' 
 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 By FORRESTINE C. HOOKER 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 Publishers New York 
 
 Published by arrangement with Alfred A. Knopf 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY 
 FORRESTINE COOPER HOOKER 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATICS OF AMERICA 
 
LOVINGLY DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 MY FATHER, 
 
 BRIGADIER-GENERAL CHARLES L. COOPER, U. S. A. 
 
 MY BROTHER, MAJOR HARRY L. COOPER, U. S. A. 
 
 AND 
 MY UNCLE, CAPTAIN LOUIS R. CHESTER. U. S. N. 
 
 OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN. 
 WITHOUT FEAR AND WITHOUT REPROACH 
 
 F. C. H. 
 
 75 
 
PABT ONE 
 
CHAPTER ONE 
 
 "T^VERYTIIING all right, Limber?" asked Allan 
 |-J Traynor, boss of the Diamond II ranch, as a 
 
 J| J cowboy with jingling spurs reined his pony be- 
 fore the closed gates of the corral. 
 
 Doctor Powell, standing beside Traynor, scrutinized the 
 rider, whose broad-brimmed Stetson, caught by the wind, 
 fiapped from his face, exposing the sun-brown skin, firm 
 chin and grey eyes. It needed no student of psychology 
 to decide that Limber was not a man who would flinch 
 when facing a six-shooter held by a rustler. 
 
 The cowboy nodded answer to Traynor 's query. Lim- 
 ber's eyes scanned the herd, then, satisfied, he leaned across 
 the neck of his pinto pony, and said, "Paddy Lafferty 
 wants to sell out." 
 
 "Who told you?" Traynor spoke with undisguised sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Dillon. Paddy tol' him he was gettin' too old, that 
 the rheumatiz is botherin' again, an' he's goin' to quit 
 because he won't trust no one to run his herd when he 
 can't get 'round to it hisself." 
 
 "Did Paddy say how much he wanted?" 
 
 "Nope," was the laconic reply. "I'll find out. It's a 
 mighty good bunch of stuff. Lots of three-year steers, an' 
 thar ain't many three-year-olds left in these parts, now." 
 
 "It's worth looking up," commented Traynor. "I'm 
 glad you spoke of it. How soon will you be ready to hit 
 the trail?" 
 
 " 'Bout ten minutes." 
 
 "Keep the boys out of mischief this trip, if you can." 
 
 There was a twinkle in Traynor 's eyes that was reflected 
 in the grey ones of the cowboy, who said soberly, "I'll do 
 
 9 
 
10 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 my best. But when they get to mixin' in things they're 
 slipperier than a bunch of quicksilver. You think you got 
 hold of it and you find you ain't." 
 
 Limber turned his pony toward the corrals, twisting in 
 his saddle as Traynor called after him, "Tell some one to 
 saddle my pony and Doctor Powell's. Well ride out with 
 you." 
 
 As the cowboy disappeared, Traynor s#id, "It will give 
 you a faint idea of the work. You'll find it mighty dif- 
 ferent from the cowpuncher's life of moving pictures." 
 
 The doctor laughed. "I feel like a small boy about to 
 wriggle under the canvas of a circus tent. I never dreamed 
 that Arizona was such a wonderland." 
 
 The eyes of the two men swept across the Sulphur 
 Spring Valley that undulated twenty miles from the Gali- 
 uro Mountains on the west to the Grahams on the east; 
 starting sixty miles north of the Diamond II in the narrow 
 Aravaipa Canon, it gradually broadened into a great 
 plain that terminated at the Mexican border. 
 
 "Of course," continued the doctor, "I had a vague idea 
 of its mineral wealth and cattle interests, but I must con- 
 fess that until I reached here the name of Arizona con- 
 jured visions of burning desert, Gila monsters, rattlesnakes, 
 horn-toads and Apaches. Even when I stepped from the 
 train and met you, the impression of a 'No-Man's Land' 
 was strong upon me. Yet now that I have been here a 
 month I feel as though I shall never want to leave it." 
 
 "You can make sure of that," retorted Traynor, "if 
 you will go to the Hasayampa River, kneel on the brink 
 and drink of the water. You must be very careful, though, 
 to kneel above the crossing. This will keep you from ever 
 wishing to leave Arizona and you will receive the gift of 
 absolute truthfulness; but, should you drink while kneel- 
 ing below the crossing, truth and you will be divorced the 
 balance of your life." 
 
 "Did you drink below the crossing or above?" chal- 
 lenged the doctor with an amused smile. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 11 
 
 11 There is only one case on record where a man acknowl- 
 edged that he drank the water below the crossing. His 
 name was Ilasayampa Bill. He died a year ago. Hasa- 
 yampa Bill was a victim of circumstances, not intention. 
 He said that he was drinking above the crossing when 
 he lost his balance and fell into the stream which carried 
 him far below. Though Ilasayampa swore solemnly that 
 he kept his mouth shut — for the first time on record — his 
 reputation was thoroughly established. A letter addressed 
 to the 'Biggest Liar in Arizona' was accorded him by popu- 
 lar vote." 
 
 The doctor was about to reply, when the air was filled 
 with ear-splitting whistles and staccato cries. Then the 
 big gates of the corral swung open, and an avalanche of 
 cattle tumbled madly through and headed in a wild rush 
 down the road that led south toward Willcox — excited bel- 
 lows and plaintive lowing of calves seeking their mothers, 
 mingled with the voices of invisible men, completely obliter- 
 ated by the clouds of alkali dust. 
 
 Traynor led the way into the stable where two saddled 
 ponies twisted nervously. The men looked at each other 
 and smiled as the doctor approached the pinto pony. Its 
 eyes showed whites, its ears went back. It sheered 
 nervously, but Powell gained the saddle and, with Traynor 
 close beside him, they reached the moving herd. 
 
 Through the haze of dust a shadowy rider would loom 
 momentarily, then disappear. Traynor rode on the outer 
 edge of the herd. Doctor Powell became aware that Lim- 
 ber had materialized at his side, and forgot everything else 
 in his admiration of the cowpuncher's unconscious grace 
 as his lithe, swaying figure adjusted itself to each move- 
 ment of the wiry, dancing pony. 
 
 "Head off that buckskin," shouted Limber, rising in his 
 stirrups and waving his quirt at a cow that was making 
 a wild dash for freedom. 
 
 Bronco's pony emerged from the haze and tore madly 
 after the cow, reaching her side just as she made up her 
 
12 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 bovine mind that she had no intention of deserting. Her 
 expression of injured innocence as she ambled quietly back 
 roused Doctor Powell's mirth and Bronco's ire. 
 
 The cowpuncher reined his pony beside Powell's, mut- 
 tering imprecations that finally ended in a verbal explo- 
 sion. 
 
 "Durn her! Whenever you turn an old buckskin cow 
 like that loose in the herd it's as bad as sickin' a mother- 
 in-law on a happy family. She won't rest till she gets 
 'em millin' and stampedes everything in sight, and then 
 she picks up her knittin' and looks innercent and says she 
 never allowed to start notion* noways! Gee! I wish I 
 could strike a ranch where there warn't nothin' but steers. 
 The minute you mix up with a female critter, cow or pet- 
 ticoats, you're roundin' up trouble for yourself and lots 
 of others." 
 
 He paused long enough to jerk out a sack of tobacco 
 and cigarette papers, letting the reins fall on his pony's 
 neck as he glared at the cow. She was slowly dropping to 
 the rear of the herd, but Bronco and his pony did not relax 
 their vigilance. 
 
 "Mebbe you thought I didn't know you, you old buck- 
 skin bag o' bones," apostrophized Bronco. "I'd know 
 that derned twisted horn if I was dead twenty years!" 
 
 Holy Dick galloped up, grining broadly. 
 
 "Hello, Bronc! Ain't that your ol' buckskin friend?" 
 
 Bronco snorted. "Yep! An' you bet she's goin' to 
 keep movin' until she's loaded in the car and headed for 
 trouble somewhar else. Arizona ain't big enough to hold 
 her an' me. " 
 
 Holy rode off, turning in his saddle and screaming in a 
 shrill nasal whine that he fondly imagined was singing: 
 
 " 'Tis ye-a-a-rs since las-s-s-st we-e-ee met 
 An' we ma-a-aa-ay not me-ee-et agin. 
 1 stru-ug-gle to-o-oo forgit 
 But I stru-ug-g-g-gg-g-11-l-ll-le aa-aal in va-aa-a-in." 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 13 
 
 Holy's pony contributed to the tremolo effect by its 
 tfnort, nervous trot. 
 
 "I'm glad she's a gittin' offen the range," soliloquized 
 Bronco, "but I'll always be sorry we didn't butcher her on 
 the ranch so's I could help chaw her up. If ever I get to 
 Heaven all I'll ask is to eat buckskin cows for everlastin'." 
 
 As he uttered the last words Bronco raced ahead, leav- 
 ing Doctor Powell at liberty to laugh and wonder what 
 the mystery of the buckskin hoodoo might be. Then his 
 eyes wandered from the dust-cloud ahead of him to the 
 purple-blue peaks that reached thousands of feet upward 
 as if striving to pierce the brilliant sky; across the valley, 
 clumps of greyish brown saccaton grass, slender tufts of 
 waving gietta interspersed by tall spikes of Spanish Dag- 
 ger formed a typical Arizona landscape. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of it?" asked Traynor, riding 
 up to him. 
 
 Powell's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "It's a won- 
 derful country! How far away is Hasayampa River? 
 I'm ready to start now for that drink!" 
 
 They laughed together as their ponies' heads were 
 reined toward the ranch, but Powell could not resist a 
 backward glance at the herd which had now settled down 
 1 o a steady amble. The sunlight filtering through the dust 
 formed a golden mist in which the cowpunchers and their 
 ponies were dimly silhouetted. 
 
 "Of course there are annoyances, unpleasant people to 
 encounter at times, bad seasons to offset the good ones," — 
 Traynor deftly rolled a cigarette with his right hand as 
 he spoke, his left resting lightly on the high pommel of 
 his saddle. "Taking it all in all, though, when I ride 
 across the valley or reach a high peak and look down 
 where thousands of cattle graze undisturbed by the in- 
 roads of civilization, I feel it is a royal heritage. Do you 
 think I would barter it, like Esau, even though my menu 
 might read, 'Pottage a la champagne and truffles'?" 
 
14 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "Is the role of Prodigal Son necessary to qualify for a 
 fatted calf in Arizona?" queried Powell. "I'm as hun- 
 gry as the proverbial bear. Oh, that reminds me. Bronco 
 was bewailing the fact that a certain buckskin cow had not 
 been butchered at the ranch. He seems a bit sensitive 
 regarding buckskins. What's the trouble?" 
 
 Traynor's mouth twitched as he answered, "Ask him. 
 It's too good a story for any one else to spoil in the telling." 
 
 They reached the stables and left the ponies with the 
 Mexican stableman. As they entered the large court-yard 
 which formed the center of the house, they were greeted 
 by the welcome sound of the lunch bell and Pong, in im- 
 maculate white and with neatly coiled queue, smiled 
 amiably from the dining room door. 
 
 After lunch the two men sat smoking and chatting in the 
 deep porch between the dining room and living room, 
 where easy chairs, a hammock, a table littered with news- 
 papers and magazines, tempted one to loiter. The stable 
 boy interrupted them, speaking in Mexican, and Traynor 
 explained that there was some trouble with the acetelyn 
 plant. 
 
 "I always take care of that myself, and unless I do so 
 we will have to resort to coal-oil lamps. I'll be back 
 shortly. Make yourself comfortable. ' ' 
 
 Powell leaned back lazily in his chair, trying to reconcile 
 Traynor who had just spoken with the Traynor he once 
 knew ; a young chap fresh from college, unlucky enough to 
 lose his last remaining relative at the same time he inher- 
 ited a fairly good-sized fortune. 
 
 It had been the usual story of "wild oats." Then Tray- 
 nor's revulsion had been complete, though not in time to 
 avoid a quarrel with the girl to whom he was engaged. 
 Exaggerated stories of various episodes, exploited by a 
 Sunday paper, caused her to return his ring and refuse 
 absolutely to see him or listen to his explanations. 
 
 Traynor thrashed the reporter, paid a heavy fine for 
 that privilege and started on a trip West with no definite 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 15 
 
 idea except to get as far as possible from a place filled 
 with bitter memories. 
 
 During the journey he met a young army officer re- 
 turning from leave of absence, and the lieutenant's invi- 
 tation to visit Fort Grant had been accepted by Traynor. 
 Some months later Traynor, disposing of all his Eastern 
 interests, had purchased the Diamond H ranch, the owner 
 of which had recently died. 
 
 In the seven years after this purchase, Cuthbert Powell 
 was the only one of Traynor 's former acquaintances who 
 ever heard from the young rancher. Powell had promised 
 to visit the ranch, but not until now had that promise 
 been fulfilled. It was not easy to recognize the tanned, 
 alert chap who grasped his hands as he alighted from the 
 Pullman. As days went by, it was a constant source of 
 surprise to the doctor to note that the mental change in 
 his friend was more marked than the physical. It was as 
 though the breadth and strength' of the country had been 
 absorbed by the owner of the 4< Diamond H. M 
 
 Traynor returned and slipped into the chair he had 
 vacated. 
 
 "You see, on a ranch one becomes blacksmith, veterin- 
 arian, doctor, cowpuncher, carpenter, farmer — . In fact, 
 a veritable jack of all trades. No one cares what your 
 family is, how much money you own or what your social 
 status elsewhere, past, present or future, may be. It is 
 yourself that is judged. There is no court of appeal if you 
 are condemned. You've got to look a man in the eyes, 
 grip his hand as a comrade, shoot as quickly as the other 
 chap, roll in your blanket and take any weather that comes, 
 without growling. If you can do these things the life 
 will suit you and the vastness of the place sinks into your 
 soul. It mends one's broken faith in humanity." 
 
 Powell, watching his friend, saw the lines about his 
 mouth harden and knew that the memory of the past was 
 burning like a corroding acid. Then the mood passed and 
 Traynor turned with a half-smile. 
 
16 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "Well, what do you think of your first experience as a 
 cowhand ?" 
 
 "I'm thankful that I knew how to ride before I came 
 here," laughed Powell. "That was rather a gay little nag 
 I had this morning." 
 
 "That animal's name is Hot Tamale. The boys wanted 
 to try you out a bit. I knew you could take care of your- 
 self, so did not say anything. The joke is on them now; 
 but you have won their respect and will be free from 
 other pranks." 
 
 "I think I'll insist on riding Hot Tamale hereafter," 
 asserted Powell. "By the way, when Limber spoke to you 
 about that bunch of cattle, I thought I would like to buy 
 them, provided you, yourself, did not intend to do so. Of 
 course, I realize that I am a tenderfoot, ignorant of the 
 first rudiments of the cattle business, but what would you 
 advise about my locating in this section?" 
 
 "It would be a good move," responded Traynor. 
 "Paddy's range lies between my own and the Hot Springs 
 country across the Galiuros. He has permanent water, 
 which is a gold mine, especially during a dry season. The 
 mountains between here and Hot Springs are rich in feed, 
 so Paddy's cattle work that way." He puffed silently on 
 his cigar for a few seconds, then turned suddenly to 
 Powell. "Look here, Cuthbert, if you are really serious 
 about locating in this section, why don't you get in touch 
 with Doctor King who owns the Hot Springs ? The place 
 would interest you professionally, for the water comes out 
 of solid rock at a temperature of 140 degrees and is the 
 purest water I have ever tasted. It is noted in the Ter- 
 ritory as a cure for various complaints." 
 
 "I would certainly like to see it," answered the doctor 
 enthusiastically, "if you can arrange it for me." 
 
 "King only held Squatter's Right until recently. Un- 
 der that, the possessor loses title unless he stays on the 
 ground. It is not under government survey yet, so could 
 not be patented like surveyed land. I advised King to 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 17 
 
 patent it under Indian Script and make his title secure. 
 He has just done this. King has been hoping to erect a 
 sanitarium at the Springs, but lack of funds, and his flat 
 refusal to consider anyone as a partner except a resident 
 physician able to finance the plans, has blocked his scheme.' ' 
 
 "It might appeal to him to let me carry out my own 
 idea of establishing a sanitarium for tubercular children 
 in Arizona. I don't mean wealthy invalids, attended by a 
 retinue of nurses and other impedimenta, but poor children 
 who otherwise would have no hope of health. The climate, 
 altitude and all conditions would be simply ideal. I 
 should like to talk to him myself." 
 
 "Do you know that you are setting forth the very ideas 
 that King discussed with me the last time I saw him? That 
 was, a place for poor, tubercular children. He loves every 
 child that he sees. His own boy died at the age of six. 
 The mother died soon after. King gave me no details, 
 and I doubt whether anyone else besides myself, knows 
 this much. I fancy his thought was to make the place a 
 memorial to the boy he lost. ' ' 
 
 "It would be a splendid idea to carry out with such a 
 man!" exclaimed Powell, deeply moved. "How soon do 
 you think it could be arranged for me to meet him?" 
 
 "It's a waste of time to write. No one but King and a 
 family named Glendon live in that section. Mail lies at 
 the Willcox post-office until one or the other happens to 
 be in town. It's thirty-five miles from AVillcox to Hot 
 Springs, and twenty-four across the Galiuro trail from 
 here. "When Limber gets back, you and he could ride over 
 the mountains, have a look at the Springs and talk it over 
 with Doctor King. I feel very confident that you might 
 join forces." 
 
 "Fine!" ejaculated Powell. "Now, what about that 
 cattle deal?" 
 
 "You are determined to 'jump in with both feet' as the 
 boys would say," laughed Traynor. "However, it would 
 be wise to take that matter up as soon as possible. Paddy 
 
18 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 is a queer character, so you had better stay out of the deal 
 until I get it arranged with him. If you make the buy and 
 at any time wish to sell out, I will take the herd and 
 ranch at the same price you pay for it, so you will not run 
 any risk of being tied up here if you wish to leave. " 
 
 "I asked you to tell me how far it is to the Hasayampa 
 Kiver?" reminded the doctor. "Even if I do not indulge 
 in a drink from that historic stream, I am here to stay. ' ' 
 
 "You'll make good," asserted Traynor, heartily. "The 
 man who is a real man wins out here in the end, if he lets 
 whiskey and cards alone. Living on ranches, miles away 
 from civilization, one does not have the problem of women. 
 'Cherchez la femme' does not apply to this section of the 
 country, thank the good Lord! That's why this place 
 appealed most strongly to me. Unless I go to Willcox I 
 can forget there is such a creature as woman in the uni- 
 verse. ' ' 
 
 "All women are not the same, Allan," protested Powell, 
 placing his hand on Traynor 's arm and looking at him 
 earnestly. "I hope the right one will come into your life 
 some day. One who can appreciate you as you deserve, 
 and who will be big enough and fine enough to be a wife 
 in the best sense of the word. Why, man ! Think of the 
 pride and pleasure you would have in this place, knowing 
 that it was the heritage of your son!" 
 
 Traynor rose hastily, turned abruptly from his friend 
 and stood staring through the open door of the porch 
 across the wide pastures. His face was white when he 
 confronted Powell. 
 
 "What would you do if you found that the patient upon 
 whom you are operating has not succumbed to the anaes- 
 thetic, Cuthbert? Cut without pity?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Powell, "if it meant life or death to 
 waver or hesitate a second." 
 
 "I thought I was numb; that it would not hurt any 
 more ; but when you spoke of — a son — it cut into my heart. 
 I've tried to forget — it's like burying something that is 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 19 
 
 alive. In the night I hear its voice; I see its shadow even 
 in the darkness." 
 
 He rose and moved restlessly; his face white. "No one 
 knows what it meant to give her up. She believed those 
 damned reports and gave me no chance to prove the truth, 
 and I — , why — it would not have mattered of what she 
 was accused; the blackest charges proved against her, — I 
 would have held her and fought the world for her, inno- 
 cent or guilty. I believed she loved me as I loved her — 
 she refused to hear my story. ' ' 
 
 "Did she never know the truth?" asked Powell. 
 
 "Returned my ring, asked me to spare her the humilia- 
 tion of talking to me. Yet, after I came here, I wrote 
 telling her that the man in my automobile with that 
 woman, was not myself. You remember the newspapers 
 spared the woman's name. She had a husband and child — 
 eloping with that cad, Brunton. Cheap machine broke 
 down at two o'clock in the night. I recognized them. 
 Put 'em in my machine and told her to get back home 
 before it was too late. Oh, she was ready enough then 
 to be decent. Brunton took her to her door, then he went 
 to his place, but that fool reporter saw the number of the 
 machine, and wrote the story. You kuow it. Woman's 
 name kept out, my name not mentioned outright, but de- 
 scription sufficient to identify me beyond doubt. Couldn't 
 sue the paper, my lawyer said, and Brunton lit out for 
 Europe. Rotten mess all around. 
 
 "I wrote the full truth to Nell, begged a word from her 
 as a man dying of thirst begs for a drop of water. She 
 never answered the letter. A year later I wrote again, 
 and that one was returned unclaimed." 
 
 "You say that the second letter came back unclaimed," 
 spoke Powell, "but, you have no proof that the first one 
 ever reached her. Had you thought of that?" 
 
 "Yes. Both letters had my Arizona address on the en- 
 velope as well as inside. When I did not hear in reply 
 to the first letter, and it was not returned to me, I com- 
 
20 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 municated with the Dead Letter Office, but no such letter 
 had been turned over to that department. The only logical 
 conclusion was that she did not wish to answer." 
 
 The doctor made no comment. Traynor's reasoning was 
 too convincing for suggestions. 
 
 "Yet, I made a second effort," went on the boss of the 
 Diamond H. "After that, there was nothing more to do 
 but accept the situation. Now you know the truth, Cuth- 
 bert. No other woman will ever fill her place in my life, — 
 but, I cannot keep her out of my thoughts, day or night." 
 
 "I'm sorry I spoke, old man," answered the doctor. 
 
 "I'm glad you did," replied Traynor. "Now, you un- 
 derstand." 
 
 As the shadows lengthened on the prairie the two friends 
 smoked and spoke of other things. And yet — both Traynor 
 and Powell — and many another — had read with the care- 
 less glance of the unscathed, the account of a train wreck 
 in Kansas, in which the loss of life had been appalling, 
 and the loss of mail had not been mentioned. 
 
CHAPTER TWO 
 
 THE cattle that Powell and Traynor had watched 
 starting from the Diamond H, constituted the first 
 shipment of the season, contracted to an Eastern 
 buyer. Official inspection by the Live Stock Sanitary 
 Board was exacted, not only regarding the health of 
 shipped cattle, but also to protect cattlemen from rustlers 
 on the miles of open range. 
 
 After reaching Willcox, the boys of the Diamond II drove 
 the herd into the shipping pens beside the railroad track, 
 locked the gates and turned with joyous expectation to- 
 ward the main street of town. Limber parted from the 
 ethers a short distance from the corrals. 
 
 "I'll tell the inspector we'll be ready tomorrow mornin' 
 soon as the cars get in," he said, and without waiting re- 
 ply rode toward the part of town where the more pre- 
 tentious houses were bunched. 
 
 Like schoolboys out for a holiday, Bronco, Holy and 
 Roarer raced their ponies to the Cowboys' Rest Corral. 
 Here they were greeted vociferously by Buckboard Bill, who 
 had retired from driving a skeleton stage and established 
 the only place where horses or vehicles might be hired. 
 
 A few minutes elapsed before the three cowpunchers, 
 afoot, made their way along the street. Ponies standing 
 with dangling reins and hoofs buried fetlock deep in the 
 fine, white alkali sand in front of the stores, told that 
 many other cowpunchers from other ranches were in town. 
 The Diamond H boys quickly identified the owner of each 
 pony by its brand. 
 
 A row of irregular buildings, consisting of three stores, 
 a Chinese restaurant, several saloons and a hotel, formed 
 the principal street of Willcox. Facing the stores across 
 
 21 
 
22 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 the dusty expanse, lay the Southern Pacific depot which was 
 the heart of the town, while radiating from it east and 
 west, like great arteries, ran the steel tracks of the rail- 
 road. Pack burros, loaded with miners' supplies, shuf- 
 fled out on the road to Dos Cabezas. Many of these tiny 
 animals were animated woodpiles — only legs and wagging 
 ears visible from beneath a canopy of split wood destined 
 for a camp where fuel was not procurable, otherwise. The 
 only break in the grey monotone of the landscape was the 
 few cottonwood trees, planted by optimistic souls around 
 their dwelling places. 
 
 It was a typical frontier town of three hundred people, 
 two-thirds of whom were Mexicans speaking no English. 
 If, by chance, a stranger alighted from the " passenger " 
 train, the arrival of which was the most important event 
 of each day, the town, like a naughty child with dirty 
 face and torn clothes, looked the new-comer over critically. 
 If he met the inspection squarely, it held out a friendly 
 hand, and as long as he "played fair" that hand was 
 ready to fight for him and his. 
 
 The boys from the Diamond H sauntered leisurely along 
 the street, exchanging greetings with those they knew, 
 until, under their usual pretext of expecting mail, they 
 reached the combination store and post-office. It was an 
 important duty to ascertain beyond doubt whether any 
 letters were waiting to be claimed by Peter N. Hewland, 
 Dick Reynolds and Henry Jackson, who were thus able to 
 keep their legal identification. At all other times they 
 were known as Bronco Pete, Holy Dick, whose vocabulary 
 of cuss-words held the Arizona record, and Hell-roarer 
 Jack, with a gentle falsetto voice which under stress of 
 emotion became a tiny squeak. Convenience had cur- 
 tailed these names to Bronc, Holy and Roarer. 
 
 Having digested the information that no mail awaited 
 them, they entered into conversation. One could learn 
 the news of territory, county and nation in the post-office, 
 besides ascertaining what outfits were in town. Additional 
 
a: 
 
 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 23 
 
 attractions were found in the posters to be read, notices 
 of round-up work, advertisements of stolen horses or stray 
 cattle. 
 
 It was while browsing on such literature that Bronco 
 halted with mouth half-open and disbelieving eyes. He 
 read the hand-written notice deliberately to the end twice 
 before he turned to where Roarer and Holy were inspect- 
 ing silver-mounted spurs — which they did not need, but 
 intended to buy because they had to spend their money 
 someway. 
 
 "Say, boys, thar's goin' to be a ice-cream festival to- 
 night!" 
 
 "Shucks!" squeaked Roarer. "Try something else, 
 Bronc. You all know that thar ain't no ice any nearer 
 than Tucson. And nobody's fool enough to send ninety 
 miles and pay cut-throat rates for ice just to make ice- 
 cream, except a regular ijit." 
 
 The grin on Roarer's face and the faces of other by- 
 standers recalled Bronco's exploit of ordering ice from 
 Tucson, and reaching the Diamond H with nothing but a 
 wet blanket in the wagon. 
 
 Succumbing to the alluring display in a mail order cata- 
 logue, Bronco had bought an ice-cream freezer, declaring 
 he was going to get filled up on that delicacy for once in 
 his life — if it took three months' pay. The episode became 
 historic, and the freezer kindling wood. 
 
 If you don't believe me," challenged Bronco, "come 
 nd see for yourself! What's more, it says here, it's goin' 
 to be free with cake throwed in," he finished triumphantly. 
 
 Holy edged beside Bronco and peered over his shoulder. 
 "Perned if it ain't so," he acknowledged at last. "But, 
 mebbe that air paper's lyin'." 
 
 "What do you think of that?" ruminated Bronco, his 
 mouth watering in anticipation. "Ice-scream — and cake 
 throwed in free gratis for nothin'. Looks like some one's 
 struck it rich — turnin' all that loose on the range for 
 everybody to corral." 
 
24 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "I don't believe it," gloomily asserted Holy, who had 
 acted as escort for Bronco and the ice that failed. "You 
 can't get ice from Tucson so's thar'd be anything left un- 
 less you order a whole carload at onct." 
 
 "Well," retorted Bronco in self-defence, "it depends on 
 who's cartin' the ice. You would keep on cussin' all the 
 way to the ranch that time, Holy, an it's no wonder the 
 ice was all melted up. But, this yer ice is goin' to be 
 in the church and won't have its constitution tried so 
 hard." 
 
 Holy and Roarer looked at each other uncertainly. 
 They hungered for that ice-cream and cake ; but the neces- 
 sity of treading consecrated board floors made the matter 
 serious. 
 
 "I wonder if you've got to have 'em deal you a ticket 
 if you don't belong in the pasture?" speculated Bronco, 
 unable to tear himself from the vicinity of the poster. 
 "Say, Larry," he called to the store-keeper, "how about 
 this here ice-scream layout? Is it a bluff, or sure enough 
 free-for-all?" 
 
 * ' Sure enough, ' ' answered Larry. ' ' There 's a new min- 
 ister come to town and the women-folks have pitched in 
 and fixed this up so he can get acquainted with people. 
 You boys had better take it in. Every one's going to be 
 there. We're shutting up the stores at seven o'clock to- 
 night, so everybody can go." 
 
 "Say, Larry, did they sure enough get the ice here all 
 right?" questioned Holy doubtfully. 
 
 "They sure did! And that ice-cream and cake is way 
 up in G. Home-made, every bit of it. What's more, the 
 ladies went to the saloon-keepers and got them all to prom- 
 ise to shut up the saloons from seven till eleven tonight. 
 So every one's got to go to the Festival or else go home to 
 bed." 
 
 "I guess we're headed for the ice-scream, boys;" an- 
 nounced Bronco, and the others nodded acquiescence. 
 
 They filed out of the store and, after registering on the 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 25 
 
 empty page of the hotel book, received a key and mounted 
 the protesting stairs that ascended outside the hotel to the 
 upper rooms. 
 
 "While they were engaged in splashing soapy \t»ater over 
 faces and hands, brushing dusty coats and plastering down 
 anarchistic locks, Limber joined them and was informed 
 of the evening plans. 
 
 "Well, I'll see you over there," he promised. "I'm 
 goin' to supper now. Then I've got to have a talk with 
 Paddy Lafferty and find out what he's holdin' his herd 
 at." 
 
 He reached the door, paused and looked back quizzically. 
 "I reckon you boys '11 be all right tonight, seein' as how 
 you'll all be in church. So long." 
 
 After supper the three cowboys joined a stream of peo- 
 ple moving toward the church, where open doors emitted 
 rays of welcoming light. It was a medley of humanity 
 possible only in a frontier town. Women had resurrected 
 dresses more or less old in style, from the depths of swad- 
 dling sheets necessary to keep them from the dust of sand- 
 storms penetrating chests and trunks. Husbands, whose 
 "best suits" smelled of camphor, helped shoo small girls 
 in stiffly starched white dresses, tied with varied-coloured 
 sashes, and boys who twisted and squirmed uneasily under 
 the galling yoke of white collars and shirts. 
 
 Fortified with promises of ice-cream and cake, the young- 
 sters were distributed on a double row of chairs back of 
 the minister and facing the audience, where they had a 
 full view of the other victims. Many miners had wan- 
 dered into town for their usual Saturday-night and Sun- 
 day recreation, only to face the unprecedented situation of 
 the closed stores and saloons — learning that there was no 
 "balm in Gilead" from seven till eleven, for the first time 
 on record in the Territory, they headed voluntarily for 
 the church. Mexicans, whose own Catholic church was 
 only opened twice a year, when the Paclre came to marry 
 and baptize wholesale — and frequently married the par- 
 
26 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ents when he baptized the infant — rubbed elbows with 
 clerks from the stores, bartenders and prospectors. 
 
 Holy, Bronco and Roarer, with aimiable, though uneasy 
 grins, faced the pretty school-teacher, Miss Gordon, a re- 
 cent importation from San Francisco. She smiled sweetly 
 at them and held out a small, white hand, which Bronco 
 took hold of as gingerly as though it were a hot branding- 
 iron, and let it drop as quickly. Holy, not to be outdone, 
 extended his own horny hand, but Miss Gordon said, "I 
 have to ask for your pistols, please, until you are ready 
 to go. There are so many people here tonight we had to 
 make this rule.'' 
 
 In consternation that was almost paralysis, they stared 
 at her outstretched hand, then looked at her wheedling 
 smile. Reluctantly, half-bewildered, each man slowly 
 drew his beloved gun from the holster in which it reposed, 
 and helpless, watched her add it to the stack on a table 
 behind her. Then they looked at each other forlornly. 
 Still under the influence of that dazzling smile, they made 
 no resistance as Miss Gordon drove them forward. They 
 were as embarrassed as though stripped of more conven- 
 tional apparel than six-shooters, but they hoped the contor- 
 tions of their faces might be classed as happy smiles when 
 they saw they were expected to shake hands with the long, 
 rigid line of the Committee of Ladies which flanked the 
 minister. 
 
 As Limber entered the church, he saw his outfit run the 
 gauntlet of introductions, then they turned precipitately 
 with relieved countenances and slipped into chairs at the 
 centre of the room. Bronco advised this location. "Ice- 
 cream might give out if we get too fur back. Thar's a 
 lot of people here tonight." 
 
 A program followed in which the school children sang a 
 song, pitched in as many keys as there were voices. A reci- 
 tation by a boy of fourteen, starting in a megaphone voice, 
 and after the fifth line lapsing into a whisper, a gasp, si- 
 lence — a bobbing head — and ending in hasty exit. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 27 
 
 Next a five-year old carefully starched youngster gal- 
 loped breathlessly without a pause through a couple of 
 verses, exploiting her knowledge that she knew the audience 
 would be surprised that "one my age should speak in pub- 
 lic on the stage." The applause had hardly died when a 
 buxom lady with white kid slippers three sizes too small, 
 appropriated the piano. She arranged her toes on the 
 pedals, then wiggled her feet until the heels slid out. An 
 expression of beatitude adorned her face, her chubby hands 
 were lifted and came down on the tinkling keys. 
 
 The assaulted, helpless piano responded with the familiar 
 "Maiden's Prayer," while an apparition in a white lace 
 curtain materialized at the back door of the room, flopping 
 and twisting toward the spell-bound spectators. The num- 
 ber had been announced as an "Interpretative dance," and 
 Holy whispered cautiously to Bronco, "Is it an Apache 
 dance, or has she just tooken carbolic acid?" 
 
 1 ' Search me, ' ' was the response. ' ' Looks like a mixture 
 of both of 'em." 
 
 The dancer was agile and angular. She had the distinc- 
 tion of being the only old maid in the county. Her bare, 
 thin arms waved, gyrated, supplicated; her knees cracked 
 audibly several times, but her mind was far away. She 
 was mentally repeating the instructions she had studied so 
 carefully from a book entitled, "The Art of Classic Danc- 
 ing without a Teacher." Then with a last squirm, a con- 
 vulsive shudder, she flopped to the floor, and ended the 
 agony with one or two feeble kicks. 
 
 "It was a fit!" decided Bronco. "But it's the wust one 
 I ever seed anything have." 
 
 The last number on the program was a little, weazened 
 man with brilliant red hair, lighter red beard, faded blue 
 eyes, who had brought a small talking machine. With 
 stupendous dignity he wound it up, then stood with a new 
 record ready to immediately replace the one being 
 scratched out by the needle. The pile of records was 
 formidable and he was apparently determined to skip none, 
 
28 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 until the head committee lady gently, but firmly and dip- 
 lomatically, came to the rescue. 
 
 He bowed his appreciation of the tumultous applause, 
 assuming it was intended for him. It continued unabated. 
 He opened his mouth wide, to express his gratification at 
 the ovation accorded. The muscles of his face twitched, his 
 eyes stared wildly and as the audience leaned forward anx- 
 iously, a terrific sneeze smote the air and a set of false 
 teeth catapulted like a meteor in the midst of the audience. 
 
 A suppressed titter, a bobbing of bodies in the vicinity 
 of the teeth, and then one of the children, groping on the 
 floor, located the lost property and rose with a triumphant 
 squeal. 
 
 "I got 'em! M 
 
 The red-haired individual grasped the rescued property 
 with a smile that proved Nature may abhor a vacuum but 
 sometimes permits it to exist. The owner of the touring 
 teeth surveyed them, then nonchalantly popped them into 
 their accustomed place before he gathered up his records, 
 machine, and resumed his seat in the front row of the 
 audience, which directed its attention to the minister. 
 
 He was a tall, raw-boned man in long-tailed coat and the 
 white muslin tie needed a woman's touch, for one end had 
 escaped and hung like the tail of a kite, as he advanced to 
 the table on which stood a white pitcher, decorated with 
 brilliantly coloured fiow r ers; a part of the china set loaned 
 by one of the ladies, whose artistic soul scorned such trifles 
 as proportion, perspective or the mere "holding the mirror 
 up to Nature." 
 
 In a few words the minister expressed his delight at this 
 large gathering when he had expected a small one, and 
 thanked the dear ladies who had arranged the beautiful pro- 
 gram. Then he beamed graciously at the wiggling chil- 
 dren. 
 
 "I know these little ones are growing impatient, so will 
 only hold you long enough to relate an incident that re- 
 turned to my memory as I sat here tonight. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 29 
 
 "Many years ago I was travelling through an unsettled 
 Southern district, and passing a high, board fence heard 
 a child's voice praying. I stood up in my buggy and 
 locked over. I saw a little girl, a dog, a cat and a small 
 Jersey calf. I waited till her prayer ended, then asked, 
 'My dear, what are you doing?' 
 
 " 'I'm playing Sunday school,' she replied. 'Kitty and 
 Ponto and the calf are my Sunday-school scholars, and I'm 
 the preacher.' 
 
 "A few more words and I went on ray way, meditating 
 upon the beauty of the child's devotion. I did not happen 
 to return for nearly a year, but when I approached the 
 fence I paused and peered over. The child was there 
 alone. 
 
 " 'How is your Sunday-school getting along?' I asked. 
 She broke into sobs. 
 
 " 'Kitty and Ponto got to fighting something awful,' she 
 answered, 'and — ' 
 
 " 'And where is the calf?' I said. 
 
 " 'He got too big to come — unless I had a box of grain 
 for him to eat ! ' 
 
 "The story came back to me and I wondered how many 
 of you who are here tonight will get 'too big to come' to 
 services tomorrow morning?" 
 
 There were amused titters from many, guilty faces and 
 sidelong glances, but the tension was relieved by the next 
 words of the minister; "Now, we will enjoy the refresh- 
 ments so generously provided by our dear sisters!" 
 
 At the back of the room were three immense ice-cream 
 freezers. The committee, armed with heaping plates of 
 the frozen delicacy, flanked by generous slices of chocolate 
 layer cake, moved swiftly among the audience. Miss Jenk- 
 ins carried a large tray to the group formed by Holy, 
 Bronco and Roarer. 
 
 Their eyes appraised the huge heaps of tri-coloured 
 cream — chocolate, vanilla and strawberry, without a doubt. 
 Their hands were reaching to appropriate the plates when 
 
30 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Miss Jenkins, who had danced the Maiden's Prayer, lisped 
 affectedly, ''Won't you boys help me a tiny, tiny bit, 
 peath?" 
 
 She held out the tray and rolled her eyes pathetically. 
 "It's awfully heavy for poor little me, and there are so 
 many people to wait on. Won't you, peath, path it around 
 and when it's all gone I'll have some more ready for you 
 to therve." 
 
 Appalled they stared at her, as she continued her baby 
 appeal and kept the tray in front of them so there was no 
 possible retreat. The three reached out simultaneously. 
 By some slip the tray lowered a bit and Holy's hand went 
 into a cold, wet mess. With a half -choked oath he jerked 
 back — and the tray crashed to the floor. A scream rose 
 from the lady who had lent her hand-painted plates, and 
 in the confusion that followed the three cowpunchers 
 slipped out of the church obsessed with visions of a tri- 
 coloured milky way that wended between gobs of squashed 
 chocolate cake and hand-painted flowers. 
 
 Down the street they moved. It was no time for mere 
 words. Even Holy's vocabulary was inadequate to express 
 their feelings. Everything was dark, every place was 
 closed. It was not later than eight o'clock and there was 
 no place to go except to their room in the hotel. 
 
 In gloomy silence they mounted the stairs and sought 
 refuge in the little room. Through the window they had 
 a view of the church and the moving silhouettes within. 
 The iron entered more deeply. 
 
 Roarer went to the window, and like the prophet of old 
 contemplated the Promised Land that his feet were not to 
 tread. Suddenly his gentle, falsetto voice pierced the si- 
 lence. 
 
 "I hope that ice-scream will choke that outfit, especially 
 that lace-curtain female critter! Why didn't she let us 
 alone, anyhow? We was gettin' along all right until she 
 went and butted in!" 
 
 There was no response, and he continued forlornly, 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 31 
 
 "Gosh! There was strawberry and chocolate and vanilly 
 all on the same plate, and that hunk of cake was as big 
 as my fists! And every one in town's eatin' it exceptin' 
 us!" 
 
 They lighted the tiny coal oil lamp and tried to recon- 
 cile themselves to the inevitable. As the smoke from their 
 cigarettes filled the room their effervescent spirits reas- 
 serted themselves. Holy minced over to one of the narrow 
 beds and robbed it of a sheet which he proceeded to pull 
 over his shoulders and twist about his wrists while the 
 other two watched him curiously. Then the empty cor- 
 ridors and rooms rang with shouts of laughter as Holy 
 twisted, cavorted and gyrated, waved his long arms and 
 extended supplicating hands in an amusingly accurate im- 
 itation of the dance of the Maiden's Prayer. It was their 
 revenge for the loss of the cream. 
 
 An unexpected climax was reached when the sheet slipped 
 and precipitated Holy full-length on the floor, but the 
 sounds that rose on the air could never be confused with 
 the words of any Maiden's Prayer. 
 
 Bronco leaned forward listening intently, and as silence 
 reigned once more, he announced, ''Say, Holy, that was 
 the best you ever done yet. I counted sixteen new cuss 
 words that I never heerd you use before. That was the 
 best Maiden's Swear I ever listened to!" 
 
 Roarer looked up suddenly. "Say, did you notice them 
 
 Ireezers was right along side the back door? Mebbe we 
 in slip over and corral one of 'em without being cotched. 
 'm powerful thirsty and there ain't no place to get nothin' 
 11 eleven o'clock except the church." 
 "We could make a try at it," responded the others hope- 
 fully. 
 
 They slipped down the stairs. At the bottom, Bronco 
 suggested they get spoons from the hotel kitchen. It was 
 a matter of generalship to boost Roarer through the win- 
 dow, where his collision with pots and pans was no im- 
 pediment to his triumphal return with a soup ladle and 
 
82 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 two large spoons. In the darkness Roarer was able to re- 
 tain the ladle for himself, handing the spoons to the other 
 boys. Thus equipped they sneaked to the rear of the 
 church and crawled cautiously to the open door. One of 
 the cans w r as within easy reach — the other two some dis- 
 tance from the door. Conversation was in full swing and 
 every one's attention was directed toward the minister at 
 the front part of the room. 
 
 "Slip her quick/' whispered Bronco, "and then we kin 
 pack her out on the prairie and eat all we want." 
 
 The plan was carried out successfully. Roarer and 
 Bronco slid the freezer until it was outside the door. 
 Swiftly they lifted the tin can from the tub of ice and 
 hastened away with their prize, while Holy kept pace with 
 them. 
 
 At a safe distance from the church, they paused and re- 
 moved the cover. Roarer thrust his dipper down, but had 
 to reach further than he expected. Deeper he scooped 
 without reward. Once more he tried. It was too dark to 
 see inside of the can. 
 
 "Say, are you tryin' to hog it all yourself?" protested 
 Bronco. 
 
 "Nope, Take your turn now." 
 
 Bronco wasted no time, and the other two listened to the 
 click of his spoon against the tin can. After a few sec- 
 onds, he raised up, saying, "All right, Holy. You're 
 next!" 
 
 "How is it?" asked Holy as he leaned over the can. 
 
 "Fine as silk," was Bronco's recommendation. 
 
 "Best ice-scream I ever et," asserted Roarer. 
 
 Holy's spoon tattooed on the tin; it scraped forlornly, 
 then there was breathless silence, a grunt, followed b^y the 
 sound of an empty ice-cream freezer receiving several vig- 
 orous kicks accompanied by a terrific volley of cuss-words. 
 
 "You darn chumps," he gasped at last, "what made you 
 go and take the one that hadn't northin' in it!" 
 
 "Oh, darn it all. What's the use," piped Roarer's gen- 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 33 
 
 tie voice. " Let's go back and go to bed. Thar ain't 
 nothin' else to do in this yere town." 
 
 They were settled in their beds when Limber opened the 
 door and peered into the room. 
 
 "Hello ! I been lookin' all over for you," he announced. 
 "When did you get back? I was up here a while ago and 
 none of you was in." 
 
 "Oh, we was just walkin' around town a piece," was 
 Bronco's answer. 
 
 "Well, I got your guns for you. You all went off in 
 sech a hurry from the church that you forgot 'em. It's too 
 bad you boys didn't stay for the feed. It was fine." 
 
 "Oh, we knowed we had a hard day's work ahead of 
 us," drawled Bronco, "so we figured we'd better come 
 home and git to bed." 
 
 "Some one stole one of the freezers,' continued Limber, 
 soberly. "But whoever done it got the empty one." 
 
 "Served the denied galoots right," pronounced Bronco 
 virtuously. 
 
 "That's what I say," endorsed Roarer, while Holy ex- 
 pressed his sentiments more forcibly. 
 
 Limber struck a match which he held to his cigarette, but 
 his eyes regarded the grave faces of the boys. The match 
 flickered out and the room was again in, darkness, but not 
 before they had seen the ghost of a twinkle in Limber's 
 grey eyes. 
 
 "They got the freezer all right," he continued in the 
 darkness. 
 
 "Who found it?" asked Bronco carelessly, pretending 
 to smother a yawn. 
 
 "I done it," said Limber. "I was just a walkin' around 
 town a piece, like you all was doin', and I come across 
 it accidental like." 
 
 Silence was the only comment. 
 
 "The Inspector will be ready for us at eleven o'clock. 
 Agent says the cars will be here by that time, so we can 
 load out and get back to the ranch by supper." 
 
34 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "All right," chorused three voices in the dark, and 
 Limber went to his own room. As he lighted the lamp 
 there was a broad grin on his face, and his eyes danced 
 with laughter, while he reiterated Bronco's denunciation, 
 " Served the darned galoots right!" 
 
 Willcox slept late Sunday morning, so no one noticed 
 shadowy figures dismount from three cowponies two hours 
 before daylight. A struggling calf was making heroic 
 fight for freedom, but found itself propelled toward the 
 picket fence surrounding the church and thrust through 
 the gate. The mysterious men hitched the animal firmly 
 inside the fence, then two placards of pasteboard, tied 
 loosely together, were thrown across the calf's back and 
 secured like a pack-saddle by strong cord. This accom- 
 plished, the three men mounted their ponies and disap- 
 peared in the starlight. 
 
 Willcox woke, rubbed its eyes and remembered a minister 
 was to hold Divine Services that day of the year. Ten 
 o'clock arrived. The first youngsters and their adult 
 family connections approached the church gate. They con- 
 gregated in animated groups, were joined by others, and 
 finally spectators across the street, realizing that something 
 interesting was detaining the congregation from entering 
 the church, sauntered over. These inquirers hastened back 
 to town and circulated news that caused a vertitable stam- 
 pede. 
 
 By the time the minister reached the scene the crowd 
 composed the entire population of the town — men, women, 
 children and dogs, several of the latter adding to the ex- 
 citement by proceeding to settle feuds of long standing. 
 
 The Reverend Silas Hunter passed through the gate and 
 his eyes swept the crowd, then rested on the centre of at- 
 traction — a husky, white-faced calf tethered to the fence 
 by a rope. The animal had been lying down, in no way 
 disturbed by the people or dog-fights, but as the Dominie 
 scrutinized it, it rose and bellowed loudly into his face 
 amid shouts of laughter. Across the calf's back swung the 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 35 
 
 placards on which, printed in irregular letters, were the 
 words ; 
 
 I AM NOT TO BIG TO KUM 
 
 BUT FOR GODS SAKE HEAD 
 
 OF THE PROJIGUL SON. 
 
 "Oh!" ejaculated the Reverend Hunter, beaming upon 
 the assemblage. "I see we have a donation. We will keep 
 the calf, sell it and apply the proceeds to our Church 
 Funds. Now," he addressed two half -grown lads, "you 
 boys sit close to the door during services and see that the 
 calf does not get away. Some unprincipled person might 
 try to steal it, you know. We will find a place to care 
 for it after services." 
 
 Across the street Bronco, Roarer and Holy stood in 
 consultation. They had hovered on the edge of the crowd 
 when the minister made his announcement, and they real- 
 ized there was to be no opportunity to get possession of 
 that calf in order to turn it loose — as they had planned. 
 
 "Say, he sure called our hands," said Holy despond- 
 ently. "He's too derned smart to be a minister. What 
 the devil are we goin' to do about it?" 
 
 "Let him keep the doggone calf and well have to put 
 up a jackpot for the feller that owns it," advised Bronco. 
 
 "It ain't marked," squeaked Roarer excitedly. "Did 
 any of you see the brand on the cow it was with?" 
 
 None of them had noticed such a trifle in their desire to 
 capture the calf and accomplish the trick without discov- 
 ery. 
 
 "Well, I guess we'll have to own up," asserted Holy, 
 as they dropped side by side on the wooden bench in front 
 of the hotel, and stared hopelessly across at the calf and 
 the widely-opened church door. 
 
 "We sure got a hoodoo on us this trip," said Bronco. 
 "First we got buncoed out of the ice-scream by that female 
 window-curtain, then we goes and steals an empty ice- 
 
36 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 cream freezer and now we're stuck about that air calf. 
 It'cl be easy enough to pay for it if we knowed the mother's 
 brand, but seein' as we didn't pay attention to that, we've 
 just got to buck up and go to that gospel-shark and tell 
 him we done it. There's no tellin' what he'll do about 
 it, let alone the feller that owns the calf. Darn it all, why 
 didn't Limber stick along with us all the time and keep us 
 from gettin' into this mix-up?" 
 
 "Looks to me like Limber can't do nothin' more'n he's 
 done, exeept he chloroforms us the next time we get in 
 town," replied Holy emphatically. 
 
 Then the unexpected happened. The restless calf, work- 
 ing against the stiff, new rope, untied it. Before any one 
 in the church had observed it, the animal was down the 
 railroad track and pushing its way among numbers of 
 cattle that always congregated near the inspection chutes. 
 It moved to and fro, searching for its mother. The watch- 
 ing cowboys could see the two placards still firmly in 
 place. 
 
 "Gee! If we could just get them pasteboards off'n her, 
 nobody would know what calf it is"; Bronco said breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 "Come along!" 
 
 It was Holy who spoke and led the way to where their 
 ponies stood tied and saddled ready for work when Limber 
 and the Inspector arrived. 
 
 "We kin ride down there and scoop it off in no time." 
 
 The ponies dashed forward in a cloud of dust, but as 
 they neared the group, a long-horned buckskin cow turned 
 angrily as the calf pushed against it, and with a sidesweep 
 of her horn she caught the string that held the placards. 
 The string broke, but the placards snapped over the cow's 
 eyes, twisted tightly to her horn, and with a frightened 
 bellow she dashed down the railroad track, past the emerg- 
 ing congregation, with the pasteboards banging and flap- 
 ping across her face until she disappeared. 
 
 "That's the fust decent buckskin cow I ever seed," said 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 37 
 
 troneo. "She may have a yeller hide but she's a thorough- 
 ired Hereford inside, you bet!" 
 
 Then Limber and the Inspector came toward them, and 
 joined in the ride to the corrals. As they passed the group 
 of cattle they saw the calf contentedly taking nourishment 
 from a cow that was evidently its mother. Bronco, Holy 
 and Roarer cast surreptitous glances at the ear-marks and 
 brand of the cow. Their eyes met. Idiotic grins spread 
 over each face. The cow was branded Diamond II. None 
 of them spoke. 
 
 The cattle were inspected and loaded without any un- 
 toward incident, and Limber breathed more easily as the 
 time approached for him to head his men toward the ranch. 
 It was only during leisure hours in town that mischief 
 hatched, and the foreman could never tell what might de- 
 velope in a very short time. 
 
 It was with a feeling of relief from responsibility that 
 Limber tucked the certified check in his pocket, but as they 
 started homeward the boys were as glad as he. Bronco's 
 ear-splitting whistles, "Home, sweet home/' found sym- 
 pathetic response in the breasts of the other men. It had 
 been a strenuous trip. The ranch loomed like a haven of 
 rest. 
 
 The next morning Powell and Traynor discussed Paddy's 
 proposition with Limber, as they sat in the court-yard of 
 the ranch, after Limber had started the men for their day's 
 work. 
 
 "Thirty-five thousand in gold coin is what he wants," 
 said the foreman, "and his bunch of stuff is worth every 
 cent of it with the ranch throwed in. He won't count any- 
 thing under six months old, if you want to tally the herd 
 out, and tail 'em." 
 
 "It's a good buy, " Traynor replied. Then turned to 
 Powell. "Paddy is unique. He is seventy-six years old 
 and has toiled many years to accumulate a herd. He can- 
 not read or write a word, and carries every item of his ac- 
 counts in his memory. The storekeepers say that Paddy 
 
38 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 never makes an error when their statements for six months 
 are read to him, no matter whether the mistake is to his 
 advantage or not. He lives alone. Refuses to accept 
 silver or paper money and insists on gold for all sales. 
 He buries his money secretly, as he has no faith in banks. 
 He is a joke in the corrals, but no joke, however, when he 
 is roused. A bunch of rustlers found that out to their 
 sorrow." 
 
 Limber's eyes twinkled, as Traynor added, "Tell the 
 doctor what happened. You were there, I wasn't." 
 
 "Well, the rustlers rounded up a band of fine horses and 
 cattle and was makin' for the Mexican border. Pretty 
 near got thar when oV Paddy run into them alone. Him 
 and me had just parted trails, and when I heerd shootin' 
 I hurried to him. The rustlers was back of some rocks on 
 the hill-slope, Paddy a lyin' down in back of a bit of brush 
 not big enough to hide a good-sized jack-rabbit. His head 
 was hid and all the rest of him in plain sight, and those 
 rustlers was pumpin' lead as fast as they could. So was 
 Paddy, but they had the advantage of him everyway. 
 Four of 'em back of the rocks. Paddy had shot two of 
 their horses from under them, and they let the stolen stock 
 run whilst they hunted shelter afoot. Jest as I got near 
 enough to help him, he got a cartridge jammed in his 
 Winchester, and couldn't get it out. He worked and 
 cussed around, then got right up on his feet and walked 
 around that hillside, as if he was prospectin' for a mine, 
 takin' his time to find something to pry out that cartridge. 
 And those rustlers kept popping away at him. Every 
 time the dust kicked up close, Paddy 'd squint at the rocks 
 and cuss harder. Then jest as I got into the game, he got 
 that gun fixed, and derned if he didn't jest walk slow up 
 the hill, and fust thing, the rustlers come a humping out 
 from the rocks in every direction, and all of 'em — four men 
 — with their hands helt up over their heads, and Paddy 
 back of 'em." 
 
 "That was one of the times Paddy did not whisper," 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 39 
 
 laughed Traynor. "Well, I'll see Paddy for you, and 
 now, Limber, Doctor Powell wants to go see the Hot Springs 
 and talk with Doctor King." 
 
 "Doctor Powell could cut across the Galiuros the day the 
 boys start from here with the herd," said Limber, "or, if 
 Doctor Powell wanted to stay at the Springs a couple of 
 days with King, I could take him there and then go on to 
 "Willcox to attend to the loadin', and go back to the Springs. 
 Anyway suits me that suits him and you." 
 
 "That would be the best," commented Traynor. "You 
 and Doctor Powell can leave here the same day that the 
 herd starts to Willcox. Then let the doctor wait at Hot 
 Springs until you get back there after the shipment." 
 * "It would suit me perfectly," was Powell's hearty reply. 
 "That is if I will not be imposing unwarrantedly on 
 Doctor King's hospitality." 
 
 "If you knew him you would not say that," Traynor 
 spoke earnestly. "He is one of the biggest-hearted men I 
 have ever known. You and he will find many topics of 
 mutual interest apart from your profession. I am pretty 
 sure he will be delighted with your idea of sanitarium for 
 children as he loves children dearly. He has not an enemy 
 in Arizona. Every one likes him." 
 
 So the matter was settled, and four days later Limber 
 and Doctor Powell started just after daylight breakfast 
 for their ride of twenty-six miles across the Galiuro Moun- 
 tains to the Hot Springs. 
 
CHAPTER THREE 
 
 KATHERINE GLENDON stood outside the door 
 of the Circle Cross ranch house. On every side 
 the view was blocked by the tall Galiuro 
 Mountains above which loomed a sky of intense, glaring 
 blue without a cloud to soften it — a sky as hard and de- 
 fiant as the mountains that stared back at it ; a masculine 
 sky — a masculine country. 
 
 For eight years she had called four crude adobe rooms 
 home. Other women had attempted to live in the Hot 
 Springs Canon. But the isolation was too oppressive, and 
 one by one the squatters drifted away, leaving deserted 
 ranches to testify to their defeat, until only the Glendons 
 and old Doctor King, three miles distant, remained. 
 
 The morning meal was over, and Juan led a saddled 
 pony from the stable to a hitching-post in front of the 
 house. A tall, heavily set man slouched out, and the Mexi- 
 can paused to ask; " Shall I saddle my pony, senor? 
 
 "Not now," Glen don replied. "I want you to mend the 
 fence in the lower pasture. When you get done you can 
 follow me." 
 
 "Bueno, senor!" The man tied the pony and went 
 back to the barn, and Glendon dropped on the steps of the 
 porch, scowling at the ground. Accustomed to these spells 
 of moodiness, his wife made no attempt to rouse him, know- 
 ing it would only increase his surliness. 
 
 A child appeared at the side of the house; glanced 
 quickly from the man to the woman and then, seeing 
 his mother smile, made his way quietly to her side as 
 she seated herself on the steps. He held a book in his 
 hand, and as he leaned against her knee, with her arm about 
 
 40 
 
SIT 
 
 as 
 lis 
 
 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 41 
 
 his shoulder, turned the pages slowly, looking at her 
 occasionally but uttering no word. 
 
 The sound of hoofs on the road caused the three to 
 start curiously, for it was not very often that a visitor 
 passed the Circle Cross. Only on a few occasions during 
 the past eight years hal anyone except a cowboy or a 
 prospector entered the house. Once Doctor King had 
 ridden down at intervals, but Glendon's aggressive dis- 
 position made these calls unpleasant for all of them. 
 
 Katherine, knowing her husband was in one of his ugli- 
 est tempers, was sorry when she recognized the 'white- 
 haired old doctor, who loped his grey pony up to the gate, 
 smiling as he dismounted and slipped his reins over the 
 post. 
 
 "Hello, everybody!" he called cherrily. "A day like 
 this makes a man glad to be alive, even it he is old enough 
 to die." 
 
 Glendon stared at the ground, making no response. 
 Doctor King, with a comprehensive look, passed him by and 
 smilingly held out his hand to Katherine, who came down 
 the steps while Donnie ran ahead of her, holding up his 
 book. 
 
 "It's about Sir Galahad and the Holy Grail," the child 
 began eagerly, "and there's a picture — " 
 
 "His mother is always filling his head with a lot of 
 trash," growled Glendon, and the boy shrank back, the 
 happy light dying from his little face; but the doctor 
 smiled down at him as he took the book and turned over 
 he pages. 
 
 It's just the right kind of a story for Donnie to read,"' 
 
 serted the old man warmly. "This world would be a 
 lappier, better place it we all had the strength to live up 
 to our Vision." 
 
 Turning to Mrs. Glendon, he continued: "I can only 
 say 'howdy and good-bye' today. I'm on my way to see 
 a couple of sick people on the San Pedro River, but will 
 stop when I come back in three or four days. By the 
 
42 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 way," he said to Glendon, "when I was in town last week, 
 there was a telegram from Fort Apache to Fort Grant say- 
 ing that old Geronimo and about a hundred and twenty- 
 five Chiricahua Apaches have jumped the reservation and 
 the troops are out after them." 
 
 "Do you suppose there is any real danger?" asked 
 Katherine, who had lived too long in Arizona to be 
 frightened at rumors. 
 
 "No one can count on an Apache. He's a twin-brother 
 to Mark Twain's jack-rabbit — 'Here he comes — there he 
 goes!' He knows that Army officers are tangled with red 
 tape and unable to use their own judgment in pursuing 
 him and takes advantage of that fact. However, you know 
 there is one safe place in Arizona and that is the Hot 
 Springs; because the Apaches are superstitious about the 
 water. The house is safer than any fortress for that 
 reason. I've lived there twenty-five years and never been 
 bothered by them. Even Indians employed as Government 
 scouts have the fear, and will not camp within a mile of the 
 Springs, I 've been told by officers and interpreters. I wish 
 you folks lived a bit closer to me. ' ' 
 
 He rose as he spoke. "Well, I'll stop on my way back, 
 Mrs. Glendon. It's hardly neighbourly, rushing off this 
 way, but you know a doctor is not his own master. Take 
 my advice, young man," he added to Donnie, "never be a 
 doctor, whatever you may do. Why, just think how un- 
 grateful people are! You get them well, or try to help 
 them, and when they see you they stick out their tongues 
 at you ! ' ' 
 
 Donnie laughed, and King continued: "I don't believe 
 those people on the San Pedro would mind if I took time 
 to give you a ride. You see, a little bird told me that today 
 was your birthday, and we haven't had a ride for a long 
 time." 
 
 Placing the book in his mother's hand, the boy hastened 
 to the old grey horse and was lifted up in front of the 
 saddle. Doctor King mounted and slipped his arm about 
 
th< 
 
 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 43 
 
 the little fellow as the pony started at an easy lope down 
 the road towards Hot Springs lying south of the Circle 
 Cross in the opposite direction from the San Pedro River. 
 
 "So you are six years old today?" quizzed the Doctor. 
 "Getting a big boy now, and it won't take many birthdays 
 for you to be a man." 
 
 "Marmee gave me a book." Donnie spoke freely, now 
 that he was not in the vicinity of his father. "She made 
 a cake for me with white icing and six little red candles; 
 and Juan bought a mouthorgan for me when he was in 
 Willcox, and he is going to show me how to play on it 
 when Daddy isn't home, so the noise won't make him 
 nervous. Daddy is going to Jackson Flats, and Marmee 
 and I are going to read the book tonight. We lit the 
 candles and cut the cake this morning, so Daddy and Juan 
 could see it and have some in their lunch. I'll give you 
 a piece of it when we get back home. It was awful 
 pretty." 
 
 The doctor's hand reached over the boy's shoulder. 
 "You can't guess what I have in it," he challenged, and 
 Donnie shook his head slowly. 
 
 "Open my hand, and findings shall be keepings," bade 
 the old man. 
 
 After several futile attempts, the fingers relaxed and 
 Donnie gave a cry of delight. It was a penknife with four 
 bright blades — a real penknife like those men carried — 
 the first knife he had ever owned in his life. 
 
 "Oh!" the child's surprise could find no other word for 
 a few seconds, as he surveyed his treasure; then he lifted 
 his happy face. "I always kiss Marmee when she 
 'sprises me," he said shyly, "but Daddy says men don't 
 slobber, ' ' 
 
 The grey horse came to a halt and began nibbling con- 
 tentedly at the bunch grass between the rocks. He was 
 accustomed to these halts when Donnie and the doctor 
 rode and talked of many things. When one is young in 
 the world it is easy to clasp hands with those who are 
 
44 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 nearing the border of another world. Together they see 
 life in the same light. Youth has not learned to place a 
 false value on imitations and age has turned from them in 
 disgust. So the child and the old man understood each 
 other. 
 
 "Once upon a time, Donnie, many years ago, I had a 
 little boy, and when he w T as six years old I gave him that 
 knife, and when I gave it to him, he kissed me. Then, 
 afterward, we made a wonderful boat with sails. When I 
 come back from the River, you and I will make a boat like 
 it to sail in the big pond at the Springs." 
 
 The child looked up, then his arms went about the neck 
 of the old man and their lips met. 
 
 As the grey horse turned back toward the Circle Cross, 
 Donnie was silent for a few minutes, then asked, "Where 
 is your little boy, now?" 
 
 King's face bent over the child's curls, his chin rested 
 on his chest, his eyes were dim w T ith recollection, as he 
 answered gently, "lie went away from me, Donnie." 
 
 "Did he die?" 
 
 "Yes; and that was when he gave his knife for them to 
 give to me when I got back home." 
 
 They neared the porch where Katherine stood talking 
 earnestly to her husband. Doctor King let the child slip 
 from the saddle without himself dismounting. Donnie ran 
 to show his new gift. 
 
 "What a perfectly splendid knife!" exclaimed his 
 mother, opening the blades. ' ' Why ! It has four blades ! ' ' 
 
 Gratified, the child turned uncertainly to his father, 
 holding out the knife for his inspection and approval. 
 "See, Daddy!" 
 
 Glendon impatiently brushed away the hand and knife. 
 Katherine 's eyes dimmed with sudden tears at the crest- 
 fallen face of the boy and she held out her hand again for 
 the knife. King's eyes flashed angrily, and he checked the 
 horse he was riding away. 
 
 "Marmee, can't I give doctor a piece of my birthday 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 45 
 
 cake?" begged the child, and Katherine with hearty assent 
 went into the house, followed by the boy. In a few seconds 
 they emerged, Donnie proudly bearing a bit of cake crudely 
 decorated with white icing and a tiny red candle that had 
 burnt low. No words had been exchanged between the two 
 men in the interval. 
 
 Doctor King regarded the cake with admiration; ate it 
 and was loud in his praise as the finest birthday cake he 
 had ever tasted, and Donnie's face lighted up once more. 
 
 Glendon paid no attention to this episode and moved to 
 the hitching-post where his pony waited. He unfastened 
 the tie-rope without uttering a word. Doctor King 
 studied the sullen face. 
 
 "Which way are you going?" he asked pleasantly as 
 Glendon swung on the pony and dug spurs into the ani- 
 mal's sides, yanking viciously at the cruel Spanish, bit as 
 the pony started. 
 
 "Jackson Flats," was the curt answer. 
 
 "Do you think it wise? This report is reliable." 
 
 "Back tomorrow afternoon." 
 
 " I '11 ride as far as the forks of the trail with you, ' ' said 
 King, ignoring the surliness of the other man and con- 
 gratulating himself upon having an opportunity to broach 
 a topic that had occupied his thoughts for many months. 
 
 Glendon 's look was not inviting, but side by side, the 
 two men rode into the Hot Springs Canon toward the San 
 Pedro River. The wagon road terminated at the stable of 
 the Circle Cross, and from there merged into a narrow, 
 rocky trail which twisted zig-zag at the bottom of the 
 canon for five miles, then divided. One fork of the trail 
 struck up the side of the mountain and led to Jackson 
 Flats, twenty odd miles distant ; the other followed the bed 
 of the dry creek to the San Pedro River, fifteen miles away. 
 In the rainy season the sandy canon became a raging 
 mountain stream that was impassable. 
 
 The two men carried on a perfunctory conversation at 
 intervals, the doctor trying to find a suitable opening that 
 
46 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 he might not antagonize the other and so defeat his purpose ; 
 while Glendon, submerged in his mood, replied in mono- 
 syllables. King looked at the younger man in disgusted 
 anger; but remembering the woman and child, restrained 
 the bitter words that burned on his tongue. 
 
 "I wish it were not necessary for me to make this trip 
 just now," the doctor said, assuming a casual tone, "but 
 I cannot put it off any longer. I was thinking this morn- 
 ing, Glendon, that it might be wise to have Mrs. Glendon 
 and Donnie stay in Willcox until things are more settled.'' 
 
 "If I kept them there till rumours of Apaches are 
 settled, they would never come home at all," retorted 
 Glendon. "You know as well as I do there is less danger 
 when the Indians are reported off the reservation than 
 when it is supposed they are quiet. Besides, they will be 
 in too much of a hurry just now, trying to get across the 
 Mexican border before the Tenth Cavalry catches them. 
 They won't be up to any deviltry for a while." 
 
 King could not help acknowledging the truth in Glen- 
 don's words, but a sense of uneasiness oppressed him. 
 
 They reached the parting of the trails. "So long!" 
 muttered Glendon, but King laid a detaining hand on his 
 shoulder. Glendon turned his bloodshot eyes on the old 
 man and hitched his shoulder from the wrinkled hand. 
 
 "Glendon, there's something I have wanted to say to 
 for a long time. I'm an old man, and being a doctor gives 
 me many privileges, you know." 
 
 Glendon 's lips tightened. He made no reply as he 
 slouched in his saddle, slapping his leather 'chaps' with 
 his quirt. King hesitated a second and then went on 
 speaking in his kindly voice. 
 
 "My life has been long, Glendon, and my trail has led 
 over many rough places. I 'm almost at the end of it now. 
 "When one looks back, one can see more clearly. You are 
 just starting life. It is easy to avoid the places where 
 others have stumbled, if someone points them out. You 
 have a splendid wife and a fine boy ; the future holds many 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 47 
 
 possibilities for you — possibilities that I and many other 
 men envy. Glendon, don't sell your birthright for a mess 
 of pottage." 
 
 The other man scowled, but was silent, and King hoped 
 that his words were reaching the man's heart. 
 
 "Let me help you," pleaded the doctor eagerly. "I 
 understand what a struggle it is to overcome one's self- 
 Years ago I threw away my chances, and I know the cost. 
 I saw friends avoid me, and I did not care. My patients 
 deserted me, because I was not to be relied upon; my wife 
 and boy were taken from me while I was too drunk to 
 know they were dead. My father pleaded with me and I 
 cursed him. Then I became a tramp, drifting from place to 
 place, my only ambition in life to get whiskey. The train 
 crew threw me off a freight car one day and I wandered 
 around in Arizona, penniless and friendless, until I was 
 able to conquer myself and find my lost manhood. Thirty 
 years ago!" His head sunk and his voice trembled as he 
 added, "Nothing can ever give back the things I threw 
 away, nor can I undo the suffering I caused those who loved 
 me best. I saw the Vision, but had not the strength to 
 follow it." 
 
 Glendon laughed sneeringly; "So, like most reformed 
 characters, who have had their own fling to their heart's 
 content, you want to drag everyone by the hair of the 
 head into the particular straight and narrow path you 
 select for him. Thank you for your interesting sermon, 
 King. I prefer stumbling alone. I'm perfectly able to 
 look out for myself. By your own admission I couldn't 
 place much confidence in your assistance. Hereafter, mind 
 your own business and keep away from me and my family ! ' ' 
 He jerked his pony toward the upper trail, and kicked it 
 with his spurred heels. As it snorted and jumped, Glendon 
 sawed its mouth with the reins. 
 
 Doctor King watched this unecessary brutality, then 
 moved his pony beside Glendon 's. The man's eyes gleamed 
 with fury, but the old man made one more appeal. 
 
48 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "Glendon, think of your wife and boy, just a moment! 
 You are crushing all the happiness from their lives. It is 
 taking advantage of their helplessness. Only a coward 
 would do that ! " 
 
 King had said more than he intended; but now that he 
 liad spoken his true thoughts he gazed steadily into Glen- 
 don's bloodshot eyes. He did not flinch as Glendon 
 "wheeled his horse against the grey pony. Leaning over 
 the doctor, the other man volleyed a stream of oaths. The 
 doctor's face expressed only pity. Glendon realized it, 
 and his fury broke all bounds. He lifted the heavy leather 
 whip that hung on his wrist and struck viciously at King's 
 face. The grey pony leaped in fright, so the blow glanced 
 to the old man's shoulder. Glendon raised the whip a 
 second time, then let it fall by his side. There was no 
 resentment in the doctor's face, only infinite pity as he 
 held out his hand. 
 
 " Glendon, I understand. I struck and cursed the man 
 who tried to wake me. It was my own father." 
 
 "You mind your own business after this." snarled Glen- 
 don. "I'm sick of your meddling, posing and preaching. 
 I won't let you, Katherine, or anyone else dictate to me 
 about what I shall do, Damn the whole bunch of you, 
 anyhow ! ' ' 
 
 His pony scrambled up the steep trail under the sharp 
 prods of the spurs and the lashing of Glendon 's whip. 
 Doctor King looked after him, sadly. 
 
 "The same old road — each one stumbling over the same 
 rough places — learning only from his own bruises and 
 wounds. God pity the broken hearts of those who commit 
 no sin save loving. ' ' 
 
 The peculiar foreboding that had oppressed him all day, 
 returned more strongly. King wondered whether he had 
 better retrace the trail and put off his trip till tomorrow. 
 Then, recalling that Juan was at the Circle Cross with 
 Katherine and Donnie, and that Glendon would return the 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 49 
 
 next evening, while Leon's sick baby needed sorely the 
 doctor's care, he finally headed the grey pony toward the 
 San Pedro determined to make the trip as quickly as 
 possible. 
 
CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 TIE shadows on the ground told Katherine's prac- 
 tised eyes that it was nearly ten o'clock when she 
 closed the book she had been reading to Donnie. 
 
 "We'll finish it this afternoon," she said, "and now the 
 bread has to be worked, you know. ' ' 
 
 1 ' I wish I could be like Sir Galahad, Marmee, ' ' answered 
 the child wistfully. "Do knights hunt for the Sangreal 
 any more ? ' ' 
 
 "Not in suits of armour, my dear; but we all can be like 
 Sir Galahad, even today. The Vision of Right and Wrong 
 comes to everyone. Then the true knight puts on his in- 
 visible armour and takes the oath of the Round Table; — ■ 
 never to wrong rich or poor; never to be cruel; to show 
 mercy to those that ask it; always to be true; to take no 
 part in wrongful quarrel, but to help the weak and help- 
 less and serve the King loyally. ' ' 
 
 1 ' Can 't I be a knight ¥ I 'm six years old and Doctor 
 King said I would soon be a real man." 
 
 His mother looked down at the eager face, then said 
 tenderly, "Yes, dear. You can be mother's little Knight. 
 Kneel down, like Sir Galahad and take the oath." 
 
 Slowly and solemnly the childish voice repeated the 
 words of the Round Table oath, while the distant yelp of 
 a coyote quivered faintly in the air and the hooting of an 
 owl sounded like derisive laughter for the woman and child 
 alone in the wild canon. Neither of them heard the sounds. 
 Lightly the child's mother touched him on the shoul- 
 der. Her eyes were misty as she gazed down at the 
 little knight who must someday go out alone against the 
 hordes of invisible foes. Would he have the strength to 
 
 50 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 51 
 
 live up to the Vision? A leering face with bloodshot eyes 
 seemed to confront her, and the child's father drew the 
 boy away, saying, ' ' He is mine as well as yours. ' ' She put 
 the thought from her. 
 
 "Rise, Sir Knight! Defender of the weak and help- 
 less !" she said, while her hand rested on the boy's shoulder. 
 
 The child rose with serious eyes, then remembering what 
 the book had said, he knelt and kissed his mother's hand, 
 looking up as he said, "Marmee, now I'm your knight 
 really and truly and I'm going to take care of you all the 
 time." 
 
 Katherine caught him in her arms, and the newly -made 
 knight forgot the dignity just conferred, to nestle against 
 her breast and talk of the wonderful things he was going 
 to do for her when he was a big man ; but not once did he 
 speak the name of his father. 
 
 As they talked, Katherine 's eyes glanced at the high 
 edge of the canon, where the trail led to Jackson Flats; 
 she was surprised at seeing something that moved along 
 the trail toward the house. Two horsemen were distinctly 
 silhouetted against the sky, then a turn in the trail hid 
 them from view. 
 
