard-bottomed, uncertain- 
 legged chairs, and Jed whoever he might be, 
 Danny thought, as he remembered the name 
 gave their order to the man, who was, among 
 other things, waiter and cook. 
 
 "Make it two sirloins," he said; "one well 
 done an one " He lifted his eyebrows at 
 Danny. 
 
 "Rare," the boy said.
 
 4 6 _! CONQUERED" 
 
 "An some light bread an a pie," concluded 
 the employer- host. 
 
 Danny saw that the cook wore a scarf around 
 his neck and down his back, knotted in three 
 places. When he moved on the floor it was 
 evident that he wore riding boots. On his 
 wrists were the leather cuffs of the cowboy. 
 
 Danny smiled. A far cry, indeed, this res 
 taurant in Colt, Colorado, from his old haunts 
 along the dark thoroughfare that is misnamed a 
 lighted way! The other was talking: "We ll 
 leave soon s we re through an make it on up 
 th road to-night. It ll take us four days to 
 get to th ranch, probably, an we might s well 
 commence. Can you ride?" 
 
 Danny checked a short affirmative answer on 
 his lips. 
 
 "I ve ridden considerably," he said. "You 
 people wouldn t call it riding, though. You ll 
 have to teach me." 
 
 "Well, that s a good beginnin . To be sure 
 it is. Them as has opinions is mighty hard to 
 teach cause opinions is like as not to be dead 
 wrong." 
 
 He smeared butter on a piece of bread and 
 poked it into his mouth. Then: 
 
 I brought out my last hand I come with 
 him, I mean. Th sheriff brought him. His 
 saddle an bed s over to th stable. You can use 
 em." 
 
 "Sheriff?" asked Danny. "Get into trouble?"
 
 "I VE DONE MY PICKIN" 47 
 
 "Oh, a little. He s a good boy, mostly 
 except when he gets drinkin ." 
 
 Danny shoved his thumb down against the 
 tines of the steel fork he held until they bent 
 to uselessness.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE TROUBLE HUNTER 
 
 KNEE to knee, at a shacking trot, they rode 
 out into the glory of big places, two horses 
 before them bearing the light burden of a West 
 erner s bed. 
 
 "My name s Jed Avery," the little man broke 
 in when they w r ere clear of the town. " I m located 
 over on Red Mountain a hundred an thirty 
 miles from here. I run horses th VB stuff. 
 They call me Jed or Old VB ; mostly Jed now, 
 cause th fellers who used to ca 1 ] me Old VB has 
 got past talkin so you can hear em, or else has 
 moved out. Names don t matter, anyhow. It 
 ain t a big outfit, but I have a good time runnin 
 it. Top hands get thirty-five a month." 
 
 Danny felt that there was occasion for answer 
 of some sort. In those few words Avery had 
 given him as much information as he could need, 
 and had given it freely, not as though he expected 
 to open a way for the satisfaction of any curiosity. 
 He wanted to forget the past, to leave it entirely 
 behind him; did not want so much as a remnant 
 to cling to him in this new life. Still, he did not 
 deem it quite courteous to let the volunteered 
 information come to him and respond with 
 merely an acknowledgment. 
 
 4 8
 
 THE TROUBLE HUNTER 49 
 
 He cleared his throat. "I m from Riverside 
 Drive, New York City," he said grimly. "Names 
 don t matter. I don t know how to do a thing 
 except waste time and strength. If you ll 
 give me a chance, I ll get to be a top hand." 
 
 An interval of silence followed. 
 
 "I never heard of th street you mention. I 
 know New York s on th other slope an consid 
 erable different from this here country. Gettin 
 to be a top hand s mostly in makin up your 
 mind just like gettin anywhere else." 
 
 Then more wordless travel. Behind them Colt 
 dwindled to a bright blotch. The road ran close 
 against the hills, which rose abruptly and in 
 scarred beauty. The way was ever upward, 
 and as they progressed more of the country 
 beyond the river spread out to their view, mesas 
 and mountains stretching away to infinite dis 
 tance, it seemed. 
 
 Even back of the sounds of their travel the 
 magnificent silence impressed itself. It was weird 
 to Danny Lenox, unlike anything his traffic- 
 hardened ears had ever experienced, and it made 
 him uneasy it, and the ache in his throat. 
 
 That ache seemed to be the last real thing left 
 about him, anyhow. Events had come with 
 such unreasonable rapidity in those last few days 
 that his harassed mind could not properly arrange 
 the impressions. Here he w^as, hired out to do 
 he knew not what, starting a journey that would 
 take him a hundred and thirty miles from a
 
 5 o "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 place called Colt, in the state of Colorado, through 
 a country as unknown to him as the regions of 
 mythology, beside a man whose like he had never 
 seen before, traveling in a fashion that on his 
 native Manhattan had worn itself to disuse two 
 generations ago! 
 
 Out of the whimsical reverie he came with a 
 jolt. Following the twisting road, coming toward 
 them at good speed, was the last thing he would 
 have associated with this place an automobile. 
 He reined his horse out of the path, saw the full- 
 figured driver throw up his arm in salutation to 
 Jed, and heard Jed shout an answering greeting. 
 The driver looked keenly at Danny as he passed, 
 and touched his broad hat. 
 
 "Who was that?" the boy asked, as he again 
 fell in beside his companion. 
 
 "That s Bob Thorpe," the other explained. 
 "He s th biggest owner in this part of Colorado 
 mebby in th whole state. Cattle. S Bar S 
 mostly, but he owns a lot of brands." 
 
 "Can he get around through these mountains 
 in a car?" 
 
 "He seems to. An his daughter! My! To 
 be sure, she d drive that dog-gone bus right up 
 th side of that cliff! You ll see for yourself. 
 She ll be home fore long college East some- 
 wheres." 
 
 The boy looked at him questioningly but said 
 nothing. College East home fore long - 
 Might it not form a link between this new and
 
 THE TROUBLE HUNTER 51 
 
 that old a peculiar sort of link as peculiar 
 as this sudden, unwarranted interest in this 
 girl? 
 
 Through the long afternoon Danny eagerly 
 awaited the coming of more events, more distrac 
 tions. When they came such as informative 
 bursts from Jed or the passing of the automobile 
 he forgot for the brief passage of time the 
 throb in his throat, that wailing of the creature 
 in him. But when the two rode on at the sham 
 bling trot, with the silence and the immense 
 grandeur all about them, the demands of his 
 appetite were made anew, intensified perhaps 
 by a feeling of his own inconsequence, by the 
 knowledge that should he fail once in standing 
 off those assaults it would mean only another 
 beginning, and harder by far than this one he 
 was experiencing. 
 
 Every hour of sober reflection, of sordid strug 
 gle, added to his estimate of the strength of that 
 self he must subdue. He was going away into 
 the waste places, and a sneaking fear of being 
 removed from the stuff that had kept him keyed 
 commenced to grow, adding to the fleshly wants. 
 
 If he should be whipped and a surrender be 
 forced? What then? He realized that that 
 doubting was cowardice. He had come out here 
 to have freedom, a new beginning, and now he 
 found himself begging for a way back should the 
 opposition be too great. It was sheer weakness! 
 
 Cautiously Jed Avery had watched Danny s
 
 52 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 face, and when he saw anxiety show there as 
 doubt rose, he broke into words: 
 
 "Yes, sir, Charley was sure a good boy, but 
 th booze got him." 
 
 He looked down at his horse s withers so he 
 could not see the start this assertion gave Danny. 
 
 "He didn t want to be bad, but it s so easy 
 to let go. To be sure, it is. Anyhow, Charley 
 never had a chance, never a look-in. He was 
 good hearted an meant well but he did n t 
 have th backbone." 
 
 And Danny found that a rage commenced to 
 rise within him, a rage which drove back those 
 queries that had made him weak. 
 
 Day waned. The sun slid down oehind the 
 string of cliffs which stretched on before them 
 at their left. Distances took on their purple 
 veils, a canopy of virgin silver spread above the 
 earth, and the stillness became more intense. 
 
 "Right on here a bit now we ll stop," Jed 
 said. "This s th Anchor Ranch. They re 
 hayin , an full up. We ll get somethin to eat, 
 though, an feed for th ponies. Then we ll sleep 
 on th ground. Ever do it?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Well, you ve got somethin comin , then. 
 With a sky for a roof a man gets close to whatever 
 he calls his God an to himself. Some fellers 
 out here never seem to see th point. Funny. 
 I been sleepin out, off an on, for longer than I 
 like to think about an they s a feelin about
 
 THE TROUBLE HUNTER 53 
 
 it that don t come from nothin else in th world." 
 
 "You think it s a good thing, then, for a man 
 to get close to himself?" 
 
 "To be sure I do." 
 
 What if he s trying to get away from himself ? 
 
 Jed tugged at his mustache while the horses 
 took a dozen strides. Then he said: 
 
 "That ain t right. When a man thinks he 
 wants to get away from himself, that s th coyote 
 in him talkin . Then he wants to get closer n 
 ever; get down close an fight again that streak 
 what s come into him an got around his heart. 
 Wants to get down an fight like sin!" 
 
 He whispered the last words. Then, before 
 Danny could form an answer, he said, a trifle 
 gruffly : 
 
 "Open th gate. I ll ride on an turn th 
 horses back." 
 
 They entered the inclosure and rode on toward 
 a clump of buildings a half-mile back from the 
 road. 
 
 Off to their right ran a strip of flat, cleared land. 
 It was dotted with new haystacks, and beyond 
 them they could see waving grass that remained 
 to be cut. At the corral the two dismounted, 
 Danny stiffly and with necessary deliberation. 
 As they commenced unsaddling, a trio of hatless 
 men, bearing evidences of a strenuous day s labor, 
 came from the door of one of the log houses to 
 talk with Jed. That is, they came ostensibly 
 to talk with Jed; in reality, they came to look at
 
 54 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 the Easterner wno fumbled awkwardly with his 
 cinch. 
 
 Danny looked at them, one after the other, 
 then resumed his work. Soon a new voice came 
 to his ears, speaking to Avery. He noticed that 
 where the little man s greeting to the others had 
 been full-hearted and buoyant, it was now curt, 
 almost unkind. 
 
 Curious, Danny looked up again looked up to 
 meet a leer from a pair of eyes that appeared 
 to be only half opened; green eyes, surrounded 
 by inflamed lids, under protruding brows that 
 boasted but little hair, above high, sunburned 
 cheek bones; eyes that reflected all the small 
 meanness that lived in the thin lips and short 
 chin. As he looked, the eyes leered more omi 
 nously. Then the man spoke : 
 
 "Long ways from home, ain t you?" 
 
 Although he looked directly at Danny, although 
 he put the question to him and to him alone, 
 the boy pretended to misunderstand chose to 
 do so because in the counter question he could 
 express a little of the quick contempt, the instinc 
 tive loathing that sprang up for this man who 
 needed not to speak to show his crude, unreason 
 ing, militant dislike for the stranger, and whose 
 words only gave vent to the spirit of the bully. 
 
 "Are you speaking to me?" Danny asked, 
 and the cool simplicity of his expression carried 
 its weight to those who stood waiting to hear 
 his answer.
 
 THE TROUBLE HUNTER 55 
 
 The other grinned, his mouth twisting at an 
 angle. 
 
 "Who else round here d be far from home?" 
 he asked. 
 
 Danny turned to Jed. 
 
 "How far is it?" he asked. 
 
 "A hundred an ten," Jed answered, a swift 
 pleasure lighting his serious face. 
 
 Danny turned back to his questioner. 
 
 "I m a hundred and ten miles from home," 
 he said with the same simplicity, and lifted the 
 saddle from his horse s back. 
 
 It was the sort of clash that mankind the 
 world over recognizes. No angry word was 
 spoken, no hostile movement made. But the 
 spirit behind it could not be misunderstood. 
 
 The man turned away with a forced laugh 
 which showed his confusion. He had been 
 worsted, he knew. The smiles of those who 
 watched and listened told him that. It stung 
 him to be so easily rebuffed, and his laugh boded 
 ugly things. 
 
 "Don t have anything to do with him," cau 
 tioned Jed as they threw their saddles under a 
 shed. "His name s Rhues, an he s a nasty, 
 snaky cuss. He ll make trouble every chance 
 he gets. Don t give him a chance!" 
 
 They went in to eat with the ranch hands. A 
 dozen men sat at one long table and bolted im 
 mense quantities of food. 
 
 The boiled beef, the thick, lumpy gravy, the
 
 56 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 discolored potatoes, the coarse biscuit were as 
 strange to Danny as was his environment. His 
 initiation back at Colt had not brought him 
 close to such crudity as this. He tasted gingerly, 
 and then condemned himself for being surprised 
 to find the food good. 
 
 "You re a fool!" he told himself. "This is 
 the real thing; you ve been dabbling in unre 
 alities so long that you ve lost sense of the virtue 
 of fundamentals. No frills here, but there s 
 substance!" 
 
 He looked up and down at the low-bent faces, 
 and a new joy came to him. He was out among 
 men! Crude, genuine, real men! It was an 
 experience, new and refreshing. 
 
 But in the midst of his contemplation it was 
 as though fevered fingers clutched his throat. 
 He dropped his fork, lifted the heavy cup, and 
 drank the coffee it contained in scorching gulps. 
 
 Once more his big problem had pulled him 
 back, and he wrestled with it alone among 
 men! 
 
 After the gorging the men pushed back their 
 chairs and yawned. A desultory conversation 
 waxed to lively banter. A match flared, and the 
 talk came through fumes of tobacco smoke. 
 
 "Anybody got th makin s?" asked Jed. 
 
 "Here," muttered Danny beside him, and 
 thrust pouch and papers into his hand. 
 
 Danny followed Jed in the cigarette rolling, 
 and they lighted from the same match with an
 
 THE TROUBLE HUNTER 57 
 
 interchange of smiles that added another strand 
 to the bond between them. 
 
 "That s good tobacco," Jed pronounced, blow 
 ing out a whiff of smoke. 
 
 "Ought to be; it cost two dollars a pound." 
 
 Jed laughed queerly. 
 
 "Yes, it ought to," he agreed, "but we ve got 
 a tobacco out here they call Satin. Ten cents a 
 can. It tastes mighty good to us." 
 
 Danny sensed a gentle rebuke, but he somehow 
 knew that it was given in all kindliness, that it 
 was given for his own good. 
 
 "While I fight up one way," he thought, "I 
 must fight down another." And then aloud: 
 "We ll stock up with your tobacco. What s 
 liked by one ought to be good enough for 
 He let the sentence trail off. 
 
 Jed answered with: "Both." 
 
 And the spirit behind that word added more 
 strength to their uniting tie. 
 
 The day had been a hard one. Darkness 
 came quickly, and the workers straggled off 
 toward the bunk house. Tossing away the butt 
 of his cigarette, Jed proposed that they turn in. 
 
 "I m tired, and you ve got a right to be," 
 he declared. 
 
 They walked out into the cool of evening. A 
 light flared in the bunk house, and the sound 
 of voices raised high came to them. 
 
 "Like to look in?" Avery asked, and Danny 
 thought he would.
 
 58 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 Men were in all stages of undress. Some were 
 already in their beds; others, in scant attire, 
 stood in mid-floor and talked loudly. From one 
 to another passed Rhues. In his hand he held 
 a bottle, and to the lips of each man in turn he 
 placed the neck. He faced Jed and Danny as 
 they entered. At sight of the stranger a quick 
 hush fell. Rhues stood there, bottle in hand, 
 leering again. 
 
 "Jed, you don t drink," he said in his drawling, 
 insinuating voice, "but mebby yer friend here 
 uld like a nightcap." 
 
 He advanced to Danny, bottle extended, an 
 evil smile on his face. Jed raised a hand as though 
 to interfere; then dropped it. His jaw settled 
 in grim resolution, his nostrils dilated, and his 
 eyes fixed themselves fast on Danny s face. 
 
 Oh, the wailing eagerness of those abused 
 nerves! The cracking of that tortured throat! 
 All the weariness of the day, of the week; all the 
 sagging of spirit under the assault of the demon 
 in him were concentrated now. A hot wave 
 swept his body. The fumes set the blood rushing 
 to his eyes, to his ears ; made him reel. His hand 
 wavered up, half daring to reach for the bottle, 
 and the strain of his drawn face dissolved in a 
 weak smile. 
 
 Why hold off? Why battle longer? Why 
 delay? Why? Why? Why? 
 
 Of a sudden his ears rang with memory of his 
 father s brittle voice in cold denunciation, and
 
 THE TROUBLE HUNTER 59 
 
 the quick passing of that illusion left another 
 talking there, in nasal twang, carrying a great 
 sympathy. 
 
 "No, thanks," he said just above a whisper. 
 "I m not drinking." 
 
 He turned quickly and stepped out the door. 
 
 Through the confusion of sounds and ideas 
 he heard the rasping laughter of Rhues, and 
 the tone of it, the nasty, jeering note, did 
 much to clear his brain and bring him back to 
 the fighting. 
 
 Jed walked beside him and they crossed to 
 where their rolls of bedding had been dropped, 
 speaking no word. As they stooped to pick up 
 the stuff the older man s hand fell on the boy s 
 shoulder. His fingers squeezed, and then the 
 palm smote Danny between the shoulder blades, 
 soundly, confidently. Oh, that assurance! This 
 man understood. And he had faith in this wreck 
 of a youth that he had seen for the first time ten 
 hours before! 
 
 Shaken, tormented though he was, weakened 
 by the sharp struggle of a moment ago, Danny 
 felt keenly and with something like pride that it 
 had been worth the candle. He knew, too, with 
 a feeling of comfort, that an explanation to Jed 
 would never be necessary. 
 
 Silently they spread the blankets and, with a 
 simple "Good night," crawled in between. 
 
 Danny had never before slept with his clothes 
 on when sober. He had never snuggled be-
 
 60 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 tween coarse blankets in the open. But somehow 
 it did not seem strange; it was all natural, as 
 though it should be so. 
 
 His mind went round and round, fighting away 
 the tingling odor that still clung in his nostrils, 
 trying to blot out the wondering looks on the 
 countenances of those others as they watched 
 his struggle to refuse the stuff his tormentor 
 held out to him. 
 
 He did not care about forgetting how Rhues s 
 laughter sounded. Somehow the feeling of loath 
 ing for the man for a time distracted his thought 
 from the pleading of his throat, augmented the 
 singing of that chord his father had set in motion, 
 bolstered his will to do, to conquer this thing! 
 
 But the effect was not enduring. On and on 
 through the narrow channels that the fevered 
 condition made went his thinking; forever and 
 forever it must be so the fighting, fighting, 
 fighting; the searching for petty distractions that 
 would make him forget for the moment ! 
 
 Suddenly he saw that there were stars mil 
 lions upon countless millions of them dusted across 
 the dome of the pale heavens as carelessly as a 
 baker might dust silvered sugar over the icing of 
 a festal cake. Big stars and tiny stars and mere 
 little diffusive glows of light that might come 
 from a thousand worlds, clustering together out 
 there in infinite void. Blue stars and white 
 stars, orange stars, and stars that glowed red. 
 Stars that sent beams through incalculable space
 
 THE TROUBLE HUNTER 61 
 
 and stars that swung low, that seemed almost 
 attainable. Stars that blinked sleepily and 
 stars that stared without wavering, purposeful, 
 attentive. Stars alone and lonely; stars in 
 bunches. Stars in rows and patterns, as though 
 put there with design. 
 
 Danny breathed deeply, as though the pure 
 air were stuffy and he needed more of it, for the 
 vagary of his wandering mind had carried him 
 back to the place where light points were arranged 
 by plan. He saw again the electric-light kitten 
 and the spool of thread, the mineral-water clock, 
 the cigarette sign with flowing border, the 
 
 Whisky again! He moved his throbbing head 
 from side to side. 
 
 "Is it a blank wall?" he asked quite calmly. 
 1 Shall I always come up against it ? Is there no 
 way out?"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 JED PHILOSOPHIZES 
 
 MORNING: a flickering in the east that 
 gives again to the black hold of night. 
 Another attempt, a longer glimmer. It recedes, 
 returns stronger; struggles, bursts from the pall 
 of darkness, and blots out the stars before it. 
 And after that first silver white come soft colors 
 shoots of violet, a wave of pink, then the golden 
 glory of a new day. 
 
 Jed Avery yawned loud and lingeringly, push 
 ing the blankets away from his chin with blind, 
 fumbling motions. He thrust both arms from 
 the covers and reached above his head, up and 
 up and up ! until he ended with a satisfied 
 groan. He sat erect, opening and shutting his 
 mouth, rubbed his eyes and stopped a motion 
 half completed. 
 
 Danny Lenox slept with lips parted. His 
 brown hair the hair that wanted to curl so 
 badly was well down over the brow, and the 
 skin beneath those locks was damp. One hand 
 rested on the tarpaulin covering of the bed, the 
 fingers in continual motion. 
 
 "Poor kid!" Jed muttered under his breath. 
 "Poor son of a gun! He s in a jack-pot, all 
 right, an it 11 take all any man ever had to pull 
 
 62
 
 JED PHILOSOPHIZES 65. 
 
 1 Mornin , sonny!" he cried as Danny opened 
 his eyes and raised his head with a start. 
 
 For a moment the boy stared at him, evidencing 
 no recognition. Then he smiled and sat up. 
 
 "How are you, Mr. Avery?" 
 
 "Well," the other began grimly, looking straight 
 before him, "Mr. Avery s in a bad way. He 
 died about thirty year ago." 
 
 Danny looked at him with a grin. 
 
 "But Old Jed Old VB," he went on, "he s 
 alive an happy. Fancy wrappin s is for boxes 
 of candy an playin cards," he explained. "They 
 ain t necessary to men." 
 
 I see all right, Jed ! 
 
 Danny stared about him at the freshness of the 
 young day. 
 
 "Wouldn t it be slick," Jed wanted to know, 
 "if we was all fixed like th feller who makes th 
 days? If yesterday s was a bad job he can start 
 right in on this one an make it a winner! Now, 
 if this day turns out bad he can forget it an 
 begin to-morrow at sun-up to try th job all over 
 again ! 
 
 "Yes, it would be fine to have more chances," 
 agreed Danny. 
 
 Jed sat silent a moment. 
 
 "Mebby so, an mebby no," he finally recanted. 
 "It would be slick an easy, all right; but mebby 
 we d get shiftless. Mebby we d keep puttin 
 off tryin hard until next time. As t ?.s, we have 
 to make every chance our only one, an work
 
 64 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 ourselves to th limit. Never let a chance get 
 away! Throw it an tie it an hang on!" 
 "In other words, think it s now or never?" 
 Jed reached for a boot and declared solemnly: 
 "It s th only thing that keeps us onery human 
 bein s on our feet an movin along!" 
 
 Breakfast was a brief affair, brief but enthu 
 siastic. The gastronomic feats performed at that 
 table were things at which to marvel, and Danny 
 divided his thoughts between wonder at them 
 and recalling the events of the night before. 
 Only once did he catch Rhues s eyes, and then 
 the leer which came from them whipped a flush 
 high in his cheeks. 
 
 Jed and Danny rode out into the morning side 
 by side, smoking some of the boy s tobacco. 
 As the sun mounted and the breeze did not rise, 
 the heat became too intense for a coat, and Danny 
 stripped his off and tied it behind the saddle. 
 Jed looked at the pink silk shirt a long time. 
 
 "To be sure an that s a fine piece of goods," 
 he finally declared. 
 
 Danny glanced down at the gorgeous garment 
 with a mingled feeling of amusement and guilt. 
 But he merely said: 
 
 "I thought so, too, when I bought it." 
 And even that little tendency toward foppish 
 ness which has been handed down to men from 
 those ancestors who paraded in their finest skins 
 and paints before the home of stalwart cave 
 women seemed to draw the two closer to each other.
 
 JED PHILOSOPHIZES 65 
 
 As though he could sense the young chap s 
 bewilderment and wonder at the life about him, 
 Jed related much that pertained to his own work. 
 
 "Yes, I raise some horses," he concluded, "but 
 I sell a lot of wild ones, too. It s fun chasin em, 
 and it gets to be a habit with a feller. I like it 
 an can make a livin at it, so why should I go 
 into cattle? Those horses are out there in th 
 hills, runnin wild, like some folks, an doin 
 nobody no good. I catch em an halter-break 
 em an they go to th river an get to be of use 
 to somebody." 
 
 "Is n t it a job to catch them?" Danny asked. 
 
 "Well, I guess so!" Jed s eyes sparkled. 
 
 "Some of em are wiser than a bad man. 
 Why, up in our country s a stallion that ain t 
 never had a rope on him. Th Captain we ve 
 got to call him. He s th wildest an wisest 
 critter, horse or human, you ever see. Eight 
 years old, an all his life he s been chased an 
 never touched. He s big not so big in weight ; 
 big like this here man Napoleon, I mean. He 
 rules th range. He has th best mares on th 
 mountain in his bunch, an he handles em like 
 a king. We ve tossed down our whole hand 
 time an again, but he always beats us out. 
 We re no nearer catchin him to-day than we 
 was when he run a yearlin ." 
 
 The little man s voice rose shrilly and his eyes 
 flashed until Danny, gazing on him, caught some 
 of his fever and felt it run to the ends of his body.
 
 66 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 "Oh, but that s a horse ! " Jed went on. " Why, 
 just to see him standin up on the sky line, head 
 up, tail arched-like, ready to run, not scared, 
 just darin us to come get him well, it s worth 
 a hard ride. There s somethin about th Cap 
 tain that keeps us from hatin him. By all 
 natural rights somebody ought to shoot a stallion 
 that ll run wild so long an drive off bunches of 
 gentle mares an make em crazy wild. But 
 no. Nobody on Red Mountain or nobody who 
 ever chased th Captain has wanted to harm 
 him; yet I ve heard men swear until it would 
 make your hair curl when they was runnin him! 
 He s that kind. He gets to somethin that s in 
 real men that makes em light headed. I guess 
 it s his strength. He s bigger n tricks, that 
 horse. He s learned all about traps an such, 
 an th way men generally catch wild horses don t 
 bother him at all. Lordy, boy, but th Captain s 
 somethin to set up nights an talk about!" 
 
 His voice dropped on that declaration, almost 
 in reverence. 
 
 "Well, he s so wise and strong that he ll just 
 keep right on running free; is that the idea?" 
 asked Danny. 
 
 Jed gnawed off a fresh chew and repocketed 
 the plug, shifted in his saddle, and shook his 
 head. 
 
 "Nope, I guess not," he said gravely. "I 
 don t reckon so, because it ain t natural; it ain t 
 th way things is done in this world. Did you
 
 JED PHILOSOPHIZES 67 
 
 ever stop to think that of all th strong things us 
 men has knowed about somethin has always 
 turned up to be a little bit stronger? We ve 
 been all th time pattin ourselves on th back 
 an sayin , There, we ve gone an done it; that ll 
 last forever! an then watchin a wind or a rain 
 carry off what we ve thought was so strong. 
 Either that, I say, or else we ve been fallin down 
 on our knees an prayin for help to stop somethin 
 new an powerful that s showed up. An when 
 prayin did n t do no good up pops somebody 
 with an idea that th Lord wants us folks to carry 
 th heavy end of th load in such matters, an gets 
 busy workin . An his job ends up by makin 
 somethin so strong that it satisfied all them 
 prayers folks bein that unparticular that they 
 don t mind where th answer comes from so long 
 as it comes an they gets th benefits! 
 
 "That s th way it is all th time. We wake 
 up in th mornin an see somethin so discour- 
 agin that we want to crawl back to bed an quit 
 tryin ; then we stop to think that nothin has 
 ever been so great or so strong that it kept right 
 on havin its own way all th time; an we get 
 our sand up an pitch in, an pretty soon we re 
 on top! 
 
 "All we need is th sand to tackle big jobs; 
 just bein sure that they s some way of doin 
 or preventin an makin a reg lar hunt for that 
 one thing. So t is with th Captain. He s 
 fooled us a long time now, but some day a man 11
 
 68 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 come along who s wiser than th Captain, an 
 he ll get caught. 
 
 "Nothin strange about it. Just th workin 
 out of things. Course, it ll all depend on th 
 man. Mebby some of us on th mountain has 
 th brains; mebby some others has th sand, but 
 th combination ain t been struck yet. We 
 ain t men enough. Th feller who catches that 
 horse has got to be all man, just like th feller 
 who beats out any thin else that s hard; got to 
 be man all th way through. If he s only part 
 man an tackles th job he s likely to get tromped 
 on; if he s all man, he ll do th ridin ." 
 
 Jed stopped talking and gazed dreamily at 
 the far horizon; dreamily, but with an eye which 
 moved a trifle now and then to take into its range 
 the young chap who rode beside him. Danny s 
 head was down, facing the dust which rose from 
 the feet of the horses ahead. The biting particles 
 irritated the membrane of his throat, but for the 
 moment he did not heed. "Am I a man all 
 the way through?" he kept asking himself. "All 
 the way through?" 
 
 And then his nerves stung him vicious y, 
 shrieking for the stimulant which had fed them 
 so long and so well. His aching muscles pleaded 
 for it; his heart, miserable and lonely, missed the 
 close, reckless friendships of those days so shortly 
 removed, in spite of his realization of what those 
 relations had meant ; he yearned for the warming, 
 heedless thrills; his eyes ached and called out for
 
 JED PHILOSOPHIZES 69 
 
 just the one draft that would make them alert, 
 less hurtful. 
 
 From every joint in his body came the begging ! 
 But that chord down in his heart still vibrated; 
 his father s arraignment was in his ears, its truth 
 ringing clearly. The incentive to forge ahead, 
 to stop the wasting, grew bigger, and his will 
 stood stanch in spite of the fact that his spinning 
 brain played such tricks as making the click of 
 pebbles sound like the clink of ice in glasses! 
 
 Then, too, there was Jed, the big-hearted, 
 beside him. And Jed was saying, after a long 
 silence, as though he still thought of his theme: 
 Yes, sir, us men can do any old thing if we only 
 think so! Nothin has ever been too much for 
 us; nothin ever will if we only keep on thinkin 
 as men ought to think an respectin ourselves." 
 
 Thus they traveled, side by side, the one 
 fighting, the other uttering his homely truths and 
 watching, always watching, noting effects, detect 
 ing temptations when the strain across the worried 
 brow and about the tight mouth approached the 
 breaking point. With keen intuition he went 
 down into the young fellow and found the vibrat 
 ing chord, the one that had been set humming 
 by scorn and distrust. But instead of abusing 
 it, instead of goading it on, Jed nursed it, fed it, 
 strengthening the chord itself with his philosophy 
 and his optimism. 
 
 They went on down Ant Creek, past the ranches 
 which spread across the narrow valley. Again
 
 70 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 they slept under the open skies, and Danny once 
 more marveled at the stars. 
 
 That second morning was agony, but Jed knew 
 no relenting. 
 
 "You re sore an stiff," he said, "but keepin 
 at a thing when it hurts is what counts, is what 
 gets a feller well an that applies to more things 
 than saddle sores, too." 
 
 He said the last as though aside, but the point 
 carried. 
 
 At the mouth of the creek, where it flows into 
 Clear River, they swung to the west and went 
 downstream. Danny s condition became only 
 semi-conscious. His head hung, his eyes were 
 but half opened. Living resolved itself into three 
 things. First and second: the thundering de 
 mands and the stubborn resistance of his will. 
 When Jed spoke and roused him the remaining 
 element come to the fore: his physical suffering. 
 That agony became more and more acute as the 
 miles passed, but in spite of its sharpness it 
 required the influence of his companion s voice 
 to awaken him to its reality. 
 
 Always, in a little back chamber of his mind, 
 was a bit of glowing warmth his newly born 
 love for the man who rode beside him. 
 
 It was night when they reached the ranch. 
 We re arrived, sonny ! This is home ! cried Jed, 
 slapping Danny on the shoulder. Our home. 
 The boy mastered his senses with an effort.
 
 JED PHILOSOPHIZES 71 
 
 When he dismounted he slumped to one knee 
 and Jed had to help him stand erect. 
 
 Danny remembered nothing of the bed going, 
 nor could he tell how long the little, gray-haired 
 man stood over him, muttering now and then, 
 rubbing his palms together; nor of how, when 
 he turned toward the candle on the table, burning 
 steadily and brightly there in the night like a 
 young Crusader fighting back the shadows into the 
 veriest corner of the room, his eyes were misted. 
 
 It was a strange awakening, that w T hich followed. 
 Danny felt as though he had slept through a 
 whole phase of his existence. At first he was not 
 conscious of his surroundings, did not try to 
 remember where he was or what had gone before. 
 He lay on his back, mantled in a strange peace, 
 wonderfully content. Torture seemed to have left 
 him, bodily torments had fled. His heart pumped 
 slowly ; a vague, pleasing weakness was in his bones. 
 It was rest rest after achievement, the achieve 
 ment of stability, the arrival at a goal. 
 
 Then, breaking into full consciousness, his 
 nostrils detected odors. He sniffed slightly, 
 scarcely knowing that he did so. Cooking! It 
 was unlike other smells from places of cookery 
 that he had known; it was attractive, compelling. 
 
 All that had happened since his departure 
 from Colt came back to him with his first move 
 ment. His body was a center of misery, as 
 though it were shot full of needles, as though it 
 had been stretched on a rack, then blistered.
 
 72 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 Dressing was accomplished to the accompaniment 
 of many grunts and quick intakings of breath. 
 
 When he tried to walk he found that the process 
 was necessarily slow slower than it had ever been 
 before. Setting each foot before the other gingerly, 
 as if in experiment, he walked across the tiny room 
 toward the larger apartment of the cabin. 
 
 "Mornin !" cried Jed, closing the oven door 
 with a gentleness that required the service of 
 both hands. "I allowed you d be up about now. 
 Just step outside an wash an it ll be about 
 ready. Can you eat? Old VB sure can build a 
 breakfast, an he s never done better than this." 
 
 "By the smell, I judge so," said Danny. 
 
 The warm breath of baking biscuits came to 
 him from the oven. A sputtering gurgle on the 
 stove told that something fried. The aroma of 
 coffee was in the air, too, and Jed lifted eggs 
 from a battered pail to drop them into a steaming 
 kettle. The table, its plain top scrubbed to 
 whiteness, w r as set for two, and the sunlight that 
 streamed through the window seemed to be all 
 caught and concentrated in a great glass jar of 
 honey that served as a centerpiece. 
 
 Danny s eyes and nostrils and ears took it all 
 in as he moved toward the outer doorway. When 
 he gained it he paused, a hand on the low lintel, 
 and looked out upon his world. 
 
 Away to the south stretched the gulch, rolling 
 of bottom, covered with the gray-green sage. 
 Over east rose the stern wall, scarred and split,
 
 JED PHILOSOPHIZES 73 
 
 with cedars clinging in the interstices, their forms 
 dark green against the saffron of the rocks. Up 
 above, towering into the unstained sky of morn 
 ing, a rounded, fluted peak, like the crowning 
 achievement of some vast cathedral. 
 
 The sun was just in sight above the cliff, but 
 Danny knew that day was aging, and felt, with 
 his peace, a sudden sharp affection for the old 
 man who, with an indulgence that was close to 
 motherly, had let him sleep. It made him feel 
 young and incompetent, yet it was good, com 
 forting like the peace of that great stillness 
 about him. 
 
 Except for the soft sounds from the stove, 
 there was no break. Above, on the ridges, a 
 breeze might be blowing; but not an intimation 
 of it down here. Just quiet silvery and holy. 
 
 The sun shoved itself clear of the screening 
 trees. A jack rabbit, startled by nothing at all, 
 sprang from its crouching under a brush shelter 
 and made off across the gulch with the jerky 
 lightness of a stone skipping on water. As he 
 bobbed the grass and bushes dewdrops flew from 
 them, catching sunbeams as they hurtled out 
 to their death, for one instant of wondrous glory 
 flashing like gems. 
 
 Danny Lenox, late of New York, drew a deep, 
 quivering breath and leaned his head against 
 the crude doorway. He was sore and weak and 
 felt almost hysterical, but perhaps this was only 
 because he was so happy!
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 AMBITION Is BORN 
 
 A ND then began Danny s apprenticeship. 
 ^~*> Jed, the wise, did not delay activity. He 
 commenced with the boy as soon as breakfast 
 had been eaten and the dishes washed. 
 
 That first day they shod a horse, Danny doing 
 nothing really, but taking orders from Jed as 
 though the weight of a vast undertaking rested 
 on his shoulders. 
 
 The next day they mended fences from early 
 morning until evening. 
 
 Gradually the realization came to Danny that 
 he was doing something, that he was filling a 
 legitimate place small, surely: nevertheless he 
 was being of use, he was creating. A pleasing 
 sensation! One of the few truly wholesome 
 delights he had ever experienced. Danny thought 
 about it with almost childish happiness; then, 
 letting his mind return again to the established 
 rut, he was surprised to know that mere thinking 
 about his simple, homely duties had stilled for 
 the time it endured the restless creature within 
 him. 
 
 The boy s bodily hurts righted themselves. 
 Long hours of sleep did more than anything else 
 to speed recovery. Those first two nights he 
 
 74
 
 AMBITION IS BORN 75 
 
 was between covers before darkness came to the 
 gulch, and Jed let him sleep until the sun was 
 well up. 
 
 On the third evening they sat outside, Danny 
 watching Jed put a new half-sole on a cast-off 
 riding boot. 
 
 "They re your size," the old man said, "an 
 you ll have to wear boots, to be sure. Them 
 things you got on ain t what I d call exactly 
 fitted to ridin a horse." 
 
 Danny looked down at his modish Oxfords and 
 smiled. Then he glanced up at the man beside 
 him, who hammered and cut and grunted while 
 he worked as though his very immortality de 
 pended on getting those boots ready for his new 
 hand to wear. 
 
 Oh, the boy from the city could not then 
 appreciate the big feeling of man for mankind 
 which prompted such humble labor. It was a 
 labor of love, the mere mending of that stiff old 
 boot! In it Jed Avery found the encompassing 
 happiness which comes to those who understand, 
 happiness of the same sort he had felt back there 
 at Colt when he saw that there was a human 
 being who needed help and that it was in his 
 power to give him that help. And the peace this 
 happiness engendered created an atmosphere 
 which soothed and made warm the heart of the 
 boy, though he did not know why. 
 
 "Guess we d better move inside an get a 
 lighv," Jed muttered finally. "I ll shut the
 
 76 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 corral gate. You light th candle, will you? 
 It s on th shelf over th table stickin in a 
 bottle." 
 
 Danny watched him go away into the dusk 
 and heard the creak of the big gate swinging shut 
 before he stepped into the house and groped his 
 way along for the shelf. He found it after a 
 moment and fumbled along for the candle Jed 
 had said was there. His fingers closed on some 
 thing hard and cold and cylindrical. He slid 
 his fingers upward; then staggered back with a 
 half-cry. 
 
 "What s wrong?" asked Jed, coming into the 
 house. 
 
 Danny did not answer him, so the old man 
 stepped forward toward the shelf. In a moment 
 a match flared; the cold wick of the candle took 
 the flame, warmed, sent it higher, and a glow 
 filled the room. 
 
 The boy looked out from eyes that were dark 
 and wide and filled with the old horror. The 
 hand held near his lips shook, and he turned on 
 Jed a look that pleaded, then gazed back at the 
 light. 
 
 The candle was stuck in the neck of a whisky 
 bottle. 
 
