THE 
 NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 RIDGWELL CULLUM
 
 He took her in his powerful arms and drew her to his breast
 
 The Night-Riders 
 
 A Romance of Early Montana 
 
 By 
 
 RIDGWELL CULLUM 
 
 Author of "The Watchers of the Plains," "The 
 
 Sheriff of Dyke Hole," "The Trail of the 
 
 Axe," "The One-Way Trail," etc. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1913, by 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 Published February, 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Printed in U. S. A.
 
 Contents 
 
 I. IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES . . 9 
 
 II. MOSQUITO BEND 26 
 
 III. THE BLIND MAN 46 
 
 IV. THE NIGHT-RIDERS 68 
 
 V. TRESLER BEGINS His EDUCATION ... 82 
 
 VI. THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR . . .'104 
 
 VII. WHICH DEALS WITH THE MATTER OF DRINK 1 27 
 
 VIII. JOE NELSON INDULGES IN A LITTLE MATCH- 
 MAKING . . . . . 141 
 
 IX. TRESLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER ; THE 
 
 LADY JEZEBEL IN A FREAKISH MOOD . 157 
 
 X. A WILD RIDE 177 
 
 XI. THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS . .192 
 
 XII. THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM . .213 
 
 XIII. THE BEARDING OF JAKE .... 232 
 
 XIV. A PORTENTOUS INTERVIEW .... 248 
 XV. AT WILLOW BLUFF . . . . . 263 
 
 XVI. WHAT LOVE WILL Do . . . .285 
 
 XVII. THE LIGHTED LAMP 301 
 
 XVIII. THE RENUNCIATION . . . . . 315 
 
 XIX. HOT UPON THE TRAIL . . . . 332
 
 6 CONTENTS 
 
 XX. BY THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP . . . 349 
 
 XXI. AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S .... 364 
 
 XXII. THE PURSUIT OF RED MASK . . 3 81 
 
 XXIII. A RETURN TO THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES 395 
 
 XXIV. ARIZONA ....... 4 12
 
 Illustrations 
 
 He Took Her in His Powerful Arms and Drew Her 
 
 to His Breast . . . . . Frontispiece 
 
 A Moment Later He Beheld Two Horsemen . 
 
 Facing page 74 
 
 Left Alone with her Patient, She had Little to Do 
 
 but Reflect .... Facing page 302
 
 The Night-Riders 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 
 
 FORKS SETTLEMENT no longer occupies its (dace 
 upon the ordnance map of the state of Montana. At 
 least not the Forks Settlement the one which nestled 
 in a hollow on the plains, beneath the shadow of the 
 Rocky Mountain^ It is curious how these little places 
 do contrive to slip off the map in the course of time. 
 There is no doubt but that they do, and are wholly for- 
 gotten, except, perhaps, by those who actually lived or 
 visited there. It is this way with all growing countries, 
 and anywhere from twenty to thirty years ago Mon- 
 tana was distinctly a new country. 
 
 It was about '85 that Forks Settlement enjoyed the 
 height of its prosperity a prosperity based on the sup- 
 ply of dry-goods and machinery to a widely scattered 
 and sparse population of small ranchers and farmers. 
 These things brought it into existence and kept it afloat 
 for some years. Then it gradually faded from exist- 
 ence just as such places do. 
 
 When John Tresler rode into Forks he wondered 
 what rural retreat he had chanced upon. He didn't 
 wonder in those words, his language was much more 
 derogatory to the place than that
 
 io THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 It was late one afternoon when his horse ambled 
 gently on to the green patch which served Forks as a 
 market-place. He drew up and looked around him 
 for some one to give him information. The place was 
 quite deserted. It was a roasting hot day, and the 
 people of Forks were not given to moving about much 
 on hot days, unless imperative business claimed them. 
 As there were only two seasons in the year when such 
 a thing was likely to happen, and this was not one of 
 them, no one was stirring. 
 
 The sky was unshaded by a single cloud. Tresler 
 was tired, stiff, and consumed by a sponge-like thirst, 
 for he was unused to long hours in the saddle. And 
 he had found a dreary monotony in riding over the 
 endless prairie lands of the West. 
 
 Now he found himself surrounded by an uncertain 
 circle of wooden houses. None of them suggested 
 luxury, but after the heaving rollers of grass-land they 
 suggested companionship and life. And just now that 
 was all the horseman cared about. 
 
 He surveyed each house in turn, searching for a 
 single human face. And at last he beheld a window 
 full of faces staring curiously at him from the far side 
 of the circle. It was enough. Touching his jaded 
 horse's flanks he rode over toward it. 
 
 Further life appeared now in the form of a small man 
 who edged shyly round the angle of the building and 
 stood gazing at him. The stranger was a queer figure. 
 His face was as brown as the surface of a prairie trail 
 and just as scored with ruts. His long hair and flow- 
 ing beard were the color of matured hay. His dress
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 11 
 
 was simple and in keeping with his face ; moleskin 
 trousers, worn and soiled, a blue serge shirt, a shabby 
 black jacket, and a fiery handkerchief about his neck, 
 while a battered prairie hat adorned the back of his 
 head. 
 
 Tresler pulled his horse up before this welcome vision 
 and slid stiffly to the ground, while the little man 
 slanted his eyes over his general outfit. 
 
 " Is this Forks Settlement ? " the newcomer asked, 
 with an ingratiating smile. He was a manly looking 
 fellow with black hair and steel-blue eyes ; he was 
 dressed in a plain Norfolk jacket and riding kit. He 
 was not particularly handsome, but possessed a strong, 
 reliant face. 
 
 The stranger closed his eyes in token of acquies- 
 cence. 
 
 " Ur-hum," he murmured. 
 
 " Will you point me out the hotel ?" 
 
 The other's eyes had finally settled themselves on 
 the magnificent pair of balloon-shaped corduroy riding- 
 breeches Tresler was wearing, which had now resettled 
 themselves into their natural voluminous folds. 
 
 He made no audible reply. He was engrossed with 
 the novel vision before him. A backward jerk of the 
 head was the only sign he permitted himself. 
 
 Tresler looked at the house indicated. He felt in 
 some doubt, and not without reason. The place was 
 a mere two-storied shanty, all askew and generally un- 
 promising. 
 
 " Can I that is, does the proprietor take er 
 guests?" he asked.
 
 12 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Guess Carney takes most anything" came the easy 
 reply. 
 
 The door of the hotel opened and two men came out, 
 eyeing the newcomer and his horse critically. Then 
 they propped themselves in leisurely fashion against 
 the door-casing, and chewed silently, while they gazed 
 abroad with marked unconcern. 
 
 Tresler hazarded another question. He felt strange 
 in this company. It was his first real acquaintance 
 with a prairie settlement, and he didn't quite know 
 what to expect. 
 
 " I wonder if there is any one to see to my horse," 
 he said with some hesitation. 
 
 " Hitch him to the tie- post an' ast inther'," observed 
 the uncommunicative man, pointing to a post a few 
 yards from the door, but without losing interest in the 
 other's nether garments. 
 
 " That sounds reasonable." 
 
 Tresler moved off and secured his horse and loosened 
 the saddle-girths. 
 
 " Pardon me, sir," he said, when he came back, his 
 well-trimmed six feet towering over the other's five feet 
 four. " Might I ask whom I have the pleasure of ad- 
 dressing ? My name is John Tresler ; I am on my 
 way to Mosquito Bend, Julian Marbolt's ranch. A 
 stranger, you see, in a strange land. No doubt you 
 have observed that already," he finished up good- 
 naturedly. 
 
 But the other's attention was not to be diverted from 
 the interesting spectacle of the corduroys, and he an- 
 swered without shifting his gaze.
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 13 
 
 " My name's Ranks gener'ly called ' Slum.' 
 Howdy." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Ranks " 
 
 " Gener'ly called ' Slum,' " interrupted the other. 
 
 " Mr. Slum, then " Tresler smiled. 
 
 " Slum ! " 
 
 The man's emphasis was marked. There was no 
 cheating him of his due. " Slum " was his sobriquet 
 by the courtesy of prairie custom. " Ranks " was 
 purely a paternal heirloom and of no consequence at all. 
 
 " Well, Slum," Tresler laughed, " suppose we go 
 and sample Carney's refreshments. I'm tired, and 
 possess a thirst." 
 
 He stepped toward the doorway and looked back. 
 Mr. Ranks had not moved. Only his wondering eyes 
 had followed the other's movements. 
 
 "Won't you join me?" Tresler asked. Then, 
 noting the fixed stare in the man's eyes, he went on 
 with some impatience, "What the dickens are you 
 staring at?" And, in self-defense, he was forced into 
 a survey of his own riding-breeches. 
 
 Slum looked up. A twinkle of amusement shone 
 beneath his heavy brows, while a broad grin parted the 
 hair on his face. 
 
 " Oh, jest nothin'/' he said amiably. " I wer' kind 
 o' figgerin' out what sort of a feller them pants o' yours 
 wus made for." He doused the brown earth at his 
 feet with tobacco juice. Then shaking his head 
 thoughtfully, a look of solemn wonder replaced the 
 grin. " Say," he added, "but he must 'a' bin a dandy 
 chunk of a man."
 
 14 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Tresler was about to reply. But a glance at Mr. 
 Ranks, and an audible snigger coming from the door- 
 way, suddenly changed his mind. He swung round 
 to face a howl of laughter ; and he understood. 
 
 " The drinks are on me," he said with some chagrin. 
 " Come on, all of you. Yes, I'm a ' tenderfoot.' " 
 
 And it was the geniality of his reply that won him a 
 place in the society of Forks Settlement at once. In 
 five minutes his horse was stabled and cared for. In 
 five minutes he was addressing the occupants of the 
 saloon by their familiar nicknames. In five minutes 
 he was paying for whisky at an exorbitant price. In 
 five minutes well, he sniffed his first breath of prairie 
 habits and prairie ways. 
 
 It is not necessary to delve deeply into the characters 
 of these citizens of Forks. It is not good to rake bad 
 soil, the process is always offensive. A mere outline is 
 alone necessary. Ike Carney purveyed liquor. A lit- 
 tle man with quick, cunning eyes, and a mouth that 
 shut tight under a close-cut fringe of gray moustache. 
 "Shaky" Pindle, the carpenter, was a sad-eyed man 
 who looked as gentle as a disguised wolf. His big, 
 scarred face never smiled, because, his friends said, it 
 was a physical impossibility for it to do so, and his 
 huge, rough body was as uncouth as his manners, and 
 as unwieldy as his slow-moving tongue. Taylor, other- 
 wise " Twirly," the butcher, was a man so genial and 
 rubicund that in five minutes you began to wish that 
 he was built like the lower animals that have no means 
 of giving audible expression to their good humor, or, 
 if they have, there is no necessity to notice it except by
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 15 
 
 a well-directed kick. And Slum, quiet, unsophisticated 
 Slum, shadier than the shadiest of them all, but a man 
 who took the keenest delight in the humors of life, and 
 who did wrong from an inordinate delight in besting 
 his neighbors. A man to smile at, but to avoid. 
 
 These were the men John Tresler, fresh from Har- 
 vard and a generous home, found himself associated 
 with while he rested on his way to Mosquito Bend. 
 
 Ike Carney laid himself out to be pleasant. 
 
 " Goin' to Skitter Bend?" he observed, as he handed 
 his new guest the change out of a one hundred dollar 
 bill. "Wai, it's a tidy layout; ninety-five dollars, 
 mister ; a dollar a drink. You'll find that c'rect best 
 ranch around these parts. Say," he went on, " the ol' 
 blind hoss has hunched it together pretty neat. I'll 
 say that." 
 
 " Blind mule," put in Slum, vaulting to a seat on the 
 bar. 
 
 "Mule?" questioned Shaky, with profound scorn. 
 " Guess you ain't worked around his layout, Slum. 
 Skunk's my notion of him. I 'lows his kickin's most 
 like a mule's, but ther' ain't nothin' more to the like- 
 ness. A mule's a hard-workin', decent cit'zen, which 
 ain't ofT'n said o' Julian Marbolt." 
 
 Shaky swung a leg over the back of a chair and sat 
 down with his arms folded across it, and his heavy 
 bearded chin resting upon them. 
 
 " But you can't expect a blind man to be the essence 
 of amiability," said Tresler. "Think of his condition." 
 
 " See here, young feller," jerked in Shaky, thrusting 
 his chin-beard forward aggressively. " Condition ain't
 
 16 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 to be figgered on when a man keps a great hulkin', 
 bulldozin' swine of a foreman like Jake Harnach. Say, 
 them two, the blind skunk an' Jake, ken raise more 
 hell in five minutes around that ranch than a tribe o' 
 neches on the war-path. I built a barn on that place 
 last summer, an' I guess I know." 
 
 " Comforting for me," observed Tresler, with a laugh. 
 
 " Oh, you ain't like to git his rough edge," put in 
 Carney, easily. 
 
 "Guess you're payin' a premium?" asked Shaky. 
 
 " I'm going to have three years' teaching." 
 
 "Three years o' Skitter Bend?" said Slum, quietly. 
 " Guess you'll learn a deal in three years o' Skitter 
 Bend." 
 
 The little man chewed the end of a cigar Tresler had 
 presented him with, while his twinkling eyes exchanged 
 meaning glances with his comrades. Twirly laughed 
 loudly and backed against the bar, stretching out his 
 arms on either side of him, and gripping its moulded 
 edge with his beefy hands. 
 
 "An' you're payin' fer that teachin' ?" the butcher 
 asked incredulously, when his mirth had subsided 
 
 " It seems the custom in this country to pay for 
 everything you get," Tresler answered, a little shortly. 
 
 He was being laughed at more than he cared about. 
 Still he checked his annoyance. He wanted to know 
 something about the local reputation of the rancher he 
 had apprenticed himself to, so he fired a direct question 
 in amongst his audience. 
 
 " Look here," he said sharply. " What's the game? 
 What's the matter with this Julian Marbolt ? "
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 17 
 
 He looked round for an answer, which, for some min- 
 utes, did not seem to be forthcoming. 
 
 Slum broke the silence at last. " He's blind," he 
 said quietly. 
 
 " I know that," retorted Tresler, impatiently. " It's 
 something else I want to know." 
 
 He looked at the butcher, who only laughed. He 
 turned on the saloon-keeper, who shook his head. Fi- 
 nally he applied to Shaky. 
 
 " Wai," the carpenter began, with a ponderous air of 
 weighing his words. " I ain't the man to judge a fel- 
 ler offhand like. I 'lows I know suthin' o' the blind 
 man o' Skitter Bend, seein' I wus workin' contract fer 
 him all last summer. An' wot I knows is nasty. I've 
 see'd things on that ranch as made me git a tight grip 
 on my axe, an' long a' mighty hard to bust a few heads 
 in. I've see'd that all-fired Jake Harnach, the foreman, 
 hammer hell out o' some o' the hands, wi' tha' blind 
 man standin' by jest as though his gummy eyes could 
 see what was doin', and I've watched his ugly face 
 workin' wi' every blow as Jake pounded, 'cos o' the 
 pleasure it give him. I've see'd some o' those fellers 
 wilter right down an' grovel like yaller dorgs at their 
 master's feet. I've see'd that butcher-lovin' lot handle 
 their hosses an' steers like so much dead meat an' 
 wuss'n. I've see'd hell around that ranch. 'An' why 
 for,' you asks, 'do their punchers an' hands stand it?' 
 ' 'Cos,' I answers quick, ' ther' ain't a job on this coun- 
 tryside fer 'em after Julian Marbolt's done with 'em.' 
 That's why. 'Wher' wus you workin' around before?' 
 asks a foreman. 'Skitter Bend,' says the puncher.
 
 1 8 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 ' Ain't got nothin' fer you,' says the foreman quick ; 
 ' guess this ain't no butcherin' bizness ! ' An' that's 
 jest how it is right thro' with Skitter Bend," Shaky 
 finished up, drenching the spittoon against the bar with 
 consummate accuracy. 
 
 " Right dead right," said Twirly, with a laugh. 
 
 " Guess, mebbe, you're prejudiced some," suggested 
 Carney, with an eye on his visitor. 
 
 " Shaky's taken to book readin'," said Slum, gently. 
 " Guess dime fiction gits a powerful holt on some 
 folk." 
 
 " Dime fiction y'rself," retorted Shaky, sullenly. 
 " Mebbe young Dave Steele as come back from ther* 
 with a hole in his head that left him plumb crazy ever 
 since till he died, 'cos o' some racket he had wi' Jake 
 mebbe that's out of a dime fiction. Say, you git 
 right to it, an' kep on sousin' whisky, Slum Ranks. 
 You ken do that you can't tell me 'bout the blind 
 man." 
 
 A pause in the conversation followed while Ike dried 
 some glasses. The room was getting dark. It was a 
 cheerless den. Tresler was thoughtfully smoking. He 
 was digesting and sifting what he had heard ; trying 
 to separate fact from fiction in Shaky's story. He felt 
 that there must be some exaggeration. At. last he 
 broke the silence, and all eyes were turned on him. 
 
 " And do you mean to say there is no law to protect 
 people on these outlying stations ? Do you mean to 
 tell me that men sit down quietly under such dastardly 
 tyranny ? " His questions were more particularly di- 
 rected toward Shaky.
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 19 
 
 " Law ? " replied the carpenter. " Law ? Say, we 
 don't rec'nize no law around these parts not yet. 
 Mebbe it's comin', but I 'lows ther's jest one law at 
 present, an' that we mostly carries on us. Oh, Jake 
 Harnach's met his match 'fore now. But 'tain't frekent. 
 Yes, Jake's a big swine, wi' the muscle o' two men ; 
 but I've seen him git downed, and not a hund'ed mile 
 from wher' we're settin'. Say, Ike," he turned to the 
 man behind the bar, " you ain't like to fergit the night 
 Black Anton called his ' hand.' Ther' ain't no bluff to 
 Anton. When he gits to the bizness end of a gun it's 
 best to get your thumbs up sudden." 
 
 The saloon-keeper nodded. " Guess there's one 
 man who's got Jake's measure, an' that's Black Anton." 
 