 She rose hastily, speaking to the child. "Your father 
 and Juan are coming back," she said. "So, if you will 
 run and get some dry wood, I'll start the stove." 
 
 Donnie laid his book on the front room table and hurried 
 out the back door, but Katherine, knowing the riders would 
 reappear at another turn of the trail, took a pair of field 
 glasses from a nail, and focused them on the point. She 
 wondered if her imagination tricked her when she saw 
 several other figures in the gap where the first two had 
 appeared. Three, this time ; then more followed, a fourth 
 group loomed for a few minutes, then they, too, vanished 
 like wraiths. 
 
 Her breath fluttered, her heart pounded heavily, for she 
 knew too well what that line of riders meant. The glasses 
 crashed from her nerveless hands, and Donnie came run- 
 
52 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ning to her side. She looked at him, paralyzed by the 
 knowledge that those coming down the trail toward the 
 little home, were Geronimo, the grim, blood-thirsty Medi- 
 cine Man of the Apaches, and his band of bronco Indians. 
 
 Stories of the hideous fates that had befallen women and 
 children at various times of the Apache outbreaks, flashed 
 across her brain. Then she recalled Doctor King's words, 
 "You can't get an Indian within a mile of my place." To 
 remain in her home and barricade herself was hopeless, but 
 she could try to reach the protection of the Hot Springs 
 with her boy. 
 
 Donnie asked no questions when she went into the house 
 and returned at once, buckling a belt of cartridges about 
 her waist. A pistol swung in the holster. The field 
 glasses had not been broken in the fall ; she lifted them 
 and looked once more at the gap of the trail. There was 
 nothing to be seen. The Indians could not make fast time 
 down from that point, she knew, nor could they see the 
 ranch or canon until almost upon the little corral back of 
 the house. 
 
 "Come, dear/' she said, as she seized the child's hand, 
 and together they hurried down the steps through the 
 dense mesquite and shrubbery, on the road to Hot Springs. 
 
 The child could not keep pace with her nerve-driven feet. 
 She felt him lag, and looked down into his white face and 
 tear-filled eyes, and realized that he understood their 
 danger. She stopped and clasped him in her arms. 
 
 ' ' Don 't be afraid, dear. They won 't find us. ' ' 
 
 He tried to smile, but his lips quivered. In her despera- 
 tion a thought was born. It would be impossible to reach 
 the Springs, but up on the side of the canon was a large 
 cave. She and the child had often gone there pretending 
 they were explorers. The entrance was concealed by 
 heavy brash and surrounded by huge boulders. It had 
 been a place of refuge many times for the child when his 
 father's irascible temper awakened. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 53 
 
 "We'll go to our cave," she said, "and you know we're 
 the only ones who can find it. ' ' 
 
 Donnie's hand gripped hers tightly, and with a sharp 
 survey of the trail to Jackson, she started the climb up the 
 steep canon side, always keeping in the thickest part of the 
 mesquite. Down the cafion they had to cross the bed of the 
 dry creek, but once that was passed the boulders stood 
 thickly. Slowly they made their way, for the rarefied 
 Arizona air, the sharp pitch of the incline, the almost dead 
 weight of the stumbling child, the fear of those who rode 
 back of them made the climb doubly hard. 
 
 At last they reached the entrance of the cave, and sink- 
 ing to her knees, she half-pushed, half-dragged the terri- 
 fied child into their place of refuge. "With her arm about 
 the boy, she sat huddled against the side of the cave, but 
 through the brush at the mouth, she could discern the 
 Indians riding down the trail that ended at the corral. 
 They circled cautiously about the ranch, then growing 
 bolder broke into three bunches. Two groups approached 
 the house from front and rear, while the third party dashed 
 into the corral where the milk calf was kept, and in a few 
 minutes it was dead. The Apaches, apparently in frenzied 
 haste, slaughtered and quartered the calf, not taking time 
 to skin the carcass which was tied in sections to the ponies. 
 Others chased and captured all the chickens possible, wring- 
 ing their necks and adding them to other plunder, until 
 the leader, whom Katherine recognized as Geronimo, gave 
 a command which was reluctantly obeyed. The entire 
 cavalcade mounted and dashed down the canon, following 
 the road toward the Hot Springs ranch. 
 
 Katherine knew that the real danger now confronted her. 
 Though the canon was a mass of rocks, the roadbed where 
 she had crossed was sand}', making it possible that her foot- 
 prints might be discovered by the sharp-eyed hostile*, who 
 were constantly on the alert for signs. A short distance 
 from the spot which might betray her steps, several of the 
 
54 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Indians halted suddenly, whirling their ponies and gesticu- 
 lating to the others. The woman in the cave gripped the 
 revolver more tightly. 
 
 "They will have to come up single file," she thought, 
 then wondered why she no longer feared. 
 
 Carefully she calculated her chances, grateful for the 
 obstructing brush, the gloom of the cave and its projecting 
 sides which would protect her so long as her ammunition 
 held out. One by one, she counted the cartridges in the 
 belt, without taking her eyes from the figures in the canon 
 below. The distance across the canon was so narrow, that 
 the call of a quail on the other side of the Apaches could be 
 distinctly heard by the woman. 
 
 "Six, seven, eight/' the pitifully few cartridges slipped 
 through her hands until the last two lay in her upturned 
 palm. 
 
 She looked at them, then her eyes travelled to the child, 
 and she knew that she would not flinch at the last moment. 
 It was the only thing for a mother to do in Arizona, miles 
 away from any living being except 'bronco' Apaches. 
 
 Donnie's eyes met hers, but he asked no question with 
 his lips. The Indians were becoming more excited. Their 
 voices reached the place where the mother and boy had 
 found refuge. Eatherine peered through the bushes. 
 Geronimo was speaking, the others listened, and in obedi- 
 ence to his gesture, wheeled their ponies and rode up the 
 side of the canon opposite the cave. They reached the 
 ridge, halted a few minutes in consultation, then turned 
 their ponies' south-east along the backbone of the eleva- 
 tion until they vanished like a hideous nightmare. 
 
 "They are gone," she spoke with white-lipped tenseness, 
 as she held the trembling boy in her arms, and the full 
 realization of their narrow escape swept over her. 
 
 Immediate danger was past, but it would not be safe to 
 venture from the cave. Stragglers might arrive at any 
 moment. Familiar with Apache superstition which pre- 
 vents raids or fighting during night, she decided to 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 55 
 
 remain in the cave until it was dark, then creep to the 
 house and obtain food and water. Sunrise was the 
 favourite time with Apaches in making attacks. She 
 dared not further attempt to reach the Hot Springs. 
 Then she wondered if her husband and Juan had escaped 
 the Indians or not. 
 
CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 IT was almost noon when Katherine saw two horsemen 
 coming along the road that led from Hot Springs, 
 and her fears returned. But as the riders ap- 
 proached more closely, a look of almost incredulous relief 
 showed on her pale face. Hastening from the cave, she 
 stood on the slope of the canon, holding out her arms. 
 
 ''Limber! Limber!" she called, half -laughing, half- 
 sobbing. 
 
 The men jerked their ponies suddenly, stared up and ex- 
 changed a few hasty words, then sprang from their saddles 
 and hurried toward her. 
 
 "What is the matter, Mrs. Glendon?" Limber was the 
 first to reach her, and his face was almost as white as hers, 
 as she swayed slightly. Her outstretched hands were 
 caught in his firm grasp and the touch steadied her. She 
 tried to smile into his eyes. 
 
 "I'm all right now," she said, making a brave effort to 
 control her faltering voice, "but, you see, the Indians 
 passed here this morning. Donnie and I hid in the cave. 
 I thought they were coming back when I saw you." 
 
 "Whar's Glendon?" demanded Limber sharply, his eyes 
 narrowing as he spoke. 
 
 "At Jackson Flats with Juan. They will be home to- 
 night." 
 
 "He had no business leavin' you alone;" the cowboy's 
 voice was angry. "He knowed the Indians was restless. 
 I warned him last week when I seen him down in town, and 
 he promised me he wouldn't take no chances with jou and 
 Donnie." 
 
 "Doctor King told us this morning, but we did not think 
 
 56 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 57 
 
 there was any immediate danger, Limber," she said. The 
 man understood the gentle reproof. 
 
 "I didn't mean to knock Glendon, but it was takin' a 
 heap of chances, jest the same, and Glen hadn't orter done 
 it when he knowed Geronimo had jumped the Reservation 
 an' your ranch right on the old Indian trail to Mexico." 
 
 He turned to Powell who had been observing the woman. 
 
 "This is Doctor Powell, Mrs. Glendon. We rid across 
 from the Diamond H to see Doctor King. He ain't home 
 today, though." 
 
 Powell clasped the extended hand and felt the quivering 
 nerves, but before he could speak, Donnie appeared at the 
 entrance of the cave, his darkly-circled eyes telling the 
 hours of fear. 
 
 "Hello, Donnie!" called Limber cheerfully, placing a 
 calloused hand gently on the lad's shoulder. "You fooled 
 ol' Geronimo that time, all right. We've got the laugh on 
 him, haven't we?" 
 
 A faint smiled rewarded the cowboy, whose glance now 
 rested on the little pile of cartridges and the pistol. Lim- 
 ber said nothing, but stooped for the gun and ammunition, 
 then he saw the two cartridges lying apart from the others. 
 The muscles of his jaws twitched. As he picked up the 
 last two, he hesitated and looked closely at the ground. 
 His eyes travelled toward the rear of the cave then past the 
 brushy entrance. Katherine and Powell were making their 
 way down the side of the canon and Donnie 's hand was 
 held by the doctor. Limber followed them, lifted the child 
 to Peanut's back, and with a nod at Powell, mounted the 
 other pony and rode slowly toward the ranch house, while 
 the doctor and Katherine talking earnestly together, took 
 a shorter cut. 
 
 They found the kitchen of the ranch in chaos. It bad 
 been rifled of all provisions, but owing to the haste of 
 Geronimo nothing but blankets and some Navajo rugs had 
 been taken from the rest of the house. Limber, hearing the 
 milk cow bawling at the corral, left Powell, Donnie and 
 
58 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Katherine in the house taking inventory while he announced 
 his intention of milking the cow. 
 
 When the cowboy opened the corral gate, Beauty, the 
 cow, rushed into the corral and sniffed the ground suspici- 
 ously. She caught the scent of fresh blood and lifted her 
 head, her eyes rolling wildly as she bellowed rapidly and 
 shrilly, sucking her breath audibly between her cries, like 
 terrible sobs. 
 
 "You may be only a cow, but you know enough to have 
 it hurt you jest like humans, ' ' said Limber pityingly, as he 
 offered feed which she refused to touch. Gently he stroked 
 her heaving sides, and she paused in her cries, looking at 
 him with eager, appealing eyes. Then, as though under- 
 standing he could not help her, she resumed her shrill 
 grief. 
 
 Limber tied her to the fence, milked her and carried the 
 bucket to the kitchen. He put it on the table, glanced at 
 the empty wood-box and left the room. In a few minutes 
 the sound of splitting wood mingled with Donnie's chatter 
 and Powell's occasional remarks to Limber. From the 
 kitchen they heard the cheerful clatter of pans and the 
 hum of an egg-beater. 
 
 The little dining-room into which Powell was summoned 
 half an hour later, showed no traces of the hurried visit of 
 the Apaches. The table was spread with fresh linen and 
 decorated with a bowl of wild flowers. Despite the raid on 
 her larder, Katherine had managed to provide a luncheon 
 to tempt even a jaded palate. 
 
 "You must have Aladdin's lamp hidden somewhere, " 
 Powell remarked admiringly as he took the place opposite 
 Limber. 
 
 Katherine glanced up smiling, as she served a dainty 
 omelette. 
 
 "Nothing so magical as that," she said. "The truth is 
 that the Indians overlooked the springhouse where we 
 keep surplus stores. Limber helped more than Aladdin, 
 for he milked the cow, found a few eggs and chopped the 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 59 
 
 wood. With that much accomplished, any woman could 
 manage a meal." 
 
 "We must agree to disagree," dissented Powell, but the 
 conventional compliment was sincere. He was filled with 
 admiration for the woman, who within twenty-four hours 
 had gone through such experiences, yet retained her poise. 
 "I wish some of my hysterical women patients could meet 
 you, Mrs. Glendon." 
 
 Her surprise was not assumed. "Don't give me credit 
 that I do not deserve," she answered simply. "When cir- 
 cumstances conspire against one, there is no time to plan or 
 think. You just do things instinctively. Then, too, 
 women living on ranches learn to adapt themselves to many 
 things that would seem hardships to other women. Beside, 
 you and Limber reached me just as I was beginning to 
 quake. So I don't feel entitled to any praise." 
 
 "I am thankful that we happened to come when you 
 needed us most," the doctor responded heartily. "We 
 wanted to see Doctor King; but, finding him away from 
 the ranch, Limber suggested that w r e ride down here and 
 possibly find out when he might return." 
 
 "Leon's baby was sick," she explained, and Limber 
 nodded. "He'll be back in a couple of days, he said." 
 
 "I want to find out whether the doctor will consider a 
 proposition of mine regarding building a sanitarium at 
 the Springs," Powell went on. "Mr. Traynor said King 
 had such an idea, himself, and needed a partner-physician. 
 That was how Limber and I came this way today." 
 
 "You know our Arizona custom — our homes are the 
 homes of our friends. You are royally welcome to the 
 best we have until Doctor King returns." 
 
 The two men exchanged sudden glances, and Limber has- 
 tened to say, "I've got to get to Willcox this even, for the 
 boys are on the road with a shipment of stock. But, Doc- 
 tor Powell could wait here till King gets back. I was 
 thinkin' I had better ride down to Leon's and head Bang 
 back this way. Then he and Doctor Powell could talk to- 
 
60 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 gether, whilst I kin go to Willcox by the San Pedro road 
 instead of comin' back here." 
 
 "Don't change any plans on my account," the woman 
 said quickly, sensing their thoughts. "My husband and 
 Juan will be home tonight, so there is no occasion for anx- 
 iety." 
 
 "We'll wait till they come," Powell's voice was decided. 
 "After they reach here, Limber and I can follow Doctor 
 King. We have a new moon tonight and Limber says the 
 trail is plain." Then Powell changed the conversation by 
 asking Donnie if he spoke Spanish, and the child nodded 
 assent. 
 
 ' ' Marmee and I talk with Juan in Spanish all the time. ' ' 
 
 The doctor continued, ' ' I used to live in South America, 
 so I learned it down there. It varies a bit, but I have been 
 able to understand and make myself understood, so far." 
 
 Luncheon over, the doctor went on the porch with mother 
 and child, and Limber sauntered back to the stables to 
 water their ponies. He was holding the halter-ropes of 
 the animals while they stood by the water-trough, when he 
 saw Glendon and Juan riding down the trail back of the 
 house. 
 
 "Hello, Limber!" called Glendon as he swung from 
 his saddle. 
 
 Limber regarded him with angry eyes. "Well, Glen, 
 you sure kept your word to me in fine shape," he said in 
 open disgust. 
 
 The other man shrugged his shoulders. "There's no 
 danger. I can't sit around the place all the time holding 
 a gun because some fool rumour is started about the In- 
 dians. ' ' 
 
 He was unfastening the double cinches of his saddle, but 
 the leather straps fell from his fingers when Limber said 
 slowly and meaningly; "No. Thar ain't no danger now! 
 The whole bunch headed by ol' Geronimo passed here to- 
 day. That's all!" 
 
 Glendon 's face paled; "Katherine — " 
 
I 
 
 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 61 
 
 Limber relented. "Mrs. Glendon seen 'em in time to 
 get away, or else the Apaches would of got her and Donnie. 
 She hid in a cave, and when we found her thar was two 
 cartridges put one side. You know what that means. 
 'Tain't a pleasant thing for any woman to be alone and 
 get to a point where she has to save two cartridges. No 
 man has any right to ast her to take such chances — and if 
 he is skunk enough to expect it, he ain't wuth doin' it 
 for." 
 
 "How did you happen to find her?" asked Glendon, fin- 
 gering the hanging strap of the cinch, and avoiding the 
 other man's eyes. 
 
 "I come over with Doctor Powell. He's a friend of Mr. 
 Traynor's and been at the Diamond H over a month. We 
 come to see Doc King and rid down here to trail him up. 
 He wasn't at the Springs. That's how w<e found Mrs. 
 Glendon, and it made me hot all the way through." 
 
 "Oh, she's able to take care of herself. I guess there 
 wasn't so much danger. Katherine always exaggerates 
 tilings. She's too melodramatic. I'm used to her ways, 
 you aren't." 
 
 Limber's eyes flashed and he grasped Glendon 's arm 
 roughly, compelling the man to face him. 
 
 "Look here, Glen! I've stood by you when every other 
 decent man has throwed you down for a yellow cur. I done 
 it because I thought mebbe thar was a white streak in you 
 that didn't show on top, but the bunch you're getting mixed 
 with ain't goin' to do you no good, and you've got to pull 
 p mighty quick. Best thing you kin do, and what you'd 
 lighter done without any one telling you, is quit this coun- 
 
 y. If you ain't man enough to do it for your own sake, 
 o it for their 'n;" Limber's head jerked toward the house. 
 
 "You've been a true friend, Limber, or else I wouldn't 
 let you talk to me that way. I can 't leave here now, but I 
 will pull out as soon as I can arrange it. I give you my 
 word of honour." 
 
 Limber gripped the outstretched hand, "I'm clurned glad 
 
62 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 you told me, ' ' he said earnestly. " I '11 do anything I know 
 how for you and Mrs. Glendon any time you call on me." 
 
 Juan approached and removed the bridle from Glendon 's 
 pony, replacing a halter on it he was turning away, when 
 Limber spoke, "Thar's fresh lion tracks leadin' to that cave 
 whar Mrs. Glendon and Donnie hid this mornin\ I didn't 
 tell 'em, but they'd better keep away from the cave. 
 Lucky the lion wasn't tliar. You lay for it, Juan." 
 
 "Si, Sefior," the Mexican's promise was emphatic, and 
 Glendon, too, declared he would "run the brute down." 
 
 "I've been having a lot of bad luck lately," Glendon 
 said as he and Limber walked to the house. ' k This rough 
 range is hard to work and cattle so wild you can't round 
 'em up without running all the fat off their bones. By the 
 time they are driven thirty-five miles to "Willcox, no butcher 
 wants 'em. The longer I stay here the worse off I will be. 
 I 've written the old man and asked him to give me a chance 
 somewhere else. He may not answer my letter, but it won't 
 be any worse than now, if he doesn't. I didn't have enough 
 money when I started to pay expenses. ' ' 
 
 They reached the house where Glendon welcomed Doctor 
 Powell effusively. Something of the charm that had at- 
 tracted friends in other days, still was apparent when 
 Glendon was not drinking. Powell's keen eyes observed 
 the handsome face marred by lines of weakness and self- 
 indulgence. 
 
 "Glad to meet you," Glendon 's voice sounded sincere 
 and he grasped Doctor Powell's hand warmly. "We don't 
 have very many visitors around here, but from what Limber 
 tells me, it's been a regular reception day at the ranch. I 
 wouldn't have gone away from the house if I had thought 
 there was any real danger." 
 
 Powell, remembering that Limber had warned Glendon 
 previously about the Indians, and that Mrs. Glendon had 
 spoken of Doctor King's warning them, knew Glendon was 
 lying, and Powell hated a liar. Glendon 's eyes shifted 
 under the steady gaze of the doctor, and he hastened to 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 63 
 
 say, "I don't suppose Katherine offered you a drink. 
 Lucky I don't keep it in the closet or Geronimo would 
 have it by this time." 
 
 He started to get the liquor, but Powell prevented it by 
 rising from his chair and holding out his hand to Mrs. 
 Glendon. 
 
 "Now that you are not alone, I think Limber and I had 
 better be on our way, trailing Doctor King. I am anxious 
 to meet him as soon as possible." 
 
 Katherine and Donnie bade him farewell. Glendon kept 
 talking volubly. "I'm glad we know the Apaches have 
 passed here. No danger when you have a line on their 
 whereabouts, but when you don't know, they always bob 
 up. They hike for the Mexican border when the sol- 
 diers make it too hot for 'em in Arizona." Limber now 
 led the ponies to the gate, and Glendon held out his hand 
 to Powell, saying, "Glad to have met you, Doctor, and let 
 me know if there is anyway in which I can show my appre- 
 ciation for what you have done for Mrs. Glendon and Don- 
 nie." 
 
 Katherine smiled her gratitude, then Powell and Limber 
 rode down the trail to the San Pedro River, followed by 
 the eyes of husband and wife who stood on the porch of 
 the Circle Cross ranch. 
 
 As the turn of the trail back of the stables hid the riders 
 from view, Glendon said to his wife, ' ' I wonder what they 
 want to see King about. Looks urgent, chasing him that 
 way. ' ' 
 
 "Doctor Powell said that he and Doctor King might form 
 a partnership to build a Sanitarium at the Springs. You 
 know that has been Doctor King's dream for many years; 
 but he never has found any one who could qualify as phy- 
 sician and also have sufficient capital. I hope they may 
 carry out the plan. It is such a splendid idea ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh, you do, eh?" Glendon snarled the words as he 
 scowled at his wife. "Well, you may be interested in know- 
 ing that I'm figuring on getting the Springs myself. I've 
 
64 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 written father about the place. The only hitch would be 
 that it is on unsurveyed ground, and no one can get a title 
 except Squatter's Rights." 
 
 "But Doctor King won't sell to any one except a phy- 
 sician who will live there with him and establish a Sani- 
 tarium," Katherine asserted. "I've heard him say that 
 so many times. He also told me that Mr. Traynor had 
 made a good offer for the place, but it was refused for 
 those reasons. Maybe Mr. Traynor wrote Doctor Powell 
 about it. You see, Doctor Powell could qualify as a phy- 
 sician, and if he has not the money to finance the buildings, 
 Mr. Traynor could supply that, or interest other capital." 
 
 Glendon did not answer, but sat on the lower step of the 
 porch, staring moodily down the canon trail toward San 
 Pedro. His wife, learning from Juan that they had not 
 eaten the lunch in their saddle bags, busied herself prepar- 
 ing an early dinner, for the hands of the clock announced 
 four. She arranged the table then came to the front door 
 and spoke quietly. Glendon did not hear her. 
 
 She moved to his side and touched him lightly on the 
 shoulder, saying, "Dinner is ready, Jim. Juan said you 
 had not eaten lunch." 
 
 He leaped violently to his feet uttering an oath and glar- 
 ing at her. 
 
 "What are you doing? Spying on me?" he demanded 
 furiously, and brushed past her, knocking against her 
 shoulder as she stood in the doorway. 
 
 Her face paled. She made no answer, but turned to 
 the dining-room where Juan was at the table. Glendon 
 fortified his ragged nerves with a generous drink of whiskey 
 and slumped into his chair, only to grumble at everything 
 before him and finally push away his untasted food. Then 
 he rose so suddenly that his chair fell backward w 7 ith a 
 crash. He started, glanced at the chair, gave it a kick and 
 with another oath, flung himself from the house. Through 
 the window Katherine saw him again mount his pony. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 65 
 
 She sat with trembling lips, tears slowly forcing them- 
 selves from the drooping eyelids and wetting her white 
 cheeks. Juan's face was filled with pity, but he knew he- 
 could do nothing — say nothing, and he rose softly and 
 slipped away that she might be alone with her misery. 
 Bonnie's hand touched her cheek, and she opened her eyes 
 and smiled at him, thankful that the child was safe. Noth- 
 ing else mattered, after all. So while she removed and 
 washed the dishes, she talked cheerfully to Donnie. 
 
 Back in the front room again, the boy moved to and fro, 
 and at last turned his anxious face to his mother. 
 
 "I can't find my book, Marmee. Do you think the In- 
 dians took it f * ' 
 
 11 Why f no, dear," she replied, looking at the table. She 
 had noticed the book where Donnie had left it. It had 
 been there when she called Glendon from the porch for 
 dinner. No one had passed through the room since then 
 but Glendon. 
 
 Carefully she and Donnie searched the room, but no 
 trace of the book could be found. She stood staring down 
 the front walk to the gate, unwilling to acknowledge her 
 suspicions against the father of her child. Then on the 
 walk she saw something that caused her to hurry out. 
 
 The wind carried a torn page to her feet. She stooped 
 and picked up the fluttering, tell-tale bit of paper, and as 
 she held it in her trembling hand, the words caught her 
 eyes, "and he shall be a better man than his father." On 
 the upper part of the page rode Sir Galahad. 
 
 "Donnie, dear," she called and the boy came quickly to 
 her side. ' ' Come and help me look out here for the book. 
 Maybe we can find it in the bushes, somewhere. See, here 
 is a page, and the rest of it must be close by." 
 
 They found it torn, soiled, the covers broken and cracked, 
 and the child's sobs came unchecked as his mother's arms 
 went about him; the ache in her heart was too great for 
 tears. 
 
66 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "Donnie, we can mend it so it will be almost as good as 
 ever," she cheered him, and the child's sobs were choked 
 though the quiet tears rolled down his cheeks, as he went 
 back to the house with his mother, the mutilated book held 
 in his little hands. 
 
I 
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 N the meantime Powell and Limber were riding down 
 the canon, immersed in deep thought until Limber 
 said, "Thar was fresh lion tracks leadin' into that 
 
 Powell jerked about, "Good Lord !" he ejaculated, realiz- 
 ing what it would have meant had the brute been there 
 when the woman and child sought the place of refuge. 
 
 "I told Glendon and Juan, and they're layin' for it, and 
 Juan '11 tell Mrs. Glendon to keep away from the cave. 
 He won't forget it." 
 
 "Well," Powell commented, "I'm glad you told the 
 Mexican. That fellow Glendon thinks of no one but him- 
 self. I was watching the child when his father came on the 
 porch, and I'd hate to have any child or animal look at me 
 with such abject fear. It made me sick with fury. How 
 can that woman stand such a life!" 
 
 "Glen really does think a heap of her, in his own way," 
 Limber replied slowly, "But when he gets the smell of the 
 cork of a whiskey bottle, he goes plum loco. That's what 
 made the row between him and his folks back East. His 
 father has heaps of money, but won't have nothin' to do 
 with Glen. Leastways, that's what Glen tole me hisself, 
 onct. He said today that he's goin' to pull up stakes as 
 soon as he kin fix it to move, and take his fambly where 
 the Apaches can't run 'em like they done today." 
 
 "I'll give him credit for some decent instincts when he 
 moves them to a half-civilized place; but I wouldn't take 
 his word for anything. He's a natural liar, I think. I'm 
 sorry for that wife of his, and for the child." 
 
 67 
 
68 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ''She's one of the finest women that ever drawed breath," 
 answered Limber. "She's stood a lot, and she'll stand a 
 heap more." 
 
 Conversation ceased until the cowboy pointed to a high 
 peak. 
 
 "See that peak up yonder? An ol' fellow lived thar 
 fifteen years prospectin' for gold. Stayed all alone. He 
 was always cocksure he was goin' to find a big mine some- 
 day. Some one called him Monty Cristy, and the name 
 stuck to him like a cockle-burr in a horse's mane. One day 
 I was deer-huntin' and run into his camp. He had a dug- 
 out in the side of the mountain and a tunnel whar he 'd been 
 prospectin'. I went into the tunnel to look at the ore, and 
 found him sittin' thar against the side wall. His pick was 
 across his knees and a piece of ore in his hand, but he had 
 been dead over a week. I buried him up thar." 
 
 "Was the mine ever developed?" 
 
 "Twarn't nothin' to develope. The bit of rock in his 
 hand was like all the stuff on the dump outside the tunnel. 
 Plum worthless. Chock full of iron pyrites — not worth a 
 damn. 'Fools' 'Gold' is what the miners calls it." 
 
 The cowboy leaned over and petted his pony's neck 
 gently, then straightened up in the saddle and went on; 
 "I've often wondered whether ol' Monty knowed at the 
 last that it was only 'Fools' Gold.' Thar's a heap of peo- 
 ple besides ol' Monty that keeps on diggin', hopin' for a 
 strike and gettin' nothin' but 'Fools' Gold.' Tain't no 
 use talkin' to them. It's the lucky ones what don't find 
 out the truth, after they've put in the best of their lives 
 workin' on a false lead." 
 
 Powell's thoughts went back to the woman at the Circle 
 Cross, and he answered soberly, "You are right, Limber." 
 
 A number of buzzards circled in the canon a short dis- 
 tance ahead of them, but not directly on the trail. Limber 
 called the doctor's attention to them, and added, "We'd 
 better go over and see what it is that interests them. Maybe 
 only a dead cow; but when the Indians is out, you never 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 69 
 
 know what you're running into. You learn not to pass 
 anythin' by when you find buzzards." 
 
 They left the trail, worked through the dense under- 
 brush that was matted with dead grass and other debris 
 from past heavy floods. Buzzards flew up thickly at their 
 approach. Then they sat looking down at a grey horse 
 huddled in the rocks. Saddle and bridle were gone. A 
 few feet away was the body of an old man, his white hair 
 clotted with blood from a bullet wound in the left temple ; 
 his sightless grey eyes upturned to the blue skies, as though 
 in mute questioning. 
 
 "God!" ejaculated Limber, as he leaped from his horse. 
 ''It's ol' Doctor King! Damn them Apaches!" 
 
 Powell's shock was not less than the cowboy's, and he 
 knelt beside the body of the man whom he had hoped to 
 work with at the Springs. He did not think of the an- 
 nihilation of his own plans, but the things he had heard of 
 the kindly old man. Death had been instantaneous. The 
 bullet had entered the left temple, ranged downward and 
 out behind the right ear. The two men looked at each 
 other, then Powell's eyes went up to the broken side of 
 the canon. From back of one of those rocks had sped the 
 messenger of death, with no warning to the old doctor 
 who was on his errand of mercy to a little Mexican baby. 
 
 "Why didn't the Indians take the horse?" was Powell's 
 question. 
 
 "Because it's grey. They ain't got no use for a grey 
 or white horse, specially when they're out for trouble." 
 
 Limber studied the ground about the horse and its dead 
 owner. 
 
 "Too rocky to show any trail," he commented at last. 
 
 "He's been dead over night," Powell asserted as he 
 finished examining the body. 
 
 "The Apaches have been hangin' about for several nights 
 in the Graham range. Thar's two bunches. I seen 'em 
 signalling three nights ago right back of Fort Grant where 
 the soldiers couldn't catch sight of their fires. They keep 
 
70 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 lookouts on the high peaks and hold a blanket in front of 
 the fire. Beats a telegraph office. Thar ain't nothin' 
 smarter 'n an Apache, unless it's two Apaches. You can't 
 trust one unless he 's dead. Chances is that the two bunches 
 figure to come together at Point of Mountains, seven miles 
 north of Willcox. Then when it's dark they'll jump across 
 the valley to Cochise Stronghold and work into Mexico." 
 
 "But, the soldiers could head them off," Powell inter- 
 posed. 
 
 Limber snorted. "Sounds that way all right. But, if 
 you jest look at these mountains and canons, you'll 
 pretty soon see that the soldiers has jest as much chanct 
 against them Apaches as an elephant would have if you 
 set him in a hayfield to kill a flea by trompin' on it. When 
 they're tired of killin' people and w T ant a vacation and no 
 hard work, they come in and give themselves up and go 
 home to the Reservation." 
 
 "There's nothing to be done here now, except to notify 
 the proper authorities at Willcox, I suppose," Powell re- 
 sumed. "We found him — but it's a different ending from 
 the way we thought." 
 
 Limber unstrapped a Navajo blanket from the back of 
 his saddle, and together they wrapped the stiffened form of 
 the old doctor. 
 
 "Thar's heaps of people goin' to miss him," the cow- 
 puncher said slowly, as they stood looking down. "No- 
 body ever called him that he didn't go, rain or shine. He 
 never took one cent for what he done. Jest tol' 'em to feed 
 him an' his ol' grey horse and that was all the pay he 
 wanted. He was sure a good man;" both heads were un- 
 covered in silent homage. 
 
 "I'll stay here," continued Limber, "if you'll ride back 
 to Glendon's and get his spring wagon, so we kin take the 
 body to Willcox. It'll be hard gettin' the wagon in the 
 canon, but I guess we kin make it. We'll lead our ponies 
 behind the wagon." 
 
 Powell was already mounting his horse, as Limber added, 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 71 
 
 " 'Twon't take a Coroner's jury long to bring in a verdict. 
 I'm doggone glad, though, we ain't a packin' Mrs. Glendon 
 and Donnie along with Doctor King. They sure had a 
 close call this mornin '. If Geronimo hadn 't been in a hurry 
 to get across to that other bunch, they'd sure trailed Mrs. 
 Glendon to that cave." 
 
 "It is no place for any woman to live," Powell's voice 
 
 ibrated with indignation. "I can't understand how any 
 
 man could bring a woman like her to such surroundings. 
 
 I'm glad he intends to move his family away. Any place 
 
 would be better than this, for her." 
 
 Limber watched his companion ride off, then busied him- 
 self with a second examination of the ground in the vicinity 
 of the dead man and horse. Satisfied at last that he had 
 overlooked no trace, he dropped on a boulder and rolled a 
 cigarette, but as he shook the tobacco from the sack into 
 the brown paper, a portion of it fell to the ground un- 
 noticed. Limber was staring into space, an expression of 
 doubt lurking in his grey eyes. 
 
 "Derned if I kin understand why they took so much 
 trouble hidin' their trail, Peanut," he spoke to the little 
 pinto pony at his side. "The main bunch must of rid 
 higher up and one of 'em come down for the bridle and 
 saddle after King was shot; but, thar ain't a moccasin or 
 any other track nowhars. It beats me." 
 
 When Powell returned he was accompanied by Glendon, 
 who climbed into the driver's seat and picked up the reins 
 after they placed King's body in the wagon. Limber, lead- 
 ing Powell's pony, followed the wagon, mounted on Peanut. 
 The vehicle bumped and jerked over large rocks of a trail 
 that never before had been traversed by wagon wheels. 
 
 Powell was not inclined to talk, but Glendon forced con- 
 versation, though it savoured of a monologue. 
 
 "King told us he had no one belonging to him," Glen- 
 don's voice broke the silence of the canon, while the team 
 headed for the Circle Cross. "Katherine said you expected 
 to form a partnership with him and establish a sanitarium 
 
72 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 at the Springs. I suppose his death will alter your plans. 
 All this part of the country, you know, is unsurveyed 
 ground and title held by possession only. I'd have bought 
 the Springs myself if there had been a regular title. Hesi- 
 tated at it because I only could acquire Squatter's Rights, 
 you know. However, I took the matter up recently with 
 my father, and am now waiting his reply? I don't under- 
 stand why King didn't let you know I was figuring on it. 
 Did he give you any option ?" 
 
 "No;" answered the Doctor, wondering at the statement 
 which conflicted with what Limber had just said regarding 
 Glendon's plans to leave the canon. Then he recalled that 
 Traynor had asserted King would not sell to any one ex- 
 cept a physician who would co-operate with him in his 
 plans. He knew the man beside him was lying for some 
 reason, but what that reason was, Powell could not decide. 
 "I have not even broached the matter to Doctor King. I 
 came over today to look at the place and if it suited me, to 
 make a proposition to him. I never met him and I don't 
 believe he ever heard of me." 
 
 "Of course," Glendon went on, as Powell stopped ab- 
 ruptly wondering if Glendon had no sense of decency to 
 keep talking while the dead man lay in the wagon they 
 were driving, "I had no written agreement with King. 
 Out here, a verbal contract is all we ask of a man. So I 
 ought to have prior right because of our understanding. I 
 don't suppose he made any will, as he had no heirs, and 
 could not will the Springs, anyway, without a legal title 
 to it himself. • In that case, the estate would revert to the 
 Territory. A Government Patent would have made less 
 complication." 
 
 He glanced furtively at Powell, who made no reply, as 
 they had reached the corral of the Circle Cross. Katherine 
 Glendon stood on the porch, her eyes blinded with tears, her 
 lips quivering. 
 
 Glendon climbed heavily from the driver's seat, and 
 Powell saw that his steps were uncertain. Limber tied his 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 73 
 
 pony, Peanut, and the doctor's horse to the back axle of 
 the wagon. A few quiet words were spoken by the two 
 men to Mrs. Glendon, then they went on their way with 
 their tragic burden, and each man was busy with his own 
 thoughts. 
 
 It was past sunset when they reached Willcox. After re- 
 porting the tragedy and turning the body over to the au- 
 thorities, there was nothing more they could do, and Powell 
 went to the Willcox Hotel where he obtained a room. Lim- 
 ber parted from him at the door. 
 
 "I guess I'd better hunt up the boys and see how things 
 is goin' along with the cattle.' ' 
 
 Though neither spoke of it, the uppermost thoughts in 
 the minds of the two men was the woman at the Circle 
 Cross, alone with a man whose indifference to her danger 
 had almost cost her life and that of her boy's. 
 
 Back in the lonely canon a coyote skulked past the empty 
 house at the Hot Springs. Further down the road a woman 
 stood at the door of her home staring into the darkness. 
 
 "When she had made her final visit to see if Donnie were 
 all right for the night, and leaned over to press a kiss on 
 the child's cheek, something slipped from his relaxed hand. 
 Wondering which of his toys he had smuggled to bed with 
 him, she stooped and saw the pen-knife that old Doctor 
 King had treasured through his long, lonely years. A 
 wave of realization overwhelmed her. There would be no 
 more visits from this loyal old friend, now. The future 
 loomed ahead of her as black as the night that wrapped ther 
 ;anon. 
 
CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 THE second shipment of the Diamond H cattle had 
 reached Willcox a little after noon, and Holy 
 lingered at the Cowboys ' Rest with Buckboard Bill, 
 while Bronco and Roarer proceeded up the street. They 
 were not visible when Holy, hastening through the corral 
 gate, encountered Montgomery Walton. The latter 's man- 
 ner was so cordial that Holy halted in surprise. 
 
 Montgomery "Walton, the most unpopular man in South- 
 ern Arizona, was almost seventy years old, though as alert 
 as a man of forty. His white, flowing hair and patriarchal 
 beard were contradicted emphatically by ferret-like face 
 and shifty eyes, while his oily smile exposed yellowed tusks. 
 He owned a fairly good-sized herd of cattle that were pre- 
 ternaturally prolific, as his cows were very often seen with 
 twin calves following them. Walton discouraged calls 
 from other cattle men, and lived alone except for a half- 
 witted Mexican — Loco. 
 
 To the disgust as well as amazement of Holy, Walton 
 ambled along at his side, and finally, tugging at the cow- 
 boy's blue flannel sleeve, drew him to a bench on the edge 
 of the sidewalk. Then he produced a letter, extracted a 
 small photograph and handed it to Holy. 
 
 "What do you think about her?" asked Walton with a 
 smirk, as he pressed more confidentially towards the cow- 
 puncher. 
 
 Holy studied the picture of a sweet-faced girl. 
 
 "Why!" he ejaculated enthusiastically, "She's a regular 
 peacherina. Who is she?" 
 
 Walton replaced the picture as he said, "She's coming 
 
 74 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 75 
 
 on the west-bound train today and we're going to be mar- 
 ried at once." 
 
 "Gee! You sly old dog!" commented Holy jocularly, 
 while he wondered if the picture really looked like the girl y 
 and if so, why she was going to marry a man like old Wal- 
 ton. Then an inspiration dawned upon him, and he turned 
 to Walton, clapping him heartily on the shoulder. 
 
 "Well! Why shouldn't you get married, I'd like to 
 know?" he demanded as though that privileged had been 
 questioned by some invisible individual. "A man's age 
 ain't to be reckoned by his years. No, sirree ! I've seed 
 some men who was ready to die of old age when they was 
 twenty-five, and I've seed others that was young when 
 they'd past eighty. Now, no one would ever think you was 
 a day over forty, Walton, if it wasn't for that air white 
 hair and beard of yourn." 
 
 Walton preened foolishly and tried to look incredulous, 
 as he replied, "Do you really think so, Holy?" 
 
 "Sure thing!" asserted the other. 
 
 He looked contemplatively at Walton, then leaned closer 
 and whispered, "Say, Walton, why don't you get Dunning 
 to dye your hair and beard before the girl gets here. It'll 
 make a difference of thirty years in your looks." 
 
 Walton hesitated. "Maybe I will," he temporized. 
 "You see, I sent her a picture of myself, but it was taken 
 when I was about twenty-five. So I was a bit worried how 
 she would act when she found I was not so young as she 
 expected. I hadn't thought of getting my hair dyed, 
 though. It's a good suggestion, I think." 
 
 "You bet it is!" Holy waxed enthusiastic. "Women 
 is queer critters, an' a young and pretty woman likes the 
 man she marries to be somewhar near her own age. She 
 don't want to risk other women thinkin' that she had to go 
 to an 01' Man's Home and kidnap a husband. You jest 
 take my advice, Walton, an' have a heart to heart talk with 
 Dunning right away." 
 
 "I'll think about it," evaded Walton, as Holy with con- 
 
76 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 gratulations, parted from him, knowing Bronco and Roarer 
 could be located behind the swinging doors that led to the 
 bar-room of the Willcox Hotel. 
 
 Holy 's smiled expanded to a broad grin as he recognized 
 his friends at the end of the room and made his way to 
 them. 
 
 "Thar's somethin' interestin' goin' to be cut loose if you 
 fellows will chip in," he announced confidentially. "Now, 
 don't waste time talkin' or askin' fool questions. You jest 
 come along with me down to Dunning 's and fix it up with 
 him. We ain't got no time to lose." 
 
 Before he had finished speaking, he was half-way to the 
 door — the other two close at his heels. Holy vouchsafed 
 no explanations for his mysterious actions. Hurrying 
 down the street they entered a small barber-shop which was 
 unoccupied save for the owner. Dunning was the only 
 barber in Willcox. He was an autocrat. 
 
 A chair, facing the wall on which was a fly-specked mir- 
 ror, a row of wooden seats, and a conspicuous placard bear- 
 ing the pleasant, but misleading fiction, "Fresh towle for 
 each customer," constituted the furnishings of the place. 
 Dunning 's hair shone glossy brown; his moustache curled 
 tightly as a pug dog's tail, a gorgeous red four-in hand, 
 tight, grey trousers with broad black stripes made him 
 brilliantly conspicuous among the citizens of Willcox. Be- 
 tween shaves and haircuts the barber delved into senti- 
 mental fiction. 
 
 With reluctance he put aside a yellow-backed novel and 
 rose leisurely to his feet. His speculative survey was in- 
 terrupted by Holy. 
 
 ' ' Say, Dunning, you know ol ' man Walton, ' ' he began. 
 
 "Lived round here fifteen years, never had his hair nor 
 beard cut onct ; ' ' catalogued Dunning. ' ' So derned stingy 
 that he'd skin a flea to get its hide and tallow!" 
 
 "Mebbe you'll git a chanct at him today;" encouraged 
 Holy. "He's goin' to git married!" 
 
 The others snorted in surprise, and Bronco announced 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 77 
 
 contemptuously, "There ain't a bunch of calico in Arizona 
 that would let him near enough to rope her, let alone carry 
 his brand." 
 
 "Oh, you make me tired," Holy retorted. "Who said 
 he was workin' any Arizona range? The girl's comin' 
 from the East on today's train. He showed me her pic- 
 ture. I give him a fill about his white hair makin' him 
 look old, and said he'd ought er get Dunning to fix him up. 
 Say ! — he swallered it like a rattlesnake swallers a gopher. ' ' 
 
 "She must be locoed," growled Bronco, suspiciously. 
 
 "I own I ain't been dazzled by the charm that draws 
 her," acknowledged Holy, "but what interests me is that 
 the Diamond H owes ol' Walton for a heap of things he 
 ain't done. Say, Dunning, there's twenty-five pesoes for 
 you, if you fix him good and proper. I got an idee — but 
 you may have to go out of town for a few days. ' ' 
 
 "That's all right. Business ain't pressing. I figured 
 on goin' out prospecting for a couple of weeks, anyhow. 
 If any of the boys wants a hair-cut they can wait till I get 
 back." 
 
 "Say Dunning, stay away three weeks," begged Bronco. 
 "I'll make it thirty dollars if you do." 
 
 It was not solicitude for Dunning 's safety that prompted 
 this request, but Bronco, remembering that Dunning was 
 the only barber, had a vision of the entire male population 
 of Willcox sporting Rip Van Winklish hair, unless their 
 flowing locks were mutilated by connubial scissors during 
 Dunning 's absence. 
 
 "Thirty goes," agreed Dunning. "Now, what is it you 
 boys want done ? ' ' 
 
 Holy explained, interrupted by bursts of laughter from 
 Bronco and Roarer, and finally, Dunning, with a grin, 
 ended the consultation by saying, "You fellers get him in 
 here and I '11 earn that thirty. ' ' 
 
 
CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 WALTON left Soto's store after giving orders that 
 his purchases be ready when he came with his 
 wagon at four o'clock, then he walked slowly 
 down the street, weighing Holy 's suggestion. Vanity strug- 
 gled with parsimony. 
 
 He reached Dunning 's shop and paused uncertainly, 
 without suspicioning three pairs of eyes that peered from 
 a small window in the hotel. Dunning, inside the shop, 
 was seemingly oblivious to the man on the sidewalk but 
 looked up with a professional smile when Walton entered 
 the door. 
 
 "Well, Walton," Dunning's attitude was almost affec- 
 tionate, ' ' What can I do for you ? Shave '? Hair trimmed 
 a leetle bit? I don't wonder you kept away from me all 
 this time, and I'm just artist enough to say if you want me 
 to cut off your beard or hair, I won't do it for you or 
 nobody else. But a leetle bit of trimming would improve 
 it lots." 
 
 "I — Do you ever dye hair or whiskers, Dunning?" 
 
 "Sure;" was the answer. "I guarantee my work and 
 mix my own dyes, and you 'd be surprised if I told you the 
 names of people I've fixed up. But, my work is con- 
 fidential. My customers trust me and I never betray 
 them." 
 
 1 ' Well, do you think you could fix mine ' ' asked Walton 
 with an uneasy smile. 
 
 "Bet your boots! Nothing would please me better. 
 Now, I suppose you'd want it dark, wouldn't you?" 
 
 "Black. That's what it used to be," W x alton replied. 
 "But how long will it take?" 
 
 78 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 79 
 
 The barber cocked his head sideways, squinted an eye 
 critically, then walked solemnly around Walton several 
 times, and finally slipped his fingers through the beard and 
 hair. 
 
 "It's a fine growth," he announced. "I can finish it in 
 an hour." 
 
 "How much will it cost?" Walton paused in front of 
 the chair which Dunning was adjusting for him. 
 
 "Well, I usually charge fifteen dollars for such a job, 
 but I'm willing to do it for five, if you promise not to let 
 any one else know I cut the price to you." 
 
 "I won't give over three," asserted Walton firmly, mov- 
 ing to the door. 
 
 Dunning, fearing flight and the attendant loss of the 
 thirty dollars, followed Walton humbly. 
 
 "Now, see here, Walton, why can't we split the differ- 
 ence? If I come down a dollar, you can sure raise one. 
 I'll do a first-class job for four dollars. My regular price 
 is fifteen. Why, man ! It will make you look twenty years 
 younger ! ' ' 
 
 Impervious to flattery, Walton kept edging nearer the 
 door. 
 
 "Three and a half," compromised Dunning desperately. 
 
 ' ' Three dollars ; ' ' declared Walton, reaching for the knob, 
 but watching Dunning sharply. 
 
 "All right," consented the barber. "Three dollars. 
 But don't you fool yourself into believing you are going 
 to get an everyday, ordinary dye. It's my own invention. 
 Guaranteed permanent or money cheerfully refunded. Re- 
 sults astonish everybody." 
 
 ' ' Sure you will get it done by train time ? ' ' asked Walton 
 anxiously, as Dunning led him to the chair and deftly 
 pinned a sheet about his neck. 
 
 Dunning glanced at the clock, "Just time to do it fine," 
 he assured Walton, who stretched out luxuriously, deter- 
 mined to get his three dollars' worth as far as possible. 
 Dunning was engaged in mixing various liquids. 
 
80 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 " Going on a trip?" lie asked, standing with his back to 
 "Walton while he stirred vigorously. 
 
 "Not exactly. I'm going to be married. The young 
 lady will arrive on the west bound train, and we're to be 
 married at once and go out to the ranch." 
 
 "Well, you did the right thing in coming to me," an- 
 nounced Dunning, as he finished manipulating the concoc- 
 tion. "That white hair did make you look old, Walton, 
 and I often wondered why you didn't touch it up a bit. 
 I bet when I get you fixed up, that she won't ask how old 
 you are. Say, I'll stake ten dollars on that bet." 
 
 "Will it stay black, or have to be done over again?" 
 
 * ' Guaranteed permanent. Only way to remove or change 
 the colour after it is once on, is keep the hair shaved close 
 to the roots for six months." 
 
 Walton twisted nervously. "I wish you'd draw down 
 that shade and lock the door. I don't want any one hang- 
 ing around while you are busy." 
 
 1 ' That 's what I figured on doing, ' ' agreed the barber, act- 
 ing as he spoke ; but winking at the boys of the Diamond H 
 who were sauntering past as the shade was lowered. 
 
 Walton sank back with a sigh of relief. The silence of 
 the dimly lighted room and the movement of the barber's 
 hands, had a soporific effect on the customer, who closed his 
 eyes and snored peacefully, while Dunning kept a wary eye 
 on the clock until he heard the whistle of the approaching 
 train from the East. 
 
 "Better hurry, Walton! Train's pretty near the depot, 
 now. I just got done in time." 
 
 Walton waked with a start as the sheet was jerked off, 
 and Dunning 's voice sounded jubilantly in his ears, "Job's 
 done fine. I'm proud of you!" 
 
 With a hasty glance at the small mirror in the dimly- 
 lighted room, Walton's blinking eyes saw a dark flowing 
 beard, a mass of dark hair. The noise of the train warned 
 that time was precious and fleeting. Thrusting the three 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 81 
 
 dollars into Dunning 's palm, he grabbed his hat and ran 
 across the street to the depot, where the train was puffing 
 to a stop. 
 
 Walton scanned the rows of windows with passengers 
 looking aimlessly at the town. Their bored faces suddenly 
 became animated with smiles. Walton found the tourist 
 sleeper, where he saw a girl in a grey suit on the platform 
 of the car descend the steps, while the porter helped a deli- 
 cate-looking boy. 
 
 The bridegroom-elect moved more swiftly, and reached 
 the girl just as the porter shook hands with the child and 
 said, " You '11 be a big cowboy before long, Ah reckon;" 
 then the train went on its way, leaving the girl looking 
 about nervously. 
 
 Among the loiterers at the depot, Bronco, Holy and 
 Roarer glanced at each other in consternation. 
 
 "Good Lord!" "Holy, that ain't the girl, is it?" 
 
 Holy did not answer. The enjoyable flavour of the joke 
 had evaporated, like a dose of castor oil in orange-juice, 
 and a decidedly disagreeable taste remained. Holy ac- 
 knowledged to himself only, that his preconceived idea of 
 the picture as a fake, sent to old man Walton by an unat- 
 tractive, elderly woman, was without any foundation. 
 This girl was much prettier than the photograph. Any 
 doubt as to the identity was dispelled when Walton sallied 
 up to the girl and took off his hat with an elaborate flour- 
 ish. 
 
 She started back, her frightened eyes travelling slowly 
 over Walton's hair and beard. Meeting that prolonged 
 glance, he attributed it to his fascinating appearance, and 
 smirked and preened consciously. 
 
 "I'm Montgomery Walton," he said unctuously. 
 "Everything is arranged so we can be married without de- 
 lay and get out to the ranch tonight. The Justice of Peace 
 is waiting for us." 
 
 The girl's pretty colour faded suddenly as she saw him 
 
82 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 pick up her valise with an air of proprietorship. She 
 looked at the child, took a step toward Walton — stopped, 
 then cried out, "No! No! I can't do it!" 
 
 Walton scowled, but controlled himself and said, "You 
 are tired from your long trip just now, I know. It won't 
 take long to get started for the ranch after we are mar- 
 ried." 
 
 He beamed on the child, "Come along, Sonny." 
 
 The boy shrank back, clung to the girl, who clutched the 
 thin little hand and looked about her desperately. Her eyes 
 swept over strange faces, rough-looking men, then, like an 
 animal at bay, she ran to the waitiug-room with the child, 
 and slammed the door violently. Walton stared at the 
 closed door, then at the valise in his hand. 
 
 The listeners outside heard hysterical sobs, and the 
 soothing voice of Mrs. Green, the agent's wife. Walton, 
 pale with rage, glared at the grinning faces about him, 
 drew himself up, entered the waiting-room and closed the 
 door behind him with a bang. The mingled sounds of a 
 girl's sobs, a woman's angry tones, Walton's voice in cres- 
 cendo notes, then the door opened and he dashed out, scat- 
 tering those who obstructed his wildly waving arms, and 
 stopping at the door of Dunning 's shop. It was closed. A 
 notice hung on the door. "OUT OF TOWN." 
 
 Walton hurried to the bar-room of the Willcox Hotel. 
 His face was aflame with rage; the hand he rested on the 
 bar was shaking as though with palsy. The occupants of 
 the room grinned at him. 
 
 "Them the latest style in whiskers?" joked the bartender, 
 winking at another man. 
 
 "Mind your own affairs and give me a glass," ordered 
 Walton. 
 
 Purposely misunderstanding him, the barkeeper held out 
 a glass of liquor and said, "You seem a leetle nervous, 
 Walton." 
 
 The glass was struck to the counter. Walton screamed in 
 maniacal fury, "A looking-glass is what I want, you dog- 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 83 
 
 gone idiot! I want to gaze on my 'seraphic countenance ' 
 that seems to paralyze everybody. Look like the 'green 
 fields of Virginia/ do I? 'Rent me out during a drouth,' 
 will they? Where's a glass?" 
 
 "Keep calm, Walton, here's one;" the bartender handed 
 out a small mirror. 
 
 Silently Walton gazed at hair and beard of vivid emerald 
 green. The venomous glitter of his eyes was like that of 
 an angry rattlesnake. He laid the glass down and spoke 
 with a voice that was quiet, but deadly. 
 
 "Some one put Dunning up to this, and I'll find out who 
 it was, before I get through." He flung out of the place 
 and the men in the room glanced at one another. They 
 knew that some day, somebody would pay. Walton was a 
 man whose debts of personal animus, never outlawed by 
 time, were sure to be settled in full with compound inter- 
 est. 
 
CHAPTER NINE 
 
 4 *A I ^HE boys don't mean no harm, but it jest seems 
 §} they can't come to town without things hap- 
 1 penin' when they mix in," Limber had said 
 when he parted from Powell. 
 
 The cowpuncher went to the corral, mounted his pony and 
 rode down the railroad track to the shipping pens. The 
 cattle were in good shape, gates fastened securely. No 
 matter what the short-comings of the boys of the Diamond 
 H, they never slighted any detail of the work; but Limber 
 felt the responsibility of it all. 
 
 When Peanut was properly cared for, his master ambled 
 carelessly along the street until he reached the swinging 
 doors of the bar-room of the Willcox Hotel. 
 
 "Any of my outfit here?" he asked the man behind the 
 bar. "I jest got in from Hot Springs with Doctor 
 Powell." 
 
 A number of men in the place called to him, others 
 came nearer Limber and held out hands, and he was the 
 centre of a small group when he uttered his next words. 
 
 "The Apaches killed ol' Doctor King last night in the 
 Hot Springs Canon below the Circle Cross. We jest brung 
 in his body for the Coroner." 
 
 Exclamations of sincere regret were voiced by his hear- 
 ers, for each of them could recall little acts of kindliness 
 to himself or to some one he knew. Limber was plied 
 with questions, and gave the meagre details, but he did 
 not speak of the narrow escape of Mrs. Glendon and her 
 child. 
 
 Comments were interrupted as the doors swung back 
 
 84 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 85 
 
 once more. Bronco, Holy and Roarer stood bunched to- 
 gether and surveyed the assemblage with brooding eyes. 
 Then, they saw Limber. Their solemn countenances light- 
 ened, and Bronco grasped the foreman's arm, leading him 
 to a table at the rear of the room, where they all slumped 
 into chairs. Limber studied each face. 
 
 "Well, what have you done this time?" he asked in a 
 resigned voice. 
 
 "Say, Limber, we're in a hell of a mess," confessed 
 Bronco abjectly. The other two punchers confirmed the 
 assertion by silence. "We was waitin' for you to get us 
 straightened out, someway." 
 
 Limber made no comment until the situation had been 
 fully explained, but his eyes were anxious and his lips 
 harboured no smile. 
 
 "It ain't a question now of how we got into it," he fin- 
 ally said, assuming the onus of the episode with the cul- 
 prits, as a matter of course. 
 
 They had slept side by side in their blankets, bunkhouse 
 and range ; had shared chuck and tobacco, storms and fair 
 weather, and, if necessary, each would have used his last 
 cartridge in defense of the others. "The wust of it was 
 that we all promised the Boss not to stir up trouble this 
 time. It's all right about Walton; he don't count in this 
 deal, but it's damn tough on the woman. I don't know 
 what to do about it." 
 
 "Gosh! Limber, we've got to fix it up — someway," 
 Bronco's tones were desperate. "If we don't, the whole 
 bunch of women in this yer town will be on the war-path 
 after our scalps, and the Diamond H outfit will be huntin' 
 new ranges. You kin lick a man if he gits fresh and sassy, 
 but when a petticoat goes on the rampage, the only thing 
 a feller kin do is cut and run." 
 
 "It's because a woman is mixed in it that I'm bothered," 
 Limber went on. "You boys know the Boss will stand for 
 pretty near anythin', so long's thar ain't women in it. 
 He's been pretty plain about that, and it's the one thing 
 
86 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 hell fire the whole bunch for. It's the worst mix-up we 
 ever got into." 
 
 The foreman looked at the floor, and the other men looked 
 at him. Limber knew he must either tell the truth and 
 clear himself in the eyes of Traynor, or remain silent and 
 take the blame with the others; even though this might 
 mean losing his job as foreman of the Diamond H. His 
 admiration for Traynor was deep and sincere. It hurt to 
 lose Traynor 's faith in him. 
 
 ''We're sure all down and out/' Holy's voice was lugu- 
 brious, and he let the cigarette he had made, fall un- 
 lighted on the table. 
 
 "I jest felt that if you were turned loose on the range 
 today that you would stampede. I didn't figure you'd get 
 here so quick with the cattle, and, the trouble about King 
 kept me back. I wisht I'd got here sooner, so's to round 
 you up before any damage was done. What started you, 
 anyway, Holy?" 
 
 ' ' I thought it was a fake picter Walton showed me, until 
 I seen the woman get off'n the train," responded Holy 
 feebly. "Thar's a Kid, too. 'Bout five or six years old. 
 Kinder peaked and sickly and scarey." 
 
 A long, low whistle was Limber's only comment on this 
 additional complication. 
 
 ''She looks young to have a Kid that big," Bronco put 
 in, "But, then you can't look inter a woman's mouth to 
 tell her age, like it was a horse." 
 
 Limber's meditations covered many moments, but neither 
 Bronco, Roarer nor Holy interrupted his thoughts. At 
 last he looked up, and they leaned across the table hope- 
 fully. 
 
 "Thar don't seem anythin' to do exceptin' ask Mrs. 
 Green to help us figure it out," was his decision. 
 
 "Gee! That's just the medicine!" agreed the rest with 
 alacrity, nodding at each other in happy approval. "You 
 kin sure fix it up with her, Limber," was Holy's verdict. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 87 
 
 Limber's grey eyes were sombre as he contemplated the 
 relieved faces. 
 
 "Yep!" he said positively, rising as he spoke, "It's the 
 only thing to do. Come along." 
 
 Consternation eclipsed the smiles; none of them got up 
 from their chairs. Limber looked at them, then said, 
 "Come along." 
 
 Slowly the chairs were pushed back with a loud rasping 
 noise; slowly the sombreros were transferred from wooden 
 pegs above the table to the heads of the three cowpunchers ; 
 slowly the spurred feet moved toward the door, passed drag- 
 gingly through, it, and trailed meekly behind Limber until 
 he reached the rooms above the depot, occupied by the 
 Agent and his wife. Limber knocked. The cowboys' 
 hearts were thumping more loudly than Limber's knuckles, 
 it seemed to them. 
 
 The door opened, they did not look up, but the feminine 
 voice that bade them enter, sounded ominous. With eyes 
 still downcast, and hats in hands, they followed Limber's 
 heels. They saw nothing else in that room except the 
 rugs on the floor. Then Limber's voice broke the deadly 
 silence. 
 
 "The boys say they've got into more trouble on the 
 range, Mrs. Green," Limber said soberly. 
 
 "I should say they have," she retorted vehemently. 
 "They ought to be ashamed of themselves, putting a woman 
 in such a position in a strange place! Making her the 
 laughing stock of the whole country! She's been crying 
 her eyes out, ever since she got here. And, you almost 
 frightened the boy to death with your idiot ideas of fun! 
 It takes a big brain to do those things ! ' ' she paused breath- 
 lessly to look at them with flashing eyes. 
 
 Not one of the Diamond H boys would have hesitated at 
 any danger, but now, their one desire was to scurry 
 ignominiously down stairs and hit the home trail without 
 delay. They cast longing eyes at the door that led to 
 
88 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 freedom and safety. It was closed. Between them and it 
 stood an angry woman. 
 
 "We came to you because we all are stampeded, Mrs. 
 Green," pleaded Limber, and the men, hearing the in- 
 criminating pronoun, swore allegiance to Limber for the 
 rest of their lives. "Can't you get us headed right, some- 
 how?" 
 
 Mollified, she answered, "What had you thought of do- 
 ing?" 
 
 No one had thought of anything, but they were all loathe 
 to admit it, so each one cudgelled his brains vigorously. 
 
 "Say, so long as we busted up the weddin'," gasped 
 Bronco, "we'll chip in and refund her fare — ship her back 
 in a box car — I mean — pay her way to whar she come from. 
 Won't we, boys?" 
 
 "Sure!" was the chorus. 
 
 Now that the ice had been broken, the situation was less 
 strained. 
 
 "Derned — hanged — ! Oh, say, Mrs. Green! We'll do 
 any damned thing you say, to put an end to this yer dog- 
 gone millin';" floundered Holy, struggling to be intelligi- 
 ble without profanity. "We never figgered it would buf- 
 falo no one but ol' Walton, and to Hell — Oh, shucks! I 
 mean he don't count noways!" 
 
 Holy paused and wiped his perspiring face with a red 
 cotton handkerchief that was not more vivid than his own 
 complexion. His effort had been heroic. Mrs. Green rec- 
 ognized it, and her smile refused to be suppressed longer. 
 A dimple sneaked into her cheek. The boys breathed more 
 freely. Dimples didn't frighten them very badly, unless 
 one of them was alone with it. 
 
 "Sit down," suggested Mrs. Green, "and let's talk it 
 over together. Maybe we can work out the trouble." 
 
 Roarer, Bronco and Holy deposited themselves cau- 
 tiously on edges of chairs, their huge hands hanging pa- 
 thetically helpless between their leather-clad knees. Their 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 89 
 
 hats decorated the floor and they were conscious of tousled 
 heads. 
 
 "You see it all came through the child being delicate. 
 Lung trouble, the doctor said, and Arizona the only hope. ' ' 
 
 "He sure does look peaked," Bronco hastened to agree. 
 If Mrs. Green had said the King of England was hiding in 
 the kitchen pantry at that moment, Bronco would have 
 backed that statement with his very life. 
 
 "Her folks are all dead," continued the Agent's wife, 
 "and she has been supporting the child. It took all the 
 money she had saved, to get here. ' ' 
 
 "That's tough luck," commented Roarer with a squeak 
 of emotion. Then startled at the sound of his own voice, 
 he subsided. 
 
 "She has got to stay in Arizona on account of the child's 
 health," Mrs. Green explained. "Walton answered her 
 advertisement asking for a place where she could work in 
 return for board for herself and the child. Nobody else 
 answered her. Then he proposed marriage, and she agreed. 
 She says the boy means more to her than her own life." 
 
 "Well, if she wants to marry Walton," Limber vol- 
 unteered, "we'll rope him and get her brand on him before 
 you can wink, and you tell her so for us. But, I don't 
 know but we'd be handin' her a worse deal than the fust 
 time." 
 
 "I told her what kind of a man he was. She never wants 
 to see him again," Mrs. Green's voice was sharp, hope 
 seemed to die in the breasts of the four men. 
 
 "Well," Roarer's tones rose shrilly in his excitement and 
 
 ervousness, "Do you think any of us 'd do in place of 
 
 ol' Walton? Seems to be up to one of us to make good. 
 
 Of course, Limber ain 't in on this deal ; but the rest of us 
 
 is, ain't we, boys?" 
 
 Weakly the rest assented. With deliberate cruelty Mrs. 
 Green critically surveyed each candidate for matrimonial 
 honours. Her eyes roved slowly from their heads to their 
 
90 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 boots, while their ears grew red, feet shuffled uneasily and 
 mouths were compressed grimly. Cost what it might, the 
 boys of the Diamond H were going to see the trouble 
 straightened out. The clock measured two minutes, but it 
 seemed two hours to those under inspection. 
 
 "I don't believe that would be the remedy," she con- 
 cluded. The men sighed with unconcealed relief, and each 
 registered a vow to get even with Roarer later on. It 
 had been a close shave. The agony would never be forgot- 
 ten. 
 
 "I think she had better stay with me until she finds 
 work," offered the Agent's wife. "She can help me about 
 the place, and I've got some sewing I want to finish 
 up. Then, you know, I have to help Jack a good bit down 
 in the office. Meantime, she could be prospecting for a 
 place that would suit her. She understands housekeeping, 
 cooking and has been employed in office work. So it won't 
 be long before some one will snap her up, out here." 
 
 Limber nodded and said gratefully, "We sure are much 
 obliged to you, Mrs. Green," then his hand was thrust into 
 a hip pocket. Had Mrs. Green been a man, she might have 
 been alarmed at the movement, but the hand came out 
 clutching crumpled greenbacks. "It's up to the Diamond 
 H outfit to look out for her till she gets on her feet good 
 and square, and we'll sure be proud to do it." 
 
 "With hasty awkwardness Holy, Roarer and Bronco added 
 to the donation Limber laid on the table, glad there was 
 something at last that could be done. 
 
 " I 'm sure we can get things straightened out before long, 
 some way, and I '11 do all I can to help her and you, too ; " 
 promised the woman. 
 
 "I'll talk it over with the Boss when we get home," 
 suggested Limber. 
 
 The other men looked at him quickly, but after they said 
 "good-bye" to Mrs. Green, Limber parted from them. 
 They sat side by side on a wooden, backless bench in front 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 91 
 
 of the Willeox Hotel, and discussed the situation with its 
 new angles. 
 
 " Limber ain't to blame, and we're goin' to let the Boss 
 know it, too — and then we'll take our medicine like little 
 men," was Bronco's ultimatum, which was endorsed by 
 Holy and Roarer; but their hearts were heavy at the pros- 
 pect of being "fired" by the Boss of the Diamond H. No 
 other ranch, or Boss, or foreman would ever be the same 
 to them. 
 
CHAPTER TEN 
 
 LIMBER started the boys to the ranch at dawn, to 
 make sure they would be safe while he and Doctor 
 Powell attended the inquest over King's body. 
 
 Holy, Bronco and Roarer reached the Diamond H with- 
 out adventure, and after earing for their ponies, grouped 
 in the office at the end of the court-yard, waiting Traynor's 
 advent. 
 
 One comprehensive glance told him that something had 
 happened. ' ' Trouble ' ' was written in capital letters across 
 each face. The Boss seated himself at his desk, looked up 
 and said, ' ' What 's the matter, boys ? Been fined for shoot- 
 ing up the town again ? ' ' 
 
 1 ' Gee ! I wisht it was that, ' ' groaned Bronco, as he 
 dropped astride a chair with his arms draped over the 
 back. 
 
 ''Any of you killed any one?" the voice was more serious 
 now. 
 
 "Nope! It's our funeral this time," squeaked Roarer's 
 falsetto. 
 
 Traynor twisted about and looked apprehensively at 
 them all. "Great guns! You haven't all gone and gotten 
 married, have you?" 
 
 "It's worser'n that," Holy's sepulchral accents boomed, 
 "This yer damn fool outfit has been an' busted up a wed- 
 din ' ! That 's all we done this time ! ' ' 
 
 The worst was over. The men relaxed and waited the 
 effect of their news. 
 
 "Well, go ahead. Tell the rest," ordered Traynor 
 curtly, with knit eyebrows. 
 
 92 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 93 
 
 Interspersed with interruptions, interjections and ges- 
 tures, the three managed to acquaint the Boss with the 
 situation. When their story ended, he said very sternly, 
 "You boys know that I am always ready to stand by you, 
 but I gave you all fair warning when I hired you, that if 
 you got into any trouble or mix-up with a woman, it would 
 mean your time. I certainly never anticipated such a 
 scrape as this. I'm disgusted with you all!" 
 
 "We knowed that before you said it," Bronco agreed 
 meekly, "but what we want to make plain is — we don't 
 want Limber to get any blame for what we done. He 
 wasn't in town when we busted loose. But Limber's liable 
 to tell you jest as if he was right thar hisself." 
 
 "You say the woman is looking for ranch work?" 
 
 "That's what Mrs. Green told us," was Bronco's reply, 
 reinforced by nods from the other two men. ''Says she 
 can cook an' keep house and sew an' work in a orfiee, an* 
 Mrs. Green says she can stay thar until they find work for 
 her, somewhars." 
 
 Traynor sat looking thoughtfully at the paper-knife he 
 held in his hand. The eyes of the cowpunchers also stared 
 at the paper-knife, as though hoping it would solve their 
 problem. The knife dropped on the desk and Traynor 
 looked up. 
 
 "I'll write to Mrs. Green and tell her that if the woman 
 wants to bring her child and come here to supervise the 
 house, I will pay her seventy-five dollars and board her and 
 the boy. Fong is kicking because he doesn't like the house- 
 work, and if I get a Mexican woman to come, there's got 
 to be some one to oversee her. This is the only daylight I 
 ian see in the muddle you have made of things." 
 
 'Say, Mr. Traynor," Bronco leaned over the desk and 
 spoke earnestly, "You tell her to say we're ready to lay 
 down in the corral and let her put her iron on us without 
 a squeal." 
 
 "An' we're all halter-broke, gentle and trained to feed 
 from the hand," piped Eoarer over Bronco's shoulder. 
 
94 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Holy joined them. "If she don't find things pan out 
 ]ike she wants 'em, anytime, all she's got to do is chaw the 
 rag and cuss, an' you bet your sweet life this yer outfit will 
 see that she gets things her own way." 
 
 Bronco and Roarer nodded vehemently, and Holy waxed 
 more eloquent. "Tell Mrs. Green if she acts like she's 
 goin' to buck, to talk her into tryin' us out. You know, 
 we're a Hell of a sight better'n we look or act, Mr. Traynor. 
 I'll promise to put hobbles on the damn cuss words the 
 minute she gits here." 
 
 "All right, boys. I'll do what I can," promised Tray- 
 nor. With hopeful expressions they trailed through the 
 door, but halted as he called, "What's her name?" 
 
 "Mrs. — Mrs. — ," began Bronco confidently, then as he 
 saw the shaking heads, he finished, "Denied if we know. 
 None of us ever ast. We'd make fine cowpasture! We're 
 so fresh and green!" his confession wound up in disgust. 
 
 Left alone, Traynor wrote briefly to the wife of the Sta- 
 tion Agent at Willcox. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Green: 
 
 I understand that the lady who is with you is looking for 
 employment on a ranch. I would be glad to have her 
 assume charge of the house-keeping at the Diamond H. 
 
 There will be no menial labour. A Chinaman does the 
 cooking and washing, and I will employ a Mexican woman 
 for the housework. A little assistance on the ranch books 
 would be of great value to me. 
 
 I will pay seventy-five dollars a month, with room and 
 board for her and the child. 
 
 If satisfactory, will you write me by next stage, and I 
 will send down for her and her baggage. 
 
 Kindly state that I regret the pranks of the boys, and 
 hope it has not caused any serious annoyance to you or her. 
 They wish to make amends in any manner possible. Their 
 contrition is sincere, and so are my apologies. 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 The Unfortunate Boss of the Diamond H. 
 
X 
 
 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 95 
 
 Traynor smiled as he signed the letter, knowing that Mrs. 
 Green and her husband would appreciate the humour of 
 the situation that forced the Boss of the Diamond H to 
 employ a woman for the first time on the ranch. He also 
 sighed, as he realized it would mean readjustment in many 
 ways. But, he was resigned, and the men could not kick 
 at conditions for w r hich they were responsible. It would 
 be a relief, though, to have some one else arrange the list 
 of provisions when necessary, plan menus, and order new 
 sheets and towels as needed. 
 
 The letter was delivered to the stage-driver Monday, and 
 an answer could be expected on Thursday when the stage 
 returned from Willcox. So when Limber and Powell 
 reached the ranch that evening, the dark cloud had a lovely 
 silver edge that promised a similar lining. 
 
 Thursday morning Traynor and Doctor Powell rode to 
 the Cienega Ranch, four miles north of the Diamond H. 
 The Cienega, named because of the marsh formed by under 
 ground water, was one of the many smaller watering places 
 belonging to the Diamond II. A man usually stayed at 
 these points to see that the ponds and troughs were kept in 
 shape for cattle to water. The idea of using gasoline en- 
 gines instead of the orthodox Perkins windmills, w T as an 
 innovation of Traynor 's. 
 
 Limber and the boys were working on the pasture fences 
 near the ranch house, when the stage from Willcox passed. 
 They looked at it speculatively from the other side of the 
 eld. 
 
 " Wonder if she's wrote that she'll come?" Bronco's 
 audible question voiced the thoughts of the others ; but only 
 the return of the Boss could answer that query. 
 
 At noon the men dismounted in the stable just as the 
 bell that hung outside the door of the men's kitchen rang 
 loud and long. No time was lost in responding to the sum- 
 mons. It was music in their ears after a long morning in 
 the invigourating air, augmented by hard work. Fong's 
 cooking was famous throughout Southern Arizona. 
 
96 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Lunch over, they sat peacefully side by side on the 
 wooden bench against the wall of the stable, enjoying the 
 inevitable wheat straw and Durham cigarette, as necessary 
 as a pony to any Arizona puncher. Fong appeared at the 
 door of the men's kitchen, looked across at the group, then 
 ambled over and adressed the foreman. 
 
 "Bloss no dome home for lunch, maybe. I clatchee 
 lunch in Bloss 's dining-loom or I clatchee lunch in chuck- 
 house for lady and lily bloy?" 
 
 The men started. 
 
 "What lady?" demanded Limber, with dire foreboding. 
 
 "Lady dome on stage. Lily bloy dome, allee samee. 
 Glo in parlour." 
 
 "Good Lord!" ejaculated Bronco. "She ain't writ, she 
 come ! An' yer's the Boss and Doctor Powell gone off and 
 left us all alone ! ' ' 
 
 Fong's grin of comprehension was irritating, and Limber 
 ordered, "Fix lunch in the Boss's dining-room, and fix a 
 good one while you're about it, too." 
 
 The Chinaman hurried to obey. He had made a scien- 
 tific study of Limber's face and voice. Fong liked the 
 work at the Diamond H ; he also like the generous wages and 
 not having to skimp in anyway. 
 