 Danny opened his lips to speak, but the words 
 would not come. That terror was back again, 
 shattering his sense of peace, melting the words 
 in his throat with its heat. 
 
 Jed moved near to him.
 
 AMBITION IS BORN 77 
 
 "It s a bright light for such a little candle," 
 he said slowly, and a stout assurance was in his 
 tone. 
 
 But I I touched the bottle in the dark ! 
 
 Danny s voice was high and strained, and the 
 words, when finally they did come, tripped over 
 one another in nervous haste. His knees were 
 weak under him. Such was the strength of the 
 tentacles which reached up to stay his struggles 
 and to drag him back into the depths from which 
 he willed to rise. Such was the weakness of the 
 nervous system on which the strain of the ordeal 
 was placed. 
 
 Jed put a hand on the boy s shoulder and gazed 
 into the drawn face. 
 
 "It s all right, sonny," he said softly, his voice 
 modulating from twang to tenderness in the 
 manner it had. "Most men touches it in th 
 dark. But don t you see what this bottle s for? 
 Don t you see that candle? Burnin away there, 
 corkin up th bottle, givin us light so we can 
 see?" 
 
 Then the other hand went up to the boy s 
 other shoulder, and the little old rancher shook 
 young Danny Lenox gently, as though to joggle 
 him back to himself. 
 
 "I know, sonny," he said softly. "I know " 
 Then he turned away quickly and smote his 
 palms together with a sharp crack. 
 
 "Now get to bed. I ll finish these here boots 
 to-night and in th mornin we ride. If you re
 
 78 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 goin to get to be a top hand, we ve got to quit 
 foolin around home an get to learn th country. 
 They s a lot of colts we got to brand an a bunch 
 of wild ones to gather. It means work lots of 
 it for you an me!" 
 
 He set to work, busily thumping on the boot. 
 
 In the morning, Danny was subdued, subdued 
 and shaking. The spontaneity that had char 
 acterized his first days on the ranch had departed. 
 He was still eager for activity, but not for the 
 sake of the new experiences in themselves. That 
 gnawing was again in his throat, tearing his 
 flesh, it seemed, and to still the trembling of his 
 hand it was necessary for him to clutch the 
 saddle horn and keep his fingers clamped tightly 
 about it as they rode along. 
 
 They climbed out of the gulch, horses picking 
 their way up an almost impossible trail, and on a 
 high ridge, where country rolled and tossed about 
 them for immeasurable distances, Jed stopped 
 and pointed out the directions to his companion. 
 
 Thirty miles to the south was Clear River 
 with its string of ranches, and the town of Ranger, 
 their post office. Twenty miles to the southeast 
 was the S Bar S Ranch, the center of the coun 
 try s cattle activity, and over west, on Sand 
 Creek, a dozen miles ride across the hills and 
 double that distance by road, was another scatter 
 ing of ranches where Dick Worth, deputy sheriff 
 for that end of Clear River Coujlty, lived.
 
 AMBITION IS BORN 79 
 
 "An to th north of us," continued Jed, with 
 a sweep of his hand, "they s nothin but hills - 
 clean to Wyoming! We re on th outskirts of 
 settlements. South of th river it s all ranches, 
 but north nothin . Couple of summer camps 
 but no ranches. It s a great get-away country, 
 all right!" 
 
 The riding was easy that day, and in spite 
 of his stiffness Danny wished it were harder, 
 because the turmoil kept up within him, and 
 even the unbroken talk of Jed, giving him an 
 intelligent, interesting idea of the country, could 
 not crowd out his disquieting thoughts. 
 
 But it was easier the next day, and Danny took 
 a deep interest in the hunt for a band of mares 
 with colts that should be branded. Jed s low, 
 warning "H-s-s-t! There they are!" set his 
 heart pounding wildly, and he listened eagerly 
 to the directions the old man gave him; then he 
 waited in high excitement while Jed circled and 
 got behind the bunch. 
 
 The horses came toward him, and Danny, at 
 Jed s shout, commenced to ride for the ranch. 
 It was a new, an odd, an interesting game. The 
 horses came fast and faster. Now and then to 
 his ears floated Jed s repeated cry: "Keep 
 goin ! Keep ahead!" And he spurred on, won 
 dering at every jump how his horse could possibly 
 keep his feet longer in that awful footing. 
 
 But he had faith in the stout little beast he 
 rode, and his spirit was of the sort that would
 
 8o "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 not question when a man as skilled in the game 
 as was Jed urged him along. 
 
 The mares with their colts pressed closely, but 
 Danny kept going, kept urging speed. Straight 
 on for the ranch he headed, and when they reached 
 the level bottom of the gulch the race waxed 
 warm. 
 
 "Into th round corral!" cried Jed. "Keep 
 goin ! You re doin fine!" 
 
 And into the round corral Danny headed his 
 mount, while the nose of the lead mare reached 
 out at his pony s flank. 
 
 The gate swung shut ; the mares trotted around 
 the inclosure, worried, for there their offspring 
 had been taken from them before. The coits 
 hung close to their mothers, snorting and rolling 
 their wide eyes, while the saddle horses stood 
 with legs apart, getting their wind. 
 
 Danny s eyes sparkled. 
 
 "That s sport!" he declared. "But, say, will 
 these horses always follow a rider that way?" 
 
 Jed loosed his cinch before he answered: 
 "Horses is like some men. As long as they re 
 bein pushed from behind an they s somebody 
 goin ahead of em, they 11 follow follow right 
 through high water! But once let em get past 
 th rider who s supposed to be holdin em up 
 why, then they s no handlin em at all. They 
 scatter an go their own way, remainin free. 
 
 "As I said, they re like men. To be sure, 
 lots of men has got to give that what s leadin
 
 AMBITION IS BORN 81 
 
 em such a run that they beat it to death an get 
 a chance to go free!" 
 
 Danny rubbed his horse s drenched withers 
 and agreed with a nod as Jed walked over to the 
 gate and fumbled with the fastening. 
 
 "Say," he said, turning round, "I like th way 
 you ride!" 
 
 Danny looked up quickly, pleased. 
 
 "I m glad," he said, but in the simple assertion 
 was a great self-pride. 
 
 "Most fellers strange in th country wouldn t 
 fancy takin that kind of a bust down off a point. 
 No, sir. Not such a ride for us old heads, but 
 for a greenhorn - Well, I guess you ll get to be 
 a top hand some day, all right!" 
 
 And the influence which more than all else 
 was to help Danny become a top hand, which 
 was to set up in his heart the great ambition, 
 which was to hold itself up as a blazing ideal, 
 came early in his novitiate as a horse hunter 
 came in a fitting setting, on a day richly golden, 
 when the air seemed filled with a haze of holy 
 incense, holy with the holiness of beauty. It 
 was one of those mountain days when the immen 
 sity of nature becomes so obvious and so potent 
 that even the beasts leave off their hunting or 
 their grazing to gaze into wondrous distances. 
 The sage is green and brash in the near sunlight, 
 soft and purple out yonder; the hills sharp and 
 hard and detailed under the faultless sky for 
 unthinkable miles about, then soft and vague,
 
 82 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 melting in color and line, rolling, reaching, tossing 
 in a repetition of ranges until eyes ache in follow 
 ing them and men are weak about their middles 
 from the feeling of vastnesses to which measure 
 ments by figures are profane. 
 
 Jed and Danny searched for horses along two 
 parallel ridges. Now and then they saw each 
 other, but for the most part it had been a day 
 of solitary riding. 
 
 Late afternoon arrived, and Danny had about 
 abandoned hope of success. He was considering 
 the advisability of mounting the ridge above 
 the gulch into which he had ridden and locating 
 Jed, though loath to leave the solitudes. 
 
 His pony picked them out and stopped before 
 Danny s eyes registered the sight. The boy 
 searched quickly, and over against a clump of 
 cedars, halfway up the rise, he saw horses. 
 
 "No, that s not they," he muttered. "Jed said 
 there were two white mares among them. Not 
 
 His pony started under him, gave a sharp little 
 shudder, then moved a step backward and stood 
 still, a barely perceptible tremor shaking his limbs. 
 
 Then a sound new and strange came to Danny. 
 He did not know its origin, but it contained a 
 quality that sent a thrill pulsing from his heart. 
 Shrill it was, but not sharply cut, wavering but 
 not breaking; alarm, warning, concern, caution 
 the whistle of a stallion! Then silence, while the 
 mares stood rigid and the saddle horse held his 
 breath.
 
 AMBITION IS BORN 83 
 
 Again it came, and a quick chill struck down 
 Danny s spine. His searching eyes encountered 
 the source. There, halfway between the mares 
 and the crown of the ridge he stood, out on a 
 little rim-rock that made a fitting pedestal, alert, 
 defiant, feet firmly planted, with the poise of a 
 proud monarch. 
 
 Even across the distance his coat showed the 
 glossiness seen only on fine, short hair; his chest, 
 turned halfway toward the rider, was splendid in 
 breadth and depth, indicating superb strength, 
 endurance, high courage. Danny looked with a 
 surge of appreciation at the arch of the neck, 
 regal in its slim strength, at the fine, straight 
 limbs, clean as a dancing girl s; at the long, 
 lithe barrel with its fine symmetry. 
 
 A wandering breath of breeze came up the 
 gulch, fluttering the wealth of tail, lifting the 
 heavy mane and forelock. The horse raised a 
 front foot and smote the ledge on which he stood 
 as though wrath rose that a mere man should 
 ride into his presence, and he would demand 
 departure or homage from Danny Lenox. He 
 shook his noble head impatiently, to clear his 
 eyes of the hair that blew about them. And 
 once more came the whistle. 
 
 The mares stirred. One, a bright buckskin, 
 trotted up the rise a dozen yards, and stopped 
 to turn and look. The others moved slowly, 
 eyes and ears for Danny. 
 
 Again the whistle; a clatter of loosened stones
 
 84 -I CONQUERED" 
 
 as the black leader bounded up the hillside; and 
 the bunch was away in his wake. 
 
 "The Captain!" Danny breathed, and then, 
 in a cry which echoed down the gulch - The 
 Captain!" 
 
 He was scarcely conscious of his movements, 
 but his quirt fell, his spurs raked the sides of his 
 pony, and the sturdy little animal, young and 
 not yet fully developed, doing his best in making 
 up the ridge, labored effectively, perhaps drawn 
 on by that same raw desire which went straight 
 to the roots of Danny s spirit and came back to 
 set the fires glowing in his eyes. 
 
 The boy rode far forward in his saddle, his gaze 
 on the plunging band that scattered stones and 
 dirt as they strove for the top. But he was 
 many lengths behind when the last mare disap 
 peared over the rim. He fanned his pony again, 
 and the beast grunted in his struggles for in 
 creased speed in the climbing, lunging forward 
 with mighty efforts which netted so little ground. 
 
 As he toiled up the last yards Danny saw the 
 Captain again, standing there against the sky, 
 watching, waiting, mane and tail blowing about 
 him. His strong, full, ever delicate body quivered 
 with the singing spirit of confidence within him 
 and communicated itself to the weakling pursuer. 
 Just a glimpse of the man was all that the black 
 horse wanted, then he was off. 
 
 As Danny s horse caught the first stride in the 
 run down the ridge he saw the Captain stretch
 
 AMBITION IS BORN 85 
 
 that fine nose out to the flank of a lagging mare, 
 and saw the animal throw her head about in 
 pain as the strong teeth nipped her flesh, com 
 manding more speed. 
 
 Danny Lenox was mad ! He pulled off his hat 
 and beat his pony s withers with it. He cried aloud 
 the Captain s name. He went on and on, dropping 
 far down on his horse s side as they brushed under 
 the cedars, settling firmly to the seat when the 
 animal leaped over rocks. His shirt was open at 
 the neck, and his throat was chilled with the swift 
 rush of air, while hot blood swirled close to the 
 skin. His eyes glowed with the fire set there by 
 this new fascination, the love of beautiful strength ; 
 and through his body sang the will to conquer ! 
 
 It was an unfair race. Danny and his light 
 young horse had no chance. Off and away drew 
 the stallion and his bunch, without effort after that 
 first crazy break down the ridge. The last Danny 
 saw of him was with head turned backward, nose 
 lifted, as though he breathed disdainful defiance 
 at the man who would come in his wake with the 
 thirst for possession high within him! 
 
 And so the boy pulled up, dropped off, and let 
 his breathing pony rest. His legs were uncertain 
 under him, and he knew that his pulses raced. 
 For many minutes he strove to analyze his emo 
 tion but could not. 
 
 Jed slid off the next ridge and came up at a 
 trot. His face was radiant. "Well, he got you, 
 did n t he?" He laughed aloud.
 
 86 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 "I thought he would, all along; and I knowed he 
 had you when I see you break up over th ridge. 
 You ve got th fever now, like a lot of th rest of 
 us ! Mebby you 11 chase horses here for years, but 
 you 11 always have an eye out for just one thing 
 th Captain. You won t be satisfied until you ve 
 got him like all of us; not satisfied until we ve 
 done th biggest thing there is in sight to do." 
 
 Then, as though parenthetically: "An when 
 we ve done that we ve only h isted ourselves up 
 to where we can see that they s a hunderd times 
 as much to do." 
 
 "Gad, but he goes right into a fellow s heart!" 
 breathed Danny, looking into the sunset. "I 
 did n t know I was following him, Jed, until the 
 pony here commenced to tire." 
 
 He laughed apologetically, as though confessing 
 a foolishness, but his face was glowing with a new 
 light. A fresh incentive had come to him with 
 this awakening admiration, inciting him to 
 emulation. The spirit of the stallion stirred in 
 him again that vibrant chord which had been 
 urging him to fight on, not to give up. 
 
 His ambition to overcome his weakness began 
 to take quick, definite direction. Added to the 
 effort of overcoming his vices would henceforth 
 be the endeavor to achieve, to compass some 
 worthy object. This was his aim: to be a leader 
 to whom men would turn for inspiration; to be 
 unconquerable among men, as the Captain was 
 unconquerable among his kind.
 
 AMBITION IS BORN &, 
 
 As the ideal took shape, springing full-born 
 from his excitement, Danny Lenox felt lifted 
 above himself, felt stronger than human strength, 
 felt as though he were forever beyond human 
 weaknesses. 
 
 When they had ridden twenty minutes in 
 silence Jed broke out: "Sonny, I don t want 
 to act like n old woman, but I guess I m gettin 
 childish! I ve knowed you less than a month. 
 I don t even know who you was when you come. 
 We don t ask men about theirselves when they 
 come in here. What a feller wants to tell, we 
 take ; what he keeps to hisself we wonder at with 
 out mentionin it. 
 
 "But you, sonny you couldn t keep it 
 from me. I know what it is, I know. I seen 
 it when you got off th train at Colt seen 
 that somethin had got you down. I knowed 
 for sure what it was when you stopped by th 
 saloon there. I knowed how honest you was 
 with yourself in that little meetin with Rhues. 
 I know all about it cause I ve been through 
 th same thing alone, an years ago." 
 
 After a pause he went on: "An just now, 
 when I seen you comin down that ridge after 
 th Captain, I knowed th right stuff was in you 
 because when a thing like that horse touches a 
 man off it s a sign he s th right kind, th kind 
 that wants to do things for th sake of knowin 
 his own strength. You ve got th stuff in you 
 to be a man, but you re fightin an awful fight.
 
 88 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 You need help; you ought to have friends you 
 ought to have a daddy!" 
 
 He gulped, and for a dozen strides there were 
 no more words. 
 
 "I feel like adoptin you, sonny, cause I know. 
 I feel like makin you a part of this here outfit, 
 which ain t never branded a colt that did n t 
 belong to it, which ain t never done nothin 
 but go straight ahead an be honest with itself, 
 good times an bad. 
 
 "I used to be proud when they called me Old 
 VB, cause they all knowed th brand was on th 
 level, an when they, as you might say, put it 
 on me, I felt like I was wearin some sort of 
 medal. I feel just like makin you part of th 
 VB Young VB - - cause I can help you here 
 an an fore God A mighty you need help, 
 man that you are!" 
 
 An hour and a half later, when the last dish 
 had been wiped, when the dishpan had been hung 
 away, Danny spoke the next words. He walked 
 close to the old man, his face quiet under the 
 new consciousness of how far he must go to 
 approach this new ideal. He took the hard old 
 hand in his own, covered its back with the other, 
 and muttered in a voice that was far from clear: 
 "Goodnight, Old VB." 
 
 And the other, to cover the tenderness in his 
 tone, snapped back: "Get to bed, Young VB; 
 they s that ahead of you to-morrow which 11 
 take every bit of your courage and strength!"
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 WITH HOOF AND TOOTH 
 
 SO IT came to pass that Danny Lenox of New 
 York ceased to exist, and a new man took 
 his place Young VB, of Clear River County, 
 Colorado. 
 
 "Who s your new hand?" a passing rider asked 
 Jed one morning, watching with interest as the 
 stranger practiced with a rope in the corral. 
 
 "Well, sir, he s th ridin est tenderfoot you 
 ever see!" Jed boasted. "I picked him up out 
 at Colt an put him to work after Charley 
 went away." 
 
 Where d he come from ? What s his name ? 
 the other insisted. 
 
 "From all appearances, he ain t of these parts," 
 replied Jed, squinting at a distant peak. "An 
 around here we ve got to callin him Young 
 VB." 
 
 The rider, going south, told a man he met 
 that Jed had bestowed his brand on a human of 
 another generation. Later, he told it in Ranger. 
 The man he met on the road told it on Sand Creek ; 
 those who heard it in Ranger bore it off into the 
 hills, for even such a small bit of news is a meaty 
 morsel for those who sit in the same small com 
 pany about bunk-house stoves months on end.
 
 9 o "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 The boy became known by name about the coun 
 try, and those who met him told others what the 
 stranger was like. Men were attracted by his 
 simplicity, his desire to learn, by his frank im 
 pulse to be himself yet of them. 
 
 "Oh, yes, he s th feller," they would recall, 
 and then recite with the variations that travel 
 gives to tales the incident that transpired in the 
 Anchor bunk house. 
 
 Young VB fitted smoothly into the work of 
 the ranch. He learned to ride, to rope, to shoot, 
 to cook, and to meet the exigencies of the range; 
 he learned the country, cultivated the instinct 
 of directions. And, above all, he learned to 
 love more than ever the little old man who 
 fathered and tutored him. 
 
 And Young VB became truly useful. It was 
 not all smooth progress. At times and they 
 were not infrequent the thirst came on him 
 with vicious force, as though it would tear his 
 will out by the roots. 
 
 The fever which that first run after the Cap 
 tain aroused, and which made him stronger than 
 doubtings, could not endure without faltering. 
 The ideal was ever there, but at times so elusive! 
 Then the temptings came, and he had to fight 
 silently, doggedly. 
 
 Some of these attacks left him shaking in spite 
 of his mending nerves left him white in spite 
 of the brown that sun and wind put on him. 
 During the daytime it was bad enough, but
 
 WITH HOOF AND TOOTH 91 
 
 when he woke in the night, sleep broken sharply, 
 and raised unsteady hands to his begging throat, 
 there was not the assuring word from Jed, or 
 the comfort of his companionship. 
 
 The old man took a lasting pride in Danny s 
 adaptability. His comments were few indeed, 
 but when the boy came in after a day of hard, 
 rough, effective toil, having done all that a son 
 of the hills could be expected to do, the little 
 man whistled and sang as though the greatest 
 good fortune in the world had come to him. 
 
 One morning Jed went to the corral to find VB 
 snubbing up an unbroken sorrel horse they had 
 brought in the day before. He watched from 
 a distance, while the young man, after many 
 trials, got a saddle on the animal s back. 
 
 "Think you can?" he asked, his eyes twinkling, 
 as he crawled up on the aspen poles to watch. 
 
 "I don t know, Jed, but it s time I found out!" 
 was the answer, and in it was a click of steely 
 determination. 
 
 It was not a nice ride, not even for the short 
 time it lasted. Young VB "went and got it" 
 early in the melee. He clung desperately to the 
 saddle horn with one hand, but with the other 
 he plied his quirt and between every plunge his 
 spurs raked the sides of the bucking beast. 
 
 He did not know the art of such riding, but 
 the courage was there and when he was thrown 
 it was only at the moment when the sorrel put 
 into the battle his best.
 
 92 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 VB got to his feet and wiped the dust from his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Hurt?" asked Jed. 
 
 "Nothing but my pride," muttered the boy. 
 He grasped the saddle again, got one foot in the 
 stirrup, and, after being dragged around the 
 inclosure, got to the seat. 
 
 Again he was thrown, and when he arose and 
 made for the horse a third time Jed slipped down 
 from the fence to intervene. 
 
 "Not again to-day," he said, with a pride that 
 he could not suppress. "Take it easy; try him 
 again to-morrow." 
 
 "But I don t want to give up!" protested the 
 boy. "I can ride that horse." 
 
 "You ain t givin up; I made you," the other 
 smiled. "You ought to have been born in the 
 hills. You d have made a fine bronc twister. 
 Ain t it a shame th way men are wasted just by 
 bein born out of place?" 
 
 VB seemed not to hear. He rubbed the nose 
 of the frantic horse a moment, then said: 
 
 " If I could get this near the Captain Jed, 
 if I could ever get a leg over that stallion he d 
 be mine or I d die trying!" 
 
 "Still thinkin of him?" 
 
 "All the time! I never forget him. That 
 fellow has got into my blood. He s the biggest 
 thing in this country the strongest and I 
 want to show him that there s something a little 
 stronger, something that can break the power
 
 WITH HOOF AND TOOTH 93 
 
 he s held so long and that I am that some 
 thing!" 
 
 "That s considerable ambition," Jed said, 
 casually, though he wanted to hug the boy. 
 
 "I know it. Most people out here would think 
 me a fool if they heard me talk this way. Me, 
 a greenhorn, a tenderfoot, talking crazily about 
 doing what not one of you has ever been able 
 to do!" 
 
 "Not exactly, VB. It s th wantin to do 
 things bad enough that makes men do em, 
 remember. This feller busted you twice, but 
 you ve got th stuff under your belt that makes 
 horses behave. That s th only stuff that ll 
 ever make th Captain anything but th wild 
 thing he is now. Sand! Grit! Th wantin to 
 do it!" 
 
 A cautious whistle from Jed that afternoon 
 called VB into a thicket of low trees, from where 
 he looked down on a scene that drove home 
 even more forcibly the knowledge of the strength 
 of spirit that was incased in the glossy coat of 
 the great stallion. 
 
 "Look!" the old man said in a low voice, 
 pointing into the gulch. " It s a Percheron 
 one of Thorpe s stallions. He s come into th 
 Captain s band an they re goin to fight!" 
 
 VB looked down on the huge gray horse, 
 heavier by three hundred pounds than the black, 
 stepping proudly along over the rough gulch 
 bottom, tossing his head, twisting it about on
 
 94 -I CONQUERED" 
 
 his neck, his ears fiat, his tail switching savagely. 
 
 Up the far rise huddled the mares. The Cap 
 tain was driving the last of them into the bunch 
 as VB came in sight. That done, he turned to 
 watch the coming of the gray. 
 
 Through the stillness the low, malicious, muf 
 fled crying of the Percheron came to them clearly 
 as he pranced slowly along, parading his graces 
 for the mares up there, displaying his strength 
 to their master, who must come down and battle 
 for his sovereignty. 
 
 The Captain stood and watched as though 
 mildly curious, standing close to his mares. His 
 tail moved slowly, easily, from side to side. His 
 ears, which had been stiffly set forward at first, 
 slowly dropped back. 
 
 The gray drew nearer, to within fifty yards, 
 forty, thirty. He paused, pawed the ground, 
 and sent a great puff of dust out behind him. 
 
 Then he swung to the left and struck up the 
 incline, headed directly for the Captain, striding 
 forward to humble him under the very noses of 
 his mares the band that would be the prize 
 of that coming conflict! 
 
 He stopped again and pawed spitefully. He 
 rose on his hind legs slowly, head shaking, fore 
 feet waving in the air, as though flexing his 
 muscles before putting them to the strain of 
 combat. 
 
 He settled to the ground barely in time, for 
 with a scream of rage the black horse hurtled.
 
 WITH HOOF AND TOOTH 95 
 
 He seemed to be under full speed at the first 
 leap, and the speed was terrific! 
 
 Foam had gathered on his lips, and the rush 
 down the pitch flung it spattering against his 
 glossy chest. His shrilling did not cease from 
 the time he left his tracks until, with front hoofs 
 raised, a catapult of living, quivering hate, he 
 hurled himself at the gray. It ended then in 
 a wail of frenzy not of fear, but of royal rage 
 at the thought of any creature offering challenge! 
 
 The gray dropped back to all fours, whirled 
 sharply, and took the impact at a glancing blow, 
 a hip cringing low as the ragged hoofs of the black 
 crashed upon it. The Captain stuck his feet 
 stiffly into the ground, plowing great ruts in the 
 earth in his efforts to stop and turn and meet 
 the rush of the other, as he recovered from the 
 first shock, gathered headway, and bore down 
 on him. He overcame his momentum, turning 
 as he came to a stop, lifted his voice again, and 
 rose high to meet hoof for hoof the ponderous 
 attack that the bigger animal turned on him. 
 
 The men above heard the crash of their meeting. 
 The impact of flesh against flesh was terrific. 
 For the catch of an instant the horses seemed 
 to poise, the Captain holding against the fury 
 that had come upon him, holding even against 
 the odds of lightness and up-hill fighting. Then 
 they swayed to one side, and VB uttered a low 
 cry of joy as the Captain s teeth buried them 
 selves in the back of the Percheron s neck.
 
 96 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 Close together then they fought, throwing 
 dirt and stones, ripping up the brush as their 
 rumbling feet found fresh hold and then tore 
 away the earth under the might that was brought 
 to bear in the assault and resistance. A dozen 
 times they rushed upon each other, a dozen 
 times they parted and raised for fresh attack. 
 And each time the gray body and the black 
 met in smacking crash it was the former that 
 gave way, notwithstanding his superior weight. 
 
 "Look at him!" whispered Jed. "Look at 
 that cuss! He hates that gray so that he s got 
 th fear of death in him! Look at them ears! 
 Hear him holler! He s too quick. Too quick, 
 an he s got th spirit that makes up th difference 
 in weight an more, too!" 
 
 He stopped with a gasp as the Captain, catch 
 ing the other off balance, smote him on the ribs 
 with his hoofs until the blows sounded like the 
 rumble of a drum. The challenger threw up his 
 head in agony and cringed beneath the torment, 
 running side wise with bungling feet. 
 
 "He like to broke his back!" cried Jed. 
 
 "And look at him bite!" whispered VB. 
 
 The Captain tore at the shoulders and neck 
 of the gray horse with his gleaming, malevolent 
 teeth. Again and again they found fleshhold, 
 and his neck bowed with the strength he put 
 into the wrenching, while his feet kept up their 
 terrific hammering. 
 
 No pride of challenge in the gray now; no
 
 WITH HOOF AND TOOTH 97 
 
 display of graces for the onlooking mares; no 
 attacking; just impotent resistance, as the 
 Captain drove him on and on down the gulch, 
 humbled, terrified, routed. 
 
 The sounds of conflict became fainter as the 
 Percheron strove to make his escape and the 
 Captain relentlessly followed him, the desire to 
 kill crying from his every line. 
 
 The battling beasts rounded a point of rocks, 
 and the two men sprang to their horses to follow 
 the moving fight. But they were no more than 
 mounted when the Captain came back, swinging 
 along in his wonderful trot, ears still flat, head 
 still shaking, anger possessing him anger and 
 pride. 
 
 He was unmarked by the conflict, save with 
 sweat and dust and foam; he was still possessed 
 of his superb strength. He went up the pitch 
 to his band with all the vigor of stride he had 
 displayed in flying from it to answer the presump 
 tion of the gray. And the mares, watching him, 
 seemed to draw long breaths, dropped their 
 heads to the bunch grass, and, one by one, moved 
 along in their grazing. 
 
 Jed looked at VB. What he saw in the boy s 
 face made him nod his head slowly in affirmation. 
 
 "You re that sort, too," he whispered exult- 
 ingly. "You re that sort! His kind!"
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A HEAD OF YELLOW HAIR 
 
 HP HE next day Jed declared for a trip to Ranger 
 * after grub. The trip was necessary, and it 
 would be an education for VB, he said with a 
 chuckle, to see the town. But when they were 
 ready to start a rider approached the ranch. 
 
 "If it ain t Kelly!" Jed cried. Then, in expla 
 nation: "He s a horse buyer, an must be comin 
 to see me." 
 
 And the man s desire to look over the VB stuff 
 was so strong that Jed declared it would be busi 
 ness for him to stay at home. 
 
 In a way, Danny was glad of the opportunity 
 to go alone. It fed the glowing pride in his 
 ability to do things, to be of use, and after a short 
 interchange of drolleries with the man Kelly, 
 whom he instinctively liked, the boy mounted 
 to the high wagon seat and drove off down the 
 gulch. 
 
 It was a long drive, and hours alone are con 
 ducive to thought. Danny s mind went back 
 over the days that had passed, wandering along 
 those paths he had followed since that July 
 morning in the luxuriously dim house on River 
 side Drive. And the reason for his departing 
 from the old way came back to him now, because 
 
 98
 
 A HEAD OF YELLOW HAIR 99 
 
 he was alone, with nothing to divert his attention. 
 The old turbulence arose; it wore and wore with 
 the miles, eating down to his will, teasing, coax 
 ing, threatening, pleading, fuming. 
 
 "Will it always be so?" he asked the distances. 
 "When it comes to challenge me, to take away 
 all that I hold dear, shall I always be afraid? 
 Shan t I be able to stand and fight and triumph, 
 merely raging because it dares tempt me instead 
 of fearing this thing itself?" 
 
 And he spoke as he thought in terms of his 
 ideal, as materialized in the Captain. 
 
 "But will it always be so with him?" he asked 
 again. "Won t some horse come to challenge 
 him some day and batter him down and make 
 defeat all the more bitter because of the suprem 
 acy he has enjoyed? Would it then be worth 
 the candle?" 
 
 And as he bowed his head he thought once more 
 of the beacon in the bottle, corking it up, driving 
 back the shadows, making a livable place in the 
 darkness. 
 
 Nothing is ever intrinsically curious. Curi- 
 ousness comes solely from relationships. Time 
 and place are the great factors in creating oddi 
 ties. Five miles farther on VB saw a curious 
 thing. This was at the forks of the road. To his 
 right it went off behind the long, rocky point 
 toward Sand Creek; to the left it wandered 
 through the sage brush over toward the S Bar S
 
 ioo "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 Ranch, and ahead it ran straight on to Ranger. 
 
 Along the prong that twisted to the left went 
 an automobile. Nothing curious about that to 
 VB, for many times he had seen Bob Thorpe 
 driving his car through the country. 
 
 But at the wheel was a lone figure crowned by 
 a mass of yellow hair. That was the curious 
 thing he saw! 
 
 All VB could distinguish at that distance with 
 his hot eyes was yellow hair. The machine 
 picked its way carefully along the primitive road, 
 checking down here, shooting ahead there, going 
 on toward the horizon, bearing the yellow 
 hair away from him, until it was only a crawling 
 thing with a long, floating tail of dust. But 
 it seemed to him he could still make out that 
 bright fleck even after the automobile had become 
 indistinguishable. 
 
 "She s alone," muttered VB. "She s driving 
 that car alone and out here!" 
 
 Then he wondered with a laugh why he should 
 think it so strange. Many times he had ridden 
 down Fifth Avenue in the afternoon traffic 
 congestion beside a woman who piloted her own 
 car. Surely the few hazards of this thorough 
 fare were not to be compared with that! 
 
 But it was the incongruity which his associa 
 tion of ideas brought up that made him tingle 
 a little. That hair! It did not belong out here. 
 He had not been near enough to see the girl s 
 face he was sure it was a girl, not a grown 
 
 CALIFORNIA WESTERN UNIVERSITY 
 RYAN LIBRARY
 
 A HEAD OF YELLOW HAIR 101 
 
 woman but the color of her crowning adorn 
 ment suggested many and definite things. And 
 those things were not of these waste places ; were 
 not rough and primal. They were finer, higher. 
 
 Once before he had experienced this nameless, 
 pleasurable sensation of being familiar with the 
 unknown. That had been when Jed had sketched 
 with a dozen unrelated words a picture of the 
 daughter of the house of Thorpe. 
 
 The motor car with its fair-haired pilot had 
 been gone an hour when Danny, watching a 
 coyote skulk among distant rocks, said aloud: 
 East college I 11 bet I I wonder " 
 
 Dusk had come w r hen Young VB entered 
 Ranger and put up at the ranch, which made as 
 much pretense of buildings as did the town itself. 
 Morning found him weak and drawn, as it alw-ays 
 did after a night of the conflict, yet he was up 
 with the sun, eager to be through with his task 
 and back with Jed. 
 
 Purchasing supplies is something of a rite in 
 Ranger, and under other conditions, on another 
 day perhaps, it might have amused VB ; but with 
 the unrest within him he found little about the 
 procedure that did not irritate. 
 
 In the store there one may buy everything in 
 hardware from safety pins to trace chains; gro 
 ceries range from canned soup to wormy nuts; 
 in drugs anything, bounded on one end by horse 
 liniment and on the other extreme by eye-drops 
 guaranteed to prevent cataracts, is for sale; and
 
 io2 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 overalls and sewing silk are alike popular com 
 modities. All is in fine order, and the manager 
 is a walking catalogue of household necessities. 
 
 VB was relieved when the buying had been 
 accomplished. He crowded a can of ten-cent 
 tobacco into the pocket of his new overalls and 
 started for the team. A dozen strides away from 
 the store building he paused to look about. It 
 was his first inspection of Ranger in daylight, 
 and now as he surveyed its extent his sense of 
 humor rose above the storm within him, and 
 he grinned. 
 
 The store, with its conventional false front, 
 stood beside the post office, which was built as 
 a lean-to. Next to it was a building of red corru 
 gated iron, and sounds of blacksmithing issued 
 from it. Behind VB was a tiny house, with a 
 path running from it to the store, the home of 
 the manager. Next it a log cabin. Down at 
 the left, near the river, was another house, 
 deserted, the ranch where he had stayed, and 
 beyond it a trio of small shacks on the river bank. 
 
 "Ranger," he muttered, and chuckled. 
 
 The road, brown and soft with fine dust, 
 stretched on and on toward Utah, off to the west 
 where silence was supreme. 
 
 The buildings were all on the north side of the 
 road. 
 
 "A south front was the idea, I suppose," VB 
 murmured. "Mere matter of " 
 
 His gaze had traveled across the road to a
 
 A HEAD OF YELLOW HAIR 103 
 
 lone building erected there, far back against a 
 sharp rise of ground. It stood apart, as though 
 consciously aloof from the rest, a one-story struc 
 ture, and across its front a huge white sign, on 
 which in black characters was painted the word: 
 
 SALOON 
 
 Unconsciously his tongue came out to wet the 
 parched lips and his fingers plucked at the seams 
 of the new overalls. 
 
 Why not? the insidious self argued, why not? 
 All changes must come gradually. Nothing can 
 be accomplished in a moment. Just one drink 
 to cool his throat, to steady his nerves, and brace 
 him for the fight he would make later. 
 
 As he stood there listening to that inner voice, 
 yet holding it off, he did not hear the fall of hoofs 
 behind him or the jingle of spurs as a rider dis 
 mounted and approached. 
 
 But he did hear the voice drawling, nasty, 
 jeering : 
 
 "Was you considerin havin a bit o refresh 
 ment, stranger?" 
 
 VB wheeled quickly and looked straight into 
 the gieen glitter of Rhues s red-lidded eyes. 
 The cruel mouth was stretched in an angular 
 grin, and the whole countenance expressed the 
 incarnate spirit of the bully.
 
 io 4 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 Into Danny s mind leaped the idea that this 
 thing before him, this evil-eyed, jeering, leering, 
 daring being, typified all that was foul in his 
 heart just as the Captain typified all that was 
 virtuous. 
 
 The intuitive repulsion surged to militant hate. 
 He wanted to smother the breath which kept 
 alive such a spirit, wanted to stamp into the dust 
 the body that housed it because it mocked 
 him and tempted him! But Young VB only 
 turned and brushed past the man without a word. 
 
 He heard Rhues s laughter behind him, and 
 heard him call : Ranger ain t no eastern Sunday 
 school. Better have one an be a man, like th 
 rest o th boys!" 
 
 However, when Rhues turned back to his 
 pony the laugh was gone and he was puzzling 
 over something. After he had mounted, he 
 looked after the boy again maliciously. 
 
 VB was on the road in half an hour, driving 
 the horses as fast as he dared. He wanted to be 
 back in Jed s cabin, away from Ranger. This 
 thing had followed him across the country to 
 Colt; from Colt to the Anchor; and now It lurked 
 for him in Ranger. The ranch was his haven. 
 
 The settlement by the river reached its claws 
 after him as he drove, fastening them in his 
 throat and shaking his will until it seemed as 
 though it had reached the limit of its endurance. 
 
 It was dark when he reached home. A mile 
 away he had seen the light and smiled weakly
 
 A HEAD OF YELLOW HAIR 105 
 
 at thought of it, and the horses, more than willing, 
 carried the wagon over the remaining distance 
 with a bouncing that threatened its contents. 
 
 When VB pulled up before the outer gate Jed 
 hurried from the cabin. 
 
 "VB," he called, "are you all right?" 
 
 "All right, Jed," he answered, dropping from 
 the seat. 
 
 And the boy thought he heard the older man 
 thank his God. 
 
 Without words, they unharnessed and went 
 to the cabin. Kelly was sleeping loudly in the 
 adjoining room. The table had been moved 
 from its usual place nearer to the window, and 
 the bottle with its burning candle was close against 
 the pane. Jed looked at the candle, than at VB. 
 
 "I m sorry," he said, seeing the strain about 
 the boy s mouth. "I never thought about it 
 until come night, Young VB. I never thought 
 about it. I I guess I m an old fool, gettin 
 scared th way I do. So I shoved this candle 
 up against th window because I m an old 
 fool and thought it might help a little." 
 
 And VB answered: "It does help, Jed! Every 
 little thing helps. And oh, God, how I need it!" 
 
 He turned away.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 PURSUIT 
 
 OUMMER drew toward its close and the work 
 *J became more exacting. Jed was sure that 
 more of his colts ran the range without brands, 
 and the two rode constantly, searching every 
 gulch and break for the strays. One day they 
 went far to the east, and at noon encountered 
 three of Bob Thorpe s men building fence. 
 
 "It s his new drift fence," Jed explained. 
 "He s goin to have a lot of winter pasture, to be 
 sure he is. It ll help us, too. When we come 
 takin these here willow tails off this ridge they ll 
 find somethin new. It s so close up to the foot 
 of the rise that they can t jump it." 
 
 "Thorpe must be rich," remarked Young VB 
 as they went on along the fence. 
 
 "Rich don t say it! He s rollin in money, 
 an he sure knows how to enjoy it. Every winter, 
 when things gets squared away, he takes his wife 
 an goes to California. I s pose he ll be takin 
 his girl, too now that she s quit goin to school." 
 
 The boy wanted to ask questions about this 
 daughter of Bob Thorpe s, but a diffidence, for 
 which there was no accounting, held him back. 
 He was curious as he had been whenever he heard 
 of or thought of her, and as he had been when he 
 
 106
 
 PURSUIT 107 
 
 had once seen her. But somehow he did not care 
 to admit that curiosity even to Jed, and when he 
 tried to analyze the reason for his reticence there 
 was no doing so. 
 