 The butcher added a punctuating laugh, while Slum 
 nodded. 
 
 " And who's Black Anton ? " asked Tresler of the 
 saloon-keeper. 
 
 " Anton ? Wai, I guess he's Marbolt's private hoss 
 keeper. He's a half-breed. French-Canadian ; an' 
 tough. Say, he's jest as quiet an' easy you wouldn't 
 know he was around. Soft spoken as a woman, an' 
 jest about as vicious as a rattler. Guess you'll meet 
 him. An' I 'lows he's meetable till he's riled." 
 
 " Pleasant sort of man if he can cow this wonderful 
 Jake," observed Tresler, quietly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, pleasant 'nough," said Ike, mistaking his 
 guest's meaning. 
 
 " The only thing I can't understand 'bout Anton," 
 said Slum, suddenly becoming interested, " is that he's 
 earnin' his livin' honest. He's too quiet, an' an' iley.
 
 20 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 He sort o' slid into this territory wi'out a blamed cit'zen 
 of us knowin'. We've heerd tell of him sence from 
 'crost the border, an' the yarns ain't nice. I don't 
 figger to argue wi' strangers at no time, an' when 
 Anton's around I don't never git givin' no opinion till 
 he's done talkin', when I mostly find mine's the same 
 as his." 
 
 " Some folks ain't got no grit," growled Shaky, con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 " An' some folk 'a' got so much grit they ain't got 
 no room fer savee," rapped in Slum sharply. 
 
 " Meanin' me," said Shaky, sitting up angrily. 
 
 " I 'lows you've got grit," replied the little man 
 quietly, looking squarely into the big man's eyes. 
 
 "Gotoh " 
 
 " Guess I'd as lief be in Forks ; it's warmer," replied 
 Slum, imperturbably. 
 
 "Stow yer gas ! You nag like a widder as can't git 
 a second man." 
 
 " Which wouldn't happen wi' folk o' your kidney 
 around." 
 
 Shaky was on his feet in an instant, and his anger 
 was blazing in his fierce eyes. 
 
 " Say, you gorl " 
 
 " Set right ther', Shaky," broke in Slum, as the big 
 man sprang toward him. " Set right ther' ; ther' ain't 
 goin' to be no hoss-play." 
 
 Slum Ranks had not shifted his position, but his 
 right hand had dived into his jacket pocket and his 
 eyes flashed ominously. And the carpenter dropped 
 back into his seat without a word.
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 21 
 
 And Tresler looked on in amazement. It was all so 
 quick, so sudden. There had hardly been a breathing 
 space between the passing of their good-nature and 
 their swift-rising anger. The strangeness of it all, the 
 lawlessness, fascinated him. He knew he was on the 
 fringe of civilization, but he had had no idea of how 
 sparse and short that fringe was. He thought that 
 civilization depended on the presence of white folk. 
 That, of necessity, white folk must themselves have 
 the instincts of civilization. 
 
 Here he saw men, apparently good comrades all. 
 who were ready, on the smallest provocation, to turn 
 and rend each other. It was certainly a new life to 
 him, something that perhaps he had vaguely dreamt 
 of, but the possibility of the existence of which he had 
 never seriously considered. 
 
 But, curiously enough, as he beheld these things for 
 himself for the first time, they produced no shock, they 
 disturbed him in nowise. It all seemed so natural. 
 More, it roused in him a feeling that such things should 
 be. Possibly this feeling was due to his own upbring- 
 ing, which had been that of an essentially athletic uni- 
 versity. He even felt the warm blood surge through 
 his veins at the prospect of a forcible termination to 
 the two men's swift passage of arms. 
 
 But the ebullition died out as quickly as it had risen. 
 Slum slid from the bar to the ground, and his deep-set 
 eyes were smiling again. 
 
 " Pshaw," he said, with a careless shrug, "ther* ain't 
 nothin' to grit wi'out savee." 
 
 Shaky rose and stretched himself as though nothing
 
 22 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 had happened to disturb the harmony of the meeting. 
 The butcher relinquished his hold on the bar and 
 moved across to the window. 
 
 " Guess the missis'll be shoutin' around fer you 
 fellers to git your suppers," Slum observed cheerfully. 
 Then he turned to Tresler. " Ike, here, don't run no 
 boarders. Mebbe you'd best git around to my shack. 
 Sally'll fix you up with a blanket or two, an' the grub 
 ain't bad. You see, I run a boardin'-house fer the 
 boys leastways, Sally does." 
 
 And Tresler adopted the suggestion. He had no 
 choice but to do so. Anyway, he was quite satisfied 
 with the arrangement. He had entered the life of the 
 prairie and was more than willing to adopt its ways 
 and its people. 
 
 And the recollection of that first night in Forks re- 
 mained with him when the memory of many sub- 
 sequent nights had passed from him. It stuck to 
 him as only the first strong impressions of a new life 
 can. 
 
 He met Sally Ranks she was two sizes too large 
 for the dining-room of the boarding-house who talked 
 in a shrieking nasal manner that cut the air like a 
 knife, and who heaped the plates with coarse food that 
 it was well to have a good appetite to face. He dined 
 for the first time in his life at a table that had no cloth, 
 and devoured his food with the aid of a knife and fork 
 that had never seen a burnish since they had first 
 entered the establishment, and drank boiled tea out 
 of a tin cup that had once been enameled. He was 
 no longer John Tresler, fresh from the New England
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 23 
 
 States, but one of fourteen boarders, the majority of 
 whom doubled the necessary length of their sentences 
 when they conversed by reason of an extensive vocab- 
 ulary of blasphemy, and picked their teeth with their 
 forks. 
 
 But it was pleasant to him. He was surrounded by 
 something approaching the natural man. Maybe they 
 were drawn from the dregs of society, but nevertheless 
 they had forcibly established their right to live a fea- 
 ture that had lifted them from the ruck of thousands of 
 law-abiding citizens. He experienced a friendly feeling 
 for these ruffians. More, he had a certain respect for 
 them. 
 
 After supper many of them drifted back to their rec- 
 reation-ground, the saloon. Tresler, although he had 
 no inclination for drink, would have done the same. 
 He wished to see more of the people, to study them as 
 a man who wishes to prepare himself for a new part. 
 But the quiet Slum drew him back and talked gently 
 to him ; and he listened. 
 
 " Say, Tresler," the little man remarked offhandedly, 
 " ther's three fellers lookin' fer a gamble. Two of 'em 
 ain't a deal at ' draw/ the other's pretty neat. I tho't, 
 mebbe, you'd notion a hand up here wi' us. It's better'n 
 loafin' down 't the saloon. We most gener'ly play a 
 dollar limit." 
 
 And so it was arranged. Tresler stayed. He was 
 initiated. He learned the result of a game of " draw " 
 in Forks, where the players made the whole game of 
 life a gamble, and attained a marked proficiency in the 
 art.
 
 24 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 The result was inevitable. By midnight there were 
 four richer citizens in Forks, and a newcomer who was 
 poorer by his change out of a hundred-dollar bill. 
 But Tresler lost quite cheerfully. He never really 
 knew how it was he lost, whether it was his bad play 
 or bad luck. He was too tired and sleepy long before 
 the game ended. He realized next morning, when he 
 came to reflect, that in some mysterious manner he 
 had been done. However, he took his initiation phil- 
 osophically, making only a mental reservation for 
 future guidance. 
 
 That night he slept on a palliasse of straw, with a 
 pillow consisting of a thin bolster propped on his outer 
 clothes. Three very yellow blankets made up the tally 
 of comfort. And the whole was spread out on the 
 floor of a room in which four other men were sleeping 
 noisily. 
 
 After breakfast he paid his bill, and, procuring his 
 horse, prepared for departure. His first acquaintance 
 in Forks stood his friend to the last. Slum it was who 
 looked round his horse to see that the girths of the 
 saddle were all right ; Slum it was who praised the 
 beast in quiet, critical tones ; Slum it was who shook 
 him by the hand and wished him luck ; Slum it was 
 who gave him a parting word of advice ; just as it was 
 Slum who had first met him with ridicule, cared for 
 him at a price during his sojourn, and quietly robbed 
 him at a game he knew little about. And Tresler, with 
 the philosophy of a man who has that within him which 
 must make for achievement, smiled, shook hands 
 heartily and with good will, and quietly stored up the
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 25 
 
 wisdom he had acquired in his first night in Forks 
 Settlement. 
 
 " Say, Tresler," exclaimed Slum, kindly, as he wrung 
 his departing guest's hand, " I'm real glad I've met 
 you. I 'lows, comin' as you did, you might 'a' run 
 dead into some durned skunk as hadn't the manners 
 for dealin' with a hog. There's a hatful of 'em in 
 Forks. S'long. Say, ther's a gal at Skitter Bend. 
 She's the ol' blind hoss's daughter, an' she's a dandy. 
 But don't git sparkin' her wi' the ol' man around." 
 
 Tresler laughed. Slum amused him. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said. " Your kindness has taken a 
 load off my mind. I know more than I did yesterday 
 morning. No, I won't get sparking the girl with the 
 old man around. See you again some time." 
 
 And he passed out of Forks. 
 
 " That feller's a decent no, he's a gentleman," mut- 
 tered Slum, staring after the receding horseman. 
 " Guess Skitter Bend's jest about the place fer him. 
 He'll bob out on top like a cork in a water bar'l. Say, 
 Jake Harnach'll git his feathers trimmed or I don't 
 know a ' deuce-spot ' from a ' straight flush.' ' 
 
 Which sentiment spoke volumes for his opinion of 
 the man who had just left him.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 
 
 FORKS died away in a shimmering haze of heat as 
 Tresler rode out over the hard prairie trail. Ten miles 
 they had told him it was to Mosquito Bend ; a ten-mile 
 continuation of the undulating plains he had now grown 
 accustomed to. He allowed his horse to take it lei- 
 surely. There was no great hurry for an early arrival. 
 
 John Tresler had done what many an enterprising 
 youngster from the New England States has done since. 
 At the age of twenty-five, finding himself, after his 
 university career at Harvard, with an excellent train- 
 ing in all athletics, particularly boxing and wrestling 
 and all those games pertaining to the noble art of self- 
 defense, but with only a limited proficiency in matters 
 relating to the earning of an adequate living, he had 
 decided to break new ground for himself on the prairie- 
 lands of the West. Stock-raising was his object, and, 
 to this end, he had sought out a ranch where he could 
 thoroughly master the craft before embarking on his 
 own enterprise. 
 
 It was through official channels that he had heard of 
 Mosquito Bend as one of the largest ranches in the 
 country at the time, and he had at once entered into 
 negotiations with the owner, Julian Marbolt, for a period 
 of instruction. His present journey was the result.
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 27 
 
 He thought a good deal as his horse ambled over 
 that ten miles. He weighed the stories he had heard 
 from Shaky, and picked them threadbare. He reduced 
 his efforts to a few pointed conclusions. Things were 
 decidedly rough at Mosquito Bend. Probably the 
 brutality was a case of brute force pitted against brute 
 force he had taken into consideration the well-known 
 disposition of the Western cowpuncher and, as such, 
 a matter of regretable necessity for the governing of 
 the place. Shaky had in some way fallen foul of the 
 master and foreman and had allowed personal feel- 
 ings to warp his judgment. And, lastly, taking his 
 " greenness" into account, he had piled up the agony 
 simply from the native love of the " old hand " for 
 scaring a newcomer. 
 
 Tresler was no weakling or he would never have set 
 out to shape his own course as he was now doing. He 
 was a man of considerable purpose, self-reliant and 
 reasonable, with sufficient easy good-nature to be com- 
 patible with strength. He liked his own experiences 
 too, though he never scorned the experiences of 
 another. Slum had sized him up pretty shrewdly 
 when he said " he'll bob out on top like a cork in a 
 water bar'l," but he had not altogether done him full 
 justice. 
 
 The southwestern trail headed slant-wise for the 
 mountains, which snowy barrier bounded his vision to 
 the west the whole of his journey. He had watched 
 the distant white-capped ramparts until their novelty 
 had worn off, and now he took their presence as a 
 matter of course. His eyes came back to the wide,
 
 28 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 almost limitless plains about him, and he longed for the 
 sight of a tree, a river, even a cultivated patch of 
 nodding wheat. But there was just nothing but the 
 lank, tawny grass for miles and miles, and the blazing 
 sunlight that scorched him and baked gray streaks of 
 dusty sweat on his horse's shoulders and flanks. 
 
 He rode along dreaming, as no doubt hundreds of 
 others have dreamt before and since. There was noth- 
 ing new or original about his dreams, for he was not a 
 man given to romance. He was too direct and practical 
 for that. No, his were just the thoughts of a young 
 man who has left his home, which thereby gains in 
 beauty as distance lends enchantment to it, and kindly 
 recollection crowns it with a glory that it could never 
 in reality possess. 
 
 Without indication or warning, he came upon one of 
 those strangely hidden valleys in which the prairie near 
 the Rockies abounds. He found himself at the edge 
 of it, gazing down upon a wide woodland-bound river, 
 which wound away to the east and west like the trail 
 of some prehistoric monster. The murmur of the 
 flowing waters came to him with such a suggestion of 
 coolness and shade that, for the first time on his long 
 journey from Whitewater, he was made to forget the 
 park-like beauties of his own native land. 
 
 There was a delightful variation of color in the 
 foliage down there. Such a density of shadow, such a 
 brilliancy. And a refreshing breeze was rustling over 
 the tree-tops, a breath he had longed for on the plains 
 but had never felt. The opposite side was lower. He 
 stood on a sort of giant step. A wall that divided the
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 29 
 
 country beyond from the country he was leaving. A 
 wall that seemed to isolate those who might live down 
 there and shut them out as though theirs was another 
 world. 
 
 He touched his horse's flanks, and, with careful, stilted 
 steps, the animal began the descent. And now he 
 speculated as to the whereabouts of the ranch, for he 
 knew that this was the Mosquito River, and somewhere 
 upon its banks stood his future home. As he thought 
 of this he laughed. His future home ; well, judging by 
 what he had been told, it would certainly possess the 
 charm of novelty. 
 
 He was forced to give up further speculation for 
 a while. The trail descended so sharply that his horse 
 had to sidle down it, and the loose shingle under its 
 feet set it sliding and slipping dangerously. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour he drew up on the river 
 bank and looked about him. Whither ? That was the 
 question. He was at four crossroads. East and west, 
 along the river bank ; and north and south, the way he 
 had come and across the water. 
 
 Along the bank the woods were thick and dark, and 
 the trail split them like the aisle of an aged Gothic 
 church. The surface of red sand was hard, but there 
 were marks of traffic upon it. Then he looked across 
 the river at the distant rolling plains. 
 
 " Of course," he said aloud. " Who's going to build 
 a ranch on this side ? Where could the cattle run ? " 
 
 And he put his horse at the water and waded across 
 without further hesitation. Beyond the river the road 
 bent away sharply to the right, and cut through a wide
 
 30 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 avenue of enormous pine trees, and along this he 
 bustled his horse. Half a mile further on the avenue 
 widened. The solemn depths about him lightened, and 
 patches of sunlight shone down into them and lit up 
 the matted underlay of rotting cones and pine-needles 
 which covered the earth. 
 
 The road bent sharply away from the river, revealing 
 a scrub of low bush decorated with a collection of white 
 garments, evidently set out to dry. His horse shied at 
 the unusual sight, and furthermore took exception to the 
 raucous sound of a man's voice chanting a dismal 
 melody, somewhere away down by the river on his 
 right. 
 
 In this direction he observed a cattle-path. And the 
 sight of it suggested ascertaining the identity of the 
 doleful minstrel. No doubt this man could give him 
 the information he needed. He turned off the road and 
 plunged into scrub. And at the river bank he came 
 upon a curious scene. There was a sandy break in the 
 bush, and the bank sloped gradually to the water's 
 edge. Three or four wash-tubs, grouped together in 
 a semicircle, stood on wooden trestles, and a quaint- 
 looking little man was bending over one of them wash- 
 ing clothes, rubbing and beating a handful of garments 
 on a board like any washerwoman. His back was 
 turned to the path, and he faced the river. On his right 
 stood an iron furnace and boiler, with steam escaping 
 from under the lid. And all around him the bushes 
 were hung with drying clothes. 
 
 " Hello ! " cried Tresler, as he slipped to the ground. 
 
 " Holy smoke 1 "
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 31 
 
 The scrubbing and banging had ceased, and the 
 most curiously twisted face Tresler had ever seen 
 glanced back over the man's bowed shoulder. A red, 
 perspiring face, tufted at the point of the chin with a 
 knot of gray whisker, a pair of keen gray eyes, and a 
 mouth yes, it was the mouth that held Tresler's atten- 
 tion. It went up on one side, and had somehow got 
 mixed up with his cheek, while a suggestion of it was 
 continued by means of a dark red scar right up to the 
 left eye. 
 
 For a second or two Tresler could not speak, he was 
 so astonished, so inclined to laugh. And all the while 
 the gray eyes took him in from head to foot ; then an- 
 other exclamation, even more awestruck, broke from 
 the stranger. 
 
 " Gee-whizz ! " 
 
 And Tresler sobered at once. 
 
 " Where's Mosquito Bend Ranch ? " he asked. 
 
 The little man dropped his washing and turned 
 round, propping himself against the edge of the tub. 
 
 " Skitter Bend Ranch ? " he echoed slowly, as though 
 the meaning of the question had not penetrated to his 
 intellect. Then a subdued whisper followed. " Gee, 
 
 but I " And he looked down at his own clothes 
 
 as though to reassure himself. 
 
 Tresler broke in; he understood the trend of the 
 other's thoughts. 
 
 " Yes, Mosquito Bend," he said sharply. 
 
 " Nigh to a mile on. Keep to the trail, an' you'll 
 
 strike Blind Hell in a few minutes. Say " He 
 
 broke off, and looked up into Tresler's face.
 
 32 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Yes, I'm going there. You don't happen to be- 
 long to to Blind Hell?" 
 
 " Happen I do," assured the washerman. " I do the 
 chores around the ranch. Joe Nelson, once a stock 
 
 raiser m'self. Kerrville, Texas. Now " He 
 
 broke off, and waved a hand in the direction of the 
 drying clothes. 
 