 Limber turned to the rest. "Well, I guess it's up to us 
 to go in and squar things with her, ' ' he announced. i ' She's 
 been sitting thar for two hours now, an' nobody gone near 
 her. Darn that Chink, anyway! Come along, boys." 
 
 Anxious to make amends for their many sins of commis- 
 sion and omission, they clanked with spurred heels along the 
 cement walk of the court and followed Limber into the 
 living-room of the ranch. Then they stopped, bunched in 
 the doorway. 
 
 A slender figure, with rippling brown hair, was huddled 
 forlornly in a big chair, asleep. The flushed cheeks bore 
 traces of recent tears. Hat, gloves and a child's cap were 
 in her lap, a suit-case on the floor beside the chair, as though 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 97 
 
 in readiness for departure. On the couch was the boy; but 
 his eyes were wide open. 
 
 As he saw the four cowpunchers in the doorway, he 
 shrank back timidly and reached out his thin hand. The 
 girl woke instantly. She did not see the men until, as they 
 advanced into the room, Holy's foot collided with the leg 
 of a chair, and he suppressed an ejaculation. The girl 
 flushed with embarrassment as she faced the four cowpunch- 
 ers of the Diamond H. 
 
 None of them spoke. She rose to her feet and looked 
 from one to the other, uncertain whom to address, as she 
 said, "Mrs. Green told me of your generous offer. I did 
 not wait to write, but came up on the stage this morning ; ' ' 
 her voice was low and tremulous. * ' I thank you with all my 
 heart. It means so much — to me. I — will do — my very 
 best to please you all, ' ' her last words came with a rush. 
 
 No answer was made by the four ominous figures con- 
 fronting her. An expression of fear crept into the blue 
 eyes that dimmed with tears. Her hands went out in ap- 
 peal. 
 
 "Please, please, don't say that I won't suit you. I am 
 a great deal stronger than I look, and I 'm not afraid of 
 hard work. Jamie," her arm went about the child at her 
 side, "won't bother any one," the pitiful catch in her 
 voice seemed to grip the throat of each man, and the 
 words they wanted to utter refused to make a sound. The 
 girl read the pity in Limber's grey eyes, then the fore- 
 man smiled at her and said in his quiet, kindly voice; 
 "Thar ain't no reason for you to worry. We was jest 
 scairt that you wouldn't want to stay. That's all. We 
 didn't know you was here till Fong told us jest now. He's 
 fixin' lunch for you. I'm jest Limber, the foreman." He 
 turned and indicated the other punchers who were trying 
 to smile naturally, but making a terrible contortion of 
 facial muscles. "This is Bronco, and Roarer an' Holy, 
 and we 're the Diamond H outfit. ' ' 
 
98 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Awkwardly the men advanced and held out calloused 
 hands, but the grip was a pledge of fealty, and the girl 
 looked gratefully into their eyes. 
 
 Then Limber happened to note Traynor standing in the 
 open doorway back of the girl, and relief shown plainly 
 in the foreman's face as he said, "Thar's the Boss, now." 
 
 She whirled sharply, like a tormented creature at bay, 
 sensing a new enemy. Traynor 's face was drawn and white 
 through its tan. Unmindful of the men, his hands reached 
 out. The girl stared incredulously. Then the tension was 
 broken by their two voices : 
 
 "Nell!" 
 
 "Allan!" 
 
 The cowpunchers' jaws fell in astonishment, their eyes 
 popped, then with one accord they fled precipitately, jost- 
 ling each other through the doorway. Limber was the last 
 one to leave the room. He lost no time, but he saw the 
 arms of the Boss of the Diamond II holding a sobbing girl. 
 When Limber reached the stables there was only a cloud 
 of dust to show that the boys were anxious to finish up 
 very important work away from the vicinity of the ranch 
 house. 
 
 They did not know of the consultation between Traynor 
 and Limber an hour later, nor that Limber had driven 
 down to Eureka Springs, eight miles away, and returned 
 accompanied by Mrs. Burns, wife of the owner of that 
 ranch. 
 
 Just before supper the foreman found the men in the 
 bunk-house. They looked up at him with hopeless faces, 
 as he surveyed them and remarked, "Well, you sure mixed 
 things up good and plenty that time!" 
 
 "Oh, you don't have ter tell us that," retorted Bronco, 
 despairingly. "We all knowed it without anyone's help!" 
 
 "I wisht someone'd put me in a lunitic asylum for the 
 rest of my life," was Holy's disgusted announcement. 
 He stared at the whitewashed wall of the bunkroom, vision- 
 ing his possible future domicile. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 99 
 
 "We figgered we'd got it all fixed up fine, an' you know 
 it was, Limber, till the Boss butted in. How'd we know 
 that he knowed her, anyway? Well, now thngs is millin' 
 worser'n ever;" "Bronco's voice was almost unrecognizable 
 in its woe. "Say, Limber, are we all fired?" 
 
 Limber seated himself, took out his sack of tobacco and 
 papers, rolled a cigarette and lighted it, without one word. 
 His face was serious. Six mournful eyes watched him. 
 They read their fate in his silence. There was no appeal. 
 In a corner of the bunk-room three rolls of blankets were 
 stacked. Limber looked at them, but said nothing. Three 
 hands went to hip pockets. In dead silence three cigarettes 
 were made and lighted. It was a cowboy wake. Five 
 minutes went by. They smoked and sank more deeply in 
 gloom. 
 
 "Of course, we kin get jobs somewhar," Bronco spoke 
 at last. "That ain't what's troublin' me. But it's how 
 we went and made such a mix-up for the Boss, when he's 
 always been so white to us all. I can't figger how he's 
 goin' to get it straight for hisself, now!" 
 
 Limber studied the cigarette in his hand. "He said 
 thar's only one thing left that you all kin do, now." 
 
 "We knowed we was fired, Limber, "Roarer's voice was 
 a higher pitch than ever before, "You don't have to tell 
 us. Thar warn't anythin' left for him to do but fire the 
 whole bunch of us. We bin an' got our war-bags all 
 packed up and ready." 
 
 "But, we're derned sorry we made this mess for you and 
 him and the lady," Holy was now on his feet, picking up 
 a roll of blankets from the corner. He slung it over his 
 shoulder and held out his hand to the foreman. ' ' It hurts 
 like Hell to go." 
 
 Bronco and Roarer with their own rolls, lined beside 
 Holy. 
 
 "Tell the Boss 'so long' for us," was Bronco's request. 
 "And, we're damned sorry for it all." 
 
 Limber looked at the three outstretched hands, the three 
 
100 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 dejected figures with the rolls of blankets across their 
 shoulder, then said, "He told me that the only way you 
 boys kin squar things is for the whole outfit to meet him 
 tomorrow night at Mrs. Green's place at eight o'clock." 
 
 "What fur?" they three inquired in startled tones, as 
 their hands fell weakly at their sides. 
 
 "Well," drawled Limber, as a twinkle lit up his eyes and 
 his mouth twitched with a smile, "Thar's goin' to be a 
 weddin'! The Boss says that the only thing left for him 
 to do with you boys, is to let the little Lady run this yer 
 outfit and keep it straight! He owns up it's too much of 
 a job for him to handle ! ' ' 
 
 Three rolls of blankets dropped with dull thuds to the 
 bare floor. Three wild yells broke the quiet air, then with 
 arms intertwined about each other 's shoulders, they formed 
 a circle and indulged in an Apache war-dance. A smile 
 that was almost paternal illuminated Limber's face as he 
 watched them. 
 
 When the exuberance had subsided a bit, and they had 
 finished ejaculating and slapping each other on the back, 
 Bronco turned to Limber. 
 
 1 1 Say, Limber, this is the wust mix-up of all ! Here 
 we go and stampeded the heifer what Walton figgered on 
 ropin' for hisself, and she turns an busts into the home 
 corral with the Diamond H brand on her ! Can you beat 
 it?" 
 
 No one answered. 
 
 The clamour of the supper bell brought them to their 
 feet once more, and they hurried to the chuck-house, 
 talking as fast as they could. All talked at once; no one 
 replied or listened, but it was a happy , bunch of cow- 
 punchers that slid along the wooden bench at the supper- 
 table that night. 
 
 Back on the floor of the bunk-house lay three rolls of 
 blankets waiting for the men to stumble over them in the 
 dark. 
 
CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 UNUSUAL excitement was evident in the Willcox 
 Hotel, as the cowpunchers of the Diamond H 
 rushed in with mysterious packages which after- 
 wards developed into conventional attire. They had ridden 
 to town early in the afternoon, Saturday, the day the 
 wedding of the Boss was to take place. 
 
 Confusion reigned in their small room. Roarer danced 
 around, struggling to fasten a collar, his face becoming 
 apoplectic; while Holy, with his entire vocabulary and 
 muscular strength, was coaxing his feet into patent leather 
 shoes a size too small. When his frantic efforts culminated 
 in a broken loop-strap, it left him, for once in his life, 
 speechless. 
 
 Before a bilious mirror, Limber plastered his hair down 
 rigidly with a stick of barber's cosmetique, recommended 
 by the bar-tender; and Bronco stood ruefully contemplat- 
 ing four enormous pairs of white kid gloves reposing in a 
 long row on the bed. 
 
 "I don't balk at toggin' up swell for the Boss's weddin'," 
 came in a gasp from Roarer as he clutched at his throat, 
 "but derned if I see why the feller what invented collar- 
 buttons and biled shirts wasn 't lynched for his fust offense. 
 Doggone the beastly little contraption, anyhow!" 
 
 The others regarded him sympathetically, for they, too, 
 had struggled, as the numerous twisted, soiled collars about 
 the room testified; even those now decorating their brown 
 throats showed marks of desperate fray. 
 
 "I've spiled seven collars and busted five collar buttons 
 already," groaned Roarer, pausing in his struggle. "Oh, 
 
 101 
 
102 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Lord! Where did that thing go. Any one see it? It's 
 wnsser 'n a flea the way it lit out." 
 
 They grasped his meaning. Each had recently been on 
 a voyage of discovery for other collar buttons. 
 
 "Mebbe it's under the bed," suggested Holy, trying to 
 balance himself and walk in the tight shoes. He paused, 
 standing like a gigantic stork on one foot. "Mine rolled 
 under the bed." 
 
 Roarer fell to his knees and groped without avail, then 
 crawled out on all fours, gazing up disconsolately into the 
 faces of the other men. "Not a hair nor a hide of it," he 
 puffed, still on his knees. "That's the last one we had, 
 and what's wust, thar ain't no more collar-buttons in the 
 whole blamed town. Everyone's been buyin' 'em this 
 afternoon. ' 
 
 "Well, it couldn't get outen the room;" consoled 
 Limber, whose toilet was finished before the others, because 
 he had had the foresight to enlist the services of a clerk 
 in Soto's store, and after buying a shirt, collar and tie, 
 the two had retired to a small back room. Hence, Limber 
 had emerged victorious and unruffled, but his sympathies 
 were with the other punchers. 
 
 "They say collar-buttons take to a bureau if the bed 
 don't suit 'em," he suggested. "Suppose you start a 
 round-up on that range, Roarer. I'd like to help you out, 
 but this collar checks me up too high." 
 
 Inspired by the idea, Roarer assumed his devotional 
 attitude and clawed wildly. Something gave way, and he 
 emerged precipitately. 
 
 "I got her," he triumphed, "but something busted — 
 What was it?" he supplemented with an anxious glance 
 over his shoulder. 
 
 The others surrounded him. 
 
 ' ' Suspender, ' ' reported Limber. ' ' Button 's busted off 'n 
 your trousers." 
 
 "Much damage?" he inquired of the investigating com- 
 mittee, which continued looking him over. 
 
THE LON.G DIM TRAIL 103 
 
 "Nothin' but what can be fixed up wth a pin," was 
 Bronco's decision. ''Any one got a pin?" 
 
 They shook their heads. It was a pinless crowd, but a 
 brilliant idea struck Holy, who delved into the pockets of 
 his discarded leather chaps and produced a horse-shoe nail. 
 Drawing a piece of the trouser cloth through the button- 
 hole of the suspended flap, he thrust the nail in dexterously. 
 
 1 ' Thar you are, ' ' he pronounced cheerfully. 
 
 "Say, Holy, you're a wonder!" flattered Roarer obse- 
 quiously. 
 
 Holy grinned at him and demanded, "What do you 
 want me to do for you ? ' ' 
 
 Roarer's childish accents pleaded, "Can't you help me 
 get into this collar? It's the only one we got left that's 
 fitten to put on, and it ain't big enough for this shirt, nor 
 me, neither, but I 've got to get into it somehow. ' ' 
 
 Holy inspected the dilemma. "I'll go see if I kin find 
 something," he said vaguely as he left the room. In a few 
 minutes he returned. 
 
 "I got a button-hook off'n the chambermaid. We can 
 fix it up now ! ' ' 
 
 Surrounded by an admiring group, he grasped the collar 
 band of Roarer's shirt, thrust the button-hook through the 
 button-hole of the collar and gave a vigorous twist. 
 
 An agonized squeal, like a dying pig, assaulted the air and 
 Roarer retreated rapidly with the button-hook hanging to 
 the collar, while he rubbed the prominent bone in his 
 throat that had interfered with the adjustment. 
 
 "What in thunder do you think you're doin'?" he 
 piped, glaring at Holy. "Looks like you was figgerin' to 
 make cider outen my Adam's apple, the way you squoze." 
 
 "Well, I done the best I knowed how," defended Holy. 
 "That's the way things goes. I pulled an ol' Bar Z 
 cow outen the mud, and the fust thing the durned cow done 
 was to make a bee-line for me whilst I had my back to her 
 a cinchin' my saddle. She spiled the only pair of 
 trousers I owned, and then went back into the mudhole 
 
104 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 and died. Thar's a heap of human nature in cows, and 
 heaps of cow nature in humans ! Here's the button-hook." 
 Holy rescued it from the floor where it had dropped as 
 Roarer massaged his throat. "You dig yourself outen 
 your own mud-hold. I'm done!" 
 
 He limped painfully across the room and dropped into a 
 chair, the picture of disgust, and watched with fishy eye 
 as Roarer plied the button-hook until the collar succumbed. 
 
 The agony was almost over, but the four pairs of gloves 
 promised further trouble. 
 
 "Say, Bronc," insinuated Roarer as he contemplated 
 the bed, "Couldn't a feller go without wearin' these derned 
 things? Suppose we just put 'em in the outside pockets 
 of our coats and let the fingers hang out, to show we got 
 'em?" 
 
 "No, sirree!" vetoed Bronco emphatically, in the self- 
 assumed role of social adviser. "There ain't nothin' too 
 good for the Boss ; and the boys down to the store told me 
 that white kid gloves has got to be wore at weddin's. So 
 them gloves has got to go on, if it busts us flat!" 
 
 With looks of grim determinaton and the spirit that 
 inspired the 'noble Six Hundred,' they swooped down on 
 the gloves. Appropriating a pair, each man settled him- 
 self on a chair. The room was silent. Moments passed 
 unheeded. Four struggling cowpunchers sat in four creak- 
 ing chairs and laboured until four pairs of huge hands 
 were encased in bedraggled white kid gloves, which the 
 owners surveyed with triumph. 
 
 "They squinch," announced Holy, closing his hand 
 convulsively, "but they'll stretch if you work 'em a bit." 
 
 There was an ominous sound, and a look of consterna- 
 tion on Holy's face as he gazed at the split glove on his 
 left hand. 
 
 "Now, you'll have to get another pair," commanded 
 Bronco. 
 
 "Hanged if I will," retorted Holy, rebelling at the pros- 
 pect of repeating his experience. 
 
t 
 
 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 105 
 
 "Then you got to remember to keep your hand shet up," 
 compromised Bronco. "Lucky it's the left hand, because 
 we all got to shake hands with the bride and the minister 
 you know." 
 
 "Say, Bronc, are you sure about the minister?" asked 
 Limber dubiously. 
 
 "You bet! You see it's this way," elucidated Bronco. 
 "The groom is in luck to get the girl, ain't he? So you 
 shake hands with him. The girl's lucky to get married, 
 ain 't she, stead of dyin ' an old maid ? So you shake hands 
 with her ; and the minister is the luckiest one of the bunch, 
 because he gets paid for marryin' them and he don't take 
 no chances on havin' trouble afterwards. That's why you 
 have to shake hands with the minister." 
 
 No one disputed the logic. 
 
 "People makes me think of flies in cold weather when 
 it comes to gettin' married," reflected Limber audibly. 
 "The flies that's outside the window keep tryin' to get in, 
 and them that's inside keep workin' for all they're wuth 
 to get out. Looks like they're just bound to be miserable 
 either way." 
 
 "I knowed a feller down in Texas had two dogs named 
 David and Jonathan," said Bronco. "Wherever you seen 
 one dog the other was right along side of him, like his 
 shadder. You jest couldn't keep 'em apart. One day some 
 smart geezer seen 'em sleepin' peaceful an' ca'm, side by 
 each, and tied one of David's hind legs to one of Jonathan's, 
 and when them dogs woke up they blamed each other, and 
 from cussin' something awful in dog lingo, they lit in and 
 chawed hair and hide till they was pried apart. Ever 
 ince then the minute they see each other, it's just a signal 
 
 r them to start a free-for-all to a finish. The way them 
 two dogs has soured on each other is a caution. ' ' 
 
 "What's that got to do with gettin' married?" de- 
 manded Holy with a snort? 
 
 Bronco gazed at him a few seconds before he answered, 
 "Well there's lots of folks that would be good friends all 
 
106 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 their lives if they didn't hunt up a minister to marry 'em 
 and give 'em the right to scrap till they die. When David 
 and Jonathan got too serious, somebody got a club. But 
 if you find a man and his wife scrappin' and you try to 
 ca'm them, they both turn and pitch into you for meddiin' 
 with their family pleasures." 
 
 Limber took out his watch and announced it was time to 
 start, and Bronco, after a final survey of his charges, led 
 the procession from the chamber of torture. They crossed 
 the street, holding their hands stiffly at their sides, while 
 each gloved finger stood out separately, like an individual 
 Declaration of Independence. 
 
 As they ascended the stairs leading to Mrs. Green's 
 rooms, Bronco whispered his last instructions, "Don't 
 forget to shake hands with the whole outfit; and you be 
 careful Holy, to keep your left hand shet." 
 
 Holy, leading the procession, halted suddenly and called 
 back to Bronco, "I thought you said we was only to shake 
 hands with the Boss and the Little Lady and the gospel- 
 shark," but as the door opened in front of them, Bronco 
 made no reply. 
 
 The room was filled with guests, and after the first wave 
 of bashfulness had receded, the Diamond H boys bunched 
 together like a herd of scared cattle. Doctor Powell crossed 
 the room and joined them, then Mrs. Green entered with 
 Jamie, the little brother of the bride. Powell smiled and 
 the child shyly edged closer, until he was lifted to the 
 doctor's knee. There was a slight confusion. Traynor 
 stepped to a space in front of the minister, and the doctor, 
 rising, consigned the child to Limber, then advanced to his 
 place beside Traynor. 
 
 The cowboys of the Diamond IT fidgeted nervously, and 
 wondered at the Boss's calm appearance, noting with 
 proprietory pride how handsome he looked and how high 
 he held his head. There was a tender smile on his lips 
 and his eyes were fixed on the door leading to the hallway. 
 
 Bronco leaned closer to Holy, whispering, "I bet he 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 107 
 
 don't even know he's got a collar on. Ain't some men 
 lucky?" 
 
 "Shet up," boomed Holy's voice treacherously, and 
 many heads turned toward them, while Holy tried to 
 efface himself behind Roarer and Bronco. 
 
 The door leading to the hall opened and Jack Green came 
 in with Nell on his arm. The women's eyes became 
 moist as they looked at the girl, and the men silently voted 
 Allan Traynor a lucky chap. Mrs. Green had dressed the 
 girl in a pretty white gown, and the real wedding veil that 
 floated about the slender form was the one that had been 
 worn ten years previous by the agent's kind-hearted wife. 
 
 Outside, a mocking bird sang in the wonderful Arizona 
 moonlight, as though it understood and sent its benison of 
 love while the solemn words were spoken. Traynor stooped 
 and kissed the girl, whose eyes looked into his with a 
 dazzling light that shone through tears, like the sun break- 
 ing through a mist. 
 
 "Till Death us do part," he repeated unsteadily. 
 
 Then Jamie was beside them, holding up his thin arms 
 to his sister, who kissed him tenderly. The boy turned 
 uncertainly to Traynor, looked up at him, and laughed 
 gayly as he was caught by the man 's strong hands and held 
 up a second, while Traynor said, "You've got a grown-up 
 brother, now, old man. ' ' 
 
 Beaming, Jamie slipped his hand into Nell's and stood 
 beside them as the guests showered congratulations on the 
 couple. 
 
 Bronco marshalled the Diamond H boys in line and 
 Traynor suppressed his inclination to laugh at the unac- 
 customed regalia of store clothes, 'biled shirts' and white 
 kid gloves, when the men held out their hands to the bride 
 and groom. 
 
 Holy, recalling Bronco's final instructions on the stair- 
 way, forgot the damaged glove in his exuberance, and 
 shook hands vigorously with everyone he could reach. 
 Then with the consciousness of duty nobly done, he sought 
 
108 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 a corner and mopped his moist forehead with a Lilliputian 
 sheet that he considered a handkerchief. Bronco edged 
 up to him, and a sudden light gleamed in Holy's eyes. 
 
 ''Say, Bronc, what the devil did you keep kickin' me 
 an' trompin' on my feet for?" he demanded indignantly. 
 "You acted like a cayuse with the stringhalt." 
 
 1 ' Stringhalt ! " grunted Bronco, "If you'd had any hoss 
 sense whatsoever, you'd knowed I was doin' my durndest 
 to get you to shet that big fist of your'n." 
 
 Holy looked down at the tattered glove that dangled in 
 dingy strings from the offending hand, then he pulled it 
 off in sections. "I hope some one will shoot the top of my 
 head off if I ever wear them damned things again. Not 
 on your life — even if the Boss was to get married every day 
 in the year for the rest of his life ! ' ' 
 
 He jerked off the other glove, wadded them together in 
 a compact ball, and deftly tossed it out the open window. 
 
 The wedding party adjourned to a feast spread in the 
 dining room of the Willcox Hotel, where toasts were given 
 and merriment continued unabated till the west-bound 
 ' Flyer' stopped at the signal, and Traynor and his bride 
 left for a couple of weeks in California, leaving Jamie with 
 Mrs. Green. 
 
 Powell boarded the train at the same time, as he had to 
 go to Tucson on business connected with his intention to 
 bid for the Hot Springs Ranch. 
 
 Bonfires had been lighted near the track, and the boys 
 fired a salute to the Boss and his bride. The coloured 
 porter darted back to the platform of the train, and looked 
 at the men with wild eyes. 
 
 "You ain't got no call to be scairt," reassured Bronco, 
 "We're jest seein' a bridal couple off, that's all." 
 
 Then the whites of the porter's eyes disappeared entirely, 
 and in the black face shone a row of gleaming teeth. 
 
 The tail-light of the train disappeared in the distance, 
 the bonfires died away, and the boys of the Diamond H, 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 109 
 
 feeling they had done things up ' good and proper, ' sought 
 their beds in the hotel. 
 
 "Gosh! I'm glad the Boss ain't a Mormon!" sighed 
 Bronco, as he dropped to sleep. The only response to his 
 remark was a chorus of snores in which he soon joined. 
 
 Out in the dusty road was a tiny ball that had once been 
 a pair of white kid gloves. 
 
CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 THE weekly stage from Willcox to Aravaipa 
 Canon, which stopped at the ranch on Mondays, 
 brought a letter to Limber from Allan Traynor, 
 instructing the foreman to meet himself and his wife upon 
 their arrival from California on Thursday. There was 
 also a note from Doctor Powell, who was still in Tucson, 
 saying that he would return to the ranch on Wednesday. 
 
 The men had just eaten lunch and were grouped about 
 the stables when Limber imparted the news to them, 
 adding, "The Boss says to slick up the big room on the 
 front porch, and we've got to hustle to get it done in time. 
 They'll be here in three days." 
 
 "Say, Limber," interrupted Bronco, who was usually 
 the ruling spirit, "Don't you think we'd oughter get a 
 wedclin' present for 'em?" 
 
 "I sure do!" endorsed Limber, "But, what kin we get? 
 If we'd had any sense among us we'd of sent off long ago 
 for somethin' proper. Mrs. Green would of knowed, but 
 it's too late now." 
 
 "Let's chip in and get some big Navajo blankets like 
 Mrs. Green's,' suggested Holy. "Looked a heap prettier 'n 
 carpets on her floor." 
 
 "Gee ! Holy, you do get an idee onct in a while." jeered 
 Bronco, whose chief delight in 14fe was to tease Holy, and, 
 like tourists who throw stones into the crater of a volcano, 
 stand by in admiration of the eruption that followed. 
 
 "Now, see here," admonished Limber, "don't you and 
 Holy get to millin'. Thar ain't no time for it." 
 
 Holy glared at Bronco, who grinned back at him and 
 murmured, "Fust blood." 
 
 Limber reverted to the letter. "It says that Mrs. 
 
 110 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 111 
 
 Traynor will have the little room off'n the big room for 
 her'n, and we'd better whitewash it." 
 
 He broke off and looked at the others, as he said, "Have 
 we got a whitewash brush that is fitten to use?" 
 
 "Whitewash your grandmother!" retorted Bronco con- 
 temptuously. "We'd oughter paper it. I seen some 
 dandy paper with pink roses stampeding all over it at the 
 Headquarter Store. Whitewash is all O.K. for cow- 
 punchers and bronco busters, but girls likes paper and — 
 and — them sorter things," he concluded hastily. 
 
 "We don't know how to do it," objected Limber, "and 
 thar ain't no paperhanger in Willcox." 
 
 "Shucks! Tairi't no trick noway," responded Bronco 
 airily. "1 11 show you. All you got ter do is get the paper 
 an' do what I tell you." 
 
 Impressed by his convincing air the quartette engaged 
 in making a list of the things Bronco considered necessary, 
 the principal items being the paper with pink roses and 
 three of 'the biggest, highest priced and reddest Navajo 
 blankets in town.' 
 
 After watching Bronco start on his mission, Limber and 
 the others saddled their ponies for the daily routine work 
 on the range, as they knew that Bronco could not get home 
 before late that night. 
 
 It was nearly midnight when Bronco rode into the stables, 
 but the entire bunch of men met him with a volley of 
 questions as he dismounted from his pony. Bursting with 
 importance, he unrolled the Navajo blankets which had 
 been tied to the back of his saddle; while the paper, care- 
 fully packed in gunny-sacks, was swung across the front 
 horn. 
 
 The men grasped the purchases and carried them to the 
 bunkhouse where they opened the sacks eagerly. The 
 blankets had been fully endorsed and admired; but when 
 Bronco, imitating the storekeeper, unrolled a sample of 
 the paper and held it up with a flourish, no words were left 
 to express their delight. 
 
112 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 1 'Now, we'll get up early tomorrow so's to tackle the 
 job and get it over," said Limber, after they had disposed 
 of the packages in the room they contemplated papering. 
 Filled with joyful anticipations they tumbled into their 
 bunks. 
 
 Bronco was the first to waken, and he roused the others 
 before daylight, despite their protests. 
 
 Roarer sat up and blinked stupidly at the lamp which 
 Bronco was lighting. 
 
 "I ain't had no sleep that was any good," he quavered 
 in his thin voice. "I was chasm' pink roses all night — they 
 had horns and tails and four legs, jest like cows, and I was 
 tryin' to rope 'em. I'm plumb played out." 
 
 His tale of woe was unheard by the others as they 
 hurriedly adjusted clothes and tumbled out of the bunk- 
 house to the ranch kitchen for breakfast. Fong, the cook, 
 was in no aimiable mood because he had to serve break- 
 fast an hour earlier than usual ; but when he learned that 
 they expected to take possession of his kitchen and sundry 
 utensils, his wrath was expressed in a wordy battle in 
 'pidgin English. He only succumbed to superior numbers 
 when he retreated to the back porch. His mutterings could 
 be heard distinctly by those in the kitchen, and Bronco 
 cocked his head on one side and listened attentively to the 
 angry cook. 
 
 " Say, Holy, I don't savvy what that year Chink is sayin', 
 but it sounds a heap worse 'n anything I ever heerd you 
 say. He 's got you beat to a frazzle. Why don 't you learn 
 Chinee? Then when your stock of cuss words gets stale 
 you can start on a new lot. ' ' 
 
 Holy's retort was cut short by Limber, who paused in 
 rolling a cigarette and observed, "You're captain of this 
 round-up, Bronco. How do you start her?" 
 
 They all gathered about Bronco as he explained the 
 process unhesitatingly. He did not divulge that he had 
 asked information at the store, regarding the preparation 
 of paper, making paste and other necessary details of 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 113 
 
 paperhanging. It had seemed so simple that he was sure 
 he could remember everything. 
 
 "Well, fust you cut the edges off'n the paper, then you 
 make a biscuit dough and thin her out and stick the paper 
 up, and thar you are ! Easy as rollin' off'n a log !" 
 
 "That's all right so long as the log ain't pinted into 
 a mudhole whar thar's a buckskin cow," murmured Holy, 
 with a side glance at Bronco. The innuendo was loftily 
 ignored, and Holy tried other tactics. 
 
 "Whar' did yon learn to paper, anyhow?" he demamded 
 suspiciously. "You never let on you knowed how until 
 last night." 
 
 "Think I'm Hasayampering ? " Bronco answered indig- 
 nantly. "I seed them paper a room down to Eureka 
 Springs three years ago. I helped them do it." He re- 
 served the elucidation that he had helped carry in a gal- 
 vanized tub, nothing more. " Mebbe you don't believe 
 me, but if any of you fellers thinks he knows more'n I do 
 about it, I'm willin' to lay back in harness and let him 
 take the lead, and yours truly won't do no kickin' over 
 the traces, neither." 
 
 As no one was disposed to dispute his authority, he con- 
 tinued in a mollified voice: 
 
 1 ' Roarer, you go get all the flour you kin find and bring 
 it here." 
 
 Roarer looked dubiously toward the back porch and 
 scratched his head, then he tiptoed to the door, peeped 
 through it, and discovering Fong had deserted the place, 
 started on his search, while Bronco issued his commands 
 to the others. 
 
 ' ' Limber, you kin chase that new whitewash brush I left 
 in the bunkhouse, and Holy can trim the edges off'n the 
 paper. Then you kin all help mix the paste when I get 
 ready. ' ' 
 
 "Does anybody know whar the shears is?" queried Holy, 
 knowing from experience that a needle in a haystack could 
 be located twenty times before the one pair of shears on 
 
114. THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 the ranch was generally found by the searcher. "Brone, 
 you had them scissors three weeks ago cuttin' Limber's 
 hair. I seed you. Whar are they?" 
 
 Bronco looked nonplussed, then asserted, "Roarer took 
 'em away from us before the job was done, and then he 
 disremembered whar he'd put 'em. Limber had to go to 
 town with one side his hair cut and Dunning finished up 
 the job." 
 
 Limber appeared with the whitewash brush, and at his 
 heels came Roarer dragging two sacks of flour. 
 
 "This is all I kin find," said Roarer. "Reckon it will 
 be enough?" 
 
 Bronco was non-committal, "I'll use it up and see how 
 fur it'll go." 
 
 "Say, Roarer, you got to find the scissors. You was 
 the last one that had 'em. "Where are they?" called Holy 
 accusingly. 
 
 Roarer stared blankly, then whirled out the door. Holy 
 sat swearing until Roarer re-appeared and exhibited the 
 lost shears, explaining, "I just happened to think that I 
 couldn't find the wire-nippers that day when you was 
 cuttin' Limber's hair, and that was why I got 'em from 
 you. I left 'em in the blacksmith shop, but I disremem- 
 bered it till you spoke about 'em. They may cut paper, 
 but they ain't no good for cuttin' wire." 
 
 He handed the badly damaged shears to Holy who seated 
 himself on the floor. Selecting a roll of paper from the 
 pile before him, Holy opened and contemplated it in per- 
 plexity, finally appealing to Bronco : 
 
 ■ ' Sav, Bronc, there 's two white edges. Shall I trim 'em 
 both?" 
 
 Bronco stood gazing down at the paper. "Durned if 
 I know," he confessed. "But thar ain't no use shirkin' 
 the job since we tackled it. Pitch in, Holy. Let 'er go, 
 and cut 'em both off," he directed recklessly before he was 
 attracted by the struggles of Roarer and Limber, who 
 dragged in a galvanized tub. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 115 
 
 Behind them came Fong, protesting wildly, "No clatchee 
 more flouler. No makee biscuits tomollow." 
 
 "Well, give us crackers, " commanded Bronco. "This 
 year room has got to be papered today. Go chase your- 
 self, Fong." 
 
 The Chinaman disappeared jabbering and shaking his 
 head, but no one paid attention to Fong's worries. Each 
 was immersed in his own troubles. 
 
 Holy struggled heroically with spirals of paper, and 
 volcanic outbursts of his pet expressions floated from his 
 part of the room as he endeavoured to extricate himself 
 from the enveloping coils. Bronco hovered over the tub, 
 directing Limber and Roarer, who dumped a sack and a 
 half of flour into it. 
 
 "You gotter put salt in, next," said Bronco, and the two 
 cowpunchers darted to a cupboard where each captured 
 a small bag of salt. 
 
 "What next?" they demanded, becoming imbued with 
 enthusiasm as the salt mingled with the tub of flour. 
 
 "And — er — and — " floundered Bronco hopelessly. 
 "There's something else. What the devil is it?" he im- 
 plored the others. 
 
 "Water," prompted Holy from his corner, his head and 
 arms protruding from the paper making him resemble a 
 huge turtle. "I knowed you'd forget that." 
 
 Bronco's ire found vent in a few words borrowed from 
 Holy's vocabulary, and Limber, mounted on a box, turned 
 from inspecting the cupboard to say: "If we're goin' to 
 paper this room, you two quit scrapin' and get down to 
 business. If you ain't, jest say so, and I'll set Manuel to 
 whitewashin' it." 
 
 His threat had the desired effect. Bronco appealed to 
 Limber, "Larry told me to mix it like biscuit dough and 
 thin it out with water. There was somethin' else but I've 
 plumb forgot it, Limber." 
 
 "Well, try lard, then," suggested Limber, poking his 
 head back in the cupboard and scanning the contents hop- 
 
116 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ing to find the missing article, even though it were neces- 
 sary to add everything on the shelves. ' ' How about some 
 niggerfoot molasses?" 
 
 ''Lard's all right, " replied Bronco, "but niggerfoot 
 don't go in biscuits." 
 
 "Well, it goes on top of 'em pretty slick, and it's good 
 and sticky, so it oughter be a good thing to put in," per- 
 sisted Limber, holding out the can. "Mebbe Larry for- 
 got to tell you to use it." 
 
 "Jest a leetle bit," conceded Bronco, wishing heartily 
 that Limber would insist upon whitewashing the room ; but 
 not brave enough to suggest it himself. It had taken him 
 two years to live down the episode of the buckskin cow, and 
 he knew that Holy and Roarer would make life a burden if 
 he confessed his inability to finish the work he had so reck- 
 lessly undertaken. 
 
 He watched the black molasses trickle into the contents 
 of the tub until the last drop had fallen. Limber ascended 
 the box again. 
 
 "Thar's another can of niggerfoot. Don't be stingy 
 with it Bronc," admonished Limber. 
 
 Bronco had not the courage to negative any suggestion, 
 but he groped mentally, "It w r as a short word," he told 
 Limber with a faint gleam of hope. 
 
 1 ' Dam ! ' ' exploded Holy. ' ' Jest look at this dod-ratted, 
 twistin' paper, will you? Talk about your Hopi snake- 
 dancers, they ain't in it with me! Where am I at?" he 
 demanded from a labyrinth of paper coils. 
 
 Bronco was glad of the chance to assume knowledge that 
 he did not possess, much as a small boy bolsters up his 
 ebbing courage in a dark lane by whistling loudly. 
 
 "I told you to cut the edges straight," he announced 
 oracularly, ' ' and these year look like a cross-eyed maverick 
 had been usin ' a circular saw to cut wall-paper for a merry- 
 go-round. Why that paper would give a minister a jag to 
 look at it!" 
 
 "If one of you fellers would hog-tie that end whilst I 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 117 
 
 get a diamond-hitch on this'n, I niought have some show," 
 defended Holy feebly. 
 
 Roarer went to the rescue and gripped one end of a roll 
 while Holy conscientiously proceeded to mutilate the edges 
 and succeeded in making the scallops a trifle smaller. 
 Limber and Bronco resumed their consultation. 
 
 "I bet it was yeast," jubilated Limber. "We all forgot 
 about that, and it's a short word, sure enough." 
 
 "I guess you're right," Bronco agreed with desperate 
 haste, and without delay he dumped a large can of baking 
 powder into the tub. "Now, all we got to do is thin her 
 out and then she's ready to start work." 
 
 Limber helped him carry the tub into the front room, 
 escorted by Roarer and Holy, who trailed yards of paper 
 which had escaped from their encircling arms. 
 
 "We need a board and two saw-horses to stand on," 
 said Bronco cheerfully, believing the worst of the trouble 
 was over. "Holy, you and Roarer paste the paper with 
 the whitewash brush, whilst Limber helps me stic'er up. 
 We got to have system if we want to get anything done 
 right." 
 
 The first strip was duly prepared, and they viewed it 
 with feelings akin to the emotions of Columbus and his 
 crew when they sighted land. Bronco climbed on the 
 plank that rested on the saw-horses. As he reached down 
 for the wet strip which Limber held up to him, the board 
 tipped suddenly. Bronco slid, clawing wildly at space 
 until he enveloped Limber in a pasty embrace. The im- 
 pact caused them both to fall across Holy and Roarer who 
 were engaged in spreading paste on another strip. The 
 latter proved no obstacle in the mad career of Limber and 
 Bronco, which ended ignominously in a sea of paste from 
 the overturned tub. 
 
 When the confusion had subsided sufficiently, the men 
 surveyed the wreck with voiceless disgust, until Holy spoke 
 sarcastically. 
 
 "I suppose you'll say this belongs in the deal, Bronc. 
 
118 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "What's next? You sure seem to be the movin' spirit. 
 But, one thing I'm stackin' my chips on, is that I'll know 
 better the next time I start to paper a room and won't do 
 it." 
 
 "You can quit if you want to. I ain't no quitter. 
 Thar's half a sack of flour left," Bronco challenged over 
 his shoulder as he started for the door to the back porch 
 where he had deposited the surplus flour. The half-sack 
 of flour had disappeared. 
 
 "I bet that Chink got it," asserted Bronco wrathfully, 
 but there was no sign of Fong in answer to their calls. 
 Then Limber pointed to a couple of burros that were de- 
 molishing the last shreds of a flour sack. 
 
 "That settles it," grunted Bronco, blissfully ignorant 
 that while they had been occupied, Fong had slipped slyly 
 through the screen door of the porch, clutched the half 
 sack of flour, retreated successfully and after dumping the 
 contents of the sack into another sack, which had been 
 washed, the Chinaman with a leer of triumph, tossed the 
 original sack to the burros. Then, complacently he began 
 mixing the dough for the next day's baking; but at inter- 
 vals he peered at the fast vanishing flour sack, and saw that 
 his ruse was successful when the cowboys discovered the 
 two burros. 
 
 "Gosh, all we got to show is a nice mess that's got to be 
 cleaned up, and a bill down to the Headquarters for paper 
 with pink roses. Ain't it a shame? Just when w T e was 
 getting along so fine, too." Bronco's tones were lugubri- 
 ous, and they all looked regretfully at the coils of paper 
 that cumbered the room. Like mourners at a funeral they 
 gathered around the coils. The pink roses grew more al- 
 luring. Bronco lifted one strip and held it against the 
 wall. 
 
 "Whitewash makes me sick," he affirmed. 
 
 "Suppose I go over to Eureka and ask Mrs. Burns to 
 lend us enough flour to finish up the job?" Limber made 
 
; 
 
 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 119 
 
 the suggestion and the idea was accepted enthusiastically. 
 
 While he was gone the others scraped up the paste and 
 collected the scattered rolls of paper, then went to the 
 bunkhouse and waited Limber's return, unaware that al- 
 most half a sack of flour reposed in a corner of Fong's tin 
 trunk, while a batch of bread was rising beautifully in the 
 dishpan hidden beneath Fong's bed. Had any of the boys 
 suspicioned the true facts there would have been a badly- 
 frightened Chinaman in Arizona. 
 
 When Limber returned he was accompanied by Mrs. 
 Burns in her buggy, while Peanut, Limber's pony, trotted 
 at the back of the rig, hitched to the axle. 
 
 "You boys have certainly run into a bunch of trouble," 
 she laughed as she nimbly climbed from the rig. "I told 
 Limber that I might be able to help you, for I've done all 
 my own papering, you know." 
 
 Limber extricated a sack that held flour, and joined the 
 procession to the room they were now sure would be dec- 
 orated with pink roses. 
 
 Mrs. Burns looked at the remnant of paste in the tub 
 before she asked, "What on earth did you use?" 
 
 "Everything we could find," confessed Bronco humbly. 
 "We did leave out eggs, sugar and pepper." 
 
 "All you need is flour, hot water and a little thin glue 
 water," she laughed. 
 
 "Glue!" they echoed. 
 
 ' ' I told you Larry said it was a short word, ' ' triumphed 
 
 ronco. "Why didn't some of you muttonheads think of 
 glue?" 
 
 "You said he told you to make a thin biscuit dough, an 
 har ain't no glue in that," retorted Holy, but further 
 argument was avoided as Mrs. Burns began issuing busi- 
 ness-like orders. 
 
 By the time the sun was setting the papered room was 
 pronounced a thorough success, and Mrs. Burns made her 
 way to the stables followed by four cowboys whosa hair and 
 
120 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 clothes spattered with dry paste, testified to an honest day 's 
 labour. 
 
 Mrs. Burns surveyed them as she picked up the reins, 
 ready to start home, while Limber mounted Peanut to ac- 
 company her. It was eight miles to Eureka Springs. 
 
 "I've heard of lost prospectors eating their boots," she 
 said, "but if you boys ate your clothes, you would need 
 anti-fat. Tell the Boss I will be over soon to call on the 
 bride. Adios ! ' ' and with a flourish of the whip she drove 
 away, followed by the gratitude of the paste-daubed, tired 
 group. 
 
 It required numerous trips to the kitchen for buckets of 
 hot water before the boys removed the greater part of the 
 concoction that clung tenaciously to faces, hands and hair ; 
 then began a more vigorous attack on their boots and 
 clothes. 
 
 "It's durnecl lucky that Bronc disremembered about the 
 glue," congratulated Roarer. "We'd a never got that 
 off." 
 
 Bronco slumped into a rickety chair, tipping it against 
 the wall to ease its weakest leg, "It takes a woman to round 
 up a stampede like our'n and get the bunch headed right 
 when it gets to millin'. I'm derned glad the Boss is mar- 
 ried, for this outfit needs female purtection." 
 
 "I never worked so hard in my life," sighed Holy, flop- 
 ping on his bunk. 
 
 Bronco grinned across the room. "Ain't you forgot the 
 time you wrote a letter to Bill Johnson's sister? You sure 
 worked that time — Set around the bunkhouse till day- 
 light tearin' up paper." 
 
 "Well, she asked all of us to write her," snapped Holy, 
 "but none of you fellers had the nerve to do it, and when 
 you bet I couldn't, I called your bluff and won out, didn't 
 I?" 
 
 "You sure did," agreed the others, recalling the historic 
 missive which had been read aloud and duly admired be- 
 fore it was mailed. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 121 
 
 Dere Miss Johnson 
 
 as I hav northin mutch to do I wil rite you a few lines 
 we are al wel hear but my pony has a soar back and we hope 
 you are the same 
 as i have northin mutch to say i wil now clos 
 
 yours truly 
 Holy. 
 
 None of the Diamond II knew that Holy's letter, neatly 
 framed, hung in Miss Johnson's room at a fashionable 
 girls' school, where it was the centre of attraction; and a 
 valued souvenir of her summer visit to her brother's ranch, 
 which included the episode of a dance at Willcox. 
 
 The silence of the prairie brooded over the Diamond II 
 ranch. Inside the bunkhouse four cowpunchers slept 
 serenely unconscious of the odour of freshly baking bread 
 that drifted from the ranch kitchen. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 JAMIE was tucked comfortably between his sister and 
 the big, new brother, and as they drove swiftly along 
 the smooth prairie road behind the high-headed trot- 
 ters, the boy forgot his shyness in constant wonder. 
 
 "This is a prairie-dog town," explained Traynor to the 
 child, but Nell was equally interested. "Those holes are 
 where they live, and when a rain is coming they all get 
 busy heaping up the earth to prevent water going down 
 into their homes and drowning them out. They are good 
 weather prophets." 
 
 "Oh, look! It's sitting up!" cried the child in delight, 
 pointing at a tiny brown-furred animal squatted on its hind 
 legs and barking shrilly. 
 
 "Watch him when we get nearer," suggested Traynor. 
 "See, they are stationed at regular intervals, just like sol- 
 diers. They are the sentinels who warn the others of ap- 
 proaching enemies." The prairie-dog nearest the carriage, 
 gave a final bark of defiance, wiggled its short tail and 
 dodged into the hole. The next nearest dog then took up 
 the warning bark. 
 
 "What bright little things they are!" Nell smiled at the 
 yapping little animal that shouted pigmy challenge twenty 
 feet distant. 
 
 "If they had long tails," Jamie hastened to say, "they'd 
 be like the squirrels we used to feed in the Park." 
 
 "We'll get Limber to trap one for you," promised 
 Traynor. "You won't have to keep it in a cage after it 
 knows you, for it will dig a hole close to the house and 
 never leave." 
 
 122 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 123 
 
 Jamie's shining eyes met Nell's and he gave an ecstatic 
 sigh as he settled against her shoulder. But in an instant 
 he was alert, watching a cotton-tail rabbit dash across the 
 road. It halted by a mesquite bush. 
 
 ''Maybe I can catch it." Traynor handed the reins to his 
 wife and stepped cautiously until he reached down and 
 picked the cowering creature by its ears. Jamie uttered a 
 cry of delight as his hands closed gently over the rabbit. 
 
 "Once in a while you can do that," commented the man 
 as he took the reins again. "The Apaches often catch 
 them that way, but I'd hate to have my dinner depend on 
 the success of getting a rabbit by this method." 
 
 The child was holding the quivering captive against his 
 cheek. Its eyes w T ere bright with terror, and when Jamie 
 looked up at Traynor, his eyes held something of the same 
 bright, frightened appeal. "Won't you please let it go 
 home now? I'm afraid it will be lonesome tonight, like 
 I used to be when Nell was away working all day in New 
 York." 
 
 Traynor lifted the tiny prisoner and let it slip to the 
 ground. They laughed together as it scurried and leaped 
 across the prairie until it was lost to sight. 
 
 "He knew the right way home," said Jamie, clapping 
 his hands, "and it has gone to tell its little boys and girls 
 about the giants that caught it and how it got away. They 
 will be awful glad to see him come home, won't they?" 
 Nell nodded, and the boy went on, "Sometimes I used to 
 think maybe a giant would catch Nell so she couldn't come 
 home to me when it got dark, and it made my throat hurt. 
 But you always did come," he finished with a smile at his 
 sister, who thus learned for the first time of his childish 
 fear. 
 
 Her arm went about him suddenly and she held him close 
 as she answered, "And the giants didn't catch me, you see. 
 Instead, you and I ran away to a wonderful, new country, 
 where the Prince came and found us, and now he is taking 
 us home to live with him." 
 
124. THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "And we won't have to go back again, ever, will we 
 Nell?" he asked in sudden anxiety. 
 
 "No, dear," she answered. "It's going to be just like 
 the story books. Don't you remember? 'And they all 
 lived happily for ever afterward ! ' " 
 
 The child leaned back with a contented sigh, and his 
 closed eyes did not see the look that passed between Nell 
 and Traynor. The horses had slowed down to a walk and 
 Traynor's right hand held the reins loosely, but his left 
 hand closed over the girl's ungloved one with its new 
 golden band on the slender finger. He smiled at her, and 
 then her eyes filled with quick tears, as he leaned over to 
 kiss her tenderly. 
 
 "Tears, Nell?" 
 
 ' ' Tears of happiness, ' ' she answered tremulously. * ' The 
 tears that come when one's heart is too happy for laugh- 
 ter." 
 
 Nell had a distinct recollection of her first view of the 
 ranch when she had seen it from the stage coach, but the 
 thought now that this was her home and Allan's lent a 
 different interest to the little village of cream-coloured 
 buildings with red roofs, surrounded by Cottonwood and 
 willow trees. Here and there poked windmills that sup- 
 plied the troughs and ponds with water. That other ride 
 had been filled with anxious uncertainty as to what lay be- 
 fore her, but now, the whole world was a wonderful dream 
 of happiness and love. This was her home. 
 
 The carriage entered the big driveway into the main 
 stable, where the men and Fong were waiting to meet 
 them. A pack of greyhounds lying on the floor, leaped and 
 began to yelp in excitement. From the box-stalls sleek 
 heads of handsome horses peered curiously, then they whin- 
 nied a welcome home to the team that pawed the floor im- 
 patiently. 
 
 Nell scarcely had time to note it all when Doctor Powell 
 came from the court-yard of the house and helped her from 
 the carriage. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 125 
 
 "I got back yesterday," he said, after they had all ex- 
 changed words of welcome. His eyes rested on Jamie, 
 "Well, I believe Arizona is fattening you up already," 
 he exclaimed, taking the child's hand in his own. "You 
 and I must be chums, Jamie, for we're both tenderfeet, and 
 have lots to learn. Limber picked out a fine little pony for 
 you to ride, and I found a saddle in Tucson that is just 
 your size. We'll both learn to be cowboys, now. Won't 
 that be fine?" 
 
 The child's smile told that Powell had won a loyal fol- 
 lower. The doctor's love for children was a magnet that 
 drew them to him at once. Now he looked down at the 
 child, measuring the battle to be fought, and knew the vic- 
 tory would not be easily won, for the child's vitality had 
 been deeply sapped. 
 
 Nell paused in the court-yard. It was eighty feet square, 
 with deep porches on all four sides. Triangular flower- 
 beds were in each corner, and over a pergola climbing roses 
 in full bloom mingled with honeysuckle and flowering 
 syringa, which recklessly distilled their combined fragrance. 
 Even the windmill in the centre of the court was com- 
 pletely hidden by vines. 
 
 She followed her husband into the low-ceilinged living 
 room, and with a little smile she dropped into the same big 
 chair that had held her in sleep when the cowboys discov- 
 ered her that unforgettable day. 
 
 "Come see this view," called Allan, and she went to the 
 long French window and stood beside him. "Those moun- 
 tains are the most wonderful sermons in the world," he 
 said. " It took me a long time to understand them. Lim- 
 ber helped me. When I was discouraged, he did not say 
 anything, but just saddled his little pinto pony, Peanut, and 
 my own horse, Chinati, and we rode silently for hours 
 through long, dim trails, until I found courage and peace. 
 Then we came home again. You and I will ride those trails 
 together dear. They have known my dark hours, and now 
 I want them to share our happiness." 
 
126 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 He turned, and with his arm about her waist, led her 
 to a door that connected the living-room with an adjoining 
 one. 
 
 "I told the boys to slick up this room for you, and you 
 can select your furniture from the catalogue. That is how 
 we shop when we live on a ranch, you know." 
 
 As he threw open the door, the pink roses aud red Navajo 
 rugs shrieked discordant welcome, and Traynor started in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Well!" he exclaimed. "I told them to whitewash it! 
 This certainly is a transformation. I wonder how on earth 
 they managed it? If you don't care for the paper, Nell, it 
 can be changed. It's a trifle gaudy, I must confess." 
 
 "It's the sweetest room I ever had!" she answered 
 warmly. "I just love every one of those awful pink roses, 
 and I 'm going out now to tell the men how I love it ! " 
 
 She darted from the room and found the men in the 
 main stable. They looked at her with evident embarrass- 
 ment, but she held out her hand, smiling as she cried im- 
 pulsively, "I want to shake hands with each one of you, 
 and thank you for taking such trouble to make my room 
 so pretty! It is the nicest room I have ever had in my 
 whole life!" 
 
 They took her hand awkwardly in turn, then each waited 
 for one of the others to answer. Silence gripped them. 
 
 Holy finally made a heroic effort and distinguished him- 
 self by exploding, "Oh, Hell! That warn't northin'! 
 'Tweren't no trouble whatsomever ! ' ' 
 
 Unable to control the corners of her mouth, Nell re- 
 treated to the house, where she sank on a couch and shook 
 with laughter as she related to Allan the result of her ap- 
 preciation. 
 
 As soon as her skirt had vanished through the court-yard 
 the men turned wrathfully on Holy. 
 
 "Say, Holy," Bronco said fiercely, "what the devil do 
 you suppose she will think of this outfit with you cussin' 
 at her that way?" 
 
; 
 
 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 127 
 
 Holy looked abashed and scratched his head, " Damned 
 if I know how I come to say it ! But, if one of you fellers 
 had of said somethin' I wouldn't got no chanct to cuss. 
 You all jest made me do it !" He stalked away in offended 
 dignity, while the other men looked after him. 
 
 "Well, what d'ye think of that?" Bronco demanded of 
 Limber and Roarer, who only shook their heads, Holy's 
 logic was too much for them to pass upon. 
 
 The day's surprises did not end with the elaborate din- 
 ner upon which Fong had lavished his best efforts. In the 
 evening, as Nell, Jamie, Traynor and Powell sat in the liv- 
 ing-room, Fong entered bearing what appeared to be a 
 Chinese pagoda of delicate carved ivory. 
 
 Beaming, he deposited it upon the center-table, and as 
 they drew near, they saw it was a cake with white icing 
 that loomed almost two feet high. It was a lace-work 
 Eiffel tower from which swung fairy-like bridges to the 
 outer base, and this foundation was a mass of intricate de- 
 signs in pure white icing. Along the edge of the cake, in 
 rose pink letters, was written "Mary Crixmas," for Fong's 
 previous attempts in such lines had been confined to Christ- 
 mas festivals, and the spelling of the words had slipped 
 from his memory through long disuse. 
 
 The Chinaman presented a sharp knife to Nell, as he 
 said, "Your clake. You cuttee him." 
 
 "It's a shame to cut it," she protested, as she took the 
 knife. Then she turned to her husband, "I want the men 
 to see it first, and we'll give them each a piece of it, Allan, 
 if you don't mind." 
 
 He hurried out of the room to marshal the boys before 
 im. The cake was duly admired and Fong's pride 
 satiated. Then the knife did its deadly work, and the 
 fairy bridges toppled, bit by bit, until the whole outfit had 
 received a generous portion of Fong's masterpiece. 
 
 "Hold on," said Traynor. "Fong, you get some glasses, 
 and bring one for yourself, too." 
 
 While Fong obeyed the order, Traynor disappeared to 
 
128 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 return with several bottles of champagne, which he opened. 
 
 Thus they drank to the health and happiness of the Boss 
 of the Diamond H and his bride, and in those glasses was 
 pledged an unspoken devotion that would count no sacri- 
 fice too great to make for the Boss and the little lady. 
 
 It was long past midnight before the men settled in their 
 bunks and the light was turned out. For quite a while 
 nothing disturbed the silence, then Roarer's voice pierced 
 the darkness shrilly, ' ' Say, where did Fong get the flour to 
 make that cake? We all seen them burros eatin' the flour 
 sack, didn't we? An' that's all the flour thar was on the 
 ranch?" 
 
 "Shet up!" responded Holy fiercely. "I don't know 
 whar he got it an' what's more I don't care. It was damned 
 good cake, anyhow!" 
 
PART TWO 
 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 TIE life of the ranch was like a series of fairy talea 
 to Nell and Jamie in these first days of their home- 
 coming to the Diamond H. Not the least wonder- 
 ful and delightful of their new experiences were the riding 
 lessons. A couple of gentle, easy-gaited ponies were sad- 
 dled for the boy and his sister, and accompanied by Tray- 
 nor and Doctor Powell they rode to the various outlying 
 ranches that formed a part of the immense Diamond H 
 range. Often Limber rode with them. Always the riders 
 were preceded by the pack of greyhounds that darted yelp- 
 ing after jackrabbits or an occasional coyote. 
 
 Doctor Powell had been waiting the outcome of King's 
 will, which had been written out by hand with no witnesses. 
 As there were no heirs, and Allan Traynor, the executor, 
 had been appointed in the will without bonds, he was given 
 full power to sell the property in conformance with the 
 terms of the will. This stipulated positively that the prop- 
 erty was only to be sold to a physician who would establish 
 a sanitarium upon the place without undue delay; and 
 the Probate Court ordered that these terms be carried out. 
 Until after the will was made public, only Traynor and 
 a few Land Office people were aware that King had patented 
 the land. Glendon expressed his disappointment vehem- 
 ently. There were many who wished to bid for the Springs, 
 but Powell was the only eligible purchaser, and was ready 
 with the cash. After complying with all legal formalities, 
 he was given immediate possession of the Hot Springs 
 ranch. 
 
 All proceeds of the sale, according to the will, were to 
 be turned over to the executor until such time as the san- 
 
 131 
 
132 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 itarium was completed, when this entire fund was to be 
 applied to the maintenance of the place. Thus, Doctor 
 King, unable to live and see the realization of his dream, 
 was assisting in carrying out his plans. It was a partner- 
 ship between the dead and living owners of the Hot Springs, 
 which Powell felt a sacred obligation. He wished heartily 
 that the old doctor could have lived so they might have 
 worked together; but, he resolved that so far as he was 
 able the undertaking should embody the ideals which the 
 dead doctor had not lived to see fulfilled. 
 
 Limber was commissioned to find a man to occupy the 
 ranch house at the Springs until the doctor's plans were 
 completed. The search resulted in the hiring of a Mexican 
 dwarf, whose own name, long forgotten, found a substitute 
 in "Chappo," or "Little Chap." When living near any 
 settlement he was unable to resist his fondness for stim- 
 ulants, yet he was honest and faithful to the core, as Limber 
 knew. The plan of sending him to the place would be an 
 advantage to him as well as to Powell. 
 
 The doctor spent much of his time at the Diamond H, 
 while awaiting replies to his communications with various 
 architects and managers of sanitaria, in Europe as well as 
 America. 
 
 Entering the dining-room for breakfast one morning, 
 Nell, with cheeks flushing and eyes sparkling, and every 
 movement radiating happiness, glanced out the window 
 across the wide valley toward Fort Grant. 
 
 "Isn't this a wonderful place I" she exclaimed turning 
 from the window and dropping into her chair at the table. 
 "It is good just to be alive in this big, free country!" 
 
 "I am having two hundred cows branded for you, Nell," 
 spoke Traynor as she handed him his coffee. "It's your 
 pin-money, and Jamie will start his herd with fifty cows. 
 Limber is fixing up a special brand for each of you." 
 
 "Allan! You darling!" gasped Nell, then she darted 
 around the table to where her husband sat and dropped a 
 swift kiss on his forehead when he looked up at her with 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 133 
 
 laughing eyes. Fong, who had just entered with a plate 
 of famous pop-overs, grinned sentimentally, and Nell, blush- 
 ing furiously, resumed her vacated chair. 
 
 "I'm beginning to 'act up,' as Bronco calls it. But now 
 I understand why cowpunchers race their ponies and shoot 
 their guns. I'd like to 'whooper up' myself, this morn- 
 ing," she finished with a little laugh. 
 
 "Dangerous condition," pronounced the doctor gravely. 
 "I'd prescribe a good, hard ride as the only hope for im- 
 provement. ' ' 
 
 "All right," responded Traynor with twinkling eyes. 
 "Get your togs on, Nell. We'll all go to the big rodeo at 
 Box Springs. You'll get a faint idea of range work, and 
 now that you have your own herd, you should learn how 
 to run it." 
 
 "Limber is showing me how to throw a rope," Jamie 
 broke in eagerly, and he scrambled from his chair, clutching 
 his new sombrero that he had deposited on the floor by his 
 chair, the way he noticed the cowboys all did. "Yesterday 
 I mounted my pony all alone. I can saddle him, too — 
 but Limber has to pull the cinches tight." With this final 
 declaration, he hurried through the door, his tiny spurs 
 clicking importantly on the cement walk. 
 
 The greyhound pack yelped shrill protests at being left 
 behind when they saw Nell and Jamie were in the party. 
 Then Traynor and Powell mounted their own horses and 
 the four swung along the road in a steady lope toward the 
 Galiuro mountains, west of the ranch. 
 
 When they reached Box Springs, Nell's first impression 
 was a dense cloud of dust stirred up by the restless hoofs 
 of thousands of cattle. Then she saw the chuck-wagon, 
 where the camp cook was busy with his pots and pans over 
 a fire of smouldering oak logs. Near the mountains four 
 or five thousand head of bawling cattle, with cowpunchers 
 dashing to and fro among them, gave the appearance of 
 wildest confusion. Yet, to the initiated, the system was 
 perfect. Part of the cattle were bunched and herded by 
 
134. THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 certain men, while others rode through the weaving, tossing 
 mass of horns, deftly picking their way and 'cutting out' 
 some particular animal." 
 
 Nell watched it all with frank delight and curiosity, and 
 appealed to her husband from time to time. "What are 
 they doing in that bunch where Limber is riding?" 
 
 " ' Cutting, ' " was the answer. "Watch Limber. See 
 how he picks a cow and follows it up? Peanut is a won- 
 derful 'cutting pony. ' He seems to know just what Limber 
 is thinking, and once Peanut points the right cow, he never 
 lets it get away from him till it is out of the bunch and 
 where it belongs. He's the champion cutting pony of 
 Arizona. Limber can use a light cord instead of reins. 
 No one but Limber ever rides Peanut. He turns so quickly 
 he would throw any other man. Watch him, Nell!" 
 
 Powell and Nell lost no movement of the pinto pony and 
 its master, now following a big, bald-faced steer. The ani- 
 mal, knowing it was being singled out, twisted and dodged 
 adroitly from side to side. Then, finding its attempts to 
 escape in vain, it made a sudden dash from the herd and 
 tore wildly toward the mountains back of the camp. Pea- 
 nut, his little pinto body hugging low to the ground, his 
 hoofs tossing clods of dirt, kept close behind the steer. 
 Limber, leaning slightly forward in his saddle held a coiled 
 rope in his hand. 
 
 Only a few feet separated them, when the steer's hoof 
 struck a prairie-dog hole, and it went down with a crash. 
 Those who watched gave an involuntary cry. Peanut, too 
 near to stop or turn aside, reached the fallen steer just as 
 it started to rise. 
 
 Without a second's hesitation, the gallant little pony 
 leaped over the steer, whirled and raced after it as it scur- 
 ried in the opposite direction. 
 
 A yell of admiration sounded from all the cowboys ; they 
 knew how close had been the danger to pony and rider. 
 Nell gasped in terror and amazement. 
 
 "That's the finest bit of riding I've ever seen!" Traynor 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 135 
 
 enthused. "Why, no one but Limber and Peanut could 
 have done it! The steer was almost on his forefeet when 
 the pony jumped. If the horse had missed, or waited an 
 instant, it might have meant a broken neck for both man 
 and horse ! ' ' 
 
 "It was magnificent!" Powell exclaimed in accents of 
 hearty admiration. "But, I suppose Limber counts it all 
 in 1he clay's work and nothing more." 
 
 "That's just it," was the answer from the Boss of the 
 Diamond II. "It's a game of chance each day when you 
 ride the open range." 
 
 Limber had succeeded in driving the recalcitrant steer 
 into a band of stock herded away from the other cattle. 
 
 "Why did he have to put it there?" Nell motioned with 
 her whip. 
 
 "That's the 'stray herd,' " Traynor explained. "You 
 see, Arizona being all open range, cattle mix indiscrimi- 
 nately. Twice a year there is a general round-up, or rodeo. 
 Then notice is sent to all ranchers informing them of the 
 itinerary of the work, which extends over certain sec- 
 tions. ' ' 
 
 They were riding closer to the stray herd as he spoke, 
 and halted the horses a little distance away. 
 
 "Each rodeo has its Captain, who is general manager for 
 the territory covered by a number of ranches. All ranches 
 contribute their pro rata of men, horses and chuck, making 
 the work co-operative." 
 
 "That's rather fair toward the small cattle owner," 
 Powell interrupted; "but, that is the spirit of the country 
 here. A square deal for all." 
 
 Traynor nodded assent. "Frequently cattle are located 
 a hundred miles or more from their 'home range.' We 
 cut these into the stray herd and hold them till the owner 
 drives them back to his place. If he is not represented at 
 the rodeo, he is notified and arranges to get the animals. 
 So, the stray herd is an important item in the round-up 
 work, you see." 
 
136 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 They had ridden around the herd until reaching the 
 spot where a fire of glowing coals was tended by a couple 
 of cowpunchers, Traynor said, "This is the branding place. 
 Look at Bronco!" 
 
 He pointed the galloping horse that carried Bronco. 
 ' 1 You 11 see some pretty work now. Bronco won the champ- 
 ionship for roping at the last Territorial contest." 
 
 "What is it?" demanded Nell. "It's all Greek to me." 
 
 "A steer is turned loose on the open, then the cowpuncher 
 takes after it, when it has a certain start. He must rope 
 it, throw it and tie it so it cannot rise. Then he lifts his 
 hands in the air. The time taken from the start of the 
 steer to the second the man raises his hands, is what de- 
 cides the championship roping." 
 
 Leaning forward eagerly Powell and Nell watched 
 Bronco's arm move swiftly. The coiled riata in his hand 
 shot out like a immense, writhing snake. The big loop 
 dropped over the calf, slipped almost imperceptibly, then 
 jerked taut as Bronco's pony squatted down on its haunches 
 and the calf fell with a heavy thud. A quick turn of the 
 wrist, and Bronco had the end of his rope twisted firmly 
 about the high horn of his saddle. Depending on the pony, 
 with its braced feet, and alert eyes, moving backward and 
 holding the rope from slacking, Bronco snatched a red-hot 
 iron from the fire. 
 
 A curl of smoke, bellow of pain, two quick slashes of a 
 knife. The calf scrambled up, a freshly burnt brand on 
 its hip, and its bleeding ears, showing the mark of its 
 owner. The animal stood bewildered, snorted, and rushed 
 with a loud bawl to the cow's side. She had been watch- 
 ing anxiously. Now she sniffed at her calf, licked its 
 face in sympathy ; then with one accord they scurried away, 
 free to go where they pleased, for they were on their home 
 range and their troubles were over. 
 
 "It seems cruel," Nell protested warmly. 
 
 "It's the only way to handle range cattle," Traynor re- 
 plied. "Formerly," he was speaking to the doctor, "the 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 137 
 
 brands were made as. large as possible — now we make tbem 
 as small as legible. Once in a while we still run across 
 an animal with, three immense letters — JIM or HUE — 
 across the entire side of the brute. They were two broth- 
 ers who determined there should be no dispute over their 
 respective ownerships. It ruined the hide and knocked off 
 a good sum on the sale of the animal. Most brands are on 
 the hip or hind quarter. It's an interesting study once 
 you get into it." 
 
 "Well, so long as they brand the cattle, why cut the 
 ears, too? Is it necessary?" Nell's sympathy was still 
 with the calf. 
 
 "It settles ownership where a brand is indistinct or dis- 
 puted for any reason? Branding is done when the flies 
 are not troublesome, and calves still follow their mothers. 
 Should a calf escape branding at the proper time, through 
 oversight, it soon becomes large enough to leave its mother, 
 and thus is hard to identify the next rodeo. So, if a cow- 
 boy on the range sees a large calf with uncropped ears, he 
 investigates at once." 
 
 "Of course," Powell asserted, "I can see the sense of it 
 now that you have explained it." 
 
 "Well, even that does not settle a dispute. The long- 
 eared, motherless calves are called mavericks, or in Arizona, 
 where the Mexican language is used, orajanos. The un- 
 written law of the range gives an unmarked calf to the 
 fellow who catches it, so long as it is not with its mother, 
 you see. Naturally, the man on whose range it is found, 
 is supposed to have a stronger claim. A long-eared calf is 
 a temptation for 'sleepering.' " 
 
 "In the name of goodness, Allan," said Nell in despair, 
 "what is 'sleepering'? I just get a glimmer of under- 
 standing when something new comes up and I'm flounder- 
 ing worse than ever. I don't see how any one ever learns 
 all those terms." 
 
 "Well," laughed Traynor, "now you can understand 
 how hard it was for me, to learn it all. I didn't dare 
 
138 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ask questions, you see. Had to pretend I knew it all. On 
 the range, naturally, the ear-mark shows very plainly at 
 a distance, for the animal will face any rider. If a cow- 
 puncher sees the calf, standing by its mother, bears the 
 same ear-mark, he does not inspect to see if it is branded,^ 
 unless he has cause for suspicion. The rustler knowing 
 this, ear-marks a calf and takes chances on its being dis- 
 covered the calf has no brand. The ear-mark of calf tal- 
 lies with that of the mother, you see. When the calf is 
 old enough to be driven away from the mother, the rustler 
 finishes his work by driving it away, then changes the ear- 
 mark and puts on his brand." 
 
 "That's what I should class as scientific cattle stealing," 
 Powell decided, and Nell agreed with him, but before they 
 could ask further questions they turned startled faces in 
 the direction of an unclassified noise. 
 
 The Boss of the Diamond II laughed, and pointed to the 
 camp cook, who held a dishpan and was banging vigor- 
 ously on it with a huge iron spoon. Far and near, the 
 cowpunchers lifted their voices in the gleeful shout, 
 "Chuck's ready!" 
 
 Part of the outfit remained on guard over the cattle, 
 while the others raced their ponies pell-mell to the wagon 
 near which the noon-day meal was spread. 
 
 "I'm hungry," announced Nell, and without further 
 ceremony she led the way on her pony to join the group of 
 men among whom she recognized Limber and Bronco. 
 
CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 AS Nell approached the chuck-wagon, the eyes of the 
 cowpunchers of the many ranches represented, 
 looked at her with open approval, not unmixed 
 with curiosity, for they all had heard the episode of Wal- 
 ton's green whiskers, and the romantic meeting of the Boss 
 of the Diamond H and the girl to whom he had been en- 
 gaged in the East. 
 
 Bronco helped her down from her pony, and escorted her 
 to a seat of honour — an empty box that had formerly held 
 canned tomatoes. The men sat tailor-fashion around the 
 canvas that did duty as a table-cloth. 
 
 Nell's eyes scanned the table. Granite pans full of 
 boiled potatoes, frijoles — the small red bean grown by 
 Mexicans, which forms the principal article of diet on any 
 Arizona ranch — an enormous dish held a stew made of 
 "jerky," which Nell recognized, for she was becoming in- 
 itiated into many things that were strange. She had seen 
 Fong pounding strips of sun-dried meat, and watched it 
 transformed to a savory stew, while he explained that the 
 cowboys carried it in their pockets and ate it without cook- 
 ing. 
 
 She sniffed with appreciation the coffee, and accepted 
 the big tin cup with a smile, then added condensed milk 
 from the can Bronco passed to her. 
 
 "What lovely biscuit!" she exclaimed, as a white cloth, 
 was deposited in front her, and the golden tan biscuit, 
 steaming hot were uncovered. "I don't see how it can be 
 done without a real stove!" The camp cook grinned his 
 approval of a woman of such intelligence. 
 
 139 
 
140 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 The clatter of tin plates, iron knives and forks, was 
 broken with laughter or jokes by the punchers at each 
 other's expense. Life during the rodeo was a combined 
 circus and school-day vacation when off duty with the herd. 
 Then, it was grim, hard work. The feeling of restraint at 
 first noticeable when Nell sat on her improvised throne, 
 gradually evaporated as she joined in the laughter. It 
 vanished completely when she slipped from the box to the 
 ground, to be "nearer the biscuit," she laughed as she 
 reached out and appropriated one. 
 
 Jamie, seated between Bronco and Limber, was silent but 
 happy, as they acclaimed him "one of the Diamond II out- 
 fit," and a "regular puncher, now." 
 
 The first relay moved away, some taking their places 
 with the herd to allow the other men their turn at the 
 chuck, but many of them were off duty for a time, and 
 these loafed and talked together, the smoke of their cig- 
 arettes forming tiny clouds about their heads. Nell rose 
 and made her way to a fallen log, on which she dropped 
 with a smile at Bronco who had followed her and Jamie 
 from the table. 
 
 While she admired Limber, there was a boyish irrepres- 
 sibility about Bronco that made a little bond between them. 
 He reached into the breast-pocket of his blue flannel shirt 
 and withdrew the hand, partly closed. Jamie looked at it 
 curiously as he saw it was extended to him. Bronco's fin- 
 gers opened, and Nell and the child stared at a strange 
 thing blinking sleepily. 
 
 "What is it?" they asked simultaneously. 
 
 "Horn-toad," Bronco replied. "Caught him this 
 mornin' and I was pretty sure you hadn't seen one, so I 
 kept him." 
 
 "Won't he bite?" Jamie's tones were doubtful. 
 
 "Not on your life," answered the cowboy. 
 
 They regarded the little creature as Bronco put it on 
 the ground and dragged a bit of string from his pocket. 
 He tied this about the toad's hind legs close to the body. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 141 
 
 "Look at him," was the command, as Bronco slid his 
 finger over the rough, tiny-horned back from tail to head. 
 
 With a wild scurry of legs, the toad raced to the end of 
 the string and struggled to escape; but, Bronco's finger 
 touched its head and moved gently toward the jerking tail. 
 The toad's eyes closed, his head drooped toward the ground, 
 the legs and tail became motionless. Jamie gave a little 
 squeal of delight, and cried, "He's gone to sleep!" 
 
 "Hang onto the string a minit." 
 
 Jamie clutched it, while Bronco held a consultation with 
 the cook at the tail-board of the chuck-wagon. Soon he 
 returned with a small, empty match-box. 
 
 "This '11 make a fine wagon," he announced, tying the 
 match-box to the end of the string. "Now, thar we are! 
 All you gotter do to make him move lively is run your 
 finger 'long his back like I done, and contrarywise, from 
 his head to his tail, if you want him to stop. When I was 
 a kid in Texas, me an' my little brother uster catch 'em 
 and have races this way." 
 
 A grin spread over his face and he looked up at Nell, 
 "Say, Mrs. Traynor, Maw hated horn-toads. Bill an' me 
 rounded-up twenty of 'em onct, and hid 'em in a closet in 
 a box. The box got upsot someways in the night, and 
 when Maw got up to start breakfast you never heerd such 
 a whoop ! She put her foot on one of 'em. It didn't hurt 
 the toad for she took her foot off too quick, but Bill an me 
 never brung any more into the house after that mornin'. 
 You see, when she put down her other foot, she hit another 
 toad, an' that room was jest naturally alive with 'em. We 
 rounded-up the whole herd, twenty of 'em, but Maw said 
 she knewed thar was a thousand and the rest of 'em got 
 away. ' ' 
 
 "I'm rather inclined to sympathize with your mother, 
 Bronco," was Nell's laughing comment. She shuddered, 
 "Those little sharp horns are bad enough to step on with 
 a bare foot, but to feel the horns moving would be rather 
 upsetting, I should think. ' ' 
 
142 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "It was," Bronco rejoined soberly. "But Maw wasn't 
 so upsot as we kids was — afterwards." 
 