 Now came more knowledge of the waste places 
 with weeks of riding; more knowledge of the 
 barren area in his own heart with self-study; 
 more pertinent, that which the Captain typified. 
 
 And all the time that struggle continued, which 
 at times seemed only the hopeless floundering 
 of a man in quicksands life on the river bank 
 so close; death below, certain, mocking his 
 efforts. 
 
 "He has faith in himself because he is physi 
 cally equipped," VB murmured one day as he 
 saw the Captain standing against the sky on a 
 distant ridge. "His belief in himself is justified. 
 But. I what do I know about my own capa 
 bilities?" 
 
 Yet a latent quality in the boy was the sort 
 that offsets doubts, else why this emulation of the 
 stallion, why this feeling that was almost love, 
 constant, always growing, never hesitating ? 
 
 Like most men, Young VB was unprepared for 
 the big moments of his life. Could we only 
 foresee them, is the plaint of men! Could we 
 only know and go out to meet them in spirit 
 proper! And yet that very state of preparation 
 might take from the all-encompassing grandeur 
 of those passages a potent element.
 
 io8 _I CONQUERED" 
 
 After all, this scheme of things has its com 
 pensations, and inability to foretell the future 
 may be one of the greatest. 
 
 With fear in his heart and black discourage 
 ment and lack of faith, Young VB went out to 
 meet what proved to be his first great moment. 
 
 Jed had gone to the railroad, bound for the 
 Springs, to untangle a mess of red tape that had 
 snarled about his filing on some land. VB was 
 left alone, and for days the young fellow saw no 
 one. In the natural loneliness that followed, the 
 assault came upon him with manifold force. He 
 could not sleep, could not eat, could not remain 
 in one place or keep his mind on a fixed purpose. 
 
 He walked about, talking to himself in the 
 .silence, trying ineffectually to do the necessary 
 work of the ranch, trying to stifle the loud voice 
 that begged him to forego all the struggle and 
 let his impulses carry him where they would. 
 
 But were not his impulses carrying him? 
 Was it not his first impulse to go on with the 
 fight? He did not think of that. 
 
 At times it was hard indeed to differentiate 
 between the real and the unreal. The voice 
 that wheedled was such a twister of words and 
 terms, and its ally, the thirst, raged with such 
 virility that he was forced to do something with 
 his body. To remain an unresisting victim to 
 the torture would only invite disaster. 
 
 Throwing a saddle on his "top" horse, Young 
 VB set out, leaving the half -prepared dinner as
 
 PURSUIT 109 
 
 it was, unable even to wait for food. He rode 
 swiftly up the gulch to where it forked, and then 
 to the right, letting the stanch animal under 
 him cover the ground at a swinging trot. In 
 three hours he was miles from the ranch, far 
 back in the hills, and climbing to the top of a 
 stretching ridge. He breathed through his mouth, 
 to let the air on his burning throat, and twisted 
 his bridle reins until the stout leather was mis 
 shapen, utterly lost in the conflict which went 
 on within, heedless cf all else. 
 
 Suddenly he realized that his horse had come 
 a long distance without rest. He dismounted in 
 a thicket of cedars, sharply repentant that his 
 own torment had led him to forget the beast 
 that served him, and even the distraction of 
 that concern brought relief. 
 
 With the cinch eased the horse stood and 
 breathed gratefully. But he was not fagged, 
 he was still alert and eager. His ears were set 
 stiffly forward, and he gazed upwind, sniffing 
 softly now and then. 
 
 "What you see, cayuse?" VB asked, trying 
 to make out the cause of that attentiveness. 
 
 Again the sniffing, and of a sudden the horse 
 froze, stopped his breathing, and VB, a hand 
 on the beast s hip, felt a quick tremor run through 
 him. 
 
 Then the man saw that which had caused the 
 animal to tremble, and the sight set him tingling 
 just as it always did.
 
 no "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 A hundred yards up the ridge, sharp against 
 the sky, commanding, watchful, stood the Cap 
 tain. He had not seen or scented VB, for he 
 looked in other directions, moving his head from 
 point to point, scanning every nook of the coun 
 try below him. Something mannish there was 
 about that beast, a comprehensive, planned vigi 
 lance. Down below him in a sag fed the mares. 
 
 As VB looked at that watcher he felt the lust 
 to possess crawling up, surging through him, 
 blotting out that other desire, that torment, 
 making his breath congest, making his mouth 
 dry. He tightened his cinch and mounted. 
 
 The Captain did not see VB until the rider 
 came clear of the cover in which he had halted. 
 
 For the instant only, as the rushing horseman 
 broke through the cedars, a scudding, fluttering 
 object hurtling across the low brush, the black 
 stallion stood as though his feet were imbedded 
 in the rock under him, his head full toward the 
 rushing rider, nose up, astonishment in the very 
 angle of his stiff ears. Then those ears went 
 flat; the sleek body pivoted on its dainty hind 
 feet, and a scream of angered warning came 
 from the long throat. 
 
 Even as the Captain s front hoofs clawed the 
 ground in his first leap, the mares were running. 
 They drew close together, frightened by the 
 abruptness of the alarm, scuttling away from the 
 punishment they knew would be coming from, 
 their master if they wasted seconds.
 
 PURSUIT in 
 
 VB was possessed again. His reason told him 
 that a single horseman had no chance in the 
 world with that bunch, that he could not hope 
 to keep up even long enough to scatter the band, 
 that he would only run his mount down, good 
 horse that he was. But the lust urged him on, 
 tugging at his vitals, and he gave vent to his 
 excitement in sharp screams of joy, the joy of 
 the hunt and the joy of honest attempt at 
 supreme accomplishment. 
 
 The dust trailed behind the bunch, enveloping 
 the rushing Captain in a dun mantle, finally to 
 be whipped away by the breeze. They tore 
 down stiff sagebrush in their flight; and so great 
 was the strain that their bellies skimmed incred 
 ibly close to the ground. 
 
 VB s horse caught the spirit of the chase, as 
 do all animals when they follow their kind. He 
 extended himself to the last fiber, and with aston 
 ishment a glad astonishment that brought a 
 whoop of triumph the boy saw that the mares 
 were not drawing away that he was crawling 
 up on them! 
 
 But the Captain! Ah, he was running away 
 from the man who gave chase, was putting more 
 distance between them at every thundering leap, 
 was drawing closer to his slower mares, lip 
 stretched back over his gleaming teeth, jaws 
 working as he strained to reach them and make 
 that band go still faster. 
 
 VB s quirt commenced to sing its goading tune,
 
 ri2 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 slashing first on one side, then on the other. He 
 hung far forward over the fork of his saddle, 
 leaning low to offer the least possible resistance 
 to the wind. Now and then he called aloud to 
 his pony, swearing with glad savagery. 
 
 The Captain reached his bunch, closing in on 
 them with a burst of speed that seemed beyond 
 the abilities of blood and bone. The man behind 
 thought he heard those long teeth pop as they 
 caught the rump of a scurrying mare; surely he 
 heard the stallion s scream of rage as, after 
 nipping mare after mare, running to and fro 
 behind them, he found that they had opened 
 their hearts to the last limit and could go no 
 faster. They could not do it and the rider 
 behind was crawling up, jump for jump, gaining 
 a yard, losing a foot, gaining again, steadily, 
 relentlessly. 
 
 VB did not know that Kelly, the horse buyer, 
 and one of Dick Worth s riders had given the 
 outlaws a long, tedious race that morning as they 
 were coming in from the dry country to the 
 west for water and better feed. He did not 
 know that the band had been filling their bellies 
 with great quantities of water, crowding them 
 still more with grasses, until there was no room 
 left for the working of lungs, for the stretching 
 of taxed muscles. 
 
 He saw only the one fact : that he was gaining 
 on the Captain. He did not stop even to con 
 sider the obvious ending of such a chase. He
 
 PURSUIT 113 
 
 might scatter the band, but what of it? When 
 the last hope had been cast the Captain would 
 strike out alone, would turn all the energy that 
 now went to driving his mares to making good 
 his own escape, and then there would be no more 
 race just a widening of a breach that could not 
 be closed. 
 
 But VB did not think of anything beyond the 
 next stride. His mind was possessed with the 
 idea that every leap of the laboring beast under 
 him must bring him closer to the huddle of 
 frantic horses, nearer to the flying hindquarters 
 of the jet leader who tried so hard to make his 
 authority override circumstance. 
 
 The slashing of the quirt became more vicious. 
 VB strained farther forward. His lips were 
 parted, his eyes strained open with excitement, 
 and the tears started by that rushing streamed 
 over his cheeks. 
 
 "E-e-eyah!" he shrieked. 
 
 The buckskin mare found a hole. Her hind 
 legs went into the air, sticking toward the sky 
 above that thundering clump of tossing, rushing 
 bodies with its fringes of fluttering hair. Her 
 legs seemed to poise a moment; then they went 
 down slowly. The Captain leaped her prostrate 
 body, to sink his teeth into the flank of a sorrel 
 that lagged half a length behind the others. 
 
 VB passed so near the buckskin as she gained 
 her faltering feet that he could have slashed her 
 with his quirt. Yet he had no eyes for her, had 
 
 8
 
 ii4 I CONQUERED" 
 
 no heed for any of the mares. He was playing 
 for the bigger game. 
 
 The sorrel quit, unable to respond to that 
 punishment, fearful of her master. She angled 
 off to the right, to be rid of him, and disappeared 
 through a clump of trees. The stallion shrilled 
 his anger and disgust, slowing his gallop a half- 
 dozen jumps as though he wanted to follow and 
 punish her cruelly. 
 
 Then he glanced backward, threw his nose 
 in the air and, stretching to his own tremendous 
 speed again, stormed on. 
 
 The huddle of mares became less compact, 
 seemed to lose also its unity of purpose. The 
 Captain had more to do. His trips from flank 
 to flank of the band were longer. By the time 
 he had spurred the gray at the left back into 
 the lead the brown three-year-old on the other 
 wing was a loiterer by a length. Then, when 
 she was sent ahead, the gray was lagging again. 
 And another by her side, perhaps. 
 
 "E-e-eyah!" 
 
 VB s throat was raw from the screaming, but 
 he did not know it no more than he knew that 
 his hat was gone or that his nerves still yearned 
 for their stinging stimulant. 
 
 The cry, coming again and again, worried the 
 Captain. Each time it crackled from VB s lips 
 the black nose was flung high and an eye which 
 glared orange hate even at that distance rolled 
 back to watch this yelling pursuer.
 
 PURSUIT 115 
 
 VB saw, and began to shout words at the ani 
 mal, to cry his challenge, to curse. 
 
 The galloping gray quit, without an attempt 
 to rally. The Captain brought to bear a terrific 
 punishment, dropping back to within thirty 
 yards of the man who pressed him, but it was 
 useless, for she was spent. The water and 
 luscious grass in her dammed up the reservoirs 
 of her vitality, would not let her respond. When 
 the stallion gave her up and tore on after the 
 others she dropped even her floundering gallop, 
 and as VB raced past her he heard the breath 
 sob down her throat. 
 
 On and across they tore, dropping into sags of 
 the ridge, climbing sharp little pitches, swinging 
 now to the right and bending back to the left 
 again in a sweeping curve. The uneven galloping 
 of the horse under him, the gulps for breath the 
 pony made as the footing fooled him and he 
 jolted sharply, the shiftings and duckings and 
 quick turnings as they stormed through groups 
 of trees, the rattle of brush as it smote his boot 
 toes and stirrups were all unheeded by VB. 
 
 Once his shoulder met a tough cedar bough, 
 and the blow wrenched it from its trunk. His 
 face w r as whipped to rawness by smaller branches, 
 and one knee throbbed dully where it had skimmed 
 a bowlder as they shot past. But he saw only 
 that floundering band ahead. 
 
 The buckskin was gone, the sorrel, the gray; 
 next, two mares quit together, and the Captain,
 
 n6 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 seeing them go, did not slacken his speed, did not 
 even scream his rage. Only four remained, and 
 he gambled on them as against the slight chance 
 of recovering any of those others ; for that scream 
 ing rider was closing in on him all the time. 
 
 Oh, water and grass! How necessary both are 
 to life, but how dangerous at a time like this! 
 Pop-pop! The teeth closed on those running 
 hips. The vainness of it all! They could go no 
 faster. They had tried first from instinct, then 
 from willingness; now they tried from fear as 
 their lord tortured them. But though the will 
 was there, the ability could not come, not even 
 when the Captain pushed through them, and in 
 a desperate maneuver set the pace, showing them 
 his fine heels and clean limbs, demonstrating how 
 easy it was to go on and on and draw away from 
 that rider who tugged at his muffler that wind 
 might find and cool his throat, burning now from 
 unalloyed hope. 
 
 And so VB, the newest horse runner on the 
 range, scattered the Captain s band, accomplish 
 ing all that the best of the men who rode that 
 country had ever been able to boast. 
 
 The stallion tried once more to rally his mates 
 into escape, but their hearts were bursting, their 
 lungs clogged. They could do no more. 
 
 Then away he went alone, head high and turning 
 from side to side, mane flaunting, tail trailing grace 
 fully behind him, beauty in every regal line and 
 curve, majestic superiority in each stride he took.
 
 PURSUIT 117 
 
 He raced off into the country that stretched 
 eastward, the loser for the time of one set of con 
 quests but free free to go on and make himself 
 more high, more powerful, more a thing to be 
 emulated even by man. 
 
 He ran lightly, evenly, without effort, and the 
 gap between him and the rider behind, narrowed 
 by such tremendous exertion from that lathered 
 pony, widened with scarce an added effort. 
 
 But VB went on, driving his reeking pony merci 
 lessly. He had ceased yelling now. His face was 
 set; blood that had been whipped into it by his 
 frenzy, by the rushing of the wind, by the smiting 
 of branches, left the skin. It became white, and 
 from that visage two eyes glowed abnormally 
 brilliant. For the Captain was taking off the 
 ridge where it bent and struck into the north, was 
 plunging down over the pitch into the shadows. 
 He was going his best, in long, keen strides that 
 would carry him to the bottom with a momentum 
 so tremendous that on the flat he would be run 
 ning himself into a blur. And VB s face was 
 colorless, with eyes brilliant, because he knew 
 that along the bottom of the drop ran the 
 new drift fence that Bob Thorpe s men were 
 erecting. 
 
 He began to plead with his pony, to talk to 
 him childishly, to beg him to keep his feet, to coax 
 him to last, to pray him to follow and in con 
 trol of himself, and on time! As they dropped 
 off the ridge, down through the sliding shale and
 
 n8 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 scattered brush, VB s right hand, upraised to 
 keep his balance, held the loop of his rope, and 
 the other, flung behind the cantle of his saddle, 
 grasped the coils of the sturdy hemp. 
 
 Oh, Captain, your speed was against you ! You 
 took off that ridge with those ground-covering 
 leaps, limbs flying, heart set on reaching the 
 bottom with a swirl of speed that would dis 
 hearten your follower. But you did not reckon on 
 an obstruction, on the thing your eyes encountered 
 when halfway down that height and going with 
 all the power within you. Those fresh posts and 
 the wires strung between them ! A fence ! Men 
 had invaded your territory with their barriers, and 
 at such a time! You knew, too, that there was 
 no jumping it; they had set the posts so far up 
 on the pitch that no take-off had been left. 
 
 So the Captain tried to stop. With haunches 
 far under him, front feet straight before, belly 
 scrubbing the brush, he battled to overcome the 
 awful impetus his body had received up above. 
 Sprawling, sliding, feet shooting in any direction 
 as the footing gave, he struggled to stop his 
 progress. It was no simple matter; indeed, 
 checking that flight was far more difficult than 
 the attaining of that speed. In the midst of roll 
 ing, bounding stones, sliding dust, breaking brush, 
 the great stallion gradually slowed his going. Slow 
 and more slowly he went on toward the bottom; 
 almost stopped, but still was unable to bring his 
 muscles into play for a dash to right or left
 
 PURSUIT 119 
 
 On behind, pony floundering in the wake of the 
 Captain, rode VB, right hand high, snapping 
 back and forth to hold him erect, rope dangling 
 from it crazily. He breathed through his mouth, 
 and at every exhalation his vocal chords vibrated. 
 
 Perhaps even then the Captain might have 
 won. The odds of the game were all against 
 him, it is true, for breaking down the pitch as 
 he did, it required longer for him to reach the 
 bottom in possession of his equilibrium than it 
 did the slower-moving horse that bore VB. It 
 would have been a tight squeeze for the horse, 
 but the man was in a poor position to cast his 
 loop with any degree of accuracy. 
 
 But a flat sliding stone discounted all other 
 factors. Nothing else mattered. The Captain 
 came to a stop, eyes wild, ears back. With a 
 slow-starting, mighty lunge, he made as though 
 to turn and race down along the line of fence 
 before VB could get within striking distance. 
 The great muscles contracted, his ragged hoofs 
 sought a hold. The hind legs straightened, that 
 mighty force bore on his footing and the stone 
 slipped! The Captain was outlucked. 
 
 His hind legs shot backward, staggering him. 
 His hindquarters slipped downhill, throwing his 
 head up to confront VB. His nostrils flared, 
 that orange hate in his eyes met the glow from 
 his pursuer s, who came down upon him only 
 half a dozen lengths away!
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 CAPTURE 
 
 IT does not take a horse that is bearing a rider 
 downhill an appreciable length of time to take 
 one more stride. Gravity does the work. The 
 horse jerks his fore legs from under his body and 
 then shoots them out again for fresh hold to keep 
 his downward progress within reason. 
 
 VB s pony went down the drop with much 
 more rapidity than safety, in short, jerky, stiff- 
 legged plunges, hindquarters scrooged far under 
 his body; alert, watching his footing, grunting 
 in his care not to take too great risks. 
 
 When the Captain, fooled by false footing, 
 was whirled about to face the down-coming rider, 
 the pony s fore feet had just drawn themselves 
 out of the way to let his body farther down the 
 slope. And when the sturdy legs again shot out 
 to strike rock and keep horse and VB upright, 
 the black stallion had started to wheel. But in 
 the split second which intervened between the 
 beginning and ending of that floundering jump, 
 eyes met eyes. The eyes of a man met the eyes 
 of a beast, and heart read heart. The eyes of a 
 man who had frittered his life, who had flaunted 
 his heritage of strength in body and bone until 
 he had become a weakling, a cringing, whining 
 
 120
 
 CAPTURE 121 
 
 center of abnormal nervous activities, fearing 
 himself, met the eyes of a beast that knew him 
 self to be a paragon of his kind, the final achieve 
 ment of his strain, a commanding force that had 
 never been curbed, that had defied alike his 
 own kingdom and the race from which had sprung 
 the being now confronting him. 
 
 The eyes of him who had been a weakling met 
 the eyes of that which had been superstrong 
 and without a waver; they held, they penetrated, 
 and, suddenly born from the purposeless life of 
 Danny Lenox, flamed Young VB s soul. All the 
 emulation, all the lust this beast before him had 
 roused in his heart, became amalgamated with 
 that part of him which subtly strove to drag 
 him away from debauchery, and upon those 
 blending elements of strength was set the lasting 
 stamp of his individuality. 
 
 His purpose flamed in his eyes and its light 
 was so great that the horse read, and, reading, 
 set his ears forward and screamed not so 
 much a scream of anger as of wondering terror. 
 For the beast caught the significance of that 
 splendid determination which made for conquest 
 with a power equal to his own strength, which 
 was making for escape. The telepathic com 
 munication from the one to the other was the 
 same force that sends a jungle king into antics 
 at the pleasure of his trainer the language that 
 transcends species! 
 
 The pony s hoofs dug shale once more, and the
 
 122 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 upraised right arm whipped about the tousled 
 head. The rope swished angrily as it slashed 
 the air. Once it circled and the Captain 
 jumped, lunging off to the left. Twice it cut its 
 disk and the stallion s quivering flanks gathered 
 for a second leap. It writhed; it stretched out 
 waveringly, seekingly, feelingly as though uncer 
 tain, almost blindly, but swiftly so swiftly ! 
 The loop flattened and spread and undulated, 
 drawing the long stretch of hemp after it teas- 
 ingly. It stopped, as though suddenly tired. 
 It poised with uncanny deliberation. Then, as 
 gently as a maiden s sigh, it settled settled 
 drooped and the Captain s nose, reaching out 
 for liberty, to be free of this man whose eyes 
 flamed a determination so stanch that it went 
 down to his beast heart, thrust itself plumb 
 through the middle. 
 
 The hoarse rip of the hard-twist coming through 
 its hondu, the whistle of breath from the man s 
 tight teeth, the rattle of stone on stone; then the 
 squeal from the stallion as for the first time in 
 his life a bond tightened on him! 
 
 He shook his head angrily, and even as he 
 leaped a third time back toward his free hills 
 one forefoot was raised to strike from him the 
 snaring strand. The pawing hoof did not reach 
 its mark, did not find the thin, lithe thing which 
 throttled down on him, for the Captain s momen 
 tum carried him to the end of the rope. 
 
 They put the strain on the hemp, both going
 
 CAPTURE 123 
 
 away, those horses. VB struggled with his 
 mount to have him ready for the shock, but 
 before he could bring about a full stop that 
 shock arrived. It seemed as though it would 
 tear the horn from the saddle. The pony, 
 sturdy little beast, was yanked to his knees and 
 swung half about, and VB recovered himself only 
 by grabbing the saddle fork. 
 
 The black stallion again faced the man 
 faced him because his heels had been cracked in 
 a semicircle through the air by the force of that 
 burning thing about his neck. For ten long 
 seconds the Captain stood braced against the 
 rope, moving his head slowly from side to side 
 for all the world as a refractory, gentled colt 
 might do, with as much display of fight as would 
 be shown by a mule that dissented at the idea 
 of being led across a ditch. He just stood there 
 stupidly, twisting his head. 
 
 The thick mane rumpled up under the tight 
 ening rope, some of the drenched hair of the neck 
 was pulled out as the hemp rolled upward, 
 drawing closer, shutting down and down. The 
 depression in the flesh grew deeper. One hind 
 foot lost its hold in the shale and shot out; the 
 Captain lifted it and moved it forward again 
 slowly, cautiously, for fresh, steady straining. 
 
 Then it came. The windpipe closed; he 
 coughed, and like the sudden fury of a moun 
 tain thunderstorm the Captain turned loose his 
 giant forces. The thing had jerked him back in
 
 124. "I CONQUERED" 
 
 his rush toward freedom. It held him where he 
 did not want to be held! And it choked! 
 
 Forefeet clawing, rearing to his hind legs with 
 a quivering strength of lift that dragged the 
 bracing pony through the shale, the great, black 
 horse-regal screamed and coughed his rage and 
 beat upon that vibrating strand which made him 
 prisoner that web that fragile thing ! 
 
 Again and again he struck it, but it only 
 danced only danced, and tightened its clutch 
 on his throat! He reached for it with his long 
 teeth and clamped them on it, but the thing 
 would not yield. He settled to all fours again, 
 threw his head from side to side, and strove 
 to move backward with a frenzied floundering 
 that sent the pebbles rattling yards about him. 
 
 It was a noble effort. Into the attempt to 
 drag away from that anchorage the Captain 
 put his very spirit. He struggled and choked 
 and strained. And all the time that man sat 
 there on his horse, tense, watching silently, mov 
 ing his free hand slightly to and fro, as though 
 beating time to music. His lips were parted, 
 his face still blanched. And in his eyes glowed 
 that purpose which knows no defeat! 
 
 System departed. Like a hot blast wickedness 
 came. Teeth bared, ears flat, with sounds like 
 an angered child s ranting coming from his 
 throat, the stallion charged his man enemy just 
 as he had charged the powerful Percheron who 
 had come to challenge him a month ago. The
 
 CAPTURE 125 
 
 saddle horse, seeing it, avoided the brunt of the 
 first blind rush, taking the Captain s shoulder 
 on his rump as the black hurtler went past, 
 striking thin air. 
 
 VB felt the Captain s breath, saw from close 
 up the lurid flame in his eyes, sensed the power 
 of those teeth, the sledge-hammer force behind 
 those untrimmed hoofs. And he came alive, 
 the blood shooting close under his skin again and 
 making the gray face bronze, then deeper than 
 bronze. His eyes puffed under the stress of that 
 emotion, and he felt a primitive desire to growl 
 as the Captain whirled and came again. It 
 was man to beast, and somewhere down yonder 
 through the generations a dead racial memory 
 came back and Young VB, girded for the conflict, 
 ached to have his forest foe in reach, to have 
 the fight run high, to have his chance to dare 
 and do in fleshly struggle! 
 
 It was not long in coming. The near hoof, strik 
 ing down to crush his chest, fell short, and the hair 
 of VB s chap leg went ripping from the leather, 
 while along his thigh crept a dull, spreading ache. 
 
 He did not notice that, though, for he was 
 raised in his stirrups, right hand lifted high, its 
 fingers clutched about the lash of his loaded quirt. 
 He felt the breath again, hot, wet, and a splatter 
 of froth from the flapping lips struck his cheek. 
 Then the right hand came down with a snap and 
 a jerk, with all the vigor of muscular force that 
 VB could summon.
 
 126 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 His eye had been good, his judgment true. 
 The Captain s teeth did not sink into his flesh, 
 for the quirt-butt, a leaden slug, crunched on 
 the horse s skull, right between the ears! 
 
 The fury of motion departed, like the going 
 of a cyclone. The Captain dropped to all fours 
 and hung his head, staggered a half-dozen short 
 paces drunkenly, and then sighed deeply 
 
 He reached the end of the rope. It came tight 
 again, and with the tightening the battle ! 
 Thrice more he charged the man with all the 
 hate his wild heart could summon, but not once 
 did those dreadful teeth find that which they 
 sought. Again the front hoof met its mark and 
 racked the flesh of VB s leg, but that did not 
 matter. He could stand that punishment, for he 
 was winning! He was countering the stallion s 
 efforts, which made the contest an even break; 
 and his rope was on and he had dealt one telling 
 blow with his quirt. Two points! And the boy 
 screamed his triumph as the missile he swung 
 landed again, on the soft nose this time, the nose 
 so wrinkled with hateful desire and the Cap 
 tain swung off to one side from the stinging force 
 of it. 
 
 Not in delight at punishment was that cry. 
 The blow on the skull, the slug at the nose stabbed 
 VB to his tenderest depths. But he knew it 
 must be so, and his shout was a shout of conquest 
 of the first man asserting primal authority, 
 of the last man coming into his own!
 
 CAPTURE 127 
 
 The dust they stirred rose stiflingly. Down 
 there under the hill no moving breath of air 
 would carry it off. The pony under VB grunted 
 and strained, but was jerked sharply about by 
 the rushes of the heavier stallion, heavier and 
 built of things above mere flesh and bone and 
 tendon. The Captain s belly dripped water; 
 VB s face was glossy with it, his hair plastered 
 down to brow and temple. 
 
 The three became tired. In desperation the 
 Captain dropped the fight, turned to run, plunged 
 out as though to part the strands. VB s heart 
 leaped as his faith in the rope faltered but it 
 held, and the stallion, pulled about, lost his 
 footing, floundered, stumbled, went down, and 
 rolled into the shale, feet threshing the air. 
 
 It was an opening the widest VB had had, 
 wider than he could have hoped for, and he 
 rushed in, stabbing his horse shamelessly with 
 spurs and babbling witlessly as he strove to make 
 slack in the rope. The slack came. Then the 
 quick jerk of the wrist the trick he had per 
 fected back there in Jed s corral and a poten 
 tial half -hitch traveled down the rope. 
 
 The Captain floundered to get his feet under 
 him, and the loop in the rope dissolved. Again 
 the wrist twitch, again the shooting loop and - 
 
 Scotched ! screamed Young VB. " Scotched ! 
 You re my property!" 
 
 Scotched! The rope had found its hold about 
 the off hind ankle of the soiled stallion, and there
 
 128 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 it clung in a tight, relentless grasp. The rope 
 from neck to limb was so short that it kept the 
 foot clear of the ground, crippling the Captain, 
 and as the great horse floundered to his feet VB 
 had him powerless. The stallion stood dazed, 
 looking down at the thing which would not let 
 him kick, which would not let him step. 
 
 Then he sprang forward, and when the rope 
 came tight he was upended, a shoulder plowing 
 the shale. 
 
 " It s no use ! " the man cried, his voice crackling 
 in excitement. "I ve got you right right - 
 right!" 
 
 But the Captain would not quit. He tried 
 even then to rise to his hind legs and make 
 assatilt, but the effort only sent him falling back 
 ward, squealing and left him on his side, 
 moaning for his gone liberty. 
 
 For he knew. He knew that his freedom was 
 gone, even as he made his last floundering, 
 piteous endeavors. He got up and tried to run, 
 but every series of awkward moves only sent his 
 black body down into the dust and dirt, and at 
 last he rested there, head up, defiance still in his 
 eyes, but legs cramped under him. 
 
 And then VB wanted to cry. He went through 
 all the sensations the abrupt drop of spirits, 
 the swelling in the throat, the tickling in the 
 nostrils. 
 
 "Oh, Captain!" he moaned. "Captain, don t 
 you see I wouldn t harm you? Only you had
 
 CAPTURE 129 
 
 to be mine! I had to get bigger than you were, 
 Captain for my own salvation. It was the 
 only way, boy; it was the only way!" 
 
 And he sat there for a long time, his eyes 
 without the light of triumph, on his captive. 
 
 His heart-beats quickened, a new warmth 
 commenced to steal through his veins, a new 
 faith in self welled up from his innermost depths, 
 making his pulses sharp and hard, making his 
 muscles swell, sending his spirit up and up. 
 
 He had fought his first big fight and he had 
 won! 
 
 Blood began to drip from the stallion s nose. 
 
 "It s where I struck you!" whispered VB, the 
 triumph all gone again, solicitation and a vast 
 love possessing him. "It s where I struck you, 
 Captain. Oh, it hurts me, too but it must be 
 so, because things are as they are. There will 
 be more hurts, boy, before we re through. But 
 it must be!" 
 
 His voice gritted on the last. 
 
 Sounds from behind roused VB, and he looked 
 around. 
 
 The sunlight was going even from the ridge 
 up there, and the whole land was in shadow. He 
 was a long way from the ranch with this trophy 
 his, but still ready to do battle at the end of 
 his rope. 
 
 "Got one?" a man cried, coming up, and VB 
 recognized him as one of the trio of fence builders, 
 riding back to their camp. 
 
 9
 
 i 3 o "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 "Yes one," muttered VB, and turned to 
 look at the Captain. 
 
 Then the man cried: "You ve got th Cap 
 tain!" 
 
 "It s the Captain," said VB unsteadily, as 
 though too much breath were in his lungs. He s 
 mine you know mine ! 
 
 The others looked at him in silent awe.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A LETTER AND A NARRATIVE 
 
 JED A VERY had been away from Young VB 
 almost two weeks, and he had grown im 
 patient in the interval. So he pushed his bay 
 pony up the trail from Ranger, putting the miles 
 behind him as quickly as possible. The little 
 man had fretted over every step of the journey 
 homeward, and from Colt on into the hills it 
 was a conscious effort that kept him from abus 
 ing his horse by overtravel. 
 
 "If he should have gone an busted over while 
 I was away I d I d never forgive myself 
 lettin that boy go to th bad just for a dinky 
 claim!" 
 
 It was the thousandth time he had made the 
 declaration, and as he spoke the words a thank 
 fulness rose in his heart because of what he had 
 not heard in Ranger. He knew that VB had kept 
 away from town. Surely that was a comfort, an 
 assurance, a justification for his faith that was 
 firm even under the growling. 
 
 Still, there might have been a wanderer with 
 a bottle 
 
 And as he came in sight of his own buildings 
 Jed put the pony to a gallop for the first time 
 during that long journey. Smoke rose from the
 
 132 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 chimney, the door stood open, an atmosphere of 
 habitation was about the place, and that proved 
 something. He crowded his horse close against 
 the gate, leaned low, unfastened the hasp, and 
 rode on through. 
 
 "Oh, VB!" he called, and from the cabin came 
 an answering hail, a scraping of chair legs, and 
 the young fellow appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "How s th " 
 
 Jed did not finish the question then or 
 ever. His eagerness for the meeting, the light 
 of anticipation that had been in his face, dis 
 appeared. He reined up his horse with a stout 
 jerk, and for a long moment sat there motion 
 less, eyes on the round corral. Then his shoulders 
 slacked forward and he raised a hand to scratch 
 his chin in bewilderment. 
 
 For yonder, his nose resting on one of the gate 
 bars, watching the newcomer, safe in the inclo- 
 sure, alive, just as though he belonged there, 
 stood the Captain! 
 
 After that motionless moment Jed turned his 
 eyes back to Young VB, and stared blankly, 
 almost witlessly. Then he raised a limp hand 
 and half pointed toward the corral, while his lips 
 formed a soundless question. 
 
 VB stepped from the doorway and walked 
 toward Jed, smiling. 
 
 "Yes," he said with soft pride, as though 
 telling of a sacred thing, "the Captain is there 
 in our corral."
 
 A LETTER AND A NARRATIVE 133 
 
 Jed drew a great breath. 
 
 "Did you do it and alone?" 
 
 "Well, there wasn t any one else about," VB 
 replied modestly. 
 
 Again Jed s chest heaved. 
 
 "Well, I ma" 
 
 He ended in inarticulate distress, searching for 
 a proper expletive, mouth open and ready, should 
 he find one. Then he was off his horse, both 
 hands on the boy s shoulders, looking into the 
 eyes that met his so steadily. 
 
 "You done it, Young VB!" he cried brokenly. 
 "You done it! Oh, I m proud of you! Your 
 old adopted daddy sure is! You done it all by 
 yourself, an it s somethin that nobody has 
 ever been able to do before!" 
 
 Then they both laughed aloud, eyes still 
 clinging. 
 
 "Come over and get acquainted," suggested 
 VB. "He s waiting for us." 
 
 They started for the corral, Jed s eyes, now 
 flaming as they took in the detail of that won 
 derful creature, already seen by him countless 
 times, but now for the first time unfree. 
 
 The stallion watched them come, moving his 
 feet up and down uneasily and peering at them 
 between the bars. VB reached for the gate 
 fastening, and the horse was away across the 
 corral, snorting, head up, as though fearful. 
 
 "Why, Captain!" the boy cried. "What 
 ails you?"
 
 i 3 4 " I CONQUERED" 
 
 "What ails him?" cried Jed. "Man alive, 
 I d expect to see him tryin to tear our hearts 
 out!" 
 
 "Oh, but he s like a woman!" VB said softly, 
 watching the horse as he swung the gate open. 
 
 They stepped inside, Jed with caution. VB 
 walked straight across to the horse and laid his 
 hand on the splendid curve of the rump. 
 
 "Well, I m a" Again Jed could find no 
 proper word to express his astonishment. He 
 simply took off his hat and swung it in one hand, 
 like an embarrassed schoolgirl. 
 
 "Come over and meet the boss, Captain," 
 VB laughed, drawing the black head around by 
 its heavy forelock. 
 
 And the Captain came unexpectedly. The 
 boy realized the danger with the first plunge and 
 threw his arms about the animal s neck, crying 
 to him to be still. And Jed realized, too. He 
 slipped outside, putting bars between himself and 
 those savage teeth which reached out for his body. 
 
 Foiled, the stallion halted. 
 
 "Captain," exclaimed VB, "what ails you?" 
 
 "To be sure, nothin ails him," said Jed sagely. 
 "You re his master; you own him, body and soul; 
 but you ain t drove th hate for men out of his 
 heart. He seems to love you but not others 
 yes" 
 
 His voice died out as he watched the black 
 beast make love to the tall young chap who 
 scolded into his dainty ear. The soft, thin lips
 
 A LETTER AND A NARRATIVE 135 
 
 plucked at VB s clothing, nuzzling about him as 
 he stood with arms clasped around the glossy 
 neck. The great cheek rubbed against the boy s 
 side until it pushed him from his tracks, though 
 he strained playfully against the pressure. Such 
 was the fierceness of that horse s allegiance. His 
 nostrils fluttered, but no sound came from them: 
 the beast whisperings of affection. All the time 
 VB scolded softly, as a father might banter with 
 a child. And when the boy looked up a great 
 pride was in his face, and Jed understood. 
 
 "That s right, Young VB be proud of it! 
 Be proud that he s yours; be proud that he s 
 yours, an yours only. Keep him that way; to 
 be sure, an you ve earned it!" 
 
 Then he stepped close to the bars and gazed 
 at the animal with the critical look of a con 
 noisseur. 
 
 "Not a hair that ain t black," he muttered. 
 "Black from ankle to ear; hoofs almost black, 
 black in th nostrils. Black horses generally 
 have brown eyes, but you can t even tell where 
 th pupil is in his! 
 
 "Say, VB, he makes th ace of spades look 
 like new snow, don t he?" 
 
 "He does that!" cried VB, and putting his 
 hands on the animal s back, he leaped lightly 
 up, sitting sidewise on the broad hips and playing 
 with the heavy tail. 
 
 "VB, I m a Lord, a thousand dollars for 
 a new oath!"
 
 i 3 6 "_ I CONQUERED" 
 
 At VB s suggestion they started back to the 
 cabin. 
 
 "Why, boy, you re limpin !" the old man 
 exclaimed. "An in both legs!" He stopped 
 and looked the young fellow over from hat to 
 heel. "One side of your face s all skinned. 
 Looks as though your left hand d all been smashed 
 up, it s that swelled. You move like your back 
 hurt, too like sin. VB?" 
 
 The boy stopped and looked down at the 
 ground. Then his eyes met those of the old 
 rancher, and Jed Avery understood he had 
 seen the bond between man and horse; he realized 
 what must have transpired between them. 
 
 And he knew the love that men can have for 
 animals, something which, if you have never felt 
 it, is far beyond comprehension. So he asked 
 just this question : How long ? 
 
 And VB answered: "Six days from dawn 
 till dark. One to get a halter on him, another 
 to get my hand on his head; three days in the 
 Scotch hobble, and the last to ride him like 
 a hand-raised colt." 
 
 Jed replaced his hat, pulling it low to hide his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Ain t I proud to be your daddy?" he whis 
 pered. 
 
 An overwhelming pride a pride raised to 
 the nth degree, of the sort that is above the 
 understanding of most men was in the tone 
 timbre of the question.
 
 A LETTER AND A NARRATIVE 137 
 
 They went on into the house. 
 
 "Jed," VB said, as though he had waited to 
 broach something of great import, "I ve written 
 a letter this morning, and I want to read it to 
 you, just to see how it sounds out loud." 
 
 He sat down in a chair and drew sheets of small 
 tablet paper toward him. 
 
 Jed, without answer, leaned against the table 
 and waited. VB read: 
 
 "Mv DEAR FATHER: 
 
 "I am writing merely to say that I know you were 
 right and I was wrong. 
 
 "I am in a new life, where men do big, real things 
 which justify their own existence. I am finding my 
 self. I am getting that perspective which lets me 
 see just how right you were and how wrong I was. 
 
 "Since coming here I have done something real. I 
 have captured and made mine the wildest horse that 
 ever ran these hills. I am frankly proud of it. I may 
 live to do things of more obvious greatness, but that 
 will be because men have had their sense of values 
 warped. For rne, this attainment is a true triumph. 
 