 " Well, I'm John Tresler, and I'm on my way to 
 Mosquito Bend." 
 
 " So you're the ' tenderfoot,' " observed the chore- 
 man, musingly. " You're the feller from Noo England 
 as Jake's goin' to lick into shape." 
 
 " Going to teach, you mean." 
 
 " I s'pose I do," murmured the other gently, but 
 without conviction. The twisted side of his face 
 wrinkled hideously, while the other side smiled. 
 
 "You mentioned Blind Hell just now?" questioned 
 Tresler, as the other relapsed into a quiet survey of 
 him. 
 
 "Blind Hell, did I?" said Nelson, repeating the 
 name, a manner which seemed to be a habit of his. 
 
 " Yes. What is it ? What did you mean ? " 
 
 Tresler's questions were a little peremptory. He felt 
 that the riding-breeches that had caused such notice in 
 Forks were likely to bring him further ridicule. 
 
 " Oh, it's jest a name. 'Tain't of no consequence. 
 Say," the choreman broke out suddenly, " you don't 
 figger to git boostin' steers in that rig ? " He stretched 
 out an abnormally long arm, and pointed a rough but 
 wonderfully clean finger at the flowing corduroys 
 Tresler had now become so sensitive about.
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 33 
 
 " Great Scott, man ! " he let out testily. " Have you 
 never seen riding-breeches before ? you, a ranch- 
 man." 
 
 The tufted beard shot sideways again as the face 
 screwed up and half of it smiled. 
 
 " I do allow I've seen such things before. Oncet," 
 he drawled slowly, with a slight Southern accent, but 
 in a manner that betokened a speech acquired by asso- 
 ciation rather than the natural tongue. " He was a 
 feller that came out to shoot big game up in the hills. 
 I ain't seen him sence, sure. Guess nobody did." He 
 looked away sadly. " We heerd tell of him. Guess 
 he got fossicking after b'ar. The wind was blowin' 
 ter'ble. He'd climbed a mount'n. It was pretty 
 high. Ther' wa'n't no shelter. A gust o' that wind 
 come an' took him." 
 
 Nelson had turned back to his tubs, and was again 
 banging and rubbing. 
 
 " A mile down the trail, I think you said ? " Tresler 
 cried, springing hastily into the saddle. 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 And for the first time Tresler's horse felt the sharp 
 prick of the spurs as he rode off. 
 
 Mosquito Bend Ranch stood in a wide clearing, with 
 the house on a rising ground above it. It was lined at 
 the back by a thick pinewood. For the rest the house 
 faced out on to the prairie, and the verandahed front 
 overlooked the barns, corrals, and outhouses. It stood 
 apart, fully one hundred yards from the nearest out- 
 buildings. 
 
 This was the first impression Tresler obtained on ar-
 
 34 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 rival. The second was that it was a magnificent ranch 
 and the proprietor must be a wealthy man. The third 
 was one of disappointment ; everything was so quiet, 
 so still. There was no rush or bustle. No horsemen 
 riding around with cracking whips ; no shouting, no 
 atmosphere of wildness. And, worst of all, there were 
 no droves of cattle tearing around. Just a few old 
 milch cows near by, peacefully grazing their day away, 
 and philosophically awaiting milking time. These, 
 and a few dogs, a horse or two loose in the corrals, 
 and a group of men idling outside a low, thatched 
 building, comprised the life he first beheld as he rode 
 into the clearing. 
 
 " And this is Blind Hell," he said to himself as he 
 came. " It belies its name. A more peaceful, beauti- 
 ful picture, I've never clapped eyes on." 
 
 And then his thoughts went back to Forks. That 
 too had looked so innocent. After all, he remem- 
 bered, it was the people who made or marred a place. 
 
 So he rode straight to a small, empty corral, and, 
 off-saddling, turned his horse loose, and deposited his 
 saddle and bridle in the shadow of the walls. Then 
 he moved up toward the buildings where the men 
 were grouped. 
 
 They eyed him steadily as he came, much as they 
 might eye a strange animal, and he felt a little uncom- 
 fortable as he recollected his encounter first with Slum 
 and more recently with Joe Nelson. He had grown 
 sensitive about his appearance, and a spirit of defiance 
 and retaliation awoke within him. 
 
 But for some reason the men paid little attention to
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 35 
 
 him just then. One man was talking, and the rest 
 were listening with rapt interest. They were cow- 
 punchers, every one. Cowpunchers such as Tresler 
 had heard of. Some were still wearing their fringed 
 " chapps," their waists belted with gun and ammuni- 
 tion ; some were in plain overalls and thin cotton shirts. 
 All, except one, were tanned a dark, ruddy hue, un- 
 shaven, unkempt, but tough-looking and hardy. The 
 pale-faced exception was a thin, sick-looking fellow 
 with deep hollows under his eyes, and lips as ashen as 
 a corpse. He it was who was talking, and his recital 
 demanded a great display of dramatic gesture. 
 
 Tresler came up and joined the group. " I never 
 ast to git put up ther'," he heard the sick man saying ; 
 " never ast, an' didn't want. It was her doin's, an' I tell 
 you fellers right here she's jest thet serrupy an' good 
 as don't matter. I'd 'a' rotted down here wi' flies an' 
 the heat for all they'd 'a' cared. That blind son of a 
 
 'ud 'a' jest laffed ef I'd handed over, an' Jake 
 
 say, we'll level our score one day, sure. Next time 
 Red Mask, or any other hoss thief, gits around, I'll 
 bear a hand drivin' off the bunch. I ain't scrappin' 
 no more fer the blind man. Look at me Guess I 
 ain't no more use'n yon ' tenderfoot.' " The speaker 
 pointed scornfully at Tresler, and his audience turned 
 and looked. " Guess I've lost quarts o' blood, an' 
 have got a hole in my chest ye couldn't plug with a 
 corn-sack. An' now, jest when I'm gittin' to mend 
 decent, he comes an' boosts me right out to the bunk- 
 house 'cause he ketches me yarnin' wi' that bit of a gal 
 o' his. But, say, she just let out on him that neat as
 
 36 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 you fellers never heerd. Yes, sir, guess her tongue's 
 like velvet mostly, but when she turned on that blind 
 hulk of a father of hers wal, ther', ef I was a cat an' 
 had nine lives to give fer her they jest wouldn't be 
 enough by a hund'ed." 
 
 " Say, Arizona," said one of the men quietly, " what 
 was you yarnin' 'bout ? Guess you allus was sweet on 
 Miss Dianny." 
 
 Arizona turned on the speaker fiercely. " That'll do 
 fer you, Raw ; mebbe you ain't got savee, an' don't 
 know a leddy when you sees one. I'm a cow-hand, 
 an' good as any man around here, an' ef you've any 
 doubts about it, why " 
 
 " Don't take no notice, Arizona," put in a lank youth 
 quickly. He was a tall, hungry-looking boy, in that 
 condition of physical development when nature seems 
 in some doubt as to her original purpose. "'E's only 
 laffin' at you." 
 
 " Guess Mister Raw Harris ken quit right here then, 
 Teddy. I ain't takin' his slack noways." 
 
 " Git on with the yarn, Arizona," cried another. 
 " Say, wot was you say in' to the gal ? " 
 
 " Y' see, Jacob," the sick man went on, falling back 
 into his drawling manner, " it wus this ways. Miss 
 Dianny, she likes a feller to git yarnin', an', seein' as 
 I've been punchin' most all through the States, she 
 kind o' notioned my yarns. Which I 'lows is reason- 
 able. She'd fixed my chest up, an' got me trussed 
 neat an' all, an' set right down aside me fer a gas. 
 You know her ways, kind o' sad an' saft. Wal, she 
 up an' tells me how she'd like gittin' in to Whitewater
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 37 
 
 next winter, an' talked o' dances an' sech. Say, she wus 
 jest whoopin' wi' the pleasure o' the tho't of it. Guess 
 likely she'd be mighty pleased to git aways. Wai, I 
 don't jest know how it come, but I got yarnin' of a bar- 
 becue as was held down Arizona way. I was tellin' as 
 how I wus ther', an' got winged nasty. It wa'n't 
 much. Y' see I was tellin' her as I wus runnin' a bit 
 of a hog ranch them times, an', on o-casions, we used 
 to give parties. The pertickler party I wus referrin' to 
 wus a pretty wholesome racket. The boys got good 
 an' drunk, an' they got slingin' the lead frekent 'fore 
 daylight come around. Howsum, it wus the cause o' 
 the trouble as I wus gassin' 'bout. Y' see, Brown was 
 one of them juicy fellers that chawed hunks o' plug till 
 you could nose Virginny ev'ry time you got wi'in gun- 
 shot of him. He was a cantankerous cuss was Brown, 
 an' a deal too free wi' his tongue. Y' see he'd a lady 
 with him ; leastways she wus the pot-wolloper from the 
 saloon he favored, an' he guessed as she wus most as 
 han'some as a Bible 'lustration. Wai, 'bout the time 
 the rotgut wus flowin' good an' frekent, they started in 
 to pool fer the prettiest wench in the room, as is the 
 custom down ther'. Brown, he wus dead set on his 
 gal winnin', I guess ; an' ' Dyke Hole ' Bill, he'd got a 
 pretty tidy filly wi' him hisself, an' didn't reckon as no 
 daisy from a bum saloon could gi* her any sort o' start. 
 Wai, to cut it short, I guess the boys went dead out 
 fer Bill's gal. It wus voted as ther' wa'n't no gal 
 around Spawn City as could dec'rate the country wi' 
 sech beauty. I guess things went kind o' silent when 
 Shaggy Steele read the ballot. The air o' that place got
 
 38 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 uneasy. I located the door in one gulp. Y' see Brown 
 was allus kind o' sudden. But the trouble come diff- 
 'rent. The thing jest dropped, an* that party hummed 
 fer a whiles. Brown's gal up an' let go. Sez she, 
 4 Here, guess I'm the dandy o' this run, an' I ain't settin' 
 around while no old hen from Dyke Hole gits scoopin' 
 prizes. She's goin' to lick me till I can't see, ef she's 
 yearnin' fer that pool. Mebbe you boys won't need 
 more'n half an eye to locate the winner when I'm done.' 
 Wi' that she peels her waist off'n her, an' I do allow 
 she wus a fine chunk. An' the ' Dyke Hole ' daisy, she 
 wa'n't no slouch ; guess she wus jest bustin' wi' fight. 
 But Brown sticks his taller-fat nose in an' shoots his 
 
 bazzoo an' 
 
 " An' that's most as fer as I got when along comes 
 that all-fired ' dead-eyes ' an' points warnin' at me while 
 he ogled me with them gummy red rims o' his. An', 
 sez he, 'You light right out o' here sharp, Arizona; 
 the place fer you scum's down in the bunkhouse. 
 An' I'm not goin' to have any skulkin' up here, telling 
 disreputable yarns to my gal.' I wus jest beginnin' to 
 argyfy. ' But,' sez I. An' he cut me short wi' a curse. 
 ' Out of here ! ' he roared. ' I give you ten minutes to 
 git ! ' Then she, Miss Dianny, bless her, she turned on 
 him quick, an' dressed him down handsome. Sez she, 
 ' Father, how can you be so unkind after what Arizona 
 has done for you? Remember,' sez she, ' he saved you 
 a hundred head of cattle, and fought Red Mask's gang 
 until help came and he fell from his hoise.' Oh, she 
 was a dandy, and heaped it on like bankin' a furnace. 
 She cried lots an' lots, but it didn't signify. Out I wus
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 39 
 
 to git, an' out I got. An' now I'll gamble that swine 
 Jake'll try and set me to work. But I'll level him 
 sure." 
 
 One of the men, Lew Cawley, laughed silently, and 
 then put in a remark. Lew was a large specimen of 
 the fraternity, and history said that he was the son of 
 an English cleric. But history says similar things of 
 many ne'er-do-wells in the Northwest. He still used 
 the accent of his forebears. 
 
 " Old blind-hunks knows something. With all re- 
 spect, Arizona has winning ways ; but," he added, be- 
 fore the fiery Southerner could retort, " if I mistake not, 
 here comes Jake to fulfil Arizona's prophecy." 
 
 Every one swung round as Lew nodded in the direc- 
 tion of the house. A huge man of about six feet five 
 was striding rapidly down the slope. Tresler, who had 
 been listening to the story on the outskirts of the group, 
 eyed the newcomer with wonder. He came at a gait 
 in which every movement displayed a vast, monumen- 
 tal strength. He had never seen such physique in his 
 life. The foreman was still some distance off, and he 
 could not see his face, only a great spread of black 
 beard and whisker. So this was the much-cursed Jake 
 Harnach, and, he thought without any particular pleas- 
 ure, his future boss. 
 
 There was no further talk. Jake Harnach looked up 
 and halted. Then he signaled, and a great shout came 
 to the waiting group. 
 
 " Hi ! hi ! you there ! You with the pants ! " 
 
 A snigger went round the gathering, and Tresler 
 knew that it was he who was being summoned. He
 
 40 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 turned away to hide his annoyance, but was given no 
 chance of escape. 
 
 " Say, send that guy with the pants along ! " roared 
 the foreman. And Tresler was forced into unwilling 
 compliance. 
 
 And thus the two men, chiefly responsible for the 
 telling of this story of Mosquito Bend, met. The spirit 
 of the meeting was antagonistic ; a spirit which, in the 
 days to come, was to develop into a merciless hatred. 
 Nor was the reason far to seek, nor could it have 
 been otherwise. Jake looked out upon the world 
 through eyes that distorted everything to suit his own 
 brutal nature, while Tresler's simple manliness was 
 the result of his youthful training as a public school- 
 boy. 
 
 The latter saw before him a man of perhaps thirty- 
 five, a man of gigantic stature, with a face handsome 
 in its form of features, but disfigured by the harsh de- 
 pression of the black brows over a pair of hard, bold 
 eyes. The lower half of his face was buried beneath a 
 beard so dense and black as to utterly disguise the 
 mould of his mouth and chin, thus leaving only the 
 harsh tones of his voice as a clue to what lay hidden 
 there. 
 
 His dress was unremarkable but typical moleskin 
 trousers, a thin cotton shirt, a gray tweed jacket, and 
 a silk handkerchief about his neck. He carried nothing 
 in the shape of weapons, not even the usual leather belt 
 and sheath-knife. And in this he was apart from the 
 method of his country, where the use of firearms was 
 the practice in disputes.
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 41 
 
 On his part, Jake looked upon a well-built man five 
 inches his inferior in stature, but a man of good pro- 
 portions, with a pair of shoulders that suggested possi- 
 bilities. But it was the steady look in the steel-blue 
 eyes which told him most. There was a simple direct- 
 ness in them which told of a man unaccustomed to any 
 browbeating ; and, as he gazed into them, he made a 
 mental note that this newcomer must be reduced to a 
 proper humility at the earliest opportunity. 
 
 There was no pretense of courtesy between them. 
 Neither offered to shake hands. Jake blurted out his 
 greeting in a vicious tone. 
 
 " Say, didn't you hear me callin' ? " he asked sharply. 
 
 "I did." And the New Englander looked quietly 
 into the eyes before him, but without the least touch of 
 bravado or of yielding. 
 
 " Then why in h didn't you come ? " 
 
 " I was not to know you were calling me." 
 
 " Not to know ? " retorted the other roughly. " I 
 guess there aren't two guys with pants like yours 
 around the ranch. Now, see right here, young feller, 
 you'll just get a grip on the fact that I'm foreman of 
 this layout, and, as far as the ' hands ' are concerned, 
 I'm boss. When I call, you come and quick." 
 
 The man towered over Tresler in a bristling attitude. 
 His hands were aggressively thrust into his jacket 
 pockets, and he emphasized his final words with a 
 scowl. And it was his attitude that roused Tresler ; 
 the words were the words of an overweening bully, and 
 might have been laughed at, but the attitude said more, 
 and no man likes to be browbeaten. His anger leapt,
 
 42 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 and, though he held himself tightly, it found expression 
 in the biting emphasis of his reply. 
 
 "When I'm one of the 'hands,' yes," he said inci- 
 sively. 
 
 Jake stared. Then a curious sort of smile flitted 
 across his features. 
 
 " Hah ! " he ejaculated. 
 
 And Tresler went on with cold indifference. " And, 
 in the meantime, I may as well say that the primary 
 object of my visit is to see Mr. Marbolt, not his fore- 
 man. That, I believe," he added, pointing to the 
 building on the hill, " is his house." 
 
 Without waiting for a reply he stepped aside, and 
 would have moved on. But Jake had swung round, 
 and his hand fell heavily upon his shoulder. 
 
 " No, you don't, my dandy cock ! " he cried violently, 
 his fingers painfully gripping the muscle under the 
 Norfolk jacket. 
 
 Springing aside, and with one lithe twist, in a flash 
 Tresler had released himself, and stood confronting the 
 giant with blazing eyes and tense drawn muscles. 
 
 " Lay a hand on me again, and there'll be trouble," 
 he said sharply, and there was an oddly furious burr in 
 his speech. 
 
 The foreman stood for a moment as words failed 
 him. Then his fury broke loose. 
 
 " I told you jest now," he cried, falling back into the 
 twang of the country as his rage mastered him, " that 
 I run this layout " 
 
 " And I tell you," broke in the equally angry Tresler, 
 " that I've nothing to do with you or the ranch either
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 43 
 
 until I have seen your master. And I'll have you 
 know that if there's any bulldozing to be done, you 
 can keep it until I am one of the ' hands.' You shan't 
 lack opportunity." 
 
 The tone was as scathing as the violence of his 
 anger would permit. He had not moved, except to 
 thrust his right hand into his jacket pocket, while he 
 measured the foreman with his eyes and watched his 
 every movement. 
 
 He saw Harnach hunch himself as though to spring 
 at him. He saw the great hands clench at his sides 
 and his arms draw up convulsively. He saw the work- 
 ing face and the black eyes as they half closed and 
 reduced themselves to mere slits beneath the over- 
 shadowing brows. Then the hoarse, rage-choked 
 voice came. 
 