 Jamie devoted himself to his new pet, and Nell's eyes 
 wandered to her husband and Doctor Powell who were 
 talking with another man, not far away. She saw this 
 man had a grizzly beard that seemed never to have been 
 cropped or shaven. The dry skin of neck and throat was 
 wrinkled and the texture and colour of a piece of Arizona 
 jerky from long exposure to the sun and wind. On his 
 head, an old straw hat was guiltless of a crown, but flaunted 
 two dilapidated turkey quills. Tufts of unkempt hair 
 peered inquisitively over the broken edges above the ragged 
 brim. A grim mouth made a repository for a corn-cob 
 pipe, and suspicious grey eyes squinted from Powell's face 
 to that of the Boss of the Diamond H. 
 
 Bronco saw her interest, and explained, "That's Paddy 
 Lafferty, owns the PL ranch and herd, that the doctor 
 Aggers on buyin'," then Nell recalled the many stories she 
 had already heard of this eccentric character. Paddy's 
 eyes caught hers, and she flushed guiltily as she glanced 
 away quickly. 
 
 "It's a dandy rodeo," she heard Bronco's voice beside 
 her, as he sat on the ground, knees drawn up, his muscular 
 hands busy rolling a cigarette. 
 
 "I suppose I'll get used to wild cattle after a while," 
 Nell hazarded, "but, honestly, Bronco, I'm afraid of them. 
 Their horns are so big and sharp." 
 
 "Why!" the cowpuncher's amazement was undisguised. 
 "These is short-horns! We ain't got no long-horns on the 
 range. You'd oughter seen some of the ol' Texas long- 
 horns we uster have. Lots of times the horns was so wide 
 we couldn't get a steer loaded into a box-car till we'd 
 sawed off the horns. And wild — " he paused for adequate 
 words before he finished, "Say, they was a cross between 
 a deer an' a mountain-lion, so fur as disposition counts!" 
 
 "Well, I never feel safe except on my pony." 
 
 "Say, Mrs. Traynor, you're dead safe anywheres in 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 143 
 
 Arizona," the cowboy assured her earnestly. "Why, if 
 you was to walk over to that air herd, you'd stampede it 
 quick as a wink!" 
 
 Nell turned on him with dancing eyes, "For gracious r 
 sakes, Bronco ! Am I such a scarecrow as all that ? " 
 
 Bronco's face and ears grew red. "Oh, shucks! I 
 didn't mean to say it that way. But — you see — range- 
 stock is uster seein' men, foot or horseback — a woman in 
 petticoats is a new critter to 'em and plumb paralyzes a 
 herd. Thar was one time, though," he continued mourn- 
 fully, "I wisht so hard I was a woman that I derned nigh 
 prayed for petticoats." 
 
 He was immersed in deep thought for a few seconds, and 
 then he demanded suddenly, "Did the Boss ever tell you 
 about the time I fooled myself into thinkin' I was a bull- 
 fighter?" 
 
 ' 'No," was the reply, "but please tell me, won't you?" 
 
 "I don't mind it so much, now," Bronco grinned, "but 
 thar was a time when it sure made me sore to talk about 
 it. You see, I been to Mexico and seed a Mex bull-fighter. 
 The feller what fit the bull belt a red handkerchee out in 
 front of him, and when the bull lit out for him, he jest 
 stepped one side and the bull went runnin' past with the 
 handkerchee hangin' over his eyes, like a widder's veil. 
 Then the feller stuck a bunch of ribbons on the bull and 
 made it madder 'n a hornet, an' you can't blame a bull for 
 gettin' mad at being laughed at that way. It looked so 
 easy that I thought it wasn 't no trick noways — and I made 
 up my mind I'd do it myself, sometime." Nell faced him 
 expectantly. 
 
 "Well, one day I was ridin' over from Hot Springs by 
 the Mud Springs trail, and it was near supper time, when 
 the sun went down. I had twelve miles to ride and we 
 had a cranky cook at the ranch, an' I hadn't et anythin' 
 since five o'clock, sun-up. So, when I seen smoke comin' 
 from the camphouse at Mud Springs, you kin bet I humped 
 along pretty lively. 
 
144 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "A feller from the east was stayin' thar fer his health. 
 He was all alone, an' glad to have some one call on him 
 fer a change. I made myself as entertainin' as I knowed 
 how, hopin' fer an invite to chuck. He cooked over a camp- 
 fire, and said he wanted to get as near to Nature as he 
 could ; but I couldn't see any sense in what he said. Whilst 
 he kept on cookin' supper an' not savin' anythin' about 
 expect in' me to stay, I kept playin' fer time. 
 
 "Thar w r as an ol' buckskin cow standin' near in the 
 brush, and I tol' him about the bull-fight. He got inter- 
 ested, and I begin to see some chance of chawin' that grub 
 before long. Then I got smart and offered to show him 
 how they done it. He said I'd better not try it. Of 
 course, I was only bluffin' at first, but when he said that, 
 it called my bluff. I ambled over to thet ol' buckskin bag 
 o' bones and guv her a crack over the ridge-pole with my 
 riata, but she never even looked at me. She was thet ol' 
 thet she must of been one of the great-grandmothers' of the 
 herd, and when I seen that I got brash." Bronco stared 
 across space, his hands dropping limp between his knees. 
 
 "I caught holt of her tail and twisted it, then I slapped 
 her jaw. She woke up some, an' I danced in front of her 
 like a locoed ijit, wavin' my red handkerchee an' yellin' 
 like an Apache on the war-path. She guv one beller, put 
 her nose to the ground and come at me in dead earnest to 
 make me understand that a lady cow her age can't be 
 trifled with. 
 
 "The tenderfoot yelled, "Look out!" and made for a 
 walnut tree and shinnied up it, and thar he set peepin ' out 
 like a skeered chipmunk. I wisht I was up thar longside 
 of him, but had to get busy doin' what the bull-fighter done. 
 So, I stood thar and helt that durned handkerchee out in 
 front of me, jest like I seed him do, but, honest Injun! 
 I'd ruther hed a solid adobe wall in front of me just then. 
 Well, that doggone animile got five feet away, and then I 
 seen that she had both eyes wide open, instead of shettin* 
 her eyes like a bull does when he charges. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 145 
 
 "It paralyzed me so I f ergot to move thet piece of red 
 ealicer and jest stood thar holdin' it in front of me, whilst 
 that damned tenderfoot was whoopin' and screechin' his 
 head off, 'She's a comin'! She's a comin'!' Jest as if I 
 didn't know it a heap sight better 'n he did! Thar wasn't 
 any chanct left to run, and that ol' cow sure did come. 
 
 "She hit me squar and knocked the wind plum outen 
 me, and I went down an' chawed adobe dirt. She made 
 holes all over my clothes, tromped me from head to foot, 
 rolled me over and over like I was a chunk of biscuit dough, 
 then she guv a snort and went off in the brush." Nell's 
 eyes were dancing and she leaned forward eagerly. 
 
 "I picked myself up," his voice was mournful, "just as 
 the tenderfoot dumb down from his perch. Neither one 
 of us said a word. He was too scairt to talk and I was too 
 mad. The coffee pot was upset, the dinner burnt to a 
 cinder. I got on my horse and hit the trail for home. I 
 tol' the boys that my pony slid down the side of a cailon 
 with me, and they'd never knowed the difference if that 
 damned tenderfoot hadn't come a humpin' down the next 
 day to see if I was hurt very bad." He heaved a sigh, and 
 kicked at a stone beside his foot. 
 
 "I got even with thet ol' cow, though. She was in the 
 last bunch we shipped for Kansas City, and I seen to it 
 that she didn't get cut outen the herd. But, I'll never for- 
 get her so long as thar is a buckskin cow in Arizona Ter- 
 ritory. The boys won't give me a chanct;" he paused, 
 gazed reflectively across the Valley, then added dolefully, 
 "I'll never be happy until I see some bigger fool than my- 
 self, buyin' all the ol' buckskin cows in Arizona to ship 
 'em down to Mexico for bull fights." 
 
 Nell's laughter reached Powell, Traynor and Paddy as 
 they approached where she sat. 
 
 "This is Paddy Lafferty, Nell," said Traynor. "He 
 has given an option on his ranch and cattle to Doctor 
 Powell." 
 
 She looked up at a tall, gaunt old man with stooping 
 
146 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 shoulders and joints that seemed to be held together by- 
 loose wires, like a jointed doll subjected to much handling. 
 
 Paddy regarded Nell sharply from under his ragged eye- 
 brows, but as she rose and held out her hand, smiling into 
 his face, she unconsciously won a loyal friend. 
 
 He squatted down on the ground beside her and listened 
 to her merry comments on the cattle business. Limber and 
 Bronco, a short distance away on their ponies, noted the 
 episode. 
 
 "She's sure a thoroughbred prize-winner! Ain't she, 
 Limber?" observed Bronco admiringly. 
 
 "You bet! She gets her brand on every cowpuncher 
 that comes on her range, and the Kid is jest the same." 
 
 "Oh, say! Loco's here. Lookin' for a job. Green 
 "Whiskers sol' out last week. Went back to Utah, Loco 
 says. He's sure aching to get married," grinned Bronco. 
 "It's kept him busy shavin' and cuttin' his hair, lately." 
 
 "Loco's a good roper. Of course, he gets them crazy 
 fits, but he's never harmed any one round here. Well 
 need some extra hands, now, with Doctor Powell buy in' 
 Paddy's herd. We'll have to tail 'em in, so I'll see the 
 Boss about hirin' Loco whilst we got a chanct to get him." 
 
 Bronco nodded, for tailing a herd meant extra work, as 
 each animal had to be caught, the long hair on its tail cut 
 off, and thus a tally of numbers was made without re- 
 branding. It was only done when an entire herd was sold 
 and the brand included in the sale. 
 
 "Tell him about that mix-up in the strays," called Bronco 
 after Limber, as the foreman rode toward Traynor. 
 
 While Limber's pony rubbed noses with Traynor 's horse, 
 Limber suggested employing Loco. Traynor assented 
 readily. Then Limber continued, "I don't know just how 
 to figger it out, but some one's tryin' to make trouble for 
 the Diamond II." 
 
 "How's that?" demanded Traynor, quickly. 
 
 "Well, two weeks ago Bronco seen a Diamond II calf, 
 new-branded, following a Bar 77 cow. He thought it was 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 147 
 
 just a mistake, so vented it. Then a few days later me and 
 Holy run into two calves with the Diamond II and one was 
 followin' a Fly-in* V cow, and the other was suckin' a Three 
 Moon. We straightened that out, and since then we've 
 come across six calves marked with the Diamond H and 
 every durned one of 'em is suckin' a cow with a different 
 brand. We got to stop it quick." 
 
 Traynor's eyebrows knit angrily, "Any of them here?" 
 
 "Four in the stray herd," Limber replied, and without 
 further conversation they rode to the strays, where several 
 neighbouring ranchers and a few cowpunchers sat on their 
 ponies. They looked curiously at Traynor and his men, 
 who met the looks steadily. 
 
 "Limber has just reported to me about these calves with 
 the Diamond H brand," he scanned each face for sign of 
 disbelief. "I don't think it is necessary for me to say that 
 not one of the men belonging to the Diamond II ranch 
 branded those calves. A single instance might occur to 
 any one, as you all know, but this is being done systemati- 
 cally, and evidently with the intention of causing hard 
 feelings. If any of you hear or see any more of this work, 
 let me know at once, and help me find out who is at the 
 bottom of it. I'll pay five hundred dollars for proof 
 against the man who is putting my brand on these calves. 
 I will report this to the Live Stock Sanitary Board at once, 
 and advertise my offer of reward." 
 
 He turned to Limber and Bronco, saying, "Cut out those 
 calves and vent them at once, boys," and they hastened to 
 obey. 
 
 "None of us laid the blame on the Diamond H," said 
 Jones, who owned the Flying V Bar. "None of us knew 
 about this work until Limber told us and pointed out the 
 calves in the stray herd. The fellow who is doing this 
 would treat any of us the same way, and it's things like 
 this that start real trouble. We've got to work together 
 to catch him. When we do, we'll run him out of the coun- 
 try." 
 
148 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "Better keep him in the country, under six feet of 
 earth," growled Holy with a few complimentary remarks, 
 then he glanced around quickly to see whether Nell were 
 within earshot. 
 
 And as a result of this episode, a week later Traynor ad- 
 vertised offering five hundred dollars reward for detection 
 of the trouble-maker, while an additional five hundred dol- 
 lars was offered by the combined other cattlemen whose 
 calves had been misbranded; but from that time on there 
 was no cause for further complaint. The matter remained 
 a mystery. 
 
I 
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 44 "IT THINK I will go over to the Springs in the morn- 
 ing," said Powell to Traynor a week after the 
 rodeo, as they sat in the court enjoying after-dinner 
 cigars. 
 
 "Oh, by the way," Traynor interjected, "I had a talk 
 with Paddy yesterday. He wants the privilege of staying 
 at the PL ranch house for a month after the cattle are 
 tallied in. I rather believe the old fellow hates to leave the 
 place." 
 
 1 ' How about arranging to have him stay permanently 1 ' ' 
 suggested Powell. "Limber says some one would have to 
 be there to look after the windmill and water. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I think Paddy would be glad to do it. He hates moun- 
 tain work, but he's good anywhere on the flats, and he's 
 as honest as the sun. With Limber at the Springs working 
 across the backbone of the Galiuros, we would consolidate 
 the work of both ranges, and our relative expenses could 
 be adjusted without difficulty. I believe Paddy would be 
 glad to take a small sum monthly, and have his grub pro- 
 vided, and feed for that scarecrow of a horse that he thinks 
 so much of." 
 
 "Won't you need Limber here?" protested Powell. 
 
 "I can arrange the work with him so that he can stay 
 part of each week at the Springs. So you need not hesi- 
 tate on that account. We have to ride in the Hot Springs 
 section every few weeks. Many of our cattle drift over 
 there. It's a wild range, and unless the men ride among 
 the stock at frequent intervals, the cattle become too wild 
 to be handled to an advantage. There are five and six 
 
 149 
 
150 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 year old steers back in the mountains there, that will never 
 be caught except with a bullet — and even then you would 
 have to have the wind in your favour to get in range. They 
 are worse than deer." 
 
 "Suppose I talk to Limber? I don't want him to go 
 unless he wishes it." 
 
 "He's taken a liking to you," was Traynor's reply, "and 
 I'm sure the plan will suit him. But, decide that for your- 
 selves. If he doesn't want to go, Bronco or Holy would 
 do, but Limber would be more congenial, I thought," 
 
 "Limber is one of the finest characters I have ever met," 
 was Powell's remark as he rose and moved toward the en- 
 trance of the court leading to the bunk-house. "I'll have 
 a talk with him, now." 
 
 A light streamed from the open door of the bunk-house 
 where the cowpunchers sat smoking anc] talking. Bronco, 
 at a small table, was immersed in the pages of a gigantic 
 mail order catalogue. A sheet of paper and bottle of ink 
 portended a purchase. Powell sauntered in, found a seat 
 on an iron cot, lit a cigarette and glanced around at them 
 all. It was a delicate compliment that no one greeted his 
 entrance formally. It proved that he was "one of the 
 bunch." 
 
 Bronco's face was contorted as he began writing on the 
 printed order sheet of the merchant enterprising enough 
 to send out catalogues broadcast. It was good business 
 strategy, for when the long winter evenings held forth, the 
 big catalogue was the center of attraction on many ranches, 
 and thus articles were ordered with sublime disregard as 
 to utility or cost. 
 
 "What you sendin' fer this time, Bronc?" questioned 
 Holy, curiously. 
 
 "Accorjon," the reply was punctuated with scratching 
 pen that spluttered ink over the order list. "Thar's a book 
 goes with it, tellin' you how to play in two hours." 
 
 "Say," Roarer leaned forward with interest, "why don't 
 you get a talkin' machine like the feller that spit his teeth 
 
Wt 
 
 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 151 
 
 out. Look 'em up. We could chip in and get one, maybe. 
 It'd be easier on you — an' us, too." 
 
 With Powell's aid a small talking-machine was decided 
 upon, and Bronco conscientiously inked out the previous 
 order and substituted the latest one. Then each man in- 
 sisted that the record of his favourite "tune" be included 
 — Golindrina, Over the Waves, Where is my Wandering 
 Boy Tonight, Home, sweet Home, and My Bonnie lies over 
 the Ocean — exhausted their repertoire. 
 
 "Six," announced Bronco, "say that ain't enough. 
 Why, we kin sing all them without any talkin-machine. 
 We want somethin' we don't sing ourselves when we're 
 pun chin' cows." 
 
 Powell came to the rescue, and with his aid a list was 
 completed, including some really good music. He vetoed 
 the command to pick out "about twentjvfive or thirty dol- 
 lars' worth." 
 
 "That's a heap sight more sensible than gettin' a cob- 
 bler's outfit, like we done the other time," Limber com- 
 mented with a smile. 
 
 In answer to Powell's evident desire, he continued, 
 "Bronc and Holy seen it in the catalogue, an' it told how 
 much money you could save by mendin' your own shoes. 
 It was unhandy havin' to pack our boots to Willcox all the 
 time. Mostly we'd forgot to take 'em, or else forgot to 
 bring 'em home. We all rounded up our boots and Bronco 
 figgered that by mendin' 'em, we'd save pretty near two 
 
 eeks pay each." 
 
 "Well, it would of," defended Bronco, "But you fellers 
 
 ouldn 't wear 'em after I fixed 'em all up, and blacked 'em 
 too." 
 
 "We'd a wore 'em," retorted Roarer indignantly, "if we 
 could of got into 'em, but you'd made 'em all so tight that 
 no one could get a foot into them shoes. The wust of it was 
 that you went an' put extra soles on our good shoes and 
 spiled 'em along with the rest." 
 
 "Well, you seen me throw mine out the same time you 
 
152 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 fellers chucked yours into the dump heap, didn't you?" 
 
 Limber's mouth twitched and his eyes twinkled as he 
 turned to Powell, adding the climax, ' ' Say Doc, thar wasn 't 
 a pair of boots or shoes that one of us could get into, and 
 the day after Bronc finished up his work, we all got in the 
 spring wagon and druv to Willcox in our socks an' bought 
 shoes for the outfit before we could get to work." 
 
 "If you'd a gmv me another chanct," protested Bronco, 
 "I'd knowed better what to do, but anyway, it was a dandy 
 cobbler's outfit, and wuth the money we guv for it." 
 
 "What became of it?" demanded Powell when his laugh- 
 ter subsided. 
 
 "Thar was a Missionary come past here, gettin' money 
 for the heathens in Africa, and we donated the outfit to 
 him. He shore seemed pleased with it, but we always had 
 a sneakin' notion the heathens wasn't the ones that used 
 it. That Missionary was like a billy-goat, ready to take 
 anything you guv him, from a gold-mine to a empty tin 
 tomato can. Last we seen of him he was prospectin' for 
 Hasayampa Bill's lost mine, but nobody ain't heerd of his 
 findin' it, so fur." 
 
 "How did Hasayampa lose the mine?*" Powell inter- 
 rupted. "Or did he really ever own one?" 
 
 "We seen the beginning of it," Limber began, and Powell 
 scenting a story, settled with delighted anticipation. 
 
 "It started this way. We was workin' the rodeo back 
 of Dos Cabezas when we come across a seven-year ol' black 
 horse that was an outlaw. He belonged to the Bar X Bar 
 outfit, but they'd guv up tryin' to break him. For three 
 years the Boss of the Bar X Bar hed offered each Fourth 
 of July to give the horse to any man what'd ride him to a 
 finish. Thar was lots that tried it. He was a good horse 
 and worth considerable if he was busted. 
 
 "Hasayampa was workin' with us. He'd been havin' a 
 streak of hard luck. His only pony was lame and he 
 couldn't raise cash to buy another. You see, Hasayampa 
 had tried to teach a tenderfoot how to play Stud poker, 
 
lo 
 
 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 153 
 
 and that's about the poorest way I know to invest your 
 money, especially when the tenderfoot is dressed like a 
 minister — Hasayampa oughter knowed better. 
 
 "Howsomever, Hasayampa bet his lame pony that he 
 could ride that black horse, and of course, everybody took 
 him up. 
 
 "He roped and throwed it without any trouble, and got 
 the saddle on its back; then he jumped inter the saddle. 
 Up to then it was easy work, but afterwards — Say, Doc, 
 every one knows that a horse has only got four feet, but 
 thar wasn't a man watchin' that wasn't ready to bet it was 
 a centipede Hasayampa was tryin' to gentle. The horse 
 was called Black Devil, for thar wasn't a white hair on 
 him, and he sure deserved the rest of the name. 
 
 "Hasayampa stayed with him, all right, and what's more 
 we all seen him do it, an' I tell you we whooped like Injuns ! 
 The next clay Hasayampa quit work and left camp, riding 
 his new horse and leadin' the lame pony, and that was the 
 last we seen of him for over six months. 
 
 ' ' Then he blew in at the Diamond H, riding his old bay 
 pony, but he hadn't mutch to say — Seemed sorter down- 
 hearted like. 
 
 "Then some one ast him what he done with Black Devil 
 and this is what he tol' us. 
 
 "When Hasayampa was ridin' Black Devil that day he 
 busted him, the horse seemed to favour one hind foot — 
 acted like he'd sprained it. When Hasayampa started 
 doctorin ' it, he pretty near died with suprise, for thar was 
 a nice little nugget of gold smashed on the bottom of 
 Devil's foot, just like a corn. Well Hasayampa didn't 
 ose no time humpin' up to the placed he'd noticed Devil 
 impin', and he posted his location notice on the Buckin' 
 Bronco Mine. The lead was thar just in plain sight, he 
 said. We all had been campin' on a regular mint of gold 
 an' never knowed it. Leastways, that is what Hasayampa 
 told us. 
 
 "Well, he took Black Devil down to the blacksmith at 
 
154 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Dos Cabezas and hed some shoes made for him. He had 
 quite an argument with the blacksmith to get him to make 
 the shoes the way Hasayampa wanted 'em. He said that 
 after they got through, the blacksmith did what Hasayampa 
 told him." 
 
 Limber paused to light his cigarette, and philosophize, 
 "It don't pay to argue, if you kin help it. Hurts the other 
 party's feelin's when you get the best of him, an', 
 Hasayampa had fists on him like cannon balls when he 
 warmed up in a argument. All the same, you can't blame 
 the blacksmith for callin' Hasayampa a 'locoed ijit' when 
 you knowed the sort of hoss-shoes he ordered made. ' ' 
 
 "They was half-hollow, as if you dug a slot in 'em with 
 a jack-knife. After Devil was shod, Hasayampa got some 
 chamois skin, quick-silver and a small retort and went back 
 to his claim. 
 
 "Now, here's what Hasayampa tol' us all for gospel 
 truth, Doc. He put the quick-silver in the slots of them 
 hoss-shoes, then jumped on Black Devil and let him buck 
 up an' down that air claim. Hasayampa said it beat any 
 four-stamp mill he ever seed. Then he got down and 
 scraped the silver outen the hoofs, squoze it in the chamois 
 bag and fired it in his retort to separate the gold. Hasay- 
 ampa cleaned up a hundred dollars' wuth the fust day. 
 
 "It didn't take Black Devil long to understand his job 
 o. k. That hoss would just wait for his shoes to be silvered, 
 then go hisself and buck around, only stoppin ' to come and 
 git his shoes scraped and re-filled. Meanwhile Hasayampa, 
 seein' Black Devil was handlin' his end of the partner- 
 ship, put in all his own time runnin' the other end of the 
 business, squozin' the quick-silver, firin' the gold and 
 mouldin' it inter bricks. 
 
 "Hasayampa figured out jest how long it would take to 
 make him a billionaire, and he'd a done it if it hadn't been 
 for the earthquake in May '91. It did everlastingly shake 
 up the country around here, and lots of permanent springs 
 went plumb dry and never run again. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 155 
 
 "Hasayampa had gone to Willcox to ship some bricks 
 to the 'Frisco Mint, when he felt that earthquake, and he 
 begun to worry about Devil, for he had turned him loose for 
 a vacation. He humped back to the claim, and when he got 
 thar he said he seen a white horse standin' with his head 
 hangin' down like he was asleep; but never a sign of Black 
 Devil nowhar. 
 
 " Whilst he was puzzling over what had became of Black 
 Devil, he swars he seen that air white hoss raise his head, 
 lift his hind foot, then begin buckin' in a dazed sorter way. 
 It was Black Devil, and the shock hed turned his hair snow 
 white. 
 
 "Hasayampa said the Buckin' Bronco Mine hed dis- 
 appeared off'n the face of the yearth. He tried to make 
 Black Devil understand that he warn't to blame for losin' 
 the mine, but the hoss wouldn't eat nothin'. He'd just 
 buck around, feeble-like, lift his leg and look at it, and 
 then he laid down an' died." 
 
 Powell's laughter rang through the room. "What a 
 pity such a genius as Hasayampa had to die," he finally 
 gasped. 
 
 "Say, Doc," Limber spoke, "Hasayampa onct said that 
 a man back east was willin' to pay for his yarns if he'd take 
 time to write 'em down. He ast us what we thought about 
 it, and we all tol' him that if any feKer did say that, he was 
 a bigger liar than Hasayampa and could write stories him- 
 self, an' Hasayampa said he guessed that was true. Do 
 you, honestly, believe anyone would of paid for 'em?" 
 
 ' ' I certainly do, ' ' was the positive answer. ' ' Hasayampa 
 deserves a monument to his memory ! By the way, I never 
 heard anyone tell how he died, but I'm pretty sure he did 
 it in some original way." 
 
 Limber's face grew serious, and a lighted match in his 
 hand flickered out. He watched it thoughtfully. 
 
 "Thar is a monument to Hasayampa," he said slowly. 
 " 'Tain't very big, nor very grand, and thar ain't many 
 people knows whar it is, but it 's a monument, all the same. 
 
156 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Hasayampa never tol' this story, but the woman did tell it. 
 
 "She was jest a common sorter woman, not young, nor 
 pretty, nor anything like that, an' it was out in the Yuma 
 desert. Hasayampa was prospectin', and he rid along past 
 the place where she was camped with her man. It's funny 
 that a woman thet ain 't married to a man will put up with 
 heaps of abuse, but them women that hangs around mining 
 camps seems to think it all goes in the game. So when she 
 done somethin' that riled up the man, he up and busted her 
 over the head with a stick of wood and she went down like 
 she was dead. 
 
 "Hasayampa jumped off'n his hoss and lit into the man, 
 and the feller knifed him, then run away, leavin' Hasa- 
 yampa lyin' thar a dyin'. 
 
 1 ' After awhile the woman come back to her senses, and she 
 done all she knowed how; but he was too bad off. The 
 feller that run was wanted for murder up in Montana, the 
 woman said. He had took the two horses they had been 
 ridin' and Hasayampa 's pony, too; but what was wuss than 
 everythin' else, he hed carted off all the water thar was in 
 their canteens and left them without a drop. 
 
 "She said when she told Hasayampa that she wasn't a 
 respectable woman — jest a camp-follower, an' no decent 
 man had any call to fight for her, he jest looked at her an' 
 smiled an' said, "You're a woman. He hadn't no right to 
 hit you." 
 
 "He died that night in the dark, and she sat and helt 
 his hand till sun-up, then she scraped a shallow grave with 
 her bare hands and put him in an' covered him over the 
 best she could. After that she started to hunt the trail. 
 She walked around all day and was beginning to get desert- 
 crazy when some men found her. It was too late. She 
 died in a couple of hours, but she tol' about Hasayampa 
 and ast if they'd bury her alongside of him, because it 
 wouldn't seem so lonesome. An' they done it. So thar's 
 a big cross over them both, with their names on it. Of 
 course, we all knowed Hasayampa couldn't tell the truth 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 157 
 
 if he tried, Doc, but when folks heerd about the way he 
 died, everyone took off his hat to Hasayampa, you bet, for 
 Hasayampa never done dirt to nobody." 
 
 "Did they catch the man?" 
 
 "Not that any one knowed of. That's one of the things 
 that puzzles me. Why people what plays a square game 
 is sometimes so out of luck. Seems as if they must of been 
 put down with the grain of the table runnin' against 'em 
 when they was started at the game, or else the Dealer 
 stacked the cards. But, it 'tain't so mutch to a feller's 
 credit holdin' a Royal Flush as it is to keep on playin' a 
 square game to a finish when he ain't dealt no thin' but 
 deuces and treys." 
 
 "You're right, Limber," said Powell, who was learning 
 to find the gold beneath the surface. 
 
 He moved to the door, followed by Limber, and for a 
 second they stood looking up into the deep blue of the sky 
 where the countless stars, like clear-cut diamonds, trembled 
 and blinked as though held on threads of silver by the 
 mighty hand of the Creator. 
 
 "Come into my room," invited Powell, "I want to talk 
 business with you, Limber." 
 
 The cowboy nodded, and when they were seated and the 
 smoke of their cigars blended, Powell explained the plan of 
 combining the work of the two ranges, adding as he finished ; 
 "I told Mr. Traynor that it is entirely up to you. I don't 
 want you there unless you really would like to go. It 
 would double your pay and make you range foreman of all 
 of the ranches owned by Mr. Traynor and myself. I will 
 have my hands full, getting the Sanitarium built, and we 
 would leave the management of my cattle business ab- 
 solutely to you. How does it strike you? Don't hesitate 
 to speak plainly." 
 
 "So fur as I'm concerned, I'd ruther be over there. It's 
 this way, Doc. Glendon ain't runnin' very straight, and 
 nobody seems to give a damn exceptin' me. I'd like to do 
 what I can for him, and though I don't know as I could 
 
158 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 do anythin' — you never can tell what '11 turn up. 'Tain't 
 right leavin' Donnie and Mrs. Glendon there by themselves 
 the way he does. Glen told me he was goin' to quit as soon 
 as he got a chanct; but if he stays here much longer he's 
 bound to mix up in trouble. He's runnin' with a pretty 
 bad bunch now. Another thing," the cowpuncher hesi- 
 tated, "Thar's a Mexican girl named Panchita. I guess 
 Mrs. Glendon is about the only one who don't know about 
 her. Glen's plumb locoed over the girl and that's whar 
 his money goes, when he gets hold of any." 
 
 Powell started angrily, "The cur ! With such a wife and 
 boy! Limber, sometimes I feel ashamed to call myself a 
 man, when such creatures as Glendon are known as men." 
 
 "Mebbe Glen don't figger just what it is leadin' up to. 
 He was a mighty different sorter person when he fust come 
 here, and everyone liked him. He'd get full onct in a 
 while, but he played white until this last couple of years. 
 He's just the wrong kind of a man for Arizona. Take 
 him some other place and mebbe he'd manage to average 
 up pretty fair with the rest of the bunch; but he's sure 
 goin' the wrong trail here." 
 
 The cowboy rose, and Powell held out his hand impul- 
 sively, saying, "All right, Limber. We pull together." 
 
 "So long as you want me, Doc." 
 
 Their hands gripped and as they looked into each other's 
 eyes, both men recognized a bond that was stronger than 
 blood — the brotherhood of real men. 
 
 After Limber had gone, Doctor Powell sat meditating 
 over what the cowboy had told him concerning Glendon. 
 The wreaths of smoke that rose from his cigar framed a 
 shadowy vision of Katherine Glendon 's face, and Powell 
 wondered vaguely where he had seen her before they met 
 in the cave near the Circle Cross. Memory refused to aid 
 him. 
 
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 POWELL and Chappo were alone in the new home 
 at Hot Springs ranch. Limber had gone to the 
 Diamond H in order to adjust the final details of 
 the joint range work. 
 
 While the Mexican busied himself in the kitchen, Powell 
 smoked contentedly in the living-room as he sat before the 
 fire of blazing mesquite knots. He glanced about the 
 home-like place, with its red-shaded lamp on a large table 
 that was strewn with magazines. A desk occupied one end 
 of the room and book shelves held well-worn volumes at the 
 opposite end. The couch, which was covered with a glow- 
 ing Indian blanket and mannish pillows, harmonized with 
 the massive brown leather chairs and Navajo rugs on the 
 floor. The pictures bore signatures of well-known artists. 
 
 I 'It's just what I've wanted all these years," said 
 Powell aloud. The collie pup at his feet looked up with 
 questioning eyes, then telegraphed reply with bushy tail. 
 The man leaned over and patted the dog's head before 
 selecting a magazine and settling down for the evening. 
 
 II Buenos noches, Senor," Chappo smiled politely, his 
 shabby sombrero in hand. 
 
 "Buenos noches, Chappo," answered Powell, whose life 
 for several years in a South American mining camp had 
 familiarized him with the language and the type of people 
 found in all Latin- American sections. A fortunate mining 
 investment during those years had awakened a love of the 
 untrammeled outdoors, and also made it possible for him to 
 carry on his plans for a sanitarium. 
 
 After Chappo had departed for his bunk-room, the 
 doctor became absorbed in his book. Three hours passed, 
 
 15D 
 
160 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 then the drowsing- collie started with a muffled growl and 
 sharply cocked ears. 
 
 "What's the matter, old chap?" 
 
 The dog leaped up ran to the door whimpering, and 
 Powell went on the front porch. It was too dark to discern 
 anything and no unusual sounds reached the man, but the 
 dog, with a hysterical yelp darted from the porch into the 
 shadows. The short, sharp barks that broke the stillness 
 were barks of welcome such as always greeted the doctor 
 upon his return to the ranch. 
 
 A woman's voice spoke to the dog, and Powell ran 
 quickly in the direction the collie had taken. The way led 
 to the Circle Cross; the voice was that of Glendon's wife. 
 
 "Be quiet, Tatters," called Powell. As the noise abated, 
 he reached Katherine Glendon's side, and in the faint light 
 saw that she was carrying Donnie. 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad you are home!" she exclaimed. 
 "Donnie is hurt, I don't know how badly — but his arm is 
 broken. ' ' 
 
 Already the doctor had reached for the child. 
 
 1 ' Let me have him. Don 't try to explain anything now. ' ' 
 
 They hurried toward the house, entered the room and 
 Powell laid the child on the couch. The doctor knelt down 
 beside the almost unconscious boy, then with gentle touch 
 felt the broken arm. Chappo came through the door, his 
 faded brown eyes were full of pity as he watched the 
 mother who stood with tightly gripped hands waiting the 
 doctor's words. 
 
 Donnie looked at her, his quivering lips showed the 
 effort to control his emotions when he tried to move his arm 
 and saw that it was broken. 
 
 "It really don't hurt very much, Marmee," he said 
 stoutly as Powell finished the examination and rose to his 
 feet. 
 
 "We'll fix you up in no time," the doctor announced 
 cheerily. "Nothing the matter with you except a broken 
 bone, and that is in the very best place it could happen." 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 161 
 
 He turned to Katherine and continued, " Don't worry, 
 Mrs. Glendon. A healthy child's bones knit quickly and 
 perfectly. It's a simple fracture, fortunately, and above 
 the elbow, so only one bone to knit. He'll be playing 
 around tomorrow." 
 
 Powell left her sitting by the couch, and Chappo listened 
 carefully to the doctor's low-voiced instructions which 
 were spoken in Spanish. 
 
 "I understand, Seiior," nodded the Mexican. "Lots of 
 times I have helped when there was no doctor. Horses, 
 cows, dogs, and people, all bones are the same." 
 
 The books on the table were removed for rolls of band- 
 ages and surgical splints, then Powell turned briskly to 
 Donnie and put his arm about the child's shoulder as he 
 said, "Now, old man, Chappo and I will take care of that 
 arm for you. It may hurt for a few seconds, but after that 
 it won't bother you at all." 
 
 "Let him brace himself against you, Mrs. Glendon," 
 continued the physican. 
 
 Chappo, at a nod from the doctor, grasped the boy's arm 
 and pulled steadily. Donnie 's face paled but not a sound 
 escaped his tightly set lips. The doctor's fingers pressed 
 the fractured bone and held it in place while the splints 
 were adjusted. A sling in which the hand rested, finished 
 the operation, then Powell arranged the pillows on the 
 couch. 
 
 "Take it easy now, old man," he said. "You're the 
 pluckiest boy I ever knew." 
 
 Donnie tried to smile, but tears filled his eyes and he 
 held out his uninjured hand to his mother. She sat on the 
 couch beside him smoothing his hair and talking in a low 
 voice, until at last, w T ith his right hand still clasped in hers' 
 he fell asleep. 
 
 "All right now," Powell assured her, as he put away the 
 articles on the table. "He is exhausted from the nerve 
 shock, nothing more." 
 
 The doctor glanced at Katherine and exclaimed, "Bless 
 
162 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 my heart ! You need attention almost as badly as Donnie." 
 
 He left the room and returned with a glass. "Just a 
 little port wine. Drink every drop of it," he ordered. 
 
 Her hand shook as she lifted the glass to her white lips, 
 then she held out the empty glass and sank into a chair that 
 Powell rolled before the fireplace. Her eyes closed wearily. 
 The doctor understood the over taxed nerves, and as he 
 glanced from mother to child, a feeling of rage against 
 GJendon consumed him. The only sound in the room was 
 the sputter of the burning wood. Katherine looked 
 anxiously at the sleeping child, then at the doctor. 
 
 "He's all right," Powell answered her unvoiced fear. 
 "It had been a terrible strain on you both. The bone will 
 begin to knit in a few days and Donnie will have nothing to 
 remind him of the accident in a short time. It's part of a 
 boy's life to have such things as broken legs and arms," he 
 smiled. 
 
 "Please don't think I am ungrateful. There are some 
 emotions one almost cannot express, because we feel them 
 too deeply for words. I don't know how to thank you." 
 
 "How did it happen?" asked Powell, trying to divert 
 her from any sense of obligation. 
 
 "It came so suddenly that it dazed me," she began. 
 "Last summer the wall of the bedroom bulged and Juan 
 made new adobes to fix it ; but Mr. Glendon has been too 
 busy to attend to it. We never thought of danger, for an 
 adobe wall often stands for years with big cracks in it, you 
 know. Donnie was sleeping next to the wall in my bed 
 when the crash came. The wall fell outward, but part of 
 the adobe struck his arm. It was dark. I spoke to him 
 and he did not answer. I thought he was dead until I 
 heard him moan." She stopped and bit her lip fiercely. 
 
 The doctor placed a fresh log on the fire, and while he 
 prodded the embers, the woman gained control of her 
 voice. 
 
 "I lit the candle, but when I looked at him he was 
 unconscious. I lifted him and when the bed covers fell 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 163 
 
 from his arm, I saw the bone had been broken. Then — I 
 thought of 3-0 u, and brought him here. ' ' 
 
 Powell knew that her fear that the child she carried 
 might be dying in her arms, or that she might not lind 
 anyone but Chappo at the Springs, must have made the 
 three-mile walk seem endless. 
 
 "Were you alone?" 
 
 "Yes. Juan is on the San Pedro for ten days and my 
 husband went to Willcox yesterday morning. He does not 
 expect to return home for a week. I had no horse or I 
 could have ridden here." 
 
 "You and Donnie must go to bed now and rest," com- 
 manded the doctor, cuttng short the words she was about 
 to utter. "I have a guest room and Chappo sees to every- 
 thing necessary, so you need not fear you are causing me 
 the least inconvenience. Tomorrow we can drive down to 
 your place and take inventory of the damage? Since Juan 
 has the adobes ready to use, Chappo and I can fix up the 
 wall. I learned all about adobes while I lived in South 
 America eight years ago." 
 
 "That was the same year we came here," commented 
 the woman. 
 
 Powell smothered an ejaculation of indignation and 
 wonder at her endurance of such a life. "Yet," he mused, 
 "a bruised flower becomes more fragrant." His elbow 
 rested on the mantle and he looked down, studying her face 
 line by line. Again that vague resemblance baffled him 
 until he recalled a stream near his boyhood home, where a 
 shallow current reached a bend and formed a deep pool. 
 He had loved to sprawl on the bank and gaze into the won- 
 derful, ever-changing reflections, where rough trees were 
 softened, the sky became more blue and the many-hued 
 flowers more beautiful. It was a magic pool to his boyish 
 eyes; in later years he called it his Pool of Illusion. 
 
 Down in its mysterous depths lived a shadowy form. 
 A woman's face with steadfast eyes looked back into his 
 own, understanding his unspoken dreams, while her slender 
 
164 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 white hands were held out to him. The longing to touch 
 them was actual physical pain, and often he dived into 
 the water, but the vision vanished in the ripples. He had 
 gone his way, looking into many women's faces in many 
 lands, always hoping to find what he had seen in his Pool 
 of Illusion, but the years of search had been fruitless. 
 
 Tonight the firelight from his hearth flickered across 
 that dream face. 
 
 The dream and reality blended so perfectly that it 
 startled him when Katherine rose from her chair and held 
 out her hand, saying, "I do thank you with all my heart. 
 I shall never forget what you have done for us. Maybe 
 some day I can show my gratitude." 
 
 "Please don't speak of it again," he replied, and seeing 
 Donnie on his feet, Powell added, "Good night, old man. 
 
 "It's lucky that adobe fell on the left hand, for it's much 
 harder to learn to use it. My right arm was broken when 
 I was your age. It's funny, though, how quickly my left 
 hand learned to work like its twin brother. After my arm 
 was well, I used my left hand much of the time." 
 
 Mother and child entered the cheerful guest room and 
 for a while Powell heard their voices through the closed 
 door. He sat by the dying embers of the fire. He had 
 found the woman of the Pool. She was the wife of his 
 neighbour Glendon. The realization of his dream was 
 more unattainable than ever, but his bitterness held an 
 undercurrent of happiness in knowing that he might be 
 able to ease the burden she was bearing so bravely. 
 
 With a sudden movement he touched the chair where her 
 head had rested. Then he turned out the lamp and went 
 to his own room, but that night in his dreams he saw the 
 Woman of the Pool sitting again before his fireplace, and 
 a child leaned against her shoulder. As he drew nearer, 
 her lips smiled and her eyes met his in perfect confidence 
 and understanding. 
 
 He held out his arms to her and the child, for they were 
 his own. 
 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 THE next morning when Powell entered the living 
 room before breakfast, he found Katherine and 
 Donnie already there. The child, though pale, 
 smiled shyly at the Doctor. 
 
 " Hello! How's the arm this morning, Donnie?" 
 
 "It doesn't hurt at all," replied the child, while his 
 mother held out her hand to her host and spoke, c ' He slept 
 splendidly all night, so I know he did not suffer." 
 
 The doctor's answer was interrupted by Chappo at the 
 door leading into the dining-room. The Mexican smiled 
 mysteriously and beckoned Donnie, who glanced at his 
 mother, then at her nod of acquiescence, the boy followed 
 in Chappo 's wake. The noise of sharp barks and childish 
 ejaculation mingled with a stream of chatter in Spanish 
 between the child and Mexican in the kitchen. The door 
 closed, and Katherine and Powell were left alone. 
 
 Her eyes wandered to the sketches on the walls, and the 
 doctor rose, saying, "My pictures and books have travelled 
 with me to many strange lands, but this is the first time 
 they have really seemed to be at home." 
 
 She followed him as he pointed out special pictures, and 
 told some intimate detail of the artist's life, for the 
 pictures had been gifts from their creators, his per- 
 sonal friends. Most of the signatures were world-known. 
 Katherine turned to the rows of books, and recognizing 
 many old friends whom she had not seen for years, she 
 dropped impulsively on the floor and touched them with 
 caressing fingers, her face alight with a radiant smile. 
 Powell read the book-hunger, and begged her to select as 
 many as she pleased. 
 
 165 
 
166 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "I love my books as few men love their friends," he 
 said earnestly, standing above her and taking a rare first 
 edition from its place. "They will be enhanced in value 
 if you will only share them with me, so I can talk about 
 them with you sometime." 
 
 Together they selected, while Katherine crouched on the 
 floor read the titles, commenting and questioning, as they 
 agreed or disagreed. 
 
 "It's like a child with a big box of candy," she laughed 
 as she rose, assisted by Powell, who carried a number of 
 chosen books and placed them upon the table. "I don't 
 know what to start with." 
 
 She settled again in the chair before the fireplace, and 
 the conversation slipped by degrees into the doctor's work 
 in the east, and his plan to transform the Hot Springs 
 ranch into a sanitarium for poor, tubercular children. 
 
 "My work in hospitals taught me the need of such a 
 place. There are thousands of children who die each year 
 because they lack the things Nature provides, pure air, 
 nourishing food and an outdoor playground in this wonder- 
 ful climate with its magical healing powers. I believe that 
 environment can conquer heredity, in physical as well as 
 moral conditions. You cannot realize what child-life 
 means in the slums of our crowded cities of the east, Mrs. 
 Glendon," he turned a face full of enthusiasm and her own 
 glowed in response. "The first step was my good fortune 
 in getting this place. It will take time, money and labour, 
 but I know it is worth the effort." 
 
 "It will be wonderful to watch you develope your plans ! 
 Thank you for telling me about it all !" 
 
 Chappo appeared and announced breakfast, and Powell 
 with Mrs. Glendon found Donnie already waiting them. 
 The collie, Tatters, was beside the child, and it was evident 
 a friendship had been cemented between the two. 
 
 The little Mexican cook beamed with pleasure as he in- 
 stalled Mrs. Glendon at the end of the table and placed the 
 cofTee-pot before her. Chappo and Juan were old friends, 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 167 
 
 so Katherine and Donnie knew him well. His reputation 
 as a cook was demonstrated in the meal he served, and he 
 watched jealously that nothing was neglected. Donnie 's 
 attention was divided between his mother, the doctor and 
 Tatters. The dog sat beside the boy's chair, occasionally 
 poking his nose against Donnie 's knee to remind him that 
 he, too, liked butter muffins and tidbits of bacon. 
 
 Donnie patted him, but hesitated to respond to the dog's 
 appeals, then as the child looked down and broke into a 
 sudden burst of hearty laughter, Katherine was startled 
 into the realization that it was the first time she had ever 
 heard her boy laugh like other children. 
 
 "Look, Marmee!" 
 
 The dog, believing his wheedling ineffectual, was sitting 
 on his haunches uncertainly, waving his paws frantically 
 in efforts to keep balanced. It was hard work for a puppy, 
 and his wildly rolling eyes made him more ridiculous. 
 Even Chappo joined in the laughter with the doctor and 
 Katherine. Tatters, understanding approval, barked and 
 danced about them, until Powell tossed a piece of muffin 
 which the dog caught and gulped down. 
 
 "I'm afraid I am not bringing him up properly," 
 apologized the doctor, "but we are alone so much and he is 
 such an intelligent, affectionate dog, that I spoil him. He 
 thinks your breakfast must be better than mine, Donnie," 
 he ended as the dog rejected a bit of muffin proffered by 
 Powell and swallowed what Donnie held out. 
 
 At last breakfast was over, and the little party stood on 
 the porch, prepared to start for the Circle Cross. Tat- 
 ters yelped and begged to be included, but his special efforts 
 were directed at Donnie. 
 
 "He seems to have adopted you, Donnie," the doctor 
 laughed. "If your mother does not object, I think Tatters 
 would be a fine friend for you." 
 
 "If he were a less valuable dog — " began Katherine, but 
 Powell cut short her protests by his answer. 
 
 "It is natural for a boy to have a dog. A pup will 
 
168 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 desert a man anytime to respond to a boy's smile. If the 
 dog will not cause you any annoyance, I'd be happy to 
 know he was with Donnie. Tatters is unusually intelligent 
 and affectionate, almost uncannily so at times. He would 
 be a loyal friend." 
 
 Donnie watched with appealing eyes, and when his mother 
 accepted the dog for him, the child's right arm went 
 around Tatters' shaggy neck, and the dog, as though under- 
 standing, pledged his fealty with a quick touch of his pink 
 tongue against the lad's cheek. Then Chappo drove the 
 buggy from the stable and stood at the head of the team 
 until Powell, Donnie and Katherine were seated and the 
 reins in the doctor's hands. 
 
 The Mexican mounted a pony and loped ahead of the 
 handsome span of fast trotters, while Tatters yelped before 
 them, dashing away from the road into the brush to chase 
 imaginary foes. They reached the Circle Cross and after 
 an inspection of the broken wall, Chappo asserted he could 
 fix it unassisted in a couple of days, since the adobe bricks 
 were in good condition in the shed where Juan had stored 
 them the previous summer. No damage had been done to 
 the room inside, or the furniture. 
 
 "I think you and Donnie had better remain at the 
 Springs until the place is fixed," suggested Powell. "The 
 wall will be damp for a week, you know." 
 
 "If my bed is moved into the corner of the dining-room, 
 Donnie and I can sleep there and get along splendidly;" 
 was Katherine 's answer. "The rest of the house is in good 
 condition. The bedroom was the only room when we 
 came here, and we built on the other three rooms. The old 
 wall at the side of the house cracked last spring, and the 
 rains weakened it, as the roof leaked badly. I noticed the 
 crack widening several weeks ago, but you know, an adobe 
 wall holds together when any other material would break 
 away. We did not dream there was any immediate danger 
 of its falling." 
 
 "I'll help Chappo," asserted Powell, despite her protest 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 169 
 
 that the repairs could wait until Juan and her husband 
 returned, and Powell and Chappo began their task. 
 
 Donnie and Tatters trotted to and fro, as Chappo 
 wheeled the adobe bricks to Powell, who whistled cheerfully 
 as he laid them accurately on top of each other between the 
 soft layers of mud which he skillfully applied with a large 
 trowel. The whistle was interrupted by snatches of con- 
 versation between Chappo the doctor and Donnie, partly in 
 English and partly Spanish. 
 
 "Lunch is ready/ ' called Katherine through the kitchen 
 window. 
 
 "Fine!" answered Powell, "we're all good and hungry," 
 then followed the sounds of splashing water, and in a few 
 minutes Powell, with Donnie at his side, bustled into the 
 dining room announcing they were ready to eat the dishes. 
 
 It was a merry meal, and afterwards while Chappo was 
 eating his lunch, the doctor and Katherine sat on the porch 
 talking. Donnie perched on the lower step, his eyes be- 
 traying his admiration for the man who was unlike any 
 other man the child had ever known in his short life. 
 
 Work was resumed, and as it neared sunset, Powell said 
 that he must tighten the bandages on Donnie 's arm and 
 the adjustment was completed with Katherine 's aid. The 
 splints had held in place, and the doctor announced every- 
 thing satisfactory. 
 
 "I will be back early in the morning/ ' said the man, 
 £lasping Katherine 's extended hand. "Oh, by the way, 
 we killed a calf a few days ago, so I will bring down a loin. 
 Chappo and I are cultivating hearty appetites, you see!" 
 
 He was in the buggy before she could thank him, and 
 the team whirled away in a cloud of dust. 
 
 Katherine watched the buggy until it disappeared, then 
 Chappo and Donnie emerged from the stable and came 
 toward her, talking volubly in Mexican-Spanish — which the 
 boy had acquired from old Juan. Katherine had also fal- 
 len into the habit of using the same tongue when she and 
 Donnie were alone with Juan, whose one symptom of al- 
 
170 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 legiance to Mexico was his persistence in his native tongue, 
 though he spoke English fluently. 
 
 "I will feed the chickens and bring wood and water, 
 Seiiora," said Chappo; "then you can tell me what you 
 want me to do. The cow is milked." 
 
 "There is nothing more, thank you, Chappo ;" she re- 
 plied. "You can go home now, for Donnie and I will 
 manage nicely. " 
 
 "I stay here teel Senor Glendon and Juan come home. 
 El Doctor say 'stay.' " 
 
 "But, Chappo," she protested, "they may be away a 
 week or more. You must go home and look out for the 
 doctor. ' ' 
 
 "El Padrone say 'stay/ I must stay. He say, 'you 
 come home too queek, I fire you;' " the Mexican smiled 
 expansively, "Eet is all right, Sefiora. I stay!" 
 
 She realized that her objections were of no consequence 
 to either the Mexican or the doctor, and a sudden wave of 
 gratitude overwhelmed her. It was so new to have others 
 think of her comfort or safety, to have the heavy burden 
 lifted even for a few hours. What a difference it would 
 have made in her life and Donnie's if Glendon were only 
 a man like the doctor. Then there would have been no 
 loneliness in the canon, for the high walls could not have 
 held her happiness. Her heart would have sent its mes- 
 sage to every tree, bush, rock, bird and cloud, so that the 
 very universe might share her joy. 
 
 Early the next morning Donnie was on the watch for his 
 new friend, and his delight made him speechless when 
 Powell told the boy that the pony tied to the back of the 
 buggy was for him. 
 
 "He is too small to carry a man's weight," explained 
 Powell, "but he is perfectly gentle, so you need have no 
 fear." 
 
 "I can't let you do so much," faltered Katherine, "the 
 dog was more than enough. You are heaping a debt of 
 obligations that I cannot pay. Last night I tried to make 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 171 
 
 Chappo go home, but he refused. He said you had or- 
 dered him to remain, and that you would discharge him 
 if he disobeyed you. I know how many things need at- 
 tention on a ranch and it worries me to cause you any 
 further inconvenience. Donnie and I are used to being 
 aloue, you see, so there was no need of Chappo staying here 
 all night/ ' 
 
 "You must think I am a regular tenderfoot," retorted 
 Powell, smiling. "I have roughed it under the most primi- 
 tive conditions in South America, and am glad to do a 
 bit of hustling to wear off the rust. Civilization makes 
 many men helpless, you know." 
 
 "Then, let us compromise," she persisted. "Suppose 
 you come down for your dinner each night while Chappo 
 is here? I cannot consent to his remaining otherwise. 
 
 "Do you know," confessed Powell gaily, "that was what 
 I was hoping you would say!" 
 
 So, each afternoon following, when the shadows length- 
 ened in the canon, Donnie, watching down the road would 
 shout welcome, and Katherine coming on the porch, watched 
 Doctor Powell pause at the bend of the road, waiting for 
 the child, just as old Doctor King had formerly done, then 
 Donnie, perched on the saddle before the doctor, rode in 
 state to the front porch and his smiling mother. 
 
 On one of these rides, Donnie looked with serious eyes 
 at the man, and said, "When I grow up, I'm going to be a 
 doctor like you, and then, maybe, you'll let me come and 
 help you. Marmee says that helping others is just the 
 same as fighting in tour'ments or hunting the Sangrael!" 
 
 "Your mother is right, Donnie," was the grave reply. 
 "Someday I want you to be my partner, and we'll work 
 together. Now, remember, this is a contract between us, 
 and I won't forget my promise." 
 
 After dinner had been eaten each evening, a romp with 
 Donnie and Tatters, or teaching the dog a new trick, oc- 
 cupied Powell and the child, and later, Katherine and the 
 doctor sat on the little porch and talked of the doctor's 
 
172 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 plans, while Donnie leaned against his mother's knees lis- 
 tening intently, for someday, he, too, would help in the 
 doctor's work. The shadows in Katherine's eyes turned to 
 laughter, her face became girlish in relief from constant 
 worry, and Donnie watched her with adoring, wondering 
 eyes. 
 
 "Marmee's lots prettier when she laughs, isn't she, Doc- 
 tor?" asked the child suddenly one evening. 
 
 Katherine's eyes and Powell's met, and for the first 
 time a feeling of awkwardness tinged their comradeship, 
 but Powell relieved the situation with a laugh, as he said, 
 " Little boys are lucky, because they can say just what 
 they think, but grown-up people are not allowed to do it. 
 How is Pet today?" 
 
 Donnie launched upon a report of the most wonderful 
 pony in Arizona and the man kept plying him with ques- 
 tions until the strain of the situation had passed. But, 
 Katherine was unusually silent for the rest of the evening, 
 and the doctor rose early to say "Good night." He drove 
 home slowly, thoughtful, troubled and yet glad. No 
 matter what Fate might deny him in life, these wonderful 
 days could never be filched from the treasure-house of 
 Memory. 
 
 After Donnie had been tucked in bed, Katherine Glendon 
 sat in silent self-examination. She realized the happiness 
 of the last five days could not continue, but even though 
 she could not have the kindly friendship of the doctor, 
 it warmed her heart to know that for these few days they 
 had walked side by side as comrades. It had imbued her 
 with new hopes. Yet, she knew there was not the least 
 tinge of disloyalty to her husband in any word, deed or 
 thought. The pleasure she had experienced was as inno- 
 cent as that which she felt when she and Donnie, walking 
 in the canon, found a new flower. 
 
 So, with untroubled e3^es she knelt beside the bed where 
 her boy lay sleeping, and prayed for the child, then her 
 lips moved in a plea for the father of that child. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 173 
 
 The following day Glendon returned home in a repentant 
 mood, as was usual after a protracted carousal. He 
 thanked Chappo effusively, and to show his gratitude, held 
 out a whiskey bottle. But the little Mexican declined, "I 
 promise El Doctor I would not drink again. Eef I do, 
 maybe I die pretty queek, he say." 
 
 "Oh, a little whiskey once in a while won't hurt you," 
 urged Glendon, who always liked company when he was 
 drinking. 
 
 But Chappo was firm, though the battle was not won 
 without a hard struggle when the pungent odour from the 
 glass in Glendon 's extended hand reached the dwarf's 
 nostrils. Appreciating his own weakness, Chappo hastened 
 to the barn and saddled his pony without loss of time. 
 
 Then he rode to the door where Katherine stood. 
 "Adios, Sefiora. Yo me voy," (Good bye, Sefiora. I am 
 going,) and he galloped away from temptation as fast as 
 his pony could carry him. 
 
 Katherine told her husband of the kindness shown her and 
 Donnie, and in response to her entreaties, he rode up to 
 the Springs the following day. 
 
 Powell received him courteously and tried to evade the 
 effusive thanks, but Glendon had reached a point of in- 
 toxication where he was garrulous. 
 
 "I want you to come down any time and make yourself 
 entirely at home," he urged. "A man gets tired having 
 no one but a woman to talk to, and Katherine 's head is 
 always in the clouds. The boy is getting just like her. 
 When he's a little older though, I'm going to take him in 
 hand myself. If Katherine hadn't been so high-headed 
 with my folks things would be mighty different with me 
 today. But here I am, stuck down in a God-forsaken 
 canon in Arizona and no prospects of ever getting out. 
 If she had catered to my family we wouldn't be here, you 
 bet. So, it's nothing more than she brought on herself, 
 and I've got to take the medicine with her. The old man 
 has plenty money, but it's doubtful if I smell a penny of 
 
174. THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 it when he dies. If she'd come off her high-horse the old 
 man might leave a wad to Donnie. Of course, I take a 
 few drinks when I feel like it. Any man does. Once in 
 a while it gets the upper hand of me, hut I can stop when 
 I want to., and I won't make any promises to any one to 
 quit till I get good and ready." 
 
 Once started he rambled on. Powell gave up any at- 
 tempt to check the half -drunken confidences, and sat si- 
 lent y smoking, trying to conceal his aversion. It was with 
 a feeling of keen relief he saw Glendon rise and take leave. 
 The heavy-set figure swayed uncertainly in the saddle. 
 Then the memory of that man 's wife, of the days they two 
 had shared, swept over the doctor. The knowledge that 
 Katherine was subject to contact of such a man as Glendon 
 made his own loss more poignant. If he had found the 
 woman of his dreams married to a man worthy of her, he 
 knew he would have rejoiced at her happiness, though he 
 went his own way alone through life. 
 
 "Poor little Lady of the Pool," he whispered, "I have 
 found you only to lose you!" 
 
 He recalled a beautiful rose, frozen in a block of ice, 
 which had been sent him by a grateful patient. He had 
 longed to warm the cold petals and inhale their fragrance, 
 but he knew that removing the icy barrier would mean de- 
 stroying the flower. He left it undisturbed. 
 
 And the rose, in its loveliness passed its life; shut away 
 from the caress of the summer breeze, from the kiss of the 
 butterfly, from the quivering touch of the humming-bird's 
 wings, and all the wonderful mysteries of life that throbbed 
 around it. 
 
CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 IN May and June each year the Eastern and Northern 
 cattle buyers flock into Arizona to procure "feed- 
 ers" for their grass ranges in other sections. One, 
 two and three-year old steers are then shipped to be held 
 on pasture and finally "topped" on grain in some Eastern 
 centre, to prepare the animals for the Kansas City, Den- 
 ver, Omaha or Chicago stockyards. 
 
 A number of fine steers had been gathered on the Hot 
 Springs range, and were being driven to Willcox to make 
 part of a contract between a Montana buyer and the Dia- 
 mond II and PL. The spring rains had been abundant. 
 Wild grasses rose to the height of a pony's knees; sleek 
 Hereford cattle browsed contentedly, while white-faced 
 calves romped and raced between. Arizona was at its 
 smiling best. 
 
 Powell, riding behind the herd while Limber directed a 
 couple of Mexican vaqueros, was satisfied that he had made 
 no mistake in identifying himself with this country. The 
 plans for the Sanitarium were maturing perfectly. Let- 
 ters with suggestions and experience culled from the best 
 authorities all over the continent, as well as European 
 health resorts, were in each mail. Architects had sub- 
 mitted drafts and plans, from which Powell was selecting 
 the very best ideas. 
 
 Arrangements regarding the consolidation of the Dia- 
 mond II work with the PL and Hot Springs herds had 
 proven ideal, and the only unpleasant feature Powell had 
 encountered was embodied in his neighbour, Glendon. 
 
 Though the man's antagonism to the doctor had now 
 
 175 
 
176 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 reached a point of open animosity, Powell ignored it. Lini' 
 ber went frequently to the Circle Cross, and old Chappo, 
 making visits to Juan, managed to keep in touch with 
 Katherine. They all knew they were unable to do more 
 than this, unless she should allow it, or some dire necessity 
 force her to call on them for help. Powell was compelled 
 to keep entirely aloof from the Circle Cross, fearing to 
 precipitate some disagreeable scene, should Glendon be in 
 one of his aggressive moods. The doctor knew Glendon 's 
 type well enough to understand that the brunt of such 
 situation would fall with its full weight on the woman. 
 He hoped that she did not misinterpret his absence as due 
 to indifference, since it was the only way he could help. 
 
 Limber dropped back of the herd and rode beside the 
 doctor without speaking. There were long intervals when 
 these two were together that neither spoke, yet each man 
 knew the comradeship of the other. The cattle w 7 ere plod- 
 ding along steadily and in the distance could be seen the 
 smoke of a train creeping like a rattlesnake across the flat 
 between Cochise and Willcox. 
 
 The cowboy threw his leg across the horn of his saddle, 
 sitting sidewise as he rolled a cigarette, which he proffered 
 to Powell. Then making one for himself, the two men 
 smoked as they rode. 
 
 "Juan told me last night that he had found another 
 dead calf up the riverbed, and poisoned it," said Limber. 
 "Thar was fresh lion tracks. He thinks it's the lion that 
 was in the cave, but it ain't been thar since the day we 
 found Mrs. Glendon and Donnie. It must of smelt our 
 tracks and quit. Juan has been watchin' for it ever since 
 I tole him about it." 
 
 ' ' How much is the bounty ? ' ' asked Powell, puffing at his 
 cigarette. 
 
 "Twenty-five dollars for a lion scalp," replied Limber. 
 "I hope Juan gets it. We've been having lots of calves 
 killed this year. Mr. Traynor figgers on puttin' a couple 
 of men out trappin' and poisonin' them and the coyotes. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 177 
 
 It'll pay to do it. We had to shoot two horses not long 
 ago, because their backs was broke." 
 
 "Do they fight at close quarters?" asked Powell. "The 
 South American ones are nasty things." 
 
 "Well, sometimes they do and sometimes they don't. 
 Say, did any one ever tell you about the time Hasayampa 
 fit the mountain lion?" 
 
 "No, or I should not have forgotten it, I am sure," 
 Powell smiled in anticipation. 
 
 Limber tossed away his dead cigarette, swung around in 
 his saddle and began, "Hasayampa had a peculiar experi- 
 ence with a mountain-lion onct. You see, he was livin' in 
 a one-room stone cabin down Aravaipa Canon all alone by 
 hisself, exceptin' for an ol' brindle dog named Killem. 
 Hasayampa allowed that Killem was a canine orphun 
 asylum, because he was related to near every dog between 
 Willcox and the San Pedro. Killem 's nose was bull-dog, 
 his ears was collie, his tail looked something like a pug's 
 the way it tried to curl up in a doughnut. He had a 
 brindle coat of hair that was sprinkled with white patches 
 and them mixed with black. He sure done his best to bear 
 a resemblance to every one of his family connections. He 
 had been a dandy scrapper when he was young, but he was 
 so ol' he shed all his teeth, but his ki-yi was guaranteed 
 indestructible. Hasayampa had trouble with a mountain- 
 lion what wanted" to make sociable calls, but was too bashful 
 to come in daylight. It formed a strong attachment for 
 some pigs Bill was raisin', an' that lion adopted 'em on the 
 installment plan, an' the ol' sow took on somethin' dreadful. 
 So between the pigs squealin' and Killem ki-yiing, he was 
 pretty near crazy. Hasayampa said he couldn't stand the 
 lady pig's grief, so he killed her and then he guv Killem 
 a good kick to make him shet up, and went back to bed. 
 "The cabin had one door an' a little winder. Hasa- 
 yampa was lyin' on his bunk with a candle stuck in a beer- 
 bottle on a box longside him, right under the winder. Sud- 
 denly ol' Killem hopped right through the winder glass 
 
178 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 and landed plump on top of Hasayampa. He jumped 
 up to kick Killem out, but before he done it, denied if that 
 lion didn't come through the same way, but he knocked 
 over the box and put out the candle. Then Killem and 
 the lion started in for fust blood. 
 
 " Hasayampa 's six-shooter had been knocked off'n the 
 box and Hasayampa made a break fer the door — the room 
 seemed a leetle bit crowded just then — but the door was 
 locked and the key somewhar on the floor. He begun 
 scratching for that ke} r . 
 
 ''Just about this time the stovepipe got knocked down. 
 Thar warn't mutch fire, but plenty of smoke. Next thing 
 they hit the table whar he had piled up all the tin plates, 
 cups and pans that he washed on Sundays. Hasayampa 
 said the noise was somethin' fierce, for Killem was yellin', 
 'Pen and ink/ the lion was screechin' its head off, and 
 both of 'em kickin' tin things in every direction. 
 
 "All this time Hasayampa was bavin* troubles of his 
 own. He was clawin' the floor, lookin' for the key or his 
 six-shooter. He didn't care which, but he wanted one of 
 'em and he wanted it in a hurry, which wasn't unreason- 
 able noways, when you remember it was his own property 
 he was huntin'. He finally got on his stomach and spun 
 aroun' like a cartwheel and that was how he found his 
 gun. Trustin' to luck he edged closer to the noise and 
 put his gun against somethin' and fired. Thar was a yelp 
 from Killem, a screech from the lion, then somethin' flop- 
 ped around on the floor, but whether it was the lion or the 
 dorg, was a conundrum Hasayampa wasn't prepared to 
 answer off hand. 
 
 "Things got quiet. He crawled careful till he found the 
 candle and lit it, holdin' his gun ready. Then he looked 
 aroun'. Thar was Killem settin' scrintched up in one 
 corner of the room, a bullet hole through one ear, but thar 
 warn't no lion nowhar to be seen, and Hasayampa fig- 
 gered he had shot Killem and the lion had gone out the 
 winder, same route he took comin' in. Hasayampa did 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 179 
 
 some tall cussin, and begun piekin' things up, when he 
 seen the end of the lion's tail stickin' out under the bunk. 
 He backed off without losin' no time and shot under the 
 bunk. The lion never even kicked. 
 
 " After he'd waited to be sure it was dead, Hasayampa 
 hauled it out by the tail, feelin' mighty big at such a shot 
 in a dark room. Then he begun to hunt to see whar the 
 bullet went in. Thar was just one bullet hole, and that 
 was when he shot it under the bunk. He had missed it 
 clar the fust time, but that lion was as dead as a door-nail 
 when he fired the second shot, and Hasayampa knowed 
 it." 
 
 Limber looked at Powell gravely, "Now don't that beat 
 you?" 
 
 "But what happened?" demanded the Doctor. "Even 
 Hasayampa must have had some theory about it." 
 
 "Well," drawled Limber, "ol' Injun George, wher he 
 heerd about it said he had been puttin' pizen out, and 
 findin' a half et pig had fixed up the carcass for the 
 lion, and he allowed the one that visited Hasayampa had 
 made a meal of that pig. But Hasayampa always stuck to 
 it that the lion had naturally died of heart disease and 
 nervous prostration brung on by the excitement. Any- 
 way, that's how Hasayampa Bill won the lion record in 
 Arizona. ' ' 
 
 "He proved his right to spell the word both ways," 
 grinned the doctor as Limber reined Peanut toward the 
 head of the herd. 
 
 They were approaching the outskirts of Willcox. Al- 
 ready their advent was being heralded by hysterical yelps 
 from innumerable dogs belonging to the Mexican families 
 who occupied shacks at the outskirts of the town. Each 
 shack blazed with strings of dried, red chili peppers, while 
 countless children grouped about each door, or the women 
 gossiped volubly. 
 
 The cattle were driven into the shipping corrals a short 
 distance from town. The gates secured, Limber and Powell 
 
180 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 rode side by side up the dusty street to the Cowboys' Rest 
 and left their horses in charge of Buckboard. 
 
 Several other shipments were in town, being inspected 
 according to rule of precedent. The railroad company 
 was frequently short of engines to transport the heavy 
 trains of cattle, and it often happened that a bunch of 
 stock was delayed a week or longer before starting for its 
 destination. In such event, the cattle were held on the 
 range near town, or in some fenced pasture close at hand 
 which was rented for the time necessary. 
 
 Limber had put in his order so as to insure the right of 
 way when the cattle from the Hot Springs and Diamond H 
 should arrive in town. He was anxious to ascertain whether 
 they could load out that afternoon or not. The foreman 
 and Doctor Powell walked up the main street together, 
 stopping to speak to other cowmen, many of whom had 
 not before met the new owner of the Hot Springs and PL 
 ranches. 
 
 Bronco, Holy and Roarer spied and welcomed them 
 vociferously, and Limber was informed that the Diamond 
 H cattle were on a pasture, half a mile from town. The 
 Inspector would be ready to handle their shipment right 
 after lunch, as the cars and engine would be on time for 
 them. 
 
 1 ' I '11 stop for the mail, ' ' suggested Powell as they passed 
 the post-office, and suiting the action to the words he turned 
 in the store, while the others continued their way to the 
 Chinese restaurant. 
 
 They were about to enter, when Walton, carrying an old- 
 fashioned carpet grip hurried through the door. 
 
 "Hello, Walton," was Limber's casual greeting. 
 
 Walton, seeing them, stopped short and regarded the 
 group with an angry stare, then without replying, he rushed 
 across the street to the railroad station, where the east- 
 bound train was puffing. 
 
 ' ' Seems in a hurry, ' ' commented Limber as they watched 
 Walton climb aboard the train. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 181 
 
 "Mebbe he's goin' to get married," grinned Bronco, 
 "and he's scairt for fear somethin' will happen to them 
 whiskers again." 
 
 Walton's face appeared at one of the windows of the 
 day-coach. As the train puffed past the men, his eyes 
 rested on them in mingled triumph and malice. 
 
 "Hump!" grunted Holy, "Looks like he'd just drawed 
 four aces ! ' ' 
 
 "Well, I'm glad the country is shet of him," piped 
 Roarer as they met Doctor Powell and imparted the item 
 of news to him. 
 
 Powell handed a letter to Limber. The pencil writing 
 was crude and the sheet of paper bore an enormous, bril- 
 liant red rose across one corner. The eyes of the other 
 cowpunchers focused on that rose, as the letter had been 
 folded backward. 
 
 "Looks like a love-letter," insinuated Bronco. "Say, 
 Limber ain't that addressed to Holy? He's the only one 
 of the outfit that writes letters to ladies, you know." 
 
 "It's been in the post-office a week, ' ' commented Limber, 
 and they drew closer as he read aloud: 
 
 Dere Limber — I seen Walton puttin' the Diamond H on 
 a Lazy F calf and I give him a week to quit the country. 
 He sold out to a fellow from Douglas, so I guess there won't 
 be no more trouble from him. It wood be hard to make a 
 case that would stick against him, because he wasn't brand- 
 ing the calves for himself. He's a little off his cabazza, 
 and them green whiskers stuck in his craw. My regards 
 to the Boss and the boys. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 Billy Saunders. 
 Range Detective for the 
 Live Stock Sanitary Board. 
 
 "That's why he was in sech a hurry to get that train. 
 He must of thought we knowed about it;" said Limber. 
 "Well, he won't bother us no more." As they all entered 
 
182 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 the restaurant, Limber spoke to Powell, "The inspector '11 
 be ready for us right after lunch." 
 
 They were shown a table near the front of the room, 
 which was well-filled with a typical frontier mixture of 
 humanity. Cowpunchers, miners, clerks and storekeepers, 
 a couple of commercial travellers, and an Army officer in 
 uniform, accompanied by his wife and two children, who 
 had evidently just arrived on the train from California. 
 
 In a corner at the rear end of the room sat Glendon with 
 a cowboy whose mutilated hand had won the name of 
 Three-fingered Jack. They were talking earnestly in 
 guarded tones. Glendon 's back was toward the entrance 
 of the place, but Jack, who was classed as a " gunman/ ' 
 because of his expert marksmanship, scrutinized the new- 
 comers sharply. 
 
 "Who is that with the Diamond H outfit?" he asked. 
 
 Glendon twisted slightly, took a swift glance, scowled 
 and leaned over to his companion. 
 
 "That's Powell, damn him! Bought the Hot Springs 
 and PL herd and ranch and is going to put up a sanitarium 
 for tubercular children. Limber stays w T ith him most of 
 the time, and puts in the rest of it at the Diamond H, so 
 you never know when you're going to run into them. It's 
 easy to pull the wool over a tenderfoot, but Limber is an- 
 other proposition. If there's any trouble, the whole coun- 
 try will side with Limber. He's as sharp as they make 
 em, and every one knows he's so damned straight that he 
 leans backward. That doctor is no fool, either. ' ' 
 
 Three-fingered Jack shrugged his shoulders contemptu- 
 ously and smiled into the other man's face. Both had been 
 drinking heavily. The smile was a studied insult. Glen- 
 don did not notice it. 
 
 "Losing your nerve, Glen? I'll give that pill-pusher 
 a little scare for you, and I bet when I get done with him 
 he'll look like a cake of soap in a Chinese laundry after a 
 big day's washing." 
 
 Glendon hesitated. "We'd better steer clear of them. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 183 
 
 It won't do to have any trouble now. It would ball things 
 up for us." 
 
 1 ' I '11 keep away from Limber, ' ' promised Jack, now ob- 
 sessed with one idea; "but it won't take anything except 
 a good bluff for the tenderfoot." 
 
 "That Diamond H is mixing into everything," growled 
 Glendon. "If it hadn't been for Traynor, King never 
 would have patented that land and the will wouldn't have 
 been worth the paper it was written on. I've hung out at 
 the Circle Cross all these years expecting to get hold of the 
 Hot Springs, but thanks to Traynor and Powell, I got left 
 in the end. Bad enough when King was alive, shutting me 
 off from the water, but now Powell is stocking up the 
 range and it's going to knock me into a cocked hat. There's 
 bound to be trouble between Powell and me before very 
 long. I'm not going to put up with his prowling around 
 watching things out there." 
 
 ""What the devil do you care for the half a dozen calves 
 he may keep you from rustling?" jeered Jack. "You've 
 got a heap bigger thing ahead of you, if you just keep your 
 shirt on a bit longer. Then you can quit the country for 
 good. But, it won't be safe for us to come out there now, 
 Glen. Better meet somewhere else." 
 