 "I am now in the process of taming another beast, 
 more savage than the one I have mastered, and possess 
 ing none of his noble qualities. It is a beast not of 
 the sort we can grapple with, though we can see it in 
 men. It is giving me a hard battle, but try to believe 
 that my efforts are sincere and, though it may take 
 my whole lifetime, I am bound to win in the end. 
 
 "This letter will be mailed in Kansas City by a 
 friend. I am many days travel from that point. 
 When I am sure of the other victory I shall let you 
 know where I am. 
 
 "Your affectionate son,"
 
 i 3 8 " I CONQUERED" 
 
 He tossed the sheets back to the table top. 
 
 " I m going to get it over to Ant Creek and let 
 some of the boys take it to the river when they 
 go with beef," he explained. "Now, how does 
 it sound?" 
 
 "Fine, VB, fine!" Jed muttered, rubbing one 
 cheek. "To be sure, it ain t so much what you 
 say as th way you say it makin a party feel 
 as though you meant it from th bottom of your 
 feet to th tip of th longest hair on your head!" 
 
 "Well, Jed, I do mean it just that way. That 
 horse out there he he stands for so much 
 now. He stands for everything I have n t been, 
 and for all that I want to be. He ran free as the 
 birds, but it could n t always be so. He had to 
 succumb, had to give up that sort of liberty. 
 
 "I took his power from him, made him my 
 own, made him my servant. Yet it did n t 
 scathe his spirit. It has changed all that bitter 
 ness into love, all that wasted energy into doing 
 something useful. I didn t break him, Jed; I 
 converted him. Understand?" 
 
 I do, VB ; but we won t convert this here other 
 beast. We ll bust him wide open, won t we? 
 Break him, body an spirit!" 
 
 The boy smiled wanly. 
 
 "That s what we re trying to do." 
 
 He pointed to the candle in its daubed bottle. 
 
 "Just to keep the light burning, Jed just 
 to keep its light fighting back the darkness. The 
 little flame of that candle breaks the power of
 
 A LETTER AND A NARRATIVE 139 
 
 the black thing which would shut it in like a 
 heart being good and true in spite of the rotten 
 body in which it beats. And when my body 
 commences to want the old things to want 
 them, oh, so badly I just think of this little 
 candle here, calm and quiet and steady, stick 
 ing out of what was once a cesspool, a poison 
 pot, and making a place in the night where men 
 can see." 
 
 While a hundred could have been counted 
 slowly they remained motionless, quiet, not a 
 sound breaking the silence. 
 
 Then Jed began talking in a half-tone: 
 
 "I know, Young VB; I know. You ve got 
 time now to light it and nurse th flame up so s 
 it won t need watchin an not miss things that 
 go by in th dark. Some of us puts it off too 
 long like a man I know now. I did n t 
 know him then when it happened. He was 
 wanderin around in a night that never turned to 
 day, thinkin he knowed where he was goin , 
 but all th time just bein fooled by th dark. 
 
 "And there was a girl back in Kansas. He 
 started after her, but it was so dark he could n t 
 find th way, an when he did 
 
 "Some folks is fools enough to say women 
 don t die of broken hearts. But well, when a 
 feller knows some things he wants to go tell em 
 to men who don t know; to help em to under 
 stand, if he can ; to give em a hand if they do see 
 but can t find their way out "
 
 i 4 o "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 He stopped, staring at the floor. VB had no 
 cause to search for identities. 
 
 From the corral came a shrill, prolonged neigh 
 ing. VB arose and laid a hand gently on Jed s 
 bowed shoulder. 
 
 "That s the Captain," he said solemnly; "and 
 he calls me when he s thirsty." 
 
 While he was gone Jed remained as he had 
 been left, staring at the floor.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 WOMAN WANTS 
 
 GAIL THORPE rose from the piano in the 
 big ranch house of the S Bar S, rearranged 
 the mountain flowers that filled a vase on a 
 tabouret, then knocked slowly, firmly, command- 
 ingly, on a door that led from the living room. 
 
 "Well, I don t want you; but I s pose you 
 might as well come in and get it off your mind!" 
 
 The voice from the other side spoke in feigned 
 annoyance. It continued to grumble until a 
 lithe figure, topped by a mass of hair like pulled 
 sunshine, flung itself at him, twining warm arms 
 about his neck and kissing the words from the 
 lips of big Bob Thorpe as he sat before his desk 
 in the room that served as the ranch office. 
 
 "Will you ever say it again that you don t 
 want me?" she demanded. 
 
 "No but merely because I m intimidated 
 into promising," he answered. His big arms went 
 tight about the slender body and he pulled his 
 daughter up on his lap. 
 
 A silence, while she fussed with his necktie. 
 Her blue eyes looked into his gray ones a moment 
 as though absently, then back to the necktie. 
 Her fingers fell idle; her head snuggled against 
 his neck. Bob Thorpe laughed loud and long. 
 
 141
 
 i 4 2 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 "Well, what is it this morning?" he asked 
 between chuckles. 
 
 The girl sat up suddenly, pushed back the hair 
 that defied fastenings, and tapped a stretched 
 palm with the stiff forefinger of the other hand. 
 
 "I m not a Western girl," she declared delib 
 erately; and then, as the brown face before her 
 clouded, hastened: "Oh, I m not wanting to go 
 away! I mean, I m not truly a Western girl, 
 but I want to be. I want to fit better. 
 
 "When we decided that I should graduate and 
 come back here with my mommy and daddy for 
 the rest of my life, I decided. There was nothing 
 halfway about it. Some of the other girls 
 thought it awful; but I don t see the attraction 
 in their way of living. 
 
 "When I was a little girl I was a sort of torn- 
 cow-boy. I could do things as well as any of the 
 boys I ever knew could do them. But after 
 ten years, mostly away in the East, where girls 
 are like plants, I ve lost it all. Now I want to 
 get it back." 
 
 "Well, go to it!" 
 
 "Wait! I want to start well high up. I 
 want to have the best that there is to have. 
 I want a horse ! " 
 
 "Horse? Bless me, bambino, there are fifty 
 broken horses running in the back pasture now, 
 besides what the boys have on the ride. Take 
 your pick!" 
 
 "Oh, I know!" she said with gentle scoffing.
 
 WOMAN WANTS 143 
 
 "That sort of a horse just cow-ponies. I love 
 em, but I guess well 
 
 "You ve been educated away from em, you 
 mei n?" he chuckled. 
 
 "Well, whatever it is I want something 
 better. I, as a daughter of the biggest, best man 
 in Colorado, want to ride the best animal that 
 ever felt a cinch." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "And I want to have him now, so I can get 
 used to him this fall and look forward to coming 
 back to him in the spring." 
 
 Bob Thorpe took both her hands in one of his. 
 
 "And if a thing like that will make my bambino 
 happy, I guess she ll have it." 
 
 The girl kissed him and held her cheek close 
 against his for a breath. 
 
 "When I go to Denver for the stock show I ll 
 pick the best blue ribbon 
 
 "Denver!" she exclaimed indignantly, sitting 
 straight and tossing her head. "I want a real 
 horse a horse bred and raised in these moun 
 tains a horse I can trust. None of your blue- 
 blooded stock. They re like the girls I went to 
 college with!" 
 
 Bob Thorpe let his laughter roll out. 
 
 ""Well, what do you expect to find around here? 
 Have you seen anything you like?" 
 
 She pulled her hands from his grasp and 
 stretched his mouth out of shape with her little 
 fingers until he squirmed.
 
 144 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 "No, I haven t seen him; but I ve heard the 
 cowboys talking. Over at Mr. Avery s ranch 
 they ve caught a black horse " 
 
 Bob Thorpe set her suddenly up on the arm 
 of his chair and shook her soundly. 
 
 "Look here, young lady!" he exclaimed. 
 "You re dreaming! I know what horse you re 
 talking about. He s a wild devil that has run 
 these hills for years. I heard he d been caught. 
 Get the notion of having him out of your head. 
 I ve never seen him but once, and then he was 
 away off; but I ve heard tales of him. Why - 
 
 "Nonsense! In the first place, he couldn t 
 be broken to ride. Men are n t made big enough 
 to break the spirit of a devil like that! They re 
 bigger than humans. So we can end this d:3- 
 cussion in peace. It s impossible!" 
 
 "All right," Gail said sweetly. "I just let 
 you go on and get yourself into a corner. You 
 don t know what you re talking about. He has 
 been ridden. So there! I want him!" 
 
 He thrust her to one side, rose, and com 
 menced to pace the room, gesticulating wildly. 
 But it all came to the invariable end of such 
 discussions, and twenty minutes later Gail Thorpe, 
 her smoking, smiling dad at her side, piloted the 
 big touring car down the road, bound for Jed 
 Avery s ranch. 
 
 Young VB sat on a box behind the cabin work 
 ing with a boot-heel that insisted on running over.
 
 WOMAN WANTS 145 
 
 He lifted the boot, held it before his face, and 
 squinted one eye to sight the effect of his work 
 then started at a cry from the road. 
 
 The boot still in his hands, VB stopped squint 
 ing to listen. Undoubtedly whoever it was 
 wanted Jed; but Jed was away with the horse 
 buyer, looking over his young stuff. So Young 
 VB, boot in hand, its foot clad in a service- worn 
 sock, made his uneven way around the house 
 to make any necessary explanations. 
 
 "That must be he!" 
 
 The light, high voice of the girl gave the cry 
 just as VB turned the corner and came in sight, 
 and her hand, half extended to point toward 
 the corral, pointed directly into the face of the 
 young man. 
 
 He did not hear what she had said, did not 
 venture a greeting. He merely stood and stared 
 at her, utterly without poise. In a crimson flash 
 he realized that this was Gail Thorpe, that she 
 was pretty, and that his bootless foot was covered 
 by a sock that had given way before the stress 
 of walking in high heels, allowing his great toe, 
 with two of its lesser conspirators, to protrude. 
 To his confusion, those toes seemed to be swelling 
 and for the life of him he could make them do 
 nothing but stand stiffly in the air almost at 
 right angles with the foot. 
 
 His breeding cried out for a retreat, for a leap 
 into shelter; but his wits had lost all grace. 
 He lifted the half -naked foot and carefully brushed 
 
 10
 
 i 4 6 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 the dirt from the sock. Then, leaning a shoulder 
 against the corner of the cabin, he drew the boot 
 on. Stamping it to the ground to settle his foot 
 into place, he said, "Good morning," weakly and 
 devoid of heartiness. 
 
 Bob Thorpe had not noticed this confusion, for 
 his eyes were on the corral. But Gail, a peculiar 
 twinkle in her eyes, had seen it all and with 
 quick intuition knew that it was something more 
 than the embarrassment of a cow-puncher and 
 struggled to suppress her smiles. 
 
 "Good afternoon," Thorpe corrected. "Jed 
 here?" 
 
 "No; he s riding," VB answered. 
 
 The cattleman moved a pace to the left and 
 tilted his head to see better the Captain, who 
 stormed around and around the corral, raising 
 a great dust. 
 
 "We came over to look at a horse I heard was 
 here this one, I guess. Is n t he the wild 
 stallion?" 
 
 "Used to be wild." 
 
 He looks it yet. Watch him plunge ! Thorpe 
 cried. 
 
 "He s never seen an automobile before," VB 
 explained, as the three moved nearer the corral. 
 
 The horse was frightened. He quivered when 
 he stood in one place, and the quivering always 
 grew more violent until it ended in a plunge. 
 He rose to his hind legs, head always toward 
 the car, and pawed the air; then settled back and
 
 WOMAN WANTS 147 
 
 ran to the far side of the inclosure, with eyes 
 for nothing but that machine. 
 
 They halted by the bars, Thorpe and his 
 daughter standing close together, Young VB 
 nearer the gate. The boy said something to the 
 horse and laughed softly. 
 
 Why, look, daddy," the girl cried, "he s 
 beginning to calm down!" 
 
 The Captain stopped his antics and, still 
 trembling, moved gingerly to the bars. Twice 
 he threw up his head, looked at the machine, and 
 breathed loudly, and once a quick tremor ran 
 through his fine limbs, but the terror was no 
 longer on him. 
 
 Bob Thorpe turned a slow gaze on VB. The 
 girl stood with lips parted. A flush came under 
 her fine skin and she clasped her hands at her 
 breast. 
 
 "Oh, daddy, what a horse!" she breathed. 
 
 And Bob Thorpe echoed: "Lord, what a 
 horse! Anybody tried to ride him?" he asked 
 a moment later. 
 
 "He gets work every day," VB answered. 
 
 Work ? Don t tell me you work that animal ! 
 
 The young chap nodded. "Yes; he works 
 right along." 
 
 The Captain snorted oudly and tore away in 
 a proud circle of the corral, as though to flaunt 
 his graces. 
 
 "Oh, daddy, it took a man to break that 
 animal!" the girl breathed.
 
 i 4 8 "_ I CONQUERED" 
 
 The bronze of VB s face darkened, then paled. 
 He turned a steady look on the sunny- haired 
 woman, and the full thanks that swelled in his 
 throat almost found words. He wanted to cry 
 out to her, to tell her what such things meant; 
 for she was of his sort, highly bred, capable of 
 understanding. And he found himself thinking: 
 "You are! You are! You re as I thought you 
 must be!" 
 
 Then he felt Thorpe s gaze and turned to meet 
 it, a trifle guiltily. 
 
 "Yours?" the man asked. 
 
 "Mine." 
 
 Thorpe turned back to the Captain. Gail 
 drew a quick breath and turned away from him 
 to the man. 
 
 "I thought so when he commenced to quiet," 
 muttered Thorpe. 
 
 He looked then at his daughter and found her 
 standing still, hands clasped, lips the least trifle 
 parted, gazing at Young VB. 
 
 Something in him urged a quick step forward. 
 It was an alarm, something primal in the fathers 
 of women. But Bob Thorpe put the notion 
 aside as foolishness or tenderness and walked 
 closer to the corral, chewing his cigar specula- 
 tively. The stallion wrinkled his nose and 
 dropped the ears flat, the orange glimmer coming 
 into his eyes. 
 
 "Don t like strangers, I see." 
 
 "Not crazy about them," VB answered.
 
 WOMAN WANTS 149 
 
 Thorpe walked off to the left, then came back. 
 He removed his cigar and looked at Gail. She 
 fussed with her rebellious hair and her face was 
 flushed ; she no longer looked at the horse or 
 at VB. He felt a curiosity about that flush. 
 
 "Well, want to get rid of him?" 
 
 Thorpe hooked his thumbs in his vest arm- 
 holes and confronted VB. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "What do you want for him?" 
 
 The young fellow started. 
 
 What ? " he said in surprise. I was thinking. 
 I did n t catch your question." 
 
 The fact was, he had heard, but had distrusted 
 the sense. The idea of men offering money for 
 the Captain had never occurred to him. 
 
 "What do you want for him?" 
 
 VB smiled. 
 
 "What do I want for him?" he repeated. "I 
 want feed and water for the rest of his life; 
 shelter when he needs it; the will to treat him as 
 he should be treated. And I guess that s about 
 all." 
 
 The other again removed his cigar, and his 
 jaw dropped. A cow-puncher talking so! He 
 could not believe it ; and the idea so confused him 
 that he blundered right on with the bargaining. 
 "Five hundred? Seven-fifty? No? Well, how 
 much?" 
 
 VB smiled again, just an indulgent smile 
 prompted by the knowledge that he possessed a
 
 i5o "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 thing beyond the power of even this man s wealth. 
 
 "The Captain is not for sale," he said. Not 
 to-day or ever. That s final. 
 
 There was more talk, but all the kindly bluff- 
 ness, all the desire instinctive in Bob Thorpe to 
 give the other man an even break in the bargain, 
 fell flat. This stranger, this thirty-five-dollar-a- 
 month ranch hand, shed his offers as a tin roof 
 sheds rain and with a self-possession characterized 
 by unmistakable assurance. 
 
 "Tell Jed I was over," the big man said as they 
 gave up their errand and turned to go. "And" 
 as he set a foot on the running board of his 
 car- "any time you re our way drop in." 
 
 "Yes, do!" added the girl, and her father could 
 not check the impulse which made him turn 
 halfway as though to shut her off.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 VB FIGHTS 
 
 JED returned that evening, worn by a hard 
 day s riding. He was silent. VB, too, was 
 quiet and they spoke little until the housework 
 was finished and Jed had drawn off his boots 
 preparatory to turning in. 
 
 Then VB said : Bob Thorpe was over to-day. 
 
 "So?" 
 
 "Uh-huh; wanted to buy the Captain." 
 
 After a pause Jed commented: "That s nat 
 ural." 
 
 "Wanted me to give you the good word." 
 
 The old man walked through the doorway 
 into the little bunk room and VB heard him flop 
 into the crude bed. 
 
 A short interval of silence. 
 
 "Jed," called VB, "ever hear where his daughter 
 went to school?" 
 
 A long yawn. Then: 
 
 "Yep don t remember." 
 
 Another pause. 
 
 "She was over, too." 
 
 "Oh-ho-o-o!" 
 
 The boy felt himself flushing, and then sat bolt 
 upright, wondering soberly and seriously why it 
 should be so without reason.
 
 i52 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 Young VB slept restlessly that night. He 
 tossed and dreamed, waking frequently under a 
 sense of nervous tension, then falling back to 
 half-slumber once more. Thorpe came, and his 
 daughter, offering fabulous sums for the Captain, 
 which were stubbornly refused. 
 
 Then, shouting at the top of her voice, the girl 
 cried: 
 
 "But I will give you kisses for him! Surely 
 that is enough!" 
 
 And VB came back to himself, sitting up in 
 bed and wadding the blankets in his hands. He 
 blinked in the darkness and herded his scattered 
 senses with difficulty. Then the hands left off 
 twisting the covers and went slowly to his throat. 
 For the thirst was on him and in the morning he 
 rose in the grip of the same stifling desire, and his 
 quavering hands spilled things as he ate. 
 
 Jed noticed, but made no comment. When 
 the meal was finished he said: 
 
 "S pose I could get you to crawl up on the 
 Captain an take a shoot up Curley Gulch with 
 an eye out for that black mare an her yearlin ?" 
 
 VB was glad to be alone with his horse, and as 
 he walked to the corral, his bridle over his arm, 
 he felt as though, much as Jed could help him, he 
 could never bring the inspiration which the black 
 beast offered. 
 
 He opened the gate and let it swing wide. 
 The Captain came across to him with soft 
 nickelings, deserting the alfalfa he was munching.
 
 VB FIGHTS 153 
 
 He thrust his muzzle into the crook of VB s 
 elbow, and the arm tightened on it desperately, 
 while the other hand went up to twine fingers 
 in the luxurious mane. 
 
 "Oh, Captain!" he muttered, putting his face 
 close to the animal s cheek. "You know what 
 it is to fight for yourself ! You know but where 
 you found love and help when you lost that 
 fight, I d find just blackness without even 
 a candle 
 
 The stallion moved closer, shoving with his 
 head until he forced VB out of the corral. Then 
 with his teasing lips he sought the bridle. 
 
 "You seem to understand!" the man cried, 
 his tired eyes lighting. "You seem to know 
 what I need!" 
 
 Five minutes later he was rushing through the 
 early morning air up the gulch, the Captain 
 bearing him along with that free, firm, faultless 
 stride that had swept him over those mountains 
 for so many long, unmolested years. 
 
 Throughout the forenoon they rode hard. 
 VB looked for the mare and colt, but the search 
 did not command much of his attention. 
 
 "Why can t I turn all this longing into some 
 thing useful?" he asked the horse. "Your lust 
 for freedom has come to this end; why can t my 
 impulses to be a wild beast be driven into another 
 path?" 
 
 And the Captain made answer by bending his 
 superb head and lipping VB s chap-clad knee.
 
 154 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 The quest was fruitless, and an hour before 
 noon VB turned back toward the ranch, making 
 a short cut across the hills. In one of the gulches 
 the Captain nickered softly and increased his 
 trotting. VB let him go, unconscious of his 
 brisker movement, for the calling in his throat 
 had risen to a clamor. The horse stopped and 
 lowered his head, drinking from a hole into 
 which crystal water seeped. 
 
 The man dropped off and flopped on his stom 
 ach, thrusting his face into the pool close to the 
 nose of the greedily drinking stallion. He took 
 the water in great gulps. It was cold, as cold as 
 spring water can be, yet it was as nothing against 
 the fire within him. 
 
 The Captain, raising his head quickly, caught 
 his breath with a grunt, dragging the air deep 
 into his great lungs and exhaling slowly, loudly, 
 as he gazed off down the gulch; then he chewed 
 briskly on the bit and thrust his nose again into 
 the spring. 
 
 VB s arm stole up and dropped over the horse s 
 head. 
 
 "Oh, boy, you know what one kind of thirst 
 is," he said in a whisper. "But there s another 
 kind that this stuff won t quench! The thirst 
 that comes from being in blackness 
 
 They went on, dropped off a point, and made 
 for the fiat little buildings of the ranch. As he 
 approached, VB saw three saddled horses standing
 
 VB FIGHTS 155 
 
 before the house, none of which was Jed s prop 
 erty. Nothing strange in that, however, for one 
 man s home is another s shelter in that country, 
 whether the owner be on the ground or not, and 
 to VB the thought of visitors brought relief. 
 Contact with others might joggle him from his 
 mood. 
 
 He left the Captain, saddled, at the corral gate, 
 bridle reins down, and he knew that the horse 
 would not budge so much as a step until told to 
 do so. Then he swung over toward the house, 
 heels scuffing the hard dirt, spurs jingling. At 
 the threshold he walked squarely into the man 
 Rhues. 
 
 The recognition was a distinct shock. He 
 stepped backward a pace recoiled rather, for 
 the movement was as from a thing he detested. 
 Into his mind crowded every detail of his former 
 encounters with this fellow; in the Anchor bunk 
 house and across the road from the saloon in 
 Ranger. They came back vividly the expres 
 sion of faces, lights and shadows, even odors, 
 and the calling in him for the help that throttles 
 became agonizing. 
 
 Rhues misconstrued his emotion. His judg 
 ment was warped by the spirit of the bully, and 
 he thought this man feared him. He remem 
 bered that defiant interchange of questions, and 
 the laugh that went to VB on their first meeting. 
 He nursed the rankling memory. He had told 
 it about that Avery s tenderfoot was afraid to
 
 156 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 take a drink speaking greater truth than he was 
 aware but his motive had been to discredit 
 VB in the eyes of the countrymen, for he belonged 
 to that ilk who see in debauchery the mark of 
 manhood. 
 
 Coming now upon the man he had chosen to 
 persecute, and reading fear in VB s eyes, Rhues 
 was made crudely happy. 
 
 "You don t appear to be overglad to see us," 
 he drawled. 
 
 VB glanced into the room. A Mexican sat 
 on the table, smoking and swinging his legs; a 
 white man he remembered having seen in Ranger 
 stood behind Rhues. Jed was nowhere about. 
 He looked back at the snaky leer in those half- 
 opened green eyes, and a rage went boiling into 
 his brain. The unmistakable challenge which 
 came from this bully was of the sort that strips 
 from men civilization s veneer. 
 
 "You ve gessed it," he said calmly. "I don t 
 know why I should be glad to see you. These 
 others" he motioned "are strangers to me." 
 
 Then he stepped past Rhues into the room. 
 
 The man grinned at him as he tossed his hat 
 to a chair and unbuckled the leather cuffs. 
 
 "But that makes no difference," he went on. 
 "Jed is n t here. It s meal time, and if you men 
 want to eat I ll build a big enough dinner." 
 
 Rhues laughed, and the mockery in his tone 
 was of the kind that makes the biggest of men 
 forget they can be above insult.
 
 VB FIGHTS 157 
 
 "We did n t come here to eat," he said. "We 
 come up to see a horse we heerd about th 
 Captain. We heerd Jed caught him." 
 
 VB started. The thought of Rhues inspecting 
 the stallion, commenting on him, admiring him, was 
 as repulsive to Young VB as would be the thought 
 to a lover of a vile human commenting vulgarly 
 on the sacred body of the woman of women. 
 
 The Mexican strolled out of the house as VB, 
 turning to the stove, tried to ignore the explana 
 tion of their presence. He walked on toward the 
 ponies. A dozen steps from the house he stopped, 
 and called: 
 
 "Por Dios, hombre!" 
 
 Rhues and the other followed him, and VB saw 
 them stand together, staring in amazement at 
 the Captain. Then they moved toward the great 
 horse, talking to one another and laughing. 
 
 VB followed, with a feeling of indignation. 
 The trio advanced, quickening their pace. 
 
 "Hold on!" he cried in sudden alarm. "Don t 
 go too near; he s dangerous!" 
 
 Already the Captain had flattened his ears, 
 and as VB ran out he could see the nose wrinkling, 
 the lips drawing back. 
 
 "What s got into you?" demanded Rhues, 
 turning, while the Mexican laughed jeeringly. "I 
 guess if you can ride him a man can git up clost 
 without gittin chawed up! Remember, young 
 kid, we ve been workin with hosses sence you 
 was suckin yer thumb."
 
 i S 8 " I CONQUERED" 
 
 The others laughed again, but VB gave no heed. 
 He was seeing red again ; reason had gone either 
 reason or the coating of conventions. 
 
 "Well, if you won t stand away from him 
 because of danger, you ll do it because I say so!" 
 he muttered. 
 
 "O-ho, an that s it!" laughed Rhues, walking 
 on. 
 
 VB passed him and approached the Captain 
 and took his bridle. 
 
 "Be still, boy," he murmured. "Stand where 
 you are." 
 
 He stroked the nose, and the wrinkles left it. 
 
 Rhues laughed again harshly. 
 
 "Well, that s a fine kind o buggy horse!" he 
 jeered. "Let a tenderfoot come up an steal 
 all th man-eatin fire outen him!" 
 
 He laughed again and the others joined. The 
 Mexican said something in Spanish. 
 
 "Yah," assented Rhues. "I thought we was 
 comin to see a hoss th kind o nag this feller 
 pertended to be. But now look at him ! He s 
 just a low-down 
 
 VB sprang toward him. 
 
 You - he breathed, you you hound ! 
 Why, you are n t fit to come into sight of this 
 horse. You you apologize to that horse!" he 
 demanded, and even through his molten rage the 
 words sounded unutterably silly. 
 
 Yet he went on, fists clenched, carried beyond 
 reason or balance by the instinctive hate for
 
 VB FIGHTS 159 
 
 this man and love for the black animal behind him. 
 
 Rhues laughed again. 
 
 "Who says so, besides you, you . Why, 
 
 you ain t no more man n that hoss is hoss!" 
 
 He saw then that he had reckoned poorly. 
 The greenhorn, the boy who cowered at the 
 thought of a man s dissipation, had disappeared, 
 and in his stead stood a quivering young animal, 
 poising for a pounce. 
 
 Being a bully, Rhues was a coward. So when 
 VB sprang, and he knew conflict was unavoidable, 
 his right hand whipped back. The ringers closed 
 on the handle of his automatic as VB made 
 the first step. They made their hold secure as the 
 Easterner s arm drew back. They yanked at 
 the gun as that fist shot out. 
 
 It was a good blow, a clean blow, a full blow 
 right on the point of the chin, and, quickly as it 
 had been delivered, the right was back in an 
 instinctive guard and the left had rapped out hard 
 on the snarling mouth. Rhues went backward 
 and down, unbalanced by the first shock, crushed 
 by the second; and the third, a repeated jab of 
 the left, caught him behind the ear and stretched 
 him helpless in the dust. 
 
 His fingers relaxed their hold on the gun that 
 he had not been quick enough to use, so lightning- 
 like was the attack from this individual he had 
 dubbed a "kid." VB stepped over the pros 
 trate form, put his toe under the revolver, and 
 flipped it a dozen yards away.
 
 160 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 Then Jed A very pulled up his horse in a shower 
 of dust, and VB, his rage choking down words, 
 turned to lead the Captain into the corral. The 
 animal nosed him fiercely and pulled back to look 
 at Rhues, who, under the crude ministrations of 
 his two companions, had taken on a semblance 
 of life. 
 
 A moment later VB returned from the inclosure, 
 bearing his riding equipment. He said to Jed: 
 "This man insulted the Captain. I had to whip 
 him." Then he walked to the wagon shed, 
 dropped his saddle in its shelter, and came back. 
 
 Rhues sat up and, as VB approached, got to his 
 feet. He lurched forward as if to rush his enemy, 
 but the Mexican caught him and held him back. 
 
 VB stood, hands on hips, and glared at him. 
 He said: "No, I wouldn t come again if I were 
 you. I don t want to have to smash you again. 
 I d enjoy it in a way, but when a man is knocked 
 out he s whipped in my country judged by 
 the standards we set there. 
 
 "You re a coward, Rhues a dirty, sneaking, 
 low-down coward! Every gun-man is a coward. 
 It s no way to settle disputes gun righting." 
 
 He glared at the fellow before him, who swore 
 under his breath but who could not summon the 
 courage to strike. 
 
 "You re a coward, and I hope I ve impressed 
 that on you," VB went on, "and you ll take a 
 coward s advantage. Hereafter I m going to 
 carry a gun. You won t fight in my way because
 
 VB FIGHTS 161 
 
 you re not a man, so I 11 have to be prepared for 
 you in your way. I just want to let you know 
 that I understand your breed! That s all. 
 
 "Don t start anything, because I ll fight in 
 two ways hereafter in my way and in yours. 
 And that goes for you other two. If you run 
 with this this thing, it marks you. I know 
 what would have happened if Jed had n t come 
 up. You d have killed me! That s the sort 
 you are. Remember all three of you I m 
 not afraid, but it s a case of fighting fire with 
 fire. I ll be ready." 
 
 Rhues stood, as though waiting for more. 
 
 When VB did not go on he said, just above a 
 whisper : I ll get you yet ! 
 
 And VB answered, "Then I guess we all under 
 stand one another." 
 
 When the three had ridden away Jed shoved 
 his Colt tight into its holster again and looked 
 at the young chap with foreboding. 
 
 "There 11 be trouble, VB ; they re bad," he said. 
 "He s a coward. The story 11 go round an he ll 
 try to get you harder n ever. If he don t, 
 those others will will try, I mean. Matson and 
 Julio are every bit as bad as Rhues, but they 
 ain t quite got his fool nerve. 
 
 "They re a thievin bunch, though it ain t 
 never been proved. Nobody trusts em; most 
 men let em alone an wait fer em to show their 
 hand. They ve been cute; they ve been sus 
 pected, but they ain t never got out on a limb. 
 
 11
 
 162 _! CONQUERED" 
 
 They ve got a lot to cover up, no doubt. But 
 they ve got a grudge now. An when cowards 
 carry grudges look out!" 
 
 "If a man like Rhues were all I had to fear, I 
 should never worry," VB muttered, weak again 
 after the excitement. "He s bad but there 
 are worse things that you can t have the 
 satisfaction of knocking down." 
 
 And his conspiring nostrils smelled whisky in 
 that untainted air.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE DANCE 
 
 YOUNG VB held a twofold interest for the 
 men of Clear River. First, the story of 
 his fight with the Captain spread over the land, 
 percolating to the farthest camps. Men laughed 
 at first. The absurdity of it! Then, their 
 surprise giving way to their appreciation of his 
 attainment, their commendation for the young 
 Easterner soared to superlatively profane heights. 
 
 When he met those who had been strangers 
 before it was to be scrutinized and questioned 
 and frankly, honestly admired. 
 
 Now came another reason for discussing him 
 about bunk-house stoves. He had thrashed 
 Rhues! Great as had been the credit accorded 
 VB for the capture of the stallion, just so great 
 was men s delight caused by the outcome of that 
 other encounter. 
 
 They remembered, then, how Rhues had told 
 of the greenhorn who was afraid to take a drink; 
 how he had made it a purpose to spread stories of 
 ridicule, doing his best to pervert the community s 
 natural desire to let the affairs of others alone. 
 And this recollection of Rhues s bullying was an 
 added reason for their saying : Good ! I m glad to 
 hear it. Too bad th kid did n t beat him to death ! "
 
 164 " I CONQUERED" 
 
 Though his meetings with other men were few 
 and scattered, VB was coming to be liked. It 
 mattered little to others why he was in the country, 
 from where he came, or who he had been. He had 
 accomplished two worthy things among them, and 
 respect was accorded him across vast distances. 
 Dozens of these men had seen him only once, and 
 scores never, yet they reckoned him of their 
 number a man to be taken seriously, worthy 
 of their kindly attention, of their interest, and of 
 their respect. 
 
 Bob Thorpe helped to establish VB in the 
 mountains. He thought much about his inter 
 view with the young chap, and told to a half- 
 dozen men the story which, coming from him, 
 had weight. 
 
 His daughter did not abandon her idea of own 
 ing the Captain. Bob told her repeatedly that 
 it was useless to argue with a man who spoke 
 as did Jed s rider; but the girl chose to disagree 
 with him. 
 
 "I think that if you d flatter him enough if 
 we both would that he would listen. Don t 
 you?" she asked. 
 
 Bob Thorpe shook his head. 
 
 "No," he answered. "You can t convince 
 me of that. You don t know men, and I do. 
 I Ve seen one or two like him before who love 
 a thing of that sort above money; and, I ve found 
 you can t do a thing with em ding em!" 
 
 The girl cried: "Why, don t feel that way
 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE DANCE 165 
 
 about it ! I think it s perfectly fine to love an 
 animal so much that money won t buy him!" 
 
 "Sure it is," answered her father. "That s 
 what makes me out of patience with them. 
 They re they re better men than most of us, 
 and well, they make a fellow feel rather small 
 at times." 
 
 Then he went away, and Gail puzzled over his 
 concluding remark. 
 
 A week to a day after her first visit she drove 
 again to Jed s ranch. 
 
 "I came over to see the Captain," she told 
 the old man gayly. 
 
 "Well, th Captain ain t here now," he an 
 swered, beaming on her; "but VB ll be back with 
 him before noon." 
 
 She looked for what seemed to be an unneces 
 sarily long time at her watch, and then asked: 
 
 "Is that his name?" 
 
 "What th Captain?" 
 
 "No VB." 
 
 Jed laughed silently at her. 
 
 Yep to be sure an that s his name all 
 th name he s got." 
 
 "Well, I wish Mr. VB would hurry back with 
 the Captain," she said. 
 
 But that easy flush was again in her cheeks, 
 and the turn she gave the conversation was, as 
 they say in certain circles, poor footwork. 
 
 Within an hour the Captain bore his rider home. 
 Gail stayed for dinner and ate with the two men.
 
 i66 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 It was a strange meal for VB. Not in months 
 had he eaten at the same table with a woman; 
 not in years had he broken bread with a woman 
 such as this, and realization of the fact carried 
 him back beyond those darkest days. He remem 
 bered suddenly and quite irrelevantly that he 
 once had wondered if this daughter of Bob 
 Thorpe s was to be a connecting link with the 
 old life. That had been when he first learned 
 that the big cattleman had a daughter, and that 
 she was living in his East. Now as he sat before 
 neglected food and watched and listened, feasting 
 his starved spirit on her, noting her genuine 
 vivacity, her enthusiasm, the quick come and go 
 of color in her fine skin, he knew that she was a 
 link, but not with the past that he had feared. 
 She took him back beyond that, into his earlier 
 boyhood, that period of adolescence when, to a 
 clean-minded boy, all things are good and un 
 stained. She was attractive in all the ways that 
 women can be attractive, and at the same time 
 she was more than a desirable individual; she 
 seemed to stand for classes, for modes of living 
 and thinking, that Young VB had put behind 
 him put behind first by his wasting, now by 
 distance. But as the meal progressed a fresh 
 wonder crept up in his mind. Was all that 
 really so very far away? Was not the distance 
 just that between them and the big ranch house 
 under the cotton woods beyond the hills? And 
 was the result of his wasting quite irreparable?
 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE DANCE 167 
 
 Was he not rebuilding what he had torn down? 
 
 He felt himself thrilling and longing suddenly 
 for fresher, newer experiences as the talk ran on 
 between the others. The conversation was wholly 
 of the country, and VB was surprised to discover 
 that this girl could talk intelligently and argue 
 effectively with Jed over local stock conditions 
 when she looked for all the world like any of the 
 hundreds he could pick out on Fifth Avenue at 
 five o clock of any fine afternoon. He corrected 
 himself hastily. She was not like those others, 
 either. She possessed all their physical endow 
 ments, all and more, for her eye was clearer, her 
 carriage better, she was possessed of a color that 
 was no sham; and a finer body. Put her beside 
 them in their own environment, and they would 
 seem stale by comparison ; bring those others 
 here, and their bald artificiality would be pathetic. 
 The boy wanted her to know those things, yet 
 thought of telling her never came to his conscious 
 ness. Subjectively he was humble before her. 
 
 The interest between the two young people was 
 not centered completely in VB. Each time he 
 lowered his gaze to his plate he was conscious of 
 those frank, intelligent blue eyes on him, study 
 ing, prying, wondering, a laugh ever deep within 
 them. Now and then the girl addressed a remark 
 to him, but for the most part she spoke directly 
 to Jed; however, she was studying the boy every 
 instant, quietly, carefully, missing no detail, 
 and by the time the meal neared its end the
 
 168 "_ I CONQUERED" 
 
 laughter had left her eyes and they betrayed 
 a frank curiosity. 
 
 When the meal was finished the girl asked VB 
 to take her to the corral. She made the request 
 lightly, but it smote something in the man a 
 teriffic blow, stirring old memories, fresh desires, 
 and he was strangely glad that he could do some 
 thing for her. As they walked from the cabin 
 to the inclosure he was flushed, embarrassed, 
 awkward. He could not talk to her, could 
 scarcely keep his body from swinging from side 
 to side with schoolbo}^ shyness. 
 
 The stallion did not fidget at sight of the girl 
 as he had done on the approach of other strangers. 
 He snorted and backed away, keeping his eyes 
 on her and his ears up with curiosity, coming to 
 a halt against the far side of the corral and 
 switching his fine tail down over the shapely 
 hocks as though to make these people understand 
 that in spite of his seeming harmlessness he might 
 yet show the viciousness that lurked down in his 
 big heart. 
 
 "I think he ll come to like you," said VB, 
 looking from his horse to the girl. "I don t see 
 how he could help it to like women, under 
 stand," he added hastily when she turned a wide- 
 eyed gaze on him. "He doesn t like strange 
 men, but see he s interested in you; and it s 
 curiosity, not anger. I I don t blame him 
 for being interested," he ventured, and hated him 
 self for the flush that swept up from his neck.
 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE DANCE i6g 
 
 They both laughed, and Gail said: "So this 
 country hasn t taken the flattery out of you?" 
 
 "Why, it s been years years since I said a 
 thing like that to a girl of your sort," VB an 
 swered soberly. 
 
 An awkward pause followed. 
 
 "Dare I touch him?" the girl finally asked. 
 
 "No, I wouldn t to-day," VB advised. "Just 
 let him look at you now. Some other time we ll 
 see if That is, if you 11 ever come to see us 
 to see the Captain again." 
 
 "I should like to come to see the Captain very 
 much, and as often as is proper," she said with 
 mocking demureness. 
 
 And she did come again; and again and yet 
 again. Always she took pains to begin with 
 inquiries about the horse. When she did this 
 in Jed Avery s presence it was with a peculiar 
 avoidance of his gaze, that might have been from 
 embarrassment; when she asked Young VB those 
 questions it was with a queer little teasing smile. 
 A half-dozen times she found the boy alone at 
 the ranch, and the realization that on such occa 
 sions she stayed longer than she did when Jed 
 was about gave him a new thrill of delight. 
 