 " By G ! I'll smash you, you " 
 
 " I shouldn't say it." Tresler's tone had suddenly 
 changed to one of icy coldness. The flash of a white 
 dress had caught his eye. " There's a lady present," 
 he added abruptly. And at the same time he released 
 his hold on the smooth butt of a heavy revolver he had 
 been gripping in his pocket. 
 
 What might have happened but for the timely inter- 
 ruption it would be impossible to say. Jake's arms 
 dropped to his sides, and his attitude relaxed with a 
 suddenness that was almost ludicrous. The white 
 dress fluttered toward him, and Tresler turned and 
 raised his prairie hat He gave the foreman no heed 
 whatever. The man might never have been there. 
 He took a step forward.
 
 44 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Miss Marbolt, I believe," he said. " Forgive me, 
 but it seems that, being a stranger, I must introduce 
 myself. I am John Tresler. I have just been perform- 
 ing the same ceremony for your father's foreman's 
 benefit. Can I see Mr. Marbolt?" 
 
 He was looking down into what he thought at the 
 moment was the sweetest, saddest little face he had 
 ever seen. It was dark with sunburn, in contrast with 
 the prim white drill dress the girl wore, and her cheeks 
 were tinged with a healthy color which might have 
 been a reflection of the rosy tint of the ribbon about 
 her neck. But it was the quiet, dark brown eyes, half 
 wistful and wholly sad, and the slight droop at the 
 corners of the pretty mouth, that gave him his first 
 striking impression. She was a delightful picture, but 
 one of great melancholy, quite out of keeping with her 
 youth and fresh beauty. 
 
 She looked up at him from under the brim of a wide 
 straw sun-hat, trimmed with a plain silk handkerchief, 
 and pinned to her wealth of curling brown hair so as 
 to give her face the utmost shade. Then she frankly 
 held out her hand in welcome to him, whilst her eyes 
 questioned his, for she had witnessed the scene between 
 the two men and overheard their words. But Tresler 
 listened to her greeting with a disarming smile on his 
 face. 
 
 "Welcome, Mr. Tresler," she said gravely. "We 
 have been expecting you. But I'm afraid you can't 
 see father just now. He's sleeping. He always sleeps 
 in the afternoon. You see, daylight or night, it makes 
 no difference to him. He's blind. He has drifted into
 
 MOSQUITO BEND 45 
 
 a curious habit of sleeping in the day as well as at 
 night. Possibly it is a blessing, and helps him to for- 
 get his affliction. I am always careful, in consequence, 
 not to waken him. But come along up to the house ; 
 you must have some lunch, and, later, a cup of tea." 
 
 " You are awfully kind. 1 ' 
 
 Tresler watched a troubled look that crept into the 
 calm expression of her eyes. Then he looked on while 
 she turned and dismissed the discomfited foreman. 
 
 " I shan't ride this afternoon, Jake," she said coldly. 
 " You might have Bessie shod for me instead. Her 
 hoofs are getting very long." Then she turned again 
 to her guest. " Come, Mr. Tresler." 
 
 And the New Englander readily complied. 
 
 Nor did he even glance again in the direction of the 
 foreman. 
 
 Jake cursed, not audibly, but with such hateful in- 
 tensity that even the mat of beard and moustache 
 parted, and the cruel mouth and clenched teeth be- 
 neath were revealed. His eyes, too, shone with a dia- 
 bolical light. For the moment Tresler was master of 
 the situation, but, as Jake had said, he was "boss"'' of 
 that ranch. " Boss " with him did not mean " owner."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE BLIND MAN 
 
 TRESLER was unfeignedly glad to leave Jake Har- 
 nach behind him, but he looked very serious as he and 
 his companion moved on to the house. The result of 
 his meeting with the foreman would come back on him 
 later, he knew, and it was as well that he was pre- 
 pared. The meeting had been unfortunate, but, judg- 
 ing by what he had heard of Jake in Forks, he must 
 inevitably have crossed the bully sooner or later ; Jake 
 himself would have seen to that. 
 
 Diane Marbolt paused as she came to the verandah. 
 They had not spoken since their greeting. Now she 
 turned abruptly, and quietly surveyed her guest. Nor 
 was there any rudeness in her look. Tresler felt that 
 he was undergoing a silent cross-examination, and 
 waited, quietly smiling down at her from his superior 
 height. 
 
 At last she smiled up at him and nodded. 
 
 "Will I do?" he asked. 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 It was a curious position, and they both laughed. 
 But in the girl's manner there was no levity. 
 
 " You are not sure ? Is there anything wrong about 
 me ? My my dress, for instance ? " Tresler laughed
 
 THE BLIND MAN 47 
 
 again ; he had missed the true significance of his com- 
 panion's attitude toward him. 
 
 Just for a moment the dark little face took on a look 
 of perplexity. Then the pucker of the brows smoothed 
 out, and she smiled demurely as she answered. 
 
 "Oh, I see no," doubtfully. Then more decidedly, 
 " No. You see, you are a ' tenderfoot.' You'll get 
 over it later on." 
 
 And the last barrier of formality was set aside. 
 
 " Good," exclaimed Tresler, emphatically. " We 
 are going to be friends, Miss Marbolt. I knew it. It 
 was only that I feared that ' they ' might ruin my 
 chances of your approbation. You see, they've already 
 caused me er trouble." 
 
 " Yes, I think we shall be friends," Diane answered 
 quietly. " In the meantime, come along into the house 
 and have your lunch. It is ready, I saw you coming 
 and so prepared it at once. You will not mind if 
 I sit and look on while you eat. I have had mine. I 
 want to talk to you before you see my father." 
 
 There was distinct anxiety in her manner. More 
 surely than all, her eyes betrayed her uneasiness. 
 However, he gave no sign, contenting himself with a 
 cordial reply. 
 
 " You are very kind. I too should like a chat. You 
 see, I am a 'tenderfoot,' and you have been kind 
 enough to pass over my shortcomings." 
 
 Diane led the way into the house. And Tresler, fol- 
 lowing her, was struck with the simple comfort of this 
 home in the wilds. It was a roomy two-storied house, 
 unpretentious, but very capacious. They entered
 
 48 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 through one of three French windows what was evi- 
 dently a useful sort of drawing-room-parlor. Beyond 
 this they crossed a hallway, the entrance door of which 
 stood open, and passed into a dining-room, which, in 
 its turn, opened directly into a kitchen beyond. This 
 room looked out on the woods at the back. Diane ex- 
 plained that her father's sanctum was in front of this, 
 while behind the parlor was his bedroom, opposite 
 the dining-room and kitchen. The rooms up-stairs 
 were bedrooms, and her own private parlor. 
 
 "You see, we keep no female servants, Mr. Tresler," 
 the girl said, as she brought a pot of steaming coffee 
 from the kitchen and set it on the table. " I am house- 
 keeper. Joe Nelson, the choreman, is my helper and 
 does all the heavy work. He's quite a character. 1 ' 
 
 "Yes, I know. I've met him," observed Tresler, 
 dryly. 
 
 " Ah ! Try that ham. I don't know about the cold 
 pie, it may be tough. Yes, old Joe is an Englishman ; 
 at least, he was, but he's quite Americanized now. He 
 spent forty years in Texas. He's really an educated 
 man. Owned a nice ranch and got burned out. 
 I'm very fond of him ; but it isn't of Joe I want to 
 talk." 
 
 " No." 
 
 The man helped himself to the ham and veal pie, 
 and found it anything but tough. 
 
 Diane seated herself in a chair with her back to the 
 uncurtained window, through which the early summer 
 sun was staring. 
 
 " You have met Jake Harnach and made an enemy
 
 THE BLIND MAN 49 
 
 of him," she said suddenly, and with simple direct- 
 ness. 
 
 " Yes ; the latter must have come anyway." 
 
 The girl sighed, and her eyes shone with a brooding 
 light. And Tresler, glancing at her, recognized the 
 sadness of expression he had noticed at their first 
 meeting, and which, he was soon to learn, was habitual 
 to her. 
 
 " I suppose so," she murmured in response. Then 
 she roused herself, and spoke almost sharply. " What 
 would you have done had he struck you ? He is a 
 man of colossal strength." 
 
 Tresler laughed easily. " That depends. I'm not 
 quite sure. I should probably have done my best to 
 retaliate. I had an alternative. I might have shot 
 him." 
 
 " Oh 1 " the girl said with impulsive horror. 
 
 " Well, what would you have ? " Tresler raised his 
 eyebrows and turned his astonished eyes upon her. 
 " Was I to stand lamb-like and accept a thrashing from 
 that unconscionable ruffian? No, no," he shook his 
 head. " I see it in your eyes. You condemn the 
 method, but not the man. Remember, we all have a 
 right to live if we can. Maybe there's no absolute 
 necessity that we should, but still we are permitted to 
 do our best. That's the philosophy I've had ham- 
 mered into me with the various thrashings the school 
 bullies at home have from time to time administered. 
 I should certainly have done my best." 
 
 " And if you had done either of these things, I 
 shudder to think what would have happened. It was
 
 50 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 unfortunate, terribly unfortunate. You do not know 
 Jake Harnach. Oh, Mr. Tresler," the girl hurried on, 
 leaning suddenly forward in her chair, and reaching 
 out until her small brown hand rested on his arm, 
 " please, please promise me that you won't run foul of 
 Jake. He is terrible. You don't, you can't know him, 
 or you would understand your danger." 
 
 " On the contrary, Miss Marbolt. It is because I 
 know a great deal of him that I should be ready to re- 
 taliate very forcibly. I thank my stars I do know him. 
 Had I not known of him before, your own words 
 would have warned me to be ready for all emergencies. 
 Jake must go his way and I'll go mine. I am here to 
 learn ranching, not to submit to any bulldozing. But 
 let us forget Jake for the moment, and talk of some- 
 thing more pleasant. What a charming situation the 
 ranch has ! " 
 
 The girl dropped back in her chair. There was no 
 mistaking the decision of her visitor's words. She 
 felt that no persuasion of hers could alter him. With 
 an effort she contrived to answer him. 
 
 "Yes, it is a beautiful spot. You have not yet had 
 time to appreciate the perfections of our surround- 
 ings." She paused for him to speak, but as he re- 
 mained silent she labored on with her thoughts set 
 on other things. " The foot-hills come right down 
 almost to our very doors. And then in the distance, 
 above them, are the white caps of the mountains. We 
 are sheltered, as no doubt you have seen, by the almost 
 inaccessible wall beyond the river, and the pinewoods 
 screen us from the northeast and north winds of
 
 THE BLIND MAN 51 
 
 winter. South and east are miles and miles of prairie- 
 lands. Father has been here for eighteen years. I was 
 a child of four when we came. Whitewater was a 
 mere settlement then, and Forks wasn't even in exist- 
 ence. We hadn't a neighbor nearer than Whitewater 
 in those days, except the Indians and half-breeds. 
 They were rough times, and father held his place only 
 by the subtlety of his poor blind brain, and the arms 
 of the men he had with him. Jake has been with us 
 as long as I can remember. So you see," she added, 
 returning to her womanly dread for his safety, " I 
 know Jake. My warning is not the idle fear of a silly 
 girl." 
 
 Tresler remained silent for a moment or two. Then 
 he asked sharply 
 
 " Why does your father keep him ? " 
 
 The girl shrugged her shoulders. " Jake is the 
 finest ranchman in the country." 
 
 And in the silence that followed Tresler helped 
 himself to more coffee, and finished off with cheese 
 and crackers. Neither seemed inclined to break up 
 the awkwardness of the pause. For the time the 
 man's thoughts were wandering in interested specula- 
 tion as to the possibilities of his future on the ranch. 
 He was not thinking so much of Jake, nor even of 
 Julian Marbolt. It was of the gentler associations with 
 the girl beside him associations he had never antici- 
 pated in his wildest thoughts. She was no prairie-bred 
 girl. Her speech, her manner, savored too much of 
 civilization. Yes, he decided in his mind, although she 
 claimed Mosquito Bend as her home since she was
 
 52 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 four, she had been educated elsewhere. His thoughts 
 were suddenly cut short. A faint sound caught his 
 quick ears. Then Diane's voice, questioning him, re- 
 called his wandering attention. 
 
 " I understand you intend to stay with us for three 
 years?" 
 
 " Just as long as it will take to learn all the business 
 of a ranch," he answered readily. " I am going to be- 
 come one of the " 
 
 Again he heard the peculiar noise, and he broke off 
 listening. Diane was listening too. It was a soft tap, 
 tap, like some one knocking gently upon a curtained 
 door. It was irregular, intermittent, like the tapping 
 of a telegraph-sounder working very slowly. 
 
 " What's that ? " he asked. 
 
 The girl had risen, and a puzzled look was in her 
 eyes. "The noise? Oh, it's father," she said, with a 
 shadowy smile, and in a lowered tone. " Something 
 must have disturbed him. It is unusual for him to be 
 awake so early." 
 
 Now they heard a door open, and the tapping 
 ceased. Then the door closed and the lock turned. A 
 moment later there came the jingle of keys, and then 
 shuffling footsteps accompanied the renewed tapping. 
 
 Tresler was still listening. He had turned toward 
 the door, and while his attention was fixed on the com- 
 ing of the blind rancher, he was yet aware that Diane 
 was clearing the table with what seemed to him un- 
 necessary haste and noise. However, his momentary 
 interest was centred upon the doorway and the passage 
 outside, and he paid little heed to the girl's movements.
 
 THE BLIND MAN 53 
 
 The door stood open, and as he looked out the sound 
 of shuffling feet drew nearer ; then a figure passed the 
 opening. 
 
 It was gone in a moment. But in that moment he 
 caught sight of a tall man wrapped in the gray folds 
 of a dressing-gown that reached to his feet. That, 
 and the sharp outline of a massive head of close- 
 cropped gray hair. The face was lost, all except the 
 profile. He saw a long, high-bridged nose and a 
 short, crisp grayish beard. The tapping of the stick 
 died slowly away. And he knew that the blind man 
 had passed out on to the verandah. 
 
 Now he turned again to the girl, and would have 
 spoken, but she raised a warning finger and shook her 
 head. Then, moving toward the door, she beckoned 
 to him to follow. 
 
 ****** 
 
 " Father, this is Mr. Tresler." 
 
 Tresler found himself looking down upon a remark- 
 able face. He acknowledged Diane's introduction, for- 
 getful, for the moment, of the man's sightless eyes. He 
 gripped the outstretched hand heartily, while he took 
 in his first impression of a strange personality. 
 
 They were out on the verandah. The rancher was 
 sitting in a prim, uncushioned armchair. He had a 
 strong, well-moulded, pale face, the sightless eyes of 
 which held the attention. Tresler at once appreciated 
 Shaky's description of them. 
 
 They were dreadful eyes. The pupils were there, 
 and, in a measure, appeared natural except for their 
 enormous size. They were black, jet black, and divided
 
 54 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 from what should have been the whites by minute rings 
 of blue, the only suspicion of iris they possessed. But 
 it was the whites that gave them their dreadful expres- 
 sion. They were scarlet with inflammation an inflam- 
 mation which extended to the rims of the lids and had 
 eaten away the lashes. Of the rest of the face it was 
 impossible for him to form much of an opinion. The 
 iron-gray brows were depressed as though with physical 
 pain, and so obliterated all natural expression. And 
 the beard shut out the indications which the mouth and 
 chin might have afforded. 
 
 "You're welcome, Mr, Tresler," he said, in a low, 
 gentle tone. " I knew you were here some time ago." 
 
 Tresler was astonished at the quiet refinement of his 
 voice. He had grown so accustomed to the high, 
 raucous twang of the men of these wilds that it came as 
 a surprise to him. 
 
 " I hope I didn't disturb you," he answered cheerily. 
 " Miss Marbolt told me you were sleeping, and " 
 
 " You didn't disturb me at least, not in the way you 
 mean. You see, I have developed a strange sensitive- 
 ness a sort of second sight," he laughed a little bitterly. 
 " I awoke by instinct the moment you approached the 
 house, and heard you come in. The loss of one sense, 
 you see, has made others more acute. Well, well, so 
 you have come to learn ranching ? Diane " the blind 
 man turned to his daughter "describe Mr. Tresler to 
 me. What does he look like ? Forgive me, my dear 
 sir," he went on, turning with unerring instinct to the 
 other. " I glean a perfect knowledge of those about 
 me in this way."
 
 THE BLIND MAN 55 
 
 " Certainly." The object of the blind man's interest 
 smiled over at the girl. 
 
 Diane hesitated in some confusion. 
 
 " Go on, child," her father said, with a touch of 
 impatience in his manner. 
 
 Thus urged she began. " Mr. Tresler is tall. Six 
 feet. Broad-shouldered." 
 
 The man's red, staring eyes were bent on his pupil 
 with a steady persistency. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he urged, as the girl paused. 
 
 " Dressed in er fashionable riding costume." 
 
 " His face ? " 
 
 " Black hair, steel-blue eyes, black eyelashes and 
 brows. Broad forehead " 
 
 " Any lines? " questioned the blind man. 
 
 " Only two strong marks between the brows." 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " Broad-bridged, rather large nose ; well-shaped 
 mouth, with inclination to droop at the corners ; broad, 
 split chin ; well-rounded cheeks and jaw." 
 
 " Ha 1 clean-shaven, of course yes." 
 
 The rancher sat silent for some moments after Diane 
 had finished her description. His lips moved, as 
 though he were talking to himself ; but no words came 
 to those waiting. At last he stirred, and roused from 
 his reverie. 
 
 " You come from Springfield, Mr. Tresler, I under- 
 stand ?" he said pleasantly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Um. New England. A good country that breeds 
 good men," he nodded, with an expression that was
 
 56 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 almost a smile. " I'm glad to be able to welcome you ; 
 I only wish I could see. However," he went on kindly, 
 " you will be able to learn ranching in all its branches 
 here. We breed horses and cattle. You'll find it 
 rough. My foreman is not exactly gentle, but, believe 
 me, he knows his business. He is the finest ranchman 
 in the country, and I owe much of my success to him. 
 You must get on the right side of Jake, though. It 
 requires finding the right side, I mean but it is worth 
 seeking." 
 