 "All right," assented Glendon, with a shrug. "You tell 
 Panchita anytime you want me, and she'll get word to 
 me." 
 
 They made their way rather unsteadily from the long 
 room, unhitched their ponies and rode toward the corral 
 conversing earnestly in low tones. 
 
 Half an hour later, Powell and the boys of the Diamond 
 H reached the corrals where their entire shipment now was 
 enclosed. Bronco remained down in the narrow chute, 
 while the rest, after tying their ponies to the corral fence, 
 climbed up and perched on the topmost rail. 
 
 Powell looked down on a mass of surging horns, his ears 
 assaulted by deafening bellows. The inspector sat above 
 a narrow passageway in which a draft of five cattle was 
 
184 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 driven, then the bar dropped and parted them from the 
 other animals. As these five cows passed toward the car 
 into which they were to be loaded, Bronco called the brand 
 and ear-marks to the inspector, who recorded them. Then 
 the cow was given a slight shove to accelerate its movements 
 into the open door of the car. If it hesitated, it was not 
 long, for only a creature of iron could withstand the fierce 
 prodding in the ribs with sharp wooden poles, and the 
 wild yells would make an Apache war-whoop sound a 
 whisper of first love. 
 
 While the men worked, Limber, seated beside Powell 
 explained the system of territorial inspection, and that at 
 each shipping point an inspector was stationed to report 
 officially on every brand and ear-mark of cattle offered for 
 shipment. Each brand was registered with the Live Stock 
 Sanitary Board at Phoenix, and reports forwarded imme- 
 diately after any shipment, stating the owner of each ani- 
 mal, brand, ear-mark, shipper in charge, buyer, consigner 
 and consignee. A certificate of health was also required, 
 and without such official authority from the inspector no 
 railroad company was permitted to move any live stock 
 over its road. The shipper in charge, was also compelled 
 to have copies. In addition to these duties, the inspector 
 was authorized to collect and forward any amounts re- 
 ceived for stray cattle, whose owners were not present or 
 represented by an agent. Where a brand was found not 
 officially registered, such animal was sold by the inspector 
 and proceeds remitted to the board. This was given any 
 claimant who could satisfactorily explain negligence to 
 record the brand, and prove beyond doubt his ownership. 
 
 Limber, sitting beside Powell on the corral fence, ex- 
 plained these laws while they watched the inspection. 
 
 "Some of the brands are very indistinct, " said Powell. 
 "In case there is doubt, how is it decided?" 
 
 "Inspector clips the hair over the brand with horse- 
 clippers, and if that don't settle it, he sells the animal to 
 the local butcher. You see, when the hide is fresh from a 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 185 
 
 cow, the first brand shows out the plainest, even if another 
 is run over afterwards. Sometimes a brand is registered 
 what gives a feller the chance to alter another. There was, 
 one man ran Bar 0," Limber drew an imaginary brand 
 on the palm of his left hand, 0-0. "Afterward they found 
 the Crooked H, D-C, the <H and the D could be changed 
 to the 0-0 and work the three biggest herds in the section. 
 The fellow was honest, never aimed to do no dirty work, 
 but the brand was stopped by order of the Live Stock 
 Sanitary Board. 
 
 The fresh draft, headed by a large cow, was driven into 
 the chute. 
 
 "This brand's been monkeyed with," Holy called up to 
 the inspector, who sat on an elevated platform just above 
 the chute. 
 
 There was craning of necks as each one studied the 
 animal, for an altered brand was the business of every 
 cowman in the Territory. 
 
 "What is it?" demanded the inspector. 
 
 "She looks more like an inspection certificate than a 
 cow," was the answer. "Jumping Jehosaphat! Did you 
 ever see such a mix-up? There's a B D looks like it's been 
 changed from aPL; an' ol' Mule Shoe Quarter Circle on 
 her side, one ear's slit an' the other's a jinglebob. Hold 
 on, there's something on the other side." 
 
 Continuing his examination he moved around the animal 
 and ejaculated in surprise; "Damned if here ain't a fresh 
 Circle Cross. What d'ye know about that, Glendon?" 
 
 Every one looked at Glendon, who sat at Limber's left 
 side on the railing. But before he could reply, Paddy 
 Lafferty jumped into the corral chute and stooping down 
 studied" the cow's front legs, then he straightened up and 
 spoke. 
 
 "Oi don't give a dum what brand she carries, that cow 
 is moine. She runs over the Hot Springs range. Oi'd 
 know the ould haythin anywheres becase she got cut by 
 barbed-wire and I docthered her, and she give me the diwle 
 
186 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 of a toime when I was doin' it, be jabers! There's the 
 marks of the woire-cuts on her fore ankles. That brand's 
 been burnt since I sold the PL herd to Doctor Powell." 
 
 "That's a lie!" shouted Glendon. "I bought her four 
 months ago from a Mexican on the San Pedro. The B D 
 is his brand. He had ten cows and sold them all to me 
 before he went back to Mexico." 
 
 Paddy looked coolly into Glendon 's bloodshot eyes. 
 il Yez must hev laid awake noights fixin' up that loi," he 
 sneered, keeping a close watch on Glendon 's right hand. 
 "Oi giss the inspecther hed betther take charge of her and 
 sittle the matther. But it stroikes me that B D is a 
 moighty quare brand for a Greaser to be running." 
 
 "As long as the cow has a P L," spoke Powell sud- 
 denly, "I suppose it gives me a voice in the matter also?" 
 
 The inspector nodded confirmation, and Powell went on, 
 "Let the inspector take charge, as Paddy suggested. I 
 don 't want any animal on my range that carries a disputed 
 brand. If the cow belongs to me, I want her shipped or 
 slaughtered, and all possible disputes about her ended." 
 
 "Ship her," ordered the inspector. "I'll look up that 
 B D brand, and if it is not registered the proceeds of sale 
 will be forwarded to Doctor Powell. If it is registered, and 
 the Greaser has left, as Glendon claims, it is up to Glendon 
 to prove ownership by bill of sale from the Greaser." 
 
 " 'Tain't the furst toime your brand has got on one of 
 my cows, Glen;" asserted Paddy hotly. "Oi sold my 
 brand and herd clane and straight to Docther Powell, and 
 Oi'll sthand boy that sale to the last critter." 
 
 Glendon 's hand slipped back a few inches, but Limber, 
 sitting beside him, saw the movement and gripped his 
 wrist in a steel clutch. It was done so quickly and quietly 
 that no one but Paddy saw it, or heard Limber say, "Don't 
 be such a fool, Glen. Killin' people don't change the laws 
 of the Territory." 
 
 "If ever I catch that Greaser, I'll make him sweat blood," 
 blustered Glendon. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 187 
 
 Paddy mounted the fence, settled himself, then filled 
 his corn-cob pipe, lighted it deliberately and took a deep 
 puff before he remarked with a grim smile, "Oi'll hilp yez 
 do it, Glendon — when yez catch him!" 
 
 His wrinkled, gnarled hand smoothed the leg of his 
 overalls, which had originally been the orthordox blue of 
 all self-respecting overalls, but long since had succumbed 
 to Paddy's washtub and vigorous muscles. Below the 
 edges of these anemic patched garments, loomed one old 
 boot and one shoe, laced crookedly with a piece of rawhide. 
 
 The hand ceased its caressing movement, and Paddy 
 squinted up again at Glendon, "Don't yez be afther fergit- 
 tin', Glendon, whin yez catch him I'll take a hand at him — 
 wid yez." 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 LIMBER unsaddled his pony in the Cowboys' Rest, 
 after the trainload had pulled out. He found 
 that the episode of the burnt cow was already be- 
 ing discussed openly. 
 
 "Glendon's goin' to get into heaps of trouble if he ain't 
 more careful," stated Buckboard to Limber. "He's mixin' 
 in with a mighty bad bunch." 
 
 Limber hung his saddle on a peg and stood rubbing 
 Peanut's nose gently. "You're sure right, Buckboard;" 
 he replied slowly. "I'm derned sorry about it. I done all 
 I knew how to pull him up, but 'tain't been no good, so 
 fur's I can see. What stumps me is why a fellow what has 
 so many chances to make good works as hard as Glen does 
 a dodgin' 'em. He come here with plenty dinero, had 
 heaps of friends and a rich father to back him. Then he 
 was eddicated and has the dandiest wife that ever stepped 
 on earth. Sometimes I think he's plumb locoed. 
 
 "Mrs. Glendon's got a good-sized bunch of trouble just 
 now and more a comin', unless Glen wakes up and hits an- 
 other trail pretty damn quick;" growled Buckboard. 
 "That Mexican woman is making a regular fool of him, 
 and gets every cent that he handles. I've been wondering 
 how much longer the stores will carry him. His herd don't 
 amount to shucks any more." 
 
 "If I knowed a woman like Glendon's wife was waitm* 
 for me at a ranch, I'd think I was the richest man in 
 Arizona Territory, even if the ranch only had one room and 
 I hadn't but five head of cows;" Limber spoke earnestly, 
 and old Buckboard, catching the look on the cowpuncher's 
 face, paused a second before he answered. 
 
 188 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 189 
 
 * i There 's plenty good men that would be a heap better to 
 her than Glendon, for all his fancy way of talking. But 
 nobody can't do nothin' to help a woman like her when she's 
 tied up to a skunk like Glendon. It's a damn shame, but 
 a woman of her sort just goes along and plays out the game 
 with a lone hand. But she plays it square." 
 
 1 ' I know. That 's what makes it hard. I try to do what 
 I can to help Glen, just so's to ease the load on her, but he 
 keep's pilin' it up more and more every day." 
 
 "When a feller like him catches on to other people let- 
 ting him off easy on account of her, he'll work that game 
 for all it 's worth. Instead of tryin ' to cover up his tracks, 
 it'd be lots better to give him rope enough to hang him- 
 self. Then she could cut loose from him." 
 
 "No she wouldn't," contradicted Limber. "So long as 
 Glendon is above ground she'll stick to him, no matter what 
 he does. Glen knows that, too." 
 
 "Then, by God! I hope something will put him under 
 ground before he breaks her heart," exploded Buckboard, 
 giving a vicious slash with a tie-rope at a handy post which 
 relieved his irritation, for he knew Limber had spoken the 
 truth. 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by Bronco who has- 
 tened up to Limber. 
 
 "Guess there's goin' to be trouble in town," he an- 
 nounced. 
 
 "Glendon?" demanded Buckboard, hopefully. 
 
 "Nope. It's Three-fingered Jack this time," was the 
 reply. "Alpaugh, the constable, is away at Tombstone, 
 and Three-finger come in last night and has been tankin' 
 up ever since, and by this time he figgers he's got the range 
 to hisself." 
 
 "Whar's Peachy? Isn't he Deputy Constable?" asked 
 Limber as they passed through the corral gate. 
 
 Bronco grunted. "Peachy? Whar's Peachy?" he 
 paused to gather scorn. " Peachy 's in hidin'. Jack shot 
 out the lights in the corner saloon last night and every one 
 
190 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ducked and stampeded, and that denied Deputy Constable 
 dropped on all fours behind the bar and crawled outen the 
 room jest like the yeller pup he is. All he needs is a few 
 fleas to finish him! Then he lit out in the back yard and 
 one feller told me he seen him jump over that ten-foot 
 board fence back of the saloon, and he swars Peachy never 
 teched it. He's some jack-rabbit when it comes to jumpin', 
 and he's got as much nerve as one. Just because Jack's 
 got the name of bein' a bad man and handy with his gun, 
 he's got the whole town buffaloed. But the funny thing 
 is, no one ever knowed who Jack has killed. He sure ain't 
 done no gun-play here except plug tin cans to show off." 
 
 4 'He needs some one to take that freshness outen him;" 
 Limber spoke quietly as though commenting on the weather. 
 "If Peachy ain't handy, looks like it's up to us to see the 
 Jedge and ask if he needs any deputy." 
 
 "That's why I was huntin' you," was Bronco's answer, 
 but further conversation was interrupted by a fusilade of 
 shots. 
 
 "I guess he's turned loose," Limber spoke as they ran 
 toward the noises. "Thar ain't no time now to see the 
 Jedge. It's up to us, Bronc. Come along." 
 
 They were joined by other men who ran from various 
 directions and at a turn of the street they saw Three-fin- 
 gered Jack standing in the roadway, close to the office of 
 the Justice of the Peace, who represented the only judicial 
 authority in Willcox. Jack's pistol was smoking. He re- 
 garded the assembled men insolently. 
 
 "I heerd there's some one who's going to serve a warrant 
 on me," challenged Jack. "What I'm afraid of is that he 
 won't know just where to find me." 
 
 He wheeled and sent several bullets against the large 
 plate glass window of a corner store, accompanied by a 
 hair-raising yell as the glass clattered to the ground in 
 fragments. 
 
 Limber and Bronco reached the outer edge of the crowd 
 and pushed through it, but stopped as they saw a man 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 191 
 
 saunter nonchalantly around the corner from the Main 
 street. He paused, regarded the crowd, then his eyes wan- 
 dered interestedly to Jack, who was busy slipping fresh 
 cartridges into his pistol. 
 
 As the gunman started to flourish his weapon, he became 
 aware of the new-comer, who advanced toward him and 
 said, "If I were you I would not shoot so promiscuously, 
 my friend. You might accidently hit something, you 
 know." 
 
 "It's Doc," ejaculated Limber, "and he ain't got no 
 gun!" 
 
 Jack evidently recognized Powell, for he swung and 
 faced him demanding what he was talking about. 
 
 Powell held out a paper. "If you are Jack Dunlap, 
 known as Three-fingered Jack, and supposed to be a gun- 
 man, I have a warrant for your arrest. I've just been 
 made special Deputy Constable." 
 
 Jack regarded him with open contempt. "Oh, is that 
 so?" he sneered. "Well, here I am! Come on and do 
 your duty, Mr. Special Constable." 
 
 Limber pressed toward Powell, with Bronco at his side, 
 and close behind them loomed Holy and Roarer, but Powell 
 smiled at them and shook his head at the puzzled punchers 
 of the Diamond II. Limber's finger rested lightly on the 
 trigger of his pistol which apparently hung loosely in the 
 hand at his side. His eyes glinted dangerously, his lips 
 were tightened into a thin line. Bronco glanced at him, 
 and knew Doctor Powell was safe. Only a few men were 
 aware of the quickness with which Limber could draw and 
 how accurately the apparently careless bullets were sent. 
 
 "I wonder what Doc is up to?" murmured Bronco, but 
 none of them could solve the problem. 
 
 Powell moved deliberately toward Jack, who suddenly 
 began firing his pistol at the ground close to Powell's feet, 
 yelling, "Dance, you hyena tender-foot! Dance, damn 
 you!" 
 
 The ground flew up and struck one of Powell 's feet, but 
 
192 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 he only glanced at the place as though interested in Jack's 
 marksmanship. "That isn't so bad," he smiled at the gun- 
 man. 
 
 Jack strode forward, cursing violently, but the doctor 
 seemed oblivious to it, as he took a handsome cigarette case 
 from his pocket, selected a cigarette with solicitous care and 
 lighted it. Then he looked up at Jack. 
 
 The gun-man was nonplussed. He hesitated to attack an 
 unarmed man, not because of moral scruples but the realiza- 
 tion of the consequences to himself. Jack had not seen the 
 men of the Diamond H who were grouped alertly back of 
 him, each man's pistol ready. 
 
 Measuring the weight and height of Powell, Jack, who 
 was much larger, shoved his pistol into the holster, saying, 
 "I don't care to pot a jack-rabbit." 
 
 Powell made no move. Jack advanced in front of him, 
 thrust his face against the doctor's and snarled, "Well, 
 what are you going to do about that warrant, Mr. What-d 'ye 
 call 'em?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing except arrest you," was the calm reply 
 as the doctor puffed a little volcano of cigarette smoke into 
 Jack's face and looked him steadily in the eyes. "I am 
 unarmed," said Powell loudly enough to be heard by all 
 the bystanders, "but I believe you are too much of a coward 
 to face any man without your gun, even though you know 
 he is unarmed." 
 
 Goaded by the challenge, Jack ripped out an oath, un- 
 buckled his pistol belt and handed it to a bystander, who 
 accepted it with evident reluctance. 
 
 "Now, come along," yelled the gunman. "Come along 
 and arrest me, if you can — but before you do it I 'm going 
 to take you across my knee and give you a regular spank- 
 ing like your mother used to do, sonny." 
 
 He reached forward. Before any one knew what had 
 happened, Three-fingered Jack was sprawling on the 
 ground, while Powell sat quietly astride the man's chest, 
 holding Jack's arms with his own knees. Jack writhed 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 193 
 
 and struggled, but was unable to disturb the man who 
 smiled down at him. As Jack's curses increased, Powell 
 deliberately patted the outlaw's face gently, saying in. 
 soothing accents, "Don't let your temper rise, Jack! It 
 isn't becoming in such a regular little Mama's darling like 
 you!" 
 
 Howls of laughter roused Jack to the realization that his 
 reputation was at stake. He broke into threats of dire 
 revenge on Powell. The doctor paid no attention to the 
 man who was helpless in the grip of steel, but merely asked, 
 "Has any one here » rope that I could borrow a short 
 time?" 
 
 Jack stopped cursing, and a disagreeable recollection in- 
 truded itself upon him. A man had asked for a rope in 
 "Wyoming. The crowd had cut Jack dow T n before he was 
 entirely unconscious, and Jack had emigrated to Arizona 
 without delay. 
 
 Powell had no such intention. The rope was employed 
 to truss the "gun" man from head to feet, like a fly wound 
 in a spider's web. An involuntary murmur of approval 
 passed among the men who had seen the episode, but at 
 that moment Glendon staggered through the crowd and be- 
 fore any one could move, levelled a pistol at Powell. 
 
 "Take that rope off," he shouted with a volley of the 
 foulest oaths at his command. 
 
 "Don't interfere," warned Pow r ell, facing Glendon. 
 
 "You take that rope off or I'll put daylight trough 
 you, you white-livered sneak," screamed the other man. 
 
 His words died away in a thud, as Powell sprang at him 
 like a wild-cat, clasping him about the arms and falling 
 heavily to the ground with Glendon sprawled underneath. 
 The pistol in Glendon 's hand flew through the air, struck 
 the ground and exploded harmlessly in the dust. 
 
 "I'll need another rope," apologized Powell in unrufled 
 tones. "I'm sorry to trouble you again." 
 
 There was a laugh, and in less time than it takes to re- 
 late, Glendon was as helpless as Jack. The sight of them 
 
194. THE LONG DIM' TRAIL 
 
 lying side by side was too much for the gravity of the 
 crowd, and laughter was unrestrained. Powell looked down 
 at Glendon, but there was no triumph in his heart. A 
 woman's pleading face rose between him and the man at 
 his feet who was voicing his vile thoughts and threats. 
 Three-fingered Jack turned his head slightly and there was 
 a twitch of the ' ' gun ' ' man 's mouth, but he made no remark. 
 
 The driver of the one and only town truck was standing 
 on the seat of his wagon surveying the captured men. 
 Powell called to him, "How much will you charge to haul 
 this load to the calaboose ?" 
 
 "Do it for nothing,' ' replied the driver promptly. 
 
 So he and Powell, assisted by many volunteers, lifted 
 the mummy-like forms into the wagon, then the entire as- 
 semblage followed behind the vehicle as it moved slowly 
 down the street. 
 
 "Gee!" laughed Holy, "That was the funniest sight I 
 ever seed in my life." 
 
 "Looks like the funeral of a real, respectable citizen," 
 squeaked Roarer. 
 
 "Well, it's Jack's funeral, sure enough," answered Lim- 
 ber. "He's a dead ' bad man' from now on, but the doc- 
 tor has won his spurs, you bet!" 
 
 The wagon stopped in front of the little adobe building 
 which was used as the town jail, and Powell assisted the 
 driver to lift the prisoners bodily into the room which took 
 the place of a cell. The ropes were removed. Jack and 
 Glendon stood free in front of their captor. He eyed them 
 in silence a few seconds, then said, "I want you both to 
 understand that I had no personal feeling in anything I 
 did. Law is law, whether in Arizona or any other place. 
 Gun-play is for bullies, not men." 
 
 Neither replied. Powell picked up the two ropes and 
 left the place. Outside he found Limber waiting, but 
 there was no reference to what had just taken place. 
 Powell handed the ropes to Limber and asked him to locate 
 the owners, then the doctor continued down the street to 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 195 
 
 the office of the Justice of Peace, who smiled at him cordially. 
 
 4 'It was just a simple trick of jiu-jitsu," explained 
 Powell. "But now I want to know how much the fine will 
 be for Jack and Glendon?" 
 
 "Thirty dollars, or thirty days in the Tombstone jail," 
 answered the Justice. 
 
 Powell reached across the desk and appropriated a pen 
 which he dipped into the ink-well. He drew out his check- 
 book, saying, ' ' I suppose this is permissable ? ' ' The Judge 
 nodded. 
 
 "It may be a little hard on them to pay the fine," Powell 
 spoke as he wrote. "I don't want them to know who did 
 it. Keep the matter between ourselves. They have had a 
 lesson, I think." 
 
 "The best in the world," responded the Judge, smiling 
 at his recollection of the two trussed figures in the wagon. 
 
 It was only a short time later that Limber hunted up the 
 Judge and volunteered to stand good for any fine imposed 
 on Glendon. When he was told that another person had 
 assumed the responsibility already, for both men, Limber 
 left the office feeling pretty certain that Powell had an- 
 ticipated his own intention. But neither of them ever 
 spoke of the matter. 
 
 When the full moon peered over the horizon that night, 
 it shone on two men who rode slowly toward the Hot 
 Springs ranch, each of them glad to be back again in the 
 peace of the mountains. And down in a cell, the moon- 
 light flooded the floor criss-crossed with black bars from the 
 window, and two men lay thinking in the silent hours of 
 the night, but like the men who rode to the Springs, neither 
 of them told his inmost thoughts to the other. Some 
 thoughts are too holy to be spoken aloud ; others too black. 
 
 The next morning Glendon and Jack, thoroughly sobered, 
 were brought before the Judge for their hearing. After a 
 sharp warning that a second offense would mean much 
 heavier penalty, a fine of thirty dollars each was im- 
 posed. 
 
196 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "I can't pay it, Judge," confessed Jack, frankly. "I'm 
 broke, owe three months advance wages and have to find a 
 job." 
 
 "Maybe Glendon can pay both fines until you are able 
 to work it out," suggested the Judge aimiably. 
 
 "I've got all I can do to pay my own," was the surly 
 reply. "Unless Norton will advance it, I'm stuck." 
 
 "It seems too bad to have to send you both to the Tomb- 
 stone jail for thirty days, boys," sympathized the Justice. 
 "If the offense had not been so serious, I might have held 
 you in the calaboose; but the charge was not only disturb- 
 ing the peace, but also resisting an officer." 
 
 A grin spread over Jack's face. "Say, Judge, that's a 
 real joke! Did you see how fur we resisted? Well, I 
 guess we deserved it, and it's up to us to take our medicine 
 like little men. " 
 
 " I 'm glad to hear you say that, Jack. Now, I want you 
 both to give me your word of honour that you will not 
 make any further disturbance in Willcox after this." 
 
 "All right," Jack answered readily, looking squarely 
 into the Judge's face. "I don't hold any grudge against 
 Powell. I own up he 's a better man than I am. ' ' 
 
 "Glendon?" 
 
 "I wouldn't have made such an ass of myself if I had 
 been sober," was Glendon 's evasive answer, while he eyed 
 a knot hole in the board at his feet. 
 
 "Both fines have been already paid." 
 
 They looked up amazed. "Who was it?" demanded 
 Jack. 
 
 "I am not at liberty to tell," was the reply. 
 
 Jack stared a moment, then a smile spread over his face, 
 "By Gosh! I bet it was that doctor!" he exclaimed. 
 "Say, Judge if it was him, will you tell him I'm much 
 obliged, and that he's a white man, and I'll lick the stuf- 
 fing out of any one that picks on him, if he just lets me know 
 anytime ! ' ' 
 
 Glendon made no comments as he left the office, but Jack 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 197 
 
 turned back at the threshold to call, "I'm going to get out 
 of town as fast as I can, Judge. I've got to hustle for a 
 job so I can pay back that fine. I'll see that the money 
 gets to you p. d. q. So long!" 
 
 "Good luck, boys," answered the Judge heartily. Then 
 turned to his desk and papers, thinking that there was more 
 manhood to the "gun man" than the one who accompanied 
 him. The two walked side by side in apparent friendliness 
 until Jack said, "Well, that was a surprise party all around, 
 Glen. I bet I hit the bull's eye guessing it was the doc- 
 tor." 
 
 Glendon's eyes glinted angrily at Jack's open praise of 
 Powell. "He certainly made a laughing-stock of you," 
 snarled Glendon. "Threw you down, trussed you up like 
 a Christmas turkey, loaded you in the town truck, and now 
 you are ready to lick his boots in gratitude after he puts 
 the last insult on you by paying your fine. Pah ! You 
 make me sick ! ' ' 
 
 Jack gripped the other man's arm angrily. "See, here, 
 Glen! I'm not such a mollycoddle that I won't fight you 
 or any other man that talks that way to me." Jack stood 
 glaring down at Glendon, who returned the angry stare. 
 Then a grin started on Jack's face, and he drawled slowly, 
 "Don't see that you've got any call over me, Glen. There 
 was two Christmas turkeys, but you did the loudest gob- 
 bling. Don't you ever forget that!" 
 
 "I'm not apt to," retorted the other. "I never would 
 have been mixed up in it if I hadn't been trying to help 
 you out." 
 
 "And I wouldn't have started anything if it hadn't been 
 for you egging me on. You said he was a tenderfoot. 
 Tenderfoot! Wow! I'd like to know what kind of bad 
 men they have where he came from, if he 's a tenderfoot ! ' ' 
 He paused to ponder over the possibilities of such an in- 
 dividual. "See, here, Glen, so long as Powell minds his 
 business, I'll mind mine ; and if you've got a grudge against 
 
198 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 him on account of his getting the Springs, you needn't try 
 to get me to take it out on him for you." 
 
 Glendon's face was white with rage. "I suppose that 
 means you are going to take backwater on everything and 
 join some Church and shout 'Hallelujah! I'm saved!' 
 Eh?" 
 
 "It means just what I said. If you've got any pick 
 on Powell that is your own business. As far as the other 
 plans go, the cards are dealt already, and I '11 stand pat. ' ' 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 
 TIREE months after Glendon and Jack had encoun- 
 tered Doctor Powell in Willcox, Katherine was sit- 
 ting on the porch of her home reading to Donnie. 
 The noise of crunching wheels sounded far down the canon 
 long before a vehicle came into sight between the dense 
 mesquite brush. 
 
 It was Doctor Powell who had returned from a trip to 
 Willcox. Katherine watched her husband receive his mail, 
 but she was not aware that the eyes of the two men met 
 with unconcealed antagonism, and the conversation was as 
 curt as possible. 
 
 No whisper of the affair in Willcox had reached the ears 
 of Glendon 's wife. She had no knowledge that her hus- 
 band had borrowed money to send to the Judge without a 
 word of thanks to his unknown benefactor. The money 
 had been forwarded to Powell by the Judge. The other 
 fine was sent the Judge by Three-fingered Jack, accompanied 
 by a badly scrawled note of thanks addressed to the Justice 
 of Peace and asking that the man who had paid the fine be 
 told that it was appreciated, and that if he ever needed 
 any help to call on Three-fingered Jack. 
 
 Aware of Glendon 's dislike, Powell's visits to the Circle 
 Cross had ceased some time previous to the Willcox trouble, 
 but Katherine ascribed the doctor's aloofness to his knowl- 
 edge of her husband's habits. Though she missed the in- 
 frequent visits, she did not resent it. She knew that the 
 two men had nothing in common to make them congenial. 
 
 The doctor, seeing Katherine and Donnie on the porch, 
 hesitated as he was about to drive away. He glanced at 
 them, and with a touch of his hat in greeting, stepped 
 
 199 
 
200 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 into the buggy and went on his way. The happy light 
 faded from Donnie 's eyes, but without a word he slipped 
 down again beside his mother, his arm about Tatters' neck. 
 
 Glendon came slowly to the porch with the canvas mail- 
 pouch on his arm. He threw off his broad-brimmed Stet- 
 son, unbuckled his spurs and sat down to read his letters 
 without vouchsafing a word to his wife. 
 
 ' ' Is there nothing for me?" she asked finalty, hesitating 
 to take the sack from his lap and sort its contents. 
 
 "Only papers and some of your fool magazines," he 
 snapped. "Seems to me you are old enough to get over 
 reading sentimental trash." 
 
 Unmindful of his words she reached for the books he 
 tossed angrily toward her. Books were the only antidote 
 for the mental atrophy she dreaded. Rising, she picked 
 them up, but paused as Glendon glanced impatiently from 
 a letter in his hands. 
 
 "Wait, can't you? Or is the 'continued in our next' 
 too important?" he demanded. 
 
 She did not reply, but seated herself quietly. Her eyes 
 were unusually bright, for on a page of the magazine she 
 held, she had seen a title. A thrill akin to that when she 
 had first held Donnie in her arms, made her heart throb 
 quickly. 
 
 Donnie had been flesh of her flesh, bone of her bone ; but 
 this, the first-born of her brain, had come through travail 
 of her very soul. It was not necessary for her to read the 
 eight lines of the poem; they were indelibly imprinted on 
 her memory. A mother cannot forget the face of her 
 child, and though it be commonplace and unattractive to 
 all the world, in her eyes it is beautiful. 
 
 Glendon 's voice brought her back from her world of 
 dreams. 
 
 "I wish you'd stop sitting there staring like a locoed 
 calf, and pay attention to what I have to say." 
 
 She turned her eyes on him. " I 'm sorry, Jim. I didn't 
 hear you speak." 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 201 
 
 1 ' I didn 't, ' ' lie snapped. ' ' No use talking when you have 
 a mooning fit on.'' 
 
 "I a in listening, dear. What is it?" 
 
 "Here's a letter from the old man. He wants Donald. 
 You can see for yourself what he says. ' ' 
 
 Glendon handed her the letter, allowing it to drop from 
 his fingers purposely, watching her as she reached down 
 and picked it up. 
 
 As she read, a grey pallor spread over her face, making 
 it look old and haggard. 
 
 J. M. Glendon, Jr. 
 
 Circle Cross Ranch, Arizona. 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 From reliable sources I have learned of your conduct 
 since you went to Arizona, and understand that my ambi- 
 tion to see my son a man among men will never be grati- 
 fied ; nor will your influence or example make such a man of 
 my grandson, Donald. The full realization of this has 
 prompted me to break my determination never to communi- 
 cate with you again on any subject. 
 
 Your wife is too egotistical and assertive, and her in- 
 fluence over the boy cannot fail to be detrimental. IV omen 
 have no idea how to bring up a boy, especially college-bred 
 women with their fads and theories. They have no judg- 
 ment outside of flattery; they are all fools, — I do not care 
 where you go, or who the woman may be, — and the man who 
 tries to please a woman's whims is a fool. 
 
 My lawyer tells me that under the laws of Arizona you 
 are absolute guardian of your child; so the decision as to 
 my offer rests entirely with you. Your wife, legally, has 
 no voice in the matter of selecting a school or any other 
 arrangements you may see fit to make. It is time for you 
 to assert yourself. 
 
 I will take Donald and educate him, provided he is given 
 to me absolutely until he is of age, but I will not allow any 
 interference with him or my plans for him. I will see that 
 he does not grow up with any sickly, sentimental ideas, 
 but to weigh his own interests first, without illusions 
 
202 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 about life or women. He will be taught that all women 
 are inferior in intellect and reason, weak in moral force and 
 must be treated accordingly. If he is sent to me, I will see 
 that he is provided for during my lifetime, and at my death 
 he will receive what you have forfeited by your own con- 
 duct. 
 
 I have selected a school for him which he can attend from 
 my house, and where he will receive the training I consider 
 necessary to make him the kind of man I desire. An im- 
 mediate answer will oblige. 
 
 Yours truely, 
 J. M. Glendon, Sr. 
 
 The pages fluttered to the floor of the porch, and then 
 Donnie looked up startled at the tone of his mother's 
 voice, when she said, "Run away and play with Tatters, 
 dear." 
 
 With a hasty caress, the boy, followed by the dog, moved 
 slowly toward the front gate. 
 
 "Well," Glendon's irritable tones sounded in her ears, 
 "how soon can you get him ready?" 
 
 "Let me keep him a little longer, Jim," pleaded the 
 mother. "He's only a baby yet." 
 
 "He's going on seven," retorted Glendon. "You've al- 
 ways been harping on wanting him to have a good educa- 
 tion. Now you've got your wish, I don't see what kick 
 you've got coming. I'll never have money enough to 
 send him away to school unless the old man helps me more 
 than he has done the last five years." 
 
 Curbing her inclination to remind him bitterly that other 
 men who were not drinking, but attending to their ranches 
 and stock, were able to afford schools for their children, she 
 said, "It has been my ambition ever since he was born, but 
 there are other things more important to his character that 
 I can teach him in the next two years." 
 
 Glendon lighted a cigarette and an ugly sneer distorted 
 his lips, "Want to tie him to your apron-strings, the way 
 you had me tied? Fine mess you've made of it for me! 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 203 
 
 If you hadn't been so high-headed with my folks, I never 
 would have left home to come to this God-forsaken hole 
 and bury myself alive ! ' ' 
 
 "I hoped it would strengthen you, help you conquer 
 yourself if we came away from companions who dominated 
 you back there; but I was wrong. All your better in- 
 stincts are dead and there is nothing left between us in com- 
 mon. Jim, if ever you had any love in your heart for me, 
 don't send Donnie away just now. Have you forgotten 
 that prisoners go mad from solitary confinement? 
 
 "Your dramatics are wasted on me! I intend to be 
 master in my own home. Father shall have the boy if he 
 wishes, and I hope he will knock some of those fool ideas 
 you have been putting into Donnie 's head lately. They'll 
 mould his character into something practical." 
 
 "They do not understand children," Katherine's voice 
 trembled, "your father means well, but Donnie would learn 
 to be a hypocrite through fear of him, or it would break the 
 child's heart. When Donnie is older, he would understand 
 better." 
 
 "Go ahead!" Glendon's lip lifted one side of his mouth 
 and gave him the appearance of a dog snarling. His blood- 
 shot eyes glared at him wife. "I say the boy shall go. 
 That settles it!" 
 
 "You shall not take him from me," Katherine spoke 
 passionately as she rose and faced her husband, who had 
 also risen. ' ' He is mine ! For his sake I have endured the 
 isolation of this place, the curses and abuse you have heaped 
 upon me, the degradation that I saw facing you. I have 
 not been blind to the class of men you associate with now, 
 but I struggled to keep you from sinking lower, just be- 
 cause you were the father of my boy. The last eight years 
 of my life have been continual mental starvation and moral 
 crucifixion. Donnie has given me the strength to bear it, 
 now he will give me the strength to keep you from robbing 
 me of him ! ' ' 
 
 "You may as well stop your hysterical ranting," Glenden 
 
204 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 shouted furiously. "The law gives the boy to me, and I 
 say he shall go to father next week." 
 
 "The law gives the child to the father," her voice quiv- 
 ered with indignation, "No matter what that father may 
 be; while the mother, who goes down to death to give the 
 child life, has no right! Oh, it is infamous! Why, even 
 the wild animals recognize a mother's rights. Men who 
 frame such a law and enforce it are worse than brutes!" 
 
 Glendon seized her arm roughly and glared into her 
 white, defiant face, his own was livid with rage. "Nothing 
 on God's earth can prevent Donnie from going." 
 
 1 ' He shall not go ! " her voice became suddenly quiet and 
 determined, and her eyes met Glendon 's without flinching. 
 1 ■ You owe him to me in return for the things of which you 
 have robbed us both. He has never had a father, never 
 dared to laugh like other children do, because he was afraid 
 of you. I will not never give him up to you or any one 
 else. He is mine!" 
 
 Glendon thrust her away from him with such violence 
 that she staggered. "I have the law back of me and I'll 
 do what I say, if I have to walk over your dead body to 
 doit!" 
 
 He flung himself into the house, knocking over a chair 
 as he passed it; then a bottle clinked against a glass. 
 
 The leaves of the magazine at the woman 's feet, fluttered 
 in the breeze while she stared with despairing eyes at the 
 grim mountains that walled her like a prison. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 1 
 
 ^HE next morning was Wednesday, and Glendon an- 
 nounced that he would start East with Donnie on 
 Saturday of the following week. 
 
 Katherine made no reply, uttered no protest. He sup- 
 posed the silence of despair meant submission, as he and 
 Juan started for Allan Flats, half way to Willcox, to be 
 gone several days. 
 
 "I'll be home Sunday night," were his last words as 
 he spurred his horse and headed it toward the road leading 
 out of the canon. Juan lingered a few seconds to say 
 "Adios" to the mother and child. The old Mexican carried 
 a heavy heart, for no one but the child was ignorant of the 
 impending separation. 
 
 The day passed happily for Donnie, while his mother 
 devoted her entire time to him. They strolled down the 
 canon, picking wild-flowers, then returning home, decorated 
 the rooms and discovered tha4: Juan had made a chocolate 
 layer cake for their enjoyment. After supper they sat 
 talking of the wonderful things Donnie was to do when he 
 was grown. Then followed an hour in the dining-room 
 with the beloved Galahad. 
 
 The next morning at breakfast, Donnie asked, "What 
 are we going to do today, Marmeef" 
 
 "Just whatever you wish," she answered with smiling 
 lips, but sad eyes. 
 
 1 ' Can 't we go on a picnic, Marmee ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, dear," was her reply. "I'll fix a lunch and saddle 
 
 the ponies and we'll be adventurers riding out to discover 
 
 a new country, and we won't come home till the stars are 
 
 out." 
 
 205 
 
206 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Donnie waited happily as his mother prepared the lunch. 
 With practised fingers she saddled their ponies; on the 
 boy's saddle, tied a canteen of water and the flour-sack 
 containing lunch, while on her own was fastened a roll of 
 Navajo blankets. 
 
 Katherine determined to snatch all the happiness possible 
 for the child and herself during her husband's absence. 
 Today she would forget that there must be a tomorrow; 
 today the child was her own, despite his father, despite the 
 laws of the Territory which said she had no right to her 
 boy. So her smile met the child's laughter as they mounted 
 their ponies and rode down the slope of the canon to the 
 place where the trail struck up the divide leading to Jack- 
 son Flats. 
 
 It was a tortuous trail. At times, going up the brushy 
 mountain sides, where cat-claw, mesquite, cacti and mescal 
 struggled between immense rocks. Disturbed quail, rab- 
 bits, an enormous lizard — the harmless brother of the 
 poisonous Gila Monster — dashed across the trail. Each 
 tiny incident was food for animated conversation between 
 the two riders; a new flower, a change of view as they 
 reached a certain point. In places there was hardly room 
 for their sure-footed ponies to travel single file. One side 
 of the trail was a high, rocky cliff, while the other side 
 dropped a thousand feet below. A displaced rock clattered 
 down the gully, startling a mountain-lion which leaped 
 from a freshly killed calf and skulked away. A coyote 
 appeared between boulders on the opposite side of the 
 canon, squatted down and watched the riders curiously. 
 
 Half way up the mountain they rode into a cave that 
 was large enough to shelter twenty horses and men. The 
 domed roof rose forty feet and the sides of the cave were 
 painted with curious emblems of a dead and unknown 
 people. The floor was strewn with bits of broken earthen 
 pottery, decorated with the same characters as the walls. 
 A few arrowheads of green and black flint were scattered 
 among the fragments of pottery; all that was left to tell 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 207 
 
 the history of those who had loved, hated, laughed and 
 wept — then died. 
 
 It had been a favourite ride for the mother and child, 
 and the relics had made foundation for many games and 
 stories. So the boy gathered pieces of the pottery and 
 amused himself trying to match them together, in emulation 
 of his mother. As they worked she told him the history of 
 those who had lived in this cave and fashioned the earthen 
 jars. After a couple of hours the novelty wore off, and 
 Donnie wanted to ride further. 
 
 "We can go to the top of the Box," said his mother. 
 " You've never been there yet; but it will be a hard climb. " 
 
 The child begged to try it, for she had told him that 
 when they reached the top of the mountain they could see 
 far across other hill-tops, beyond the San Pedro River — 
 an unknown world to him. 
 
 After she had tightened the cinches of the saddles and 
 they were mounted, she instructed the boy, "Lean well 
 forward in your saddle and hold the horn tightly, dear. 
 Give Pet a loose rein and you will not have any trouble at 
 all. He will follow Fox. It is a hard climb, and if you 
 jerk on the reins you will make Pet fall back." 
 
 The horses headed what appeared almost a perpendi- 
 cular wall. Donnie saw Fox stretch his body like a grey- 
 hound and fairly hurl himself in leaps at the steep incline, 
 scattering stones in every direction. Pet stood a moment, 
 undecided, then with a shrill whinny started after Fox. 
 Donnie grasped the horn of the saddle and clung to it 
 desperately, leaning forward and shutting his eyes. His 
 back jerked, his head wouldn't keep still, his heart beat 
 violently. 
 
 "If Pet would only keep still a minute," thought the 
 child. "Suppose Fox were to fall with Marmee, what 
 would I do?" 
 
 He pulled on the reins, but Pet, watching Fox, fought 
 the bit, and lunged ahead. 
 
 As if in answer to Donnie 's thoughts, his mother's voice 
 
208 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 drifted cheerily back to him: "Almost there, dear. 
 Tired?" 
 
 "Just a little bit," he replied, trying to be brave, but 
 wishing he could ride up beside her and hold her hand a 
 minute. Then he remembered Galahad had ridden alone, 
 and knights were not afraid of anything. He pretended 
 that the trail led to the castle of an enemy and he was going 
 to rescue those held prisoners, so with bolstered courage, he 
 kept his eyes open and fixed on the horse ahead of him. 
 
 They reached a sharp knoll that formed the apex of the 
 mountain; and after slipping from the ponies and tying 
 them to a stunted bit of scrub oak, Katherine clasped 
 Donnie's hand in her own, and together they approached 
 the edge of the cliff, and peered cautiously over. 
 
 Two thousand feet below was the canon, but where they 
 gazed, four solid walls arose like a gigantic box without a 
 cover. There was no entrance or exit. The Mexicans 
 called the place El Cajon, or the Box. Grass, flowers, trees 
 and a trickling stream from a spring lay at the bottom of 
 the Box, but nothing living could reach there. The walls 
 were as straight and sheer as the name of the place implied. 
 
 They drew back from inspecting it, and at Katherine 's 
 suggestion Donnie gathered wild flowers to decorate the 
 table on which she spread the lunch. The mother made 
 a pretense at eating, but the memory of the impending 
 separation thrust itself on her despite her determination 
 to forget it this one day. Neither she nor Glendon had told 
 the child, so no shadow of tragedy spoiled his enjoyment. 
 
 The ride had tired him, and after lunch was over, she 
 arranged the Navajo blankets. He stretched out lazily, 
 watching his mother draw his favourite book from her 
 saddlebag. Then he curled up with a sigh of ecstasy. 
 
 "Where shall I read?" she asked, smiling down at him. 
 
 "How Sir Galahad was made a knight," he answered, 
 "and about the Siege Perilous." 
 
 So she read until the brown head nodded and the eyes 
 closed slowly, then seeing the boy slept, she laid the book 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 209 
 
 aside, sitting motionless and watching him with miserable 
 eyes. 
 
 A white-winged butterfly flitted past her and hovered 
 over the boy's hand, finally settling lightly on it then dart- 
 ing on its way. She recalled the story of the baby Galahad 
 in his mother's arms and the white dove that had flown 
 through the window, and the words of the maiden who 
 bore the Sangreal, "And he shall be a much better knight 
 than his father. ' ' 
 
 A mother-quail with her tiny brood slipped from the 
 brush, peering about as she came forward. Fearing noth- 
 ing from the sleeping child or the mother who did not move, 
 the quail called her little ones about her and shared with 
 them the discovery of some crumbs. Katherine watched 
 them enviously; then her eyes strayed to the child. Re- 
 bellion against the law, against her husband, his father, and 
 life itself, overwhelmed her The quail had more right to 
 its brood than she had to her child. 
 
 The shadows lengthened as she sat fighting her battle, 
 all the training and beliefs of years falling from her. 
 
 What was the use of fighting any longer? She looked 
 at the Box. It was so quiet down there ; no one could take 
 Donnie away from her. Just a step, and they would be 
 safe together. 
 
 Her lips grew tense, and smoothing a piece of paper that 
 had been wrapped about the lunch, she searched the saddle 
 pocket until she found a stump of pencil, with which she 
 wrote : 
 
 Jim: 
 
 I could not give up my boy to have him learn that money 
 was the only thing worth-while — to be cruel and self-indul- 
 gent as your father wants him to be. I told you that you 
 owed him to me in payment of your debt. The law refuses 
 my child to me ; you, too, would rob me of him, even though 
 you know it will break his heart and mine. 
 
 I prayed God to aid me, and He will not answer my 
 prayers. When you read this, Donnie and I will be to- 
 
210 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 gether at the bottom of the Box. I did the best I could for 
 you, and failed ; but I will not fail with the boy. 
 
 Katherine. 
 
 Her hand was firm as she signed her name, and folding 
 the paper, she tied it to a stone which she placed in the 
 empty sack that had contained the lunch. The stone would 
 attract attention when the sack was untied. Securing the 
 sack to her side-saddle, she removed the halter-ropes from 
 the ponies' necks; then slipping both bridles, she tied them 
 to Donnie's saddle. If the horses did not go home at once, 
 or should there be no one at the Circle Cross for a couple 
 of days, she knew the animals could graze and water and 
 would not suffer. They had left Tatters in the stables 
 with water and food. She wished now that she had taken 
 the dog back to its former master. It would miss them. 
 
 Heading the horses toward the Hot Springs trail, she 
 slashed Fox across the flank with her whip. The animal 
 gave a snort of suprise then dashed toward home, while 
 Pet stumbled and tugged behind him down the narrow trail. 
 She watched them disappear around the curve; but later 
 she heard the tumbling of small rocks and knew her mes- 
 sage was on its way to Glendon. 
 
 Walking to the edge of the Box she looked down unflinch- 
 ingly. There was plenty time. When everything was dark 
 and quiet, it would be easy to take the sleeping child in her 
 arms; then neither man nor law could take him from her. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 DOCTOR Powell, lured by Chappo's description of 
 the cave on Jackson trail, had reached the place 
 an hour after Katherine and Donnie had started 
 for the Box. It was while examining the designs on the 
 various bits of pottery that he found fragments of broken 
 geodes, and eagerty continued his search, which was re- 
 warded with several specimens that were unbroken. 
 
 Powell, who was deeply interested in geology, knew there 
 were few places where the curious white crystals were 
 found, and his delight was augmented when he discovered 
 two of them in which the water could be distinctly heard ; 
 miosture which had fallen on hot lava that had hardened 
 too quickly to allow evaporation. 
 
 He was engaged in wrapping these rare specimens in 
 his handkerchief, when he heard his horse whinny, and as 
 he moved to the entrance of the cave, noticed Fox and Pet 
 picking their way down the steep trail. He saw the 
 saddles and that the ponies were tied together, so con- 
 cluded the horses had broken away and were homeward 
 bound, leaving Katherine and Donnie afoot higher up on 
 the trail. 
 
 Powell waited until the ponies stood beside his horse. 
 Then he moved quietly and secured them with his tie-rope, 
 and mounted his horse to lead the strays up the trail. He 
 had no thought of any danger to Katherine or Donnie, 
 until a turn in the trail revealed the top of the climb and 
 a woman standing perilously near the edge of the cliff. 
 He dared not call out, for fear of startling her and preci- 
 pating a tragedy; but he dropped the rope of the two 
 horses and urged his own forward. 
 
 Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead and his 
 
 211 
 
212 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 teeth bit into his lower lip. The horse puffed and stumbled, 
 for the big Spanish spurs slashed its sides without mercy. 
 Fox and Pet scrambled behind, the tie-ropes dragging on 
 the ground. 
 
 He reached the summit and closed his eyes, fearing he 
 was too late. With a throb of relief he saw Katherine still 
 poised at the edge of the Box, w T hile bits of decomposed 
 earth crumbled unnoticed beneath her feet. He realized 
 her danger. Chappo had spoken of the treacherous shale 
 overhanging the Box. 
 
 So engrossed was the woman that she did not hear him 
 slip from his horse and hasten noislessly to her side; but, 
 when his hand grasped her arm, gently, yet firmly, she 
 turned in shrinking fear that changed to piteous ap- 
 peal when she saw it w T as Powell, not Glendon, who stood 
 beside her. 
 
 The man read the tragedy in her eyes. Slowly he drew 
 her from the danger point, speaking quietly as he did so. 
 
 "This place is not safe, Mrs. Glendon. A moment's 
 dizziness might seize anyone." The earth at the edge was 
 crumbling as he spoke, a chunk of it crashed down into 
 the canon below, and Powell drew her further back. ' ' That 
 shale is rotten and liable to slide without an instant's 
 w T arning. I was in an Indian cave when I saw the ponies 
 had gotten away from you and Donnie. " 
 
 She knew he was giving her a chance to evade explan- 
 ations, but the N w r oman had reached a point where she 
 scorned further subterfuge. When one faces Eternity all 
 else shrivels to insignificance. "I was not dizzy," she 
 replied in a dull monotone. Then turning on him passion- 
 ately, she cried, "Why did you come? Do you know 
 Donnie is going away from me? In three days more my 
 boy will be taken out of my life and given to strangers 
 who care nothing for him? Why should we go on strug- 
 gling? I am tired of it all!" 
 
 In a flash he understood her purpose, and knew the 
 horses had not escaped accidentally. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 213 
 
 "And you thought that you could keep him with you 
 — down there?" Powell asked in a voice unsteady with 
 emotion. 
 
 She looked at him defiantly. "Yes, you may call it a 
 crime ; but I am willing to bear the punishment if there is 
 another world — if there is another world! It is a worse 
 crime to take a child from its mother and give it to the 
 father — no matter how unworthy he may be! I have 
 borne everything for the boy's sake; I could go on — bear- 
 ing everything the rest of my life — if I could only keep 
 my boy ! ' ' 
 
 Her voice dropped. Powell saw that her hands and 
 limbs were shaken with tremors. "I love him enough to 
 give him up with a smile, if I could know that it was for 
 his good. My only happiness lies in knowing I have 
 done the best I could for him." 
 
 He silently waited the reaction that must come. Her 
 hands covered her face; then a terrible sob shook her 
 body. It was not the sharp cry of remorse; but the 
 terrible soul-rendiag cry of a heart that is near to breaking, 
 and the man beside her ached to take her in his arms and 
 comfort her as he would a child. 
 
 "Tell me about it," he said at last, and she raised her 
 tear-stained face. 
 
 Without reservation, she told the story of the long, 
 bitter struggle to reform her husband; the hope that the 
 child would bring compensation and finally the letter and 
 her husband's decision which had driven her to despera- 
 tion. 
 
 "Yet, when it came to the point, you never would have 
 been cowardly enough to take your life and Donnie's," 
 he asserted. 
 
 "I don't know," she faltered. "A swimmer who 
 struggles against the tide reaches a moment when further 
 efforts are impossible. I have struggled, prayed and 
 fought until I am tired of it all. I want to stop thinking, 
 stop fearing the future — and sleep. It is sometimes easier 
 
21 4 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 to die than to keep on living. Life is too hard, too bitter, 
 too hopeless! You can't understand." 
 
 "But I do understand!" replied Powell earnestly. 
 "Sometimes one reaches a stone wall where there is no 
 way around, no way over it, yet, if we have the courage to 
 hold on, the wall topples when we least expect it What 
 seems impossible today may be accomplished tomorrow. 
 I am up against the hardest wall in my life, but I shall 
 not give up. In the quest of the Grail there must be no 
 faltering. We all see the vision once in life. ' ' 
 
 He laid his hands on hers, compelling her to look into his 
 eyes. "I have heard a soldier whose bravery was beyond 
 question, say that the impulse to seek a place of safety 
 during a battle is almost overpowering. Many men have 
 been unable to resist the temptation; and the pity is that 
 often one deserts, his colours just when victory is at hand. 
 You are brave enough to face the bullets. Don 't you know 
 the man who deserts, influences many others to drop their 
 colours too? Carry your colours bravely, comrade, that 
 I may have the courage to go on with my fight — won't 
 you?" 
 
 She turned impulsively and laid her two hands in his 
 close grasp that imparted new courage. ' ' I was a coward, ' ' 
 she said, "but I promise I'll not give up again! You 
 can 't realize how much you have helped me ! I will prove 
 my gratitude by not running from the bullets. ' ' 
 
 The doctor smiled at her. "That's right," he said 
 heartily; "but you overrate what I have done. You would 
 have won the battle by yourself. ' ' 
 
 He turned then, to see Donnie looking at them from sleep- 
 heavy eyes. 
 
 "Hello, Rip Van Winkle," called the doctor. 
 
 With a cry of delight the child leaped up and running 
 to Powell, threw his arms about the man's neck. "Oh, 
 you did come after all!" he cried triumphantly. Then 
 Katherine and Powell understood how the child missed the 
 man. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 215 
 
 The boy's unrestrained gladness relieved the tension 
 between his mother and the doctor. Finally Powell rose. 
 
 "Do yon know, I forgot that Chappo fixed a lunch for 
 me? Let's see what it is, Donnie. I'm getting hungry." 
 
 Katherine watched them make their way over the rough 
 ground, the child's hand held by the man. The mingled 
 voices happy with laughter, floated back to her from where 
 the ponies were tied. There might be an occasional gleam 
 of sunshine in life, if only the child were not taken from 
 her, she thought hopefully. Then she saw them returning, 
 carrying various articles which the doctor had extricated 
 from his big saddle bags, and now deposited on the ground 
 at her feet. 
 
 "Chappo knows I am a confirmed coffee-fiend," con- 
 fessed Powell. "You gather some sticks, Donnie, and we'll 
 pretend your mother is a captive queen whom we have 
 rescued from the cannibals. I'm Crusoe and you're 
 Friday." 
 
 "Friday was black," objected Donnie. 
 
 "Well, that was an island. This is a mountain, so you 
 can be a white Friday here, you see. ' ' 
 
 When the fire crackled and the large cup which Chappo 
 had provided for boiling coffee, sang merrily, the remnants 
 of Katherine 's lunch were added to what the Doctor had, 
 so a plentiful meal was spread. 
 
 "The trail is rather bad," suggested Powell as they 
 finished the impromptu feast, "so we had better start before 
 it grows late." 
 
 He tightened the cinches of the three saddles and adjusted 
 the bridles while Katherine and Donnie picked up the cups 
 and spoons. She was replacing a few articles in a sack 
 hanging on her saddle when she felt the rock and re- 
 membered the note she had written to her husband. Un- 
 tying the sack, she tore the paper into fragments that were 
 caught by the light evening breeze and tossed over the edge 
 of the Box. She watched them, then with a smile turned 
 to Powell, who waited to lift her to her pony's back. 
 
216 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Donnie, already on his pony, followed his mother as Fox 
 picked his way down the trail behind Powell 's horse. 
 
 Six miles away the Rim Rock rose over two thousand 
 feet or more, the massive, jagged sides reflecting a riotous 
 confusion of colours from the setting sun, until its vivid 
 beauty merged into a soft blue-grey, like the plumage on 
 the breast of a wild dove. 
 
 Sometimes the boy and Powell talked together as they 
 rode down the trail, or the mother joined in the conversa- 
 tion, but all the time she was conscious of a new strength, 
 a sense of comradeship that she had never before known in 
 her entire life. Her heart was lighter than it had been 
 for many years when she, Powell and Donnie reached the 
 gate of the Circle Cross. To her surprise, Glendon slouched 
 on the porch. 
 
 It was only Thursday and Glendon had said he would 
 be absent until Sunday night. She wondered what it 
 meant. 
 
 Her eyes turned to the child and fear gripped her 
 heart until it seemed as if she were suffocating. But 
 Powell's words came back to her, "Carry your colours 
 bravely, comrade" — She determined not to meet trouble 
 prematurely. After all, there probably was a very natural 
 explanation of the sudden return. Juan was coming up 
 from the barn, carrying a pail of fresh milk. It was the 
 usual routine of the ranch. She put her fears aside. 
 
 Powell opening the gate for Katherine and Donnie to 
 ride through, raised his hat courteously and spoke to Glen- 
 don. It was the best way to aid Glendon 's wife. The 
 other man looked at him between half -closed eyes that were 
 a studied insult, and made no reply. Neither did he 
 make any effort to assist his wife. 
 
 The doctor helped her from her horse, then lifted 
 Donnie to the ground, faying no heed to Glendon 's attitude. 
 With a few words to the woman and boy, Powell rode 
 through the gate toward Hot Springs. His blood boiled, 
 and it required all his will-power to avoid turning back 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 217 
 
 and mauling Glendon as he deserved; but, he realized it 
 would not help the woman. 
 
 Juan, having disposed of the milk-pail, hastened to lead 
 the ponies to the stable. Knowing that Glendon was in 
 one of his most surly moods, Katherine moved slowly up the 
 steps of the porch, trying to choke back her terrible dread. 
 "Carry your colours," she heard. 
 
 Something of the new-born hope and peace shone in her 
 eyes as she faced her husband silently. He knew that she 
 stood on heights he could not attain, and from which he was 
 powerless to drag her to his own level. Enraged, he leaned 
 closer. His unshaven face, bloodshot eyes, soiled shirt and 
 hot breath redolent of liquor, struck her senses like a 
 physical blow! With an effort she conquered the sicken- 
 ing repugnance, recalling her promise to Powell to carry 
 her colours bravely. She smiled at her husband and was 
 passing into the house, when he caught her arm in a brutal 
 clutch, jerking her back so that his face was close to her 
 own. 
 
 "Took you by surprise, coming back today, didn't I?" 
 he said meaningly. The child stood with pale fafce and 
 frightened eyes. "Thought I was out of the way, and 
 you sneaked off to meet your affinity, using your child as 
 a cloak! You can't fool me. If you and that dude think 
 you are pulling the wool over my eyes, you'll find your- 
 selves mistaken. You can tell him that, next time you and 
 he arrange to meet each other. I thought you'd fall for 
 the trap when I fixed it up yesterday morning. ' ' 
 
 Her face flushed deep red. She had borne every igno- 
 miny possible; but this accusation hurt like corroding 
 acid. Her impulse to cry out in self-defense faded as she 
 looked steadily into his wavering eyes. Like a whisper 
 came the memory of Powell's words, "Carry your colours 
 bravely." Quietly she answered, "Down in your heart, 
 Jim, you don't believe what you say. Doctor Powell 
 saved me and Donnie from death today. If he had not 
 been riding on the Jackson trail and found us when he 
 
218 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 did, the boy and I would both have been lying at the bottom 
 of the Box tonight.'* 
 
 "What were you doing up there ?" he snarled, glaring 
 at her. "More of your melodramatic drivel, as usual? 
 Powell for an audience ! ' ' 
 
 "I wonder if it would make any difference to you if 
 you knew the truth V she said brokenly. "I am worn 
 out struggling. The Box seemed the only way." 
 
 Dumbly, as though she had reached the limit of physical 
 as well as mental endurance, she turned from him and 
 entered the place she called home. 
 
 For a second Glendon hesitated; then with an oath he 
 called after her: "You can't bluff me with threats of 
 suicide. You haven't the nerve. I've said my last word 
 about sending the boy to Father. I'm going on Monday, 
 whether he's ready or not. I'll break your pride!" 
 
 Donnie's startled eyes widened and his face grew paler 
 as he realized that he was to be parted from his mother. 
 "With a stifled sob the child stumbled blindly up the steps, 
 past his father and threw himself into his mother's arms. 
 
 "Majfcnee! Marmee! Don't let me go!" 
 
 Katherine clasped the boy tightly, her eyes were dry, 
 but it seemed as if her aching heart would burst with 
 agony, knowing that she was helpless. 
 
 "Oh, God, give me the courage to live!" was her un- 
 uttered prayer. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 LIMBER and Powell were riding together in a 
 deep canon of the Galiuros. Neither had spoken 
 for some time, for often they rode together with- 
 out exchanging a word. Limber, who was slightly in 
 advance of the doctor, stopped Peanut and leaned forward 
 in his saddle. Then his quick glance brought Powell 
 closer. 
 
 From the thick undergrowth ahead of them a tiny spiral 
 of smoke rose faintly. Cautiously they urged their ponies ; 
 then through the brush, silently watched a man carrying 
 a hot branding iron in his hand. A cow was roped and 
 lying on the ground. The iron burned into the hide, the 
 smell of singed hair, the bellows of pain told the story. 
 The man's back had been toward them, but both Powell 
 and Limber had recognized the figure and walk. 
 
 They waited. The man loosed the rope that bound the 
 cow. It caught in a snarl, the cow struggled. With an 
 oath, he jerked the rope, at the same time giving the ani- 
 mal a vicious kick on the head. 
 
 It staggered to its feet and stood dazed for a second, 
 then darted into the brush ; but not before Limber and 
 Powell had seen the fresh brand. Limber leaned close to 
 the doctor and whispered, ''That's a PL cow and it's been 
 changed to a BD." 
 
 The eyes of the two men met in understanding. Again 
 they peered through the brush to see the other man rubbing 
 the hot iron in the dirt to cool it. He turned to his horse, 
 the iron in his hand. 
 
 An inspiration seized Powell. 
 
 219 
 
220 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "Quick! Let him know we saw him!" 
 
 Their ponies jumped forward under the spurs, but Glen- 
 don, busy tying the iron to his saddle, did not notice their 
 presence until Peanut's hoof crackled on a loose branch. 
 Glendon leaped to his horse, whirled it around and faced 
 them with his hand resting on his pistol holster. It 
 relaxed as he recognized them. 
 
 "Oh, hello!" he said affably, plainly speculating as to 
 how long they had been watching him. 
 
 Limber looked at him curiously. "Been brandin'?" he 
 spoke in a casual voice. 
 
 "No:" answered Glendon. "I was just looking over 
 the range. Glad we happened to meet." 
 
 Without comment, the cowpuncher rode to the still 
 smouldering embers, slipped from his saddle, then kicked 
 at the bits of charred and glowing wood. Before Glendon 
 realized it, Limber reached out suddenly and touched the 
 still hot iron fastened to Glendon 's saddle. 
 
 Glendon glared at him as the cowboy said very quietly, 
 "Looks as if your Greaser friend has come back from 
 Mexico, Glendon. I jest seen another of them BD bunch 
 you bought from him. It's got a fresh brand on it, too. 
 You must of just bought it today." 
 
 Glendon 's pony twisted toward Limber, Glendon 's hand 
 moved almost imperceptibly, but dropped quickly as 
 Limber called, "Don't tech your gun, you idjit!" 
 
 The eyes of Glendon shifted cat-like from Limber to 
 Powell, then his hands rested lightly on the horn of his 
 saddle and he leaned forward carelessly, saying, "Don't 
 you think you two have carried your joke about far 
 enough ? ' ' 
 
 " Joke !" vociferated the angry cowpuncher with an oath, 
 1 1 It means the Pen for you — if you call that a joke. ' ' 
 
 Glendon 's eyes narrowed as they rested on Powell, and 
 an expression of fury distorted his face. 
 
 "Oh, I see your little game now!" he snarled. "Going 
 to try to railroad me to the Pen so Powell can make love 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 221 
 
 to my wife. I'll see you both damned before you play 
 your last card. I'll show both of you up — and Katherine, 
 too!" 
 
 Two shots rang out together. The ponies reared as 
 bullets pinged past. Powell, unarmed, looked at Limber, 
 who stood with smoking pistol in his tense grip. The 
 remnant of Glendon's six-shooter was lying on the ground 
 some distance from his horse — knocked from his hand by 
 the shot from Limber's gun. That shot had saved Powell's 
 life. 
 
 Not one of the men spoke, but Powell who was un- 
 armed, leaped from his horse. All the rage that had con- 
 sumed him for months seethed over. He clutched at Glen- 
 don, dragged him, despite his struggles, from his horse, 
 and then face to face they met. All the knowledge of 
 the misery inflicted on Katherine by this man, lent addi- 
 tional strength to Powell's blows, while Glendon's hatred 
 responded in full. It was caveman against caveman, with 
 bare hands for weapons. 
 
 The fight was short but sharp. Though Glendon was a 
 much larger man than Powell, and had once been able to 
 hold his own with the gloves or at wrestling, years of dissi- 
 pation told on him now. A crashing blow from the doctor 
 stretched him on the ground motionless for several seconds ; 
 then his eyes opened and looked into the grim faces of the 
 two men who stood watching him. 
 
 "Get up," ordered Powell. 
 
 Glendon dragged himself to his feet, swayed dizzily and 
 passed his hand over his dazed eyes; slowly he moved to 
 a fallen tree and dropped heavily on it. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" he asked sullenly. "Send 
 me up? You won't get her that way. She'll stick to me." 
 
 Powell stepped to Glendon's side, his face white with 
 fury, his hands clenched ominously. "Keep your wife's 
 name off your dirty tongue," he commanded tensely, "or, 
 by God! I'll kill you." 
 
 Glendon knew it was no idle threat, and his eyes sought 
 
222 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 the ground until he was roused by Powell handing him 
 a note book and fountain pen. 
 
 "What's this for?" he demanded with an oath. 
 
 "Write what I dictate," Powell answered. 
 
 Glendon 's head jerked angrily, "I will write nothing, " 
 he retorted. 
 
 "You have ten minutes to do as I say;" Powell's voice 
 was like flint, and so were the angry eyes that regarded the 
 man at his feet. "Write. 'This is to confess that John 
 Burritt and Doctor Powell caught me changing a PL cow 
 to a BD and marking it with the Circle Cross. 
 
 Glendon laughed eontemptously. "Do you think I'm 
 such a fool as to sign a paper that will send me to the 
 penitentiary ? ' ' 
 
 "It's the only way that you can keep from going there," 
 was Powell's reply. 
 
 "Suppose I sign it?" 
 
 "Then, so long as you stop your crooked work and 
 behave decently, no one will know of this episode except 
 myself and Limber. In case you try to coerce your wife 
 in any way, or take Donnie from her as you plan, this paper 
 will be used by us to help her keep her boy. A woman has 
 no legal right to her child in Arizona, but neither has the 
 father if he is a convict. So it's up to you. I give you 
 ten minutes." 
 
 The doctor seated himself on a boulder, holding his 
 open watch in his hand, while Glendon sat staring at the 
 ground in helpless fury. 
 
 "Time's up," announced Powell, snapping the cover of 
 his watch and placing it in his pocket. "Well, what is 
 your answer?" 
 
 "I'll write what you say," muttered Glendon, reaching 
 out for the pen and notebook. 
 
 Powell repeated the words while Glendon with shaking 
 hand signed his name to the confession. His face was 
 white with rage as he returned the book to Powell. 
 
 1 ' Sign as a witness, please, Limber ; ' ' and the cowpuncher 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 223 
 
 signed his name, "John C. Burritt," beneath whieh was 
 written, "Cuthbert Powell," and the date. Then the doc- 
 tor pocketed the pen and book. 
 
 "You might as well know," commented Powell, "that 
 this paper will be forwarded immediately to my attorneys 
 in the East, with instructions how to act in event of any 
 stray bullet or other mysterious accident happening to 
 Limber or me. Our safety is your only protection. Now, 
 I think we understand each other perfectly. ' ' 
 
 Glendon made no answer. The three men mounted their 
 ponies, rode through the canon, climbed the backbone of 
 the mountain and worked down the narrow trail that 
 merged into the road leading to the Hot Springs. None 
 of them spoke. Each was busy with his own thoughts. 
 
 As they approached the Hot Springs ranch, Powell 
 looked critically at Glendon 's bruised eye and swollen 
 hands. It was a purely professional survey, and Glendon 
 recognized it as such when the doctor spoke. 
 
 "Come in," was the curt command. "You can't let 
 your wife see you that way, unless you want me to tell her 
 the whole truth." 
 
 Glendon hesitated, then reined his pony at the gate and 
 dismounted painfully. 
 
 Though Powell's hands were deft and light, Glen- 
 don knew they were not ministering lovingly, while they 
 bandaged the bruises they had inflicted. It goaded him to 
 submit; but he had no alternative. Limber sat watching 
 the two men. The room was silent save for the doctor's 
 movements. 
 
 "That will do," he said at last, and Glendon rose from 
 the chair, his hands bandaged and one eye covered with a 
 patch. "Limber, you may ride down with him, and tell 
 Mrs. Glendon that her husband met with an accident and 
 we were lucky enough to be near; but there is nothing to 
 cause her any anxiety so long as her husband is careful," 
 he regarded Glendon steadily as he uttered these words. 
 
 Then without further addressing his patient, the doctor 
 
224 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 turned into his bedroom, carrying the bandages with him, 
 and Glendon, with the suppressed fury of a volcano, fol- 
 lowed the cowboy to the gate. 
 
 From a window, Powell watched them ride side by side 
 down the road toward the Circle Cross. With grim satis- 
 faction he recalled the fight in the canon. He knew that 
 Limber would deliver his message to Glendon 's wife, and 
 that Glendon would not contradict it. 
 
 When Limber returned, he reported to the doctor that 
 Mrs. Glendon would care for the patient, and she sent her 
 thanks to Doctor Powell. Limber's eyes had a lurking 
 twinkle that was reflected in Powell's. 
 
 "It's plumb lucky you thought about fixin' things so's 
 he can't take Donnie away from her," the cowpuncher 
 spoke in admiration. " I 'd a never thought of it. ' ' 
 
 For the first time the doctor told Limber of the despera- 
 tion of the mother, and the narrow averting of a terrible 
 tragedy in the Box. Limber 's face was white and his grey 
 eyes glazed. 
 
 "Doc, do you mean ter tell me that she ain't got no right 
 to Donnie? An' Glen kin take him away anytime he wants 
 to?" 
 
 "That is the way the law stands now, Limber. I looked 
 up the matter through a lawyer in Tucson after I came 
 to live at the Springs and saw the terrible struggle she was 
 making. She does not believe in divorce, but even if she 
 did, the law is on his side ; so long as he keeps from being 
 classed as a criminal. If she leaves Glendon, he can keep 
 the child." 
 
 "If I'd knowed that," Limber spoke very quietly, "I 
 wouldn't have been so careful aimin' at that pistol in his 
 hand, when he pulled his gun on you and you wasn't 
 armed. ' ' 
 
 "Well, it worked out still better," responded Powell, 
 "We've got him just where we want him now, thank God !" 
 
 Limber stared at the cigarette rings above his head, and 
 sat thinking for quite a while, before he said, "Some day 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 225 
 
 something goin' to bust them laws. It takes a heap to 
 wake people up, but when they get woke up they'll he like 
 the ol' white horse and the China pump at the Diamond II. 
 
 "You see, we uster work him at the big pond, and the 
 water was pumped from the well with an' ol' fashioned 
 pump called a China pump. That was before the Boss got 
 gasoline engines. You may believe me, or not, Doc, but it 
 was that ol' white horse that got the first engine on the 
 ranch. For live years oP Whitey was hitched up to the 
 cross-bar and a blinder put across his eyes, then he was 
 started, an' once he started, he jest kept on goin' round and 
 round without nobody watching him and he never knowed 
 the difference. 
 
 "But one day he stopped short, and of course, thar 
 warn't no water pumpin', the troughs was dry and the 
 cattle bawlin' their heads off. Me and the Boss rid near, 
 and went over to see what was makin' the trouble. The 
 cows was climbin' over each other's backs trying to get 
 a drink. Well, we found ol' Whitey 's blind had slid down 
 so he could see outen one eye. 
 
 "I fixed it back and said, 'Git-tap,' expectin' he would 
 go long jest as he always done, but Whitey never moved 
 a step. 
 
 "I touched him with my quirt, and then that ol' horse 
 that was old enough to die three times over and had never 
 done a mean thing in his life, turned loose and kicked the 
 stuffin' outen the woodwork of that pump as far as he could 
 reach. ' ' 
 
 Limber paused in retrospection, and Powell said, "What 
 happened next ? ' ' 
 
 "Northin' happened. That was the trouble. They 
 never could use him again on the pump ; and every other 
 horse we tried had to have a man stay with it, because 
 Whitey was the only one that had worked without bein' 
 watched, you see. So the Boss put in the gasoline engine 
 down thar. When Whitey found he was bein' fooled into 
 jest goin' around and around and never gettin' nowhar, 
 
226 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 he up and busted things good and plenty. An' that's the 
 way with people when the blind slips off. Someday, some 
 one's blind is goin' to slip down and then thar 11 be Hell 
 to pay with that law in Arizona ! ' ' 
 
 "If the men who frame the laws could see each individual 
 affected unjustly by that law, standing before them and 
 know how it could be twisted to injure a life, they would be 
 more careful in enacting a law. Do you think for a min- 
 ute, Limber, that any man, or body of men, who passed the 
 law giving a father sole right to his children, would en- 
 dorse that law today — if they knew what you and I know 
 about Glendon and his wife ? ' ' 
 
 "No! You bet thar isn't a decent man in Arizona that 
 would stand for it," Limber answered emphatically, "But 
 it's thar, and we can't help it now. Only I wisht I knowed 
 all this yesterday, that's all. Arizona's got some good 
 laws. One of 'em is that the feller what draws on an un- 
 armed man, ain't got no right to live hisself." 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 
 
 SUNDAY morning Katherine woke in dread. Tomor- 
 row, Donnie would leave her. The child now real- 
 ized the truth and his grief had torn her heart. His 
 eyes followed her in mute appeal. 
 
 Breakfast was eaten in silence. Afterward Glendon 
 mounted his horse and rode from the ranch alone. He 
 spoke not a word to Juan or Katherine, and Donnie watch- 
 ing furtively, kept out of his father's sight as much as 
 possible. 
 
 Through a window Katherine watched her husband ride 
 away. A look of determination shone in her eyes when she 
 turned back to the work of clearing the dining-table. The 
 look grew, while she washed the dishes and straightened 
 the house. Juan was chopping wood and Donnie sat 
 quietly on the steps of the front porch, his troubled eyes 
 clouded with tears that he Would not let his mother see. 
 
 "Juan," called Katherine suddenly from the kitchen 
 window. 
 
 The Mexican let the ax fall from his hand and trotted to 
 her, "Si, Seriora," he smiled. 
 
 "I'm going to write a letter. Can I trust you with 
 it?" 
 
 She did not need words to assure her of his faithfulness 
 but he answered, as he made the Sign of the Cross, "On my 
 heart I swear it, Seiiora!" 
 
 He went back to his wood-chopping, while Katherine 
 seated herself at the dining-table and began writing. It 
 was a desperate hope. Only the thought of her boy could 
 have forced her to such a step. 
 
 When Katherine Courtney had been left an orphan at the 
 
 227 
 
228 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 age of ten, the only legacy had been unblemished reputa- 
 tions of her parents. An aunt of her mother's had come 
 forward with an offer to educate the girl until she could 
 support herself. It was distinctly stated that no further 
 benefits were to be expected, and this was done only to 
 prevent the possibility of even a remote family connection 
 becoming a public charity charge, as was possible. 
 
 The sum allowed yearly did not tend to affluence or ex- 
 travagance, and Katherine had felt the obligation from the 
 very first day, she and "Aunt Jane Grimes" had an inter- 
 view. The old lady's grim, aggressive manner had re- 
 pressed the lonely child's inclination to fling herself upon 
 the one human being who took any interest in her. Aunt 
 Jane was wealthy, an old maid — and proud of it — energe- 
 tic, economical to the verge of penuriousness, she recognized 
 three great factors in the universe — her church, her coun- 
 try's flag and Prohibition. 
 