 At first there was an awkward reserve between 
 them, but after the earlier visits this broke down 
 and their talk became interspersed with personal 
 references, with small, inconsequential confidences 
 that, intrinsically worthless, meant much to them. 
 Yet there was never a word of the life both had
 
 i 7 o _! CONQUERED" 
 
 lived far over the other side of those snowcaps 
 to the eastward. Somehow the girl felt intui 
 tively that it had not all been pleasant for the. 
 man there, and VB maintained a stubborn 
 reticence. He could have told her much of her 
 own life back in the East, of the things she liked, 
 of the events and conditions that were irksome, 
 because he knew the environment in which she 
 had lived and he felt that he knew the girl herself. 
 He would not touch that topic, however, for it 
 would lead straight to his life; and all that he 
 wanted for his thoughts now were Jed and the 
 hills and the Captain and this girl. They 
 composed a comfortable world of which he wanted 
 to be a part. 
 
 Gail found herself feeling strangely at home 
 with this young fellow. She experienced a min 
 gled feeling compounded of her friendship for the 
 finished youths she had known during school days 
 and that which she felt for the men of her moun 
 tains, who were, she knew, as rugged, as genuine, 
 as the hills themselves. To her Young VB rang 
 true from the ground up, and he bore the finish 
 that can come only from contact with many men. 
 That is a rare combination. 
 
 It came about that after a time the Captain 
 let Gail touch him, allowed her to walk about him 
 and caress his sleek body. Always, when she was 
 near, he stood as at attention, dignified and self- 
 conscious, and from time to time his eyes would 
 seek the face of his master, as though for
 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE DANCE 171 
 
 reassurance. Once after the girl had gone VB 
 took the Captain s face between his hands and, 
 looking into the big black eyes, muttered almost 
 fiercely : 
 
 "She s as much of the real stuff as you are, old 
 boy! Do you think, Captain, that I can ever 
 match up with you two?" 
 
 Before a month had gone by the girl could lead 
 the Captain about, could play with him almost 
 as familiarly as VB did; but always the horse 
 submitted as if uninterested, went through this 
 formality of making friends as though it were a 
 duty that bored him. 
 
 Once Dick Worth, the deputy from Sand Creek, 
 and his wife rode up the gulch to see the black 
 stallion. While the Captain would not allow the 
 man near him, he suffered the woman to tweak 
 his nose and slap his cheeks and pull his ears; 
 then it was that Jed and VB knew that the animal 
 understood the difference between sexes and that 
 the chivalry which so became him had been 
 cultivated by his intimacy with Gail Thorpe. 
 
 After that, of course, there was no plausible 
 excuse for Gail s repeated visits. However, she 
 continued coming. VB was always reserved up 
 to a certain point before her, never yielding beyond 
 it in spite of the strength of the subtle tactics she 
 employed to draw him out. A sense of uncer 
 tainty of himself held him aloof. Within him was 
 a traditional respect for women. He idealized 
 them, and then set for men a standard which they
 
 172 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 must attain before meeting women as equals. 
 But this girl, while satisfying his ideal, would 
 not remain aloof. She forced herself into VB s 
 presence, forced herself, and yet with a delicacy 
 that could not be misunderstood. She came 
 regularly, her visits lengthened, and one sunny 
 afternoon as they stood watching the Captain 
 roll she looked up sharply at the man beside her. 
 
 "Why do you keep me at this?" 
 
 "This? What? I don t get your meaning." 
 
 "At coming over here? Why don t you come 
 to see me ? I - Of course, I have n t any fine 
 horse to show you, but " 
 
 Her voice trailed off, with a hint of wounded 
 pride in the tone. The man faced her, stunning 
 surprise in his face. 
 
 "You you don t think I fail to value this 
 friendship of ours?" he demanded, rallying. 
 "You- Why, what can I say to you? It 
 has meant so much to me just seeing you; it s 
 been one of the finest things of this fine country. 
 But I thought I thought it was because of 
 this, "--with a gesture toward the Captain, who 
 stood shaking the dust from his hair with mighty 
 effort. "I thought all along you were interested 
 in the horse; not that you cared about knowing 
 me" 
 
 "Did you really think that?" she broke in. 
 
 VB flushed, then laughed, with an abrupt change 
 -of mood. 
 
 "Well, it began that way," he pleaded weakly.
 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE DANCE 173 
 
 "And you d let it end that way." 
 
 "Oh, no; you don t understand, Miss Thorpe," 
 serious again. "I I can t explain, and you 
 don t understand now. But I ve felt somehow 
 as though it would be presuming too much if I 
 came to see you." 
 
 She looked at him calculatingly a long moment 
 as he twirled his hat and kicked at a pebble with 
 his boot. 
 
 "I think it would be presuming too much if 
 you let me do all the traveling, since you admit 
 that a friendship does exist," she said lightly. 
 
 "Then the only gallant thing for me to do is to 
 call on you." 
 
 "I think so. I m glad you recognize the fact." 
 
 "When shall it be?" 
 
 "Any time. If I m not home, stay until I get 
 back. Daddy likes you. You ll love my mother." 
 
 The vague "any time" occurred three days 
 later. Young VB made a special trip over the 
 hills to the S Bar S. The girl was stretched in a 
 hammock, reading, when he rode up, and at the 
 sound of his horse she scrambled to her feet, 
 flushed, and evidently disconcerted. 
 
 "I d given you up!" she cried. 
 
 "In three days?" taking the hand she offered. 
 
 "Well most boys in the East would have 
 come the next morning if they were really 
 interested." 
 
 "This is Colorado," he reminded her. 
 
 He sat crosslegged on the ground at her feet,
 
 i 7 4 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 and they talked of the book she had been reading. 
 It was a novel of music and a musician and a rare 
 achievement, she said. He questioned her about 
 the story, and their talk drifted to music, on 
 which they both could converse well. 
 
 "You don t know what it means to sit here and 
 talk of these things with you," he said hungrily. 
 
 "Well, I should like to know," she said, leaning 
 forward over her knees. 
 
 For two long hours they talked as they never 
 had talked before; of personal tastes, of kindred 
 enthusiasms, of books and plays and music and 
 people. They went into the ranch house, and 
 Gail played for him on the only grand piano 
 in that section of the state. They came out, and 
 she saddled her pony to ride part way back through 
 the hills with him. 
 
 "Adios, my friend," she called after him, as 
 he swung away from her. 
 
 "It s your turn to call now," he shouted back 
 to her, and when the ridge took him from sight 
 he leaned low to the Captain s ear and repeated 
 gently, - my friend ! 
 
 So the barrier of reserve was broken. VB did 
 not dare think into the future in any connection 
 least of all in relation to this new and growing 
 friendship; yet he wanted to make their under 
 standing more complete though he would scarcely 
 admit that fact even to himself. 
 
 A week had not passed when Gail Thorpe drove 
 the automobile up to the VB gate.
 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE DANCE 175 
 
 "I did n t come to see the Captain this time," 
 she announced to them both. "I came to pay a 
 party call to Mr. VB, and to include Mr. Avery. 
 Because when a girl out here receives a visit 
 from a man it s of party proportions!" 
 
 As she was leaving, she asked, "Why don t you 
 come down to the dance Friday night?" 
 
 "A big event?" 
 
 "Surely!" She laughed merrily. "It s the 
 first one since spring, and everybody 11 be there. 
 Mr. Avery will surely come. Won t you, too, 
 Mr. VB?" 
 
 He evaded her, but when she had turned the 
 automobile about and sped down the road, 
 homeward bound, he let down the bars for youth s 
 romanticism and knew that he would dance with 
 her if it meant walking every one of the twenty-two 
 miles to the schoolhouse. 
 
 For the first time in years VB felt a thrill at 
 the anticipation of a social function, and with it a 
 guilty little thought kept buzzing in the depths 
 of his mind. The thought was: Is her hair as 
 fragrant as it is glorious in color and texture? 
 
 Jed and VB made the ride after supper, over 
 frozen paths, for autumn had aged and the tang of 
 winter was in the air. Miles away they could 
 see the glow of the bonfire that had been built 
 before the little stone schoolhouse; and VB was 
 not sorry that Jed wanted to ride the last stages 
 of the trip at a faster pace.
 
 176 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 Clear River had turned out, to the last man 
 and woman and to the last child, too ! The 
 schoolhouse was no longer a seat of learning; it 
 was a festal bower. The desks had been taken 
 up and placed along the four walls, seats outward, 
 tops forming a ledge against the calcimined stones, 
 making a splendid place for those youngest 
 children who had turned out! Yes, a dozen 
 babies slumbered there in the confusion, wrapped 
 in many thicknesses of blankets. 
 
 Three lamps with polished reflectors were 
 placed on window ledges, and the yellow glare 
 filled the room with just sufficient brilliance to 
 soften lines in faces and wrinkles in gowns that 
 clung to bodies in unexpected places. The fourth 
 window ledge was reserved for the music a 
 phonograph with a morning-glory horn, a green 
 morning-glory horn that would have baffled a 
 botanist. The stove blushed as if for its plain 
 ness in the center of the room, and about it, 
 with a great scraping of feet and profound 
 efforts to be always gentlemanly and at ease, 
 circled the men, guiding their partners. 
 
 VB stood in the doorway and watched. He 
 coughed slightly from the dust that rose and 
 mantled everything with a dulling blanket 
 everything, I said, but the eyes must be excepted. 
 They flashed with as warm a brilliance as they 
 ever do where there is music and dancing and 
 laughter. 
 
 The music stopped. Women scurried to their
 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE DANCE 177 
 
 seats; some lifted the edges of blankets and 
 peered with concerned eyes at the little sleepers 
 lying there, then whirled about and opened their 
 arms to some new gallant; for so brief was the 
 interval between dances. 
 
 "Well, are you never going to see me?" 
 
 VB started at the sound of Gail s voice so close 
 to him. He bowed and smiled at her. 
 
 I was interested, he said in excuse. Getting 
 my bearings." 
 
 She did not reply, but the expectancy in her face 
 forced his invitation, and they joined the swirl 
 about the stove. 
 
 "I can t dance in these riding boots," he 
 confided with an embarrassed laugh. "Never 
 thought about it until now." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you can! You dance much better 
 than most men. Don t stop, please!" 
 
 He knew that no woman who danced with 
 Gail s lightness could find pleasure in the stum 
 bling, stilted accompaniment of his handicapped 
 feet ; and the conviction sent a fresh thrill through 
 him. He was glad she wanted him to keep on! 
 She had played upon the man down in him and 
 touched upon vanity, one of those weak spots in 
 us. She wanted him near. His arm, spite of 
 his caution, tightened a trifle and he suddenly 
 knew that her hair was as fragrant as it should 
 be a heavy, rich odor that went well with its 
 other wealth ! For an instant he was a bit giddy, 
 but as the music came to a stop he recovered 
 
 12
 
 178 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 himself and walked silently beside Gail to a seat. 
 
 After that he danced with the wife of a cattle 
 man, and answered absently her stammered 
 advances at communication while he watched the 
 floating figure of Gail Thorpe as it followed the 
 bungling lead of her father s foreman. 
 
 The end of the intermission found him with her 
 again. As they whirled away his movements 
 became a little quicker, his tongue a little looser. 
 It had been a long time since he had felt so gay. 
 
 He learned of the other women, Gail telling 
 him about them as they danced, and through the 
 thrill that her warm breath aroused he found 
 himself delighting in the individuality of her 
 expression, the stamping of a characteristic in his 
 mind by a queer little word or twisted phrase. 
 He discovered, too, that she possessed a penetrat 
 ing insight into the latent realities of life. The 
 red-handed, blunt, strong women about him, who 
 could ride with their husbands and brothers, who 
 could face hardships, who knew grim elementals, 
 became new beings under the interpretation of this 
 sunny-haired girl; took on a charm tinged with 
 pathos that brought up within VB a sympathy 
 that those struggles in himself had all but buried. 
 And the knowledge that Gail appreciated those 
 raw realities made him look down at her linger- 
 ingly, a trifle wonderingly. 
 
 She was of that other life the life of refine 
 ments in so many ways, yet she had escaped 
 its host of artificialities. She had lifted herself
 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE DANCE 179 
 
 above the people among whom she was reared; 
 but her touch, her sympathies, her warm human- 
 ness remained unalloyed! She was real. 
 
 And then, when he was immersed in this 
 appreciation of her, she turned the talk suddenly 
 to him. He was but slightly responsive. He put 
 her off, evaded, but he laughed ; his cold reluctance 
 to let her know him had ceased to be so stern, 
 and her determination to get behind his silence 
 rose. 
 
 As they stood in the doorway in a midst of 
 repartee she burst on him: 
 
 "Mr. VB, why do you go about with that awful 
 name? It s almost as bad as being branded." 
 
 He sobered so quickly that it frightened her. 
 
 "Maybe I am branded," he said slowly, and her 
 agile understanding caught the significance of his 
 tone. "Perhaps I m branded and can t use 
 another. Who knows?" 
 
 He smiled at her, but from sobered eyes. 
 Confused by his evident seriousness, she made 
 one more attempt, and laughed: "Well, if you 
 won t tell me who you are, won t you please tell 
 me what you are?" 
 
 The door swung open then, and on the heels of 
 her question came voices from without. One 
 voice rose high above the rest, and they heard: 
 "Aw, come on; le s have jus one more little drag 
 at th bottle!" 
 
 VB looked at Gail a bit wildly. 
 
 Those words meant that out there whisky was
 
 i8o "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 waiting for him, and at its mention that searing 
 thing sprang alive in his throat! 
 
 "What am I?" he repeated dully, trying to 
 rally himself. "What am I?" Unknowingly 
 his fingers gripped her arm. "Who knows? 
 I don t!" 
 
 And he flung out of the place, wanting but one 
 thing to be with the Captain, to feel the stal 
 lion s nose in his arms, to stand close to the body 
 which housed a spirit that knew no defeat. 
 
 As he strode past the bonfire a man s face leered 
 at him from the far side. The man was Rhues.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MURDER 
 
 T > HE incident at the schoolhouse was not 
 - overlooked. Gail Thorpe was not the only 
 one who heard and saw and understood; others 
 connected the mention of drink with VB s sudden 
 departure. The comment went around in whis 
 pers at the dance, to augment and amplify those 
 other stories which had arisen back in the Anchor 
 bunk house and which had been told by Rhues 
 of the meeting in Ranger. 
 
 "Young VB is afraid to take a drink," declared 
 a youth to a group about the fire where they 
 discussed the incident. 
 
 He laughed lightly and Dick Worth looked 
 sharply at the boy. 
 
 "Mebby he is," he commented, reprimand in 
 his tone, "an mebby it d be a good thing for some 
 o you kids if you was afraid. Don t laugh at 
 him ! We know he s pretty much man cause 
 he s done real things since comin in here a rank 
 greenhorn. Don t laugh ! You ought to help, 
 instead o that." 
 
 And the young fellow, taking the rebuke, 
 admitted: "I guess you re right. Maybe the 
 booze has put a crimp in him." 
 
 So VB gave the community one more cause for 
 
 181
 
 i8 2 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 watching him. Quick to perceive, ever taking 
 into consideration his achievements which spoke 
 of will and courage, Clear River gave him silent 
 sympathy, and promptly put the matter out of 
 open discussion. It was no business of theirs so 
 long as VB kept it to himself. Yet they watched, 
 knowing a fight was being waged and guessing at 
 the outcome, the older and wiser ones hoping 
 while they guessed. 
 
 When Bob Thorpe announced to his daughter 
 that he was going to Jed Avery s ranch and 
 would like to have her drive him over through 
 the first feathery dusting of snow, a strain of 
 unpleasant thinking which had endured for three 
 days was broken for the girl. In fact, her relief 
 was so evident that the cattleman stared hard at 
 his daughter. 
 
 "You re mighty enthusiastic about that place, 
 seems to me," he remarked. 
 
 "Why should n t I be?" she asked. "There s 
 where they keep the finest horse in this country!" 
 
 "Is that all?" he asked, a bit grimly. 
 
 She looked at him and laughed. Then, coming 
 close, she patted one of the weathered cheeks. 
 
 "He s awfully nice, daddy and so myste 
 rious!" 
 
 The giggle she forced somehow reassured him. 
 He did not know it was forced. 
 
 They arrived at Jed s ranch as Kelly, the 
 horse buyer, was preparing to depart after long 
 weeks in the country. His bunch was in the
 
 MURDER 183 
 
 lower pasture and two saddle horses waited at the 
 gate. 
 
 Thorpe and his daughter found Jed, VB, and 
 Kelly in the cabin. The horse buyer was just 
 putting bills back into his money belt, and Jed 
 still fingered the roll that he had taken for his 
 horses. 
 
 "Aren t you afraid to pack all that around, 
 Kelly?" Thorpe asked. 
 
 "No nobody holds people up any more," he 
 laughed. "There s only an even six hundred 
 there, anyhow and a fifty-dollar bill issued by 
 the Confederate States of America, which I carry 
 for luck. My father was a raider with Morgan," 
 he explained, "and I was fifteen years old before 
 I knew damn Yank was two words!" 
 
 VB was preparing to go with the buyer, to ride 
 the first two days at least to help him handle 
 the bunch. They expected to make it well out 
 of Ranger the second day, and after that Kelly 
 would pick up another helper. 
 
 Gail followed VB when he went outside. 
 
 "I m going away, too," she said. 
 
 "So?"- 
 
 "Yes; mother and I will leave for California 
 day after to-morrow, for the winter." 
 
 "That will be fine!" 
 
 "Will I be missed?" 
 
 He shrank from this personal talk. He 
 remembered painfully their last meeting. He 
 was acutely conscious of how it had ended, and
 
 184 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 knew that the incident of his abrupt departure 
 must have set her wondering. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, meeting her answer 
 truthfully, "I shall miss you. I like you." 
 
 Such a thing from him was indeed a jolt, and 
 Gail stooped to pick up a wisp of hay to cover her 
 confusion. 
 
 "But I m sorry," he said, "I must be going." 
 
 She looked up in surprise. The horse buyer 
 still talked and the discussion bade fair to go on 
 for a long time. 
 
 "You re not starting?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh, no. Not for half an hour, anyhow. But 
 you see, the Captain found a pup-hole yesterday 
 and wrenched his leg a little. Not much, but 
 I don t want him to work when anything s wrong. 
 So I m leaving him behind and I must look after 
 him. Will you excuse me? Good-by!" 
 
 She was so slow in extending her hand that he 
 was forced to reach down for it. It was limp 
 within his, and she merely mumbled a response 
 to his hasty farewell. 
 
 Gail watched him swing off toward the corral, 
 saw him enter through the gate and put his 
 face against the stallion s neck. She strolled 
 toward the car, feet heavy. 
 
 He would n t even ask me to go go with him. 
 He cares more about that horse than " 
 
 She clenched her fists and whispered: "I 
 hate you! I hate you!" Then mounting to the 
 seat and tucking the robe about her ankles, she
 
 MURDER 185 
 
 blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and in a voice 
 strained high said: "No, I don t, either." 
 
 VB and Kelly took their bunch down the gulch 
 at a spanking trot. Most of the stock was fairly 
 gentle and they had little difficulty. They planned 
 to stop at a deserted cabin a few miles north 
 of Ranger where a passable remnant of fenced 
 pasture still remained. They reached the place 
 at dark and made a hasty meal, after which 
 VB rolled in, but his companion roped a fresh 
 horseand made on to Ranger for a few hours 
 diversion. 
 
 It was nearly dawn when Kelly returned with a 
 droll account of the night s poker, and although 
 VB was for going on early, wanting to be rid of 
 the task, the other insisted on sleeping. 
 
 "I don t want to get too far, anyhow," he 
 said. Those waddies like to rimmed me last 
 night. Got all I had except what s in old Betsy, 
 the belt. I m goin back to-night and get their 
 scalp!" 
 
 It was noon before they reached Ranger and 
 swung to the east. 
 
 Oh, I 11 be back to-night and get you fellows ! " 
 Kelly called to a man who waved to him from the 
 saloon. 
 
 VB held his gaze in the opposite direction. He 
 knew that even the sight of the place might raise 
 the devil in him again. 
 
 A man emerged from one of the three isolated 
 shacks down on the river bank. It was Rhues.
 
 186 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 The two rode slowly, for the buyer was in no 
 mood for fast travel, and for a long time Rhues 
 stood there following them with his eyes. 
 
 At dusk the horsemen turned the bunch into a 
 corral and prepared to spend the night with beds 
 spread in the ruin of a cabin near the inclosure. 
 Before the bed-horses had been relieved of their 
 burdens a cowboy rode along who was known to 
 Kelly, and arrangements were made for him to 
 take VB s place on the morrow. 
 
 "Well, then, all you want me to do is to stay 
 here to-night to see that things don t go wrong. 
 Is that it?" VB asked. 
 
 "Yep Oh, I don t know," with a yawn. 
 "I guess I won t sit in that game to-night. I ll 
 get some sleep. Mebby if I did go back I d only 
 have to dig up part of my bank here." He 
 patted his waist. "You can go on home if you 
 want to." 
 
 VB was glad to be released, for he could easily 
 reach the ranch that night. He left Kelly talking 
 with the cowboy, making their plans for the next 
 day, and struck across the country for Jed s ranch. 
 
 Left alone, the horse buyer munched a cold 
 meal. Then, shivering, he crept into his thick 
 bed and slept. An hour passed two three. 
 
 A horse dropped slowly off a point near the 
 corral. A moment later two more followed. 
 One rider dismounted and walked away after a 
 low, hoarse w r hisper; another pushed his horse
 
 MURDER 187 
 
 into the highway and stood still, listening; the 
 third held the pony that had been left riderless. 
 
 A figure, worming its way close to the ground, 
 crawled up on the sleeping horse buyer. It 
 moved silently, a yard at a time; then stopped, 
 raised its head as though to listen; on again, 
 ominously, so much a part of the earth it covered 
 that it might have been just the ridge raised by 
 a giant mole burrowing along under the surface. 
 It approached to within three yards of the sleep 
 ing man; to within six feet; three; two. 
 
 Then it rose to its knees slowly, cautiously, 
 silently, and put out a hand gently, lightly feeling 
 the outlines of the blankets. A shoot of orange 
 scorched the darkness and another, so close 
 together that the flame was almost continuous. 
 The blankets heaved, trembled, settled. 
 
 The man on his knees hovered a long moment, 
 revolver ready, listening intently. Not a sound 
 even the horses seemed to be straining their ears 
 for another break in the night. 
 
 The man reached out a hand and drew the 
 blankets away from the figure beneath, thrusting 
 his face close. The starlight filtered in and he 
 drew a long, quivering breath not in hate 
 or horror, but in surprise. He got to his feet 
 and listened again. Then he moved into the 
 open, over the way he had come. After a dozen 
 quick, stealthy paces he stopped and turned back. 
 He unbuttoned the jumper about the figure 
 under the blankets, unbuttoned the shirt, felt
 
 i83 " I CONQUERED" 
 
 quickly about the waist, fumbled a moment, and 
 jerked out a long, limp object. Again he strode 
 catlike into the open, and as he went he tucked 
 the money belt into his shirt-front. 
 
 VB rode straight to the ranch. He made a 
 quick ride and arrived before ten. 
 
 "Mighty glad Kelly got that man," he told 
 Jed. "I m. like a fish out of water away from 
 the Captain." 
 
 At dusk the next day a horseman rode up the 
 gulch to Jed s outfit. The old man stood in the 
 doorway, watching him approach. 
 
 "Hello, Dick!" he called, recognizing the deputy 
 from Sand Creek. 
 
 "How s things, Jed?" 
 
 " Better n fine." 
 
 Worth left his horse and entered the cabin. 
 
 "VB around?" he asked. 
 
 "Uh-huh; out in th corral foolin with th 
 Captain." 
 
 Dick dropped to a chair and pushed his hat 
 back. He looked on the other a moment, then 
 asked : What time did VB get home last night ? 
 
 Jed showed evident surprise, but answered: 
 "Between half -past nine an ten." 
 
 "Notice his horse?" 
 
 "Saw him this mornin . Why?" 
 
 "Was it a hard ride th boy made?" 
 
 "No sure not. I rode th pony down to 
 th lower pasture myself this afternoon."
 
 MURDER 189 
 
 Worth drew a deep breath and smiled as though 
 relieved. 
 
 "Bein n officer is mighty onpleasant some 
 times," he confessed. "I knew it wasn t no 
 use to ask them questions, but I had to do it 
 cause I m a deputy." With mouth set, Jed 
 waited for the explanation he knew must come. 
 
 "Kelly was killed while he slept last night." 
 
 Horror was the first natural impulse for a 
 man to experience on the knowledge of such a 
 tragedy, but horror did not come to Jed Avery 
 then or for many minutes. He put out a hand 
 slowly and felt for the table as though dizzy. 
 
 Then, in a half tone, "You don t mean you sus 
 pected VB ? Dick Dick! 
 
 The sheriff s face became troubled. 
 
 "Jed, didn t I tell you I knew it wasn t no 
 use to ask them questions?" he said reassuringly. 
 "I d a gambled my outfit on th boy, cause I 
 know what he is. When you tell me he got here 
 by ten an it was n t a hard ride, I know they s 
 no use even thinkin about it. But th fact is 
 
 "You see, Jed, everybody in th country has 
 got to know what s up with VB. They know 
 he s fightin back th booze! That gang o 
 skunks down at Ranger Rhues an his outfit - 
 started out to rub it into VB, but everybody 
 knew they was tellin lies. An everybody s 
 thought lots of him fer th fight he s made." 
 
 He got to his feet and walked slowly about the 
 room.
 
 igo "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 "But th truth is, Jed an you know it 
 when a man s been hittin th booze, an we 
 ain t sure he s beat it out, we re always lookin 
 fer him to slip. Nobody down at Ranger has 
 thought one word about VB in this, only that 
 mebby he could tell who d been round there. 
 
 "But, bein n officer, I had th sneakin , dirty 
 idee I ought to ask them questions about VB. 
 That s all there is to it, Jed. That s all! I m 
 deputy; VB s been a boozer. 
 
 But I tell you, Jed A very, it sure s a relief 
 to know it s all right." 
 
 The warmth of sincerity was in his tone and his 
 assurances had been of the best, but Jed slumped 
 limply into a chair and rested his head on his hands. 
 
 "It s a rotten world, Dick a rotten, rotten 
 world!" he said. "I know you re all right; I 
 know you mean what you say; but ain t it a 
 shame that when a man s down our first thought 
 is to kick him? Always expect him to fall again 
 once he gets up! Ain t it rotten?" 
 
 And his love for Young VB, stirred anew by 
 this sense of the injustice of things, welled into 
 his throat, driving back more words. 
 
 Dick Worth was a man of golden integrity; 
 Jed knew well that no suspicion would be cast 
 on VB. But the knowledge that serious-minded, 
 clear-thinking men like the deputy would always 
 remember, in a time like this, that those who had 
 once run wild might fall into the old ways at any 
 hour, stung him like a lash.
 
 MURDER 191 
 
 VB opened the door. 
 
 "Hello, Dick!" he greeted cheerily. "Want 
 me?" 
 
 Worth laughed and Jed started. 
 
 "No; I come up to get a little help from you 
 if I can, though." 
 
 "Help?" 
 
 "Kelly was shot dead in his bed last night." 
 
 For a moment VB stared at him. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "That s what we don t know. That s what I 
 came up here for to see if you could help us." 
 
 And Jed, face averted, drew a foot quickly 
 across the boards of the floor. 
 
 One of Hank Redden s boys was with him 
 th one who took your place until dark. Little 
 after eight old Hank heard two shots, but did n t 
 think nothin of it. Kelly was shot twice. 
 That must a been th time." 
 
 VB put down his hat, his eyes bright with 
 excitement. 
 
 "He d planned to go back to Ranger," he said. 
 "But, after being up most of the night before, 
 he was too tired. He told them at Ranger he d 
 be back. And if I d been there they d have got 
 me," he ended. 
 
 "Unless they was lookin for Kelly especial," 
 said Dick. "They took his money belt." 
 
 "Mebby," muttered Jed, "mebby they made 
 a mistake."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE CANDLE BURNS 
 
 TIME went on, and the country dropped 
 back from the singing pitch of excitement 
 to which the killing of the horse buyer raised it. 
 Men agreed that some one of thac country had 
 fired the shots into that blanket, but it is not a 
 safe thing to suspect too openly. Dick Worth 
 worked continually, but his efforts were without 
 result. A reward of two hundred and fifty 
 dollars for the slayer, dead or alive, disclosed 
 nothing. 
 
 After the evidence had been sifted, and each 
 man had asked his quota of questions and passed 
 judgment on the veracity of the myriad stories, 
 Dick said to himself: "We ll settle down now 
 and see who leaves the country." 
 
 Jed and VB went about the winter s work in 
 a leisurely way. For days after the visit of 
 Worth the old man was quieter than usual. The 
 realization of how the world looked on this young 
 fellow he had come to love had been driven in 
 upon him. There could be no mistaking it; and 
 as he reasoned the situation out, he recognized 
 the attitude of men as the only logical thing to 
 expect. 
 
 With his quietness came a new tenderness, n 
 
 192
 
 THE CANDLE BURNS 193 
 
 deeper devotion. The two sat, one night, listen 
 ing to the drawing of the stove and the whip 
 of the wind as it sucked down the gulch. 
 The candle burned steadily in its bottle. Jed 
 watched it a long time, and, still gazing at the 
 steady flame, he said, as though unconscious that 
 thoughts found vocal expression: "Th candle s 
 burnin bright, VB." 
 
 The other looked slowly around at it and 
 smiled. 
 
 "Yes, Jed; it surely burns bright." 
 
 At the instant an unusually vicious gust of 
 wind rattled the windows and a vagrant draft 
 caught the flame of the taper, bending it low, 
 dulling its orange. 
 
 "But yet sometimes," the younger man went 
 on, "something comes along something that 
 makes it flicker that takes some of the assur 
 ance from it." 
 
 Jed had started in his chair as the flame bowed 
 before the draft. 
 
 "But it You ain t been flickerin lately, 
 have you?" he asked, with a look in the old eyea 
 that was beseeching. 
 
 Young VB rose and commenced to walk about 
 thumbs hooked in his belt. 
 
 "I don t know, Jed," he said. "That s th 
 whole of it: I don t know. Sometimes I m gla<* 
 I don t ; but other times I wish wish tha 
 whatever is coming would come. I seem to bt. 
 gaining; I can think of drink now without going 
 
 13
 
 i 9 4 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 crazy. Now and then it gets hold of me; but 
 moving around and getting busy stifles it. Still, 
 I know it s there. That s what counts. I know 
 I ve had the habit, been dow r n and out, and 
 there s no telling which way it s going to turn. 
 If I could ever be sure of myself; if I could ever 
 come right up against it, where I needed a drink, 
 where I wanted it then, if I could refuse, 
 I d be sure." 
 
 He quickened his stride. 
 
 "Seems to me you re worryin needless," Jed 
 argued. "Don t you see, VB, this is th worst 
 night we ve had; th worst wind. An yet it 
 ain t blowed th candle out! It bends low an 
 gets smoky, to be sure. But it always keeps 
 on shinin !" 
 
 "But when it bends low and gets smoky its 
 resistance is lower," VB said. "It wouldn t 
 take much at such a time to blow it out and let 
 the darkness come in. You never can tell, Jed; 
 you never can tell." 
 
 Ten minutes later he added : Especially when 
 you re afraid of yourself and dare n t hunt out 
 a test." 
 
 Another time they talked of the man that he 
 had been before he came to Colt. They were 
 riding the hills, the Captain snuggling close to the 
 pinto pony Jed rode. The sun poured its light 
 down on the white land. Far away, over on the 
 divide, they could see huge spirals of snow picked 
 up by the wind and carried along countless miles,
 
 GREAT MOMENTS 203 
 
 black s head and laughed happily into the soft 
 neck. 
 
 "VB, you re a fool a silly fool!" he whis 
 pered. 
 
 But if it was so, if being a fool made him that 
 happy, he never wanted to regain mental balance. 
 
 It was a big evening for VB, perhaps the biggest 
 of his life. Bob Thorpe and his family ate with 
 the men. Democracy unalloyed was in his soul. 
 He mingled with them not through condescension, 
 but through desire, and his family maintained 
 the same bearing. Not a cow-puncher in the 
 country but who respected Mrs. Thorpe and 
 Gail and would welcome an opportunity to fight 
 for them. 
 
 The men had finished their meal before VB 
 and Jed entered. Mrs. Thorpe made excuses 
 and went out, leaving the four alone. While 
 Jed talked to her father, Gail, elbows on the 
 table, chatted with VB, and Young VB could 
 only stare at his plate and snatch a glance at 
 her occasionally and wonder why it was that 
 she so disturbed him. 
 
 Later Bob took Jed into his office, and when 
 Gail and VB were left alone the constraint be 
 tween them became even more painful. Try as 
 he would, the man could not bring his scattered 
 wits together for coherent speech. Just being 
 beside that girl after her long absence was intoxi 
 cating, benumbing his mind, stifling in him all 
 thought and action, creating a thralldom which
 
 204 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 was at once agony and peace. An intuitive 
 sensing of this helplessness had made him delay 
 seeing her that evening; now that he was before 
 her he never wanted to leave; he wanted only to 
 sit and listen to her voice and watch the alert 
 expressiveness of her face a mute, humble 
 worshiper. 
 
 And this attitude of his forced a reaction on 
 the girl. At first she talked vivaciously, starting 
 each new subject with an enthusiasm that seemed 
 bound to draw him out, but when he remained 
 dumb and helpless in spite of her best efforts 
 to keep the conversation going, her flow of words 
 lagged. Long, wordless intervals followed, and 
 a flush came into the girl s cheeks, and she too 
 found herself woefully self-conscious. She sought 
 for the refuge of diversion. 
 
 "Since you won t talk to me, Mr. VB," she 
 said with an embarrassed laugh, "you are going 
 to force me to play for you." 
 
 "It isn t that I won t I can t," he stanr 
 mered. "And please play." 
 
 He sat back in his chair, relieved, and watched 
 the fine sway of her body as she made the big v 
 full-toned instrument give up its soul. Music, 
 that not the tunes that most girls of his 
 acquaintance had played for him; a St. Saens 
 arrangement, a MacDowell sketch, a bit of Nevin, 
 running from one theme into another, easily, 
 naturally, grace everywhere, from the phrasing 
 to the movements of her firm little shoulders.
 
 GREAT MOMENTS 205 
 
 And VB found his self-possession returning, found 
 that he was thinking evenly, sanely, under the 
 quieting influence of this music. 
 
 Then Gail paused, sitting silent before the 
 keyboard, as though to herald a coming climax. 
 She leaned closer over the instrument and struck 
 into the somber strains of a composition of such 
 grim power and beauty that it seemed to create 
 for itself an oddly receptive attitude in the man, 
 sensitizing his emotional nature to a point where 
 its finest shades were brought out in detail. It 
 went on and on through its various phases to 
 the end, and on the heavy final chord the girl s 
 hands dropped into her lap. For a moment she sat 
 still bent toward the keyboard before turning to 
 him. When she did face about her flush was gone. 
 She was again mistress of the situation and said: 
 
 "Well, are you ever going to tell me about 
 yourself?" 
 
 VB s brows were drawn, and his eyes closed, 
 but before he opened them to look at her a 
 peculiar smile came over his face. 
 
 "That man Chopin, and his five-flat prelude 
 he said, and stirred with a helpless little gesture 
 of one hand as though no words could convey 
 the appreciation he felt. 
 
 "I wonder if you like that as well as I do?" 
 she asked. 
 
 He sat forward in his chair and looked hard at 
 her. The constraint was wholly gone; he was 
 seriously intent, thinking clearing, steadily now.
 
 2o6 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 "I used to hear it many times," he said slowly, 
 "and each time I ve heard it, it has meant more 
 to me. There s something about it, deep down, 
 covered up by all those big tones, that I never 
 could understand until now. I guess," he 
 faltered, "I guess I ve never realized how much 
 a man has to suffer before he can do a big thing 
 like that. Something about this," -with a 
 gesture of his one hand, "this house and these 
 hills, and what I ve been through out here, and 
 the way you play, helps me to understand what 
 an accomplishment like that must have cost." 
 
 She looked at him out of the blue eyes that had 
 become so grave, and said: 
 
 "I guess we all have to suffer to do big things; 
 but did you ever think how much we have to 
 suffer to appreciate big things?" 
 
 And she went on talking in this strain with a 
 low, even voice, talking for hours, it seemed, while 
 VB listened and wondered at her breadth of view, 
 her sympathy and understanding, 
 
 She was no longer a little, sunny-haired girl, a 
 bit of pretty down floating along through life. 
 Before, he had looked on her as such; true, he 
 had known her as sympathetic, balanced, with a 
 keen appreciation of values. But her look, her 
 tone, her insight into somber, grim truths came 
 out with emphasis in the atmosphere created 
 by that music, and to Young VB, Gail Thorpe 
 had become a woman. 
 
 A silence came, and they sat through it with
 
 GREAT MOMENTS 207 
 
 that ease which comes only to those who are in 
 harmony. No constraint now, no flushed faces, 
 no awkward meeting of eyes. The new under 
 standing which had come made even silence 
 eloquent and satisfying. 
 
 Then the talk commenced, slowly at first, 
 gradually quickening. It was of many things - 
 of her winter, of her days in the East, of her 
 friends. And through it Gail took the lead, 
 talking as few women had ever talked to him 
 before; talking of personalities, yet deviating 
 from them to deduce a principle here, apply a 
 maxim there, and always showing her humanness 
 by building the points about individuals and the 
 circumstances which surround them. 
 
 "Don t you ever get lonely here?" he asked 
 abruptly, thinking that she must have moments 
 of discontent in these mountains and with these 
 people. 
 
 "No. Why should I?" 
 
 "Well, you ve been used to things of a different 
 sort. It seems to be a little rough for a girl 
 like you." 
 
 "And why shouldn t a nicer community be 
 too fine for a girl like me? " she countered. "I m 
 of this country, you know. It s mine." 
 
 "I hadn t thought of that. You re different 
 from these people, and yet," he went on, "you re 
 not like most women outside, either. You ve 
 seemed to combine the best of the two extremes. 
 You"
 
 208 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 He looked up to see her gazing at him with a 
 light of triumph in her face. VB never knew, but 
 it was that hour for which she had waited months, 
 ever since the time when she declared to her 
 father, with a welling admiration for the spirit 
 he must have, that he who broke the Captain 
 was a man. 
 
 Here he was before her, talking personalities, 
 analyzing her! Four months before he would 
 not even linger to say good-by! Surely the spell 
 of her womanhood was on him. 
 
 "Oh!" she cried, bringing her hands together. 
 "So you ve been thinking about me what 
 sort of a girl I am, have you?" 
 
 Her eyes were aflame with the light of conquest. 
 
 Then she said soberly: "Well, it s nice :o 
 have people taking you seriously, anyhow." 
 
 "That s all any of us want," he answered her; 
 "to be taken seriously, and to be worthy of com 
 manding such an attitude from the people about 
 us. Sometimes we don t realize it until we ve 
 thrown away our best chances and then well, 
 maybe it s too late." 
 
 On the words he felt a sudden misgiving, a 
 sudden waning of faith. And, bringing confusion 
 to his ears, was the low voice of this girl- woman 
 saying: "I understand, VB, I understand. And 
 it s never too late to mend!" 
 