 Tresler smiled as he listened. He thoroughly agreed 
 with the reference to the difficulty of finding Jake's 
 "right" side. He endeavored to catch Diane's eye, 
 but she avoided his gaze. As the rancher paused, he 
 broke in at once. 
 
 " I presume I start work in earnest to-morrow morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 The blind man shook his head. " No ; better start 
 in to-day. Our agreement reads to-day ; it must not 
 be broken. You take your position as one of the 
 hands, and will be under the control of Jake Harnach." 
 
 " We can have tea first, though," put in Diane, who 
 had followed her father's words with what seemed 
 unnecessary closeness. 
 
 "Tut, tut, child," he replied impatiently. "Yes, we 
 will have tea. 'Tis all you think of. See to it, and 
 bring Tresler a chair; I must talk to him." 
 
 His words were a dismissal ; and after Diane had 
 provided a chair, she retired into the house, leaving 
 apprentice and master alone. And the two men talked, 
 as men will talk who have just come together from the
 
 THE BLIND MAN 57 
 
 ends of the world. Tresler avoided the details of his 
 journey ; nor did the blind man seem in any way inter- 
 ested in his personal affairs. It was the news of men, 
 and matters concerning the world, that they discussed. 
 And the rancher's information and remarks, and keen, 
 incisive questions, set the newcomer wondering. He 
 watched the face before him, the red, sightless eyes. 
 He studied the quiet, gentle-voiced man, as one may 
 study an abstruse problem. The result was dishearten- 
 ing. One long, weary expression of pain was all he 
 beheld ; no lights and shades of emotion and interest. 
 It was the face of one grown patient under a lifelong 
 course of suffering. Tresler had listened to the bitter 
 cursings against this man, but as the soft voice and 
 cultured expressions fell upon his ears, the easy-flowing, 
 pointed criticisms on matters of public interest, the 
 broad philosophy, sometimes faintly dashed with bitter- 
 ness and cynicism, but always sound, he found it hard 
 to associate him with the significant sobriquet of the 
 ranch. Tea-time found him still wrestling with the 
 unsolved problem. But, with the advent of Diane with 
 the table and laden tray, he set it aside for future 
 study. 
 
 For the next half-hour he transferred his attention to 
 the relations between father and daughter, as they 
 chatted pleasantly of the ranching prospects of the 
 country, for the benefit of their visitor. This was a 
 lesser problem, and one he came near to achieving. 
 Before he left them, he resolved that Diane stood in 
 great awe, not to say fear, of her father. This to him 
 was astonishing, judging by the strength of character
 
 58 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 every feature in her face displayed. It seemed to him 
 that she was striving hard to bestow affection on him 
 trying to create an affection that had no place in her 
 heart. Her efforts were painfully apparent. She 
 convinced him at once of a lively sense of duty a sense 
 she was carrying to a point that was almost pitiful. 
 All this he felt sure of, but it was the man who finally 
 baffled him as he had baffled him before. How he 
 regarded Diane it was impossible to say. Sometimes 
 he could have sworn that the man's devotion to her was 
 that of one who, helpless, clings to a support which 
 never fails him ; at others, he treated her to a sneering 
 intolerance, which roused the young man's ire; and, 
 again, he would change his tone, till the undercurrent 
 of absolute hatred drowned the studied courtesy which 
 veneered it. And when he finally rose to leave the 
 verandah and seek out the foreman and report himself 
 for duty, it was with a genuine feeling of relief at leav- 
 ing the presence of those dreadful red eyes. 
 
 Diane was packing up the tea-things, and Tresler still 
 lingered on the verandah ; he was watching the blind 
 man as he tapped his way into the house. Then, as 
 he disappeared, and the sound of his shuffling feet 
 grew faint and distant, he became aware that Diane 
 was standing holding the tray and watching him. He 
 knew, too, by her attentive attitude, that she was listen- 
 ing to ascertain when her father should be out of ear- 
 shot. As the sounds died away, and all became silent 
 within the house, she came over to him. She spoke 
 without pausing on her way ; it seemed that she feared 
 observation.
 
 THE BLIND MAN 59 
 
 " Don't forget, Mr. Tresler, what I told you about 
 Jake. Be warned. In spite of what you say, you do 
 not know him." 
 
 " Thanks, Miss Marbolt," he replied warmly ; " I 
 shall not forget." 
 
 Diane was about to speak again, but the voice of her 
 father, harsh and strident enough now, reached them 
 from the hallway. 
 
 " Come in, child, and let Tresler go to his work." 
 
 And Tresler noted the expression of fear that leapt 
 into the girl's face as she hurriedly passed into the 
 house. He stood for a moment wrathful and wonder- 
 ing ; then he strode away toward the corrals, reflecting 
 on the strange events which had so swiftly followed one 
 upon the other. 
 
 "Ye gods," he muttered, "this is a queer place and 
 these are queer people." 
 
 Then as he saw the great figure of Jake coming up 
 the hill toward him, from the direction of a small iso- 
 lated hut, he went out to meet him, unconsciously 
 squaring himself as he drew near. 
 
 He expected an explosion ; at least an angry dem- 
 onstration. But nothing of the sort happened. The 
 whole attitude of the man had changed to one of 
 studied amiability. Not only that, but his diction was 
 careful to a degree, as though he were endeavoring to 
 impress this man from the East with his superiority 
 over the other ranchmen. 
 
 " Well ? You have seen him ? " 
 
 " Yes. I have now come to report myself ready for 
 work," Tresler replied at once. He adopted a cold
 
 60 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 business tone, deeming it best to observe this from the 
 start. 
 
 To his surprise Jake became almost cordial. " Good. 
 We can do with some hands, sure. Had a pleasant 
 talk with the old man ? " The question came indiffer- 
 ently, but a sidelong glance accompanied it as the fore- 
 man turned away and gazed out over the distant 
 prairie. 
 
 " I have," replied Tresler, shortly. " What are my 
 orders, and where do I sleep?" 
 
 " Then you don't sleep up at the house ? " Jake in- 
 quired, pretending surprise. There was a slight acid- 
 ity in his tone. 
 
 " That is hardly to be expected when the foreman 
 sleeps down there." Tresler nodded, indicating the out- 
 buildings. 
 
 " That's so," observed the other, thoughtfully. " No, 
 I guess the old man don't fancy folk o' your kidney 
 around," he went on, relapsing into the speech of the 
 bunkhouse unguardedly. " Mebbe it's different wi' 
 the other." 
 
 Tresler could have struck him as he beheld the mean- 
 ing smile that accompanied the fellow's words. 
 
 " Where do I sleep ? " he demanded sharply. 
 
 " Oh, I guess you'll roll into the bunkhouse. Likely 
 the boys' 11 fix you for blankets till your truck comes 
 along. As for orders, why, we start work at sunup, 
 and Slushy dips out breakfast before that. Guess I'll 
 put you to work in the morning ; you can't do a deal 
 yet, but maybe you'll learn." 
 
 "Then I'm not wanted to-night?"
 
 THE BLIND MAN 61 
 
 " Guess not." Jake broke off. Then he turned 
 sharply and faced his man. " I've just one word to say 
 to you 'fore you start in," he went on. " We kind o' 
 make allowance fer ' tenderfeet ' around here once. 
 After that, we deal accordin' savee? Say, ther' ain't 
 no tea-parties customary around this layout." 
 
 Tresler smiled. If he had been killed for it he must 
 have smiled. In that last remark the worthy Jake had 
 shown his hand. And the latter saw the smile, and 
 his face darkened with swift-rising anger. But he 
 had evidently made up his mind not to be drawn, for, 
 with a curt " S'long," he abruptly strode off, leaving 
 the other to make his way to the bunkhouse. 
 
 The men had not yet come in for their evening meal, 
 but he found Arizona disconsolately sitting on a roll of 
 blankets just outside the door of the quarters. He was 
 chewing steadily, with his face turned prairieward, 
 gazing out over the tawny plains as though nothing 
 else in the world mattered to him. 
 
 He looked up casually as Tresler came along, and 
 edged along the blankets to make room, contenting 
 himself with a laconic 
 
 " Set." 
 
 The two men sat in silence for some moments. The 
 pale-faced cowpuncher seemed absorbed in deep reflec- 
 tion. Tresler was thinking too ; he was thinking of 
 Jake, whom he clearly understood was in love with his 
 employer's daughter. It was patent to the veriest sim- 
 pleton. Not only that, but he felt that Diane herself 
 knew it. The way the foreman had desisted from his 
 murderous onslaught upon himself at her coming was
 
 62 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 sufficient evidence without the jealousy he had be- 
 trayed in his reference to tea-parties. Now he under- 
 stood, too, that it was because the blind man was 
 asleep, and in going up to the house he, Tresler, would 
 only meet Diane, and probably spend a pleasant after- 
 noon with her until her father awoke, that Jake's un- 
 reasoning jealousy had been aroused, and he had en- 
 deavored to forcibly detain him. He felt glad that he 
 had learned these things so soon. All such details 
 would be useful. 
 
 At last Arizona turned from his impassive contem- 
 plation of the prairie. 
 
 "Wai?" he questioned. And he conveyed a world 
 of interrogation in his monosyllable. 
 
 " Jake says I begin work to-morrow. To-night I 
 sleep in the bunkhouse." 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 " You know ? " Tresler looked around in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Guess Jake's bin 'long. Say, I'll shoot that feller, 
 sure 'less some interferin' cuss gits along an' does 
 him in fust." 
 
 " What's up ? Anything fresh ? " 
 
 For answer Arizona spat forcibly into the little pool 
 of tobacco-juice on the ground before him. Then, with 
 a vicious clenching of the teeth 
 
 " He's a swine." 
 
 " Which is a libel on hogs," observed the other, with 
 a smile. 
 
 " Libel ?" cried Arizona, his wild eyes rolling, and 
 his lean nostrils dilating as his breath came short and
 
 THE BLIND MAN 63 
 
 quick. " Yes, grin ; grin like a blazin' six-foot ape. 
 Mebbe y'll change that grin later, when I tell you what 
 he's done." 
 
 " Nothing he could do would surprise me after hav- 
 ing met him." 
 
 " No." Arizona had calmed again. His volcanic 
 nature was a study. Tresler, although he had only 
 just met this man, liked him for his very wildness. 
 " Say, pardner," he went on quietly, reaching one long, 
 lean hand toward him, " shake ! I guess I owe you 
 gratitood fer bluffin' that hog. We see it all. Say, 
 you've got grit." And the fierce eyes looked into the 
 other's face. 
 
 Tresler shook the proffered hand heartily. " But 
 what's his latest achievement?" he asked, eager to 
 learn the fresh development. 
 
 " He come along here 'bout you. Sed we wus to fix 
 you up in pore Dave Steele's bunk." 
 
 " Yes ? That's good. I rather expected he'd have 
 me sleep on the floor " 
 
 Arizona gave a snort. His anger was rising again, 
 but he checked it. 
 
 " Say," he went on, " guess you don't know a heap. 
 Ther' ain't bin a feller slep in that bunk since Dave 
 went away." 
 
 " Why ? " Tresler's interest was agog. 
 
 " Why ? " Arizona's voice rose. " 'Cos it's mussed 
 all up wi' a crazy man's blood. A crazy man as wus 
 killed right here, kind of, by Jake Harnach." 
 
 " I heard something of it." 
 
 " Heerd suthin' of it ? Wai, I guess ther' ain't a fel-
 
 64 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 ler around this prairie as ain't yelled hisself hoarse 
 'bout Dave. Say, he wus the harmlessest lad as ever 
 jerked a rope or slung a leg over a stock saddle. An' 
 as slick a hand as ther' ever wus around this ranch. I 
 tell ye he could teach every one of us, he wus that 
 handy ; an' that's a long trail, I 'lows. Wai, we wus 
 rimnin' in a bunch of outlaws fer brandin', an' he wus 
 makin' to rope an old bull. Howsum he got him kind 
 o' awkward. The rope took the feller's horns. 'Fore 
 Dave could loose it that bull got mad, an' went squar' 
 for the corral walls an' broke a couple o' the bars. 
 Dave jumped fer it an' got clear. Then Jake comes 
 hollerin' an' swearin' like a stuck hog, an' Dave he took 
 it bad. Y' see no one could handle an outlaw like 
 Dave. He up an' -let fly at Jake, an* cussed back. 
 Wot does Jake do but grab up a brandin' iron an' lay 
 it over the boy's head. Dave jest dropped plumb in 
 his tracks. Then we got around and hunched him up, 
 an' laid him out in his bunk, bleedin' awful. We plas- 
 tered him, an' doctored him, an' after a whiles he come 
 to. He lay on his back fer a month, an' never a sign 
 o' Jake or the blind man come along, only Miss Dianny. 
 She come, an' we did our best. But arter a month he 
 got up plump crazed an' silly-like. He died back ther' 
 in Forks soon after." Arizona paused significantly. 
 Then he went on. " No, sir, ther' ain't bin a feller put 
 in that bunk sense, fer they ain't never gotten pore 
 Dave's blood off'n it. Say, ther' ain't a deal as 'ud 
 scare us fellers, but we ain't sleepin' over a crazy man's 
 blood." 
 
 " Which, apparently, I've got to do," Tresler said
 
 THE BLIND MAN 65 
 
 sharply. Then he asked, " Is it the only spare 
 bunk?" 
 
 " No. Trier's Thompson's, an' ther's Massy's." 
 
 "Then what's the object?" 
 
 " Cussedness. It's a kind o' delicate attention. It's 
 fer to git back on you, knowin' as us fellers 'ud sure 
 tell you of Dave. It's to kind o' hint to you what hap- 
 pens to them as runs foul o' him. What's like to 
 happen to you." 
 
 Arizona's fists clenched, and his teeth gritted with 
 rage as he deduced his facts. Tresler remained calm, 
 but it did him good to listen to the hot-headed cow- 
 puncher, and he warmed toward him. 
 
 "I'm afraid I must disappoint him," he said, when 
 the other had finished. " If you fellows will lend me 
 some blankets, I'll sleep in Massy's or Thompson's 
 bunk, and Mr. Jake can go hang." 
 
 Arizona shot round and peered into Tresler's face. 
 " An' you'll do that sure ? " 
 
 " Certainly. I'm not going to sleep in a filthy 
 bunk." 
 
 "Say, you're the most cur'usest 'tenderfoot' I've 
 seen. Shake ! " 
 
 And again the two men gripped hands. 
 
 That first evening around the bunkhouse Tresler 
 learned a lot about his new home, and, incidentally, 
 the most artistic manner of cursing the flies. He had 
 supper with the boys, and his food was hash and tea 
 and dry bread. It was hard but wholesome, and there 
 was plenty of it. His new comrades exercised their 
 yarning propensities for him, around him, at him. He
 
 66 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 listened to their chaff, boisterous, uncultured ; their 
 savage throes of passion and easy comradeships. 
 They seemed to have never a care in the world but the 
 annoyances of the moment Even their hatred for the 
 foreman and their employer seemed to lift from them, 
 and vanish with the sound of the curses which they 
 heaped upon them. It was a new life, a new world to 
 him ; and a life that appealed to him. 
 
 As the sun sank and the twilight waned, the men 
 gradually slipped away to turn in. Arizona was the 
 last to go. Tresler had been shown Massy's bunk, 
 and friendly hands had spread blankets upon it for 
 him. He was standing at the foot of it in the long aisle 
 between the double row of trestle beds. Arizona had 
 just pointed out the dead man's disused couch, all 
 covered with gunny sacks. 
 
 " That's Dave's," he said. " I kind o' think you'll 
 sleep easier right here. Say, Tresler," he went on, 
 with a serious light in his eyes, " I'd jest like to say 
 one thing to you, bein' an old hand round these parts 
 myself, an' that's this. When you git kind o' worried, 
 use your gun. Et's easy an 1 quick. Guess you've 
 plenty o' time an' to spare after fer sizin' things up. 
 Ther' ain't a man big 'nough in this world to lift a 
 ringer ef you sez ' no ' and has got your gun pointin' 
 right. S'long." 
 
 But Tresler detained him. " Just one moment, 
 Arizona," he said, imitating the other's impressive 
 manner. " I'd just like to say one thing to you, being 
 a new hand around these parts myself, and that's this. 
 You being about my size, I wonder if you could sell
 
 THE BLIND MAN 67 
 
 me a pair of pants, such as you fellows ordinarily 
 wear ? " 
 
 The cowpuncher smiled a pallid, shadowy smile, and 
 went over to his kit-bag. He returned a moment later 
 with a pair of new moleskin trousers and threw them 
 on the bunk. 
 
 " You ken have them, I guess. Kind o' remem- 
 brancer fer talkin' straight to Jake. Say, that did me 
 a power o' good." 
 
 " Thanks, but I'll pay " 
 
 " Not on your life, mister." 
 
 " Then I'll remember your advice." 
 
 " Good. S'long."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 TRESLER had not the smallest inclination for sleep. 
 He was tired enough physically, but his brain was still 
 much too active. Besides, the bunkhouse was un- 
 inviting to him as yet. The two lines of trestle-beds, 
 with their unkempt occupants, were suggestive of 
 well, anything but congenial sleeping companions. 
 The atmosphere was close and stuffy, and the yellow 
 glimmer of the two oil-lamps, one stationed at each 
 end of the room, gave the place a distasteful sugges- 
 tion of squalor. 
 
 He was not unduly squeamish far from it ; but, be 
 it remembered, he had only just left a world of ease 
 and luxury, where snow-white linen and tasteful sur- 
 roundings were necessary adjuncts to existence. 
 Therefore these things came to him in the nature of a 
 shock. 
 
 He looked at his blankets spread over the straw 
 palliasse that disguised the loose bed-boards under- 
 neath, and this drew his attention to the mattress itself. 
 It was well-worn and dusty, and as he moved it he 
 felt that the straw inside was crushed to the smallest 
 chaff. He laid it back carefully so as not to disturb 
 the dust, and rearranged the blankets over it. Then 
 he sat on the foot of it and pondered.
 