 The one meeting ended all communication between the 
 child and old lady, until Katherine was graduated with 
 the highest honours, and wrote Aunt Jane that she was 
 now fitted to make her own way in the world as a teacher, 
 and would soon begin paying back the heavy obligation of 
 the years in school. 
 
 To her surprise, Aunt Jane invited her to come for a 
 visit to the old-fashioned homestead in Maine. "I'd like 
 to see what sort of a person I am responsible for," the old 
 lady wrote. "Your reports from school regarding marks 
 and deportment are satisfactory; but you can't wear these 
 placarded on your breast for the rest of your life. So I 'd 
 like to have a look at you." 
 
 The inspection proved sufficient for the old lady to un- 
 bend and become almost human. Katherine 's gratitude 
 and her sincere desire to avoid being a burden, won Aunt 
 Jane's silent approbation. After two weeks, when Kath- 
 erine spoke again of plans to start earning her own living, 
 the old lady had turned on her fiercely. 
 
 "Do you call that gratitude?" she demanded glaring 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 229 
 
 through her steel -rimmed glasses. "Leaving me alone in 
 this big house with only Ann, and she 's a fool ! ' ' 
 
 Ann was the one maid employed, she refused to share her 
 responsibilities with any other servant. Ann was a family 
 heirloom, but despite her age she clung tenaciously to life. 
 In fact, it had become a grim determination on the part 
 of Ann, and likewise on the part of Aunt Jane, not to die 
 first. 
 
 "Ann's just itching to see me buried, " averred Aunt 
 Jane, "and every morning when I go to breakfast she 
 watches to see whether I eat all the boiled egg, or two 
 full pieces of toast. I 'm tired of being shut up alone with 
 her all winter." 
 
 So Katherine remained, and for a wonder, Ann, too, ap- 
 proved. 
 
 "Miss Grimes is just waitin' for me to die," Ann 
 grumbled, "but her Paw's will says I'm to have a home 
 here as long as I live. And I'll be here long after I hear 
 'em singing over her coffin. I'm glad you're going to stay 
 here. The winters are terrible when we're snowed in so 
 long, just her and me, and she's awful old and crotchetty." 
 
 Companion, housekeeper, peacemaker between the two 
 old women ; nurse to each in turn ; secretary for Aunt Jane's 
 large business correspondence and charities, Katherine paid 
 her debt cheerfully for three years, and nothing broke the 
 monotony of her life. 
 
 During the winter months the seaside village hibernated, 
 but in the summer it woke as a resort for wealthy society 
 people who wished to avoid what they termed "the rabble." 
 It was only for a short period; and during that time, Aunt 
 Jane shut her front blinds tightly, and with Katherine and 
 various old-fashioned trunks containing her feather bed 
 and own linen, hied to a still more remote farm inland ; 
 only returning when the gay, social whirl was a thing of 
 the past. 
 
 But, the third summer, Aunt Jane succumbed to a touch 
 of "out, and had not the courage to go away from the old 
 
230 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 doctor who had attended her family for two generations. 
 He had presided at the advent of Aunt Jane into this 
 world of troubles. "I don't mind his seeing my bare foot 
 and ankle," she announced, "but I'm not going around 
 showing it to any strange man at my age, even if he is a 
 doctor." 
 
 So the trunks and feather mattress were not disturbed, 
 the green blinds were not fastened, and the wide porch 
 become a place of habitation after Katherine had installed 
 chairs, a couch, books, and at last a tiny table which was 
 used in the afternoons for a cup of tea out of the old- 
 fashioned blue and white china — the pride of Aunt Jane's 
 heart. Ann's austere face relaxed, and on one memorable 
 occasion, Katherine found the erstwhile foes, laughing to- 
 gether over long-forgotten jokes. 
 
 Then, the unexpected happened. "While in a store, a 
 former classmate recognized Katherine, and insisted on 
 calling. Aunt Jane succumbed to the wiles of the new- 
 comer, whose sympathy at Katherine 's isolation resulted 
 in various invitations to a "bite of lunch with just me, 
 alone." Thus it was that Jim Glendon saw her one day, 
 obtained an introduction and lost no time in his determina- 
 tion to marry her. 
 
 Aunt Jane, when the young man called, listened grimly 
 to his family social assets and financial standing, then she 
 looked him up and down appraisingly, and announced 
 calmly, "I don't like you. There's your hat." 
 
 Glendon retreated in confusion to report to Katherine 
 and her chum. Between his insistence and the urging of 
 the girl friend, the affair terminated in a hasty marriage. 
 When Katherine broke the news to her aunt, she was in- 
 formed that Katherine Courtney was dead. "I've never 
 been acquainted with any one named Katherine Glendon, 
 and I don't care to meet such a person," was Aunt Jane's 
 ultimatum. 
 
 Each month, for several years, Katherine had written her 
 aunt, but none of the letters had been answered. Then 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 231 
 
 she wrote to Ann, and received the letter endorsed, DEAD ! 
 The writing was that of Aunt Jane, and Katherine had shed 
 bitter tears; for she now understood that these two old 
 women had given her their affection, and shown it in the 
 only way they knew how. 
 
 Today she wrote again to Aunt Jane. The letter told 
 without reserve or palliation, the conditions at the Circle 
 Cross, the plan of Glendon to rob her of Donnie, and that 
 the law gave men such rights. She reminded Aunt Jane of 
 their last interview, "You said then, 'When you wish the 
 shelter of my home from the man you have married, you will 
 be welcome — but not till then ! ' I beg sanctuary for my 
 boy and myself. I will work till the flesh wears from my 
 fingers, if you will try to help me someway now. I cannot 
 give him up. If you ever loved any one in your entire 
 life, Aunt Jane, try to remember it now, for my boy is the 
 only thing that makes me try to live. ' ' 
 
 The letter was splashed with tears. It was her last hope. 
 
 She gave it to Juan; "Take it to the Hot Springs and 
 ask them to please send it to town by the first person who 
 goes from there." Juan's eyes looked into hers, "Si, 
 Senora, I understand." He tucked the letter into his 
 shirt, mounted his waiting pony and loped down the 
 canon. 
 
 He did understand, and what he told Doctor Powell and 
 Limber caused the cowpuncher to saddle Peanut, take the 
 letter and ride to Willcox at once. Juan went back to the 
 Circle Cross and reported, "Leember, he was ready to start 
 to Weelcox, so he took the letter with heem, Senora." 
 
 Juan knew that the Priest told him it was a mortal sin 
 to lie ; but he did not count this any lie — Limber had taken 
 the letter to Willcox. 
 
 Katherine wondered at herself, planning surreptitiously 
 to oppose her husband for the first time in the years of their 
 married life ; but, when her eyes went to the boy, she felt 
 she had done right. Aunt Jane, if favourably disposed, 
 would use all her wits to circumvent Glendon, whom she 
 
232 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 hated. If Glendon knew that Aunt Jane was read}' to 
 take her part and the boy's, he probably would not press 
 the matter of sending Donnie away. Glendon 's father had 
 refused further financial aid, or to even communicate with 
 his son, and Aunt Jane was wealthy. This might influ- 
 ence Glendon. 
 
 In her anxiety to get the letter off, Katherine had 
 omitted mentioning her complete isolation from all mail 
 facilities. Even, now she forgot it. 
 
 Night fell. Two hours after dark Glendon reached home. 
 The horse from which he dismounted was worn and weary; 
 the hair was stiff with dried sweat and lather, its flanks 
 drawn. 
 
 Without a word, Glendon ate the belated supper. Don- 
 nie watched him with frightened eyes. Juan hovered in 
 the kitchen on various excuses, until Glendon went to bed. 
 
 Monday morning broke. Breakfast was a silent meal. 
 Katherine 's face was pallid, deep circles of black lay under 
 her eyes, her lips quivered. The morning passed. Glen- 
 don loafed about the ranch all day, coming into the house 
 at frequent intervals. Each time he did so, his wife started 
 nervously, and Donnie 's breath came more quickly. Glen- 
 don scrutinized them with a malignant smile. He knew 
 they were both suffering with dread, but was determined 
 he would not relieve their fears. He gloated at their men- 
 tal torture. 
 
 When a boy, Glendon had revelled in tearing the wings 
 from butterflies, so that their delicate flight in the sunshine 
 must end in creeping mutilated upon the ground. Though 
 his wife was not responsible for his thwarted plans, still 
 he gloried in his power to torture her for his humiliation 
 by Powell and Limber. 
 
 Monday passed, and Tuesday followed. She dared not 
 hope, for she did not know what hour Glendon might decide 
 to start. She feared to ask any question that might pre- 
 cipitate the crisis she dreaded. She felt like a prisoner con- 
 demned to death who is kept in ignorance of the day or 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 233 
 
 hour of his execution, and each passing moment, dies a new 
 death. 
 
 Glendon studied the dumb agony in her face. It gave a 
 new zest to his life. He knew that neither Powell nor 
 Limber would tell her of the paper he had signed, so long 
 as Donnie was not sent away ; but, neither Powell nor Lim- 
 ber had thought they were giving him a weapon to use 
 upon her — the torture of uncertainty that drives to mad- 
 ness. 
 
 So the days passed into weeks, but not once did Glendon 
 allow her a glimmer of hope. All the while she waited for 
 an answer to the letter she had written Aunt Jane. But, 
 at last she gave that up in despair. 
 
 For three months the situation remained unchanged. 
 Katherine grew haggard, her movements listless, and Don- 
 nie still watched his father's goings and comings with 
 frightened eyes and beating heart. 
 
 The drouth was telling on Glendon 's small herd, but he 
 had more important things to think about now. His trips 
 to Willcox were frequent; his periods in town stretched 
 over many days. Katherine might have wondered, had she 
 not been occupied with her own anxiety — Donnie. 
 
 Each time Glendon made preparations to drive to Will- 
 cox, she waited the command that would tear the boy from 
 her. When trip after trip was made without the ordeal, 
 her heart began to take courage. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 
 
 ARIZONA, like a pouting child, was indulging in 
 one of her periodic drouths, and cattle were slowly 
 succumbing to starvation. The winter snows and 
 rains had been insufficient to start the Spring grass, and 
 though it was now late in August and the summer rains 
 usually began in June, not a drop had fallen. 
 
 Most of the water-holes were dry, and water in the wells 
 of ranches sank further from the surface each day. Many 
 springs considered permanent, degenerated into mere mud- 
 holes where cattle bawled and crowded one another into the 
 bogs till the weakest fell and were suffocated or trampled 
 to death. The country was not only devoid of green grass, 
 but what dry feed was left contained no nutriment what- 
 ever. 
 
 Ranchers fortunate enough to own permanent springs, 
 -or wells that were not yet dry, guarded the water jealously, 
 notifying neighbours to come and care for the stray cattle 
 that lingered bellowing around the closed watering places, 
 or walked aimlessly for miles beside the barbed w T ire fences 
 that kept them from the water they could smell. Tiny 
 calves trailed weakly behind skeleton cows; other cows 
 abandoned their young; and all added hysterically to the 
 din of constant bellowing wherever there was a pool of 
 water to lure them. 
 
 Sulphur Springs Valley was over a hundred miles long. 
 It spread twenty miles across from the Grahams to the 
 Galiuros, and was broken by groups of cottonwood trees 
 clustering about small ponds of water supplied by wind- 
 mills. Ordinarily these ponds were open to all stock, but 
 now the gates were closed. Unless the water were used 
 
 234 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 235 
 
 economically there would soon be none in reserve, as a few 
 days without wind would cut off the daily supply from the 
 windmills, and dry up the ponds. 
 
 Each day at ten o'clock the gates were opened. Cow- 
 boys stood guard, allowing the cattle bearing the ranch 
 brands to enter the water-corrals, all other stock being- 
 "cut" away from water. The owners of these strays, 
 having been notified, sent men to drive their own cattle 
 home; but the animals would not remain away. Ac- 
 customed to ranging and watering in a certain locality, 
 they would return and stand dumbly watching other cattle 
 drink, waiting patiently for their own turn. When night 
 fell, they lay down by the fence, lowing pitifully until 
 morning, when they would again stagger to their feet. 
 Sometimes, in frenzy, an animal tried to break through the 
 wire fence, cutting itself on the barbs and growing steadily 
 weaker hour by hour, till at last there was another carcass 
 to be hauled away from the fence about the water corrals. 
 
 The August heat was intensified by the drouth, and a 
 discussion in the corrals had annoyed Traynor. With the 
 mood still on him, he entered the living-room of the Dia- 
 mond H, where his wife was sitting beside a couch on which 
 Jamie was sleeping. The boy had grown listless of late, 
 and Nell tried to deceive herself by blaming the weather. 
 Doctor Powell had been with them almost constantly, bat- 
 tling with all his skill for the waning life. 
 
 Traynor stooped over the child, then paced restlessly 
 up and down the room. "I wish I could see a way to get 
 you and the boy off to California, Nell, until this drouth is 
 over. You both need the change. You have been a plucky 
 little woman, never making a single complaint ; yet I know 
 how much the boy means to you. He is as dear as an own 
 son to me, and it is maddening to be tied hand and foot, 
 so that I cannot help you. I was a fool that I did not 
 accept the offer of that Eastern syndicate last Fall — but 
 cattlemen are all fools ! None of us will sell during a good 
 year. Wlien the drouth hits us we curse ourselves for let- 
 
236 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ting a sale slip. Drouth or no drouth, the men have to be 
 paid; grain bought for the horses and provisions for us 
 all. Where the money is coming from, the Lord only 
 knows — I don't." 
 
 He flung himself moodily into a chair. Rising swiftly, 
 Nell went to his side and slipped her arm about his neck, 
 looking down into his face as he tried to smile up at her. 
 
 "Can't you pay the men with checks on the stores as 
 you have always done?" she asked. "You told me once 
 the stores carried all bills for five or six months, and ac- 
 counts were settled when cattle were sold at the regular 
 shipping season." 
 
 "That would be all right, ordinarily; but unfortunately 
 the stores don't see it that way just now. They not only 
 refuse further credit for cash or merchandise, but are ask- 
 ing settlements of all accounts in full, saying they are be- 
 ing pressed by their own creditors. Of course, one cannot 
 very well blame them. They have to 'save their own 
 bacon;' as the boys say." 
 
 ' ' Is there any chance of getting money from the Tuscon 
 bank?" asked his wife, hopefully. "When Mr. Eisenbart 
 was here he said this ranch was the finest piece of property 
 — not only in the Territory — but in the entire west." 
 
 "That did not cost him anything," retorted Traynor bit- 
 terly. "You see, like most cattlemen, I have never es- 
 tablished a credit at any bank, being satisfied to do all my 
 business through the stores which cash my checks. Con- 
 sequently, now that the stores are closing down on me, I 
 have no other place to turn ! " He paced the floor restlessly 
 and Nell watched him with troubled eyes, realizing how lit- 
 tle she could help. 
 
 "I should have opened an account with some California 
 bank long ago," he continued. "However, there's no use 
 crying over spilled milk. I did not fully understand how 
 critical my position was until I wrote to Eisenbart two 
 weeks ago. I offered a mortgage on the ranches and all 
 the stock, at twelve per cent, for a five thousand dollar 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 237 
 
 loan! Why, this place is worth five hundred thousand 
 dollars ! He answered they were not making any new loans 
 and were calling in all outstanding notes. No one wants a 
 mortgage on dead or dying cattle, but the land would have 
 been ample security for ten times what I needed." 
 
 Traynor stood by the window, staring out at the sky. 
 He turned and resumed his restless walking to and fro, 
 "God! If it would only rain! It's not just myself, but 
 you and Jamie, and I want to get you two away to the Coast 
 for a while. Then I got Powell into the mess, too. This 
 drouth hits his plans pretty hard. All his money is now 
 tied up in the Springs and the PL herd that he bought from 
 Paddy!" 
 
 "But the Springs are not affected?" said Nell, "Limber 
 told me that nothing can influence that water supply." 
 
 "No; there is that much to be thankful for, at least," he 
 admitted wearily, sinking down into a chair, and letting his 
 head drop into his hands. Nell crossed softly, and her hand 
 caressed the bowed head, until Traynor 's face looked up at 
 her. The haggard, drawn lines about eyes and mouth, 
 distinct in the glaring light from the window, smote her 
 heart with pity and longing to comfort him. 
 
 "Dearest, I don't care how poor we are, so long as I 
 have you and Jamie ;" she was looking into his eyes bravely. 
 "You did not marry a rich girl; but one who knew what 
 poverty meant, and poverty where there was no one to 
 speak an encouraging word. "We have a roof that is our 
 own. Even if the cattle die, the drouth cannot last for 
 ever. When the rains come again we can mortgage the 
 land, and get — why we can get a few chickens and a milk- 
 cow, maybe," she laughed. "I have learned to make dandy 
 butter, so we can sell butter and eggs ; if we can't get money 
 enough to buy a bunch of cattle. We won't stay down, if 
 we do get bowled over!" 
 
 "Nell! Bless your heart, you'd help any man get on his 
 feet. Someday, please God, I will be able to give you 
 everything money can buy." 
 
238 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 " Nothing you could buy would make me as happy as 
 knowing I am able to help you," she smiled through a mist 
 of tears. 
 
 "I must go out and see what the boys are doing/' and 
 with head erect Allan Traynor passed through the 
 door. Soon Nell heard his whistle — the first time for 
 many days. 
 
 The regular round-up had been deferred until Fall, as 
 the cattle were too weak to be handled and branded. The 
 Diamond H men were kept busy, however, working the cat- 
 tle at the watering places or riding the range where the 
 weakest stock was "cut out" and driven slowly to the 
 ranch and fed at the big stacks of native hay, or in the 
 pastures that Traynor 's foresight had reserved for such 
 an emergency. Other ranchers, who had been amused at 
 his idea of fencing pastures when the whole country was an 
 open range, now saw his plans had been good judgment, and 
 looked with chagrin at their own dying cattle which might 
 have been saved by such measures. 
 
 One afternoon near sunset, Paddy Lafferty appeared at 
 the Diamond H stables. Tying his dejected, flea-bitten 
 grey horse in a stall, he unbuckled his rusty spurs and hung 
 them over the horn of his saddle. 
 
 "Whar's Limber?" he asked Bronco, who passed the 
 door of the building. 
 
 "Hot Springs," Bronco returned, in gasps of lighting a 
 cigarette. "Doc's at — Tucson." 
 
 "Whar's the bye?" 
 
 "Inside the house." 
 
 Paddy waited no longer, but stalked through the Court 
 and knocked at the door of the sitting-room. 
 
 Nell met him and her eyes lighted with pleasure, for his 
 quaint, Irish humour was never tiresome to her. Then, too, 
 she saw the sincerity under the surface. Paddy stepped 
 with awkward care across the room and seated himself on 
 the edge of a chair. 
 
 "How do he bye a doin'?" he asked in his customary 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 239 
 
 hoarse whisper, jerking his head toward the lounge where 
 Jamie lay in uneasy sleep. 
 
 "Not as well as usual, Paddy. He tires easily," she 
 answered sadly, knowing only too well that the little life 
 was slipping away hour by hour, though she had kept the 
 thought to herself, believing that Traynor was still blind 
 to the truth and not wishing to add to his many anxieties. 
 She was unaware that Powell and Traynor had warned the 
 boys not to speak to her of the child's serious condition. 
 
 Paddy had also been told of the deception, and had given 
 his word to Traynor. He sat looking at Nell intently, 
 knitting his shaggy eye-brows, and trying to think what to 
 say without betraying his knowledge. 
 
 "Mebbe it's the weather do be a doin' it. Misthress 
 Thraynor. "Whin the rain comes he will be afther falih' 
 betther." 
 
 "Oh, if we could only get rain!" she cried. "Do you 
 think the cattle blame us for their suffering when they look 
 at us with their pitiful, patient eyes? I want to tell them 
 we are suffering, too. Yesterday I watched a cow, stand- 
 ing by her dying calf, licking its face. It was like some- 
 thing human. After it died the mother stood there — and 
 this morning she would not leave it until I asked Bronco 
 to take it away from her. I couldn't stand it. Please 
 don't think I am crazy, Paddy, but it seemed so cruel that 
 a tiny, helpless creature should come into the world for a 
 few weeks, only to suffer and die." 
 
 "Yez ain't the only wan that do be a worritiu' over the 
 sayson, Misthress Thraynor," rejoined Paddy, who had 
 found conversational bearings at last. "Paple passes on 
 the road widout savin' ache ither, becoz they're all so busy 
 lookin' up at the sky — " he was trying hard to tide her 
 over the danger point. "They're all a boyin' linnyments 
 to rub their necks, becoz of the kinks from lookin' for the 
 clouds." Nodding approval at a faint smile he had evoked, 
 he w T ent on: " Yez was talkin' about cattle havin' rayson, 
 Misthress Thraynor. Did yez be afther knowin' whin 
 
240 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ould cows on the range have young calves too wake to walk 
 fur, they all put their heads together and talk it over, 
 loike a lot of women-folks does, an' thin wan of thim cows 
 sthays and takes care of four or foive calves, whilst the 
 ither cows goes off to wather, mebbe tin miles away. Thin 
 she takes her turn whin the ithers comes back. Now, if 
 that ain't rayson, be jabers, phwat is it?" 
 
 "I believe all animals have some reason, Paddy. It is 
 human beings who do not understand them. We call them 
 dumb brutes, because we lack the patience or intelligence 
 to comprehend. I have learned a great deal since coming 
 here to live." 
 
 "Did yez iver say a cow funeral, Misthress Thraynor?" 
 asked Paddy. 
 
 "No, but I have heard the boys speak of them," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 "It's a funny thing," went on Paddy. "Sometoimes a 
 critter 's been killed a wake or two, and no soign of it to be 
 seen. Thin an ould cow will come along wid her nose to 
 the ground, loike a dog on a trail, shniffin', and suddenly 
 she raises up her head and lits out a yell loike an Apache 
 Injun. As soon as she does thot all the cattle that are nigh 
 enough to hear comes a runnin' to beat the divvle, an' 
 yellin' as loud as they can. Thin they all sthand around 
 ashniffin' and bawlin' and pawin' up the ground to beat the 
 band. They don't seem to moind if a cow dies natural, but 
 when wan of thim is killed so its blood touches the ground, 
 it upsets the bunch of thim as soon as they find out about it. 
 There was a tinder-foot that committed suicide three years 
 ago, when he laughed at one of the Erie outfit that was 
 tellin' about a cow funeral. The Erie boys had things 
 pretty much their own way, them days." 
 
 "Suicide?" asked Nell, wonderingly. 
 
 "Well, it figured out that way. He killed hisself by 
 bein' too slow drawin' his gun." 
 
 ' ' TTow much longer do you think the cattle will hold out, 
 Paddy?" she asked anxiously. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 241 
 
 "Oi belave the strongest wans kin hould out six wakes, 
 but the poorest wans can't last over two. Yez say, afther 
 the rains comes it beats down the dry fade that is lift, and 
 there won't be any strength to the new fade for siveral 
 wakes, so thot makes it harder for a whoile afther the rains 
 stharts. Thin's the toime cattle gives up." Paddy paused 
 and smoked reflectively, while Nell rocked slowly, immersed 
 in anxious thoughts. Paddy squinted at her from under 
 his heavy eyebrows, then broke the silence, saying, "Did 
 yez iver say ould man Brandther ? ' ' 
 
 Nell shook her head. 
 
 "WiU," resumed Paddy, "he's the only wan in Arizony 
 I'm not sorry for. He's gittin' it in the nick, now, an' 
 Oi'm dumned glad of it! Oi till yez, he's a genywine 
 hypercrit ! Always says grace at male toimes ; and whin 
 he gits out of bed mornin's he goes on his knaze wid his 
 noight-shirt a rloppin' around his shanks and t'umps his 
 craw and tills the Good Lard what a fine man ould Brand- 
 ther is ! Thin, he goes on the range and swoipes a couple 
 of calves ; and when noight comes, he gits on his knaze agin 
 an t'umps his craw, and t'anks the Good Lard for all the 
 marcies He has besthowecl that day. ' ' 
 
 Despite her heavy heart, Nell's eye twinkled, her mouth 
 twitched and a dimple began to show. The dimple had 
 been hidden away for many days. Paddy saw and ap- 
 proved it. 
 
 "He sthayed to my place wan noight the last toime he 
 come to his ranch, and thot's how I know about his religious 
 belafes of hisself. Afther he had lift, Oi flopped on my 
 knaze and t'anked the Saints and the Good Lard that thar 
 wasn 't but wan real good and holy man in Arizony so long 
 as I was in the cattle raising business. ' ' 
 
 In spite of her anxiety, Nell 's laughter rang through the 
 room, as she pictured the pompous Mr. Brander thumping 
 his ' ' craw. ' ' The man was very wealthy, and only visited 
 his ranch at intervals, but was so rabidly anti-Catholic that 
 he never missed any opportunity to harangue on the topic, 
 
242 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 and lie allowed no Mexicans employed on his ranch, because 
 of their religion. 
 
 "It seems pitiful that we need rains so badly here, while 
 the farmers in the East are complaining of too much," Nell 
 said, unable to avoid the topic that was so vital to them 
 all. 
 
 "Oi'm siventy-foive years ould, Misthress Thraynor, and 
 Oi've found things ginerally works that way. Boy-the- 
 boy, have yez iver been to Nye Yark ? ' ' 
 
 "I was born there and lived there with my parents till 
 they died, then the money went and I worked, Paddy. I 
 had to earn enough for Jamie and myself, you see. There 
 was no one to help us. You get frightened when you 
 know you are only one in the four millions people around 
 you." 
 
 "The nixt toime yez go to Nye Yark," said Paddy, 
 "there's a little restyrant yez want to be afther thryin'. 
 Oi disremember the name of the strate yez sthart from, but 
 ony way, yez go tin strates to the roight, thin thray strates 
 to the lift, and thin yez kape straight on till yez say the 
 place, and there yez are. Yez can't miss it. Yez can git 
 the best male yez iver ate in your loife," he leaned over 
 and dropped his voice more confidentially, "and they only 
 charge tin cints ! ' ' 
 
 In order to hide the twitching corners of her mouth, as 
 she conjured up a vision of turning cannibal and devour- 
 ing "the best male yez iver ate in your loife," Nell moved 
 to the window and stood picking dead leaves from a com- 
 mon geranium growing in a crude window box on the inner 
 ledge formed by the thick adobe walls of the house. 
 
 "It's growing beautifully, Paddy," she said to the old 
 man, "and Jamie and I love to watch it. Only, I hate to 
 have you give it up yourself after you have had it so long. 
 It's a beautiful geranium." 
 
 "Oh, well," Paddy replied carelessly, waving his hand 
 with the pipe, "I was away from the house so much that 
 half the toime I'd fergit to wather it. It's a long ways 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 243 
 
 betther since you took care of it. Only, yez remimber, yez 
 mustn't give it away to anybody ilse. Yez see, it belonged 
 to the ould Dootch woman I married, and she thought a 
 lot of it. Oi wouldn't give it to any wan ilse but you and 
 Jamie. ' ' 
 
 Nell's face was sympathetic. She had heard of the 
 strange wife of old Paddy, who spoke only Holland Dutch, 
 while Paddy spoke not one word of the language ; but they 
 had managed to get along together till she passed away. 
 Paddy had never called her anything except "The ould 
 Dootch woman." 
 
 "It needs water now," Nell spoke after prodding in the 
 earth. I'll get some from the well." 
 
 When she left the room, Paddy laid his beloved pipe 
 aside, then drew his chair near the sleeping boy. As he 
 watched the pale, parted lips, the faint breath, the dark 
 rings under the half-closed eyes, something warm and moist 
 slipped down the old man' cheek and dropped upon his 
 wrinkled, calloused hand. "Lard," he whispered hoarsely, 
 "I can't see why yez let an ould useless bag o' bones like 
 me kape on livin' and take the little lad that iverywan 
 wants and loves. Can't ye swap us?" 
 
 Then Nell returned, and Paddy straightened up. "He 
 never even peeped," he announced, turning to watch her 
 water the plants. There was a peculiar expression on his 
 face as he walked slowly over to where Nell let the water 
 flow gently on the dry soil, then taking a pair of scissors 
 from her work-box she pruned the plants carefully, say- 
 ing, "Jamie usually takes care of them himself, but the 
 last week I have done it for him. He is so easily tired. 
 Did you ever think that life is just like a plant, Paddy? 
 It starts out so bravely, sending its roots deep into the 
 soil, and spreading its tender leaves to the sunshine — 
 Happy, just because it is alive. Then the Gardener comes 
 and prunes the stalks, and the plant does not understand 
 why it is treated so cruelly. Sometimes it seems as though 
 the leaves would never start again, but after a while the 
 
244 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 blossoms are more beautiful than ever, for pruning makes 
 it stronger." She paused, looking down at the plants, then 
 her voice trembled a little, ' ' I am trying so hard, Paddy, to 
 believe that the Gardener knows what is best." 
 
 He knew she was thinking of the child on the couch, and 
 he held out his rough hand ; ' ' Oi giss yez are roight, Misth- 
 ress Thraynor. Things wurrk out in the ind, if we do be 
 doin 7 the bist we know how. Oi've lived among the cattle 
 so long that I don't know anything ilse but cows and cow- 
 talk, but if iver yez nade a frind, jist yez remimber ould 
 Paddy." 
 
PART THREE 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 
 
 GLENDON, just back from one of his numerous 
 trips to town, tossed a letter to his wife without 
 a word. It fell to the floor, but she reached for 
 it quickly, her heart beating fast at the thought it might be 
 a reply from her Aunt Jane. 
 
 There had been no further discussion between herself 
 and her husband about Donnie going away, but she did not 
 know at what hour the ordeal might face her. Even if 
 Aunt Jane declined to advise her in this matter, or aid in 
 any way, Katherine wished that the strained relations be- 
 tween herself and the only one belonging to her by ties of 
 blood, might be more kindly. She had come to understand 
 Aunt Jane's attitude and to acknowledge that the old lady 
 had read Glendon 's character better than the girl who mar- 
 ried him. 
 
 Looking back, Katherine saw all too clearly, that what 
 she had mistaken for love, had been reaction against the 
 dull monotony of her life with Ann and Aunt Jane, and a 
 longing for some outlet for her repressed emotions. This 
 very knowledge made her more staunch in her attitude to 
 Glendon, fearing that her own lack of deep affection made 
 her more alive to his shortcomings. 
 
 Her husband stood watching her, and she knew that 
 whatever might be the contents of that letter, he would de- 
 mand the right to see it. She had no friends who wrote 
 her. If Aunt Jane mentioned receiving any letter, or re- 
 ferred to the appeal, Glendon would at once understand 
 that his wife had written without his knowledge and this 
 very fact would precipitate the catastrophe she had hoped 
 to avert. 
 
 247 
 
248 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 The letter was lying face down between them on the 
 floor. Hiding the nauseating fear, she picked it up and 
 turned it over. The engraved address of a firm of lawyers 
 met her eyes. Her name, the ranch, typed. 
 
 Puzzled, she tore open the long envelope and started to 
 read. Then she looked up at Glendon, her eyes full of 
 tears, her lips trembling, as she said brokenly, "Aunt Jane 
 is dead!" 
 
 "Well, what of it?" he demanded. "Do you expect me 
 to howl with grief? You've not heard from her for years. 
 Can't see that it makes much difference to you whether 
 she's dead or alive. The old cat!" 
 
 Her eyes went back to the pages in her hand. They were 
 typed and lengthy. She read them through, then, without 
 comment handed them to Glendon. 
 
 "It's a legacy/' she said simply. 
 
 He sat down and began perusing the contents of the com- 
 munication, his brows knitting angrily as he grasped the 
 purport. 
 
 Dear Madam: 
 
 Miss Jane Grimes, whose will has been left in our hands, 
 has made you and your son, Donald, beneficiaries subject to 
 certain conditions. 
 
 A sufficient sum to educate your son is set aside, all bills 
 to be rendered to the Trust Company and paid by them. 
 Your desires to be considered in the selection of proper 
 school, but one which must be approved by the Trust Com- 
 pany. 
 
 Twelve hundred dollars annuity to be paid to you after 
 the death of your husband, James W. Glendon. Until de- 
 mise of James W. Glendon, the twelve hundred dollars per 
 annum and accruing interest shall be held by the Trust 
 Company. 
 
 In event of failure to agree to the terms set forth in the 
 will, copy of which is herewith enclosed, the entire estate is 
 to revert to the Prohibition Society of America. Otherwise, 
 the estate will pass to your son on his thirtieth birthday. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 249 
 
 Kindly communicate with us at your earliest convenience, 
 and oblige, Yours very respectfully, 
 
 Goodrich Trust Company. 
 P. S. Letter enclosed from Miss Grimes. 
 
 The other letter read, 
 
 Dear Eatherine; 
 
 You have had time now to realize that my estimate of 
 James Glendon's character was correct. I have been at 
 some pains and expense during the last seven years, since 
 you moved to Arizona, to keep myself informed as to your 
 husband's actions. I feel that I was justified, and it im- 
 pels me to do all I am able to assist you after I am gone, 
 without being of any comfort or benefit to a man whom I 
 despise. 
 
 You are to confer with the Trust Company regarding a 
 school for Donnie. It must be a school where self-respect 
 and honour are taught; in fact, an old-fashioned school 
 where boys are trained in the almost forgotten standards 
 of an old-fashioned gentleman. 
 
 The annuity of twelve hundred dollars a year will be 
 paid you at the death of your husband, for I know your in- 
 flexible principles and that you will never invoke the aid of 
 the law to protect you by a divorce. It is because I, myself, 
 am opposed to the wide-spread evil of divorce, that I am try- 
 ing my best to aid you without aiding your husband 
 financially. I wish to prevent him from benefitting in any 
 way. I am confident that you will sorely need enough to 
 provide a roof and food in event of his death, and should I 
 make any other provisions for you and your child, I do not 
 believe either of you would benefit one cent by my legacy. 
 
 He is the type of man who has no sense of moral obliga- 
 tion, but I want you to understand that you have my 
 sympathy, and that you always had my love. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 Aunt Jane Grimes. 
 
 Glendon finished the two letters, returned them to his 
 wife with a shrug of his shoulders, saying, ' ' Sweet old cat ! 
 
250 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 She certainly had it in for me from the very first day we 
 met!" 
 
 Katherine waited for a violent tirade, but Glendon turned 
 on his heel and left the room. It was a relief to her, but 
 the uncertainty was not dispelled. 
 
 Four days went by, and then Katherine broached the 
 topic. 
 
 "Jim, I've got to answer that letter." 
 
 He was sitting on the porch step smoking, his thoughts 
 evidently far-afield. 
 
 "What letter?" 
 
 "About the legacy and sending Donnie to school," was 
 the woman's reply. She knew that the future of the 
 child depended on the answer she waited from the child's 
 father. Her hands lay in her lap, gripped tensely, her eyes 
 looked pleadingly at the face of the man. 
 
 "Do as you please about it," the words were indifferent. 
 "I haven't any time to waste talking over these things. 
 This drouth will about wind up my remnant of credit in 
 Arizona. It won't make any difference to you, for you're 
 heeled for life, if I am out of the way." 
 
 She tried to tell him her appreciation, "Jim! I will 
 stand by you, no matter what comes! "With Donnie 's ed- 
 ucation provided for, we can surely win out together!" 
 she moved impulsively to his side, laid her hand on his 
 shoulder and stooped over to kiss him, but Glendon 's shoul- 
 der jerked away roughly, as he answered, "Oh, for God's 
 sake, Katherine, stop your melodramatics and let me 
 alone!" 
 
 Despite the rebuff, her heart was singing with joy as she 
 hurried to write the Trust Company, and stated that she 
 could have Donnie ready to start East in two weeks; but 
 that she had not the money, nor could she come with him 
 on that account. The drouth in Arizona had stagnated all 
 cattle business temporarily. 
 
 Katherine explained to the child that his going away was 
 with her full consent, and that it did not mean he was to 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 251 
 
 stay away, except during the school term. They could be 
 together for the summer vacations. She also told him of 
 the strange old aunt who had cared for her own educa- 
 tion, and who, though dead, now made it possible for him 
 to go to a good school, such as his father could not afford. 
 She made him understand, too, that his father had given 
 consent, and without such consent, no one could have done 
 anything. 
 
 The reply from the Trust Company informed her that 
 one of the members of the firm would meet the child at 
 Willcox on a date specified. That business matters had 
 made a trip to California imperative, and the return trip 
 would be arranged via Willcox, if the child were there at 
 the time. 
 
 Katherine timidly told this to her husband, but met with 
 no opposition. His acquiescence surprised and touched 
 her. She ascribed it to his desire to make amends, and her 
 gratitude was pathetic. Yet, knowing his vacillating char- 
 acter, she hastened to perfect arrangements. Not until she 
 saw the child in charge of the man who met them at Will- 
 cox, and accompanied them to the depot platform, did she 
 feel safe. She clasped the boy in a last, close embrace 
 and watched him wave from the window of the train. The 
 " stone wall had toppled over/' and the hideous fear of los- 
 ing her boy completely was laid to rest. 
 
 Aunt Jane had not answered her letter but now Katherine 
 knew that the old lady had understood the situation and 
 set her wits to work to aid the niece she really loved. 
 
 Before the train pulled out Doctor Powell crossed the 
 street, and stood talking with Donnie, thus helping both 
 in their battle to be brave. Then, Katherine and Powell 
 stood side by side, watching the train pull away until it 
 disappeared in the gap between the Graham and Dos Cab- 
 ezas ranges. But, long before the crags intervened, it had 
 vanished from the mother's eyes in a blur of tears. 
 
 "Tell me," Powell spoke, "Is Donnie going to his grand- 
 father?" He was thinking of the paper that reposed 
 
252 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 in the hands of his lawyers, and wondered if Glendon had 
 dared defy him. 
 
 "No," Katherine smiled happily, "Jim gave up that in- 
 tention some time ago. It was a legacy from an aunt of 
 mine, which provides for Donnie's education. So, you see, 
 you were right. The stone wall has toppled over!" 
 
 Powell's hand gripped hers, "I'm glad for your sake and 
 for Donnie's!" 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 
 
 ANOTHER month passed and the drouth was still 
 unbroken. Stores were threatened with bank- 
 ruptcy and cattlemen saw vast herds, accumulated 
 through years of hard toil, dwindle to one-fourth the or- 
 iginal number, and faced the possibility of losing that also. 
 
 The Arizona ranges for years had been badly over- 
 stocked ; but each rancher waited for his neighbour to get 
 rid of the surplus cattle, hoping thereby to benefit his own 
 herd. Over-crowding ranges resulted in the tramping out 
 of the roots, and what was more serious, grass was cropped 
 so closely that there was no opportunity for seed to ma- 
 ture and fall to the ground and germinate for another year. 
 In former times a drouth would not have been so disastrous 
 as under the existing conditions of the ranges. 
 
 Having done all in his power to mitigate the situation, 
 Traynor fought a despondency that was entirely foreign to 
 his nature. It was augmented by his desire to conceal the 
 facts from his wife, and to this was added his knowledge 
 that Jamie was continually growing weaker. He had called 
 the men into the office and told them frankly that he would 
 not be able to keep them much longer, as he was straining 
 every financial possibility. 
 
 The result of that conference was a surprise that un- 
 manned him. Limber, Bronco, Holy and Roarer declined 
 to be "fired," stating they would work for "chuck" until 
 the drouth was over, and when he remonstrated, the four of 
 them stalked out of the room, as Limber remarked, "We've 
 got business to attend to outside — instead of talking fool- 
 ishness inside." 
 
 "If I could manage to get a few thousands," said Tray- 
 
 253 
 
254 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 nor to Nell as they left the breakfast table one morning, 
 "I would not hesitate to round up all the weakest cattle and 
 ship at once to Colorado, leaving the stronger ones take 
 their chances here on the range. However, I might as well 
 wish for rain ; that would be less improbable than obtaining 
 the money. The most aggravating thing is knowing that I 
 could save the greater part of the herd if I could only 
 ship them. Native grass is plentiful and pasturage cheap 
 in Colorado this year; once I had the cattle there I could 
 easily raise money at one of the Colorado banks on the 
 stock, and so relieve the tension here as well as there. If 
 I pull through this year, I will keep money in readiness for 
 such an emergency, hereafter. It 's been a good lesson ; but 
 a mighty expensive one." 
 
 As he walked slowly to the barn, he passed Paddy with 
 a large parcel coming into the courtyard. 
 
 "Oi've got somethings for the bye and the misthress," 
 he explained, and Traynor told him they were in the living- 
 room. 
 
 "Hello, ould Sphort!" Paddy said to the boy, who was 
 standing by his sister, watching her water the geraniums. 
 
 "There's a new bunch of buds Paddy;" the child an- 
 nounced and Paddy examined the plants critically. 
 
 "Yez can't giss what Oi brought wid me for yez;" he 
 said. "A babby deer. Oi caught it at Mud Springs an' 
 brung it in fer yez. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Oh, Paddy ! ' ' Jamie 's face glowed with delight. ' ' How 
 did you catch it? Where is it?" 
 
 "From the looks of it, its mother has been dead for a 
 couple of days. Giss the coyotes or a lion got her, and the 
 little fellow was mighty wake, and was willin' to make 
 friends. Oi carried him twelve moiles in me arrums on 
 the ould grey horse. He's out in the stables now, and the 
 byes says for yez to come out and get introjuiced to him. 
 They're goin' to give him milk from a bottle till it gits big 
 enough to ate ither things. ' ' 
 
 The child's eyes were bright with excitement as he made 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 255 
 
 Iris way to the barn, where Bronco and the other boys sur- 
 rounded a small fawn. Holy was holding a bottle of milk 
 to its mouth, while Bronco stroked the throat to help it 
 swallow, for the fawn was very weak. "Gee! he was 
 hungry!" said Holy to Jamie. "We have to learn him to 
 take the milk this way, and when he gets a little stronger 
 he can take it from a pan. Isn't he pretty? He is such a 
 dark brown on the back, and just look how plain his spots 
 is. Funny they lose 'em when they're yearlings!" 
 
 "What you goin' to name it, Kid?" asked Bronco. 
 
 "Patsy," replied Jamie promptly, as he knelt and stroked 
 the soft fur with his thin hand. The fawn turned its head 
 and licked his hand, then gazed at the child with its beau- 
 tiful eyes. The thin arms went about the fawn's neck 
 gently. 
 
 "He knows you won't hurt him, Kid;" spoke Holy, then 
 turned away quickly, swearing to himself. "They're both 
 about all in, an' nobody can't do nothin'." 
 
 After Jamie left the room, Paddy untied the string that 
 held a flour-sack in an unsightly bundle. He tiptoed over 
 to the table and laid the parcel beside Mrs. Traynor 's work- 
 basket. 
 
 "Oi just got this from the stage dhriver, Yez mabbe 
 afther hearin' Oi niver knowed how to rade an' write, 
 Misthress Thraynor?" 
 
 She nodded her head, and Paddy, finding the string ob- 
 durate, produced a gigantic pocket-knife, such as is used 
 by cattlemen in ear-marking calves. 
 
 "Will, Oi hed an agrayment wid ould man Sullivan that 
 he was to rade the poipers fer me, an' would yez belave it, 
 the dummed ould skoonk was afther thryin' to make me 
 pay him for radin' thim. He says, says he, 'Oi've been to 
 the throuble of radin' thim for wan year, an' be jabers, Oi 
 desarve cumpinsation. ' An Oi says to him, says Oi, 'Ahl 
 roight, Sullivan. Phwat's the damidge?' 'Foive dollars,' 
 says he as bould as brass. 'Ahl roight,' says Oi. 'Oi'll 
 pay yez foive dollars fer radin' thim poipers, Misther Sul- 
 
256 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 livan, and yez are goin' to pay me tin dollars for the use 
 of thim.' lie jumped up and roared at me, "Thim poipers 
 only cost foive dollars for wan year.' 'Thrue for yez,' 
 says Oi; 'and yez nadent git hot in the collar about it, at 
 all, at all. Oi'm only charging yez fer takin' up my toime 
 whilst Oi was waitin' fer yez to spill out the big wurrds !' ' 
 Paddy smiled grimly as he crowded some fresh tobacco 
 into his pipe, and after taking a few preliminary puffs, he 
 continued. "Will, Sullivan niver collected thot foive dol- 
 lars. Oi thought Oi would be afthar bringin' thim poipers 
 here, so you can rade thim and till me the news forinst Oi 
 come again." 
 
 As he spoke, he shook the sack, and a solitary paper fell 
 on the table — The Tombstone Epitaph — which was pub- 
 lished weekly at the County seat. It consisted of one page 
 of local gossip, two pages of pictured cattle, bearing various 
 hieroglyphics, which to the initiated represented brands 
 and ear-marks, while the fourth page was filled with ad- 
 vertising matter of the local stores. A similar paper was 
 published weekly at Willcox. "Oi loike the Epitaph and 
 the Willcox poiper," explained Paddy with twinkling 
 eyes, "beeaze Oi can look at the cows and tell which ind of 
 the poiper goes bottom side up. Here's a book the stage 
 dhriver got fer me. He says it's foine; and yez can rade 
 it to yourself, then tell me about it, sometoime. It 's called 
 'The Revinge of Bloody Dick.' " 
 
 A final shake of the sack and "Bloody Dick" appeared, 
 followed by several magazines of fashions, and a couple of 
 home periodicals, containing carefully censored stories for 
 women and children, which huddled together limply like 
 shocked old maids surprised in questionable company. 
 
 Nell struggled with a hysterical desire to laugh, as she 
 glanced from the strangely garbed figure of the old man to 
 the conventional fashion-plates ; but, appreciating the rough 
 chivalry that had inspired the act, a lump grew in her 
 throat, and dropping her head on the table the sobs came 
 unchecked. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 25T 
 
 Paddy moved to her side and stroked her hair gently, 
 speaking as though to an injured child. 
 
 "Shure, Oi didn't mane to make yez fale bad, at all, at 
 all, little gurrl. Oi thuoght if yez was radin' yez wouldn't 
 be worritin' so much about the cattle." 
 
 "It is Jamie, too," she sobbed. "I know he is growing 
 weaker; but Allan does not know it, yet. I've been keep- 
 ing it from him, for he has so much worry now. If he 
 could ship the cattle to Colorado and save them, he said he 
 could get money there to carry us through." 
 
 Paddy listened thoughtfully. "He's roight about that," 
 said the old man. "It would save the wakest wans, and 
 lave more fade for the sthrong wans. Don't be afther 
 sayin' anythin' to the Boss, Misthress Thraynor, but yez 
 know Oi have some money put away handy, and if the Boss 
 wants to borry it to hilp ship his cattle, Oi'll lind it to 
 him. Oi 've got the money from the sale of the PL Ranch, 
 and there's a few more dollars ilsewhere that I can get 
 widout trouble. The Diamond II is good property whin 
 the drouth is done, and Oi'm not afraid of losin' the prin- 
 cipal wid the Boss. Oi niver thrust any banks becoz they 
 moight go boosted any toime." Paddy crammed fresh to- 
 bacco in his pipe. "Oi kin let the Boss have twenty-foive 
 thousand dollars in gold if he wants it. Now moind, don't 
 yez till him onything, but lit me fix it up my own way wid 
 him. Oi'm goin' to Willcox airly in the marnin', Misth- 
 ress Thraynor, an' whin Oi come back Oi'll talk wid the 
 Boss, and foind out whin he wants the money ready." 
 
 Nell started up, but Paddy waved her back. "Don't yez 
 begin a thankin' me," he commanded fiercely, "or ilse Oi 
 won't lit him have a dummed cent! It's jist a matter of 
 business, an' Oi'll charge him intherest, all roight. Oi 
 moight as well be makin' intherest on my money as to be 
 lavin ' it buried in the ground. ' ' 
 
 He held out a grimy, calloused hand, saying, "Good 
 noight, Misthree Thraynor. Git a good noight's slape and 
 don't worrit ony more. Oi'll say that the Boss has what 
 
258 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 money he nades, and a little over, so that you and the bye 
 can go to Californy for a while, until this dry spell is over. 
 Thin whin the rains comes, the little chap will be afther 
 eomin' back with chakes as rid as thim posies;" and he 
 disappeared through the door, leaving Nell feeling he had 
 carried her troubles with him. 
 
 A couple of hours after sunrise the next morning, Paddy 
 riding leisurely along the roacl from the Diamond H to 
 Will cox, encountered Limber a few miles out of town. 
 Limber had ridden from the Plot Springs. 
 
 After the usual salutation, Paddy reined his grey, gaunt 
 horse close to Peanut's side, leaned over, held his hand 
 •cupped about his mouth and with a glance at the miles of 
 prairie that sheltered no eavesdropper, the old Irishman 
 whispered, "Say, Limber, thar's somewan sleeperin'. 
 Warkin' on the PL and Diamond II. Oi tould the Boss 
 and he's goin' to warn the byes to look out. Oi mebbe 
 misthaken, but Oi've got an idee that Glendon's at the bot- 
 tom of it. 'Twon't hurt to kape an oye on him over at the 
 Springs. Goin' back soon?" 
 
 "I have some thing to attend to for the doctor. He's 
 up to Tucson this week, "Limber answered as they unsad- 
 dled their ponies at the Kest. "I'm goin' to the Diamond 
 H tonight, after sundown. It'll be cooler then and give 
 Peanut a good rest." 
 
 " Oi '11 see yez before yez start. ' ' Paddy had reached the 
 gate $ut* turned back, ' ' Say, Limber, Oi want yez to pick 
 out a noice little collar. I found a fawn and packed it in 
 for the bye, so long as you're goin' to the Diamond H, 
 yez can take it along. I 've got to go to the San Pethro for 
 a few days." 
 
 He held out a twenty-dollar gold piece, which Limber 
 slipped into his pocket. 
 
 * * Say, Paddy, if I was you I 'd put my dinero in a bank. 
 You take lots of chances," remonstrated Limber seriously. 
 "Someday you'll go to your cache and find your money's 
 been dug up." 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 259 
 
 "They'll have a dummed hard toime a foindin' it," re- 
 torted Paddy cunningly, "and a dummed harder toime 
 gettin' away wid it, for Oi kape a close watch on it. Oi'm 
 figgerin' on makin' a loan to the Boss, so's to help him ship 
 cattle. Oi got thirty-five thousand dollars put away. Oi 
 ain't no Roekyfeller, but Oi've got enough for salt pork 
 and frijoles for the nixt tin years, an' Oi don't belave 
 Oi'll be in urgent nade of thim afther that toime. If the 
 Good Lard thinks Oi'll pass the Inspection Chute, Oi'll 
 be fading on milk an' honey widout payin' fer it. Oi'm 
 siventy-six, come my nixt birthday." 
 
 "Well, your money will be safer if the Boss has it," 
 Limber finished the conversation as he turned into the 
 store, while Paddy walked up the street, stopping to speak to 
 people he knew. Every one liked the old fellow, who was 
 noted for his sobriety and honesty as much for his peculiari- 
 ties. He was passing the swinging door of a saloon which 
 had none too savory a reputation, when Alpaugh, the Con- 
 stable of Will cox, who was also the Deputy Sheriff of Coch- 
 ise County, called to him. 
 
 ' ' Hello, Paddy ! Come in and have a drink, ' ' he invited 
 cordially slapping the old man's shoulder. 
 
 "Ahl roight, Dick," was the reply, "Oi'm goin' to git 
 somethin' to ate, and it will be an appytizer. I rid from 
 the Diamond H this marnin', but it was too airly for break- 
 fast whin I started out. ' ' 
 
 The bar-tender mixed the concoctions ordered and set 
 two glasses on the bar, then saying, "I'll be back in a min- 
 ute," he left the room in response to a call, leaving Paddy 
 and Alpaugh alone, except for a man sprawled across a table 
 at the end of the room. 
 
 Paddy looked at the man. "That Glendon is always 
 dhrunk," he remarked in disgust. "Pity his woife don't 
 loight out and lave him." He moved nearer, "Say, Dick," 
 he whispered, though his voice carried distinctly, "Oi think 
 yez had betther kape an oye on Thray-fingered Jack, Glen- 
 don, Bentz and Burks. Oi run into them last wake nigh 
 
260 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Glendon 's place, and they was squattin' on the ground 
 drawin' loines. They didn't say me, but they was talkin' 
 about the Express car to the Jumpin' Erog Moines. Oi 
 don't loike the looks of it." 
 
 Alpaugh glanced at him sharply. "Much obliged, 
 Paddy;" he replied. "Did you speak of it to any one 
 else?" 
 
 "Nary a sould," responded Paddy. 
 
 "Don't tell any one else," cautioned Alpaugh. 
 
 "Ahl roight, Dick;" answered Paddy, lifting the glass 
 to his lips. "Here's lookin' at yez." 
 
 A shot pinged through the air, and the glass fell from 
 Paddy's fingers as he tumbled in a grotesque heap on the 
 floor. Glendon, holding the still smoking pistol, sprang 
 to Paddy's side and emptied four more cartridges into the 
 motionless figure. 
 
 Alpaugh stooped quickly, breaking the buckskin thong 
 around the trigger of Paddy's pistol, and threw the gun 
 beside the dead man. 
 
 "He didn't know you and Bentz saw him out there. 
 Stick to self-defence," said Alpaugh. "Dead men tell no 
 tales, and the damn fool knew too much." 
 
 A crowd of excited men filled the place when Limber 
 came running in. "Who done it?" he demanded, looking 
 around. 
 
 "I did," replied Glendon, facing him; and Limber 
 stepped back as though menaced with a blow. 
 
 "You—" 
 
 ' ' Yes ! Alpaugh was drinking with Paddy when he turned 
 on me without any warning, and I shot in self-defence. 
 The old man's been nutty for some time, and had it in for 
 me ever since we had trouble at the corral over that cow. 
 If you don't believe me, you can ask Alpaugh. He saw it 
 all." 
 
 Alpaugh looked at the faces of the crowd, and knew he 
 must keep his head level, for Glendon was not popular, and 
 Paddy had many friends. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 261 
 
 "I saw Paddy going past, and asked him in to have a 
 drink with me," said the constable with apparent frank- 
 ness. "Otto mixed the drinks and went back to the end 
 of the room, and Paddy was talking to me. Glendon was 
 at the other end of the room, but got up and started to 
 walk over to us, and I was going to ask him to have some- 
 thing with us, when Paddy saw him and reached for his 
 gun. Glendon had to shoot quick or be shot himself. The 
 trigger of Paddy's gun caught in the buckskin loop of his 
 holster, or else he'd got Glendon first. That's all there is 
 about it. Paddy's been itchy against Glendon for some 
 time. Every one knows that." 
 
 He turned to Glendon, " I 've got to arrest you, Jim, until 
 after the inquest." 
 
 * ' That 's all right, ' ' answered Glendon, then he saw Lim- 
 ber scrutinizing him sharply. "Say, Limber, will you tell 
 my wife? She's expecting me home tonight." 
 
 Limber's eyes were riveted on Glendon, as though trying 
 to read the man's thoughts. "Yes," he replied curtly, 
 turning on his heel and walking out the room without an- 
 other word. 
 
 "There's something crooked in back of it," he muttered 
 to himself, as he reached the Cowboys' Rest and picked up 
 his saddle. Then he remembered Paddy's promised as- 
 sistance for Traynor. "No one knows where Paddy hid 
 his money, and that settles the Boss," he stopped to pet the 
 nose of Paddy's gaunt, old, flea-bitten grey horse, which 
 had been a joke with every one, then Limber flung his sad- 
 dle on Peanut and mounted. "Sometimes it looks like it 
 don't pay to be square, Peanut," he said as the little pinto 
 pony headed for the road leading to the Circle Cross Ranch. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 
 
 KATHERINE sat on the porch of her home, watch- 
 ing the road that led to town. It was long after 
 six o'clock and Glendon had promised faithfully 
 he would return early in the afternoon. The Circle Cross 
 herd which had not been large enough to pay its owner's 
 debts under the most favourable circumstances, had 
 dwindled through the drouth until Glendon refused to try 
 to save what was left. Juan rode out alone each day, doing 
 the best he was able, while Glendon puttered about the 
 house and corral, or stretched in a half-drunken stupor on 
 the couch in the tiny living-room. Katherine was spared 
 the knowledge that Alpaugh held a note worth more than 
 the remnant of their cattle and that the money had been 
 used by Glendon to pay several gambling debts, as well as 
 to keep Panchita in a good humour. 
 
 Her meditations were interrupted as Tatters came to the 
 porch steps and thrust his moist nose into her hand. 
 
 "What do you think is wrong this time, Tatters?" she 
 asked, looking down at the dog's intelligent eyes. Since 
 Donnie had left, the woman and dog had been drawn to- 
 gether by their mutual longing for the boy, and Katherine 
 had fallen unconsciously into the habit of talking to the 
 collie. 
 
 She slipped an arm about the shaggy neck, and silently 
 watched the twilight deepen into darkness. Juan hovered 
 anxiously in the doorway, and tried to persuade her to eat 
 supper; but she put him off, saying she would come soon. 
 A foreboding clutched her; she had no desire for food. 
 Shaking his head dolefully, the Mexican retreated to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 262 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 263 
 
 Suddenly the dog stiffened, sniffed the air and gave a low 
 growl. Then he sprang from the steps and ran to the gate, 
 where he squatted down, and stared sharply at the road. 
 
 Katherine heard the faint sounds of hoof beats, and con- 
 fident that it was her husband returning, she hastened to 
 see if the belated supper was beyond hope. 
 
 There was a knock at the door. Surprised, she turned 
 to open it, when she heard a man's voice speaking. 
 
 "Don't be frightened, Mrs. Glendon. It's only Limber, 
 I brung a message for you from Glendon." 
 
 He entered the room, and blinked in the lamplight, but 
 Katherine, seeing the expression on his face, was not de- 
 ceived. 
 
 "What's the matter?" she asked quickly. 
 
 Limber hesitated, cleared his throat and wondered how 
 it would be best to tell his message. All the way he had 
 been puzzling what to say. If it had been a man, or any 
 other woman, it would have been easier; but the cow- 
 puncher shrank from adding to the troubles of the woman. 
 It was like striking her. 
 
 "Why — it's — just — don't be frightened, Mrs. Glendon," 
 floundered Limber, and cursed himself for making matters 
 worse. "It's not so serious — " 
 
 She clutched the back of a chair; her face was white, 
 but her voice steady. ' ' Tell me, just as you would another 
 man, Limber. I won't break down. Is he dead?" 
 
 "Not a bit of it," replied Limber in relieved tones. 
 "He's all right — well as I am. But thar's been trouble in 
 town and Glen shot Paddy Lafferty. Dick Alpaugh seen 
 it and says it was self-defence. So Glen will be acquitted 
 all right ; but he's under arrest till the inquest. He wanted 
 me to come and tell you." 
 
 Limber repeated the meager details, avoiding her eyes as 
 much as possible, and watching Tatters, whose head he was 
 stroking as he talked. The silence became oppressive after 
 he ceased speaking, and Limber lifted his eyes. 
 
 Katherine, apparently forgetful of his presence, sat 
 
264 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 staring at the wall, her hands twitching nervously at her 
 kitchen apron. Her face was deathly white. Limber 
 wished she would cry, though he dreaded a woman's tears. 
 
 " Don't take it so hard, Mrs. Glendon. It's just a matter 
 of form, him bein' held. Glendon will be home tomorrow 
 night." 
 
 "Did you see him kill Paddy?" her eyes searched 
 Limber's, forcing the reluctant truth from his lips and 
 telling him plainly that she doubted the story as he had 
 told it. 
 
 "No, Mrs. Glendon. I got thar afterwards. I heard 
 Alpaugh say what happened. He was there. Then Glen- 
 don ast me to come and tell you. That's all I know." 
 
 She rose. "Thank you, Limber. I understand. It was 
 good of you to come the thirty-five miles. After you have 
 supper I will be ready to go back with you, if your pony 
 can stand the trip. Fox is the only horse I have here, Jim 
 took the team to town." 
 
 "Peanut is good for the trip," asserted Limber," but 
 it is a mean ride at night till we strike the flats. Mebbe 
 you'd better wait till mornin' if you think you'd oughter 
 
 go." 
 
 "I must go tonight;" she replied and Limber made no 
 further protest. He knew the tension under which she 
 laboured. 
 
 Juan insisted that she make an effort to eat, while Limber 
 swallowed a cup of coffee, then necessary articles in a 
 small bundle were tied to her saddle as Fox and Peanut 
 rubbed friendly noses. 
 
 The old Mexican's heart was heavy as he watched them 
 ride away, and the dog's ears drooped dejectedly. Out on 
 the long night ride the ponies swung into a steady lope. 
 The soft breeze fanned the cheeks of the riders like a cool 
 spray. A young moon slipped coyly over the horizon. 
 The air was heavy with the perfume of Yucca that even 
 the drouth could not kill, while faint and sweet came th* 
 lilt of a mocking-bird. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 265 
 
 Katherine could not make herself believe that out of the 
 beauty and peace of the night she would find the man she 
 had sworn to 'love, honour and obey' with human blood on 
 his hands — the murderer of an old, defenceless man who 
 had done many an act of kindness for her and her boy. 
 
 Once she turned and spoke. "Where is he?" 
 
 ' ' In the hotel ; ' ' answered Limber. ' ' Alpaagh has charge 
 of him till the inquest is over." 
 
 They rode again in silence, each absorbed in thought 
 until, after weary hours, the lights of the town grew visible. 
 At last the ponies stopped in front of the Willcox Hotel. 
 A few men loitering about, stared curiously as Limber 
 helped Katherine from her saddle. It was after two in the 
 morning. The by-standers who recognized Mrs. Glendon, 
 lifted their hats respectfully. One of them spoke her name. 
 She turned her dull eyes on him. Her lips moved but there 
 was no sound. The man understood, and choked an oath. 
 
 Limber untied the bundle from her saddle, and she 
 followed him stiffly into the hotel, shrinking in the narrow, 
 dimly lighted hallway while the cowboy made arrangements 
 with the sleepy nightman. 
 
 "Ill take you up to the room," said Limber. She 
 nodded silently. 
 
 On the second floor the cowboy paused at the door and 
 knocked. 
 
 "Some in!" called Glendon 's voice. 
 
 Limber smiled reassuringly to Katherine ; then he turned 
 and left her. She stood biting her lips, trying to control 
 her emotion, and holding the doorknob in a nerveless hand 
 that was trembling with exhaustion. 
 
 "What the blazes is the matter? Come in, I say!" 
 
 The door was jerked open violently and Glendon stood 
 staring at his wife. An oath rose to his lips. 
 
 "What brought you here?" he demanded roughly. 
 
 She passed into the room, turned and held out her hands 
 to him, saying simply, "Where else should I be, Jim, when 
 you are in trouble ? I thought you wanted me to come. ' 
 
266 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ' 'Well, I didn't. I might have known you'd not be able 
 to resist an opportunity to twit and remind me how you've 
 begged me to stay away from town, and all that rot! I 
 only asked Limber to go and tell you what had happened, 
 and as usual, you go to extremes and come hiking in here 
 in the middle of the night. You're making a mountain 
 out of a mole hill. I 'd been home by this evening. There 
 was not the least excuse for your coming here. ' ' 
 
 Obeying an impulse, she moved near and laid her hand 
 on his shoulder. He shook it off roughly and started from 
 the chair into which he had slumped. 
 
 "For God's sake, Katherine, cut out that rot! I'm sick 
 of your saintly pose, and I don't want any preaching or 
 praying. I had to shoot Lafferty or be shot myself." 
 
 "Was it self-defence, Jim?" 
 
 He noted the undercurrent of doubt and ripped out an 
 oath. 
 
 "I told you once, and I'm not going to keep jabbering 
 about it the rest of the night. You go to the inquest and 
 hear Alpaugh's testimony, as long as you don't believe me." 
 
 He strode across the room to the table and poured out 
 a generous glass of raw whiskey, which he followed by a 
 second, then a third, and at last threw himself on the bed. 
 In a few minutes the room was heavy with the fumes of 
 liquor and noisy with snores of the drunken sleeper. 
 
 Softly Katherine lifted the little window, and let the 
 clean pure air blow across her face. Somewhere a clock 
 struck three. The woman, sitting in the darkness, stared 
 with dry aching eyes, thinking of the past, wondering 
 what the future held. It was like looking into a chasm. 
 
 When grey dawn, like a feeble, sick thing, crept through 
 the window, Glendon woke refreshed and buoyant; but 
 his wife was haggered and worn, with great dark rings 
 under her eyes. Her husband looked at her critically, con- 
 trasting her with the flamboyant attractions of Panchita. 
 
 "Can't you fix yourself up a bit?" he demanded in 
 aggrieved tones. "You're losing your good looks com- 
 
THE LONG DIM IRAIL 267 
 
 pletely. Anyone would take you for twice your age. Lot 
 of good you do me, coming here with your glum face ! ' ' 
 
 She made no reply, which added to the anger he vented 
 by kicking a chair out of his way. Glendon's hand shook 
 as he poured out a drink of liquor to steady his nerves, 
 while Katherine opened the parcel she had brought with 
 her, laying out his razor, a clean shirt and collar. His 
 clothes were creased and rumpled, as he had slept all night 
 in them. Then she picked up a small pitcher and went in 
 search of hot water. She finally obtained it from the 
 Chinese cook in the kitchen, for the hotel bragged no bell- 
 boys or bells. 
 
 The inquisitive glance of the Chinaman and a Mexican 
 whom she passed at the kitchen door, brought to her the 
 full realization of the ordeal she was facing. If she could 
 only believe that her husband had acted in self-defence, 
 she would stand unshaken beside him, defying the entire 
 world; but she could not make herself credit his story. 
 Always when he had tried to deceive her, some subtle 
 instinct betrayed him to her. Through the night she had 
 reiterated again and again, "It was self-defence," but 
 louder and louder a chorus of voices kept whispering in 
 her ears, ' ' He is lying ! It was murder ! ' ' 
 
 She seized the pitcher of water from the Chinaman's 
 hand and hurried up stairs to her room. Glendon accepted 
 her services as a matter of course, proffering no word of 
 thanks. 
 
 Half an hour later Alpaugh knocked, and the three went 
 to the hotel dining-room for breakfast. Glendon's appe- 
 tite was excellent. Alpaugh and he talked casually, occa- 
 sionally interjecting a joke; but the food choked Glendon's 
 wife, and with a feeling of relief she rose and returned 
 to the bedroom followed by her husband. Alpaugh, as a 
 matter of form, hovered at the entrance of the hotel. 
 
 "The inquest is at nine," said Glendon as they entered 
 their room. "It's half-past eight now," he consulted his 
 watch. 
 
268 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "Jim," she hesitated, "I think I will stay here in the 
 room. I'm not feeling quite well this morning." 
 
 He looked at her and a sullen rage consumed him. He 
 realized that she was not deceived by his story. 
 
 "Going to shirk it, eh?" he asked sneeringly, "Well, 
 you will have to come, that's all there is to it. Look fine 
 for me when everyone knows you rode here last night and 
 then hid away just at the time when you, or any decent 
 wife, should stand by a man. That would be enough to 
 condemn any one in my fix. ' ' 
 
 It was not that he desired her company; but he was 
 aware that her presence would have its influence, in case 
 anything should upset Alpaugh's testimony. The bar- 
 tender might have seen more then they thought; besides 
 there was no telling what unexpected snag might be struck 
 during the inquest. Paddy had many staunch friends. 
 
 As these thoughts beset him, Glendon looked at his wife. 
 ' ' Well, are you going to stand by me, or not ? ' ' 
 
 Her reply was to pick up her hat which she adjusted. 
 As he opened the door, she said imploringly, "It was self- 
 defence, wasn't it, Jim?" 
 
 "Good God, Katherine, you will drive me mad! I 
 said it once. Now you can listen to Alpaugh and make up 
 your mind about it as you please. Stop nagging me." 
 
 Without further conversation, husband and wife accom- 
 panied Alpaugh to the little office of the Justice of Peace, 
 where the inquest was to be held. A group of men at the 
 entrance, glanced peculiarly at Glendon; then their ex- 
 pressions changed as they saw the woman at his side. 
 Glendon was quick to notice this and congratulated him- 
 self that Katherine was with him. With assumed solici- 
 tude he led her to a chair and stood silently beside her, 
 his eyes on her bowed head, until the proceedings began. 
 
 The inquest fully exonerated Glendon, as the bar-tender 
 had not seen what occurred and Alpaugh was the only actual 
 witness. The broken buckskin thong was admitted as proof 
 that Paddy had drawn his gun, thus making it impossible 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 269 
 
 for any jury to bring in a verdict against Glendon. There 
 were many witnesses to the quarrel at the shipping-corral, 
 when Paddy had refused to shake hands with Glendon after 
 the latter had apologized to him ; and as no one had heard 
 Glendon utter any threats against Paddy, there was ap- 
 parently no motive except that of self-defence. On the 
 other hand, the old Irishman had often expressed his dis- 
 like for Glendon. 
 
 As soon as the verdict was rendered, Glendon was sur- 
 rounded and congratulated by Bentz, Three-fingered Jack, 
 Burks and Alpaugh. With smiles and light words he 
 shook their hands; but other men exchanged glances and 
 left the room, talking in subdued voices. 
 
 Katherine saw the doubt in many faces, and shrank 
 at the reflection of the fear in her own heart. Glendon 's 
 callous indifference, his careless air, revealed her husband 
 in a new and hideous light. 
 
 With trembling limbs she made her way to his side, 
 placing her hand on his arm. He looked down in surprise, 
 and an expression of annoyance crossed his face. He had 
 completely forgotten his wife's presence and had been 
 about to suggest to the crowd that drinks were in order 
 at the most convenient place. 
 
 She realized it all, and wished that she had remained at 
 the ranch. "Jim — I don't feel very well. Will you take 
 me to the hotel?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, but remembering others were 
 watching, answered, "Yes." Husband and wife moved 
 side by side toward the door. 
 
 "See you later, Glen," said Three-fingered Jack, and 
 Alpaugh added: "You're not going out today, are you?" 
 
 Katherine looked up. Glendon, with a sudden sense of 
 shame, replied; "I'll go back with my wife this afternoon 
 when it gets cooler, but I'll see you both before I leave 
 town." 
 
 Her eyes were grateful. Glendon, conscious of a halo 
 of self-importance and good intentions, walked down the 
 
270 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 street, speaking to passers-by, though many of them re- 
 sponded only in deference to the woman at his side. 
 
 As they passed along the street, several men standing in 
 front of the post office, watched them disappear into the 
 hotel. 
 
 "Glen's turned over a new leaf," observed one of them. 
 
 " 'Twon't last very long. New leaves are awful tender. 
 They get torn mighty quick," laughed another. 
 
 "It'd been all-fired excitin' if Panchita had been in 
 town. There 'd been fur flyin', and I bet Glendon would 
 have vamoosed and let 'em fight it out to a finish. You can 
 get a rise outen Panchita any time you speak about Mrs. 
 Glendon." 
 
 "If it ever comes to a show down between 'em I bet on 
 the Mexican girl for a winner. She's got the inside track 
 sure. Glen's wife is too high-headed to win the race." 
 
 None of them noticed Limber pausing close by as he 
 heard Mrs. Glendon 's name. The cowboy's eyes glinted, 
 his lips were compressed and his hands clenched. 
 
 "I ain't so sure about Mrs. Glendon losing the race," 
 retorted the first speaker. "I noticed that Glen quit 
 prancing mighty quick when his wife slipped the halter 
 over his head and led him off to the home pasture!" 
 
 The burst of laughter that greeted this witticism was 
 hushed suddenly, as Limber broke through the group and 
 faced them with blazing eyes. 
 
 "You are a fine bunch of things to call yourselves men! 
 You fellers ain't fit to wipe the dust off'n Mrs. Glendon 's 
 shoes, let alone takin' her name on your dirty tongues. 
 The feller what makes any more remarks about her has 
 got me to fight just as soon as I hear his name. If there's 
 any one here that don't like what I say, he knows what he 
 kin do" 
 
 Limber waited a reply, but the thoroughly abashed men 
 were silent, and the cowboy stalked away. 
 
 When he was well out of hearing, one of the men, a recent 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 271 
 
 arrival in Arizona, uttered an oath, "I ain't goin' to stand 
 for that sass from nobody/' he blustered. 
 
 Another man grabbed his arm. "Look here! You ain't 
 been very long in this section and you won't be here very 
 long if you think you can put it over Limber. He's the 
 best pistol shot in the Territory." 
 
 "And you'd have as much chance against him," warned 
 another bystander, "as a jackrabbit would have, if it smelt 
 the cork of a whiskey bottle and then got brash and slapped 
 a bull-dog in the jaw." 
 
 "Go ahead and try it, if you want to," commented the 
 third man, "We haven't had a funeral 'round here for 
 some time now. It'd liven things up a bit for all of us — 
 except yourself." 
 
 The new-comer looked after Limber's figure with respect- 
 ful eyes. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY 
 
 WHEN Nell heard the news of Paddy's death she 
 felt she had lost a sincere friend. As her eyes 
 rested on the door she seemed to see the 
 wrinkled face with a strangely softened look, and hear his 
 voice saying, "Good noight, Misthress Thraynor. Git a 
 good noight 's rist and don't worrit any more." Poor old 
 Paddy! How little they dreamed of the long rest he 
 would find the next night. 
 
 She was glad that she had obeyed his injunction not to 
 let her husband know anything of the promised loan until 
 Paddy himself should speak of it. Her silence had saved 
 Allan from indulging in plans that could not now be carried 
 out. Everything seemed more hopeless than ever. 
 
 Doctor Powell had been trying to secure a loan through 
 friends in the east, in order to assist Traynor to ship some 
 of his stock; but his efforts had been fruitless, so far, and 
 a letter told them that he was going to Los Angeles to see 
 if anything could be done there. 
 
 The stage-driver who delivered Powell's letter, brought 
 the little collar that Paddy had commissioned Limber to 
 buy for the fawn. The cowboy had scribbled a few words 
 explaining that the gift came from Paddy. Jamie was 
 delighted. They did not tell him that his old friend was 
 dead. 
 
 A week after Paddy's death, Nell stood picking a few 
 withered leaves from the geranium in the window, and her 
 tears fell on the brilliant red flowers. She stared out the 
 window, wondering why those who tried to do right, found 
 life the hardest. 
 
 A gaunt calf stumbled weakly and fell near the fence, 
 
 272 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 273 
 
 making no effort to rise, as though understanding the 
 futility of struggling any longer. 
 
 "Oh, it is horrible!" she cried, turning away that she 
 might not see the dying convulsions of the animal. 
 
 She felt the drouth was a living, relentless thing, wrap- 
 ping its coils about them all, men and brutes alike, choking 
 and crushing the very heart of the universe. Unnerved by 
 constant anxiety over the sick child, the worry of the 
 drouth, and the shock of Paddy's death, she fell sobbing 
 to her knees beside the couch where the boy lay asleep, 
 breathing heavily, his cheeks burning with fever. 
 
 In the distance a strange haze had formed. It moved 
 slowly and majestically nearer, gradually growing thicker 
 — first a misty grey, then changing to a black velvety cur- 
 tain, dropping straight down from sky to earth. Creeping 
 stealthily, it turned to a brilliant red hue that looked as 
 if it were dripping with fresh blood, a colour that stung 
 the eyeballs until one put up a hand to shut out the grew- 
 some sight. Its hot breath crawled into the lungs and 
 stifled one; licked the face and fanned the hair. Then 
 with diabolic menace the colour changed to an inky black- 
 ness, while high above rose the edge of the pall. Tipped 
 with grey and white it bellied out like the crest of an 
 enormous black wave that seemed to poise a second before 
 hurling itself to the earth. Cattle bellowed and tramped 
 frantically beside the fences, trying to escape the dry 
 scorching air, as with a great swirl and deep suction, like 
 a mighty sob, the dust storm enveloped the ranch. 
 