 Her hand lay in her lap, and almost uncon 
 sciously he reached out for it. It came to meet 
 his, frankly, quickly, and his frame was racked
 
 GREAT MOMENTS 209 
 
 by a great, dry sob which came from the depths 
 of his soul. 
 
 "Oh, do you understand, Gail?" he whispered 
 doubtfully. "Can you without knowing?" 
 
 He had her hands in both his and strained 
 forward, his face close to hers. The small, firm 
 fingers clutched his hardened ones almost des 
 perately and the blue eyes, so wide now, looking 
 at him so earnestly, were filmed with tears. 
 
 "I think I ve understood all along," she said, 
 keeping her voice even at the cost of great effort. 
 "I don t know it all the detail, I mean. I 
 don t need to. I know you ve been fighting, 
 VB, nobly, bravely. I know 
 
 He rose to his feet and drew her up with him, 
 pulling her close to him, closer and closer. One 
 arm slipped down over her shoulders, uncer 
 tainly, almost timidly. His face bent toward hers, 
 slowly, tenderly, and she lifted her lips to meet it. 
 It was the great moment of his life. Words were 
 out of place; they would have been puerile, dis 
 turbing sounds, a mockery instead of an agency 
 to convey an idea of the strength of his emotions. 
 He could feel her breath on his cheek, and for an 
 instant he hung above her, delaying the kiss, 
 trembling with the tremendous passion within him. 
 
 And then he backed away from her awk 
 wardly, threatening to fall, a limp hand raised 
 toward the girl as though to warn her off. 
 
 "Oh, Gail, forgive me!" he moaned. "Not 
 yet! Great God, Gail, I m not worthy!" 
 
 14
 
 210 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 His hoarse voice mounted and he stood backed 
 against the far wall, fists clenched and stiff arms 
 upraised. She took a faltering step toward him. 
 
 Don t ! she begged. You are you - 
 
 But he was gone into the night, banging the 
 door behind him, while the girl leaned against 
 her piano and let the tears come. 
 
 He was not worthy! He loved; she knew he 
 loved; she had come to meet that great binding, 
 enveloping emotion willingly, frank with the joy 
 of it, as became her fine nature. Then he had 
 run from her, and for her own sake! All the 
 ordeals he had been through in those last months 
 were as brief, passing showers compared with the 
 tempest that raged in him as he rode through the 
 night; and it continued through the hours of light 
 and of darkness for many days. Young VB was 
 a man who feared his own love, and beyond that 
 there can be no greater horror. 
 
 He sought solace in the Captain, in driving 
 himself toward the high mark he had set out to 
 attain, but the ideal exemplified in the noble 
 animal seemed more unattainable than ever and 
 he wondered at times if the victory he sought 
 were not humanly impossible. The knowledge 
 that only by conquering himself could he keep 
 his love for Gail Thorpe unsullied never left him, 
 and beside it a companion haunter stalked through 
 and through his consciousness the fact that 
 they had declared themselves to each other. He 
 was carrying not alone the responsibility of
 
 GREAT MOMENTS 211 
 
 reclaiming his own life; he must also answer for 
 the happiness of a woman! 
 
 In those days came intervals when he wondered 
 if this thing were really love. Might it not be 
 something else a passing hysteria, a reaction 
 from the inner battle? But he knew it was a 
 love stronger than his will, stronger than his 
 great tempter, stronger than the prompting to 
 think of the future when he saw the Thorpe 
 automobile coming up the road that spring day 
 on the first trip the girl had made to the ranch 
 that year. And under the immense truth of the 
 realization he became bodily weak. 
 
 Doubt of his strength, too, became more real, 
 more insistent than it had ever been; its hateful 
 power mingled with the thirst, and his heart 
 was rent. What if that love should prove 
 stronger than this discretion which he had re 
 tained at such fearful cost, and drag him to her 
 with the stigma he still bore and wreck her! 
 
 Gail saw the constraint in him the instant she 
 left the car, and though their handclasp was firm 
 and long and understanding, it sobered her smile. 
 
 She tried to start him talking on many things 
 as they sat alone in the log house, but it was 
 useless. He did not respond. So, turning to the 
 subject that had always roused him, that she 
 knew to be so close to his heart, she asked for 
 the Captain. 
 
 "In the corral," said VB, almost listlessly. 
 "We ll go out."
 
 212 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 So they went together and looked through the 
 gate at the great animal. The Captain stepped 
 close and stretched his nose for Gail to rub, 
 pushing gently against her hand in response. 
 
 "Oh, you noble thing!" she whispered to him. 
 "When you die, is all that strength of yours to 
 be w r asted? Can t it be given to some one else?" 
 
 She looked full on VB, then down at the ground, 
 and said : "You ve never told me how you broke 
 the Captain. No one in the country knows. 
 They know that he almost killed you; that you 
 fought him a whole week. But no one knows 
 how. Won t won t you tell me? I want to 
 know, because it was a real achievement and 
 yours." 
 
 He met her gaze when it turned upward, and 
 for many heartbeats they stood so, looking at each 
 other. Then VB s eyes wavered and he moved 
 a step, leaning on the bars and staring moodily 
 at the stallion. 
 
 "It hurts to think about it," he said. "I 
 don t like to remember. That is why I have never 
 told any one. It hurt him and it hurt me." 
 
 She waited through the silence that followed 
 Jor him to go on. 
 
 "I ve worked and rubbed it and curried it, 
 and nursed the hair to grow over the place. It 
 tooks just like a cinch mark now like the mark 
 of service. No one would ever notice. But it 
 is n t a mark of labor. I marked the Captain - 
 I had to do it had to make him understand
 
 GREAT MOMENTS 213 
 
 me. It laid his side open, and all the nursing, 
 all the care I could give would n t make up for 
 it. It s there. The Captain knows it; so do I." 
 
 She followed his gaze to the little rough spot 
 far down on the sleek side. 
 
 "All wild things have to be broken," she said. 
 "None of them ever become tame of their own 
 volition. And in the breaking a mark is invari 
 ably left. The memory hurts, but the mark 
 means nothing of itself, once it is healed. Don t 
 you realize that? 
 
 "We all bear marks. The marks of our envi 
 ronment, the marks of our friends, the marks of 
 those we we love. Some of them hurt for a 
 time, but in the end it is all good. Don t you 
 believe that? We see those who are very dear 
 to us suffer, and it marks us; sometimes just 
 loving leaves its mark. But those are the 
 greatest things in the world. They re sacred. 
 
 "The marks on a woman who goes through 
 fire for a man, say ; the marks of a a mother. 
 They hurt, but in the end they make the bond 
 tighter, more holy." 
 
 She waited. Then asked again: "Don t you 
 believe that?" 
 
 After a long pause VB answered in a peculiarly 
 bitter voice: "I wish I knew what I believe 
 if I do believe!"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE LIE 
 
 VB S eyes burned after Gail as she drove away. 
 He followed the car in its flight until it 
 disappeared over the hump in the road ; then con 
 tinued staring in that direction with eyes that 
 did not see that merely burned like his throat. 
 
 Jed came up the gulch with a load of wood, 
 and VB still stood by the gate. 
 
 "I never can get used to these here city ways," 
 he grumbled, "no more n can these ponies." 
 
 VB noticed casually that a tug had been broken 
 and was patched with rope. 
 
 "Runaway?" he asked, scarcely conscious of 
 putting the question. 
 
 "Oh, Bob Thorpe s girl come drivin her auto 
 mobile along fit to ram straight through kingdom 
 come, an don t turn out till she gets so close I 
 thought we was done for ; to be sure, I did. Peter, 
 here, took a jump an busted a tug." He looked 
 keenly at VB. "Funny!" he remarked. "She 
 did n t see me, I know. An she looked as if 
 she d been cryin !" 
 
 He could not know the added torture those 
 words carried to the heart of the young fellow 
 battling there silently, covering up his agony, 
 trying to appear at ease. 
 
 214
 
 THE LIE 215 
 
 For the thirst had returned with manifold 
 force, augmenting those other agonies which 
 racked him. All former ordeals were forgotten 
 before the fury of this assault. By the need of 
 stimulant he was subjected to every fiendish 
 whim of singing nerves; from knowing that in 
 him was a love which must be killed to save a 
 woman from sacrifice arose a torment that reached 
 into his very vitals. 
 
 The glands of his mouth stopped functioning, 
 and it seemed as though only one thing would 
 take the cursed dryness from his tongue and lips. 
 His fingers would not be still; they kept plucking 
 and reaching out for that hidden chord which 
 would draw him back to himself, or on down into 
 the depths somehow, he did not care which. 
 Anything to be out of that killing uncertainty! 
 
 As he had gained in strength during those 
 months, so it now seemed had the thirst grown. 
 It battered down his spirit, whipped it to a pulp, 
 and dragged it through the sloughs of doubt and 
 despair. His will did he have a will ? He 
 did not know; nor did he seem to care. 
 
 It had come the slipping backward. He 
 had battled well, but now he could feel himself 
 going, little by little, weakening, fighting out 
 wardly but at heart knowing the futility of it 
 all. And going because of Gail Thorpe! "I 
 can t put this mark on her!" he moaned against 
 the Captain s neck. "She said it that even 
 those we love must bear the mark. And she
 
 216 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 said it was all good. She was wrong, wrong! 
 Such a thing can t be good! 
 
 "Suppose I did keep above it, was sure of my 
 self for a time in a sham way, would n t it only be 
 running the risk of a greater disaster? Would n t 
 it surely come some time? Would n t it, if - 
 
 "And then it would kill her, too!" 
 
 He hammered the Captain s shoulder with his 
 clenched fist and the great stallion snuggled his 
 cheek closer to the man, trying to understand, 
 trying to comfort. 
 
 Then would come moments when his will 
 rallied and Young VB fought with the ferocity 
 of a jungle cat, walking back and forth across the 
 corral, talking to the Captain, condemning his 
 weaker self, gesticulating, promising. At those 
 times he doubted whether it was so much the 
 actual thirst that tore him as it was wondering 
 if he could be worthy of her. Then the old 
 desire would come again, in an engulfing wave, 
 and his fighting would become empty words. 
 
 Jed, who had ridden up the gulch to look after 
 a gap in the fence, returned at dusk. As he 
 watched VB feed the Captain he saw in the gloom 
 the straining of the boy s face; heard him talk 
 to the stallion piteously; and the old man s lips 
 framed silent words. 
 
 "If it s that girl," he declared, shaking his 
 fist at the skies "if it s that girl, she ought 
 to be ought to be spanked. An if it s th 
 wantin of whisky, God pity th boy!"
 
 THE LIE 217 
 
 Supper was a curious affair. VB tried to help 
 in the preparation but spoiled everything he 
 touched, so far removed was his mind from the 
 work of his hands. Jed ate alone. VB sat 
 down, but could not touch the food offered. He 
 gulped coffee so steaming hot that Jed cried aloud 
 a warning. 
 
 "Burned?" scoffed VB. "Burned by that 
 stuff? Jed, you don t know what burning is!" 
 
 He got to his feet and paced the floor, one hand 
 pressed against his throat. 
 
 The boy sat down twice again and drank 
 from the cup the old man kept filled, but his lips 
 rebelled at food; his hands would not carry it 
 from the plate. 
 
 Once Jed rose and tried to restrain the pacing. 
 
 "VB, boy," he implored, "set down an take 
 it easy. Please do! It s been bad before, you 
 know, but it s always turned out good in th end. 
 It will this time same as always. Just 
 
 "Don t, Jed." He spoke weakly, averting his 
 white face and pushing the old man away gently 
 with trembling hands. "You don t understand; 
 you don t understand!" 
 
 For the first time he was beyond comfort from 
 the little old man who had showed him the lighted 
 way, who had encouraged and comforted and. 
 held faith in him. 
 
 After a while a calm fell on VB and he stopped 
 his walking, helped with the work, and then sat, 
 still and white, in his chair. Jed watched him
 
 ai8 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 narrowly and comfort came to the old soul, for 
 he believed the boy had won another fight over 
 the old foe; was so sure of it that he whistled as 
 he prepared for the night. 
 
 The candle burned on, low against the neck 
 of the bottle, but still bright and steady. VB 
 watched it, fascinated, thought tagging thought 
 through his mind. Then a tremor shot through 
 his body. 
 
 "Jed," he said in a voice that was strained but 
 even, "let s play a little pitch, won t you?" 
 
 It was his last hope, the last attempt to divert 
 the attack on his will and bolster his waning forces. 
 His nerves jumped and cringed and quivered, but 
 outwardly he was calm, his face drawn to mask 
 the torture. 
 
 Jed, aroused, rubbed his sleepy eyes and lighted 
 his pipe. He put on his steel-rimmed spectacles 
 and took down the greasy, cornerless deck of 
 cards to shuffle them slowly, with method, as 
 though it were a rite. 
 
 VB sat motionless and a little limp in his chair, 
 too far from the table for comfortable playing. 
 Jed peered at him over his glasses. 
 
 "You might get th coffee beans," he said, with 
 a great yawn. 
 
 When the other did not answer he said again: 
 "You might get th coffee beans, VB. Sleepy?" 
 
 The young chap arose then to follow the sug 
 gestion, but ignored the query. He went to the 
 cupboard and brought back a handful of the
 
 THE LIE 219 
 
 beans, the cowman s poker chips. His hand was 
 waiting for him. 
 
 "Good deal?" Jed asked. 
 
 VB shook his head. "Not better than a 
 couple." 
 
 "O-ho, I m better off!" and Jed slammed 
 down the ace of hearts. 
 
 VB leaned low and played the four-spot, almost 
 viciously, gritting his teeth to force his mind into 
 the game. It rebelled, told him the uselessness 
 of such things, the hopelessness before him, tried 
 to play on the ajidness of his throat. But for 
 the moment his will was strong and he followed 
 the game as though gambling for a life. 
 
 Suddenly the thought surged through him 
 that he was gambling for a life his own life, 
 and possibly for a woman s life! 
 
 Jed made his points, and again, on his own bid, 
 he swept up the coffee counters. Then he took 
 off his glasses and laid them aside with another 
 yawn. 
 
 VB wanted to cry aloud to him to keep on 
 playing ; he wanted to let Jed Avery know all 
 that the simple, foolish little game of cards meant 
 to him. But somehow his waning faith had 
 taken with it the power to confide. 
 
 Jed made four inexcusable blunders in playing 
 that hand, and each time his muttered apologies 
 became shorter. When the hand was over and 
 he had won a point he did not notice that the boy 
 failed to give him the counter.
 
 220 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 VB dealt, picked up his cards, and waited for 
 the bid. But Jed s chin was on his breast, one 
 hand lay loosely over the scattered cards before 
 him; the other hung at his side limply. His 
 breath came and went regularly. Sleep had 
 stolen in on VB s final stand! 
 
 Oh, if Jed Avery had only known! If his 
 kindly old heart had only read VB better, divining 
 the difference between calm and peace! For a 
 long time VB looked at the old man, his breath 
 gradually quickening, the flame in his eyes grow 
 ing sharper, more keen, as the consuming fire in 
 him ate away the last barriers of resistance. 
 Once his gaze went to the candle, burning so low 
 against the bottle, yet so brightly, its molten 
 wax running dow r n and adding to the incrustment. 
 He stared wanly at the bright little beacon and 
 shook his head, terror wiping out the vestiges 
 of a smile. 
 
 Action! That was what he wanted! Action! 
 He must move or lose his mind and babble and 
 scream ! He must move and move rapidly 
 as rapidly as the rush of those thoughts through 
 his inflamed mind. 
 
 He trembled in every limb as he sat there, 
 realizing the need for bodily activity. 
 
 And yet, guilefully, craftily, softly, that voice 
 down within him told that action could be of 
 only one sort, could take him only in one direc 
 tion. It whined and wheedled and gave him a 
 cowardly assurance, made him lie in his own
 
 THE LIE 221 
 
 thoughts; made him cautious in his sneaking 
 determination, for he knew any question Jed 
 night ask would bring frenzy. 
 
 VB rose, slowly, carefully, so that there might 
 be no creaking of the boots or scraping of chair 
 legs. He picked up his hat, his muffler, his 
 jumper, and moved stealthily toward the door, 
 opened it inch by inch, and shut it behind him 
 quickly, silently, cutting off the draft of night 
 air for such a thing might be as disastrous as 
 a cry aloud. 
 
 The moon rode above the ridge and the air 
 had lost its winter s edge. It was mild, but with 
 the tang of mountain nights. It was quiet below, 
 but as he stood in the open, pulling on his jumper, 
 he heard the stirring of wind on the points above. 
 It was a soughing, the sort of wind that makes stock 
 uneasy; and VB caught that disquieting vibration. 
 
 He stepped out from the cabin and a soft call 
 ing from the corral reached him. 
 
 "Coming, Captain, coming," he answered. 
 
 And with a guilty glance behind him he felt 
 for the gun nestling against his side. His jaw- 
 muscles tightened as he assured himself it was 
 fastened there securely. 
 
 The Captain was waiting at the gate. VB let 
 it swing open, then turned and walked toward the 
 saddle rack. The horse followed closely, ears up 
 as though in wonder at this procedure. 
 
 "It s all right, Captain," VB whispered as he 
 threw on the saddle blanket. As he drew the
 
 222 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 cinch tight he muttered: "Or else all wrong ! " 
 
 Action, action! his body begged. He must 
 have it; nothing else would suffice! He wanted 
 to fly along, skimming the tops of those ghost 
 bushes, ripping through the night, feeling the 
 ripple of wind on that throat, the cooling currents 
 of air against those hammering temples. 
 
 And VB knew it was a lie ! A rank, deliberate, 
 hypocritical lie! He knew what that action 
 meant, he knew in what direction it would take 
 him. He knew; he knew! 
 
 "Oh, Captain!" he sobbed, drawing the bridled 
 head against his chest. "You know what it is 
 to fight! You know what it is to yield! But 
 the yielding did n t break you, boy! It could n t. 
 You were too big, too great to be broken; they 
 could only bend and 
 
 With a breath of nervous rage he was in the 
 saddle. The Captain s feet rattled on the hard 
 ground with impatience. An instant VB hesi 
 tated, gathering the reins, separating them from 
 the strands of thick mane. Then, leaning low, 
 uttering a throaty wail, he gave the Captain his 
 head and into the veiled night they bolted. 
 
 The cattle were coming on him, and he was 
 powerless to move! They were bunched, run 
 ning shoulder to shoulder, and his bed was in 
 their path ! Jed tried to raise his arms and could 
 barely move them; his legs rebelled. The stam 
 pede was roaring at him! Oh, the rumble of
 
 THE LIE 223 
 
 those hoofs, those sharp, cloven, blind, merciless 
 hoofs, that would mangle and tear and trample! 
 
 Jed Avery awoke with a start. He was on his 
 feet in the middle of the floor before conscious 
 ness came, gasping quickly at the horror of his 
 dream, his excited heart racing! 
 
 But it was no stampede. Running hoofs, but 
 no stampede! He stumbled to the door and 
 flung it open. His old eyes caught the flash of 
 a lean, dark object as it raced across the door- 
 yard straight at the gate, never pausing, never 
 hesitating, and taking the bars with a sturdy 
 leap that identified the horse instantly. 
 
 "VB!" 
 
 He called the name shrilly into the night, but 
 his cry was drowned to the rider s ears, for the 
 Captain s hoofs had caught ground again and 
 were spurning it viciously as he clawed for the 
 speed, the action, that was to satisfy the outraged 
 nerves of his master! 
 
 That lie! It was not the action that would 
 satisfy. The flight was only an accessory, an 
 agency that would transport VB to the scene 
 of the renunciation of all that for which he had 
 battled through those long months. 
 
 For a long moment Jed stood in the doorway 
 as he had poised at first, stiff, rigid. The sounds 
 of the rushing horse diminuendoed quickly and 
 became only a murmur in the night. Jed Avery s 
 figure lost its tensity, went slack, and he leaned 
 limply against the door frame.
 
 224 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 "He s gone!" he moaned. "He s gone! It s 
 broke in on him Oh, VB, I m afraid it has! 
 No good takes you south at this time, after 
 th spell you ve had!" 
 
 He slammed the door shut and turned back 
 into the room. Unsteady feet took him to his 
 chair, and he settled into it heavily, leaning against 
 the table, his eyes registering the sight of no 
 objects. 
 
 "He was fightin harder n ever," he whispered 
 dryly, "an" I set here sleepin . To be sure, I 
 wasn t on hand when VB needed me most!" 
 
 The ending of his self-accusation was almost 
 a sob, and his head dropped forward. He sat 
 like that for an hour. The fire in the stove went 
 out, and the cool of night penetrated the log walls 
 of the cabin. He gazed unblinkingly at the 
 floor; now and then his lips formed soundlesf 
 words. 
 
 The candle, burning low, fed the flame too 
 fiercely with the last bit of itself. The neck of 
 the bottle was a globule of molten wax in which 
 the short wick swam. The flame had become 
 larger, but it was dead and the smoke rose thickly 
 from its heavy edges. The grease seemed to be 
 disturbed. It quivered, steadied, then settled. 
 The flame slipped down the neck of the bottle and 
 was snuffed out by the confines of the thing. 
 
 Jed A very drew a long, quivering breath, d 
 breath of horror. He turned his face toward 
 the place where the light had been, hoping that
 
 THE LIE 225 
 
 his sight had failed. Then he reached out and 
 found the bottle. His hard fingers ran over it, 
 felt the empty neck, paused, and drew away as 
 though it were an infectious thing. 
 
 The old man sagged forward to the table, his 
 face in his arms. 
 
 15
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THROUGH THE NIGHT 
 
 ON into the night went the Captain, bearing 
 VB. Over the gate the bridle-rein drew 
 against his neck and the big beast swung to 
 the right, following the road southward, on down 
 the gulch, on toward Ranger a fierceness in his 
 rider s heart that was suicidal. 
 
 All the bitterness VB had endured, from the 
 stinging torrent his father turned upon him back 
 in New York to the flat realization that to let 
 himself love Gail Thorpe might bring him into 
 worse hells, surged up into his throat and mingled 
 with the craving there. It seeped through into 
 his mind, perverted his thoughts, stamped down 
 the optimism that had held him up, shattered 
 what remnants of faith still remained. 
 
 "Faster, Captain!" he cried. "Faster!" 
 
 And the stallion responded, scudding through 
 the blue moonlight with a speed that seemed 
 beyond the power of flesh to attain. He shook 
 his fine head and stretched out the long nose as 
 though the very act of thrusting it farther would 
 give more impetus to his thundering hoofs. 
 
 VB sat erect in the saddle, a fierce delight 
 aroused by the speed running through his veins 
 like fire and, reaching to his throat, adding to 
 
 226
 
 THROUGH THE NIGHT 227 
 
 the scorching. He swung his right hand rhyth 
 mically, keeping time to the steady roll of the 
 stallion s feet. The wind tore at him, vibrating 
 his hat brim, whipping the long muffler out from 
 his neck, and he shook his head against it. 
 
 He was free at last! Free after those months 
 of doubt, of foolish fighting! He was answering 
 the call that came from the depths of his true 
 self that hidden self the call of flesh that 
 needs aid! He cared not for the morrow, for 
 the stretching future. His one thought was on 
 the now on the rankling, eating, festering 
 moment that needed only one thing to be wiped 
 out forever. 
 
 And always, in the back of his mind, was the 
 picture of Gail Thorpe as she had turned from 
 him that afternoon. It loomed large and larger 
 as he tore on to the south through the solitude, 
 ripping his way through the cool murk. 
 
 "I won t put my mark on her!" he cried, and 
 whipped the Captain s flanks with his heavy 
 hat, the thought setting his heart flaming. "I 
 won t!" he cried. And again, "I won t!" 
 
 He was riding down into his particular depths 
 so to stultify himself that it would be impossible 
 to risk that woman s happiness against the chance 
 that some time, some day, he would go down, 
 loving her, making her know he loved her, but 
 fighting without gain. That, surely, is one sort 
 of love, faulty though the engendering spirit 
 may be.
 
 228 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 The whipping with the hat sent the horse on 
 to still greater endeavor. A slight weariness 
 commenced to show in the ducking of his head 
 with every stride, but he did not slacken his pace. 
 His ears were still set stiffly forward, flipping 
 back, one after the other, for word from his rider; 
 the spurn of his feet was still sharp and clear 
 and unfaltering; the spirit in that rippling, drip 
 ping body still ran high. 
 
 And closing his eyes, drinking the night air 
 through his mouth in great gulps, VB let the 
 animal carry him on and on, yet backward, 
 back into the face of all that fighting he had 
 summoned, doubling on his own tracks, slipping 
 so easily down the way he had blazed upward 
 with awful sacrifice and hardship. 
 
 An hour two nine eleven the Cap 
 tain might have been running so a week, and VB 
 would not have known. His mind was not on 
 time, not on his horse. He had ceased to think 
 beyond the recognition of a craving, a craving 
 that he did not fight but encouraged, nursed, 
 teased for it was going to be satisfied ! 
 
 The stallion s pace began to slacken. He 
 wearied. The bellows lungs, the heart of steel, 
 the legs of tireless sinew began to feel the strain 
 of that long run. The run waned to a gallop, 
 and the gallop to a trot. There his breathing 
 becoming easier, he blew loudly from his nostrils 
 as though to distend them farther and make 
 way for the air he must have.
 
 THROUGH THE NIGHT 229 
 
 VB realized this dully but his heeding of that 
 devilish inner call had taken him so far from 
 his more tender self, from his instinctive desire 
 to love and understand, that he did not follow 
 out his comprehension. 
 
 "Go it, boy!" he muttered. "It s all I ll ask 
 of you just this one run." 
 
 And the Captain, dropping an ear back for 
 the word, leaned to the task, resuming the 
 steady, space-eating gallop mile after mile. All 
 the way into Ranger they held that pace. In the 
 last mile the stallion stumbled twice, but after 
 both breaks in his stride ran on more swiftly 
 for many yards, as though to make up to his 
 master for the jolting the half falls gave him. 
 He was a bit unsteady on those feet as he took 
 the turn and dropped down the low bank into the 
 river. They forded it in a shimmer of silver as 
 the horse s legs threw out the black water to be 
 frozen and burnished by the light of the moon. 
 The stallion toiled up the far bank at a lagging 
 trot, and on the flat VB pulled the panting animal 
 down to a walk. 
 
 Oh, VB, it was not too late then, had you only 
 realized it! Your ideal was still there, more 
 exemplary than ever before, but you could not 
 recognize it through those eyes which saw only 
 the red of a wrecking passion! You had drained 
 to the last ounce of reserve the strength of that 
 spirit you had so emulated, which had been as 
 a shining light, an unfaltering candle in the
 
 23 o "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 darkness. It was stripped bare before you as 
 that splendid animal gulped between breaths. 
 Could you have but seen! Could something 
 only have made you see! But it was not to be. 
 
 VB had forgotten the Captain. In the face 
 of his wretched weakening the stallion became 
 merely a conveyance, a convenience, a means for 
 stifling the neurotic excitement within him. He 
 forgot that this thing he rode represented his 
 only achievement an achievement such as few 
 men ever boast. 
 
 He guided the stallion to a half-wrecked log 
 house south of the road, dismounted, and stood 
 a moment before the shack, his glittering eyes on 
 the squares of light yonder under the rising hill. 
 He heard a faint tinkling from the place, and a 
 voice raised in laughter. 
 
 As he watched, a mounted man passed between 
 him and the yellow glare. In a moment he saw 
 the man enter the saloon door. 
 
 "Come, boy," he muttered, moving cautiously 
 through the opening into the place. "You ll 
 be warm in here. You ll cool off slowly." 
 
 Then, in a burst of hysterical passion, he threw 
 his arms about the stallion s head and drew it 
 to him fiercely. 
 
 "Oh, I won t be gone long, Captain!" he 
 promised. "Not long just a little while. It s 
 not the worst, Captain! I m not weakening!" 
 
 Drunk with the indulgence of his nervous 
 weakness, he lied glibly, knowing he lied, without
 
 THROUGH THE NIGHT 231 
 
 object just to lie, to pervert life. And as the 
 Captain s quick, hot breath penetrated his gar 
 ments, VB drew the head still tighter. 
 
 "You re all I ve got, Captain," he muttered, 
 now in a trembling calm. "You 11 wait. I know 
 that. I know what you will do better than I 
 know anything else in the world better than 
 I know what what / // do! Wait for me, boy 
 wait right here!" 
 
 His voice broke on the last word as he stumbled 
 through the door and set off toward the building 
 against the hill. He did not hear the Captain 
 turn, walk as far as the door of the shack, and 
 peer after him anxiously. Nor did he see the 
 figure of a man halted in the road, watching him 
 go across the flat, chaps flapping, brushing through 
 the sage noisily. 
 
 VB halted in the path of light, swaying the 
 merest trifle from side to side as he pulled his 
 chap belt in another hole and tried to still 
 the twitching of his hands, the weakening of his 
 knees. 
 
 The tinkling he had heard became clear. He 
 could see now. A Mexican squatted on his 
 spurs, back against the wall, and twanged a 
 fandango on a battered guitar. His hat was far 
 back over his head, cigarette glowing in the corner 
 of his mouth, gay blue muffler loose on his shoul 
 ders. He hummed to the music, his voice rising 
 now and then to float out into the night above 
 the other sounds from the one room.
 
 232 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 The bar of rough boards, top covered with 
 red oilcloth, stretched along one side. Black 
 bottles flashed their high lights from a shelf 
 behind it, above which hung an array of antlers. 
 The bartender, broad Stetson shading his face, 
 talked loudly, his hands wide apart on the bar and 
 bearing much of his weight. Now and then he 
 dropped his head to spit between his forearms. 
 
 Three men in chaps lounged before the bar, 
 talking. One, the tallest, talked with his head 
 flung back and gestures that were a trifle too loose. 
 The shortest looked into his face with a ceaseless, 
 senseless smile, and giggled whenever the voice 
 rose high or the gestures became unusually wild. 
 The third, elbows on the oilcloth, head on his 
 fists, neither joined in nor appeared to heed the 
 conversation. 
 
 Back in the room stood two tables, both 
 covered with green cloth. One was unused; the 
 other accommodated four men. Each of the 
 quartet wore a hat drawn low over his face; each 
 held cards. They seldom spoke; when they did, 
 their voices were low. VB saw only their lips 
 move. Their motions were like the words few 
 and abrupt. When chips were counted it was 
 with expertness; when they were shoved to the 
 center of the table it was with finality. 
 
 Near them, tilted against the wall in a wire- 
 trussed chair, sat a sleeping man, hat on the floor. 
 
 Two swinging oil lamps lighted the smoke- 
 fogged air of the place, and their glow seemed
 
 THROUGH THE NIGHT 233 
 
 to be diffused by it, idealizing everything, 
 softening it 
 
 Everything except the high lights from the 
 bottles on the shelf. Those were stabs of searing 
 brightness; they hurt VB s eyeballs. 
 
 His gaze traveled back to the Mexican. The 
 melody had drifted from the fandango into a 
 swinging waltz song popular in the cities four 
 years before. He whistled the air through his 
 teeth. The cigarette was still between his lips. 
 The face brought vague recollections to VB. 
 Then he remembered that this was Julio, the 
 Mexican who ran with Rhues. He belonged to 
 Rhues, they had told him, body and soul. 
 
 Thought of Rhues sent VB s right hand to 
 his left side, up under the arm. He squeezed 
 the gun that nestled there. 
 
 Of a sudden, nausea came to the man who 
 looked in. It was not caused by fear of Rhues 
 of the possibility of an encounter. The poignant 
 fumes that came from the open door stirred it, 
 and the sickness was that of a man who sees his 
 great prize melt away. 
 
 For the moment VB wanted to rebel. He 
 tore his eyes from those glittering bottles; tried 
 to stop his breathing that treacherous nostrils 
 might not inhale those odors. 
 
 But it was useless his feet would not carry 
 him away. He knew he must move, move soon, 
 and though he now cried out in his heart against 
 it he knew which way his feet would carry him.
 
 2 34 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 He half turned his body and looked back 
 toward the shack where the Captain waited, and 
 a tightening came in his throat to mingle with 
 the rapaciousness there. 
 
 "Just a little while, Captain," he whispered, 
 feeling childishly that the horse would hear the 
 words and understand. "Just a little while - 
 I m just just going to take a little hand in the 
 card game." 
 
 And as the Mexican finished his waltz with a 
 rip of the thumb clear across the six strings of 
 his instrument, Young VB put a foot on the 
 threshold of the saloon and slowly drew himself 
 to his full height in the doorway. Framed by 
 darkness he stood there, thumbs in his belt, 
 mouth in a grim line, hat down to hide the pallor 
 of his cheeks, the torment in his eyes; his shoulders 
 were braced back in resolution, but his knees, 
 inside his generous chaps, trembled.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE LAST STAND 
 
 T^VEN the vibrating guitar strings seemed to be 
 -* stilled suddenly. For VB, an abrupt hush 
 crushed down on the scene. He felt the eyes as, 
 pair after pair, they followed those of the Mexican 
 and gazed at him; even the man slumbering in 
 his chair awoke, raised his head, and stared at 
 him sleepily. He stood in the doorway, leaning 
 lightly against the logs, returning each gaze in 
 turn. 
 
 "Hello, VB!" one of the trio before the bar 
 said. 
 
 "Hello, Tom!" answered the newcomer - 
 and stepped into the room. 
 
 Then what hush had fallen real or imagi 
 nary lifted and the talk went on, the game 
 progressed. 
 
 Perhaps the talk was not fully sincere, possibly 
 the thoughts of the speakers were not always on 
 their words, for every man in the place stole 
 glances at the tall young fellow as he moved 
 slowly about the room. 
 
 They had known for months the fight that was 
 going on up there on Jed Avery s ranch. They 
 knew that the man who had mastered the Captain 
 and set his name forever in the green annals of 
 
 235
 
 236 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 the country had been fighting to command him 
 self against the attacks of the stuff they peddled 
 here in the saloon at Ranger. They knew how 
 he had fought off temptation, avoided contact 
 with whisky and now, late at night, he had 
 walked slowly into the heart of the magnet that 
 had exerted such an influence on him. So they 
 watched VB as he moved about. 
 
 The sharp lights from those black bottles! 
 Like snakes eyes, they commanded his and, 
 when this power had been exerted, they seemed 
 to stab the brain that directed sight at them. In 
 the first few steps across the rough floor VB 
 answered their call to look a half dozen times, 
 and after each turning of his gaze jerked his eyes 
 away in pain. 
 
 He did not turn toward the bar rather, kept 
 close to the wall, passing so near the squatting 
 Mexican that the flap of his chaps brushed the 
 other s knees. The Greaser picked at the strings 
 of his instrument aimlessly, striking unrelated 
 chords, tinkling on a single string; then came a 
 few bars from the fandango. His head was 
 tilted to one side and a glittering eye followed the 
 slow-moving figure of Young VB. 
 
 By the time the newcomer was halfway toward 
 the poker table the Mexican got to his feet, slid 
 ing his back slowly up the wall until he reached a 
 standing position. Then, for the first time taking 
 his eyes from VB, he stepped lightly toward the 
 door. After a final tinkling chord had fallen he
 
 THE LAST STAND 237 
 
 disappeared, guitar slung under one arm, walking 
 slowly away from the lighted place. But when 
 he was beyond sight of those within, he ran. 
 
 VB went on, past the just-awakened man in 
 his chair, close to the poker table. The players 
 looked up again, first one, with a word of recog 
 nition; then two spoke at once, and after he had 
 raked in the pot the fourth nodded with a wel 
 coming grunt. 
 
 The young fellow leaned a shoulder against the 
 log wall and watched the game. That is, he 
 looked at it. But continually his fevered memory 
 retained a vision of those glares from the bottles. 
 
 His mind again played crazy tricks, as it 
 always did when the thirst clamored loudly. 
 The rattle of the chips sounded like ice in glasses, 
 and he turned his head quickly toward the bar, 
 following the imaginary sound. 
 
 The four men there were just drinking. He 
 followed their movements with wild eyes. The 
 bartender lifted his glass to the level of his fore 
 head in salute, then drained its contents slowly, 
 steadily, every movement from the lifting to 
 the setting down of the empty glass smooth, 
 deliberate even polished the movements of 
 a professedly artful drinker. The silent man 
 offered no good word merely lifted the glass 
 and drank, tipping his head but slightly, empty 
 ing the glass with an uneven twisting of the 
 wrist, something like an exaggerated tremble. 
 The short man tossed his drink off by elevating
 
 238 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 the glass quickly to his lips and throwing his 
 head back with a jerk to empty it into his mouth. 
 The tall man, who talked loudly and motioned 
 much, waved his drink through the air to empha 
 size a declaration, and with an uncertain swoop 
 directed it to his lips. He leaned backward 
 from the hips to drink, and the movement made 
 him reel and grasp the bar for support. 
 
 As he had followed the movements of those 
 men, so VB followed the course of the stuff they 
 drank down their throats; in imagination, down 
 his throat, until it hit upon and glossed over that 
 spot which wailed for soothing! 
 
 Oh, how he wanted it! Still, all those months 
 of battling had not been without result. The 
 rigid fight he had made carried him on, even in 
 face of his resolve to yield, and he delayed, put 
 it off just a moment lying to himself ! 
 
 He turned back to the game. 
 
 "Sit in, VB?" one of the players asked. 
 
 "Don t mind." 
 
 He dragged another chair to the table, unbut 
 toned and cast off his jumper, gave the hat 
 another low tug, and tossed a yellow-backed 
 twenty to the table. The chips were shoved 
 toward him. 
 
 "Jacks or better," the dealer said, and shot the 
 cards about the board. 
 
 VB won a pot. He bet eagerly on the next and 
 lost. Then he won again. The game interested 
 him for the moment.
 
 THE LAST STAND 239 
 
 "Oh, just one more HT drink!" cried the 
 garrulous cowboy at the bar. 
 
 VB had passed the opening, went in later, drew 
 .three cards, failed to help his tens, and hiked the 
 bet Called, he dropped the hand; and the 
 winner, showing aces up, stared at the boy who 
 had bet against openers on lone tens. He noticed 
 that VB s hands trembled, and he wondered. He 
 could not feel VB s throat. Nor could he hear 
 the careless plea of the sotted rider for just one 
 more drink ringing in VB s burning brain. 
 
 A big pot was played and the winner, made 
 happy, said: 
 
 "Well, I ll buy a drink." 
 
 The bartender, hearing, came to the table. 
 
 "What 11 it be?" he asked. 
 
 "Whisky," said the man on VB s right, and 
 the word went around the circle. 
 
 Then a moment s pause, while the cards 
 fluttered out. 
 
 "VB?" 
 
 There it was, reaching out for him, holding out 
 its tentacles that ceased to appear as such and 
 became soft, inviting arms. It was that for 
 which he had ridden through the night; it was 
 that against which he had fought month after 
 month until, this night, he realized that a fight 
 was useless; it was the one solace left him, for 
 indirectly it had brought into his life the glorious 
 thing and wiped it out again. So why hold 
 off? Why refuse?
 
 240 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 But those months of fighting! He could not 
 overcome that impetus which his subjective self 
 had received from the struggle. Consciously he 
 wanted the stuff oh, how he wanted it ! But 
 deep in him something 
 
 "Not now thanks," he managed to mutter, 
 and clasped his cards tightly. 
 