 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 69 
 
 He gazed about him at the other beds. Some of the 
 men were already sleeping, announcing the fact more 
 or less loudly. Others were swathed in their blankets 
 smoking in solemn silence. One was deep in the 
 blood-curdling pages of a dime novel, straining his 
 eyes in the fitful light of the lamps. The scene had 
 novelty for him, but it was not altogether enthralling, 
 so he filled his pipe and lit it, and passed out into the 
 fresh night air. It was only ten o'clock, and he felt 
 that a smoke and a comfortable think would be pleas- 
 ant before facing the charms of his dusty couch. 
 
 The moon had not yet risen, but the starry sheen of 
 the sky dimly outlined everything. He was gazing 
 upon the peaceful scene of a ranch when night has 
 spread her soft, velvety wings. There were few sounds 
 to distract his thoughts. The air still hummed with 
 the busy insect life ; one of the prowling ranch dogs 
 occasionally gave tongue, its fiercely suspicious temper 
 no doubt aroused by some vague shadow which surely 
 no other eyes than his could possibly have detected in 
 the darkness ; sometimes the distressful plaint of a 
 hungry coyote, hunting for what it never seems to 
 find for he is always prowling and hunting would 
 rouse the echoes and startle the " tenderfoot " with the 
 suddenness and nearness of its uncanny call. But for 
 the rest all was still. And he paced to and fro before 
 the bunkhouse, thinking. 
 
 And, strangely enough, of all the scenes he had 
 witnessed that day, and of all the people he had met, 
 it was the scene in which Diane Marbolt had taken 
 part, and of her he mostly thought. Perhaps it was
 
 70 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 the unexpectedness of meeting a girl so charming that 
 held him interested. Perhaps it was the eager desire 
 she had displayed in warning him of his personal 
 danger. Perhaps, even, it was the recollection of the 
 soft, brown eyes, the charming little sun-tanned face 
 that had first looked up at him from beneath the 
 broad-brimmed straw hat. Certain it was her sad face 
 haunted him as no woman's face had ever haunted 
 him before as he looked out on the vast, dark world 
 about him. He felt that he would like to know some- 
 thing of her story ; not out of idle curiosity, but that 
 he might discover some means of banishing the look 
 of sadness so out of place upon her beautiful features. 
 
 His pipe burned out, and he recharged and lit it 
 afresh ; then he extended his peregrinations. He 
 moved out of the deeper shadows of the bunkhouse 
 and turned the corner in the direction of the western 
 group of corrals. 
 
 Now he saw the foreman's hut beyond the dark out- 
 line of the great implement shed, and a light was still 
 shining in the window. Turning away he passed to 
 the left of the shed, and strolled leisurely on to the 
 corrals. He had no desire in the world to meet Jake 
 Harnach ; not that he thought such a contingency 
 likely, but still there was always the chance if the man 
 had not yet gone to bed. He had already decided 
 that the less he saw of Jake the better it would be for 
 both of them. He remained for some minutes seated 
 on the top of the corral fence, but the mosquitoes were 
 too thick, and drove him to further wanderings. 
 
 Just as he was about to move away, he saw the door
 
 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 71 
 
 of tha foreman's hut open, and in the light that shone 
 behind, the small figure of the choreman, Joe Nelson, 
 come out. Then the light was shut out as the great 
 figure of Jake blocked the doorway. Now he distinctly 
 heard them speaking. 
 
 "I shall want it first thing in the morning," said the 
 foreman, in his great hoarse voice. 
 
 "Guess I'll see to it," replied Joe; " but 'tain't the 
 saddle fer anybody who ain't used to it." 
 
 " That's o' no consequence. Your business is to 
 have it there." 
 
 Then Jake retired, and the door was shut. A mo- 
 ment later the waiting man saw Joe emerge from the 
 shadow and stump off in the direction of the bunkhouse. 
 A few yards from the foreman's hut he halted and 
 turned about. Then Tresler witnessed something that 
 made him smile, while it raised a lively feeling of satis- 
 faction in his heart. Joe slowly raised one arm in the 
 direction of the hut, and, although the light was insuf- 
 ficient for him to see it, and he could hear no words, 
 he felt sure that the fist was clenched, and a string of 
 blasphemous invective was desecrating the purity of 
 the night air. A moment later Joe passed leisurely on 
 his way, and the light went out in Jake's dwelling. 
 
 And now, without concerning himself with his direc- 
 tion, Tresler continued his walk. He moved toward 
 an open shed crowded with wagons. This he skirted, 
 intending to avoid the foreman's hut, but just as he 
 moved out from the shadow, he became aware that 
 Jake's door had opened again and some one was com- 
 ing out. He waited for a moment listening. He
 
 72 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 fancied he recognized the foreman's heavy tread. 
 Curiosity prompted him to inquire further, but he 
 checked the impulse. After all, the bully's doings 
 were no concern of his. So he waited until the sound 
 of receding footsteps had died out, and then passed 
 round the back of the shed and strolled on. 
 
 There was nothing now in front of him but the dense 
 black line of the boundary pinewoods. These stretched 
 away to the right and left as far as the darkness per- 
 mitted him to see. The blackness of their depths was 
 like a solid barrier, and he had neither time nor incli- 
 nation to explore them at that hour. Therefore he 
 skirted away to the right, intending to leave the forest 
 edge before he came to the rancher's house, and so 
 make his way back to his quarters. 
 
 He was approaching the house, and it loomed dark 
 and rigid before him. Gazing upon it, his mind at 
 once reverted to its blind owner, and he found himself 
 wondering if he were in bed yet, if Diane had retired, 
 and in which portion of the house she slept. 
 
 His pipe had gone out again, and he paused to re- 
 light it. He had his matches in his hand, and was 
 about to strike one, when suddenly a light flashed out 
 in front of him. It came and was gone in a second. 
 Yet it lasted long enough for him to realize that it 
 came from a window, and the window, he knew, from 
 its position, must be the window of Julian Marbolt's 
 bedroom. 
 
 He waited for it to reappear, but the house remained 
 in darkness ; and, after a moment's deliberation, he re- 
 alized its meaning. The door of the blind man's room
 
 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 73 
 
 must be opposite the window, and probably it was the 
 opening of it that had revealed the lamplight in the 
 hall. The thought suggested the fact that the rancher 
 had just gone to bed. 
 
 He turned his attention again to his pipe ; but he 
 seemed destined not to finish his smoke. Just as he 
 had the match poised for a second time, his ears, now 
 painfully acute in the stillness about him, caught the 
 sound of horses' hoofs moving through the forest 
 
 They sounded quite near ; he even heard the gush 
 of the animals' nostrils. He peered into the depths. 
 Then, suddenly realizing the strangeness of his own 
 position lurking so near the house and under cover of 
 the forest at that hour of the night, he dropped down 
 in the shadow of a low bush. Nor was it any too soon, 
 for, a moment or two later, he beheld two horsemen 
 moving slowly toward him out of the black depths. 
 They came on until they were within half a dozen 
 yards of him, and almost at the edge of the woods. 
 Then they drew up and sat gazing out over the ranch 
 in silent contemplation. 
 
 Tresler strained his eyes to obtain a knowledge of 
 their appearance, but the darkness thwarted him. He 
 could see the vague outline of the man nearest him, 
 but it was so uncertain that he could make little of it. 
 One thing only he ascertained, and that was because 
 the figure was silhouetted against the starlit sky. The 
 man seemed to have his face covered with something 
 that completely concealed his profile. 
 
 The whole scene passed almost before he realized it. 
 The horsemen had appeared so suddenly, and were
 
 74 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 gone so swiftly, returning through the forest the way 
 they had come, that he was not sure but that the whole 
 apparition had been a mere trick of imagination. 
 Rising swiftly, he gazed after the vanished riders, and 
 the crunching of the pine cones under the horses' hoofs, 
 dying slowly away as they retreated, warned him that 
 the stealthy, nocturnal visit was no illusion, but a cu- 
 rious fact that needed explanation. 
 
 Just for an instant it occurred to him that it might 
 be two of the hands out on night work around the 
 cattle, then he remembered that the full complement 
 were even now slumbering in the bunkhouse. Puzzled 
 and somewhat disquieted, he turned his steps in the 
 direction of his quarters, fully intending to go to bed ; 
 but his adventures were not over yet. 
 
 As he drew near his destination he observed the 
 figure of a man, bearing something on his back, com- 
 ing slowly toward him. A moment later he was look- 
 ing down upon the diminutive person of Joe Nelson in 
 the act of carrying a saddle upon his shoulder 
 
 " Hello, Nelson, where are you going at this hour of 
 the night? " he asked, as he came face to face with the 
 little man. 
 
 The choreman deposited the saddle on the ground, 
 and looked his man up and down before he answered. 
 
 " Wher' am I goin' ? " he said, as though he were 
 thinking of other things. " I guess I'm doin' a job 
 in case I git fergittin' by the mornin'. Jake reckons 
 to want my saddle in the mornin' over at the hoss cor- 
 rals. But, say, why ain't you abed, Mr. Tresler ? " 
 
 " Never mind the ' mister,' Joe," Tresler said ami-
 
 SHE* 
 
 A moment later he beheld two horsemen
 
 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 75 
 
 ably. " If you're going to the horse corrals now I'll 
 go with you. I'm so beastly wide awake that I can't 
 turn in yet." 
 
 " Come right along, then. Guess I ain't feelin' that 
 ways, sure." 
 
 Joe jerked his saddle up and slung it across his back 
 again, and the two men walked off in silence. 
 
 And as they walked, Joe, under cover of the dark- 
 ness, eyed his companion with occasional sidelong 
 glances, speculating as to what he wanted with him. 
 He quite understood that his companion was not walk- 
 ing with him for the pleasure of his company. On his 
 part Tresler was wondering how much he ought to 
 tell this man almost a stranger of what he had seen. 
 He felt that some one ought to know some one with 
 more experience than himself. He felt certain that the 
 stealthy visit of the two horsemen was not wholesome. 
 Such espionage pointed to something that was not 
 quite open and aboveboard. 
 
 They reached the corrals, and Joe deposited his 
 burden upon the wooden wall. Then he turned 
 sharply on his companion. 
 
 " Wai, out wi' it, man," he demanded. " Guess 
 you got something you're wantin' to git off'n your 
 chest." 
 
 Tresler laughed softly. " You're pretty sharp, Joe." 
 
 " Pretty sharp, eh ? " returned the little man. " Say, 
 it don't need no razor to cut through the meanin' of a 
 ' tenderfoot.' Wai ? " 
 
 Tresler was looking up at the saddle. It was a 
 small, almost skeleton saddle, such as, at one time, was
 
 76 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 largely used in Texas ; that was before the heavier and 
 more picturesque Mexican saddles came into vogue 
 among the ranchmen. 
 
 " What does Jake want that for ? " he asked. 
 
 His question was an idle one, and merely put for the 
 sake of gaining time while he arrived at a definite de- 
 cision upon the other matter. 
 
 " Guess it's fer some feller to ride to-morrow eh ? 
 Whew 1 " 
 
 The choreman broke off and whistled softly. Some- 
 thing had just occurred to him. He measured Tresler 
 with his eye, and then looked at the short-seated sad- 
 dle with its high cantle and tall, abrupt horn in front. 
 He shook his head. 
 
 Tresler was not heeding him. Suddenly he stopped 
 and sat on the ground, propping his back against the 
 corral wall, while he looked up at Joe. 
 
 " Sit down," he said seriously ; " I've got something 
 rather particular I want to talk about. At least, I 
 think it's particular, being a stranger to the country." 
 
 Without replying, Joe deposited himself on the ground 
 beside his new acquaintance. His face was screwed up 
 into the expression Tresler had begun to recognize as a 
 smile. He took a chew of tobacco and prepared to give 
 his best attention. 
 
 " Git goin'," he observed easily. 
 
 " Well, look here, have we any near neighbors ? " 
 
 " None nigher than Forks 'cep' the Breeds, an* 
 they're nigh on six mile south, out toward the hills. 
 How ? " 
 
 Then Tresler told him what he had seen at the
 
 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 77 
 
 edge of the pinewoods, and the choreman listened 
 with careful attention. At the end of his story Tresler 
 added 
 
 " You see, it's probably nothing. Of course, I know 
 nothing as yet of prairie ways and doings. No doubt 
 it can be explained. But I argued the matter out from 
 my own point of view, and it struck me that two horse- 
 men, approaching the ranch under cover of the forest 
 and a dark night, and not venturing into the open after 
 having arrived, simply didn't want to be seen. And 
 their not wishing to be seen meant that their object in 
 coming wasn't well, just above suspicion." 
 
 " Tol'ble reasonin'," nodded Joe, chewing his cud re- 
 flectively. 
 
 " What do you make of it ? " 
 
 " A whole heap," Joe said, spitting emphatically. 
 " What do I make of it ? Yes, that's it, a whole heap. 
 Guess that feller you see most of had his face covered. 
 Was that cover a mask ? " 
 
 " It might have been." 
 
 "A red mask?" 
 
 " I couldn't see the color. It was too dark. Might 
 have been." 
 
 Joe turned and faced his companion, and, hunching 
 his bent knees into his arms, looked squarely into his 
 eyes. 
 
 " See here, pard, guess you never heard o' hoss 
 thieves ? They ain't likely to mean much to you," he 
 said, with some slight contempt. Then he added, by 
 way of rubbing it in, " You bein' a ' tenderfoot.' Guess 
 you ain't heard tell of Red Mask an' his gang, neither? "
 
 78 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Wrong twice," observed Tresler, with a quiet 
 smile. " I've heard of both horse thieves and Red 
 Mask." 
 
 "You've heard tell of hoss thieves an' Red Mask? 
 Wai, I'm figgerin' you've seen both to-night, anyway ; 
 an' I'll further tell you this if you'd got the drop on 
 him this night an' brought him down, you'd 'a' done 
 what most every feller fer two hundred miles around 
 has been layin' to do fer years, an' you'd 'a' been the 
 biggest pot in Montana by sundown to-morrow." He 
 spoke with an accent of triumph, and paused for effect. 
 " Say, ther* wouldn't 'a' been a feller around as wouldn't 
 'a' taken his hat off to you," he went on, to accentuate 
 the situation. "Say, it was a dandy chance. But 
 ther', you're a ' tenderfoot,' " he added, with a sigh of 
 profound regret. 
 
 Tresler was inclined to laugh, but checked himself as 
 he realized the serious side of the matter. 
 
 " Well, if he were here to-night, what does it por- 
 tend ? " he asked. 
 
 " If he was here to-night it portends a deal," said Joe, 
 sharply. " It portends that the biggest ' tough,' the big- 
 gest man-killer an' hoss thief in the country, is on the 
 war-path, an' ther*!! be trouble around 'fore we're weeks 
 older." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "Who is he? Wai, I 'lows that's a big question. 
 Guess ther' ain't no real sayin'. Some sez he's from 
 across the border, some sez he's a Breed, some sez he's 
 the feller called Duncan, as used to run a bum saloon 
 in Whitewater, an' shot a man in his own bar an'
 
 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 79 
 
 skipped. No one rightly knows, 'cep' he's real ' bad,' 
 an' duffs nigh on to a thousand head o' stock most 
 every year." 
 
 " Then what's to be done? " Tresler asked, watching 
 the little man's twisted face as he munched his to- 
 bacco. 
 
 " What's to be done ? Wai, I don't rightly know. 
 Say, what wus you doin' around that house ? I ain't 
 askin' fer cur'osity. Ye see, if you got tellin' Jake as 
 you wus round ther', it's likely he'd git real mad. Y' 
 see, Jake's dead sweet on Miss Dianny. It gives him 
 the needle that I'm around that house. O' course, ther' 
 ain't nuthin' wi' me an' Miss Dianny, 'cep' we're kind 
 o' friendly. But Jake's that mean-sperrited an' jealous. 
 She hates him like pizen. I know, 'cos I'm kind o' 
 friendly wi' her, so to speak, meanin' nuthin', o' course. 
 But that ain't the point. If you wus to tell him he'd 
 make your head swim." 
 
 " Oh, hang Jake ! " exclaimed Tresler, impatiently ; 
 " I'm sick to death of hearing of his terrorizing. He 
 can't eat me " 
 
 " No, but he'll make you wish he could," put in the 
 choreman, quietly. 
 
 " He'd find me a tough mouthful," Tresler laughed. 
 
 " Mebbe. How came you around that house ? " 
 
 " I simply wandered there by chance. I was smok- 
 ing and taking a stroll. I'd been all round the ranch." 
 
 " That wouldn't suit Jake. No." Joe was silent for 
 a moment. 
 
 Tresler waited. At last the little man made a move 
 and spat out his chew.
 
 8o THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 "That's it," he said, slapping his thigh triumphantly 
 " that's it, sure. Say, we needn't to tell Jake nuthin'. 
 I'll git around among the boys, an' let 'em know as I 
 heerd tell of Red Mask bein' in the region o' the Bend, 
 an' how a Breed give me warnin', bein' scared to come 
 along to the ranch lest Red Mask got wind of it an' 
 shut his head lights fer him. Ther' ain't no use in rilin' 
 Jake. Meanin' for you. He's layin' fer you anyways, 
 as I'm guessin' you'll likely know. Savee ? Lie low, 
 most as low as a dead cat in a well. I'll play this 
 hand, wi'out you figgerin* in it ; which, fer you, I guess 
 is best." 
 
 Tresler got up and dusted his clothes. There was a 
 slight pause while he fingered the leather-capped stir- 
 rups of the stock saddle on the wall. 
 
 Joe grew impatient. " Wai ? " he said at last ; " y* 
 ain't bustin' wi' 'preciation." 
 
 " On the contrary, I appreciate your shrewdness and 
 kindly interest on my behalf most cordially," Tresler 
 replied, dropping the stirrup and turning to his com- 
 panion ; " but, you see, there's one little weakness in 
 the arrangement. Jake's liable to underestimate the 
 importance of the nocturnal visits unless he knows the 
 real facts. Besides " 
 
 " Besides," broke in Joe, with an impatience bred of 
 his reading through Tresler's lame objection, " you jest 
 notion to rile Jake some. Wai, you're a fool, Tresler 
 a dog-gone fool ! Guess you'll strike a snag, an* 
 snags mostly hurts. Howsum, I ain't no wet-nurse, 
 an' ef you think to bluff Jake Harnach, get right 
 ahead an' bluff. An' when you bluff, bluff hard, an'
 
 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 81 
 
 back it, or you'll drop your wad sudden. Guess I'll 
 turn in." 
 