 Although it was three o 'clock in the afternoon the rooms 
 were dark enough to need lights. The rays from the jets 
 filtering through the misty, moving clouds of dust, looked 
 weird and uncanny. Every window was tightly closed; 
 the air was stifling. Jamie moaned and moved his head 
 restlessly as Nell sat fanning him. Slowly the dust sifted 
 through the windows and under the doors, settling on every 
 thing, until the pillow under the child's head became grey 
 and finally brown. For two terrible hours the storm lasted 
 
274 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 in all its fury, then a faint gleam of light slowly turned 
 from grey to liquid gold, and Nell ran to raise the windows 
 and let in the fresh air. 
 
 The window sash was warped and stubborn ; the woman 
 excited, and in her anxiety something caught on the flower- 
 box. With an impatient exclamation she hauled the heavy 
 box nearer the edge of the wide window-sill, and then lean- 
 ing forward, she forced up the sash. 
 
 A wave of fresh, pure air, tinged with a peculiar odour, 
 filled the room. As Nell, panting from her exertion, leaned 
 against the ledge, there was a sudden crash, and the box of 
 geraniums lay wrecked at her feet. Something else lay 
 there. Shining gold in twenty dollar pieces — Paddy's 
 legacy to Jamie. 
 
 She stared stupidly a moment, then clutched at the gold 
 pieces. They showered from her hands as she lifted and 
 kissed the coins passionately. This would mean life and 
 happiness for Allan and Jamie. 
 
 A strange rumble startled her. Then came the sound 
 of a frightful crash, the rush of hurrying feet, and the door 
 was flung open as Traynor dashed in. 
 
 "Look— look, Nell! Rain! Rain! Rain! Thank God! 
 We are saved!" 
 
 The deafening roar of the storm almost drowned his 
 voice as the rain beat on the corrugated iron roof and 
 flooded the court. 
 
 Then he saw the box and the scattered gold. While the 
 storm shrieked and flooded the country, making great run- 
 ning streams of the dry prairie, Nell told her husband of 
 the secret she had held with Paddy. 
 
 She slipped down on the floor, lifting the coins into her 
 lap, and counted them slowly. "Twenty-five thousand 
 dollars!" she exclaimed, and the last gold piece fell with 
 a tinkle like laughter, as though old Paddy, standing by, 
 invisible, were chuckling at his joke. 
 
 "Poor old Paddy!" said Traynor, "We none of us 
 understood the old chap except you and Jamie. You've 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 275 
 
 been a plucky little woman, and now the rains, and this 
 legacy of Paddy's, everything is coming out right!" Nell 
 picked up the broken geranium and held it against her 
 lips. "God bless you, Paddy!" she said. 
 
 She rose to her feet and her husband slipped an arm 
 around her waist as they stood together at the long, French 
 window, looking out at the glorious rain, while Paddy's 
 gold lay shining at their feet. 
 
 All night the rain fell in torrents, and then for the follow- 
 ing weeks, each day brought its storm, filling the ditches 
 and watering places in the flats and mountains, while the 
 cattle scattered over the ranges instead of crowding in the 
 few spots where there was water. 
 
 The worst drouth in the history of Arizona was over. 
 
CHAPTEE THIRTY-ONE 
 
 DOCTOR POWELL, who had returned from Los 
 Angeles a few days previously, was following 
 Chappo about the garden after supper, praising 
 the flowers the little Mexican had planted and cultivated 
 with such success. Limber, coming from the stable after 
 a final visit to see that the horses were all right for the 
 night, noticed a rider on the road from the Circle Cross. 
 "Juan is coming," announced the cowpuncher. 
 Powell turned quickly. "I hope nothing is wrong." 
 They walked toward the gate. Juan dismounted, slipped 
 the reins over his pony's head and held a note to Powell, 
 saying, "From La Seiiora. El Senor Glendon is seek." 
 
 The doctor hastened into the house, lighted a lamp and 
 read; 
 
 Dear Doctor: 
 
 Will you come back with Juan ? My husband is ill. He 
 had a severe chill, but is now in a stupor and I cannot rouse 
 him. I do not know what is the matter. Please hurry, for 
 I am much alarmed. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Katheeine Glendon. 
 
 Powell returned to the porch and questioned Juan, who 
 told him Glendon had not been well for a couple of days and 
 had refused to allow his wife to consult the doctor as she 
 had wished to do. 
 
 Hurriedly packing what medicines he thought might be 
 necessary, while Chappo saddled a horse, Powell explained 
 the situation briefly to Limber and set out, Juan at his 
 side, for the Glendon ranch. 
 
 276 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 277 
 
 Katherine was at the door when he dismounted and 
 handed the reins of his horse to Juan. 
 
 ' ' Oh, I am so glad you have come ! ' ' she exclaimed. ' ' I 
 don 't know what is the matter. I have never seen him this 
 way before. Usually I know what to do for him." 
 
 She led the way into the bedroom, as she spoke, and 
 Powell noted the unconscious revelation in her words. 
 Glendon lay on the bed, his red congested face and re- 
 laxed sensual lips adding to a bestial appearance. The 
 doctor drew a chair to the bedside and lifted the limp, 
 heavy hand from the coverlet, then he leaned down and 
 placed his ear against Glendon 's chest. Slowly the seconds 
 ticked away. The doctor leaned back and studied the 
 dissipated countenance, while Katherine waited at the 
 foot of the bed. 
 
 "Is it serious?" she asked anxiously. 
 
 "Pneumonia," replied Powell gravely. "I will have to 
 be frank, Mrs. Glendon. He has wrecked a fine constitu- 
 tion. The heart is in bad condition from drinking. Alco- 
 holism and pneumonia combined leave very slight chance 
 for recovery in this altitude." 
 
 "I understand that," answered Glendon 's wife, "but 
 there is a fighting chance, isn't there?" 
 
 "Yes — a fighting chance, nothing more. His heart is 
 weak. When the crisis comes it may stop, or it may re- 
 spond to treatment and rally sufficiently to go on. That 
 is the one chance for him to pull through. ' ' 
 
 As Powell turned again to his patient, she asked very 
 quietly, "Is there anything I can do " 
 
 "Bring a spoon, glass of fresh water, and some strips of 
 flannel, if you have them?" 
 
 She hurried away, and returned in a few minutes. 
 
 "That's good," approved the doctor, as she laid the 
 neatly rolled flannel bandages on the table beside him and 
 arranged the tumbler, spoon and pitcher of water where 
 he could reach them conveniently. "Heat that camphor- 
 ated oil, please." 
 
278 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 She followed his instructions and watched him saturate 
 the flannel, which he slipped around Glendon 's chest and 
 across his back with the deftness and gentleness of a woman. 
 Then he drew the coverlet smoothly and looked at 
 Katherine's pale face. 
 
 "You had better get a little rest/' he said. "I will 
 stay here until the crisis is past. Take this," he com- 
 manded, preparing a mixture in the glass and holding it 
 out to her. 
 
 Katherine swallowed the contents of the tumbler, while 
 Powell added, "You have a couch in the other room? Ill 
 call when it 's necessary. There is nothing you can do now, 
 and you must save your strength all you can." 
 
 The reaction from three days of anxiety and responsi- 
 bility aided the sedative in bringing sorely needed mental 
 and physical relaxation. The door leading into the 
 sitting-room was open, and after a short interval the doctor 
 moved softly to satisfy himself that she was sleeping. A 
 chill was creeping through the house. He went to the bed- 
 room and lifted an extra coverlet from the foot-board of 
 the bed, and carried it to the other room. The light from 
 the bed-room fell upon her face and throat, and as the 
 doctor carefully placed the coverlet over her, he saw dark 
 bruises against the pallor of the skin. In repose, the lines 
 of suffering were revealed plainly, and the pathetic droop 
 of the mouth like that of a sorrowing child. Through her 
 half-parted lips he heard the quivering sound of a sup- 
 pressed sob. He gazed at her, a world of love and pity in 
 his eye, then he glanced through the open door at the man 
 who lay on the bed. 
 
 Slowly the doctor returned to the chair at the bedside, 
 he leaned over and looked at Glendon intently. The crisis 
 was not very far off. Powell studied the heart action, took 
 count of the pulse, then his eyes went to the medicine on 
 the table. No sound except the ticking of the clock and 
 the stentorian breathing of Glendon broke the silence. In 
 the other room Katherine slept quietly. The doctor's eyes 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 279 
 
 did not move now from the face of the man on the bed. 
 The pulse beats were growing weaker. Powell's hand 
 reached toward the medicine, paused a second, then with- 
 drew and fell heavily in his lap. Moments went by, and 
 still the woman in the other room rested quietly ; the man 
 on the bed drifted more closely to the whirlpool of Eternity, 
 and the man beside the bed, with white face, tightly set 
 mouth and eyes like smouldering flame, sat waiting. Once 
 the doctor rose and walked softly back and forth across the 
 room, the hands clasped behind him were bruised by the 
 nails that cut into the flesh. On the mantel of the living 
 room was a picture of Donnie. The child's eyes looked 
 into his own, they followed him as he moved about. 
 
 Powell returned to the bed and sank into the chair, then 
 his face was burried in his hands. With a quick movement 
 he roused himself and watched Glendon steadily. At last 
 he turned slowly to the table and grasped the vial. He 
 held it before him and looked once again at Glendon, but 
 this time the doctor's eyes were untroubled. 
 
 Slowly and carefully he poured a few drops of the fluid 
 that would drive the sluggish blood to the heart that had 
 almost ceased to beat. Slowly it responded. Then, in the 
 silence of the night Powell began his battle to save 
 Katherine Glendon 's husband. Dawn like a shadowy grey 
 wolf, crawled over the tops of the Galiuros and slipped 
 down into the Hot Springs Canon. The cragged peaks 
 were bathed in sunlight as Powell looked at them, his face 
 drawn and haggard, his eyes weary, but in his heart a 
 prayer of thanksgiving and a plea for strength to carry 
 on his battle without faltering. 
 
 A slight noise at the door caused him to turn. Katherine 
 came swiftly to his side. 
 
 "How is he?" she asked eagerly. 
 
 "Rallying perfectly. The crisis is past for the present. 
 Unless something unexpected occurs, we shall pull him 
 through. " 
 
 "Why didn't you call me?" asked Katherine. 
 
280 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "You needed the rest," he replied. "Though the 
 danger point is almost over, you will have a long seige of 
 nursing that will tax your utmost strength. I shall remain 
 here until I am reasonably sure he is safe, and then, you 
 can take charge. Do you know how to use a thermometer 
 or take a pulse ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes. Doctor King taught me that." 
 
 "Then you can manage as well as though you had a 
 trained nurse here. But, remember! You must conserve 
 your strength. That is rule number one for a nurse. It 
 is inflexible. Understand?" 
 
 "I promise to do exactly what you say," she replied. 
 "Now I am going to get your breakfast and a good strong 
 cup of coffee will be ready very soon. ' ' 
 
 Glendon continued to improve during the day, and 
 Powell's vigilance never relaxed. Katherine relieved the 
 doctor for a few hours at a time. When a week had elapsed 
 without developing unfavourable symptoms, Glendon was 
 pronounced practically out of danger. The doctor knew 
 his own weakness now, and with his patient on the road to 
 recovery, Powell's antagonism to the man returned with 
 greater intensity. Yet, as the doctor rode home he deter- 
 mined that as soon as Glendon was- well enough, he would 
 try to awaken any shred of decency that might be dormant 
 in the husband of Katherine Glendon, the woman whom 
 Powell loved. 
 
 The professional calls continued several weeks, but 
 Powell and Katherine only met in the room where Glendon 
 lay weak and thoroughly frightened, for Powell impressed 
 upon Glendon the seriousness of his physical condition and 
 the inevitable result of continuous drinking, which had 
 weakened his heart. Glendon 's promises to reform were 
 genuine. Another month went past. An awkward re- 
 straint had grown gradually between Katherine and the 
 doctor, and though he flayed his conscience, he could find 
 no reason for it. As days went by, it became unbearable 
 torture for him to see her in her home with Glendon, and 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 281 
 
 yet, it was still harder to resist the temptation to go there. 
 Finally Powell determined to leave the Springs, and Chappo 
 a week later carried a note to Katherine. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Glendon; 
 
 I shall be at the Diamond H ranch for a month, after 
 which time I am leaving Arizona for an indefinite period, 
 on business pertaining to the plans for the Sanitarium. 
 Limber and Chappo will be at the Springs all the time, so 
 do not hesitate to call on them should you require assistance 
 at any time or in any way. 
 
 With my sincere regards for your husband and yourself, 
 
 Most cordially yours, 
 
 Cuthbert Powell. 
 
 Katherine read the note in her room. Her eyes blurred 
 with sudden tears. Now that Powell had gone out of her 
 life, thoughts that she had held in restraint, rushed across 
 her like angry animals breaking their leashes. She saw 
 with unblinded eyes the hideousness of her life, the hope- 
 lessness of the future, for during the past few days Glendon 
 had started again to drink. 
 
 The note trembled in her fingers, a tear dropped on it 
 and her heart was sick with despair. She understood at 
 last the meaning of the courage, the peace that had come 
 into her life, and she knew that she could go on to the end 
 that she might purify her love for Powell, by the flame of 
 sacrifice. 
 
 As the note blazed up in the fireplace, then died to a 
 quivering grey mass, she lifted her face to the tall peaks 
 that bent over the canon, and their strength seemed to 
 reach out to her. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO 
 
 WITH the breaking of the drouth, Jamie seemed 
 to acquire fresh vitality, and by the time the 
 grass covered the valley he was able to take 
 short rides on his pony, carefully guarded from over- 
 exertion by Limber and Doctor Powell. Under their united 
 care the little patient gained additional strength. They 
 all hoped that the crisis might be successfully tided over. 
 
 One day when Limber and Jamie had returned from 
 their ride, the cowpuncher accosted Traynor in the stable, 
 while unsaddling the ponies. 
 
 "Thar's goin' to be a sale of Government horses at Fort 
 Grant tomorrow, and maybe I'd better go an' look 'em 
 over. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Good idea, ' ' assented the Boss. l ' Better get over early 
 and size them up before the bidding commences." 
 
 Early the next morning Limber reached the garrison and 
 made his way to the Quartermaster's Corral where the 
 horses destined for sale were tethered. Frequently good 
 horses could be gotten cheaply at such sales, because of 
 blemishes that rendered them unfit for Cavalry use, yet 
 did not interfere with other work. Only a perfect horse was 
 reckoned a match for the ponies of the Apaches. 
 
 Limber selected two animals, then stood watching the 
 sales. He noticed with surprise that no one was bidding 
 on a big, handsome sorrel with cream mane and tail and 
 eyes that were alight with intelligence. The slender legs 
 and tapering ears showed heritage of racing blood. 
 
 The cowboy examined the animal, but there was no sign 
 of blemish. Puzzled, he watched inferior horses put up 
 
 2S2 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 283 
 
 and sold after lively bidding; but no one made an offer 
 on the sorrel, that watched the other horses with evident 
 interest that was almost amused curiosity. Limber liked 
 the horse, somehow. 
 
 " What's he condemmed for?" asked Limber of a soldier 
 who stood near him. 
 
 " Unmanageable. Breaks rank, won't face with the 
 other horses, dances when he ought to stand still, and runs 
 like the Devil, everytime they line up in parade. He's 
 racing stock. A dandy horse, alright, but too high-lived 
 for Cavalry work, and they can't break him in to it. He's 
 got more sense than any other horse in the troop, but after 
 they punished him a few times, he got to fighting every 
 time a saddle was put on his back." 
 
 Limber remembered several excellent horses at the Dia- 
 mond H that had been more unpromising material. "When 
 he went back to the ranch after the sale, he led the big 
 sorrel horse, intending to handle it himself. 
 
 Jamie was in the stable when Limber arrived, and the 
 horse leaned out its graceful neck until its nose touched 
 the child's shoulder. A sudden thought struck Limber. 
 The horse had been used to children, evidently, at some 
 period of its life. 
 
 "Go get some sugar," said Limber to Bronco, and when 
 he returned, Limber handed a lump of sugar to the child. 
 "See if he will take it from you." Jamie held out the 
 sugar, and Gov'ner, with a little nicker, took it carefully 
 from the boy's hand. After repeating the operation several 
 times, the boy moved slowly away, holding out his hand, 
 and the horse followed him, threading gingerly between 
 the buggies, around the men, and receiving his reward. 
 
 Traynor and Nell came out to watch them, and Gov'ner 
 condescended to make friends with the woman, also, but 
 flatly refused to accept sugar from any of the men. He 
 plainly showed his preference for the child, and Traynor 
 laughed as he said, 
 
 "He has no use for any one but you, Jamie. He's 
 
284 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 your horse from now on ; but you must not ride him until 
 Limber says that it will be all right. ' ' 
 
 So for days Gov'ner was educated, gently and kindly, 
 and always with the child near by. At first the boy was 
 placed on the animal's back, while it was led about the 
 barn. After that, Limber, mounted on Peanut, led Gov'ner 
 on the road at a walk, while Jamie talked to the horse or 
 patted the shining neck. Not once was there any indica- 
 tion of fractiousness on the part of Gov'ner. A child's love 
 and kindness had conquered where discipline had failed. 
 
 Mornings, when the day's work on the range was light, 
 Gov 'nor would be led out and the minature cowboy saddle 
 placed on his back. Neatly coiled and tied to the saddle 
 was a beautifully made riata, the gift of Bronco, who was 
 noted for his skill in making these ropes. When the child- 
 ish figure appeared, equipped with leather leggings and 
 tiny spurs, there would be a sharp, joyous yelp from Dash, 
 the leader of the greyhound pack, and an answering call 
 as Killem, Catchem, Scrub and Beauty came leaping 
 in delight, knowing there were rabbits and coyotes to 
 chase. 
 
 Fong shuffled out with a lard-pail slipped into a flour 
 sack, which he carefully tied to the little saddle, with the 
 smiling information, "Clake and clookies." Then Nell 
 kissed the boy good-bye, saying, "Take good care of him, 
 Limber;" and the man, turning in his saddle would reply, 
 "Don't you fret, Mrs. Traynor. We all look out for the 
 Kid." 
 
 In the evening, the cowpuncher, dwindling to a tiny 
 white-robed figure, crawled into Nell's arms as she sat in 
 front of the big, "comfy" fire-place, to tell her about the 
 baby calves, and how many rabbits had been chased. 
 Once, with shining eyes and flushed cheeks, how "Me and 
 Limber roped a coyote — but we let it go home again to 
 its fambly — 'cause I told Limber I knew they would be 
 waiting for it to come." 
 
 One day Jamie did not come out to Gov 'nor 's stall, and 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 285 
 
 the horse whinnied in vain. The men went around speak- 
 ing softly, taking off their spurs to avoid any possible noise 
 on the board floor of the stable, and Doctor Powell never 
 left the bedside of the darkened, quiet room, where he 
 battled for the life of the child they loved so deeply. 
 
 "You had better take him and Mrs. Traynor to Los 
 Angeles, " the doctor advised Traynor. "She is breaking 
 down under the long strain, and in her condition needs 
 care as much as the boy. I will go with you and stay as 
 long as I can be of any assistance." 
 
 "Do you think there is any hope for him?" asked Tray- 
 nor. 
 
 "A child's life is a bit of delicate mechanism," answered 
 Powell, ' ' even when all hope was lost, I have seen wonder- 
 ful rallies. Not through the skill of a physician, but 
 through some peculiar recuperative power we don't under- 
 stand, as yet." 
 
 Traynor wrung the doctor's hand silently. 
 
 Arrangements for the trip were completed, the trunks 
 and luggage loaded on the heavy wagon had already started 
 for Willcox. As Traynor assisted Nell into the carriage, 
 Gov 'nor, poking his head from the box stall, wondering 
 what it was all about, saw Limber carry a limp little figure 
 from the courtyard into the stable. The horse recognized 
 the boy and whinnied joyously. Jamie lifted his head and 
 spoke to Limber, who carried him over to the horse. 
 Gov 'ner 's nose reached out and the thin little hand stroked 
 it weakly. 
 
 "Good-bye, Gov 'ner," came the faint voice. "Limber 
 will be good to you till I come home. Won't you, Limber?" 
 
 Limber's face twitched as he answered, "No one shall ride 
 Gov 'ner whilst you are gone, Kid. ' ' 
 
 After the carriage disappeared and the men had gone 
 about the various duties of the day, Fong shuffled into the 
 barn and looked around cautiously. Seeing no one, he 
 sneaked into the saddle room and picked up a shiny little 
 lard pail, that had once been used to hold cookies. Clutch- 
 
286 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ing it tightly the Chinaman ran swiftly across to the 
 kitchen, and shut the door with a bang. 
 
 Limber, who had been saddling Peanut, unobserved by 
 Fong, witnessed the incident, and when evening came, the 
 cowboy knew it was not opium that caused the Chinaman's 
 red-rimmed eyelids. 
 
 Gov'ner was very lonely in the stables and pastures all 
 day when the other horses were busy, and at first he called 
 incessantly. Then finding that it brought no response from 
 the child he loved, he stood patiently watching the door 
 that led into the court. 
 
 Letters came from Traynor saying that they were win- 
 ning the battle, and that Jamie would come back to them 
 better than ever before in his life. Then came another 
 letter which Limber read with a choking voice, for Traynor 
 told the boys of the Diamond H that they now had a new 
 Boss, and that the little mother was well, happy, and sent 
 her love to them all. That she said they were "all her 
 boys," and she would not be satisfied until she got back 
 home again and showed them the wonderful baby. Tray- 
 nor added that Doctor Powell would be home that week, 
 but the rest of them would not return for another month. 
 
 Fong, on a hunt for eggs, passed through the stable as 
 the letter was finished, and Limber called him to tell him 
 the news. The old Chinaman's eyes filled up with tears 
 that streamed down his face. "Klid he comme home all 
 light ; new blaby clommee allee samee. "When he dome ? 
 I blake a cake ! ' ' 
 
 That night the Mail Order catalogue was the centre of 
 attraction in the bunk-house, and for hours the index and 
 illustrations were scanned in search of a suitable gift for 
 the new Boss. Saddles, spurs, chaps were debated as not 
 quite fit articles for immediate use, as the recipient would 
 be about two months old when he reached the Diamond 
 H. In a quandary they hunted up Fong. 
 
 The old Chinaman bristled with importance and put on 
 the horn spectacles that made him resemble a reincarnated 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 287 
 
 Confucius. Slowly and critically he squinted at the cata- 
 logue, then a "smile that was child-like and bland" ex- 
 panded his face, while his long-nailed finger pointed 
 triumphantly. 
 
 "You clatchee him. He all light for blaby." 
 
 They stared at the illustration, gazed blankly at Fong 
 and then looked again at the book. 
 
 "What's it for?" demanded Bronco. 
 
 "No savey? Blimeby — blaby clatchee teeth!" Fong 
 gave a vivid impersonation by chewing the end of a fork 
 which he seized. 
 
 "I guess that's o.k. so far as it goes," Roarer endorsed, 
 "but we've got to get somethin' else. That's too durned 
 measly. ' ' 
 
 Once again they studied, suggested, rejected, and finally, 
 in the hours approaching dawn, the order sheet was filled 
 out. The articles enumerated ranged from the teething- 
 ring and rattle, a baby buggy, a high chair, silver mug, one 
 pair silver-mounted spurs, one silver-mounted bit, a small- 
 sized saddle, bridle and a gold bracelet "for a lady" that 
 was to be inscribed ' ' from the boys of the Diamond H. " A 
 letter explained the circumstances and eventful arrival, and 
 asked if the head of the store would take special care with 
 the order, and pick out a nice bracelet, as they were all cow- 
 punchers and didn't know anything but cows, — perhaps the 
 store-keeper might get his wife to pick out the right sort 
 of bracelet. 
 
 Two weeks later they received word that their order had 
 been carefully filled, and a handsome, plain gold bracelet 
 inscribed as desired had been forwarded, together with the 
 other articles in their esteemed order. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 
 
 THE morning that Traynor was due at the ranch with 
 his family, the men and Fong were up long before 
 daybreak. Inside and out, the ranch had been 
 scrutinized mercilessly, to see if everything was in perfect 
 order. Fong's pigtail jerked like an expiring rattlesnake, 
 as he rushed here and there, putting the final touches to a 
 meal which was to be the culinary achievement of his life. 
 
 When the carriage was finally driven into the stable, the 
 men crowded around, talking and laughing, asking ques- 
 tions but not waiting replies, until Traynor piloted his wife 
 and baby into the house; Jamie lingered with his friends. 
 
 There was a joyful reunion between the child and the 
 greyhounds which had been shut in the corral. Then, sur- 
 rounded by the leaping, yelping pack, Jamie and the men 
 turned to Gov'ner's stall. The door was opened by Lim- 
 ber, and they all stood waiting till Jamie called to the 
 horse, "Gov'ner! I'm back home again!" 
 
 Gov'ner's head flung up alertly, his nostrils distended, 
 his eyes shone; then as he saw the little chap outside the 
 stall the horse whinnied, tossed his head and pranced 
 through the door. The proud head lowered as the horse 
 reached the child, and the lips nipped playfully at Jamie's 
 coat, while the boy laughed in delight, petting the satiny 
 neck, as he said triumphantly, "You see, he didn't forget 
 me while I was away." 
 
 It was a new Jamie that had come back to them. For 
 sometime Powell had been studying the cause of the boy's 
 retarded recovery, and had finally concluded it was due 
 to other reasons than the tubercular tendency. He had 
 not suggested this to Traynor until consultation with two 
 
 288 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 289 
 
 noted specialists, had confirmed his diagnosis. After the 
 operation which was found necessary, the lad's improve- 
 ment was astonishing ; so when he reached the Diamond H, 
 nothing more was necessary than outdoor life in the high, 
 dry climate and plenty of nourishing food, to make him a 
 normally healthy boy. 
 
 Traynor joined the boys as they watched the reunion of 
 Gov'ner and the child. Then he asked, "Don't you boys 
 intend to come in and meet the new Boss and his mother? 
 They're expecting you." 
 
 Without hesitation the men followed him into the living 
 room where the young mother, with the baby on her lap, 
 waited the homage she knew would be accorded freely by 
 these loyal friends. 
 
 Cautiously they all approached and regarded the small 
 atom of humanity that gazed back at them with serene 
 eyes. 
 
 "Feel how heavy he is," offered Nell, holding the in- 
 fant toward them. Each one shrunk back a bit and their 
 eyes shifted to each other. 
 
 "Take him, Bronco. He won't bite;" laughed Nell. 
 
 Bronco edged back of Limber, as he replied, "Limber's 
 the foreman. He's got the first throw!" 
 
 Limber's arms went out, and the little mother laid the 
 child carefully upon them, fussing with the dainty white 
 dress, and smiling down into the baby face against the blue 
 flannel shirt. As she stepped back, she caught a passing 
 expression on Limber's face, and her eyes grew misty. 
 Though he did not know it, she glimpsed Limber's soul in 
 that moment. 
 
 The baby blinked up, then a quivering, uncertain little 
 smile touched his lips. 
 
 "Gee! Look at him," ejaculated Bronco. "Say, he's 
 made friends with Limber already. Isn't he the smart lit- 
 tle geezer, though?" 
 
 Gaining courage the rest of the men pressed closer, and 
 Bronco put out a horny finger to touch the pink palm. 
 
290 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Like the leaves of a sensitive plant, the fingers curled 
 tightly around the cowboy's digit, then pulled determinedly 
 toward a puckering mouth, while Bronco's eyes opened in 
 consternation. 
 
 "Say, you don't want to eat me, do you? That ain't 
 a stick of candy!" he pulled gently but firmly until he man- 
 aged to rescue the threatened finger, and the other men 
 chuckled in unison. 
 
 "Ain't he got a dandy grip ! He'll be able to hang onto 
 a steer when he gets it roped, you bet!" Roarer's squeak 
 asserted. 
 
 "Smartest baby I ever seen," Holy pronounced oracu- 
 larly, ignoring the fact that it was the first time in his 
 life he had ever been near a young baby. 
 
 Fong hovered in the doorway, and as they looked up they 
 saw a cake with gorgeous white icing. It was Fong's only 
 way of expressing his fealty and congratulations. He de- 
 posited the cake on the table, and Nell beamed on him. 
 
 "We'll make baby cut his own cake, Fong!" Then she 
 turned, "Limber, won't you call Allan?" 
 
 Traynor joined them, and the entire outfit stood in ad- 
 miration, while Nell held the tiny hand about the big 
 butcher knife and thrust it into the heart of the lacy 
 design of icing. Fong's eyes blinked rapidly, and he kept 
 saying, over and over, "Velly fline blaby ! Him velly fline 
 bloy!" 
 
 Once again Traynor brought champagne, and the glasses 
 were lifted as he gave the toast, "To the Boss of the Dia- 
 mond II and his mother. God bless them both ! ' ' 
 
 After that Nell got the teething-ring, and when the child 
 grasped and thrust it into its open mouth, the men all 
 grinned. "He sure knows what that is made for," 
 chortled Bronco, "an' that's more 'n we knowed till Fong 
 tol'us.' 
 
 They bombarded Nell with questions regarding his 
 weight, how sooh he would acquire real teeth, and how 
 long before he would be wearing trousers. They were 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 291 
 
 thirsting for information regarding infantile development, 
 and when Roarer, in an off-hand manner, referred to his 
 "sister's twins in Texas," they looked at him with envious 
 eyes. Roarer did not disclose that said twins were almost 
 as old as himself. He dilated on various events in their 
 careers, which lie remembered hearing the aforesaid twins 
 relate themselves. He cudgeld his brain for historic data. 
 
 The boys were feeling very much at home, when the 
 baby began to squirm uneasily in its mother's arms. Its 
 face screwed up, its eyes squinted and disappeared entirely, 
 and the boys looked anxiously at Nell. 
 
 "Does he have fits?" inquired Bronco solicitiously. "I 
 know its all right for puppies to have 'em, but does babies?" 
 
 The infant answered for himself with a sneeze, and Nell 
 looked around at the open window. This gave the men an 
 excuse to plead work, and tiptoe from the room. 
 
 Once in the stable they halted, and Bronco, still seek- 
 ing information, faced Roarer. "Say, Roarer, did your 
 sister's twins in Texas have fits?" 
 
 "Sure," answered Roarer cheerfully. "They was so 
 uster havin' 'em that we never paid no attention at all 
 when one come on. It's just like puppies, you know. 
 'Twouldn't be noways natural if thar wasn't fits — an' fleas. 
 Don't do no hurt. Jest look at all the people that lives to 
 grow up, anyways ! ' ' 
 
 But that night Roarer borrowed the big book, tellingr 
 "How to be Your Own Doctor," which was the Court of 
 Final Appeal for everything from cooking recipes to get- 
 ting rid of bedbugs, lawsuits and other worries, together 
 with a complete list of the "ills to which the human flesh 
 is heir," and infallible remedies for all. 
 
 The men did not know that he was studying assiduously 
 every bit of data obtainable regarding the diseases of in- 
 fants. They wondered afterwards at Roarer's unfailing 
 supply of information about babies, well or ill; but he 
 ascribed his knowledge entirely to his associations with the 
 Texas Twins. 
 
292 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Once more the interrupted routine of ranch life was re- 
 sumed and Limber divided his time between the Diamond 
 H and the Hot Springs. Though the cowpuncher passed 
 the Circle Cross at intervals he never dismounted. Chappo 
 and Juan kept in touch with each other, and through them 
 Limber and Powell knew that Glendon's wife found life 
 more bearable since the anxiety about Donnie had been re- 
 moved. Yet she never suspected the part that Doctor 
 Powell and Limber had taken in forcing Glendon's 
 acquiescence to her wishes and plans for the boy. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 
 
 UNLIKE most ranches in Arizona, the Diamond H 
 cultivated a number of its fenced fields. Millet, 
 sorghum and other cattle feed was stacked for 
 use of the horses and the thoroughbred bulls during winter, 
 thus insuring first-class condition of this particular stock 
 when the grass started and they were turned out on the 
 open range. This system of Traynor's avoided losing time 
 that would be otherwise required to put his bulls in good 
 breeding condition each spring. 
 
 During the plowing season, the blacksmith at the Dia- 
 mond H suddenly decided to leave for parts unknown, be- 
 tween sunset and sunrise. The cowboys were all able to 
 shoe their own ponies, but tires had to be set, tools sharp- 
 ened, plowpoints kept in shape , pumping machinery 
 needed constant repairing, and a first-class blacksmith was 
 a necessity on the Diamond II. Willcox could not fill the 
 vacancy, and advertisements in Tucson and even Los 
 Angeles papers brought no response. Each of the men on 
 the ranch had done the best he could to fill the void, but all 
 acknowledged ruefully, ''it's a durn sight different from 
 jest shoein' a pony." 
 
 In this emergency Loco, the Mexican who had obtained 
 work at the Diamond II after leaving Walton, announced 
 that he had been a blacksmith in Mexico. 
 
 "Well, he can't do no worse than the rest of us," Bronco 
 decided, but one day's trial proved Loco was first-class in 
 that work, and so he was transferred from range work to 
 the blacksmith shop with increased pay and additional re- 
 spect. 
 
 293 
 
294 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 He was pounding a red-hot iron on the anvil one day, 
 when Traynor sauntering to the entrance of the shop, stood 
 watching him. 
 
 "How soon will you be ready to start, Loco f " he asked. 
 
 "In a few minutes I will finish, Senor." 
 
 "What is it?" Traynor asked idly. 
 
 Without looking up the Mexican replied ; " It is a brand- 
 ing iron, Senor." 
 
 He skillfully bent the end of the iron, thrust it into a tub 
 of water for a couple of seconds, then withdrew and ex- 
 amined it critically, after which he heated it again. It 
 was a peculiarly shaped iron, and Traynor dropped on a 
 box and looked with interest, as Loco pressed it on a 
 board, leaving a mark covering a space four inches each 
 way. 
 
 o-o 
 
 x x 
 
 "That's an odd brand," said Traynor, picking up the 
 burnt board and scrutinizing it, while the Mexican re- 
 garded him closely. 
 
 "It is my horse brand," explained Loco. "Apache is 
 leg weary and I am going to turn him on the range a while. 
 I bought another horse." 
 
 1 ' There are plenty good horses in the herd without using 
 your pony, Loco." 
 
 The Mexican shook his head; "Many thanks, Senor, but 
 I can do better work with my own horse." 
 
 "Well suit yourself;" Traynor agreed carelessly. "I 
 want you to go with me this morning to Mud Springs, so 
 I can show you where I want the ditch dug and the mill put 
 put up.' 
 
 Loco was studying the iron with the smile of an artisan 
 who recognizes a satisfactory piece of work. "I will get 
 the horses, Senor ; " he said, and turned to the stable carry- 
 ing the branding iron in his hand. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 295 
 
 If Apache, Loco's pony, was leg-weary, it was not very 
 evident as it pranced and danced along the road beside gay 
 little Chinati, whose swift movements had earned his name, 
 "Blackbird." Mud Springs lay twelve miles away from 
 the Diamond H, in the Galiuros toward Hot Springs. The 
 trail through Mud Springs was not often used, as the Box 
 Springs trail, a few miles further north, was more direct 
 and also much easier. It was a wild, desolate place and the 
 spring in a narrow, rocky canon, so cattle preferred the 
 valley during the grass season. This spring was of great 
 value to the Diamond H and PL ranges, however, giving 
 cattle access to feed in the mountains that otherwise would 
 be too far from water. Traynor, having learned wisdom 
 from the drouth, had decided to build a huge reservoir at 
 the mouth of this canon for the storage of water that would 
 otherwise be wasted by spreading. 
 
 He explained the details carefully to Loco, pointing out 
 where the ditch was to be dug to conduct the water to the 
 reservoir site. 
 
 "I want the wind-mill put up beside the reservoir, like 
 the one at the house. I '11 get the boys at work next week ; 
 but you can go on with the mill work before then. I am 
 going over to Hot Springs for a few days." 
 
 "How long did you live in Mexico, Seiior?" asked Loco. 
 "I have never been there," answered Traynor, wonder- 
 ing at the question. 
 
 "Only Americanos who have lived in Mexico speak as 
 you do," persisted Loco. 
 
 "I learned Spanish at college," replied Traynor. "By 
 Jove! What a shot! It's too far for a pistol!" 
 
 He was gazing up at a magnificent blacktail deer which 
 stood like a statue on a ledge six hundred feet above them. 
 Its head was thrown back, nostrils dilated, the slender legs 
 were tense and ready for flight as it sniffed the wind. 
 Then with a snort, it whirled and vanished. 
 
 Traynor had been so absorbed in admiration of the buck 
 that he had momentarily forgotten Loco's presence. The 
 
296 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Mexican, fifteen feet in the rear of Traynor had untied 
 the riata which hung on his saddle and coiled it cautiously, 
 watching the other man sharply. With a swift movement 
 he flung the rope about Traynor 's body, pinioning his 
 arms firmly. Chinati, feeling the jerk on his bridle, leaped 
 forward and Traynor fell helpless to the ground. 
 
 The sun was setting when Traynor again became 
 conscious of his surroundings and saw Loco standing over 
 him. 
 
 "What happened, Loco?" he asked stupidly. "Was I 
 thrown?" 
 
 Loco made no reply, and as Traynor still dazed from a 
 deep gash on his head, tried to rise, he realized that he 
 was securely bound, hand and foot. The loss of blood made 
 him faint and sick, and his brain seemed incapable of lucid 
 ideas. He had struck his head on a sharp rock in falling 
 from his horse. 
 
 For a while he lay with closed eyes, then he looked up 
 and saw Loco a short distance away, gathering pieces of 
 dead wood, which he heaped systematically into a pile. 
 Traynor recalled the Mexican's peculiar ways and wondered 
 if the man had suddenly become insane. He knew that if 
 such were the case, the best plan would be to avoid irritat- 
 ing him. 
 
 Traynor turned his head. The hope that Chinati had 
 gotten away and might give the alarm by returning to the 
 ranch riderless died, when he saw his own pony standing 
 quietly beside Loco's. Then he noticed his pistol glistening 
 a few feet from him, and wondered if he could worm his 
 way to it without attracting Loco's attention. Keeping 
 close watch upon the Mexican, Traynor slowly writhed 
 toward the firearm until he was within a foot of it. By 
 half turning he believed he could grasp the pistol as his 
 hands were tied in front of him. Loco lit the fire, and 
 with a fiendish grin untied the branding iron from his 
 his saddle and laid it on the flame. 
 
 A thrill of sickening fear shot through Traynor as he 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 297 
 
 strained at the rope binding him. One more effort and he 
 would be able to touch the pistol. The Mexican calmly 
 arranged the wood which had fallen, then walked over to 
 Traynor, who closed his eyes, hoping to throw the man off 
 his guard; but Loco, with a malicious leer, picked up the 
 pistol and seated himself on the ground beside his captive. 
 
 "I saw you, Sefior;" he chuckled. 
 
 "What are you going to do, Loco?" asked Traynor,. 
 trying to appear unconcerned. He now understood that 
 he was at the mercy of a maniac, and thought what a fool 
 he had been to forget the many irrational actions of the 
 man, whose name, Loco, should have been warning enough 
 in itself. The loco weed of Arizona and Mexico effects the 
 brains of horses, causing even the most reliable and well- 
 broken animal to develop sudden fits of viciousness. Loco's- 
 moodiness, his outbursts of anger, had fastened the nick- 
 name on him while he worked for Walton. 
 
 Loco rolled a cigarette, which he lighted deliberately. 
 
 " So ! You have not been in Mexico, Senor ? " he drawled 
 sarcastically. 
 
 "Never! I have no object in lying abont it;" said 
 Traynor earnestly. "Why should I deny it?" 
 
 "Oh, no, Senor! You never knew Ramoncita?" 
 
 "I never heard of her." Then catching sight of a small 
 crucifix that hung against Loco's breast where the blue 
 flannel shirt fell apart, Traynor looked the man steadily 
 in the eyes, and said slowly, "Hold that crucifix before me, 
 Loco, and I will swear that I am telling you the truth." 
 
 The man wavered a second, then laughed cunningly, 
 "A crucifix means nothing to a Gringo, and fear makes 
 liars of all men." 
 
 "Let me go, and I will give you money to make life easy 
 for you, Loco. You can go back to Mexico to your friends 
 and be happy." 
 
 The words roused the man to frenzy. He leaped to his 
 feet, murder and insanity stamped on his distorted features. 
 
 "Go back to Mexico, you Gringo dog? Do you know 
 
298 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 -when I will go back there? "When I have killed you, as 
 I swore. You stole her from me. You rode away laugh- 
 ing, and that night she killed herself!" He jerked the 
 crucifix from his breast, and shook it in front of Traynor's 
 face.. "You would swear it? On this — ? You did not 
 know that I took this Cross from her dead heart ! And I 
 swore on it as I knelt beside her coffin, that I would leave 
 my country, my friends, and never rest or return until I 
 had found you, who had made her an outcast. Every one 
 turned from her while she was alive, and when she killed 
 herself, the Church turned from her, and she was buried 
 in unconsecrated ground just outside the Church fence. 
 The Padre said that the Saints and the Holy Angels turn 
 aw r ay because she took her own life." 
 
 His voice rose more shrilly, ''You did not think I could 
 find you, but Walton knew you. He saw you with her in 
 Mexico while I was away. Walton knew you, you Gringo 
 dog! You killed her body! You killed her soul! You 
 thought you were safe, but Walton knew you ! ' ' 
 
 "Walton lied to you," Traynor answered furiously, 
 recalling rumours of Walton's threats of retaliation on 
 the Diamond II owner and cowboys. The Mexican, Loco, 
 had been Walton's catspaw. Traynor subsided, groping 
 for some plan to influence the Mexican. 
 
 "You cannot escape this time!" gloated Loco, circling 
 about Traynor as buzzards circle about their prey. "I 
 swore you should pay." 
 
 He went to the fire and tested his iron. Then, seeing it 
 was not yet hot enough, he came back and leaned over the 
 prostrate man. 
 
 "They are waiting patiently, Senor! As patiently as 
 I have waited seven long years." 
 
 A number of crows rose from the bushes with discordant 
 caws as he waved his arms wildly in the air and cried, 
 4 ' Look ! ' ' They soon settled down again, to watch the two 
 men. Higher in the air circled a couple of buzzards, and 
 the faint, quivering yelp of a coyote disturbed the silence. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 299 
 
 "I shall not kill you, for I want you to live long enough 
 to suffer. I will leave my brand on your face and shall 
 cut your ears as they do the calves. Then I will go back 
 to Mexico to my amigos and say, "I have kept my oath!" 
 The buzzards and coyotes will keep you company after I 
 have gone, Sefior!" 
 
 With a half-suppressed groan, Traynor thought of his 
 wife. He had told her he would remain a few days at 
 Hot Springs, so there would be no alarm at his absence. 
 Later, when they missed him, a few tattered shreds of 
 clothing and fleshless, scattered bones would tell where 
 the buzzards and coyotes had feasted. 
 
 Muttering, the Mexican brought the white hot iron from 
 the embers and knelt by Traynor 's side. He pulled the 
 crucifix from his bosom, kissed it reverently and replaced 
 it; then he made the sign of the Cross in the air above 
 Traynor 's face. His eyes gleamed exultingly as he clutched 
 Traynor 's hair and brought the hot iron closer and closer. 
 
 Traynor could smell and feel the heat, and great beads 
 of anguish broke out as he made a last conculsive effort to 
 free himself of his bonds. It was useless! His muscles 
 relaxed, he closed his eyes, clenched his teeth and waited. 
 
 Loco was too intent upon his revenge to notice a cowboy 
 racing toward them down the side of the canon, until a 
 wild yell woke the echo of the rocky walls. The Mexican 
 looked up and recognized Limber. Fearful of being 
 thwarted in his revenge, Loco stooped quickly over Traynor 
 and lowered the iron deliberately while a fiendish smile 
 distorted his face, and a sibilant hiss, like a rattlesnake 
 about to strike, sounded between the gleaming teeth. 
 
 Traynor, too, had heard the yell, but he had no hope 
 that Limber would reach him in time. His eyes looked 
 into Loco's. The iron almost touched Traynor 's flesh, the 
 grip of the Mexican's hand that clutched his victim's hair, 
 was so tense that Traynor could feel the quivering nerves. 
 
 A shot rang out. A look of surprise flashed over Loco's 
 face, the iron slid from his hand, but Traynor jerked 
 
300 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 suddenly so that it fell against the ground, while Loco 
 crumpled slowly across the body of the other man. Weak 
 with reaction Traynor became unconscious once more, and 
 when he opened his eyes, Limber had slipped his arms 
 under Traynor 's shoulders and held a flask to the white 
 lips of the rancher. 
 
 "Drink it," commanded the cowpuncher, who was now, 
 trembling with nervousness. "That was a mighty close 
 call. Did he hurt you any?" 
 
 "I'll be all right in a few minutes," answered Traynor, 
 as Limber cut the rope and assisted him to his feet. The 
 tight coils had made his body numb and the cut on his head 
 was an ugly one. Traynor was no coward, but he felt a 
 spasm of nausea as he looked at the iron which was now 
 turning from white heat to dull red. 
 
 "Better let me fix that cut," suggested Limber. 
 
 He helped Traynor to the spring, and washed the ugly 
 wound as tenderly as a woman, then he bound it with 
 Traynor 's white silk handkerchief as he listened to the 
 explanation of what happened. 
 
 " It 's a lucky thing for Walton he ain 't in the Territory, ' ' 
 said the cowboy tersely. "You can't blame the Greaser 
 for believin' Walton's lies. He's been off his cabeza a long 
 time and everybody knowed it; but Loco wouldn't of hurt 
 nobody if Walton hadn 't put him up to it. We wondered 
 why Walton was so all-fired rushed to catch that train, and 
 had figgered out it was because Billy Saunders ordered 
 him to quit the country. It's Walton oughter be layin' 
 there instead of Loco." 
 
 The two men moved to the side of the dead Mexican, and 
 as they stood looking down at him, Traynor recalled Loco 's 
 words, "and she was buried in unconsecrated ground, just 
 outside the Church fence, and the Padre said the Saints 
 and Holy Angels turn away because she took her own life. ' ' 
 
 The little crucifix dangling from the cord on Loco 's neck 
 had slipped from the half-open shirt. Traynor knelt down 
 and placed it on the dead man's breast, then lifted the limp 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 301 
 
 hands and laid them above the crucifix. Limber took off 
 his coat and covered the Mexican 's face. 
 
 "I'll send a wagon from the ranch," said Traynor. 
 "It's a mighty lucky thing for me that you happened across 
 here today. I was on my way to the Springs to see you 
 about a letter I had from Doctor Powell. ' ' 
 
 "I was workin' on the Divide, when I seen you and 
 Loco comin' this way; but I was busy with some cattle 
 and didn't pay much attention. "When I got through and 
 rid up on the Divide I seen Loco with the two horses and 
 you layin' on the ground. I thought mebbe you'd been 
 throwed till I got near enough to see what he was up to. I 
 had to shoot him. Thar wasn't no thin' else to do." 
 
 Traynor laid his hand on the cowboy's shoulder, looking 
 at him earnestly, "I owe you a debt that can never be 
 paid, Limber." 
 
 The cowboy flushed with embarrassment. "You ain't 
 got no call to thank me, Mr. Traynor. Peanut done it, 
 not me. He just busted hisself gettin' here in time. I 
 never seen him run so fast. Looked like he knowed it was 
 up to him and he done it." 
 
 "Peanut can't have all the credit," responded Traynor. 
 Then he drew a letter from his pocket. "Doctor Powell 
 has written me that he would like to make you his partner 
 in the P L ranch and cattle, provided it would not interfere 
 with my plans." 
 
 Limber looked up in open surprise. "I ain't got enough 
 to pay for 'em" he said. "I only saved up nine hundred 
 dollars, all told." 
 
 "Well, Powell says if you won't accept half interest, 
 he will close out his cattle entirely. The Sanitarium will 
 take all his time and attention, and he wanted you to 
 handle the stock for him. I wrote him I would be glad to 
 see you two in partnership." 
 
 The cowboy stared at the ground. "I don't say that I 
 wouldn't be glad to take the chanct, because I've been savin' 
 up hopin' some day I could buy a bunch of stock; but I 
 
302 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 can't let him give it to me. I can't owe no man, Mr. 
 Traynor." 
 
 "Neither can I, Limber," was the quick retort. "The 
 debt I owe you can never be paid; but I can pay part of 
 the interest due on it. Let me buy the half-interest for 
 you from Powell." 
 
 Limber shook his head slowly. "I don't want you to 
 think I'm mulish, or that I don't appreciate what you and 
 Doctor Powell is offerin' me, but I just can't do it." 
 
 "Then, let me make it a straight business deal, as if 
 we were all strangers. Give me your note and pay when 
 you feel able. Surely you can't make any objection to 
 that?" 
 
 Limber took the proffered hand, "If you make the note 
 out reg'lar, just as if it was some one else," he stipulated. 
 
 Traynor smiled broadly, "All right, Limber. That's 
 a go. I'll write Powell about it. Now, I'll hurry down 
 to the ranch and send one of the boys with the wagon." 
 
 Peanut looked up as Chinati galloped away with Traynor, 
 but seeing Loco's horse, Apache, tethered to a bush, and 
 that Limber was sitting quietly not far away, the gallant 
 little pony fell contentedly to cropping the grass. 
 
 Limber rose, loosened the cinch and removed the saddle 
 and blanket from Peanut's lathered back which he rubbed 
 with a wisp of grass. He stroked the pony's nose absently 
 and looked with pity at the dead Mexican. 
 
 "Dern that Walton ! The cards was sure stacked against 
 you, Loco. I 'm sorry I had to do it. ' ' 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 
 
 IN spite of the general impression of frontier lawless- 
 ness that prevailed during the 'eighties', Arizona had 
 probably as clean a moral standard as many of the 
 Eastern States which considered themselves far in advance 
 of the unsettled country. Though men 'packed' guns, and 
 personal affronts were settled out of Court, Arizona could 
 brag that any good woman was protected by every man in 
 the Territory. 
 
 So, when the Southern Pacific train was held up west of 
 Willcox, the community was as much surprised and shocked 
 as any more conventional town might be. Seventy 
 thousand dollars were taken from the express car by the 
 robbers, and no definite clue to their identity or where- 
 abouts could be discovered. 
 
 The railroad people, believing the first success would 
 encourage others, secretly armed all express messengers 
 with sawed-off shotguns, heavily loaded with buckshot. The 
 most deadly weapon known for short-range work. 
 
 These precautions were justified six months later, when 
 the regular west-bound train was nearing Cochise, a little 
 place twelve miles west of Willcox. The engineer, observ- 
 ing a danger signal, slowed down and finally stopped. As 
 the track was treacherous at that point during rainy 
 weather, he had no suspicions. Frequent washouts oc- 
 curred in the sandy roadbed. The track-walker ap- 
 proached, swinging his lighted lantern. 
 
 ''What's the trouble?" asked the engineer, as he and 
 the fireman leaned over the side of the engine, staring 
 through the darkness. 
 
 303 
 
304 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ''Track's soft. You'll have to go slow for about a 
 quarter of a mile, ' ' was the reply. ' ' They wired to Wiilcox 
 from Cochise but you had left on time. Hold on a minute 
 and I '11 ride back with you. ' ' 
 
 "All right," answered the engineer, then as the man 
 swung on the cab, "You're a new man?" 
 
 "Yes. Just went to work this week. I was on the Santa 
 Fe before I came down here," he drew a pipe from his 
 pocket, filled and lighted it as the engineer turned to start 
 the engine. 
 
 The fireman had returned to the rear of the cab and set 
 to work shovelling coal. 
 
 "Hands up!" 
 
 Two armed, masked men confronted the engineer and the 
 fireman faced three others. There was no alternative 
 except to obey. The train was made up of an engine, 
 express car, three Pullmans and two day coaches; the ex- 
 press, as usual, being directly back of the engine and coal 
 car. Three of the bandits guarded the fireman and en- 
 gineer, the other two running back a short distance. As 
 the brakeman approached to ascertain the trouble, he was 
 met and commanded to uncouple the express car and engine 
 from the rest of the train. Then, having complied under 
 protest, he was compelled to join the other two men who 
 were under guard. 
 
 "Pull ahead till we tell you to stop," was the order, and 
 the engine puffed on its way, leaving the passengers and 
 conductors to discover their predicament later. 
 
 Four miles from Cochise, in a spot where there was no 
 human habitation, the engineer was forced to halt. Three 
 robbers remained on guard while the other two went to the 
 express car and knocked sharply on the door. 
 
 "What is it?" the messenger demanded. 
 
 "Open the door!" 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 "Open the door, and we won't hurt you;" called the 
 robber a second time. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 305 
 
 Again there was absolute silence. 
 
 ''We'll give you one minute to open that door, or we'll 
 blow you and the car to Hell ! ' ' 
 
 The man inside the car knew there was nothing to be 
 gained by delay. 
 
 "All right," he called. "I'll open it, boys." 
 
 There was slipping of bolts and creaking of wood. The 
 door opened slowly about two inches. Three-fingered Jack 
 standing close to it, jumped backward and thrust the barrel 
 of his pistol through the aperture. A flash, a scream of 
 agony, and the door closed with a bang. The messenger 
 stood with blood streaming from his right arm, the sawed- 
 off shot gun smoking at his feet; but as he slipped un- 
 conscious to the floor, he knew one of the robbers was 
 badly hurt. 
 
 Outside, the men surrounded Three-fingered Jack, who 
 had torn the red handkerchief from his face. Blood poured 
 from a gaping wound in his side. His comrades eased him 
 to the ground, then turned their attention to the express 
 car. This time it would be short work — dynamite. 
 
 "Hurry!" urged the leader. 
 
 They moved to obey ; but stopped with oaths. Down the 
 track from Cochies shone the headlight of an engine. They 
 knew there was no other passenger train due either way at 
 that hour ; but they could not count on freights or specials. 
 The railroad officials had given instructions that each train- 
 despatcher keep close watch on the time between stations, 
 and if any train were late to wire at once to the last sta- 
 tion; then, unless satisfied, rush out an extra engine, or 
 pusher, with armed men. 
 
 These men, seeing the headlight of the stalled engine, 
 were ready for action as the 'pusher' raced forward at full 
 speed. The robbers, realizing that flight was imperative, 
 ran to the horses they had left tied in the brush, only paus- 
 ing long enough to seize their wounded comrade. They 
 boosted him roughly to a pony, leading it by the reins while 
 Jack clung moaning to the horn of the saddle. Each move- 
 
306 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ment was excruciating agony, as they rode madly through 
 the mesquite brush in the darkness. 
 
 The rescue party found the unconscious, messenger, and 
 the kidnapped engine and express car were backed to the 
 rest of the train, while the pusher raced to Cochise for a 
 posse and horses to trail the robbers. 
 
 It did not take very long to load armed men and saddled 
 ponies into an empty box-car at Cochise, and in record- 
 breaking time the little special again reached the hold-up. 
 While they were unloading their ponies, the belated passen- 
 ger train, carrying its excited passengers, its untouched 
 express car and the wounded man, rattled past the posse. 
 The engineer leaned from his cab, waved a grimy hand and 
 sounded a long-drawn whistle. Out in the darkness, the 
 fleeing outlaws heard and knew what it meant. Their 
 progress had been impeded by the condition of Jack, and 
 each movement of his pony brought groans and curses. 
 
 The leader halted. 
 
 "It's him, or all of us," he said, and the rest agreed. 
 
 "We're sorry, Jack, but it can't be helped. We've got 
 to leave you behind." 
 
 The wounded man cursed them for cowards and traitors ; 
 but fell limp as they helped him to the ground and made 
 him as comfortable as possible. Then they rode away, 
 carrying his pistol with them, for they would need it worse 
 than Jack. His curses followed them. 
 
 The darkness made it impossible for the posse to strike 
 the trail until dawn, but no time was lost after that. 
 Whether the robbers had some definite plan, or had be- 
 come too demoralized at their surprise, puzzled the trailers ; 
 for the riders had kept together instead of scattering in 
 order to make pursuit more difficult. The work of follow- 
 ing was made easy by the softened condition of the country 
 from recent rain, and occasionally a splatter of blood on a 
 stone proved that the messenger was justified in his asser- 
 tion that he had wounded one of the outlaws. 
 
 Five miles from the railroad track they found Three- 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 307 
 
 fingered Jack at the point of death. He lay gasping, and 
 watched them approach until they stood looking down on 
 him. A sardonic smile twisted his features. He would 
 have his revenge on the men who had deserted him. With 
 curses and vituperation he told the names of those who had 
 fled to save themselves — then added names of others in the 
 band. Several names mentioned were not unexpected, as 
 they were men known to be ready for any crime ; but no one 
 was prepared to hear him accuse Jim Glendon and Alpaugh, 
 who was the constable of Willcox and Deputy Sheriff of 
 Cochise County. 
 
 Tom Graham, the constable of Cochise and leader of the 
 posse, leaned down and said, "What was that? Did you 
 say Alpaugh and Glendon?" 
 
 Jack saw the incredulity on the faces above him. 
 Quietly, but with rasping voice, he replied, "I said Glendon 
 and Alpaugh. I 'm making this statement before I die, and 
 I want you all to witness what I say. They didn't play 
 square with me; — they even took my pistol so I couldn't 
 shoot myself. Glen and Alpaugh were staying home to 
 prove an alibi — We were to go to Glendon 's after the 
 job was done — give the money — to him — till row was over. ' ' 
 His eyes closed. The men thought he was dead, but he 
 gathered his ebbing strength once more. "We were to 
 share — and — quit the country — " Blood choked his 
 utterance; his head sank back and the jaws relaxed. 
 
 The group looked at him, then glanced at each other 
 dubiously. The accusation against Alpaugh astonished 
 them. He was acknowleged a good officer, sober, fearless 
 and apparently worthy of the confidence the community 
 placed in him while Glendon, though known to drink 
 heavily and be aggressive in his cups, had never been con- 
 sidered criminal in his tendencies. But, Jack's statment, 
 made in full consciousness that he was dying, and with 
 apparently clear mind, was damning evidence. 
 
 Slowly the posse returned to the track, carrying the 
 dead man across a saddle-horse, while the original rider 
 
308 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 sat behind, balancing the limp form. "When they reached 
 the railroad the body was placed on the floor of the caboose 
 and the engine started to Willcox. 
 
 Rumours of the hold-up drew a curious crowd to the 
 depot and questions were asked eagerly ; but no information 
 was vouchsafed for fear of alarming those implicated. 
 
 Limber was crossing the street of Willcox when Graham 
 saw him, and taking him aside, said, ' ' I want to swear you 
 in as deputy, Limber, and may need you several days. I 
 want men who can hold their tongues and be relied upon. 
 [We're up against a well-organized bunch." 
 
 The cowboy listened to Graham's concise statement of 
 the hold-up and Three-fingered Jack's death; but was not 
 told of the accusation regarding Alpaugh and Glendon. 
 
 "I'm ready any time you want me," was Limber's asser- 
 tion. 
 
 "Might as well come with me now." 
 
 "Which way you goin' first?" 
 
 " Alpaugh 's house." 
 
 Believing that the constable of Cochise intended to co- 
 operate with Alpaugh, the Willcox constable, Limber strode 
 beside big Tom Graham, though neither of them again 
 spoke. When they reached the neat little cottage where 
 Alpaugh and his wife resided, the constable was sitting on 
 the porch smoking, and came down the steps to meet them. 
 
 "Hear you had a lively time out your way last night, 
 
 ." he commented. "I was ready to go out and join 
 
 the chase but as it was in your section and you did not 
 
 wire for help, supposed you did not need me. Catch your 
 
 men?" 
 
 "One of 'em. The others had a good start; but a strong 
 posse with relay horses is trailing them. Three-fingered 
 Jack is dead." Graham watched the effect of his informa- 
 tio. 
 
 Alpaugh started, but recovered himself. "Dead? Was 
 he one of them? Well, you know he's always had a fishy 
 reputation. ' ' 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 309 
 
 "He was wounded by the express messenger. Lived long 
 enough to make a full confession." 
 
 "Who?" asked Alpaugh, trying to appear unconcerned. 
 
 " Hold up your hands, Dick. Don't make trouble. I've 
 got to arrest you." 
 
 Limber controlled his amazement, and in obedience to 
 a nod from Graham, removed the pistol from Alpaugh 's 
 hip pocket. Then Graham told his prisoner he might put 
 down his hands. 
 
 The constable laughed in amusement. "Well, I might 
 get mad if it wasn't all so darned foolish. I can't figure 
 out whether you are off your cabeza, Tom, or if it was 
 Three-fingered Jack trying to get back at me because I 
 arrested him once." His voice dropped and his face 
 grew serious. "I don't want my wife to know this. It's 
 all a big mistake and you'll find it out later on; but I 
 don't want her to worry. You've got to do your duty, 
 Tom, so I haven't any hard feelings against you or Limber. 
 I'd like to make an excuse to Jennie about going away, if 
 you don't mind." 
 
 "All right. Don't stir up trouble, Dick; that's all," 
 warned Graham. 
 
 "It's too silly to make any row over," Alpaugh answered 
 with open contempt as he walked to the hall door and called 
 to his wife, "I've got to go out of town at once, Jennie. 
 Graham wants me. There's been a hold-up near Cochise. 
 Don't get worried if I'm gone several days. I won't need 
 any war-bag. Be back as soon as I can make it." 
 
 Mrs. Alpaugh was a plump, quick body, with brown eyes, 
 brown skin, smooth brown hair and alert way of cocking 
 her head on one side, much like an impudent sparrow. She 
 came on the porch and smiled at them. 
 
 "I might as well be an old maid," she pouted. "Dick is 
 away nearly all the time, lately." 
 
 "Good-bye, Jennie," interrupted her husband, fearing 
 she might innocently complicate matters. 
 
 "Don't let the train-robbers catch you all," she laughed 
 
310 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 as they headed across the street, where Alpaugh was taken 
 to a room in the hotel, to be held in custody until the 
 Sheriff from Tombstone, the County seat, should arrive. 
 
 Limber and Graham walked together from the hotel. 
 "Got to get our horses,' ' said the officer. 
 
 At the Cowboy's Rest they were joined by other men 
 who were waiting. Limber flung the saddle on Peanut, 
 adjusted the headstall of the bridle and mounted. 
 
 Out on the street Graham rode up to him, and Limber's 
 eyes met his. "Who else, Tom?" 
 
 "Glendon," was the reply. 
 
 The cowboy twisted quickly in his saddle, his face filled 
 with consternation. "How did he get in?" 
 
 "Don't ask me," was the moody answer. "Three- 
 fingered Jack made a dying statement and accused them 
 both; so I've got to arrest him. 'Tain't a pleasant job 
 when you've known the men for years and have slept with 
 them, shared chuck and worked together. It's bad enough 
 mess when there ain't any women, but Alpaugh and Glen- 
 don have decent wives. What business has a man with a 
 family getting into such a mess, anyhow?" he growled, 
 voicing the thoughts of the man who rode beside him. 
 
 Limber wished heartily that Powell were home at the 
 Springs, now. In imagination he pictured Glendon 's wife 
 alone at the Circle Cross with only Juan and the dog to 
 sympathize with her in this new trial ; he regretted that 
 Graham had selected him as one of the posse, but it could 
 not be helped now. 
 
 It was a very quiet quartette which rode up to the gate 
 of the Circle Cross. Glendon came down the front walk. 
 
 1 ' Hello, boys ! Off on a hunting trip ? " he asked affably. 
 "Get down and have a drink." 
 
 ' ' We 're after you, Jim, ' ' said Graham bluntly. ' ' Three- 
 fingered Jack split on the gang." 
 
 Glendon started in surprise. "What the Dickens are 
 you talking about. What have I to do with Three-fingered 
 Jack? Tou must be joking!" He regarded them so 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 311 
 
 frankly that they wondered uncomfortably whether the 
 dead man had told the tale in spite, as Glendon hastened to 
 suggest. 
 
 "I had trouble with Jack over two months ago, and I 
 suppose this is his way of getting even with me. ' ' 
 
 "He said you were with them on the first hold-up, and 
 that they were to bring the loot to you this time for you 
 to take care of for them. I guess it's up to you to go 
 quietly, Jim. We don't go much on what he said, but we 
 can't help ourselves." 
 
 "It's a fine proposition when a man stays home and minds 
 his own business, then finds he's accused of being mixed in 
 a thing like this," Glendon spoke indignantly. "I bet 
 Three-fingered Jack won't repeat that story to my face." 
 
 "No he won't, Jim;" returned Graham quietly. "He's 
 dead. He made his statement when he knew he was dying, 
 and called the posse to witness what he said. He shot the 
 express messenger; — got a load of buckshot himself." 
 
 Glendon shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "Oh, well, 
 I suppose I've got to go, but you're on the wrong trail this 
 time, boys. I haven't been away from home for over a 
 month, as my wife can tell you." 
 
 He turned toward the house as though to call for corro- 
 boration. 
 
 "No use dragging Mrs. Glendon into it." said Limber, 
 quickly. "I guess you can get other witnesses outside of 
 her, if you need 'em Jim. It ain't the sort of thing for 
 any woman to be mixed up in, and we don't want to make 
 it harder for her than we have to." 
 
 The others nodded approvingly; but Glendon 's eyes 
 narrowed and he faced Limber in sudden fury. 
 
 "Look here, Limber, you're an old friend, but don't 
 presume too far. I'm not as big a fool as you think I am. 
 You mind your own business, damn you ! What's my wife 
 to you anyhow? You and Powell have butted in a good 
 bit in my family affairs!" 
 
 Limber's face was white; his right hand flashed to his 
 
312 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 pistol, then fell away. His eyes stared in dumb misery 
 toward the house. The other men saw Katherine Glendon 
 standing in the doorway. Every head was bared instantly. 
 She understood that something was wrong, and an expres- 
 sion of dread darkened her eyes as she moved to her 
 husband's side. 
 
 ''What is it, Jirn?" she asked. 
 
 Glendon kicked the gravel but no one answered. Ther 
 as her eyes moved from face to face, she recognized Limber. 
 
 "What is wrong, Limber?" 
 
 The cowpuncher kept his eyes on the horn of his saddle. 
 He would have shot Glendon for the insult passed, but he 
 could not force himself to tell Glendon 's wife their mission. 
 
 Graham cursed inwardly. Glendon 's lips wore an ugly 
 smile, and he refused to speak. 
 
 "The train was robbed again last night, Mrs. Glendon," 
 explained Graham, at last. "Three-fingered Jack was 
 killed. He made a statement accusing Glendon and 
 Alpaugh. "We're all friends of Glendon 's and don't be- 
 lieve the story was true ; but we have to take him back with 
 us. We can't help ourselves." 
 
 Katherine held tightly to the picket fence while the man 
 was speaking. 
 
 "You are making a terrible mistake," she cried in relief. 
 "He has not been awa\- from home for over a month." 
 
 "He told us that," was the answer, "and we're glad of 
 it, too." 
 
 She turned to her husband, her hand rested on his arm. 
 "Jim, tell me you are innocent, and I will believe in you in 
 spite of everything," she implored. 
 
 He glanced suspiciously at the men. "You forget, 
 Katherine, these men will be witnesses to every word I 
 speak. ' ' 
 
 "We will ride off a bit, Glendon, but we've got to watch 
 you," replied Graham. Following the constable, the rest 
 rode out of earshot, leaving husband and wife practically 
 alone. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 313 
 
 "Are you mixed up in it, Jim v ?" 
 
 "No;" he replied boldly, trying to look her in the eyes. 
 As his glance wavered, she knew that he was lying, and he 
 knew that she read his guilt. The knowledge roused his 
 resentment. 
 
 ' ' Jim, be honest with me, ' ' she begged earnestly. ' ' Trust 
 me. No matter what has happened — what you may have 
 done, you are my husband and I will stand by you. Tell 
 me the truth." 
 
 "There is nothing to go into hysterics over," he retorted. 
 "You know as much about the affair as I do. You know 
 I have not been away from home for a month. If you want 
 to help me, as you pretend you do, that statement from you 
 will counteract anything Jack may have said. I don't 
 know whether your testimony would even be admitted as 
 evidence. ' ' 
 
 "I could say that truthfully," she answered; "and, oh, 
 Jim ! I am so thankful. ' ' 
 
 "I know you have already accused, tried and sentenced 
 me as guilty," he shrugged his shoulders and walked over 
 to the men. "Ill be ready as soon as I can saddle up." 
 
 Katherine stood by the gate, numb with the shock, and as 
 the men rode past, they touched their hats. She only saw 
 the careless nod that her husband gave her, and he rode 
 away, chatting with the men. 
 
 Motionless Glendon's wife watched the last trace of the 
 dust-cloud from the horses' hoofs, then, she turned with 
 dragging steps into the house. 
 
 A few days later, she learned through Juan, who had 
 been to see Chappo, that the posse had caught up with the 
 fleeing bandits near the Mexican border. Their surrender 
 was effected after the ponies of the outlaws had been shot 
 from under them. 
 
 Downing, Burke, Wentz and two brothers, named Rowan, 
 constituted the remainder of the band. They, together 
 with Alpaugh and Glendon, were taken to the County jail 
 at Tombstone to await their triaL 
 
314 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Then a note from Glendon reached Katherine. He 
 wanted her to come to Tombstone at once and stay there 
 until the trial was over. So, leaving Juan in full charge, 
 she obeyed the wishes of the man she had married. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 
 
 WHEN the trial took place, the fact that Alpaugh 
 and Glendon had been in their homes, and there 
 being no proof of their actual connection with 
 the attempted robbery, merely the unsupported statement 
 of Three-fingered Jack, augured their complete vindication. 
 
 As the case was about to be closed, a bomb was thrown by 
 the prosecuting attorney, who asked to have "Wentz put on 
 the stand as a witness for the Prosecution. Alpaugh and 
 Glendon, with their attorneys were not prepared for 
 Wentz' evidence which corrobrated the story of Three- 
 fingered Jack. Assured of a very light sentence, or possible 
 freedom, as result of his turning State's evidence, "Wentz 
 made a complete confession of his part in the matter, and 
 the convincing details remained unshaken by the most 
 severe cross-examination by the lawyers for the defence. 
 
 Alpaugh and Glendon, as the testimony progressed ex- 
 changed glances of consternation, and the confusion of 
 their attorneys was apparent not only to Judge and jury, 
 but also to casual spectators who had no knowledge of the 
 twists of legal procedure. The jury was out but a short 
 time, and the verdict of "Guilty" was no surprise to any 
 one who was in the Court room. A few days later Glendon 
 and Alpaugh, together with all the others implicated, were 
 sentenced to ten years in the Yuma Penitentiary. Public 
 sentiment approved of the verdict, but many sympathizing 
 eyes turned on Katherine Glendon, w T ho sat w T hite-faced, at 
 the back of the Court room. 
 
 She had remained in Tombstone during the entire time of 
 the trial, and like many others, believed Glendon and Al- 
 paugh the victims of spite on the part of Three-fingered 
 
 315 
 
316 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Jack. To her, the unexpected development was crushing. 
 In her heart she felt it was the truth, although her husband 
 persisted in declaring his and the constable's innocence. 
 Her own testimony had been brief and convincing, but in 
 no way conflicted with the minute circumstances stated by 
 Wentz regarding Glendon \s activities. In fact, it only 
 served to prove that Glendon had planned a perfect alibi 
 with his wife as an innocent accomplice. 
 
 Immediately after the conviction, Wentz was given his 
 liberty as promised. With his first appearance a few hours 
 later on the streets of Tombstone, the open threats of 
 friends of the convicted men, caused him to hasten back to 
 the County jail and ask its protection until he could ar- 
 range to get away from Arizona safely. 
 
 The warden allowed him the privilege, but was not en- 
 thusiastic over it, as he said, "Well, Wentz, you're in a 
 fine mess, now. I wouldn't change places with you for a 
 lot! You're out a job, busted, got no friends and have to 
 quit the country. Denied if I haven't got more respect for 
 those fellows in the cells ! ' ' 
 
 Wentz made no reply, but slumped down in a chair, try- 
 ing to figure some way out of his dilemma, and the war- 
 den, lighting a cigar, continued grimly, " You're in the 
 same fix as the feller that sawed the limb off the tree, while 
 he was sitting on the end of the limb." 
 
 The other man scowled, but held his tongue. This was 
 his only place of refuge at present. Even those who had 
 no sympathy for the outlaws had still less use for the man 
 who had betrayed them. The warden rose with a smile as 
 Katherine Glendon entered the room. She had come to see 
 her husband. Wentz' head dropped until he heard their 
 retreating steps in the corridor. 
 
 "Is there anything I can do?" Katherine asked almost 
 hopelessly, as she sat in the cell talking to Glendon w 7 hen 
 they were alone. 
 
 "Go home," commanded Glendon. "There's no use 
 hanging around here any more. Forbes, our lawyer, says 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 317 
 
 that the railroad compan}- stretched a point in having the 
 indictment read 'interfering with the United States mail.' 
 No one touched the mail car. The railroad company never 
 could have won, and that's why they made it a Federal case. 
 It was a put up job all around, and Wentz stood in with 
 the railroad people to get us." 
 
 "Why should Three-fingered Jack have accused you?" 
 she uttered a thought that had puzzled her. 
 
 "Well, you see I had a row with him in Willcox the 
 last time I was in there," Glendon replied glibly, then hur- 
 ried to add, "Now, see here, Katherine, you've got a chance 
 to help me, and no one else can do it. Will you stand by 
 me? I swear that if I get out of this trouble you will 
 have no further cause to reproach me. I have done a few 
 decent things since I married you. Not many, but can't 
 you remember that I let you keep Donnie instead of send- 
 ing him to father, as I had a legal right to do?" 
 
 "Yes, Jim! I will never forget it! But even without 
 that, I would do my utmost to help you, because you are the 
 father of my boy." 
 
 "You're a brick, Katherine! Now, see here, I want you 
 to circulate a petition for my pardon, after the first excite- 
 ment has died down and I have shown myself a model pris- 
 oner. You will have to get a certain number of names, as 
 the petition has to go to Washington, because it was a Fed- 
 eral case. The Governor of the Territory has no jurisdic- 
 tion over it. You won't refuse to do this for me, will you? 
 Every one is against me now, and if you fail me, I shall 
 take advantage of the first opportunity to kill myself." 
 
 "Jim, have I ever failed you yet?" she asked simply. 
 
 "No; you've been a long way too good for me," he an- 
 swered, "and if I can get this squared, I'll show you how 
 I appreciate you and what you have done." 
 
 Despite his promises, she left the jail with a heavy heart, 
 knowing his weak and vacillating character, and feeling 
 that his protestations were not to be reckoned seriously. 
 But, she also knew that when the time came, she would 
 
318 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 help in any way she was able. So husband and wife 
 parted, and the woman returned to the Circle Cross ranch 
 the following day. 
 
 Juan and Tatters met her with delight. The old Mexi- 
 can hovered about her in dumb sympathy. A letter from 
 Donnie was full of his childish interests. The touch of the 
 badly scrawled pages comforted her as though the child's 
 hands were laid on her own. A feeling of thanksgiving 
 surged over her, that the boy was away where no knowledge 
 of the shadow in their home could cloud his eyes. 
 