 The bartender turned away, rubbing his chin 
 with one finger, as though perplexed. VB dealt, 
 and with lightning agility. He even broke in 
 on the silence of the playing with senseless chatter 
 when the drinks were brought. He held his 
 cards high that he might not see the glasses, and 
 was glad that the men did not drink at once. 
 Nor did they drink for many moments. The 
 opener was raised twice; few cards were drawn. 
 A check passed one man, the next bet, the next 
 raised, and VB, the deal, came in. 
 
 The opener raised again and the bartender, 
 seeing, stepped across to watch. The drowsy 
 lounger, sensing the drift of the game, rose to 
 look on. 
 
 VB dropped out. He held threes, but felt 
 that they had no place in that game. The 
 betting went on and on, up and up, three men 
 bent on raising, the fourth following, intent on 
 having a look, anyhow. VB threw his cards 
 down and dropped his hands loosely on the table. 
 The back of his right hand touched a cold object. 
 He looked down quickly. It was resting against 
 a whisky glass.
 
 THE LAST STAND 241 
 
 "And ten more," a player said. 
 
 "Ten and another ten." More chips rattled 
 into the pile. 
 
 His hand stole back and hot fingers reached 
 out to touch with sensitive tips that cool surface. 
 His nostrils worked to catch the scent of the 
 stuff. His hand was around the glass. 
 
 "I m staying." 
 
 "You are for five more." 
 
 VB s fingers tightened about the thing, squeezed 
 it in the palm of his hand. It had felt cool at 
 first; now it was like fire. The muscles of that 
 arm strove to lift it. His inner mind struggled, 
 declared against the intention, weakened, yielded, 
 and 
 
 "Well, I m through. Fight it out." 
 
 The man at VB s right dropped his cards in 
 disgust and with a quick movement reached for 
 his drink. 
 
 His nervous, hot hand closed on VB s and 
 their surprised glances met. 
 
 "Excuse me," muttered VB. 
 
 "Sure!" said the other, surly over his lost 
 stake, and gulped down the whisky. 
 
 Two of the players went broke in that pot. 
 The fourth had a scant remnant of his original 
 stack left, and VB was loser. The two who had 
 failed shoved back their hats and yawned, almost 
 simultaneously. 
 
 "How about it?" asked the winner, stacking 
 his chips. 
 16
 
 242 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 "I m satisfied," said the man at VB s right. 
 
 "And VB?" 
 
 "Here, too!" 
 
 The boy sat back in his chair with a long- 
 drawn breath after shoving his chips across to 
 be cashed. He pushed his hat back for the first 
 time, and a man across the table stared hard as 
 he saw the harried face. The others were busy, 
 cashing in. 
 
 "Just get in, VB?" some one asked. 
 
 He heard the question through a tumult. 
 His muscles had already contracted in the first 
 movement of rising; his will already directed his 
 feet across the room to the bar to answer the call 
 of those searching bottle eyes. Inwardly he 
 raged at himself for holding off so long, for wasting 
 those months, for letting that other new thing 
 come into his life only to be torn away again; 
 when it all meant mere delay, a drawing out of 
 suffering! Only half consciously he framed the 
 answer : 
 
 "Yes, I rode down to-night." 
 
 "Coin on out?" 
 
 "What?" he asked, forcing his mind to give 
 heed to the other. 
 
 "Goin on out, or goin to hang around a while? " 
 
 "I don t know." The boy got to his feet, and 
 the reply was given with rare bitterness. "I 
 don t know," he said again, voice mounting. "I 
 may go out and I may not. I may hang 
 around a while, and it may n t take long. I m
 
 THE LAST STAND 243 
 
 here to finish something I started a long time 
 ago, something that I ve been putting off. I m 
 going to put a stop to a lying, hypocritical exist 
 ence. I m " 
 
 He broke off thickly and moved away from the 
 table. 
 
 No imagination created a hush this time. On 
 his words the counting of chips ceased. They 
 looked at him, seeing utter desperation, and not 
 understanding. 
 
 A face outside that had been pressed close 
 to a window was lowered, darkness hiding the 
 glitter of green eyes and the leering smile of tri 
 umph. A figure slunk along carefully to the 
 corner of the building and joined two others. 
 
 It was his chance! Rhues was out to get his 
 man this moonlight night, and there was now 
 no danger. Young VB w r as no longer afraid to 
 take a drink. He would give up his fight, give 
 up his hard -wrung freedom, and when drunken 
 men go down, shot in a quarrel, there is always 
 cause. He had him now! 
 
 VB lurched across the room toward the bar. 
 In mid-floor he paused, turned, and faced those 
 at the poker table. 
 
 "Don t mistake me," he said with a grin. 
 "Don t think I m talking against any man in the 
 country. It s myself, boys just me. I m the 
 liar, the hypocrite. I ve tried to lie myself into 
 being what I never can be. I ve come out here 
 among you to go by the name of the outfit I ride
 
 244 -I CONQUERED" 
 
 for. You don t know me, don t even know my 
 name, say nothing of my own rotten self. Well, 
 you re going to know me as I am." 
 
 He swung around to face the bar. The bar 
 tender pulled nervously on his mustache. 
 
 "What 11 it be, VB?" he asked, surprised 
 knowledge sending the professional question to 
 his lips. 
 
 "The first thing you come to," the boy mut 
 tered, and grasped the bar for support.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 GUNS CRASH 
 
 in the shadow of the building three men 
 huddled close together, talking in whispers 
 Rhues, Matson, and the Mexican. Rhues 
 had watched the progress of the poker game, 
 waiting the chance he had tried to seek out ever 
 since that day up at Avery s when he had been 
 beaten down by the flailing fists of that tall 
 young tenderfoot. He had seen VB start for the 
 bar; he knew the hour had struck. 
 
 "We ve got him!" he whispered. "He won t 
 get away this time. They won t be no mistakes." 
 
 "S-s-s-s!" the Greaser warned. 
 
 "Aw, nobody 11 ever know," Rhues scoffed 
 in an undertone. "They ll never know that 
 unless you spill. An if you do it ll mean 
 three of us to th gallows, unless we re lynched 
 first!" 
 
 Silence a moment, and they heard VB s voice 
 raised. Then Rhues whispered his quick plans. 
 
 "Take it easy," he warned in conclusion. 
 "Don t start nothin . Let him git drunk; then 
 he ll do th startin an it ll be easy." 
 
 Inside a bottle was thumped on the bar, a 
 glass beside it. Feverishly VB reached for both, 
 lifting the glass with uncertain hand, tilting the 
 
 245
 
 246 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 bottle from the bar, not trusting his quaking 
 muscles to raise it. The neck touched the glass 
 with a dull clink; the mouth of the bottle gurgled 
 greedily as the first of the liquor ran out for 
 all the world as if it had waited these months 
 for that chuckle of triumph. 
 
 And then that romanticism of youth came to 
 the surface of his seething thoughts again. It 
 would be the closing of a chapter, that drink. 
 It was for her sake he would lift it to his lips. 
 He wanted to bid her a last, bitter farewell. 
 She was over there, far across the hills, sleeping 
 and dreaming with her golden hair over 
 there in the northeast. He laughed harshly, set 
 the bottle back on the bar, and turned his face 
 in her direction. 
 
 Those who watched from the other end of the 
 room saw him turn his head unsteadily; saw the 
 sudden tenseness which spread through his frame, 
 stiffening those faltering knees. He turned slowly 
 toward the door and thrust his face forward as 
 though to study and make certain that he saw 
 rightly. 
 
 Like a rush of fire the realization swept through 
 him. A man stood there in the moonlight, and 
 the sheen from the heavens was caught on the 
 dull barrel of a gun in his hand. 
 
 VB was covered, and he knew by whom! The 
 man who had fought less than half a dozen times 
 in his life, and then with bare fists, was the object 
 of a trained gun hand. He could almost see the
 
 GUNS CRASH 247 
 
 glitter of the green eyes that were staring at him. 
 
 Instinct should have told him to spring to one 
 side; a leap right or left would have carried him 
 out of range, but instinct had been warped by all 
 those months of struggle. 
 
 He was on the brink, at the point of losing his 
 balance; but the battling spirit within him still 
 throbbed, though his frenzy, his lack of faith, 
 had nearly killed it. Now the thing came alive 
 pulsing, bare ! 
 
 An instant before he had not cared what 
 happened. Now he did, and the end was not 
 the only thing in view; the means counted with 
 Young VB. 
 
 He did not jump for shelter. He roared his 
 rage as he prepared to stand and fight. 
 
 The others understood before his hand reached 
 his shirt front. The bartender dropped behind 
 the fixture and the others in the room sprang 
 behind the barrels and stove. By the time VB s 
 hand had clasped the neck of his shirt he stood 
 alone. When the vicious yank he gave the gar 
 ment ripped it open from throat halfway to waist 
 the first belch of fire came from that gun out there. 
 
 The bottle on the bar exploded, fine bits of 
 glass shooting to the far corners of the room. 
 
 Come on you yellow 
 
 VB s fingers found the butt of his Colt, closed 
 and yanked. It came from the holster, poised, 
 muzzle upward, his thumb over the hammer. 
 Possibly he stood thus a tenth part of a second,
 
 24 8 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 but while he waited for his eyes to focus well a 
 generation seemed to parade past. He was 
 hunted down by a crawling piece of vermin! 
 
 A parallel sprang to his mind. While Rhues 
 sought his body did not another viper seek his 
 soul ? Was 
 
 Then he made out the figure crouched low. 
 The forty-five came down, and the room re 
 sounded with its roar. He stood there, a green 
 horn who had never handled a weapon in his 
 life until the last year, giving battle to a gun 
 fighter whose name was a synonym! 
 
 Out of the moonlight came another flash, and 
 before VB could answer the hunched figure had 
 leaped from the area framed by the doorway. 
 
 "You won t stand!" the boy cried, and strode 
 across the room. 
 
 "Don t be a fool! VB!" 
 
 The bartender s warning might as well have 
 been unheard. Straight for the open door went 
 the boy, gun raised, coughing from the powder 
 smoke. But the mustached man, though pan- 
 derer by profession, revolted at unfairness; per 
 haps it was through the boy s ignorance, but he 
 knew VB walked only to become a target. 
 Twice his gun roared from behind the bar and the 
 two swinging lamps became scattered, tinkling 
 fragments. 
 
 VB seemed not to heed, not to notice that he 
 was in darkness. He reached the door, put his 
 left hand against the casing, and looked out.
 
 GUNS CRASH 249 
 
 With lights behind he would have been riddled 
 on the instant. But, looking from blackness to 
 moonlight, he was invisible for the moment - 
 but only for a moment. 
 
 The stream of yellow stabbed at him again 
 and Young VB, as though under the blow of a 
 sledge, spun round and was flattened against the 
 wall. 
 
 His left breast seemed to be in flames. He 
 reached for it, fired aimlessly with the other 
 hand in the direction of his hidden foe, and let 
 the gun clatter to the floor. 
 
 He wondered if it were death that darkness. 
 He felt the fanning of the wind, heard, dimly, 
 its uneasy soughing. It was very dark. 
 
 A movement and its consequent grip of pain 
 brought him back. He saw then that a heavy 
 cloud, wind driven, had blotted out the moon. 
 In a frenzy he came alert! He was wounded I 
 He had dropped his gun and they were waiting for 
 him out there, somewhere; waiting to finish him! 
 
 He could feel the smearing of blood across his 
 chest as his clothing held it in. His legs com 
 menced to tremble, from true physical weakness 
 this time. 
 
 And the Captain was waiting! 
 
 That thought wiped out every other; he was 
 possessed with it. He might be dying, but if 
 he could only get to the Captain; if he could only 
 feel that silken nose against his cheek! Nothing 
 would matter then.
 
 2 5 o "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 If he could get up, if he could mount, the 
 Captain would take care of him. He could out 
 run those bullets the Captain. He would take 
 him home, away from this inferno. 
 
 "I m coming, Captain!" he muttered brokenly. 
 "You re waiting! Oh, I know where to find you. 
 I m coming, boy, coming!" 
 
 He stepped down from the doorway and reeled, 
 a hand against his wounded breast. It seemed 
 as though it required an eternity to regain his 
 balance. Then he lurched forward a step. Oh, 
 they were merciless! They opened on him from 
 behind when he had no weapon, when his life 
 was gushing away under his shirt! Those shots 
 never came from one gun alone. More than one 
 man fired on him! 
 
 His salvation then was flight. He ran, stag 
 gering, stumbling. He plunged forward on his 
 face and heard a bullet scream over him. 
 
 Oh, Captain ! " he moaned. Can t you come 
 and get me? Can t you?" 
 
 He snarled his determination to rally those 
 senses that tried to roam off into vagaries. He 
 got to his hands and knees and crawled, inch by 
 inch. He heard another shot, but it went wild. 
 He got to his feet and reeled on. They thought 
 they d done for him when he fell! He heard 
 himself laughing crazily at the joke. 
 
 Oh, you 11 laugh, too Captain ! " he growled. 
 "It s a joke you ll if I can only get to 
 you!"
 
 GUNS CRASH 251 
 
 His numb, lagging legs seemed to make con 
 scious efforts to hold him back. His head be 
 came as heavy as his feet and rolled about on 
 his neck, now straight forward, now swinging 
 from side to side. His arms flopped as no arm 
 ever should flop. And he heard the blood bub 
 bling under his vest. Perhaps he would never 
 get there! Perhap she was done for! 
 
 "Oh, no I can t quit before I get to 
 you, Captain!" he muttered as he fell again. 
 You re waiting where I told you to wait ! 
 I ve got to get there ! " 
 
 Of only one thing in this borderland between 
 consciousness and insensibility was he certain 
 the Captain was waiting. The Captain was 
 w r aiting! If he could get that far It was 
 the climax of all things. To reach his horse; 
 to touch him; to put his arms about those ankles 
 as he fell and hold them close; to answer trust 
 with trust. For through all this the Captain 
 had waited! 
 
 The shack where he had left the horse swam 
 before his eyes. He heard the breath making 
 sounds in his throat as he crawled on toward it, 
 counting each hand-breadth traveled an achieve 
 ment. He tried to call out to the horse, but the 
 words clogged and he could not make his voice 
 carry. 
 
 "Just a moment, boy!" he whispered. "Only 
 - a moment longer then you won t have - 
 to wait!"
 
 2 5 2 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 He was conscious again that his pursuers fired 
 from behind. It was moonlight once more, and 
 they could see him as he reeled on toward the 
 shack. He sprawled again as his foot met a stone, 
 and the guns ceased to crash. 
 
 But VB did not think on this more than that 
 instant. He found no comfort in the cessation 
 of firing. For him, only one attainable object 
 remained in life. He wanted to be with the 
 thing of which he was certain, away from all else 
 
 to know a faith was justified ; to sense once 
 again stability! 
 
 His hand struck rough wood. He strained 
 his eyes to make out the tumble-down structure 
 rising above him. 
 
 "Captain!" he called, forcing his voice up from 
 a whisper. "Come boy, I m ready to go 
 
 home!" 
 
 Clinging to the logs, he raised himself to his 
 feet and swayed in through the door. 
 
 "Captain," he muttered, closing his eyes almost 
 contentedly and waiting. "Captain?" 
 
 He started forward in alarm, a concern mount 
 ing through his torture and dimming his sensi 
 bilities. 
 
 Captain are you here ? 
 
 He stumbled forward, arms outstretched in the 
 darkness, feeling about the space. He ran into 
 a wall; turned, met another. 
 
 "Captain!" he cried, his voice mounting to a 
 ranting cry.
 
 GUNS CRASH 253 
 
 The Captain was gone ! 
 
 Reason for keeping on slipped from VB s mind. 
 He needed air, so his reflexes carried him through 
 the doorway again, out of the place where he had 
 left the stallion, out of the place where his trust 
 had been betrayed. He stumbled, recovered his 
 balance, plunged on out into the moonlight, into 
 the brush, sobbing heavily. His knees failed. He 
 crashed down, face plowing into cool soil. 
 
 Captain " ! he moaned. Oh, boy I did n t 
 think you would fail - No wonder I 
 could n t keep going - 
 
 He did not hear the running feet, did not know 
 they rolled him over, Rhues with his gun up 
 raised. 
 
 "I got him, th - "he muttered. 
 
 "Then let s get out pronto!" 
 
 Twenty minutes later a man with a lantern 
 stepped out of the shack in which the Captain 
 had stood. Two others were with him. 
 
 "Yes, he left his horse there, all right," the 
 man with the light muttered. "He got to him 
 an got away. Nobody else could lead that horse 
 off. He could n t a been hard hit or he could n t 
 a got up."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 TABLES TURN; AND TURN AGAIN 
 
 A YOUNG chap from the East who was in 
 ^^ Clear River County because of his lungs 
 named her Delilah when she was only a little 
 girl Delilah Gomez. She cooked now for the 
 Double Six Ranch, the buildings of which clustered 
 within a stone s throw of the Ranger post office. 
 And that night as she sat looking from her window 
 she thought, as she did much of the time, about 
 the smiling Julio with his guitar the handsome 
 fellow who lived with Senor Rhues and did no 
 work, but wore such fine chaps and kerchiefs! 
 
 She sighed, then started to her feet as she saw 
 him come through the gate and up the path, and 
 hastened to open the door for him. 
 
 Julio took off his hat. 
 
 "It is late," he said, flashing his teeth. "I 
 come to ask you to do something for me, Delilah." 
 
 "What is it now so late?" she asked 
 breathlessly. 
 
 "In the old house across the road" he 
 pointed "is a horse. It is the horse of a friend. 
 A friend, also, of Senor Rhues. He is now in the 
 saloon. He is drunk. Will you take the horse 
 away? To the place of Senor Rhues? And 
 
 254
 
 TABLES TURN; AND TURN AGAIN 255 
 
 put him in the barn? And be sure to fasten 
 the door so he will not get out?" 
 
 Delilah was puzzled a moment. 
 
 "But why," she asked, "why so late?" 
 
 Julio bowed profoundly again. 
 
 "We go Serior Rhues, Senor Matson, and 
 I, Julio, to take our friend away from the saloon. 
 We are busy. Serior Rhues offers this." 
 
 He pressed a dollar into her palm. And for 
 the dollar and a flash of Julio s teeth, Delilah 
 went forth upon her commission. 
 
 The three men watched her go. 
 
 "That devil d tear a man to pieces," Rhues 
 muttered. "Any woman can handle him, though. 
 Git him locked up, an th - - tenderfoot can t 
 make it away! He ll have to stay an take 
 what s comin !" 
 
 The girl led the Captain down the road, past 
 the Double Six Ranch, on to the cramped little 
 barn behind the cabin where lived Rhues and his 
 two companions. 
 
 It was not an easy task. The Captain did not 
 want to go. He kept stopping and looking back. 
 But the girl talked to him kindly and stroked his 
 nose and VB himself had taught him to 
 respect women. This woman talked softly and 
 petted him much, for she remembered the great 
 horse she had seen ridden by the tall young fellow. 
 Besides, the dollar was still in her hand. She led 
 him into the cramped little barn, left him standing 
 and came out, closing the doors behind her. Then
 
 256 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 she set out for home, clasping the dollar and 
 thinking of Julio s smile. 
 
 The first shot attracted her. The second 
 alarmed, and those that followed terrified the 
 girl. She ran from the road ard hovered in the 
 shadow of a huge bowlder, watching fearfully, 
 uttering little moans of fright. 
 
 She heard everything. Some men ran past her 
 in the direction of Rhues s cabin, and she thought 
 one of them must be Julio. But she was too 
 frightened to stir, to try to determine ; too fright 
 ened to do anything but make for her own home. 
 
 The girl moved stealthily through the night, 
 facing the moon that swung low, unclouded again, 
 making all radiant. She wanted to run for home, 
 where she could hide under blankets, but caution 
 and fear held her to a walk. She did not cry out 
 when she stumbled over the body ; merely cowered, 
 holding both hands over her lips. 
 
 For a long time she stood by it, looking down, 
 not daring to stoop, not daring to go away. Then 
 the hand that sprawled on the dirt raised itself 
 fell back; the lips parted, a moan escaped, and 
 the head rolled from one side to the other. 
 
 The fear of dead things that had been on hej 
 passed. She saw only a human being who was 
 hurt. She dropped to her knees and took th* 
 head in her lap. 
 
 "Oh, por Dios! It is the senor who rode the 
 horse!" she muttered, and looked quickly ovet 
 her shoulder at the Rhues cabin.
 
 TABLES TURN; AND TURN AGAIN 257 
 
 They left him; they thought he was dead," 
 she went on aloud. "They should know; he 
 should be with them. They were going for him 
 when the shooting began!" 
 
 She looked closer into VB s face and he moaned 
 again. His eyes opened. The girl asked a 
 sharp question in Spanish. 
 
 "Is the senor much hurt?" she repeated in the 
 language he understood. 
 
 "Oh, Captain!" he moaned. "Why? Why 
 did you quit?" 
 
 She lifted him up then and he struggled slug 
 gishly to help himself. 
 
 Once he muttered: "Oh, Gail! It hurts so!" 
 
 She strained to the limits of her lithe strength 
 until she had him on his feet. Then she drew 
 one of his arms about her neck, bracing herself 
 to support his lagging weight. 
 
 "Come," she said comfortingly. "We will 
 go to them." 
 
 No light showed from the Rhues cabin, but the 
 girl was sure the men were there, or would com* 
 soon. Loyal to Julio for the dollar and th 
 memory of his graciousness, she worked with th< 
 heart of a good Samaritan, guiding the unconscious 
 steps of the muttering man toward the little darf 
 blot of houses. 
 
 It was a floundering progress. Twice in thf 
 first few rods the man went down and she was 
 sorely put to get him on his feet again. But the 
 moving about seemed to bring back his strength, 
 
 17
 
 258 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 and gradually he became better able to help 
 himself. 
 
 They crossed the road and passed through the 
 gap in the fence by the cabin. VB kept muttering 
 wildly, calling the girl Gail, calling for the Captain 
 in a plaintive voice. 
 
 "There they are now! See the light?" she 
 whispered. "It is not much. They have covered 
 the window. Yes." 
 
 "What?" VB asked, drawing a hand across 
 his eyes. 
 
 She repeated her assertion that the men were 
 in the cabin and he halted, refusing drunkenly 
 to go on. 
 
 "No," he said, shaking his head. "I m 
 unarmed they " 
 
 But she tugged at him and forced him to go 
 beside her. They progressed slowly, painfully, 
 quietly. There was no sound, except VB s hard 
 breathing, for they trod in dust. They approached 
 the house and the girl put out a hand to help her 
 along with the burden. 
 
 A thin streak of light came from a window. 
 It seemed to slash deeply into the staggering 
 man, bringing him back to himself. Then a 
 sound, the low, worried nickering of a horse! 
 The Mexican girl felt the arm about her neck 
 tighten and tremble. 
 
 "The Captain!" VB muttered, looking about 
 wildly. 
 
 He opened his lips to cry out to the horse as
 
 TABLES TURN; AND TURN AGAIN 259 
 
 the events of the night poured back into his 
 consciousness, to cry his questioning and his 
 sorrow, to put into words the mourning for a 
 faith, but that cry never came from his throat. 
 
 The nickering of the stallion and the flood of 
 memory had brought him to a clear understanding 
 of the situation; a sudden glare of light from the 
 abruptly uncovered window before which he and 
 the girl stood provoked an alertness which was 
 abnormally keen, that played with the subjective 
 rather than the more cumbersome objective. 
 He stooped with the quickness of a drop and 
 vScuttled into the shadows, cautious, the first law 
 of man athrob. 
 
 The man who had brushed away the blanket 
 that had screened the window burst into irritated 
 talk. VB recognized him as Matson, Back in 
 the shadows of the room he saw the Mexican 
 standing. 
 
 A table was close to the window, so close that 
 in crow r ding behind it Matson had torn down the 
 blanket that had done service as a curtain. A 
 lamp burned on the table, its wick so high that 
 smoke streamed upward through the cracked 
 chimney. And close beside the lamp, eyes 
 glittering, cruel cunning in every line, the flush 
 of anger smearing it, was the face of Rhues! 
 
 VB, crouching there, saw then that Matson s 
 finger was leveled at Rhues. 
 
 "It ain t good money!" 
 
 That was the declaration Matson had made as
 
 260 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 the blanket slipped down and disclosed the scene. 
 He repeated it, and his voice rose to a snarl. 
 
 Delilah started to rise but VB jerked her back 
 with a vehemence that shot a new fear through 
 the girl, that made her breathe quickly and 
 loudly. For the first time he turned and looked 
 at the girl, not to discover who this might be thai 
 had brought him to the nest of those who sough* 
 his life, but to threaten. 
 
 "You stay here," he whispered sharply. "D 
 you make a sound, I 11 you 11 never forget it ! 
 
 His face was close to hers and he wagged his 
 head to emphasize the warning. 
 
 Where she had expected to find a friend the 
 Mexican girl realized that she had encountered 
 a foe. Where she had, from the fullness of 
 her heart and for a dollar and the admiration 
 of Julio, sought to help, she knew now that she 
 had wronged. His intensity filled her with this 
 knowledge and sent her shrinking against the 
 wall of the cabin, a hand half raised to her cheek, 
 trembling, wanting to whimper for mercy. 
 
 "Keep still!" he warned again, and, stretchinp 
 one hand toward her as though to do sentry 
 duty, ready to throttle any sound, to stay any 
 flight, to bolster his commands, he crept closer 
 to the window. 
 
 "Why ain t it good?" Rhues was asking in ^ 
 voice that carried no great conviction, as thoug ^ 
 he merely stalled for time. 
 
 VB saw him stretch a bill close to the lamp
 
 TABLES TURN; AND TURN AGAIN 261 
 
 and Matson lean low beside him. The light 
 fell on the piece of currency, not six feet from 
 VB s fever-bright eyes. He saw that they were 
 inspecting a fifty-dollar bill issued by the Con 
 federate States of America! And Rhues said 
 grudgingly: "Well, if that ain t good, they s 
 only six hunderd n all!" 
 
 Up came the buried memories, struggling 
 through all the welded events in the furnace 
 consciousness of the man who pressed his face so 
 close to the window s crinkly glass. His eyes 
 sought aimlessly for some object that might sug 
 gest a solution for the slipping thought he tried 
 to grasp. They found it found it in a rumpled, 
 coiled contrivance of leather that lay beside the 
 lamp. It was a money belt. The money belt 
 that Kelly, the horse buyer, had worn! 
 
 Six hundred dollars ! And a Confederate States 
 fifty-dollar bill! They were quarreling over the 
 spoils of that chill murder! 
 
 VB swayed unsteadily as he felt a rage swell 
 in him, a rage that nullified caution. He turned 
 his eyes back to the Mexican girl cringing just 
 out of his reach and moved the extended hand up 
 and down slowly to keep his warning fresh upon 
 her. He wanted time to think, just a moment 
 to determine what action would be most advisable. 
 His heart raced unevenly and he thought the hot 
 edges of his wound were blistering. 
 
 "That s two hundred apiece, then," Rhues 
 said, and straightened.
 
 262 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 VB saw that the hand which had dropped the 
 worthless piece of paper held a roll of yellow- 
 backed bills. 
 
 "Two hundred we all git," he growled. "You 
 git it, Julio gits it, I git it an I m th party 
 what done th work!" 
 
 VB stooped and grasped Delilah roughly by 
 the arm. He held a finger to his lips as he dragged 
 the shaking girl out to where she could see. 
 
 "Watch!" he commanded, close in her ear. 
 Watch Rhues and the others ! 
 
 Rhues counted slowly, wetting his thumb with 
 hasty movements and dropping bills from the 
 roll to the table top. 
 
 Both you " he looked up to indicate Matson 
 and Julio "gits s much s me, an I done th 
 work!" 
 
 "An if we re snagged, we stand as good a 
 chanct o gettin away as you," Matson remarked, 
 and laughed shortly. 
 
 Rhues looked up again and narrowed the red 
 lids over his eyes. 
 
 "You said it!" he snarled. "That s why it s 
 good to keep yer mouths shut! That s why you 
 got to dig out with me. 
 
 "If I m snagged remember, they s plenty 
 o stories I could tell about you two an I will, 
 too, if I m snagged cause o you!" 
 
 He worked his shoulders in awkward gesture. 
 
 "An that s why we want our share," Matson 
 growled back. "An want it quick! We watched
 
 TABLES TURN; AND TURN AGAIN 263 
 
 th road; you done th killin . We thought it 
 
 was jus to settle things with that , but it 
 
 wasn t. It was profitable." 
 
 He ended with another short laugh. 
 
 "Well, I said I d git him, did n t I? An I did, 
 didn t I? An if th first time went wrong it 
 was profitable, was n t it?" 
 
 "Yes, but queek, queeker!" the Mexican broke 
 in. "They might come now!" 
 
 "Well, quit snivelin !" snapped Rhues. "It 
 did n t go as we planned. I had to shoot fore 
 I wanted to. But I got him, didn t I?" 
 
 Julio reached for the pile of bills Rhues shoved 
 toward him; Matson took his; Rhues pocketed 
 the rest. And outside, VB relaxed his hold on 
 the girl s wrist, raising both hands upward and 
 out, fingers stiff and claw-like. 
 
 Kelly, good-natured, careless, likable, trusting 
 Kelly, had gone out to pay toll to this man s 
 viciousness; had gone because he, VB, would not 
 submit to Rhues s bullying! And now they 
 laughed, and called it a profitable mistake! 
 
 All his civilized, law-abiding nature rose in its 
 might. All that spirit which demands an eye 
 for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, which makes for 
 statutes and courts and the driving of nations 
 into fixed paths, lifted VB above any caution 
 that the circumstances could have engendered. 
 His whole nature cried out for the justice he had 
 been trained to respect; his single remaining 
 impulse was to make this man Rhues suffer for
 
 264 _! CONQUERED" 
 
 the act of which there was such ample evidence. 
 
 He struggled to find a way toward retribution, 
 /or in a moment it might be too late. He had 
 no thought beyond the instant, no idea but to 
 possess himself of something more, to make the 
 case stronger for society. He had seen, he had 
 heard, he had the girl beside him, but he wanted 
 more evidence. 
 
 Matson moved away from the window and as 
 he did so the sash sagged inward. It was a 
 hinged casing! 
 
 His hands numb from excitement, VB forced 
 his arms against it, shoving stoutly. The force 
 of his effort precipitated his head and shoulders 
 into the room! He had a flash of the three men 
 as they whirled and poised, with oaths, but his 
 mind did not linger on them. His fingers clutched 
 the money belt, drew it to him, and as Rhues 
 dropped a hand to his hip VB staggered backward 
 out of the window, stuffing the money belt inside 
 his shirt, in against the hot wound, and stared 
 about him. 
 
 For an instant, silence, as Rhues stood, gun 
 drawn, shoulders forward, gazing at the empty 
 window. Then upon them came a shrill, quaver 
 ing, anxious cry the call of the Captain.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 LIFE, THE TROPHY 
 
 nPO VB, at the sound of the stallion s neigh- 
 -* ing, came the realization of his position - 
 weaponless in the midst of men who, now of all 
 times, would shoot to kill! His righteous abhor 
 rence of the murder Rhues had done and in which 
 the others had been conspirators did not lessen. 
 He did not falter in his determination for venge 
 ance; but his thirst for it did not detract one whit 
 from his realization of the situation s difficulties. 
 
 Seconds were precious. Just a lone instant 
 he poised, looking quickly about, and to his ears 
 came again the cry of the horse, plaintive, wor 
 ried, appealing. 
 
 "Captain!" he cried, and started to run. 
 "Captain! You didn t fail! They brought 
 you!" 
 
 His voice lifted to a shout as he rounded the 
 corner of the house, and the Captain answered. 
 
 With the horse located, VB stumbled across 
 the short intervening space, one hand to his 
 breast doing the double duty of attempting to 
 still the searing of that wound and hold fast to 
 the money belt. He flung himself at the door of 
 the low little stable, jerked the fastening apart, 
 and, backing in, saw men run from the house, 
 
 265
 
 266 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 heard them curse sharply, and saw them turn 
 and look, each with his shooting hand raised. 
 
 VB drew the door shut after him, trembling, 
 thinking swiftly. The Captain nosed him and 
 nickered relief, stepping about in his agitation as 
 though he knew the desperate nature of the 
 corner into which they had been driven. 
 
 "We ve got to get out, boy," VB cried, run 
 ning his numb hands over the animal s face in 
 caress. "We re up against it, but there s a way 
 out!" 
 
 It was good to be back. It was good to feel 
 that thick, firm neck again, to have the warm 
 breath of the vital beast on his cheek, to sense 
 his dominating presence for it did dominate, 
 even in that strained circumstance, and in the 
 stress VB found half hysterical joy and voiced it : 
 
 "You didn t quit, Captain!" he cried as he 
 felt the cinch hastily. "You did n t quit. They 
 that woman! She brought you here!" 
 
 He flung his arms about the stallion s head in a 
 quick, nervous embrace at the cost of a mighty 
 cutting pain across his chest. 
 
 Then the cautious voice of Rhues, outside and 
 close up to the door, talking lowly and swiftly: 
 
 "Julio, saddle th buckskin! Quick! I ll hold 
 him here till we re ready! Then I ll shoot th 
 - down in his tracks ! We got to ride, any 
 how nothin 11 make no difference now!" 
 
 Raising his voice, Rhues taunted: 
 
 "Pray, you ! Yer goin to cash!"
 
 LIFE, THE TROPHY 267 
 
 VB pressed his face to a crack and saw Rhues 
 in the moonlight, close up to the door. He also 
 saw another man, Julio, leading a horse from the 
 corral on the run. Two other animals, saddled, 
 stood near. 
 
 He was cornered, helpless, in their hands 
 hard hands, that knew no mercy. But he did 
 not give up. His mind worked nimbly, skipping 
 from possibility to possibility, looking, searching 
 for a way out. 
 
 He reeled to the black horse and felt the 
 animal s breath against the back of his neck. 
 
 "We re up against it, boy," he whispered. 
 
 And the voice of Rhues again: "They ll find 
 him to-morrow with th belt!" 
 
 He broke off suddenly, as though the words had 
 set in his mind a new idea. 
 
 VB did not hear; would not have heeded had 
 his senses registered the words, because an odd 
 apathy had come over him, dulling the pain of 
 his wound, deadening the realization of his danger. 
 He sighed deeply and shook himself and tried to 
 rally, but though a part of him insisted that he 
 gather his faculties and force them to alertness, 
 another tired, lethargic self overbore the warning. 
 Half consciously he pulled the stirrup toward 
 him, put up his foot with an unreal effort, and 
 laboriously drew himself to the saddle. There, 
 he leaned forward on his arms, which were 
 crossed on the Captain s neck, oblivious to all 
 that transpired.
 
 268 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 But the great stallion was not insensible to the 
 situation. He could not know the danger, but he 
 did know that he had been led into a strange 
 place, shut there and left virtually a prisoner; 
 ihat his master had burst in upon him atremble 
 yith communicable excitement; that strange 
 /oices were raised close to him ; that men had been 
 funning to and fro; that the sounds of struggling 
 horses were coming from out there; that some 
 man was standing on the other side of the door, 
 closer than most men had ever stood to him. He 
 breathed loudly; then stilled that breath to listen, 
 his head moving with frequent, short jerks as he 
 saw objects move past the cracks in the building. 
 He switched his tail about his hindquarters 
 sharply, and backed a step. 
 
 Another voice called softly to Rhues, and Rhues 
 answered : 
 
 "Dah! When I rolled him over his holster 
 flopped out of his shirt, empty. He dropped it 
 in th s loon. If he d had a gun he d done fer us 
 n there, would n t he?" 
 
 Then his voice was raised in a sharp command : 
 "Help him, Julio! Hang on to his ear an he ll 
 stand. Pronto!" 
 
 Sounds of men grunting, of a horse striving to 
 break from them; a sharp cry. These things - 
 and emanating from a scene taking place outside 
 the Captain s sight! He half wheeled and 
 scrubbed the back wall of the stable with his hip, 
 blowing loudly in fright. He stamped a forefoot
 
 LIFE, THE TROPHY 269 
 
 impatiently; followed that by a brisk, nervous 
 pawing. He tossed his head and chewed his bit 
 briskly; then shook his head and blew loudly 
 again. He shied violently as a man ran past 
 the door, wheeled, crashed into the wall again 
 and, crouching, quivered violently. 
 
 VB moaned with pain. When the horse under 
 him had shied the boy had pushed himself erect 
 in the saddle and the effort tore at the wound in 
 his chest. The pain roused him, and as the 
 Captain again wheeled, frantic to find a way out 
 of this pen, VB s heels clapped inward to retain 
 his seat, the spurs drove home, and with a whimper 
 the horse reared to his hind legs, lunged forward, 
 and the front hoofs, shooting out, crashed squarely 
 against the closed door! 
 
 Under the force of the blow the door swept 
 outward, screaming on its rusty hinges. A third 
 of the way open it struck resistance, quivered, 
 seemed to hesitate, then continued on its arc. 
 
 A surprised, muffled shout, the sound of a body 
 striking ground, a shot, its stream of fire spitting 
 toward the night sky. Then the vicious smiting 
 of hoofs as the Captain, bearing his witless rider, 
 swung in a short circle and made for the river. 
 
 Rhues, caught and knocked flat by the burst 
 ing open of the door, was perhaps a half-dozen 
 seconds in getting to his feet. He came up 
 shooting, a stream of leaden missiles shrieking 
 aimlessly off into space. Julio and Matson, busy 
 with the refractory buckskin, heard the crash
 
 2 7 o "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 and creak of the swinging door, heard the shout, 
 heard the shot; they turned to see the black 
 stallion sweep from the little building and swirl 
 past them, ears back, teeth gleaming, and bearing 
 to the north. 
 
 Still clinging to the buckskin s head, the Mexican 
 drew his gun; Matson, utterly bewildered, fearful 
 of impending consequences, gave the cinch a 
 final tug, but before Julio could fire the water of 
 the river was thrown in radiant spray as the 
 Captain floundered into midstream with VB low 
 on his neck. 
 
 Then Rhues was on them, putting into choking 
 words the vileness of his heart. He did not 
 explain beyond: 
 
 Th - - horse ! Th door got me ! " 
 
 He seized the cheek strap of the buckskin s 
 bridle and swung up, while the others watched 
 the horse running out into the moonlit river. 
 The pony reared and pivoted on his hind legs. 
 
 "Git on yer hosses!" Rhues screeched, yanking 
 at the bit. "He can t git away, with his hoss run 
 down once to-night ! An if we let him we 
 swing!" 
 
 Goaded by that terror they obeyed, hanging 
 spurs in their horses flanks before they found 
 stirrups, and the trio whirled down to the water. 
 
 "He s goin home!" Rhues cried above the 
 splashing. "That s our way out; we ll git him 
 as we go long! We ll ride him down; he ain t 
 got a gun ! An they 11 find him out yonder with
 
 LIFE, THE TPOPHY 271 
 
 th money belt on him! We " He broke 
 short with a laugh. "We could claim th reward! 
 Two fifty, dead r alive!" 
 
 Matson snarled something. Then, as their 
 horses struggled up the far bank of the stream, 
 completed it: 
 
 - with th reward ! What we want s a 
 get-away ! 
 
 "We re on our way now," growled Rhues, and 
 lashed his pony viciously with the ends of his 
 bridle reins. 
 