 Joe moved off and Tresler followed. At the door of 
 the bunkhouse they parted, for Joe slept in a lean-to 
 against the kitchen of the rancher's house. They had 
 said " good-night," and Joe was moving away when he 
 suddenly changed his mind and came back again. 
 
 " Say, ther' ain't nothin' like a ' tenderfoot ' fer bein' 
 a fool, 'less it's a settin' hen," he said, with profound 
 contempt but with evident good-will. " You're kind o' 
 gritty, Tresler, I guess, but mebbe you'll be ast to git 
 across a toPble broncho in the mornin'. That's as may 
 be. But ef it's so, jest take two thinks 'fore settin' 
 your six foot o' body on a saddle built fer a feller o' five 
 foot one. It ain't reason'ble, an' it's dangerous. It's 
 most like tryin' to do that as isn't, never wus, and ain't 
 like to be, an' if it did, wouldn't amount to a heap any- 
 way, 'cep' it's a heap o' foolishness." 
 
 Tresler laughed. " All right. Two into one won't 
 go without leaving a lot over. Good-night, Joe." 
 
 " So long. Them fellers as gits figgerin' mostly gits 
 crazed fer doin' what's impossible. Guess I ain't 
 stuck on figgers nohow." 
 
 And the man vanished into the night, while Tresler 
 passed into the bunkhouse to get what little sleep his 
 first night as a ranchman might afford him.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 
 
 BUT the story of the nocturnal visit of the horse 
 thieves did not reach the foreman next morning. Jake 
 hailed Tresler down to the corrals directly after break- 
 fast. He was to have a horse told off to him, and this 
 matter, and the presence of others, made him postpone 
 his purpose to a more favorable time. 
 
 When he arrived at the corrals, three of the boys, 
 under Jake's superintendence, were cutting out a big, 
 raw-boned, mud-brown mare from a bunch of about 
 sixty colts. 
 
 She stood well over sixteen hands a clumsy, big- 
 footed, mean-looking, clean-limbed lady, rough-coated, 
 and scored all over with marks of " savaging." She 
 was fiddle-headed and as lean as a hay-rake, but in 
 build she was every inch a grand piece of horse-flesh. 
 And Tresler was sufficient horseman to appreciate her 
 lines, as well as the vicious, roving eye which displayed 
 the flashing whites at every turn. 
 
 Jacob Smith was after her with a rope, and the on- 
 lookers watched his lithe, active movements as he fol- 
 lowed her, wildly racing round and round the corral 
 seeking a means of escape. 
 
 Suddenly the man made a dart in to head her off. 
 She turned to retreat, but the other two were there to
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 83 
 
 frustrate her purpose. Just for a second she paused 
 irresolutely ; then, lowering her head and setting her 
 ears back, she came open-mouthed for Jacob. But he 
 anticipated her intention, and, as she came, sprang 
 lightly aside, while she swept on, lashing out her heels 
 at him as she went. It was the opportunity the man 
 sought, and, in the cloud of dust that rose in her wake, 
 his lariat shot out low over the ground. The next mo- 
 ment she fell headlong, roped by the two forefeet, and 
 all three men sprang in to the task of securing her. 
 
 It was done so quickly that Tresler had hardly real- 
 ized her capture when Jake's harsh voice rang out 
 
 " That's your mare, Tresler ! " he cried ; " guess that 
 plug of yours'll do for fancy ridin'. You'll break this 
 one to handlin' cattle. You're a tolerable weight, but 
 she's equal to it." He laughed, and his laugh sent an 
 angry flush into the other's face. " Say," he went on, 
 in calmly contemptuous tones ; " she's wild some. But 
 she's been saddled before. Oh, yes, she ain't raw off 
 the grass. You, comin' from down east, can mebbe 
 ride. They mostly reckon to be able to ride till they 
 come along to these parts." 
 
 Tresler understood the man's game ; he also under- 
 stood and fully appreciated Joe Nelson's warning. He 
 glanced at the saddle still hanging on the corral wall. 
 It would be simple suicide for him to attempt to ride 
 an outlaw with a saddle fit for a boy of fifteen. And it 
 was Jake's purpose, trading on his ignorance of such 
 matters, to fool him into using a saddle that would 
 probably rupture him. 
 
 " I presume she's the worst outlaw on the ranch," he
 
 84 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 replied quietly, though his blue eyes shone dangerously. 
 " She must be," he went on, as Jake made no answer, 
 " or you wouldn't give her to me, and point out that 
 she's been saddled before." 
 
 " Kind o' weakenin' ?" Jake asked with a sneer. 
 
 " No. I was just thinking of my saddle. It will be 
 no use on her ; she'd burst the girths." 
 
 " That needn't worry you any. There's a stock sad- 
 dle there, on the fence." 
 
 " Thank you, I'll ride on a saddle that fits a man of 
 my size, or you can ride the mare yourself." 
 
 Tresler was round and facing his man, and his words 
 came in a tone the other was unaccustomed to. But 
 Jake kept quite cool while he seemed to be debating 
 with himself. Then he abruptly turned away with a 
 short, vicious laugh. 
 
 " Guess the ' tenderfoot's ' plumb scared to ride her, 
 boys," he called out to the men, relapsing into the ver- 
 nacular as he addressed them. " Any o' you boys 
 lendin' a saddle, or shall we find him a rockin'-hoss to 
 run around on ? " 
 
 Tresler fell headlong into the trap. Jake had drawn 
 him with a skill worthy of a better object. 
 
 " If there is anybody scared, I don't think it is I, 
 boys," he said with a laugh as harsh as Jake's had 
 been. " If one of you will lend me a man's saddle, I'll 
 break that mare or she'll break me/' 
 
 Now, Tresler was a very ordinary horseman. He 
 had never in his life sat a horse that knew the first rudi- 
 ments of bucking ; but at that moment he would have 
 mounted to the back of any horse, even if his life were
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 85 
 
 to pay the forfeit next moment. Besides, even in his 
 blind anger, he realized that this sort of experience 
 must come sooner or later. " Broncho-busting" would 
 be part of his training. Therefore, when some one sug- 
 gested Arizona's saddle since Arizona was on the sick 
 list he jumped at the chance, for that individual was 
 about his size. 
 
 The mare was now on her legs again, and stood 
 ready bridled, while two men held her with the lariat 
 drawn tight over her windpipe. She stood as still as a 
 rock, and to judge by the flashing of her eyes, inwardly 
 raging. They led her out of the corral, and Arizona's 
 saddle was brought and the stirrups adjusted to Tres- 
 ler's requirements. She was taken well clear of the 
 buildings into the open, and Jacob, with the subtlety 
 and art acquired by long practice in breaking horses, 
 proceeded to saddle her. Lew and Raw Harris choked 
 her quiet with the lariat, and though she physically at- 
 tempted to resent the indignity of being saddled, the 
 cinchas were drawn tight. 
 
 Tresler had come over by himself, leaving Jake to 
 watch the proceedings from the vantage ground of the 
 rise toward the house. He was quite quiet, and the 
 boys stole occasional apprehensive glances at him. 
 They knew this mare ; they knew that she was a hope- 
 less outlaw and fit only for the knacker's yard. At 
 last Jacob beckoned him over. 
 
 " Say, ther' ain't no need fer you to ride her, mister/' 
 he said, feeling that it was his duty as a man to warn 
 him. " She's the worstest devil on the range, an' she'll 
 break your neck an' jump on you with her maulin'
 
 86 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 great hoofs, sure. I guess ther* ain't a ' buster ' in the 
 country 'ud tackle her fer less 'an a ft' dollar wager, 
 she's that mean." 
 
 " And she looks all you say of her, Jacob," replied 
 Tresler, with a grim smile. " Thanks for your warn- 
 ing, but I'm going to try and ride her," he went on 
 with quiet decision. " Not because I think I can, but 
 because that bully up there " with a nod in Jake's di- 
 rection " would only be too glad of the chance of 
 taunting me with ' weakening.' She shall throw me 
 till she makes it a physical impossibility for me to mount 
 her again. All I ask is that you fellows stand by to 
 keep her off when I'm on the ground." 
 
 By this time Jacob had secured the saddle, and now 
 Tresler walked round the great beast, patting her 
 gently and speaking to her. And she watched him 
 with an evil, staring eye that boded nothing good. 
 Then he took a rawhide quirt from Jacob and, twist- 
 ing it on his wrist, mounted her, while the men kept 
 the choking rope taut about her throat, and she stood 
 like a statue, except for the heaving of her sides as she 
 gasped for breath. 
 
 He gathered the reins up, which had been passed 
 through the noose of the lariat, and sat ready. Jacob 
 drew off, and held the end of the rope. Tresler gave 
 the word. The two men left her, while, with a shake 
 and a swift jerk, Jacob flung the lariat clear of the mare's 
 head. In an instant the battle had begun. 
 
 Down went the lady's head (the boys called her by a 
 less complimentary name), and she shot into the air 
 with her back humped till she shaped like an inverted
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 87 
 
 U with its extremities narrowed and almost touching. 
 There was no seesaw bucking about her. It was stiff- 
 legged, with her four feet bunched together and her 
 great fiddle-head lost in their midst. And at the first 
 jump Tresler shot a foot out of the saddle, lurched 
 forward and then back, and finally came down where 
 he had started from. And as he fell heavily into the 
 saddle his hand struck against a coiled blanket strap 
 behind the cantle, and he instinctively grabbed hold of 
 it and clung to it for dear life. 
 
 Up she shot again, and deliberately swung round in 
 the air and came down with her head where her tail 
 had been. It was a marvelous, cat-like spring, calcu- 
 lated to unseat the best of horsemen. Tresler was half 
 out of the saddle again, but the blanket strap saved 
 him, and the next buck threw him back into his seat. 
 Now her jumps came like the shots from a gatling gun, 
 and the man on her back was dazed, and his head 
 swam, and he felt the blood rushing to his ear-drums. 
 But with desperate resolve he clung to his strap, and so 
 retained his seat. But it couldn't last, and he knew it, 
 although those looking on began to have hopes that 
 he would tire the vixen out. But they didn't know the 
 demon that possessed her. 
 
 Suddenly it seemed as though an accident had hap- 
 pened to her. Her legs absolutely shot from under her 
 as she landed from one terrific buck, and she plunged 
 to the ground. Then her intention became apparent. 
 But luckily the antic had defeated its own end, for 
 Tresler was flung wide, and, as she rolled on the 
 ground, he scrambled clear of her body.
 
 88 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 He struggled to his feet, but not before she had 
 realized his escape, and, with the savage instinct of a 
 man-eater, had sprung to her feet and was making for 
 him open-mouthed. It was Jacob's readiness and won- 
 derful skill that saved him. The rope whistled through 
 the air and caught her, the noose falling over her head 
 with scarcely room between her nose and her victim's 
 back for the rawhide to pass. In a flash the strands 
 strung tight, and her head swung round with such a 
 jolt that she was almost throw r n from her feet. 
 
 Again she was choked down, and Tresler, breathing 
 desperately, but with his blood fairly up, was on top of 
 her almost before the man holding her realized his in- 
 tention. The mare was foaming at the mouth, and a 
 lather of sweat dripped from her tuckered flanks. The 
 whites of her eyes were flaming scarlet now, and when 
 she was let loose again she tried to savage her rider's 
 legs. Failing this, she threw her head up violently, 
 and, all unprepared for it, Tresler received the blow 
 square in the mouth. Then she was up on her hind 
 legs, fighting the air with her front feet, and a moment 
 later crashed over backward. And again it seemed 
 like a miracle that he escaped ; he slid out of the saddle, 
 not of his own intention, and rolled clear as she came 
 down. 
 
 This time she was caught before she could struggle 
 to her feet, and when at last she stood up she was 
 dazed and shaken, though still unconquered. 
 
 Again Tresler mounted. He was bruised and bleed- 
 ing, and shaking as with an ague. And now the mare 
 tried a new move. She bucked ; but it was a running
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 89 
 
 buck, her body twisting and writhing with curious ser- 
 pentine undulations, and her body seemed to shrink 
 under his legs as though the brute were drawing in her 
 whole frame of a settled purpose. Then, having done 
 enough in this direction, she suddenly stood, and be- 
 gan to kick violently, with her head stretched low be- 
 tween her forelegs. And Tresler felt himself sliding, 
 saddle and all, over her withers ! Suddenly the blanket 
 strap failed him. It cracked and gave, and he shot 
 from the saddle like a new-fired rocket. 
 
 And when the mare had been caught again she was 
 without the saddle, which was now lying close to where 
 her rider had fallen. She had bucked and kicked her- 
 self clean through the still-fastened cinchas. 
 
 Tresler was bleeding from nose and ears when he 
 mounted again. The saddle was cinched up very 
 tight, and the mare herself was so blown that she was 
 unable to distend herself to resist the pressure. But, 
 nevertheless, she fought as though a devil possessed 
 her, and, exhausted, and without the help of the blanket 
 strap, he was thrown again and again. Five times he 
 fell ; and each time, as no bones were broken, he re- 
 mounted her. But he was growing helpless. 
 
 But the men looking on realized that which was lost 
 upon the rider himself. The mare was done ; she was 
 fairly beaten. The fifth time he climbed into the saddle 
 her bucks wouldn't have thrown a babe ; and when they 
 beheld this, they, with one accord, shouted to him. 
 
 " Say, thrash her, boy ! Lace h out of her 1 " 
 
 roared Jacob. 
 
 "Cut her liver out wi' that quirt I " cried Lew.
 
 90 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Ay, run her till she can't see," added Raw. 
 
 And Tresler obeyed mechanically. He was too ex- 
 hausted to do much ; but he managed to bring the 
 quirt down over her shoulders, until, maddened with 
 pain, she rose up on her hind legs, gave a mighty 
 bound forward, and raced away down the trail like a 
 creature possessed. 
 
 It was dinner-time when Tresler saw the ranch again. 
 He returned with the mare jaded and docile. He had 
 recovered from the battle, while she had scarcely en- 
 ergy enough to put one foot before the other. She was 
 conquered. To use Arizona's expression, when, from 
 the doorway of the bunkhouse, he saw the mare crawl- 
 ing up the trail toward the ranch 
 
 " Guess she's loaded down till her springs is nigh 
 busted." 
 
 And Tresler laughed outright in Jake's face when 
 that individual came into the barn, while he was rub- 
 bing her down, and generally returning good for evil, 
 and found fault with his work. 
 
 " Where, I'd like to know, have you been all this 
 time?" he asked angrily. Then, as his eyes took in 
 the pitiful sight of the exhausted mare, "Say, you've 
 ruined that mare, and you'll have to make it good. 
 We don't keep horses for the hands to founder. D'you 
 see what you've done ? You've broke her heart." 
 
 " And if I'd had the chance I'd have broken her neck 
 too," Tresler retorted, with so much heat, that, in self- 
 defense, the foreman was forced to leave him alone. 
 
 That afternoon the real business of ranching began. 
 Lew Cawley was sent out with Tresler to instruct him
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 91 
 
 in mending barbed-wire fences. A distant pasture had 
 been broken into by the roving cattle outside. Lew 
 remained with him long enough to show him how to 
 strain the wires up and splice them, then he rode off to 
 other work. 
 
 Tresler was glad to find himself out on the prairie 
 away from the unbearable influence of the ranch fore- 
 man. The afternoon was hot, but it was bright with 
 the sunshine, which, in the shadow of the mountains, 
 is so bracing. The pastures he was working in were 
 different from the lank weedy-grown prairie, although 
 of the same origin. They were irrigated, and had been 
 sown and re-sown with timothy grass and clover. The 
 grass rose high up to the horse's knees as he rode, and 
 the quiet, hard-working animal, his own property, rev- 
 eled in the sweet-scented fodder which he could nip 
 at as he moved leisurely along. 
 
 And Tresler worked very easily that afternoon. Not 
 out of indolence, not out of any ill-feeling toward his 
 foreman. He was weary after his morning's exertions, 
 and, besides, the joy of being out in the pure, bright 
 air, on that wondrous sea of rolling green grass with 
 its illimitable suggestion of freedom and its gracious 
 odors, seduced him to an indolence quite foreign to 
 him. He was beyond the view of the ranch, with two 
 miles of prairie rollers intervening, so he did his work 
 without concern for time. 
 
 It was well after four o'clock when the last strand of 
 wire was strung tight. Then, for want of a shady tree 
 to lean his back against, he sat down by a fence 
 post and smoked, while his horse, with girths
 
 92 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 loosened, and bit removed from its mouth, grazed joy- 
 fully near by. 
 
 And then he slept. The peace of the prairie world 
 got hold of him ; the profound silence lulled his fagged 
 nerves, his pipe went out, and he slept. 
 
 He awoke with a start. Nor, for the moment, did 
 he know where he was. His pipe had fallen from his 
 mouth, and he found himself stretched full length upon 
 the ground. But something unusual had awakened 
 him, and when he had gathered his scattered senses he 
 looked about him to ascertain what the nature of the 
 disturbance had been. The next moment a laughing 
 voice hailed him. 
 
 " Is this the way you learn ranching, Mr. Tresler ? 
 Oh, shame 1 Sleeping the glorious hours of sunshine 
 away." 
 
 It was the rich, gentle voice of Diane Marbolt, and 
 its tone was one of quiet raillery. She was gazing 
 down at him from the back of her sturdy broncho 
 mare, Bessie, with eyes from which, for the moment at 
 least, all sadness had vanished. 
 
 Just now her lips were wreathed in a bright smile, 
 and her soft brown eyes were dancing with a joyous 
 light, which, when Tresler had first seen her, had 
 seemed impossible to them. She was out on the 
 prairie, on the back of her favorite, Bessie ; she was 
 away from the ranch, from the home that possessed so 
 many cares for her. She was out in her world, the 
 world she loved, the world that was the only world for 
 her, breathing the pure, delicious air which, even in 
 moments of profound unhappiness, had still power to
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 93 
 
 carry her back to the days of happy, careless child- 
 hood ; had still power to banish all but pleasant 
 thoughts, and to bestow upon her that wild sense of 
 freedom such as is only given to those who have made 
 their home on its virgin bosom. 
 