 When the Mexican stood in the door of the kitchen, say- 
 ing in his liquid, native tongue, "Buenos noches, Seriora" 
 (Good night), she remembered that she could not keep the 
 man, there was so little money left now. 
 
 Gently she explained the situation to Juan. The bewil- 
 dered expression on his face suddenly changed to eagerness, 
 
 "Sefiora, I have saved up money. Eet is for both ol 
 us. Some day — manana — you pay me back." 
 
 "I cannot use your money, Juan." Her voice told ho^ 
 the offer touched her. "I must look out for the cattle my- 
 self, there is not enough to pay you wages. ' ' 
 
 "You have frijoles, no?" demanded Juan. "Eet is 
 enough. I stay!" 
 
 The matter was ended by Juan hurrying from the room 
 before she could protest further. Each time during the 
 following days when Katherine broached the subject, Juan 
 evaded the issue by having important work, and Katherine 
 unable to do otherwise, let their lives settle in a routine 
 that promised to stretch into years. 
 
 She made one more trip to Tombstone after the sentence 
 had been passed. Glendon instructed her about circulating 
 the petition, but bade her wait until four or five months 
 after he had begun serving his term. She left him in his 
 cell, carrying with her an undefinable impression of a man 
 whom she did not know; for already she sensed a subtle 
 change. 
 
 The day before the convicted men were to be transported 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 319 
 
 to the penitentiary, Glendon lay on his bunk in his cell, 
 wondering whether his plans would fail or succeed. He 
 was playing for high stakes; to lose meant forfeiting his 
 life. 
 
 Panchita had called at the jail several times since the 
 trial, ostensibly to sell tamales to the prisoners and their 
 guards. In no way had the Mexican girl been identified 
 with the train-robbers, so her actions created no suspicion. 
 She managed to let Glendon understand that she was ready 
 to co-operate in any plans he might make. 
 
 He had given up his original idea of hoping to win a 
 pardon, which if obtained, would only mean being finan- 
 cially penniless, and branded as a felon. The more he 
 thought of the alternative, the more alluring it became. 
 
 Panchita had told him that the money from the first 
 train hold-up, was safely sewn in a bustle made of news- 
 papers which she wore constantly. She had whispered this 
 while he pretended to joke and dicker for tamales. To- 
 night, there would be little steel saw-blades in the tamales 
 she was to bring for his supper. In order to disarm any 
 suspicion, she had laughingly promised to bring tamales for 
 all of them, because they were going on their long jour- 
 ney the next morning. The warden had given consent, 
 especially as she had promised double allowance for him so 
 that he could take them home to his wife. 
 
 Glendon knew that once he possessed those tiny saws, he 
 could cut the bars of his cell before morning. Panchita 
 would be waiting with a pony, and later she would follow 
 to Mexico where they would meet. He had no fear of her 
 failing him, knowing her insane jealousy of his wife. 
 
 He rose and paced the floor nervously, as the afternoon 
 waned. Five o'clock passed — half-past five — then the clock 
 in the sheriff's room struck six. The jailer passed the 
 barred door. 
 
 "Say," called Glendon, " hasn't that tamale girl been 
 around yet ? She promised to give us all a tamale supper 
 tonight, you know. Celebrating our journey." 
 
320 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "She's dead/' answered the jailer, stopping at the door. 
 "The place where she was staying caught fire last night. 
 It was a frame shack, and the rest all gqt out except her. 
 She wasn't burnt but smothered in the smoke." 
 
 "That's tough luck," said Glendon, trying to appear 
 careless. "Was it much of a fire?" 
 
 "No, they got it out in half an hour." 
 
 "Was she living with her folks?" Glendon was striving 
 not to betray his disappointment and anxiety, but he felt 
 like springing at the jailer and choking the truth from his 
 lips. Panchita was dead — but where was the money ? 
 
 "She boarded with a Mexican family, and they didn't 
 know anything except she came here lately and sold tamales. 
 She was making tamales last night just before they all 
 went to bed." 
 
 "Who takes charge of the body and property in such 
 cases?" 
 
 "Oh, the Comny buries them and burns up their old 
 duds. These Mex women never have nothing ! Funny 
 thing, though, about that," he paused to coax a cigar that 
 failed to draw properly. "Gosh! That's a rank cigar!" 
 he ejaculated taking it from his mouth and regarding it in 
 disgust, while Glendon 's fingers twitched. "I gave two 
 bits for it, too." 
 
 "You were saying something about the tamale girl's 
 duds. What was the joke?" 
 
 "Oh, yes"; the jailer resumed, laughing. "You see, 
 there is a Mexican woman that lives in the same shack and 
 she works for my wife. Does washing. She had some of 
 our clothes there and so came up to explain that she 
 couldn't get them done up on time. She told my wife all 
 about the fire, and that the girl had only an old dress and 
 a black shawl, but a fine pair of high-heeled slippers and 
 silk stockings, and — ha! ha! ha! a bustle made out of 
 newspapers. Can you beat that ? Got to be in style, some- 
 way." 
 
 Glendon 's eyes flickered and he caught his breath quickly. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 321 
 
 " Funny combination, wasn't it? But all women folks 
 are alike. If one of them rigs up so she has a hump on 
 her back like a camel, all the others break their necks fix- 
 ing up humps. If they were born that way, it would keep 
 the doctors busy operating to get rid of 'em." 
 
 Glendon stretched his face in an effort to smile, but the 
 muscles were almost rigid. 
 
 "Well," continued the narrator, enjoying his own story, 
 "after the body was taken away, this old washwoman and 
 another one started to clean up the place, and picking 
 around they found the things. They got to scrapping over 
 the stockings and shoes, that was too small for either of 
 them to wear. But they never let up till they had 'em tore 
 to pieces. The old woman was crying when she told about 
 it. My wife almost had hysterics when she told me the 
 story. ' ' 
 
 Glendon pretended to enjoy the joke hugely. Then after 
 a short period, he asked, "But what did they do with the 
 bustle ? Who got that souvenir ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, they burnt that up. It was just old newspapers. 
 Nobody wanted that. My wife asked about it, because she 
 thought the old woman might be wearing it herself. So 
 that 's why none of us got our tamales tonight ! ' ' the man 
 concluded as he moved away from the cell door. 
 
 Glendon threw himself on the bunk, cursing his ill-luck. 
 
 "Seventy thousand gone up in smoke!" he muttered, 
 never giving a thought to the girl who had risked every- 
 thing for his sake. His only regret was that her inoppor- 
 tune death interfered with his plans for escape. His 
 former passion for the woman turned to resentment. 
 
 1 ' Paddy 's money is safe, ' ' he meditated as he lay staring 
 at the wall. " If I could only get out ! ' ' 
 
 His last hope lay in the slim possibility that Katherine 
 might be able to obtain a pardon for him, then he could get 
 Paddy's money and go to South America. But such a 
 pardon would take months to accomplish. Glendon got up 
 and walked the length of his cell, kicking the wall when he 
 
322 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 reached the end of the room. Curses rose to his lips. The 
 wall in front of him reminded him of the grim grey walls 
 of the Arizona Penitentiary, and he felt that if he could 
 only get "Wentz by the throat and choke him slowly to 
 death, he would be willing to go to the Penitentiary for 
 life. But — "Wentz was free. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN 
 
 WENTZ, hovering in the corridor of the Tomb- 
 stone jail, had overheard the conversation be- 
 tween the jailer and Glendon. With knowledge 
 of Panehita's death, Wentz realized that his own plans 
 were in chaos. Glendon 's nonchalant attitude at the news 
 confirmed Wentz 's belief that Glendon knew where the 
 money had been concealed by the Mexican girl. 
 
 "If Glendon were free," Wentz muttered, "he would 
 probably get the money at the first opportunity. There 
 may be a chance after all." 
 
 Deep in thought, he returned to the room where the 
 jailer waited for the deputy to relieve him that he might go 
 home to supper. Wentz picked up a newspaper and began 
 to read. The deputy entered the room, and nodded to the 
 jailer, who exchanged a few casual words with him and de- 
 parted. Wentz had greeted the new-comer, but a curt nod 
 had been the only response. 
 
 The curse of Judas was upon Wentz. Since the trial 
 none of the men he had betrayed would speak to him, and 
 their eyes were threatening. Other men in the jail, offi- 
 cials as well as prisoners, held him in open contempt. Out- 
 side were those who made dire threats of vengeance. 
 Wentz envied his former comrades and began to feel that 
 he would rather share their punishment than face his own 
 black future. He was without money. No place in Ari- 
 zona would harbour a traitor; no man would trust him or 
 hold out a hand in comradeship. The railroad would give 
 him work, so he would not starve, but life would be unbear- 
 able. If he made his way to another section, it would mean 
 without a cent in his pocket, no credit, no work. If he 
 
 323 
 
324 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 could only find where that undivided money from the first 
 hold-up had been hidden, then he could laugh at them all. 
 
 The deputy had picked up a book. Yawning and stretch- 
 ing, Wentz dropped his paper, then rising slowly walked 
 along the corridor. He reached Glendon's cell, paused and 
 called, "Hello, Glen!" 
 
 The figure on the bunk turned heavily, and Glendon's 
 bloodshot eyes glared in fury at his former comrade. He 
 uttered no word. With a peculiar expression Wentz re- 
 turned to the office. 
 
 The deputy glanced up carelessly, and resumed his read- 
 ing. Wentz passed back of him and, with a swift move- 
 ment, snatched the man 's pistol from the holster that hung 
 on his hip, and struck him a stunning blow on the head. 
 The deputy dropped to the floor. Tying and gagging him, 
 Wentz secured the keys, then ran rapidly along the corri- 
 dor, unlocking the door of each cell until he reached Glen- 
 don \s. 
 
 "Get up, Glen! Hurry!" 
 
 Already the escaping prisoners, including Alpaugh and 
 the other train-robbers, were rushing past. Glendon 
 leaped to his feet bewildered. "You — " 
 
 "Don't waste time, you fool! Some one may come!" 
 said Wentz, pulling Glendon through the door and keeping 
 close at his heels as they reached the street, having stopped 
 only to pick up guns and cartridges in the room where the 
 deputy, now conscious but helpless, watched the procession 
 of escaping prisoners. 
 
 A number of cowponies were tied to the hitching-posts in 
 the streets, as is usual, while their owners were about town, 
 or eating supper. These were hastily mounted by the out- 
 laws. The presence of a number of horsemen galloping 
 through the streets of Tombstone was too common a sight 
 at the County seat to cause curiosity or comment. The 
 escaping prisoners broke into small groups and left town 
 in different directions, to avoid any suspicion. 
 
 The fugitives had another advantage in the unusual 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 325 
 
 darkness, not only because of the hour, but, also, of the 
 gathering black clouds that presaged a storm at any mo- 
 ment. So, even those who might have recognized the men 
 in the daytime, would be apt to pass them without a second 
 glance in the dim light. 
 
 When the jailer returned from supper an hour later and 
 discovered what had happened, a posse was formed with- 
 out delay. It divided into several parties, that all roads 
 might be covered as soon as possible ; otherwise the dark- 
 ness and approaching storm would make pursuit practically 
 impossible until morning. By that time any trail made by 
 the horses of the fleeing men, would be completely obliter- 
 ated, should it rain. 
 
 The band headed by the furious deputy who had been 
 the victim of the treachery, finally caught sight of Wentz 
 and Glendon, who were keeping together; and a rapid-fire 
 duel began between the pursuers and prisoners. The gait 
 of the horses, the uncertain light, and the intervening rocks 
 about the outlying district of Tombstone, all favoured the 
 fugitives. A bullet brought down the horse Wentz was 
 riding, pinning the man under it as it fell. He struggled 
 desperately to free himself. Seeing capture was inevitable, 
 the traitor lifted his pistol to his own head — and the posse 
 saw a flash. 
 
 Glendou, in advance of Wentz, heard the shot and looked 
 back. Then something struck his leg and he felt the blood 
 oozing down into his boot. Rather than give up now, he de- 
 termined to follow Wentz' example and use a bullet on 
 himself. 
 
 Ahead of him rose huge boulders, looming like gigantic 
 tombstones. Once he could attain their shelter, it would be 
 almost impossible for the posse to catch him, or to take 
 accurate aim. The horse he was riding responded to the 
 hammering of the man's heels — he had no whip or spurs. 
 
 At last he reached the shelter of the rocks and darted in 
 circles from one to the other, keeping them between himself 
 and any chance bullets. By degrees, the sounds of shots 
 
326 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 died away, the voices of his pursuers ceased. He knew he 
 had outwitted them for the night ; but there was no time to 
 lose before dawn. 
 
 When he had pressed on a couple of miles, he pulled up 
 his horse and slipped to the ground, laying his ear against 
 the wet earth while he listened intently. But the only 
 sound he heard was the rumble of distant thunder growing 
 louder and louder. Back of him the sky was inky black, 
 punctured at short intervals with zigzag streaks of dazzling 
 light. The storm was already upon the town from which 
 he had escaped. 
 
 With a sigh of relief, he examined the wound in his leg. 
 It was superficial. Glendon tore a sleeve from his shirt 
 and bandaged the wound. Then, mounting the panting 
 horse, he doubled back on his trail for a mile and made a 
 cut across the mountains at a point where no one but an 
 Apache had ever dared to cross, except in daylight. 
 
 This trail had not been used for a long time. Glendon 
 knew the danger of it; but death in the mountains at the 
 bottom of a gully, was preferable to the Yuma Penitentiary 
 for ten years, or longer. 
 
 By morning the rain would have completely obliterated 
 his tracks, and the posse would, no doubt, continue their 
 search in the direction they had last seen him following. 
 He realized there was another danger. He was trying to 
 reach the Circle Cross. The authorities would probably 
 telegraph to Willcox and a posse be started from that point 
 to Hot Springs. He must reach the Circle Cross, get 
 clothes, food and a fresh horse before any one else could 
 make that ranch. But first, there was something else to 
 do. 
 
 His thoughts were interrupted by the storm breaking 
 over his head. The reverberating thunder, incessant 
 flashes of lightning and shrieking wind sounded as though 
 all the fiends of the netherworld were keeping pace with 
 him, rejoicing at his escape and conspiring to aid him. 
 Across the backbone of the range he urged his frightened, 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 327 
 
 stumbling horse. Five miles from the Circle Cross, Glen- 
 don halted and sat peering in all directions when a flash 
 illuminated the brush and trees. He had no fear of pur- 
 suers now, but he was searching for one particular tree, 
 and it was hard to identify in the fitful glare. 
 
 At last he found it, dismounted and tied his horse. 
 Then from the underbrush Glendon dragged a rusty shovel 
 and began to dig. The ground was soft from recent rains, 
 but he paused frequently to wipe the beads of perspiration 
 that mingled with the rain dashing into his eyes. 
 
 "I didn't put it so deep," he muttered, plying the shovel 
 more rapidly. ' ' I wonder if some one else has found it ! ' ' 
 
 A rustling in the trees caused him to straighten up sud- 
 denly and with a startled jump he glared about on all 
 sides. The lightning showed only the waving branches, 
 the pouring rain and the wind-whipped bushes. 
 
 His tongue licked his lips. "God! I wish I had a 
 drink ! My nerve 's all shot to pieces ! " He dug furiously. 
 "It's lucky I caught old Paddy burying this money. 
 That gave me a chance to get the old fool out of the way 
 without suspicion. Even Alpaugh was in the dark about 
 that. He's as big a fool as the rest. Damn 'em. Why 
 didn't they blow out Three-fingered Jack's brains before 
 they left him there!" 
 
 Still he dug, and the rain hammered down while the 
 wind whistled and screamed around him. The shovel 
 struck a deep root of the tree. Something brushed against 
 Glendon 's face. With a scream of fright he dropped the 
 shovel and ran to the snorting horse. Glendon 's eyes star- 
 ing into the darkness pictured Paddy's sardonic face in 
 the bushes, and back of Paddy was old Doctor King, looking 
 at him with infinite pity. Glendon 's arm went across his 
 face as though shielding himself, and his foot was thrust 
 into the stirrup of his saddle. The horse moved a few 
 paces, then Glendon looked back, and jerked violently on 
 the reins. He lifted his fist and shook it at the gloom, 
 shouting wildly, "Damn you! You can't frighten me 
 
328 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 away! I'll have it in spite of you and Heaven and Hell!" 
 
 He leaped from his saddle and grabbed the shovel, curs- 
 ing as he resumed his work until he found the canvass bags 
 with the buried money. Unable to cram the sacks into the 
 saddle pouches, he tore off the strings of the bags and 
 poured the gold into the leather saddle pouches on either 
 side of the horse. Once more he mounted, but as he faced 
 the trail to the Circle Cross he shouted at the flickering 
 shadows, "Damn you ! I've got it !" Then he rode on his 
 way. 
 
 "It'll take four hours yet for any posse to reach the 
 Circle Cross from Willcox," he said, leaning low on the 
 saddle to avoid the lash of the wind and the rain. ' ' There '11 
 be a big flood at Hot Springs. I'll have to leave this gold 
 with Katherine. It's too heavy to pack and too big a 
 risk. I'll take a couple of hours to rest and get ready. 
 Then I can hit the trail for the border. Easy to do after I 
 get away from here and across the Willcox flats. I'll take 
 Fox. He has no brands on him. My saddle 's at the ranch, 
 too — That'll get rid of this horse and saddle — They'll 
 all be looking for this outfit now. "With Fox and some 
 money — I can make my way without any trouble, once I 
 get clear of the flats. I must cross before dawn — or hide 
 in the mountains till tomorrow night, then cross. Sixty 
 miles to the border — then I am safe!" 
 
 A thought of his wife intruded. "I suppose she will 
 balk at keeping the gold," he muttered, "but she will have 
 to do it ! There is no one else I can trust with it. I won 't 
 stand anv nonsense now. She'll have to do what I tell 
 her, by God!" 
 
 He had no fear of Juan, knowing the Mexican's dog- 
 like devotion to Katherine. Beside, the Mexican could 
 not reach any place to give an alarm until after Glendon 
 was well upon his way. Katherine 's exaggerated sense 
 of duty would keep her silent, no matter what might 
 transpire. Everything was propitious. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 329 
 
 His hand went back and patted the wet leather of the 
 saddle-bags that held ten thousand dollars in gold, and 
 his lips twisted in a sneer, "You old fool, Paddy! You 
 thought it was safe!" 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT 
 
 LIMBER, who had been across the Galiuros riding 
 the Sulphur Springs Valley for a couple of days, 
 decided to go home by the way of Willcox instead 
 of cutting over the mountain trail, as he was anxious to 
 hear from Doctor Powell to whom he had written about 
 the hold-up and trial. Powell was in New York intending 
 to sail for Europe within a few days. 
 
 As the cowboy came out of the Chinese restaurant, after 
 having eaten supper, Jack Green, the station agent, hailed 
 him. 
 
 "Hello, Limber! There's been a telegram at the office 
 two days for you, but I hadn't any chance to send it out 
 your way. I guess it'll be like the Irishman's letter, for 
 it was to let you know that the doctor was coming. He 
 arrived this afternoon, and I told him." 
 
 "Is he here ? ' ' asked Limber eagerly. 
 
 "No. lie got a horse at the corral and went right out 
 to Hot Springs. Said he wanted to see you as soon as 
 possible. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Sorry I missed him. I came in thinkin ' I 'd hear from 
 him. So I'll get out as soon as Peanut's had a couple 
 hours' rest." 
 
 They walked across the street together. As Green 
 opened the door of the station, he heard the telegraph 
 instrument calling insistently. 
 
 "Just a minute, till I take this call," he said, seating 
 himself at the table. As the message began coming in 
 rapidly, Green's face was startled. He jumped up as he 
 closed the message, turning to Limber. 
 
 330 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 331 
 
 "The whole bunch of train-robbers and all the other 
 prisoners in the Tombstone jail are loose. Wentz did it. 
 They want a posse to start at once for Hot Springs." 
 
 He and Limber started rapidly. "They think Glendon 
 will try to reach the Circle Cross, and probably others will 
 be with him. I've got to see the constable and Judge at 
 once. ' ' 
 
 Green darted down the street. Limber hurried to the 
 Cowboy 's Rest and saddled Peanut. 
 
 "Goin' to be a big storm," said Buckboard. "Why 
 don't you lay over till mornin', Limber?" 
 
 "I been at the Diamond H," Limber replied as he slipped 
 the headstall over Peanut's ears. "I missed Doctor Powell 
 and want to get out to the ranch tonight." 
 
 He lead his pony from the stall as he spoke. 
 
 "Wait a minute and I'll lend you a slicker," offered 
 Buckboard, disappearing in his sleeping quarters and he- 
 turning with the unwieldy, yellow, water-proof coat. 
 
 "Won't you need it, yourself?" 
 
 ' ' I got another in the bunkhouse. You can send it back 
 when it 's handy. ' ' 
 
 Limber thanked him and tied it across the back of his 
 saddle, glancing up at the threatening sky. "Guess I'll 
 need it before long," he said, riding to the gate. "Much 
 obliged. So long!" 
 
 He turned Peanut 's head to the Point of the Mountains, 
 northwest of town, passing the O T ranch five miles out. 
 Then he struck the road to Hot Springs, which lay thirty- 
 five miles north of Willcox on a road that was totally in- 
 visible, now. Limber did not hesitate to urge his pony 
 into a swift gallop, for he knew he could rely on Peanut's 
 wonderful instinct to carry his rider safely. 
 
 "If we kin reach the Springs before Glendon does," the 
 cowboy spoke to his pony, and the tapering ears went back 
 at the sound of the voice Peanut knew and loved, "We kin 
 warn Glen the posse's comin' so's he kin git away in time. 
 She'd had enough troubles without being thar to see him 
 
332 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 get killed or kill somebody else, Peanut. Thar's goin' to 
 be shootin ' if they find Glen ! ' ' 
 
 Steadily the pony swung along, and the storm beat down 
 on them mercilessly. The constant flashes of lightning re- 
 vealed a stream of running water where the road bed, worn 
 deeply by wagon wheels and hoofs of teams, left a high 
 ridge in the centre. Peanut, with goat-like agility kept 
 on the top of this ridge. It was the only solid ground 
 visible. All else was a swamp. 
 
 The road had never seemed so long to Limber as when at 
 last, the pony slipped down into the mouth of the Hot 
 Springs Canon. 
 
 ' ' Seven miles more, Peanut ! ' ' 
 
 It was the only way to reach the Springs or Circle Cross. 
 During the dry season, there was no water in the bed of the 
 creek, as the Hot Springs Creek seeped into the ground a 
 short distance from the ranch house, and the little stream 
 was usually only two or three feet wide and a few inches 
 deep. Owing to the immense watershed of the canon, a 
 rain of short duration often made crossing impossible. 
 The banks of the creek rose fifteen feet, or more, perpen- 
 dicularly from constant floods, and often these banks were 
 over-running. 
 
 This knowledge was the basis of Limber's hope as well 
 as his anxiety. If he could cross the creek before the flood, 
 that very thing might prove an obstacle to the posse, and 
 give Glendon a chance to get a good start. If the flood was 
 ahead of him, the cowboy knew he would have to wait and 
 lose any opportunity of seeing Glendon first. Then the 
 other men would be there with him. 
 
 He listened intently. As the sound he feared — a 
 smothered roar — reached his ears, he leaned forward in his 
 saddle, and Peanut started with a snort at the unusual 
 touch of the sharp spurs. 
 
 It was a race for life now. Limber knew he must reach 
 the one spot in the canon where his pony could scramble 
 up the sheer embankment to the upper road before the 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 333 
 
 flood could catch them. Stumbling, panting, the pony tore 
 over the rocks and fallen trees that had been washed down 
 in previous floods, and crashed among dead limbs in the 
 darkness. Peanut fell heavily to his knees, but struggled 
 up instantly, while Limber spurred and called, "Yip! 
 Yip! Yip! Peanut! Go on, you rascal!" 
 
 The pony's ears were flattened back. He knew the 
 danger, now. The noise of approaching water grew louder. 
 Watching for the next flash of lightning, Limber's eyes 
 measured the distance between himself and the point 
 where the road struck sharply up the steep incline that led 
 to safety. With the same glance, he saw the wall of seeth- 
 ing water tumbling close to the crossing. Could they reach 
 it in time ? 
 
 The sounds became a deafening roar, and Peanut flagged. 
 Limber leaned over his shoulder and spoke to him, and at 
 the sound of the loved voice, the little pony made another 
 effort. With a convulsive leap he reached the slope of the 
 road and scrambled wildly to safety, then stopped with, 
 low drooping head and quivering limbs. Limber jumped 
 from the saddle and went to the pony's head, putting his 
 arm over the rain-soaked neck, the cowboy stroked the mane 
 and forelock. They could rest now. No living thing could 
 cross that canon until the storm ceased and the flood 
 subsided. , 
 
 As the lightning flashed, Limber watched the flood sweep 
 below, carrying great cottonwood trees like straws, and 
 over-turning immense boulders as if they were marbles. 
 
 Man and pony had ridden against Death that night, and 
 Peanut had won the race. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE 
 
 KATHERINE was looking out the window at the 
 storm-swept canon. Juan had ridden to the San 
 Pedro that morning. He figured that he might 
 work up a trade of two unbroken colts for a gentle work- 
 horse. Then when he was compelled to make a trip to town 
 with the team, Katherine could use her own pony, Fox, 
 to care for the cattle on the range. 
 
 As the fury of the storm increased, she closed the heavy 
 shutters to protect the glass windows from the branches 
 that were broken and flung violently against the little 
 house. The storm on the outside seemed emblematic of 
 her life. Yet she remembered that it would pass and the 
 sun creep gently into the places where the bruised things 
 had been beaten down, and by degrees the beauty would 
 be restored. 
 
 Lighting the lamp, she seated herself at the table and 
 drew a letter toward her. In the stress of events following 
 her husband's illness and Paddy's subsequent murder, the 
 publication of her verses had passed from her memory. 
 Many months had elapsed before Katherine happened to 
 pick up the magazine in which her poem was printed. 
 Like a seed that had lain dormant, waiting the proper sea- 
 son to germinate, rose an impulse to tell the thoughts that 
 surged within her. In this mood she had written a story 
 of the little ranch in the lonely canon, and the things that 
 made life for the woman living there with the old Mexican, 
 the dog and the mountains. 
 
 Hesitatingly, she had sent the story to a magazine; it 
 had been accepted and the editor had written a pleasant 
 note to her, asking for more of her work. The letter opened 
 
 334 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 335 
 
 a world of possibilities. Not that she dreamed of leaping 
 into fame and fortune as a writer; but because it gave her 
 empty life an object. In grasping at a straw, she had 
 found a friendly hand that dragged her from the black 
 waves of despair and pointed a beacon light, encouraging- 
 her to struggle on. The way was no longer lonely ; it was 
 peopled by unknown friends with whom she could share 
 thoughts which had been suppressed for years. 
 
 The legacy received from her aunt would amply provide- 
 for Donnie 's education until he was able to assist himself; 
 she could remain on the ranch with old Juan, caring for 
 the remnant of the Circle Cross herd, which would furnish 
 what they needed, with the help of the garden-patch, 
 chickens and a cow. If she could sell a few stories, Donnie 
 could spend his summer vacations with her. 
 
 "Ten years," she thought, ashamed of the knowledge 
 that it meant peace unspeakable. * ' Ten years — and then ? ' ' 
 
 Forcing the thought from her, she took the second letter 
 from its envelope. It was from Glendon's father, reiterat- 
 ing his offer to take the boy and educate him. The tone 
 of the letter was the same as the first one he had written his 
 son about Donnie. It was a grim, hard letter. Katherine, 
 reading between the lines, felt no resentment ; she realized 
 the old man's keen disappointment in his only son, and 
 her heart cried out in sympathy. 
 
 So she wrote, thanking her husband's father explaining 
 courteously about the legacy providing for the boy's educa- 
 tion, and stating that she would remain at the ranch until 
 such time as her husband returned to it. 
 
 Having sealed the letter, she sat idly listening to the 
 storm, when a knock on the door startled her. She thought 
 there was no one in the neighbourhood except herself and 
 old Chappo at the Hot Springs ranch, and she wondered 
 what could have brought his out in such a night. A second 
 knock sounded before she opened the door, holding it with 
 difficulty against the wind, her eyes blinded by the darkness 
 of the night, and the rain beating across the threshold. 
 
336 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 ' 'Is that you, Chappo?" she called above the noise of 
 the storm. 
 
 "Katherine!" 
 
 Her eyes became tragic and her face white as Powell 
 entered the room. 
 
 "You?" she whispered doubtingly and yet with a little 
 thrill of gladness in her voice. 
 
 He grasped her cold hands, looking eagerly into her face. 
 
 "You poor child!" Only three words, but they seemed 
 to cover her with warmth and protection. Then she re- 
 membered, and drawing her hands from his, sank trembling 
 into a chair, while Powell stood by her side. A great 
 happiness illumined his face, for he had caught the look 
 in her eyes and had heard the note in her voice. 
 
 "I tried to stay away," he said at last. "I thought I 
 could blot you out of my life, but I could not. I was in 
 New York when Limber's letter reached me, telling about 
 the hold-up, trial and conviction. I took the first train 
 home. If the letter had been a day later, I should have 
 been on my way to Europe. You will never know what it 
 meant, picturing you alone here with this new trouble to 
 bear." 
 
 1 ' Don 't ! " pleaded Katherine. ' ' Do you realize what has 
 happened?" 
 
 "I know that the law has taken it course justly," re- 
 plied Powell. "Glendon's conviction is sufficient to justify 
 your appeal for a divorce. No further sacrifice is necessary 
 on your part. Surely you will not hesitate, now?" 
 
 "He has no one else," she answered slowly, "Therefore 
 my obligation is the heavier." 
 
 "No obligation is due a man like him. He has heaped 
 indignity and suffering on you and Donnie. You cannot 
 point one redeeming trait in his character." 
 
 "He is my husband. Only death can cancel that obliga- 
 tion." 
 
 "He is a curse to humanity," Powell's voice vibrated 
 with emotion. "Even should you remain here until he 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 337 
 
 serves his time, it will a mean more hideous life after he 
 returns. Either Donnie will succumb to his father's 
 influence, and you will have two brutes to cope with, or the 
 boy will hate his father, and someday Glendon will kill 
 Donnie or Donnie will kill his father. You have no right 
 to force such a situation on the boy, to face such a future 
 for yourself." 
 
 Katherine stood before him, her hands tightly locked 
 together to control the trembling, she did not answer, but 
 the look in her eyes told that she realized the truth of his 
 words. Powell was overcome with compunction and tender- 
 ness. His hands were laid gently on hers. 
 
 "Please forgive me," he begged. "It maddens me to see 
 you in such trouble and know I am powerless to help you. 
 The only gift I crave of life is the privilege to serve and 
 protect you and Donnie." 
 
 She lifted her eyes to the hands that were reaching out 
 to her, then her gaze rested on his face. 
 
 "Can you understand," she said, "how a hungry beggar 
 feels outside in the storm and cold, looking into a warm 
 room where a banquet of rich food and wine is spread be- 
 fore his eyes? I am starving for a crumb of your love ; yet 
 I must turn away hungry." 
 
 He started toward her with a cry of joy, but she moved 
 farther from him. 
 
 "Do you think I would have told you, if I had not be- 
 lieved I had the strength to turn away?" she asked in a 
 dull voice. "It is my atonement. I tried so hard to be 
 true to him, in spite of everything; but at night you came 
 to me in my dreams, and I lived in another world, till 
 dawn brought me back here again. Oh, why does God let 
 us make such terrible mistakes when He knows we have 
 only one little life to live? I am tired — so tired of strug- 
 gling!" 
 
 Powell knew that it was her moment of weakness, and the 
 temptation was strong upon him to urge her; but he also 
 knew that no happiness would be lasting unless she came 
 
338 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 to him without a shadow of the past falling across their 
 lives. 
 
 "You are right, Katherine," he said, gravely. "I shall 
 not worry you any more. All I ask is that you will remem- 
 ber I am waiting, to help you when you need me." He 
 lifted her hand to his lips and then she watched him pass 
 out into the storm. 
 
CHAPTER FORTY 
 
 1 
 
 "^IIE wind beat the windows and screamed like a 
 living thing in maniacal rage; it struck the door 
 and whipped the trees, tearing away branches and 
 throwing them down the canon. One crash barely died in 
 the distant rumble when another crash succeeded. A 
 cloud-burst added to the wildness of the scene. 
 
 The flashes that lit the huge cliffs about the Circle Cross, 
 revealed a rain-sodden figure mounted on an exhausted, 
 stumbling horse back of the little ranch-house. The horse 
 picked its way uncertainly until it reached the shelter of 
 the stable shed. Glendon slipped stiffly from its back and 
 opening the door, led the animal into an empty stall. The 
 horse stumbled and Glendon gave it a vicious kick as he 
 cursed it. 
 
 Fox stopped munching his hay to poke an inquisitive 
 nose across at the stranger, while Glendon started to un- 
 buckle the saddle-bags. As he lifted them, he saw a saddled 
 horse in the stall on the opposite side of Fox. Cursing his 
 luck, the man tossed the saddle-bags back on the horse he 
 had ridden, and adjusted them hastily. Then he reached 
 up behind the hay at the end of the stable and extracted a 
 bottle of whiskey which he had put there just before his 
 arrest. After taking a couple of copious drinks, he thrust 
 the bottle into his coat pocket and mounted the horse whose 
 stiffened movements told that it was badly foundered. 
 Glendon dug his heels into the heaving sides, and the ani- 
 mal with low hanging head, stumbled wearily through the 
 trees directly back of the house. 
 
 Glendon checked the horse at a point where the dense 
 undergrowth protected him, yet allowed a view of the house 
 
 339 
 
340 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 and stables in the flashes of lightning. He wondered who 
 could be there at that hour, unless Chappo were visiting 
 old Juan. Had the unknown rider intended to remain all 
 night, the strange horse would have been unsaddled. 
 Glendon sat shivering until overcome with curiosity and 
 the knowledge that each moment's delay was dangerous, 
 he dismounted, tied his horse and crept cautiously to the 
 side of the house where he peered through the crevice of a 
 broken window shutter. Possibly some one had already 
 reached the Circle Cross from Willcox, and was now wait- 
 ing to catch him if he appeared. 
 
 Through the shutter he saw Powell and Katherine. The 
 noise of the storm deafened their voices, but the man out- 
 side read the story in their faces. He saw Powell lift 
 Katherine 's hand to his lips. 
 
 Glendon started in fury. He reached for the pistol he 
 had taken from the jail; but remembering that he needed 
 his wife's assistance, decided that his vengence could wait. 
 He would let the man go, but the woman should pay for 
 both. Later Powell should know of it. Glendon 's lips 
 twisted in a vicious smile. 
 
 When Powell started toward the door, Glendon shrank 
 against the adobe wall where the chimney jutted out. The 
 doctor passed him, entered the stable, then Glendon watched 
 him ride swiftly toward the Hot Springs. Peeling secure 
 from other intruders, Glendon returned to the horse and 
 led it to the stable where he unsaddled it. He made his 
 plans. Fox had never been branded, so would not be easily 
 indentified, and with his own saddle he would be fairly 
 safe, once he reached the Mexican border. 
 
 No one would ever suspect Katherine of having the gold, 
 and when he felt safe, she could come to him with it. It 
 was a g@od thing Panchita was out of the way, now. 
 
 He grasped the heavy saddlebags and staggered to the 
 dark and silent house. Tatters, hearing the approach- 
 ing steps, barked fiercely. Glendon twisted the knob, but 
 the door was locked. He knocked sharply. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 341 
 
 1 'One minute," he heard Katherine call. "Is that you, 
 Juan?" 
 
 Glendon did not reply. Then the door opened and 
 Katherine, with a bathrobe over her thin white gown and 
 her bare feet thrust into a pair of shabby little kid slippers, 
 saw her husband, dripping from the rain, brush past her 
 into the room. Tatters ran up but received a kick, while 
 Glendon dropped the gold-laden bags with a dull thud on 
 the floor. 
 
 "Damn that brute!" he snarled. "Make him quit his 
 noise and keep out of my way if you don't want him 
 killed!" 
 
 The collie crept under the bed and Glendon threw off 
 his streaming coat. 
 
 "God! What a night!" 
 
 Katherine stared at him, dazed and uncomprehending. 
 He regarded her with a nasty smile. 
 
 "Well, you don't seem overjoyed to see me," he sneered. 
 "Nice wifely reception I get. Thought I was locked up 
 for good, I suppose. Didn't expect any visitors tonight, 
 eh?" 
 
 The significance of his remark did not penetrate her 
 thoughts. She stood silently looking at him, trying to 
 understand how he was here, waiting his explanation. 
 
 Glendon turned in rage. "What do you mean standing 
 there staring like an idiot?" he demanded. "This is no 
 time to waste. Get a move on you. I want some grub and 
 dry clothes." 
 
 Mechanically, dumbly, she hastened to obey him. Glen- 
 don ate the food that she set before him, then he finished 
 with several drinks from the bottle in his pocket. The 
 warmth of the room began to effect his head, after drink- 
 ing ; it loosened his tongue. The woman who watched him 
 with dead eyes, made no comment. 
 
 "Wentz knocked the deputy over and tied him and 
 opened the jail doors, ' ' he bragged as he ate. ' ' They didn 't 
 find it out for some time, and when they saw us it was so 
 
342 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 dark they could not keep track of me among the rocks. 
 They shot Wentz's horse and he killed himself. Damn 
 him ! It served him right. If he had held his tongue at 
 the trial, Alpaugh and I would have escaped convic- 
 tion. Then we could have helped them all as we promised 
 to do. Alpaugh and Bravo Juan kept together. I've 
 got to keep moving. They got me in the leg, it's only a 
 scratch. ' ' 
 
 He limped across the room and dragged the saddlebags 
 to the table. With trembling hands he unfastened the 
 straps and let the gold flow out in a dull, glowing stream, 
 fingering it caressingly. "Take care of this money until 
 I write to or send word where you can join me with it;" 
 he ordered. "I'm going to cut across to the Mexican 
 border; then work my wa}^ down to South America. Any 
 man speaking Spanish can get along there. It's a country 
 where they don't ask too many questions. There's ten 
 thousand dollars," he ran his hands over the coins. "That 
 will give me a good start down there. I '11 write you under 
 the name of Reese, but not for five or six months. I '11 have 
 to cover my tracks pretty well, or the Federal officers will 
 locate me. I'll take Fox and my own saddle. I don't 
 want Juan to know I'm here tonight; but after I leave, 
 you must start him out to the Rim Rock with the horse I 
 rode tonight. Tell him to hide the saddle and shoot the 
 horse and skin it, and bury the hide. He'll do anything 
 that you ask him, and won't talk." 
 
 "Juan sold your saddle after the trial. We needed 
 money so badly," said the woman slowly. 
 
 "Then I'll take Juan's. I dare not risk using the one 
 I rode tonight, nor the horse, either." 
 
 "Juan is riding his own saddle. He won't be back for 
 several days. He is trying to trade some colts." 
 
 Glendon paced the room cursing his ill-luck as he saw 
 his carefully formed plans disintegrate. He bit his 
 knuckles nervously as he tried to decide what to do. 
 Katherine leaned across the table as Glendon paused and 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 343 
 
 once more ran his fingers through the coins. She looked 
 up and his eyes met hers. 
 
 ''Where did you get that gold, Jim?" she asked quietly. 
 
 "None of your business," he retorted, deceived by her 
 even tones. "It's mine — do you hear? Mine! No one 
 else can claim it!" 
 
 "No one else can claim it," she echoed. Then her eyes 
 widened. "It is Paddy's money!" she cried. 
 
 Glendon shrugged his shoulders. "What of it? He 
 buried his money and every one knew it. He had no one 
 belonging to him. It is Paddy 's money ! Now, what have 
 you got to say about it?" 
 
 ' ' You found that money first and killed him afterwards. ' ' 
 she said tensely. "Oh! I knew there was something 
 wrong when you killed him." She recoiled in horror. 
 
 "I was acquitted," he faced her like a trapped coyote." 
 "No one can prove it wasn't self-defence ! You're my wife 
 and you've got to hold your tongue!" 
 
 Possibly the repugnance in her face stung, for he reeled 
 to her side with an oath. She looked at him unafraid and 
 the knowledge that he had no more power over her goaded 
 him to frenzy. 
 
 His clenched fist was lifted and brought down with a 
 crashing blow in her face. She fell against the sharp edge 
 of the window-ledge, clinging blindly as she struggled to 
 her feet, but he knew she was unconquered. Dragging the 
 pistol from his belt, he hurled the loaded weapon at her. 
 It struck the window casing a few inches above her head, 
 then dropped to the floor, the black composition handle 
 shattered, leaving only the steel rim, but the cartridges 
 failed to explode. 
 
 Glendon glared at her as she stood panting against the 
 wall, her white face contrasting vividly with the blood that 
 oozed from cuts on cheek and lip — the eyes that regarded 
 him held no fear. She knew that death was standing beside 
 her, but it seemed a welcome friend, with outstretched, 
 sheltering arms. 
 
344 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "I'll make you understand that you are my wife," the 
 man started threateningly toward her, his hand reaching" 
 down to pick up the pistol on the floor. Neither of them 
 saw the dog which had been watching from beneath the 
 bed, and now was dragging itself stealthily forth, its lips 
 twitching, its eyes blazing in fury. With a sudden spring, 
 it caught Glendon 's hand in its strong, gleaming teeth. 
 
 The man's curses mingled with deep-throated growls, 
 and as they fought, the woman stood dumb, unable to move. 
 The blood on her face dripped slowly on the white gown. 
 There was a shot, and Glendon rose to his feet, kicking the 
 dog that lay dying on the floor. 
 
 With a cry of pity, Katherine stooped, and the hrute 
 that had given its life in an effort to protect her, lifted its 
 head feebly and licked her hand. Then with its eyes on 
 her face, it gave a convulsive shudder. With quivering 
 lips and trembling hand she laid it down on the floor, rose 
 and faced her husband. 
 
 "Will you do what I tell you?" he demanded. 
 
 "No! You can kill me as you have killed Tatters, but 
 I will not touch that money!" 
 
 He leaped at her, caught her by the throat and flung her 
 violently to the floor. Weak, voiceless, still unconquered, 
 he watched her drag herself again to her feet. He levelled 
 the pistol at her head. She did not flinch as she faced it. 
 
 Glendon thrust it back into the holster. "Damn you! 
 I'll get along without you ; but I won't kill you. I'm going 
 to kill that dude doctor and see how you like that to re- 
 member me by!" 
 
 He poured more liquor, then bending under the weight 
 of the saddle bags, he strode through the door. 
 
 Katherine stood dazed, staring dow T n at the dead dog on 
 the floor, as though her brain had ceased working. Out- 
 side, in a lull of the storm, sounded the sharp beat of hoofs. 
 Glendon was riding past the house. 
 
 "He is taking the road to the Springs, Tatters," she 
 said slowly, her eyes on the dead dog as she spoke to it. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 345 
 
 There were chains on her brain ; — it could not think ; chains 
 on her hands and feet — she could not move. 
 
 A tiny red stream was creeping over the wooden floor 
 toward her and she wondered what she would do when it 
 reached her. Fascinated she watched it, then when it 
 touched the hem of her gown making a stain like those 
 above it, she woke in a wild frenzy of despair. 
 
 "No ! No!" she cried flinging the door open. "I will do 
 anything you wish, Jim! Come back! Come back!" 
 
 But Glendon was gone. The wind tore and lashed the 
 curtains with the gay cretonne bands. It blew out the 
 flame of the lamp and the rain beat down on the bright 
 Navajo rugs and the dead dog lying on the floor. 
 
 The woman ran to the stable. The heavy door banged 
 on broken hinges. She clung to the empty stall and 
 thought she saw her husband riding up to the Hot Springs 
 Ranch. She saw him jump from his horse and knock at 
 the door — Saw Powell open that door, and then — she saw 
 a tiny red stream trickling across the wooden floor. 
 
 "Without stopping to reason that she had no chance 
 against a man on a horse, she turned and faced the storm. 
 The wind whipped her long, dark hair across her face and 
 tore the robe back from the thin white gown. Her slippers, 
 rain-soaked, dropped from her bare feet, and the sharp 
 stones cut the tender flesh. She ran on, unconscious of 
 everything except the knowledge that Powell — the man 
 she loved — was in danger. 
 
 Slowly and more slowly she ran, her breath coming in 
 sharp little gasps that hurt. She staggered a few more 
 fret, then with a tired sigh, sank to the ground, trying with 
 her last conscious thought to remember whether it was 
 Tatters or Doctor Powell lying dead, where the little scarlet 
 thread kept creeping — creeping — creeping — . 
 
o 
 
 CHAPTER FORTY-ONE 
 
 " ^^\ NLY a little way further, Peanut, old boy," Lim- 
 ber encouraged the pony, patting its neck as he 
 swung once more to its back ; and Peanut, know- 
 ing the distance home, started willingly on his way tnrough 
 the storm. 
 
 They were on the main road which led directly to the 
 Hot Springs ranch, but a few feet from the creek-crossing 
 it forked to the Circle Cross. As they neared this Y, the 
 pony jumped and stopped, snorting. Limbed leaped from 
 his saddle and sheltered by Peanut's body, crouched low, 
 holding his pistol ready. When the next flash came, illumi- 
 nating the landscape as brilliantly as though it were mid- 
 day, he slipped the pistol quickly into the holster at his 
 hip and ran to a white heap huddled in the road. 
 
 Limber stooped at the woman's side and held his shaking 
 hand against her heart ; then he opened his flask and forced 
 whiskey between the closed teeth, and chafed the cold hands. 
 There was no response. Hurriedly, he unfastened the 
 yellow slicker he was wearing, and gently wrapped it about 
 the unconscious form. Then, lifting her in his arms, the 
 cowboy mounted his pony, thankful that Doctor Powell 
 was so near. 
 
 The wind blew the woman's hair across his lips, and a 
 wonderful sense of happiness thrilled him. In the flashes 
 he could see her pale face lying against his wet coat, and 
 his heart throbbed with love and tender pity. 
 
 Doctor Powell opened the door in response to Limber's 
 call. A vivid flash showed Peanut with Limber on his 
 back holding Katherine in his arms. 
 
 "What's the matter, Limber?" 
 
 346 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 347 
 
 "I found her at the forks of the road on the ground. 
 She's just fainted, I think," explained the cowboy as he 
 placed the unconscious form in the doctor's arms. 
 
 Chappo ran from the house and took the reins from 
 Limber, leading Peanut to the stable while the two men 
 entered the house. The doctor laid Katherine on the couch 
 and brought restoratives. Limber knelt beside her and 
 gently chafed the cold hands. 
 
 " Glendon 's broke jail at Tombstone with the rest of 
 the bunch. There's a posse, coniin' from Willcox. I was 
 comin' out to let you know; but they can't cross the Creek 
 now. It's runnin' from bank to bank. Peanut just made 
 it by a scratch." 
 
 The light from the lamp fell across the cut and bruised 
 face, and Limber's eyes turned to Powell. 
 
 "Do you think she done that fallin' in the road?" he 
 asked significantly. 
 
 "No," was the positive reply, as Powell studied her 
 face. "It looks like a blow; besides, those are finger marks 
 on her throat. I saw her two hours ago — she was all right 
 then — Juan is away — I left her there alone. 
 
 Limber rose from the side of the couch and looked into 
 Powell's eyes. "Nobody would lay a hand on her exceptin' 
 Glendon." 
 
 Powell uttered no sound, but his face was pale with 
 emotion as the cowboy went on speaking in low, tense voice, 
 
 "They got away at six o'clock, and if Glendon had a 
 good mountain pony and took the old Indian trail, he 
 could 've got to the Circle Cross before now. If I knowed 
 he'd hit her, I'd kill him on sight! She's the nerviest 
 Woman I have ever seen — and the finest." 
 
 Doctor Powell held out his hand and gripped Limber's. 
 
 "You've been a loyal friend to her, Limber." 
 
 "Thar ain't nothin' I wouldn't do for her," said the 
 cowpuncher, simply. "Thar's lines that is drawed between 
 humans, jest as in animals. Glendon wasn't meant for her, 
 noway. ' ' 
 
348 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Understanding each other thoroughly, the two men who 
 loved her sat watching the unconscious woman until her 
 eyes opened slowly, resting curiously on Limber; then as 
 she saw the other man, her expression turned to one of 
 terror. With a cry, she tried to rise, but Powell's hand 
 restrained her. 
 
 "Lie still, " he said quietly. "You are safe." 
 
 She looked up wildly. "Bar the door! Quick!" she 
 cried. "He is coming to kill you!" 
 
 Their first impression that she did not realize what she 
 was saying, vanished as they listened to her story. She 
 did not speak of the blow, nor her refusal to hide away the 
 money, but told them that Glendon had seen the doctor 
 talking with her, and left the house with the avowed inten- 
 tion of killing him. 
 
 "Thar's been plenty time for him to get here ahead of 
 you, Mrs. Glendon," Limber assured her. "He'd a been 
 here long before I found you at the forks of the road, if 
 he was comin'. I guess he was just bluffin' you, and when 
 he found it didn 't work he lit out with the two horses. ' ' 
 
 Powell agreed heartily with Limber, but to calm her 
 fears, the cowboy barred the door. Katherine, succumb- 
 ing to the sedative the doctor administered, relaxed gradu- 
 ally. Her lids closed wearily, but her lips moved, and in 
 half-broken sentences she went over the terrible scene; 
 pleading with her husband for Powell's life, or talking to 
 the dead dog, begging it not to let the little scarlet thread 
 reach her; then she sank into silence, unconscious of all 
 that she had revealed. 
 
 The men's eyes met. They read each other's thoughts. 
 Limber's face was set and white, as, with a nod to the 
 doctor, he rose and tiptoed from the room into the kitchen 
 where Chappo w r as sitting near the stove. 
 
 The cowboy took his pistol from the holster at his hip, 
 and looked at the cylinder. Twisting it between his fingers 
 he slipped the cartridges from it. They were wet from the 
 rain. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 349 
 
 "Got some lard?" he asked Chappo, and when the Mexi- 
 can brought it, Limber greased the cartridges and put them 
 back into the cylinder, then dropped the pistol into the 
 holster of his cartridge belt. A Winchester rifle hung in a 
 leather scabbard on the kitchen wall, and Limber lifted 
 it down. 
 
 Chappo watched him examine the magazine of the gun. 
 
 "Eet is all right," he said. "Eef shoots good." The 
 Mexican's eyes met Limber's. "You go hunting, Leember? 
 Take heein." 
 
 "Yes. Give me some jerky, Chappo. I may not get 
 any game for a couple of days." 
 
 Chappo understood, and hastened to get the stiff strips 
 of sun-dried meat which he put in a small cotton sack 
 and handed to the cowboy, saying, "Good luck, Leember! 
 Shoot straight!" 
 
 "With a grim smile the Mexican saw the cowboy and gun 
 disappear. 
 
 Peanut looked up in suprised reproach as his master 
 reached for the saddle hung on a peg. The pony knew he 
 had well-earned his blanket and bin of oats that night. 
 
 "We've got some more work to do, Peanut," said Limber, 
 throwing the saddle across the pony's back, and Peanut, 
 with a final bite at the oats, turned again to face the storm 
 with his master. The cowboy was sure that Glendon had 
 pushed on toward the border, and not knowing about the 
 gold he was carrying with him, supposed he had taken Fox 
 as a relay horse. This would give Glendon the advantage 
 should the chase be protracted; but, Limber knew that 
 Peanut's nervous energy and staying qualities in the 
 mountains made him equal to any two ordinary horses. 
 
 "We'll follow him till Hell freezes over, Peanut, and 
 we'll sure get him in the end," said the cowpuncher as he 
 rode into the night. 
 
 He did not try to justify himself by recalling that Glen- 
 don was an outlaw, whose capture or death was demanded 
 by the law of the country; he did not remind himself that 
 
350 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Glendon had killed old Paddy and had broken the m> 
 written law of fair play. It was the recollection of the 
 woman with the cut face and finger-marked throat that 
 sent Limber out into the storm. The woman Glendon had 
 tried to drag into the mire of his own infamy as a reward 
 for nine years of loyal devotion ; the woman whom Limber 
 had held in his heart; arid worshipped reverently. 
 
 Peanut slipped on the rain-sodden earth, and Limber, 
 leaning forward in his saddle, kept his Winchester ready 
 as he listened for the faintest indication of Glendon 's 
 presence. Limber did not believe that Glendon had carried 
 out his assertion that he would go to the Hot Springs. 
 Otherwise, he would have been there long before. It was 
 more possible that he had doubled back on his tracks, and 
 struck out through the mountains toward the south, head- 
 ing for the border, in order to cover his trail as much as 
 he could by dawn. He would have to keep well-hidden in 
 the day time. 
 
 Suddenly, from the darkness sounded the shrill neigh of 
 a horse. Limber threw himself on Peanut's neck and 
 reached down, grasping the pony's nose firmly to prevent 
 him from answering. Still keeping a grip on Peanut's 
 nostrils, the cowboy dropped to the ground, and stood back 
 of the pony's shoulder, believing that Glendon had seen 
 him and was creeping on him in the dark. The flashes of 
 lightning were less frequent. The rain and wind raged 
 more furiously. 
 
 Then from the gloom trotted a riderless pony, calling 
 again and again as it approached them. A flash enabled 
 Limber's keen eyes to recognize Fox. With a little nicker 
 of delight, it trotted to Peanut's side and stood rubbing 
 its nose against the other pony's shoulder. Limber saw a 
 weather-beaten saddle and new saddlebags on Fox's back, 
 while a broken halter-rope dangled from the animal's neck. 
 He knew the horse had broken away from Glendon, and was 
 probably making its way back to the Circle Cross, the only 
 home it had ever known. If so, Glendon would follow until 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 351 
 
 he caught it, for he would need the extra horse in his long 
 flight. 
 
 Limber hastily tied the broken halter-rope to the horn 
 of Peanut's saddle, and left the two animals standing in the 
 centre of the road as a decoy, while he crawled to a project- 
 ing clump of brush and slowly wormed his way parallel to 
 the road. He was following Apache tactics, now. A pro- 
 longed flash of quivering, dazzling light, and Limber's 
 half-blinded eyes scanned the brush and trees. Then the 
 rifle leaped to his shoulder and his finger rested on the 
 trigger. 
 
 Down the road he had seen Glendon. At the same time 
 he knew that Glendon had seen him. Back into the brush 
 he slipped lying flat on his face and writhing cautiously 
 forward. There would be no time for a second shot — 
 Glendon was waiting, too. How close was he, now? Inch 
 by inch Limber dragged himself. Somewhere in the night, 
 another man was crawling toward him, gun in hand — The 
 man who had left the marks of his fingers on a woman's 
 throat. God! Would there be no flash of lightning now 
 that he needed just one more. 
 
 It came, as though in answer to his prayer. Dazzling, 
 blinding and with frightful crash as though the whole 
 world had fallen into space and crushed another world to 
 atoms. A sharp tingling pain shot through Limber's 
 muscles, his gun dropped from his hand and exploded; he 
 wondered if Glendon had hit him, but it was rain, not 
 blood that soaked his sleeve. 
 
 He gripped his gun and threw another cartridge into 
 place. Once more he began creeping and waiting. When 
 another flash came, the cowboy lowered his gun, and rose 
 to his feet. At the side of the road ahead of him was an 
 uprooted cottonwood tree. Under it lay a horse and a man. 
 
 Uncertain whether the man was dead or merely stunned, 
 Limber crouched warily in the brush, waiting a tell-tale 
 movement. But the horse and man did not stir. 
 
 Then the cowboy approached and looked down in the 
 
352 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 fitful glare of the flashes, and saw an immovable figure — 
 face distorted with agony — open eves staring unseeing 
 into the storm — clothes across a charred breast — an odour 
 of burnt flesh and singed hair — the body of a dead horse. 
 
 Limber gazed down at the man, his mind filled with con- 
 flicting emotions. He had intended killing Glendon as he 
 would have killed a mad coyote or a rattlesnake, and he 
 would have felt no regret; but, now — 
 
 He raised the dripping hat from his head. Not because 
 of the broken thing that lay at his feet, but in recognition 
 of something higher and more incomprehensible which rules 
 the Universe — with its three unfathomable mysteries, Life, 
 Death and Eternity. 
 
 Replacing his hat, Limber made his way back to the 
 horses and slipped the Winchester into the scabbard which 
 hung from Peanut's saddle. 
 
 "It's worked out all right, Peanut," said the cowboy 
 as he mounted the pony and faced the Hot Springs ranch. 
 "I'm glad I didn't have to kill him. Just the same I'd 
 a done it ruther than let him drag her through Hell another 
 hour. He can't bother her no more, now." 
 
 He stabled Fox and Peanut, then went to the kitchen 
 where Chappo, like a faithful old watchdog, was dozing 
 beside the stove. He started to his feet as Limber entered, 
 but asked no questions when the cowboy, without a word, 
 hung the Winchester on the pegs where he had found it. 
 
 Powell, sitting by the couch in the front room, heard 
 Limber's steps. With a glance at the sleeping woman, he 
 rose softly and went to the door that led into the kitchen. 
 He closed the door and his eyes met Limber's. 
 
 "He's dead," said the cowboy. Then, reading the un- 
 spoken question in the doctor's eyes, he added, "No. It 
 was the lightning done it. A tree fell on him and his 
 horse. 
 
 "Thank God!" said Powell, but his tone was reverent, 
 not jubilant. 
 
 "Is she all right?" asked Limber anxiously. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 353 
 
 "Besting quietly. We'll take her over to Mrs. Traynor 
 in the morning, Limber. She needs a woman friend, now." 
 
 "The Little Lady will look out for her," said the cow- 
 boy. Then he glanced at Chappo, and after a slight hesi- 
 tation continued, "I wish you'd come out and take a look 
 at Peanut's ankle, Doc." 
 
 Powell, catching the peculiar tone, nodded and followed 
 to the barn where the ponies stood contentedly in their 
 stalls. Limber closed the stable door and spoke in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "Glendon was ridin' the horse and saddle he stole in 
 Tombstone. It's a Lazy F pony. The lead-rope on Fox 
 was busted." 
 
 "All right. I'll notify the Lazy F people," Powell 
 replied wondering why Limber thought secrecy necessary. 
 
 "That ain't what's troublin' me. You see when Glen 
 was arrested he rid his own saddle to town with the posse. 
 I was with 'em, and I knowed his saddle. Besides, I 
 bought it from Juan afterwards, when they was hard up 
 for dinero. Mrs. Glendon didn't know I bought it. That 
 saddle's over to the Diamond II and been thar for two 
 months." 
 
 He walked to the corner of the barn and pointed at the 
 saddle he had taken from Fox. 
 
 "That's the saddle that was on Fox," he said slowly. 
 "It belonged to old Doctor King — we all thought the 
 Apaches got it." 
 
 Powell grasped Limber's arm. "You don't think Glen- 
 don killed King, do you?" 
 
 "Thar ain't no way I can see to think he didn't," re- 
 sponded the cowpuncher. "From all we could find out, 
 King and Glendon rid to the forks together and separated. 
 King was goin' down the San Pedro and Glendon to Jack- 
 son's Flats. You can see how easy Glendon could of shot 
 from the upper trail. The bullet went into King's head 
 above the left temple and came out behind the right ear. 
 You seen that yourself. I thought it was kinder queer 
 
354 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 when I heard Mrs. Glendon say the Apaches didn't reach 
 the Circle Cross till noon and you said King had been 
 dead over night. But then I figgered the Indians was 
 snoopin' round that part for a couple of days." 
 
 "What object would Glendon have had?" 
 
 "He'd pick a fight with any one when he was tanked up 
 a bit. You know he always wanted the Hot Springs, and 
 King wouldn't sell it to him. He didn't know the land 
 was patented, and mebbe he figgered that if King was dead 
 it would be easy to jump the Springs. Of course, he didn't 
 know about King makin' any Will, nor that you and the 
 Boss was workin' up a deal with King. That's why Glen- 
 don's had it in for the Diamond H and for you ever since." 
 
 The chain of circumstantial evidence seemed conclusive 
 as forgotten details were recalled. 
 
 "Thar's a heap of gold coins in the saddle bags that was 
 on Fox," Limber went on . "Looks like it was Paddy's 
 money that every one was hunting for. We all knowed that 
 he had thirty-five thousand dollars in gold buried some 
 place around. Thar was twenty-five thousand in that 
 flower-box he guv to Jamie and the Little Lady; and this 
 makes ten more. Padcty scattered it around." 
 
 "I wonder how Glendon happened to locate it?" mused 
 the doctor. 
 
 Limber whirled about. "He located that money before 
 he killed old Paddy! That's why he done it, and Alpaugh 
 stood in with him ! Glendon was too much of a coward to 
 do anythin' exceptin' shoot old men and bully his wife. 
 He was too rotten to live and too damn rotten to die ! But, 
 now what I want to know, Doc, is what are we goin' to 
 do about that saddle and money? The posse will be here 
 soon as the creek falls." 
 
 "Suppose I take charge of it and consult an attorney," 
 suggested Powell after a few minutes' thought. "We have 
 no absolute proof that it belonged to Paddy. As he had no 
 heirs I am rather at sea about the proper procedure." 
 
 "All right. I'm goin' to take that saddle of King's 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 355 
 
 and bury it, ' ' asserted Limber. ' ' Thar am 't no use sboutin ' 
 about it now. Glen's dead and 'twon't do King no good, 
 and Mrs. Glendon's got enough trouble to pack without 
 havin , this extra bunch. " 
 
 Powell returned to the house and told Chappo to go 
 to bed. Out where the brush grew most thickly, Limber 
 dug a deep hole like a small grave, and Doctor King's 
 saddle was covered, while the steadily pouring rain obliter- 
 ated all tell-tale marks of disturbed earth. 
 
 As the hours passed, the thunder grew faint and fainter ; 
 the lightning ceased; the rain fell in a soft patter, like 
 children's voices whispering in the night. A dim, grey 
 light mingled with the darkness of the sky, sleepy chirps 
 and twitters sounded from rain-soaked nests, the pink 
 fingers of Morning reached out and caressed the tips of the 
 mountains. 
 
 Down the canon near the crossing a man stood waiting 
 to guard the woman he loved from knowledge of what had 
 happened in the night. The rushing torrent was fast sub- 
 siding. 
 
 He lifted his head at the sound of galloping hoofs and 
 men's voices, then he turned and looked down at the posse 
 from Willcox. They reached the opposite bank of the 
 stream and let the reins fall loosely on their ponies' necks 
 as they recognized Limber. 
 
 "Hello, Limber! You was lucky to get here last night," 
 called the leader. "We all were stuck at the mouth of the 
 canon till this morning. Seen any signs of Glendon?" 
 
 Limber was among them now. "Yep. He's on the road 
 between here and the Circle Cross," was the answer. 
 
 "All right. Much obliged. Hurry up boys;" but 
 Limber's upheld hand made them pause. 
 
 "You all don't need to hurry. Glen's dead. Lightnin' 
 hit him and his horse. Mrs. Glendon's up here. She's 
 sick and don't know nothin' about it yet. Doctor Powell 
 is goin' to take her over to the Diamond H Ranch this 
 mornin' to Mrs. Traynor." 
 
356 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 "Gosh! It's sure tough on her anyway you put it." 
 
 "Is there anything we can do for her?" asked the leader 
 of the posse. 
 
 ' ' Jest don 't let her know you 're here, and try to manage 
 so's to get Glendon away without her seein' him. That's 
 all." 
 
 "We'll sure do that, Limber. She's a fine woman and 
 we're glad to do anything we can for her. Glendon was no 
 good to any one. Not even to himself." 
 
 "Juan is away with the Circle Cross team, but I'll send 
 Chappo down with the wagon," were Limber's last words 
 as the posse rode slowly down the canon. 
 
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO 
 
 A YEAR and a half passed by. Katherine sitting in 
 her room at the Diamond H Ranch, was thinking 
 of the many changes that had come into her life. 
 Doctor Powell and Limber had brought her to Mrs. 
 Traynor, and for long weeks afterward they had battled 
 untiringly to save the life that threatened to slip away. 
 With tender, encouraging words they fought the reaction 
 of despair; but it was Nell who suggested sending for 
 Donnie; Nell, who laid her baby boy in Katherine 's arms; 
 Nell, whose constant watchfulness and loving little caresses, 
 finally brought answering smiles to Katherine 's pale lips. 
 
 Donnie and Jamie at once struck up a friendship akin to 
 David and Jonathan, and when the two lads would wake 
 the ranch with their happy laughter — it was tonic to 
 Katherine 's bruised and aching heart. 
 
 For a long time she had believed that Glendon had 
 escaped to Mexico; but at last Nell told her the truth. 
 Donnie knew only that his father had been killed by light- 
 ning in a storm. Over at the Hot Springs, work was being 
 pushed rapidly on the Sanitarium, and Limber and Powell 
 divided their time between the two places. 
 
 There had been a "surprise party' 7 as Bronco called it, 
 when a couple of weeks previously, Traynor and Powell had 
 called the four cowboys into the office, and handed each one 
 an official envelope addressed by name. Upon opening it, 
 they discovered that the Hot Springs, P L, Diamond H and 
 Circle Cross ranches had been incorporated into the 
 "Galiuro Cattle Corporation," Traynor as president; 
 Powell, secretary and treasurer; and Limber, general 
 
 357 
 
358 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 manager. Bronco, Roarer and Holy were astounded to re- 
 ceive stock to the value of five thousand dollars; but 
 Limber's envelope held, not only the five thousand dollars 
 worth of stock, like the other boys; but also his note which 
 he had given Traynor in return for the half interest in the 
 PL herd. Limber looked at it puzzled, then he saw across 
 the face of the note, the endorsement, "Paid in full with 
 compound interest in loyalty and devotion." Beneath 
 these words were the signatures of Allan Traynor, Nell 
 Traynor and Cuthbert Powell. 
 
 The cowpuncher tried to speak, but was unable to utter 
 a word. In silence he gripped Traynor 's hand. 
 
 That was an uproarious evening on the Diamond H. The 
 boys and old Fong surrounded the foreman in the bunk- 
 house after dinner. Fong, once again, had fashioned a 
 huge cake. When it was set down on the wooden table, 
 the Chinaman lifted the tissue paper that veiled it, and 
 the boys let out a wild whoop. A five-strand fence bounded 
 the edge of the cake; a small white cabin loomed in the 
 centre, with a desperate attempt at a cow in icing beside it. 
 A naturalist might have scorned the cow, but there was no 
 mistaking the Diamond H brand in red icing that was the 
 finishing touch on the animal's hip. 
 
 The boys clapped Fong on the back till his pigtail 
 squirmed like an eel, and his grin threatened to split the 
 lower part of his face. 
 
 Traynor standing outside watched the proceeding, then 
 went over to tell Nell and Katherine. 
 
 "Poor Limber had to make a speech," he chuckled. 
 "Fong joined with the rest, and they kept at him till he 
 had to say something to get peace. Say, Nell, I wish you 
 could have seen him! He stood up, looked at them, got 
 red in the face, opened his mouth, shut it, then burst out, 
 "You're the orneriest bunch of boys in Arizona Terri- 
 tory, and if you don't quit pesterin' me, I'm goin' to fire 
 the whole outfit the very first thing I do!" 
 
 "Poor Limber!" laughed Nell, but the laugh was very 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 359 
 
 tender. "They do worry him; but he knows they would 
 give their lives for him ! ' ' 
 
 Like a panorama, these memories flitted swiftly before 
 the eyes of Katherine Glendon, obliterating the darker days 
 of her life. There was no bitterness now. Like the terrible 
 storm of the canon, they had passed away forever, and 
 over the broken places bloomed beautiful flowers ; a message 
 of forgiveness. 
 
 The bit of lace she was sewing on a dress for Nell's baby, 
 slipped from her hands, and her eyes wandered through the 
 open door to the snow-cap of Mt. Graham across the Valley. 
 
 At first, Powell had hesitated to allow her return to the 
 Hot Springs to live, dreading the effect of those terrible 
 memories upon their happiness. When he told her of this, 
 and that he would find a partner to live at the place, she 
 had convinced him that her happiness lay helping him 
 with his work at the Springs ; so it had been decided. Now, 
 that the project was nearing completion, Powell received 
 offers from many sources, so that he might carry out the 
 plans on the most extensive scale. The money found in 
 the saddle-bags the night Glendon died, had been also added 
 to the funds, after communication and consultation with 
 proper legal authority. This provided for the maintenance 
 of additional children. 
 
 All the plans had been discussed between Powell, 
 Traynor, Nell and Katherine, and the two women had 
 made many suggestions the men overlooked. There were 
 even toys, games, books with wonderful fairy tales, already 
 unpacked at the Springs. 
 
 Two weeks had been passed there happily, arranging, 
 sorting and working together. Donnie and Jamie, with 
 their ponies and Juan and Chappo as guides, had explored 
 trails and planned many future adventures. The two old 
 Mexicans were as happy as children, and at night, when 
 they related tales of Mexico, or Chappo told of his cap- 
 tivity among the Apaches, the boys felt that life could hold 
 no more fascinating experiences. 
 
360 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Katherine's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of 
 steps. She rose quickly and turned to the open door. A 
 pink Rambler rose in full bloom twined above the porch, 
 and a puff of wind caught the blossoms and showered the 
 fragrant petals over her as she held out her hands to wel- 
 come the man she loved. He looked at her with happy 
 eyes and saw — no longer a vague dream — a living, glorious 
 reality, smiling with no shadow on her beautiful face, his 
 Lady of the Pool. 
 
 The rose leaves fell softly, about them. "See, dearest," 
 he said, "it is a symbol of our future. The roses are shed- 
 ding their petals on your path, so that not even the tiniest 
 pebble shall bruise your feet!" 
 
 She smiled at him, her eyes misty with happiness, then 
 together they entered the room, to discuss their plans. 
 
 "I've got to have a talk with Donnie today," said Powell. 
 "I hope he will understand." 
 
 They heard the noise of ponies dashing into the stable, 
 the laughter of happy voices. Like a small cyclone, 
 Donnie rushed into the room and faced Powell in boyish 
 delight. 
 
 "Is the Sanitarium almost done?" he asked breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 "Finished, at last!" Powell's arm was across the lad's 
 shoulder. He smiled into ' the glowing, upturned face, 
 thankful that it bore no resemblance to Glendon. Donnie 
 was bis mother in every feature. "The first children will 
 be here next month ! ' ' 
 
 "I bet they'll get good and well after we have them 
 awhile," prophesied Donnie. "You know, you promised 
 I could be your partner." 
 
 "Yes, old man! I want you to study so that when you 
 grow up you can work with me. I'm going to take you 
 over to the Springs so you can start your studies very soon. 
 How will that suit you ? ' ' 
 
 The boy's face clouded. He glanced from Powell to 
 his mother. 
 
THE LONG DIM TRAIL 361 
 
 "I can't leave Marmee alone. I'm her Knight, and the 
 only one she 's got to look out for her, now. ' ' 
 
 "How abont taking her over with us?" suggested Powell. 
 
 "Oh, will you?" Donnie's face glowed with delight. 
 "Marmee, you will go, won't you?" 
 
 The doctor laid his hands on the boy's shoulders and 
 looked at him seriously. "Donnie, would you let me be 
 your father, so that I can take care of your mother and you, 
 and we all be partners as long as we live ? ' ' 
 
 The child's startled eyes wandered from the man to the 
 woman. For a brief space he made no reply. Then fling- 
 ing his arms about his mother's neck, he clung to her in the 
 first pang of renunciation. The eyes that looked at him 
 were very tender. 
 
 With a strange little dignity, he drew himself up and 
 held out his hand to the doctor, saying, "I'm awful glad 
 she likes you." The voice trembled, the lips were un- 
 certain, a lump hurt in his throat. Donnie was afraid that 
 he was going to cry. He was too hip: to cry now — his 
 shoulders squared. Quickly, he turned and left the room. 
 The man and woman watched the pathetic little figure, 
 with drooping head, pass the window. 
 
 "He will understand soon that I am not going to take you 
 away from him," Powell's voice was gentle, "but I know 
 how it hurts at first. 
 
 Drawing some letters from his pocket, he seated himself 
 beside Katherine on the couch. "These are from the 
 children and the matron who will travel with them and 
 help care for them at the Springs," he explained. 
 
 Together they read misspelled words scrawled in crude 
 characters. One child wanted to know if he could have a 
 real, live chicken; another asked nothing but a chance to 
 see trees and places where 'the cops don't make you keep 
 off;' a third begged permission to bring his cat, Nigger, 
 "becoz Nigger ain't got no one to luv him but me — becoz he 
 has got a crooked tail and one eye's gone, but I luv him and 
 he luvs me and he'll be lonesome after I go way." 
 
362 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 Katherine remembered the dog that had been her sole 
 companion so many hours — the dog that Limber had buried 
 in a little grave at the Circle Cross. 
 
 "Of course, Nigger is coming?" she laughed with a catch 
 in her voice. 
 
 "A special invitation has already gone for him, and the 
 matron is authorized to buy a basket for Nigger's comfort ;" 
 was the answer. 
 
 Katherine was silent for a moment, and Powell leaned 
 toward her. His hand lifted her face gently, "Sweetheart, 
 what are your thoughts?" 
 
 Her eyes were dim and her voice trembled, " 'And a 
 Knight shall come that shall have a head of gold, the look 
 of a lion, a heart of steel, conditions without weakness, the 
 valour of a man, and faith and belief in God. And he 
 shall be the best Knight in the world.' " 
 
 Powell's arms slipped about her and he drew her close. 
 "May I prove worthy to be your Knight for all the days 
 of my life, dear Lady of the Pool!" 
 
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE 
 
 ONLY the Galiuros knew that a pinto pony had 
 trodden unbroken trails through the night, until it 
 reached a spot where the tangled growth of brush 
 thinned and ended on a high ledge overlooking the undu- 
 lating flat of the Sulphur Springs range. 
 
 The mysterious beauty of coming dawn merged with 
 dying starlight, where faint shadows outlined the rugged 
 peaks of the Grahams across the broad Valley. Above them 
 all Mt. Graham lifted its glorious, snow-capped head. Un- 
 conquered, unscathed by the storms of centuries past, it 
 gazed steadfastly at the sky above it, while the world slept 
 at its feet. 
 
 Limber sat on the back of the pinto pony. His grey 
 eyes shone with a wonderful light, for the strength of his 
 loved mountains had crept into his heart during the long 
 hours of his silent battle. Out of the storm and turmoil, 
 the trail had led to peace. 
 
 A faint rustling sounded sibilantly. It was a vagrant, 
 gossiping breeze telling the leaves and grasses that a new 
 day had been born. 
 
 Yesterday, with its joys and sorrows, its ambitions and 
 disappointments, was dead. Its ghost floated into the clear 
 blue sky that smiled down between the drifting clouds. 
 
 Today came laughing over the mountains. Her gold- 
 shod feet twinkled as she ran. The sunbeam in her hand 
 gleamed like a magic wand, transmuting each thing to 
 dazzling beauty. It reached a little pinto pony standing 
 on an overhanging ledge. Like the flash of a golden lance, 
 the sunbeam rested on the shoulder of the man, who craved 
 
 363 
 
364 THE LONG DIM TRAIL 
 
 no greater privilege than to give all, and ask nothing in 
 return. 
 
 His head was bare. The sunlight touched his upturned 
 face and the tender smile on his lips. 
 
 "God bless her, and make her happy," he whispered 
 softly. 
 
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