 Knee to knee they raced, the ponies stretching 
 their heads far out in efforts to cover that light 
 ribbon of road which clove the cloudlike sage 
 brush and ate up the distance between their 
 position and that scudding blur ahead. Each 
 had his gun drawn and held high in the right 
 hand ready for use; each, with eyes only for that 
 before them, with minds only for speed and 
 quick speculation on what might happen should 
 they fail. 
 
 The creak of leather, the sharp batter of hoofs, 
 the rattle of pebbles as they were thrown out 
 against the rocks, the excited breathing of horses : 
 A race, with human life the trophy! 
 
 And VB, looking back, saw. With set teeth 
 he leaned still lower over the Captain s neck in 
 spite of the raging the posture set up in his torn 
 breast. No will of his had directed the stallion 
 in that flight northward. His unexpected dash 
 through the barn door, the quick recognition of
 
 272 "_1 CONgiTERiiD 
 
 the point they had scored, the sharp pang which 
 came when VB realized the fact that the horsed 
 break for home had cut him off from help that 
 might have remained in Ranger, left the wounded 
 man in a swirl of confused impressions. 
 
 Behind all the jumble was the big urge to reach 
 that place which had been the only true haven 
 of his experience. He felt a glimmer of solace 
 when he sensed that he was going home which 
 quite neutralized the terror that the glance at 
 those oncoming riders provoked. The comfort 
 inculcated by the idea grew into clear thinking; 
 from there on into the status of an obsession. 
 He was going home! He was on the way, with 
 that mighty beast under him! He raised more 
 of his weight to the stirrups and laid a reassuring 
 hand on the snapping shoulder of his horse. 
 
 And on his trail rode the merciless three, their 
 eyes following the bending course of the road, 
 hat-brims now blown back against the crowns, 
 now down over their eyes in the rush through the 
 night. Rhues rode a quarter of a length ahead 
 of the others, and his automatic was raised higher 
 than were their gun-hands. Now and then one 
 of the trio spoke sharply to his horse and grunted 
 as he raked with a spur, but for the greater part 
 of the time they did not lift their voices above 
 the thunder of the race. They knew what must 
 happen; they held their own, and waited! 
 
 "Go, boy, go!" whispered VB. "We ll run 
 their legs off; they ll never get in range!"
 
 LIFE, THE TROPHY 273 
 
 The Captain held an attentive ear backward 
 a moment, then shot it forward, watching the 
 road, holding his rolling, space-eating stride. VB 
 turned his head and again looked back. They 
 were still there ! No nearer but he had not 
 shaken them off. Two, perhaps three, miles 
 had been covered and they hung by him, just 
 within sight, just beyond that point where they 
 might fire with an even chance of certainty. He 
 pressed his arm against his burning breast, 
 crowding the treasured money belt tighter against 
 the wound. Somehow, it seemed to dull the tor 
 ment, and for minutes he held the pressure con 
 stant, still lifted to supreme heights of endeavor 
 and ability to withstand suffering by the rage 
 that had welled up from his depths as he stood 
 back in the shadow of the cabin and had the 
 suspicion of how and why Kelly had met death 
 become certainty. 
 
 Another mile, and he turned to look back again. 
 They still hung there, making a blur in the moon 
 light, fanciful, half floating, but he knew they 
 were real, knew that they hammered their way 
 through the night with lust for his life! 
 
 Captain ! " he cried, apprehension rising. Go 
 it, boy; go it!" 
 
 He pressed a spur lightly against his side and 
 felt the great beast quiver between strides. 
 The pace quickened a trifle, but VB saw that the 
 ears were no longer held steadily to the fore, that 
 the head ducked with each leap forward as he 
 
 18
 
 274 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 had never seen it duck before. And as the 
 thought with its killing remorse thundered into 
 his intelligence, VB sat erect in the saddle with 
 a gasp and a movement which staggered the 
 running animal that bore him. 
 
 The Captain s strength had been drained! For 
 twenty strides VB sat there, inert, a dead weight, 
 while grief came into his throat, into his vision, 
 deadening his mind. In all that melodrama which 
 began when he stared through the saloon door and 
 saw Rhues standing in the moonlight, gun ready, 
 the reason for his presence in Ranger, the history 
 of the earlier night, had been obliterated for the 
 time being. Now, as he felt the beast under him 
 labor, heard his heavy breathing, saw the froth 
 on his lips, it all came back to Young VB. 
 
 Oh, Captain ! " he wailed, leaning forward 
 again, eyes burning, throat choking. 
 
 And for a long time he rode as though unable 
 to do else but hold his position over the fork of 
 the saddle. 
 
 He was stunned, beaten down by poignant 
 remorse. The Captain had made the long ride 
 from Jed s to Ranger at a killing pace. VB 
 remembered acutely now that the stallion had 
 staggered as he emerged from Clear River and 
 came into view of the saloon lights. And he 
 had been there how long? An hour of poker, 
 perhaps; an hour more at the outside. Two 
 hours for the horse to regain the strength that 
 had been taken from him in that cruel ride a
 
 LIFE, THE TROPHY 275 
 
 ride taken to satisfy the viciousness which made 
 VB a man uncertain of himself ! 
 
 The Captain had been wasted! He had gone, 
 as had VB s heart and mind, to be a sacrifice for 
 hideous gods! In an hour of weakness he had 
 been offered, had been given gladly, and without 
 thought of his value! For had not VB gloried 
 in that ride to Ranger? Had it not been the end 
 of all things for him? An end for which he was 
 thankful ? Had it not been all conscious, witting, 
 planned ? It had and it had not been worth 
 the candle! 
 
 The boy moaned aloud and wound his fingers 
 in the flapping mane. 
 
 "Captain!" he cried. "It was all wrong 
 all false! I threw you away an hour ago, and 
 now you re life to me! Oh, boy, will you 
 forgive? Can you?" 
 
 No fear of death tapped the wells of his grief. 
 There was only sorrow for his wasting of that 
 great animal, that splendid spirit, that clean 
 strength ! 
 
 After a moment he sobbed: "You can t do 
 anything else but go on, boy ! You re that sort ! 
 You ll go, then I ll go; anyhow, it will be to 
 gether!" 
 
 And the great beast, blowing froth from his 
 lips, struggled on, while from behind came the 
 sounds of other running horses perhaps a 
 trifle nearer.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 VICTORY 
 
 THE road writhed on through the sage brush 
 sixteen miles from Ranger before it branched. 
 Then to the right ran the S Bar S route, while 
 straight on it headed into Jed s ranch, and the 
 left-hand course, shooting away from the others 
 behind a long, rocky point, followed Sand Creek 
 up to the cluster of buildings which marked the 
 domicile of Dick Worth. 
 
 It was more than halfway. The Captain, now 
 trotting heavily, now breaking once more into 
 a floundering gallop, passed the first fork, that 
 leading toward Worth s. With a gulp of relief 
 VB saw that the moon hung low in the west 
 so low that the road home would be in the shadow 
 of the point, which seemed to come down pur 
 posely to split the highway. He might then 
 find refuge in darkness somewhere. He mus> 
 have refuge! 
 
 At the tenth mile he had suspected, now h^ 
 knew, that it would be impossible to stand oiP 1 
 his pursuers clear to the ranch, and there were n 
 habitations between him and Jed s. 
 
 "They haven t gained on you, boy!" he cried 
 as he made out the distinct outlines of the point . 
 "They re right where they were at the star! ! 
 
 276
 
 VICTORY 277 
 
 No other horse in the world could have done 
 it ; not even you should be asked to do it but - 
 out" 
 
 He choked back the sob that fought to come. 
 He knew he must concentrate his last energy,, 
 now. If he came through there would be time 
 to think of his crime against the Captain! But 
 now - Futures depend on lives. His life dan 
 gled in the balance, and he wanted it, as men 
 can want life only when they feel it slipping. 
 
 Back there three men raked the streaming sides 
 of their ponies with vicious spurs. 
 
 "He can t make it!" Rhues swore. "Th 
 black s quittin now! If he gits away, what 
 chance we got? We got to git him! It ll give 
 us th last chance!" 
 
 "We re killin our horses," growled Matson. 
 
 And Julio, a length behind, flogged his pinto 
 mercilessly. 
 
 No craving for VB s life prompted Rhues 
 now. He must go on for the sake of his own 
 safety. He and those other two had all to gain 
 and nothing to lose. If they could drop the man 
 ahead it would be possible to skirt the ranches, 
 catch fresh horses, and make on toward Wyoming. 
 But let VB gain shelter with Jed or any one else, 
 and a posse would be on their trail before they 
 could be beyond reach. 
 
 No, there could be no turning back ! They had 
 made their bet; now they must back it with the 
 whole stack. And before them that blot in the
 
 278 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 moonlight a wounded, suffering man cried aloud 
 to the horse that moved so heavily under him. 
 
 "Make it to the point, Captain!" he begged. 
 "Just there! It ll be dark! Only a little faster, 
 boy!" 
 
 The stallion grunted under the stress of his 
 effort, moving for the moment with less uncer 
 tainty, with a jot more speed. 
 
 They crawled up to the point and followed the 
 bend of the road as it led into the dimness of 
 the gulch. Across the way, far to the right, 
 moonlight fell on the cliffs, but where the 
 road hung close to the rise at the left all was in 
 shadow. 
 
 To VB, entering the murk was like plunging from 
 the heat of glaring day to the cool of a forest. 
 
 The men behind him would be forced to come 
 twice as close before they could make firing 
 effective. Then, when he reached the ranch 
 
 He threw out an arm in a gesture of utter hope 
 lessness. Reach the ranch? He laughed aloud, 
 mocking his own guilelessness. He had come 
 only a little more than half the distance now, 
 and Captain could scarcely be held at a trot. 
 Three miles, possibly five, he might last, and then 
 his rider would have to face his pursuers with 
 empty hands. 
 
 His was the very epitome of despair. A weaker 
 man would have quit then, would have let the 
 stallion flounder to his finish, would have waited sub 
 missively for Rhues to come and shoot him down.
 
 VICTORY 279 
 
 But VB possessed the strength of his desperation. 
 
 Rhues might get him now, as he had tried to 
 get him twice before, but he would get him by 
 fighting. Not wholly for himself did the boy 
 think, but for the likable, friendly Kelly, who had 
 died there in his blankets without warning. If 
 he could rid men of the menace which Rhues 
 represented he would have done service, and the 
 life of those last months had implanted within 
 him the will to be of use though, a few hours 
 back, he might have thought it all a delusion. 
 
 So VB was alert with the acute alertness of 
 mind which is given to humans when forced to 
 fight to preserve life when everything, the 
 buried subconscious impulses, the forgotten, 
 tucked-away memories, are in the fore, crying to 
 help. Abandoning hope of reaching Jed s, he 
 turned all his physical force, even, into the 
 mental effort to seek a way out; fought his way 
 to clarified thought, fought his way into logic. 
 He could not go on much longer; there was no 
 such thing as turning back, for he could hear 
 them, nearer now! He could hear the click of 
 pebbles as his pursuers horses sent them scatter 
 ing, and a pebble click will not travel far. Ahead 
 -weakening muscles; behind guns ready; to 
 the right moonlight; to the left 
 
 The bridle rein drew across the Captain s 
 lathered neck. The big beast swung to the left, 
 out of the road, crashed through the brush, and 
 lunged against the rise of rocks.
 
 2 So "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 The horse seemed to sense the fact that this 
 was the one remaining chance, the last possi 
 bility left in their bag of tricks. He picked his 
 way up among the ragged bowlders and spiked 
 brush with a quickness of movement that told 
 of the breaking through into those reservoirs of 
 strength which are held in man and bea,st until 
 a last hope is found. 
 
 VB went suddenly faint. The loss of blood, 
 the pain, the stress of nervous thought, the know 
 ing that his full hand was on the table, caused 
 him to reel dizzily in the saddle. He made no 
 pretense of guiding the Captain. He merely 
 sagged forward and felt the horse lunge and 
 plunge and climb with him, heard the rasping 
 breath that seemed to come from a torn throat. 
 
 Below and behind, the trailers swept from 
 moonlight into shadow, horses wallowing as 
 though that hard road were in deep mud, so great 
 was the race that the stallion, spent though he 
 might be, had given them. Rhues was ahead, 
 revolver held higher than before, Matson s pony 
 at his flank and Julio a dozen lengths behind. 
 Bridle reins, knotted, hung loosely on their 
 horses necks; the three left hands rose and fell 
 and quirts swished viciously through the night air. 
 
 "We got to close in!" Rhues cried. "We ll 
 have him n a mile!" 
 
 And he called down on the heads of the horses 
 awful imprecations for their weakness. 
 
 On into the darkness they stormed, Julio
 
 VICTORY 281 
 
 trailing. And when Rhues had passed by fifty 
 yards the point where the Captain had turned to 
 take the steep climb the Mexican opened his 
 throat in a cry, half of fright, half of exultation. 
 
 The Captain, almost at the end of his climb, 
 leaping from rise to rise, had missed his footing. 
 The soft earth slid as he jumped for a ledge of 
 rock, and the front feet, coming down on the 
 smooth surface in frantic clawing to prevent a 
 fall, sent fire streaming from their shoes. In the 
 darkness Julio had seen the orange sparks. At 
 his cry the others set their ponies back on haunches 
 and, following the Mexican, who now led, cursing 
 VB and their weakening mounts, they com 
 menced the climb. VB knew. The flash from 
 the stallion s feet had roused him; he heard the 
 shout; he knew what must follow. He gave no 
 heed to the bullet which bored the air above 
 him as he was silhouetted for the instant against 
 moonlit space before he commenced the drop 
 to the road leading up Sand Creek. 
 
 Where now? With a sigh which ended in a 
 quick choking, as though he were through, ready 
 to give up this ghost of a chance, ready to quit 
 struggling on, the Captain dropped from the last 
 little rim and turned into the road. Not on ahead 
 - into that void where they could ride him down. 
 Not back toward Ranger, for it was impossibly 
 far. Where then? What was there? Sand 
 Creek! And up Sand Creek was Dick Worth s! 
 
 VB caught his breath in a sob. It was the one
 
 282 "__I CONQUERED" 
 
 goal open to him, though the odds were crushing. 
 He pressed the money belt tightly. Dick Worth 
 was the man who should have that Dick 
 Worth, deputy sheriff! He lifted his voice and 
 cried aloud the name of the deputy. 
 
 To the north once more the Captain headed, 
 and with no word from VB took up the floundering 
 way again. The boy looked behind and saw the 
 others commence the drop down the moonlit 
 point saw one of the blurs slump quickly and 
 heard a man scream. Then he leaned low on the 
 stallion and talked to the horse as he would talk 
 to a child who could pilot him to safety. 
 
 Behind him, along the road, came the blot 
 again, now, however, smaller. VB did not know 
 that it was Julio who had fallen, but he knew 
 with a fierce delight that the Captain, running 
 on his bare spirit, had killed off one of the 
 pursuers ! 
 
 The boy grew hysterical. He chattered to the 
 stallion, knowing nothing of the words he uttered. 
 At times his lips moved but uttered no sound. 
 Continually his hands sought his breast. He 
 knew from the dampness that crept down his 
 side, on down into the trouser leg, that the wound 
 still bled, that his life was running out through 
 the gash. 
 
 Through the clamoring of his heart a familiar 
 ache came into his throat, and the boy lifted his 
 voice into the night with a rant of rage, of self- 
 denunciation.
 
 VICTORY 283 
 
 "Oh, Captain! You were the price!" he 
 moaned. 
 
 But still he wanted just one drink ! Not to 
 satisfy that craving now, but to keep him alive, 
 a legitimate use for stimulant. 
 
 The stallion ceased pretense of galloping. 
 Now and then he even dropped from his uncer 
 tain trotting to a walk. 
 
 VB, watching behind, could just make out 
 those other travelers in the light of the low- 
 hanging moon which seemed to balance on the 
 ragged horizon and linger for sight of the finish 
 of this grim drama worked out in the lonely 
 stretches. As the horse stumbled more and 
 more frequently under him VB knew that those 
 w r ho pressed him were coming closer. Then 
 a flash of flame and a bullet spattered itself 
 against a rock ahead and to the right. 
 
 "They re closer, Captain!" he muttered grimly. 
 "The game s going against us against you. 
 I m too much of a burden too much weight." 
 
 His mind seized upon the aimless words. The 
 suddenness of his shifting in the saddle made 
 the stallion stagger, for VB s whole weight went 
 into the right stirrup. He drew the other up 
 with fiendish tinges shooting through his breast 
 and tore at the cinch. It came loose. The 
 saddle turned. VB flung his arms about the 
 Captain s neck and kicked it from under him. 
 
 "Fifty pounds gone!" he muttered tri 
 umphantly, and the horse tossed his head,
 
 284 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 quickening the trot, trying once again the heavy 
 gallop. 
 
 VB could hear the horse breathing through his 
 mouth. He looked down and saw that the long 
 tongue flopped from the lips with every movement 
 of the fine head. Tears came to his eyes as he 
 caressed the Captain s withers frantically. 
 
 "Can I do more, boy?" he asked in a strained 
 voice. "Can I do more?" 
 
 It was as though he pleaded with a dying 
 human. 
 
 "Yes, I can do more!" he cried a moment later 
 in answer to his own question. "You ve given 
 your whole to me ; now I 11 give you back your 
 freedom, make you as free as you were the day 
 I took you. I ll strip you, boy!" 
 
 He reached far out along the neck, drawing 
 his weight up on the withers, and loosed the 
 head-stall. The bridle fell into the road and the 
 Captain ran naked! And, as though to show his 
 gratitude, the horse shook his head groggily and 
 reeled on in his crazy progress. 
 
 A half mile farther on the Captain fell. VB 
 went down heavily and mounted the waiting 
 horse again in a daze from which he was 
 roused by the fresh gushing on his breast. 
 Another shot from behind then two close 
 together. 
 
 Dawn was coming. He looked around vaguely. 
 The moon was slipping away. Perhaps yet it 
 would be in at the finish. The shimmering light
 
 VICTORY 285 
 
 of new day was taking from objects their ghostly 
 quality; making them real. The men behind 
 could see VB and they were . firing ! 
 
 The boy said no word to the Captain. He 
 merely clamped his knees tighter and leaned 
 lower on his neck. He had ceased to think, 
 ceased to struggle. His trust, his life, was in the 
 shaking legs of the animal he rode, whose sweat 
 soaked through his clothing to mingle with the 
 blood there. 
 
 The stallion breathed in great moaning sobs, 
 as though his heart were bursting, as though his 
 lungs were raw and bleeding. He reeled from 
 side to side crazily. Now and then he ran out 
 of the road and floundered blindly back. His 
 head hung low, almost to his knees, and swung 
 from side to side with each step, and at intervals 
 he raised it as though it were a great weight, to 
 gasp and to sob ! 
 
 From behind, bullets. Rhues and Matson fired 
 grimly. They had ceased to lash their ponies, 
 for it was useless. The beasts were beyond giving 
 better service in return for punishment. Their 
 sides dripped blood, but they were beyond suffer 
 ing. Handicapped as he had been, the Captain 
 had held them off, almost stride for stride. 
 
 Better light now, but their shooting could not 
 hope to find a mark except through chance. They 
 cursed in glad snarls as they saw the stallion reel, 
 sink to his knees; then snarled again as they saw 
 him recover and go on at his drunken trot.
 
 2 86 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 Before VB s eyes floated a blotch of color. It 
 was golden, a diffused light that comforted him; 
 that, for some incomprehensible reason, was 
 soothing to the senses. It eased the wound, too, 
 and put new strength in his heart so that he could 
 feel the warm blood seeping slowly into his numb 
 arms and hands and fingers. He smiled foolishly 
 and hugged the Captain s neck as the horse reeled 
 along. Oh, it was a glorious color! He remem 
 bered the day he had seen a little patch of it 
 scudding along the roadway in the sunshine. 
 Why, it had seemed like concentrated sunshine 
 itself. 
 
 Gail, he murmured. It was you I did n t 
 want to put that mark on you!" 
 
 The nature of that color became clear to him 
 and he roused himself. It was a light a light 
 in a window the window of a ranch house 
 Dick Worth s ranch house! 
 
 Bullets had ceased to zip and sing and spatter. 
 He did not turn to see what had become of his 
 pursuers, for -he was capable of only one thought 
 at a time. 
 
 Dick Worth ! Dick Worth ! " he screamed. 
 
 Then he looked behind. Away to the left he 
 saw two riders pushing through the dawn, de- 
 touring. And he laughed, almost gayly. 
 
 Another blotch of light, a bigger one, showed 
 in the young day. It was an opened door, and 
 a deep chest gave forth an answer to his cry. 
 Dick Worth stepped from the threshold of his
 
 VICTORY 287 
 
 home and ran to the gate to see better this crazy 
 figure which lurched toward him. It was a man 
 on foot, hatless, his face gray like the sky above, 
 hair tousled, eyes glowing red. He stumbled 
 to the fence and leaned there for support, holding 
 something forward, something limp and blood 
 stained. 
 
 Dick it s Kelly s money belt Rhues 
 he killed him He shot me he s got the 
 money on him he s swinging off west 
 two of em Their horses are all in He- 
 he shot Kelly because I would n t take a 
 drink he and I need a drink " 
 
 He slumped down against the fence. 
 
 After an uncertain age VB swam back from 
 that mental vacuity to reality. He saw, first, 
 that the Captain was beside him, standing there 
 breathing loudly, eyes closed, sobbing low at 
 every heave of his lungs. 
 
 A quavering moan made its way to the boy s 
 throat and he moved over, reaching out groping 
 arms for the stallion s lowered head. 
 
 "Captain!" he moaned. "Oh, boy it was 
 our last ride I can never ask you to carry 
 me again." 
 
 He hugged the face closer to his. 
 
 Then he heard a man s voice saying: 
 
 "Here, VB, take this it ll brace you up!" 
 
 He turned his face slowly, for the strength that 
 remained was far from certain. His wound was
 
 288 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 on fire, every nerve of his body laid bare. His 
 will to do began and ended with wanting to hold 
 that horse s head close. He was as a child, 
 stripped of every effect that the experiences of his 
 life could have had. He was weak, broken, 
 unwittingly searching for a way back to strength. 
 
 He turned his head halfway and beheld the 
 man stooping beside him who held in his hands 
 a bottle, uncorked, and from it came a strong 
 odor. 
 
 The boy dilated his nostrils and drew great 
 breaths laden with the fumes of the stuff. A 
 new life came into his eyes. They shone, they 
 sparkled. Activity came to those bare nerves, 
 and they raised their demands. 
 
 He opened his mouth and let the odor he in 
 haled play across that place in his throat. The 
 smell went on out through his arteries, through 
 his veins, along the nerves to the ends of his 
 being, to the core of his soul! He was down, 
 down in the depths, his very ego crying for the 
 stimulant, for something to help it come back. 
 
 He coaxed along that yearning, let it rise to 
 its fullest. Then he raised his eyes to meet the 
 concerned gaze of the other man. And the man 
 saw in those eyes a look that made him sway 
 back, that made him open his lips in surprise. 
 
 "To hell with that stuff!" the boy screamed. 
 "To hell with it! To hell to hell! It belongs 
 there! It it killed the Captain!" 
 
 Tears came with the sobs, and strength to
 
 VICTORY 289 
 
 the arms that held the stallion s head; strength 
 that surged through his entire body, stilling those 
 nerves, throttling the crying of his throat. For 
 VB had gone down to his test, his real ordeal, 
 and had found himself not wanting. 
 
 19
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 "THE LIGHT!" 
 
 JED AVERY sat alone. It was night, a 
 moonlight night in Colorado, the whole 
 world bathed in a cold radiance that conduces 
 to dreams and fantasies. 
 
 But as he sat alone Jed s mind wove no light 
 reveries. Far from it, indeed. He was sodden 
 in spirit, weakened in nerve. 
 
 He rested his body on the edge of a chair seat 
 and leaned far forward, elbows on his knees. 
 His fingers twined continually, and on occasion 
 one fist hammered the palm of the other hand. 
 
 "You old fool!" he whispered. "You old 
 fool! Now, if he s gone " 
 
 For twenty-four hours he had not dared frame 
 the words. 
 
 He lifted his eyes to the window, and against 
 the moonlight stood a bottle, its outlines dis 
 torted by incrustings of tallow. No candle was 
 in its neck. There was only the bottle. 
 
 After a time the old man got up and paced the 
 floor, three steps each way from the splotch of 
 moonlight that came through the window. He 
 had been walking that way for a night and a day 
 and now it was another night. 
 
 While it was daylight he had walked outside, 
 
 290
 
 "THE LIGHT!" 291 
 
 eyes ever on the road, hoping, fearing. And no 
 one had come! Now, as the night wore on and 
 the boy did not return, Jed s condition bordered 
 on distraction. 
 
 His pacing became faster and more fast. He 
 lengthened the limits of his walk to those of the 
 room, and finally in desperation jerked open the 
 door to walk outside. 
 
 But he did not leave the threshold. Two 
 figures, a man and a horse, coming up the road 
 held him as though robbed of the will to move. 
 He stood and stared, breathing irregularly. The 
 man, who walked ahead, made his way slowly 
 toward the gate. He was followed by the horse, 
 followed as a dog might follow, for not so much 
 as a strap was on the animal. The man s move 
 ments were painful, those of the horse deliberate. 
 
 Jed knew both those figures too well to be mis 
 taken, even though his sight dimmed. 
 
 He wanted to cry out, but dared not. One 
 question alone crowded to get past his teeth. 
 The answer would mean supremest joy or sorrow. 
 Fear of the latter held him mute. 
 
 The man unfastened the gate and let it swing 
 open. "Come, boy," he said gently, and the big 
 animal stepped inside. 
 
 With the same slow movements again, the man 
 closed the bars. 
 
 Jed stood silent. A coyote high on the hills 
 lifted his voice in a thin yapping, and the sound 
 made Old VB shiver.
 
 2 Q2 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 The boy came slowly toward the house. He 
 saw Jed, but gave no sign, nor did the old man 
 move. He stood there, eyes on the other in a 
 misted stare, and VB stopped before him, putting 
 a hand against the wall for support. 
 
 Then came the question, popping its way 
 through unwilling, tight lips: 
 
 "Shall I light th candle, Young VB?" 
 
 His voice was shrill, strained, vibrant with 
 anxiety. But VB did not answer merely lifted 
 a hand to his hot head. 
 
 "VB, when you left last night th candle 
 dropped down into th bottle an went out. 
 I did n t dare light a new one to-night - His 
 voice broke, and he paused a moment. "I 
 did n t dare light it until I knowed. I ve been 
 settin in th dark here, thinkin things tryin 
 not to think dark things." 
 
 One hand went halfway to his mouth in fear 
 as he waited for the other to answer. VB put 
 a hand on Jed s shoulder, and the old man clamped 
 his cold fingers over it desperately. 
 
 "Yes, Jed light it," he said huskily. Then 
 he raised his head and looked at the old man with 
 a half smile. "Light it, Jed. Let it burn on 
 and on, just for the sake of being bright. But we 
 we don t need it any more. Not for the old 
 reason, Jed." 
 
 The cold hand twitched as it gripped the hot one. 
 
 "Not for the old reason, Jed," VB continued. 
 "There s a bigger, better, truer light burning
 
 "THE LIGHT!" 293 
 
 now. It won t slip into the bottle; it can t be 
 blown out. It did n t waver when the true crisis 
 came. It ll always burn; it won t slip down into 
 the bottle. It s it s the real thing." 
 
 He staggered forward, and Jed caught him, 
 sobbing like a woman, a happy woman. 
 
 They had the whole story over then by the 
 light of a fresh candle. 
 
 When Jed started forward with a cry at the 
 recital of the shooting VB pushed him off. 
 
 " It s only a flesh wound ; it don t matter - 
 much. Mrs. Worth dressed it, and I m all right. 
 It s the Captain I want to tell about the 
 Captain, Jed!" 
 
 And he told it all, in short, choking sentences, 
 stripping his soul naked for the little rancher. 
 He did not spare himself, not one lone lash. He 
 ended, crushed and bleeding before the eyes of 
 his friend. After a pause he straightened back 
 in his chair, the new fire in his eyes, the fire the 
 man at Worth s had seen when he offered drink. 
 
 "But I ve got to make it up to the Captain 
 now," he said with a wild little laugh. "I ve got 
 to go on. He gave me the chance. He took me 
 into blackness, into the test I needed, and brought 
 me back to light. I ve got to be a man, Jed - 
 a man " 
 
 And throughout the night Jed Avery tended 
 the wound and watched and muttered with 
 joy in his heart.
 
 294 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 Morning came, with quieted nerves for VB. 
 He lay in the bunk, weak, immobile. 
 
 Jed came in from tending the horses. 
 
 "He didn t bleed, did he, VB?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "It ain t what you thought, sonny. It ain t 
 bad. Give him a rest an he ll be better n ever. 
 Why, he s out there now, head up, whisperin 
 for you! You can t break a spirit like his unless 
 you tear his vitals out ! " 
 
 VB smiled, and the smile swelled to a laugh. 
 
 "Oh, Jed, it makes me so happy! But it 
 won t be as it was. I can never let him carry 
 me again." 
 
 The old man turned on the boy a puzzled look. 
 
 "What you goin to do with him, VB turn 
 him loose again?" 
 
 "Not that, Jed; he would n t be happy. He ll 
 never carry me again, but perhaps perhaps he 
 could carry a light rider a girl a woman." 
 
 And from Jed: "Oh-o-o-o!" 
 
 An interval of silence. 
 
 "That is," muttered VB, "if she ll take him, 
 and" 
 
 "Would you want him away from you?" the 
 old man insisted. 
 
 "Oh, I hope it won t be that, Jed! I hope 
 not but I want her to You understand. 
 Jed? You understand?" 
 
 The other nodded his head, a look of grave 
 tenderness in the old eyes.
 
 "THE LIGHT!" 295 
 
 "Then then, Jed, I m all right. I can get 
 along alone. Would you mind riding over and 
 asking her if she d come 
 
 You see, Jed, I know now. I did n t before 
 I m sure it s worth the candle and there 11 be 
 no more darkness; no lasting night for her if " 
 
 Jed walked slowly out into the other room and 
 picked up his spurs. VB heard him strap them 
 on, heard his boots stamp across the floor and 
 stop. 
 
 "I d go, VB, but it ain t necessary." 
 
 The boy raised his head, and to his ears came 
 the bellow of a high-powered motor, the sound 
 growing more distinct with each passing second. 
 
 "Lord, how that woman s drivin !" Jed cried. 
 "Lordy!" And he ran from the house. 
 
 The bellow of the motor rose to a sound like 
 batteries of Catlings in action; then came the 
 wail of brakes. 
 
 With a pulsing thrill VB heard her voice up 
 raised with such a thrill that he did not catch 
 the dread in her tone as she questioned Jed. 
 
 She came to him swiftly, eyes dimmed with 
 tears, without words, and knelt by his bunk, 
 hands clasped about his head. For many minutes 
 they were so, VB gripping her fine, firm forearms. 
 Then she raised her face high. 
 
 "And you wouldn t let me help?" she asked 
 querulously. 
 
 He looked at her long and soberly, and took 
 both her hands in his.
 
 2 9 6 _! CONQUERED" 
 
 "It was the one place you couldn t help," he 
 muttered. "It was that sort my love, I 
 mean. I had to know; had to know that I 
 would n t put a hateful mark on you by loving. 
 I had to know that. Don t you see?" 
 
 She moved closer and came between him and 
 the sunshine that poured through the open door. 
 The glorious light was caught by her hair and 
 thrown, it seemed, to the veriest corners of the 
 dingy little room. 
 
 "The light!" he cried. 
 
 She settled against him, her lips on his, and 
 clung so. From outside came the shrilling call 
 of the Captain. VB crushed her closer.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 To THE VICTOR 
 
 T IP the flagged walk to the house of chill, 
 ^ white stone overlooking the North River 
 went a messenger, and through the imposing front 
 portal he handed a letter, hidden away in a sheaf 
 of others. A modest-appearing letter; indeed, 
 perhaps something less than modest; possibly 
 humble, for its corners were crumpled and its 
 edges frayed. Yet, of all the packages handed 
 him, Daniel Lenox, alone at his breakfast, 
 singled it out for the earliest attention. 
 And what he read was this: 
 
 DEAR FATHER: 
 
 In my last letter written ten years ago, it seems 
 I promised to tell you my whereabouts when I had 
 achieved certain ends. I now write to tell you that 
 I am at the Thorpe Ranch, one hundred and thirty 
 miles northwest of Colt, Colorado, the nearest railroad 
 point. 
 
 I can inform you of this now because I have won 
 my fight against the thing which would have stripped 
 me of my manhood. And I want to make clear the 
 point that it was you, father, who showed me the way, 
 who made me realize to what depths I had gone. 
 
 I am very humble, for I know the powers that rule 
 men. 
 
 When I left New York there was little in me to 
 
 297
 
 298 "I CONQUERED" 
 
 interest you, but I am making bold enough to tell you 
 of the greatest thing in my life. I have won the love 
 of a good woman. We are to be married here the 
 twentieth, and some day I will want to bring her East 
 with me. I hope you will want to see her. 
 
 Your son, 
 
 DANNY. 
 
 While the hand of the big clock made a quarter 
 circle the man sat inert in his chair; limp, weak 
 in body, spirit, and mind, whipped by the bitterest 
 lashes that human mind can conjure. Then he 
 raised his chin from his breast and rested his head 
 against the back of the chair, while his hands hung 
 loose at his sides. 
 
 His lips moved. "Hope you will want to 
 see her," he repeated in a whisper. 
 
 A pause, and again words: 
 
 "He would n t even ask me would n t dream 
 I wanted to be there!" 
 
 An old man, you would have said, old and 
 broken. The snap, the precision that had been 
 his outstanding characteristic, was gone. But 
 not for long. The change came before the 
 whispering had well died; the lines of purpose, 
 of decision, returned to his face, his arms ceased 
 to hang limp, the look in the eyes none the 
 less warm became definite, focused. 
 
 Suddenly Daniel Lenox sat erect and raised 
 the letter to the light once more. 
 
 "The twentieth!" he muttered. "And this 
 is" 
 
 Another train fumed at the distances, left
 
 TO THE VICTOR 299 
 
 cities behind, and crawled on across prairies to 
 mountain ranges. As it progressed, dispatchers, 
 one after another, sat farther forward in their 
 chairs and the alert keenness of their expression 
 grew a trifle sharper. For the Lenox Special, 
 New York to Colt, Colorado, invited disaster with 
 every mile of its frantic rush across country. 
 Freights, passenger trains, even the widely 
 advertised limiteds, edged off the tracks to let it 
 shriek on unhampered. 
 
 In the swaying private car sat the man who 
 had caused all this disarray of otherwise neat 
 schedules. At regular, short intervals his hand 
 traveled to watch-pocket and his blue eyes 
 scrutinized the dial of his timepiece as though 
 to detect a lie in the sharp, frank characters. In 
 the other hand, much of the time, were held 
 sheets of limp paper. They had been folded and 
 smoothed out again so many times and, though 
 he was an old man and one who thought mostly 
 in figures, fondled so much, that the ink on them 
 was all but obliterated in places. 
 
 He read and reread what was written there as 
 the train tore over the miles, and as he read the 
 great warmth came back to his eyes. With 
 it, at times, a fear came. When fear was there, 
 he tugged at his watch again. 
 
 Up grades, through canons, the special roared 
 its way. At every stop telegrams zitted ahead, 
 and hours before the train was due an automobile 
 waited by the depot platform at Colt.
 
 3 oo "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 Daniel Lenox heeded not the enthusiastic train 
 men who held watches and calculated the broken 
 record as brakes screamed down and the race by 
 rail ended. Bag in hand, he strode across the 
 cinder platform and entered the waiting auto 
 mobile, without a single glance for the group that 
 looked at him wonderingly. 
 
 "You know the way to the Thorpe Ranch?" 
 he asked the driver of the car. 
 
 "Like a book!" 
 
 "Can you drive all night?" 
 
 "I can." 
 
 "Good! We must be there as early to-morrow 
 as possible." 
 
 And ten minutes before noon the next day the 
 heavy-eyed driver threw out his clutch and slowed 
 the car to a stop before the S Bar S ranch house. 
 Saddled horses were there, a score of them stand 
 ing with bridle reins down. Sounds of lifted 
 voices came from the house, quickly lulled as an 
 exclamation turned attention on the arrival. 
 
 From the ample door came a figure tall and 
 lean, well poised, shoulders square, feet firm on the 
 ground. Pale, true, but surely returning strength 
 was evidenced in his very bearing. VB s lips 
 moved. His father, halfway to him, stopped. 
 
 "Dad!" 
 
 "Am I on time?" queried the older man. 
 
 "Dadl" 
 
 With a cry the boy was up on him, grasping 
 both hands in his.
 
 TO THE VICTOR 301 
 
 "I didn t dare hope you d want Dad, 
 it makes me so 
 
 The other looked almost fiercely into the boy s 
 face, clinging to the hands that clutched his, 
 shaking them tremblingly now and then. The 
 penetrating blue eyes searched out ever}r line 
 in the boy s countenance, and the look in them 
 grew to be such as VB had never seen before. 
 
 "Did you think I d stay back there in New 
 York and let you do all this alone? Did you 
 think I would n t come on, in time if I could, and 
 tell you how ashamed I am to have ever doubted 
 you, my own blood, how mean a thing was that 
 which I thought was faith?" 
 
 His gaze went from VB to Gail, coming toward 
 him clad all in simple white, flushing slightly as 
 she extended her hand. He turned to her, took 
 the hand, and looked deep into her big eyes. 
 He tried to speak, but words would not come and 
 he shook his head to drive back the choking 
 emotion. 
 
 "Bless you!" he finally muttered. "Bless 
 you both. You re a man Danny. And 
 you " 
 
 His voice failed again and he could only remain 
 mute, stroking the girl s hand. 
 
 Then Jed came up and greeted the newcomer 
 silently, a bit grimly, as though he had just for 
 given him something. 
 
 "Come over here, you thi^e," said VB, and 
 led them over to where two horses stood together
 
 302 "_I CONQUERED" 
 
 One was the bay the boy had ridden that after 
 noon he charged down the ridge to make the 
 great stallion his, and beside him, towering, head 
 up, alert, regally self-conscious, stood the Cap 
 tain. The bay bore VB s saddle. On the Cap 
 tain s back perched one of smaller tree, silver 
 mounted and hand tooled, with stirrups that were 
 much too short for a man. 
 
 They looked the great horse over silently, 
 moving about him slowly, and Danny pointed out 
 his fine physical qualities to his father. A rattling 
 of wheels attracted them and they looked up to 
 see a team of free-stepping horses swing toward 
 them, drawing a light buckboard. The vehicle 
 stopped and from it stepped a man in the clothing 
 of a clergyman. 
 
 " He s here, VB , " Jed muttered. " To be sure, 
 an he s got his rope down, too. Th iron s hot; 
 th corral gate s open and he s goin to head you 
 in. T ain t often you see such a pair of high- 
 strung critters goin in so plumb docile, Mister 
 Lenox!" 
 
 And from the corner of his eye he saw the man 
 beside him wipe his hand across his cheek, as 
 though to brush something away. 
 
 The Captain pawed the ground sharply. Then 
 he lifted his head high, drew a great breath, and 
 peered steadily off toward the distant ridges, 
 eagerly, confidently, as though he knew that much 
 waited out yonder.
 
 
 CALIFORNIA WESTERN UNIVERSITY 
 RYAN LIBRARY
 
 1