 Tresler beheld this girl now in her native mood. He 
 saw before him the true child of the prairie such as 
 she really was. She was clad in a blue dungaree habit 
 and straw sun-hat, and he marveled at the ravishing 
 picture she made. He raised himself upon his elbow 
 and stared at her, and a sensation of delight swept over 
 him as he devoured each detail of face and figure. 
 Then, suddenly, he was recalled to his senses by the 
 abrupt fading of the smile from the face before him ; 
 and he flushed with a rueful sense of guiltiness. 
 
 " Fairly caught napping, Miss Marbolt," he said, in 
 confusion. " I acknowledge the sloth, but not the 
 implied laxness anent ranching. Believe me, I have 
 learned an ample lesson to-day. I now have a fuller 
 appreciation of our worthy foreman ; a fair knowledge 
 of the horse, most accurately termed ' outlaw/ as the 
 bruised condition of my body can testify ; and, as for 
 barbed-wire fencing, I really believe I have discovered 
 every point in its construction worthy of consider- 
 ation." 
 
 He raised a pair of lacerated hands for the girl's in- 
 spection, and rose, smiling, to his feet 
 
 " I apologize." Diane was smiling again now as 
 she noted the network of scratches upon his out- 
 stretched palms. " You certainly have not been idle," 
 she added, significantly.
 
 94 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Then she became serious with a suddenness that 
 showed how very near the surface, how strongly 
 marked was that quiet, thoughtful nature her com- 
 panion had first realized in her. 
 
 " But I saw you on that mare, and I thought you 
 would surely be killed. Do you know they've tried to 
 break her for two seasons, and failed hopelessly. What 
 happened after she bolted ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing much. I rode her to Forks and back 
 twice." 
 
 " Forty miles ! Good gracious ! What is she like 
 now?" " 
 
 " Done up, of course. Jake assures me I've broken 
 her heart ; but I haven't. My Lady Jezebel has a heart 
 of stone that would take something in the nature of a 
 sledge-hammer to break. She'll buck like the mischief 
 again to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The girl nodded. She had witnessed the battle be- 
 tween the "tenderfoot" and the mare; and, now that 
 it was all over, she felt pleased that he had won. And 
 there was no mistaking the approval in the glance she 
 gave him. She understood the spirit that had moved 
 him to drive the mare that forty miles ; nor, in spite of 
 a certain sympathy for the jaded creature, did she con- 
 demn him for it. She was too much a child of the 
 prairie to morbidly sentimentalize over the matter. 
 The mare was a savage of the worst type, and she 
 knew that prairie horses in their breaking often require 
 drastic treatment. It was the stubborn, purposeful 
 character of the man that she admired, and thought
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 95 
 
 most of. He had carried out a task that the best horse- 
 breaker in the country might reasonably have shrunk 
 from, and all to please the brutal nature of Jake Har- 
 nach. 
 
 "And you've christened her ' Lady Jezebel' ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 Tresler laughed. "Why, yes, it seems to suit her," 
 he said indifferently. 
 
 Then a slight pause followed which amounted almost 
 to awkwardness. The girl had come to find him. Her 
 visit was not a matter of chance. She wanted to talk 
 to this man from the East. And, somehow, Tresler 
 understood that this was so. For some moments she 
 sat stroking Bessie's shoulder with her rawhide riding- 
 switch. The mare grew restive. She, too, seemed to 
 understand something of the awkwardness, and did her 
 best to break it up by one or two of her frivolous gam- 
 bols. When she had been pacified, the girl leaned 
 forward in her saddle and looked straight into her 
 companion's eyes. 
 
 " Tell me," she said, abruptly ; " why did you ride 
 that animal ? " 
 
 The man laughed a little harshly. " Because well, 
 because I hadn't sense enough to refuse, I suppose." 
 
 " Ah, I understand. Jake Harnach." 
 
 Tresler shrugged. 
 
 " I came out purposely to speak to you," the girl 
 went on, in a quiet, direct manner. There was not the 
 least embarrassment now. She had made up her mind 
 to avoid all chance of misunderstanding. " I want to 
 put matters quite plainly before you. This morning's
 
 96 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 business was only a sequel to your meeting with Jake, 
 or rather a beginning of the sequel." 
 
 Tresler shook his head and smiled. " Not the be- 
 ginning of the sequel. That occurred last evening, 
 after I left you." 
 
 Diane looked a swift inquiry. 
 
 " Yes, Jake is not an easy man. But believe me, 
 Miss Marbolt, you need have no fear. I see what it 
 is ; you, in the kindness of your heart, dread that I, a 
 stranger here in your land, in your home, may be mal- 
 treated, or even worse by that unconscionable ruffian. 
 Knowing your father's affliction, you fear that I have 
 no protection from Jake's murderous savagery, and 
 you are endeavoring bravely to thrust your frail self 
 between us, and so stave off a catastrophe. Have no 
 fear. I do not anticipate a collision. He is only an 
 atrocious bully." 
 
 " He is more than that. You underestimate him." 
 
 The girl's face had darkened. Her lips were firmly 
 compressed, and an angry fire burned in her usually 
 soft eyes. 
 
 Tresler, watching, read the hatred for Jake ; read the 
 hatred, and saw that which seemed so out of place in 
 the reliant little face. A pronounced fear was also ex- 
 pressed, and the two were so marked that it was hard 
 to say which feeling predominated. Hatred had stirred 
 depths of fire in her beautiful eyes, but fear had paled 
 her features, had set drawn lines about her mouth and 
 brows. He wondered. 
 
 " You are right, Mr. Tresler, in that you think I dread 
 for your safety," she went on presently. " It was cer-
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 97 
 
 tainly that dread that brought me out here to-day. 
 You do not anticipate a collision because you are a 
 brave man. You have no fear, therefore you give no 
 thought to possibilities. I am weak and a woman, 
 and I see with eyes of understanding and knowledge 
 of Jake, and I know that the collision will be forced 
 upon you ; and, further, when the trouble comes, Jake 
 will take no chances. But you must not think too well 
 of me. Believe me, there is selfishness at the root of 
 my anxiety. Do you not see what trouble it will cause 
 to us ; my father, me ? " 
 
 Tresler looked away. The girl had a strange in- 
 sistence. It seemed to him folly to consider the matter 
 so seriously. He was convinced that she was holding 
 something back ; that she was concealing her real 
 reason perhaps the reason of her own fear of Jake 
 for thus importuning him. It did not take him long 
 to make up his mind with those lovely, appealing eyes 
 upon him. He turned back to her with a frank smile, 
 and held out his hand. Diane responded, and they 
 shook hands like two friends making a bargain. 
 
 " You are right, Miss Marbolt," he said. " I promise 
 you to do all in my power to keep the peace with Jake. 
 But," and here he held up a finger in mock warning, 
 " anything in the nature of a physical attack will be 
 resented to the last." 
 
 Diane nodded. She had obtained all the assurance 
 he would give, she knew, and wisely refrained from 
 further pressure. 
 
 Now a silence fell. The sun was dropping low in 
 the -west, and already the shadows on the grass were
 
 98 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 lengthening. Tresler brought his grazing horse back. 
 When he returned Diane reverted to something he had 
 said before. 
 
 " This ' sequel ' you spoke of. You didn't tell me 
 it." Her manner had changed, and she spoke almost 
 lightly. 
 
 " The matter of the sequel was a trivial affair, and 
 only took the form of Jake's spleen in endeavoring to 
 make my quarters as uncomfortable for me as possible. 
 No, the incident I had chiefly in mind was something 
 altogether different. It was all so strange so very 
 strange," he went on reflectively. " One adventure on 
 top of another ever since my arrival. The last, and 
 strangest of all, did not occur until nearly midnight." 
 
 He looked up with a smile, but only to find that 
 Diane's attention was apparently wandering. 
 
 The girl was gazing out over the waving grass-land 
 with deep, brooding, dreamy eyes. There was no 
 anger in them now, only her features looked a little 
 more drawn and hard. The man waited for a moment, 
 then as she did not turn he went on. 
 
 " You have strange visitors at the ranch, Miss Mar- 
 bolt very strange. They come stealthily in the dead 
 of night ; they come through the shelter of the pine- 
 woods, where it is dark, almost black, at night. They 
 come with faces masked at least one face " 
 
 He got no further. There was no lack of effect now. 
 Diane was round upon him, gazing at him with fright- 
 ened eyes. 
 
 " You saw them ? " she cried ; and a strident ring 
 had replaced her usually soft tones.
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 99 
 
 "Them? Who?" 
 
 For a moment they stared into each other's eyes. 
 He inquiringly ; she with fear and mingled horror. 
 
 " These these visitors." The words came almost 
 in a whisper. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "And what were they like?" 
 
 The girl spoke apprehensively. 
 
 Then Tresler told his story as he had told it to Joe 
 Nelson. And Diane hung on every word he uttered, 
 searching him through and through with her troubled 
 eyes. 
 
 " What are you going to do about it ? " she asked 
 as he finished. 
 
 Tresler was struck with the peculiarity of the ques- 
 tion. She expressed no surprise, no wonder. It 
 seemed as though the matter was in nowise new to 
 her. Her whole solicitude was in her anticipation of 
 what he would do about it. 
 
 " I am not sure," he said, concealing his surprise 
 under a leisurely manner. " I had intended to tell 
 Jake," he went on a moment later, " only the Lady 
 Jezebel put it out of my head. I told Joe Nelson last 
 night. He told me I had seen Red Mask, the cattle 
 thief, and one of his men. He also tried to get me to 
 promise that I would say nothing about it to Jake. I 
 refused to give that promise. He gave me no suffi- 
 cient reasons, you see, and well, I failed to see the 
 necessity for silence." 
 
 " But there is a necessity, Mr. Tresler. The greatest." 
 Diane's tone was thrilling with an almost fierce earnest-
 
 ioo THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 ness. "Joe was right. Jake is the last person to whom 
 you should tell your story." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Why ? " Diane echoed, with a mirthless laugh. 
 11 Pshaw ! " 
 
 " Yes, why ? I have a right to know, Miss Marbolt." 
 
 "You shall know all I can tell you." The girl 
 seemed on the verge of making an impulsive state- 
 ment, but suddenly stopped ; and when at last she did 
 proceed her tone was more calm and so low as to be 
 little above a whisper. "Visitors such as you have 
 seen have been seen by others before. The story, as 
 you have told it, has in each case been told to Jake by 
 the unfortunate who witnessed these strange move- 
 ments at night " 
 
 " Unfortunate ? " 
 
 " Yes. The informant has always met with misfor- 
 tune, accident whatever you like to call it. Listen ; 
 it is a long story, but I will merely outline the details I 
 wish to impress on you. Some years ago this Red 
 Mask appeared from no one knows where. Curiously 
 enough his appearance was in the vicinity of this 
 ranch. We were robbed, and he vanished. Some 
 time later he was seen again, much the same as you 
 saw him last night. One of our boys gave the warn- 
 ing to Jake. Two days later the poor fellow who 
 informed upon him was found shot on the trail into 
 Forks. Later, again, another hand witnessed a some- 
 what similar scene and gave information. His end was 
 by drowning in a shallow part of the river. Folks at- 
 tributed his end to drink, but Again Red Mask
 
 TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION 101 
 
 showed up always at night again he was seen, and 
 Jake was warned. The victim this time met his death 
 by the falling of a rock in the foot-hills. The rock 
 killed horse and rider. And so it has gone on at vary- 
 ing intervals. Eight men have been similarly treated. 
 The ninth, Arizona, barely escaped with his life a little 
 while ago. I've no doubt but that some accident will 
 happen to him yet. And, mark this, in each case the 
 warning has gone first to Jake. I may be altogether 
 wrong ; certainly other folks do not look upon the 
 death of these various men with suspicion, but I have 
 watched, and reasoned out all I have seen. And " 
 
 " Why, Jake must " 
 
 "Hush!" 
 
 Diane gazed round her apprehensively. 
 
 " No, no, Mr. Tresler," she went on hurriedly, " I do 
 not say that ; I dare not think of it. Jake has been 
 with us so long ; he cares for father's interest as for his 
 own. In spite of his terrible nature he is father's 
 friend." 
 
 " And the man who intends to marry you," Tresler 
 added to himself. Aloud he asked, "Then how do 
 you account for it ? " 
 
 "That's just it. I I don't account for it. I only 
 warn you not to take your story to Jake." 
 
 Tresler drew a step nearer, and stood so close to her 
 that her dungaree skirt was almost touching him. He 
 looked up in a manner that compelled her gaze. 
 
 "You do account for it, Miss Marbolt," he said 
 emphatically. 
 
 Nor did the girl attempt denial. Just for a moment
 
 102 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 there was a breathless silence. Then Bessie pawed 
 the ground, and thrust her nose into the face of Tres- 
 ler's horse in friendly, caressing fashion ; and the 
 movement broke the spell. 
 
 " Urge me no further, Mr. Tresler," Diane exclaimed 
 appealingly. " Do not make me say something I have 
 no right to say ; something I might have cause to re- 
 gret all my life. Believe me, I hardly know what to 
 believe, and what not to believe ; I hardly know what to 
 think. I can only speak as my instinct guides me. Oh, 
 Mr. Tresler, I I can trust you. Yes I know I can." 
 
 The girl's appeal had its effect. Tresler reached up 
 and caught the little outstretched hands. 
 
 " Yes, you can trust me, Miss Marbolt," he said with 
 infinite kindness. "You have done the very best 
 thing you could have done. You have given me your 
 confidence a trouble that I can see has caused you 
 ages of unhappiness. I confess you have opened up 
 
 suspicions that seem almost preposterous, but you " 
 
 He broke off, and stood gazing down thoughtfully at 
 the two hands he still held clasped within his. Then 
 he seemed to become suddenly aware of the position, 
 and, with a slight laugh, released them. " Pardon 
 me," he said, glancing up into the troubled eyes with 
 a kindly smile. " I was dreaming. Come, let us re- 
 turn to the ranch. It is time. It will be pleasant 
 riding in the cool. By Jove, I begin to think that it is 
 more than possible I owe Jake considerable gratitude 
 after all." 
 
 "You owe him nothing," answered Diane, with 
 angry emphasis. " You owe him nothing but obedi-
 
 103 
 
 ence as a ranch hand, and that you will have to pay 
 him. For the rest, avoid him as you would a pest." 
 
 Tresler sprang into the saddle, and the horses ambled 
 leisurely off in the direction of the ranch. And, as he 
 rode, he set aside all thoughts of Jake and of Red 
 Mask. He thought only of the girl herself, of her de- 
 lightful companionship. 
 
 His steady-going horse, with due regard for the sex 
 of his companion, allowed Bess to lead him by a neck. 
 He traveled amiably by her side, every now and then 
 raising his nose as though to bite his spirited little 
 companion, but it was only pretense. Nor did Tresler 
 urge him faster. He preferred that they should travel 
 thus. He could gaze to his heart's content upon Diane 
 without displaying rudeness. He could watch the trim, 
 erect figure, poised so easily and gracefully upon the 
 saddle. She rode like one born to the saddle, and by 
 the gait of her mare, he could see that her hands were 
 of the lightest, yet firm and convincing to the high- 
 mettled animal they controlled. 
 
 The girl was a perfect picture as she rode ; her rich, 
 dark hair was loosely coiled, and several waving ring- 
 lets had fluffed loose with the breeze and motion of 
 riding, and strayed from the shadow of her wide hat. 
 Tresler's thoughts went back to his home ; and, he 
 told himself, none of the horsewomen he had known 
 could have displayed such an abundant grace in the 
 saddle with their rigid habits and smart hats. There 
 was nothing of the riding-school here ; just the horse- 
 manship that is so much a natural instinct. 
 
 And so they rode on to the ranch.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR 
 
 ALL was still and drowsy about the ranch. Every 
 available hand was out at work upon some set task, 
 part of the daily routine of the cattle world. Mosquito 
 Bend was a splendid example of discipline, for Jake was 
 never the man to let his men remain idle. Even 
 Arizona had been set to herd the milch cows and gen- 
 erally tend the horses remaining in the barn ; and 
 Tresler, too, was further acquainting himself with the 
 cantankerous nature of barbed-wire fencing. 
 
 On this particular afternoon there was nothing about 
 the ranch to indicate the undercurrent of trouble 
 Tresler had so quickly discovered to be flowing be- 
 neath its calm surface. The sun was pouring down 
 upon the wiltering foliage with a fierceness which had 
 set the insect world droning its drowsy melody ; the 
 earth was already parching ; the sloughs were already 
 dry, and the tall grass therein was rapidly ripening 
 against the season of haying. But in spite of the seem- 
 ing peace ; in spite of the cloudless sky, the pastoral 
 beauty of the scene, the almost inaudible murmur of 
 the distant river, the tide was flowing swiftly and surely. 
 It was leaping with the roar of a torrent. 
 
 A clatter of horse's hoofs broke up the quiet, and 
 came rattling over the river trail. The noise reached
 
 THE KILLING OF HANSON ORR 105 
 
 Jake's ears and set him alert. He recognized the eager 
 haste, the terrific speed, of the animal approaching. 
 He rose from his bunk and stood ready, and a look of 
 deep interest was in his bold black eyes. Suddenly a 
 horseman came into view. He was leaning well over 
 his horse's neck, urging to a race with whip and spur. 
 Jake saw him sweep by and breast the rise to the 
 rancher's house. 
 
 At the verandah the man flung off his horse, and left 
 the drooping beast standing while he hammered at the 
 door. There was some delay, and he repeated his 
 summons still more forcibly, adding his voice to his de- 
 mand. 
 
 " Hello there ! " he called. " Any one in ? " 
 
 " Archie Orr," Jake muttered to himself, as he stepped 
 out of his hut. 
 
 The next moment the man at the verandah was 
 caught up in the full blast of the foreman's half-savage 
 and wholly hectoring protest. 
 
 " What blazin' racket are you raisin' ther* ? " he 
 roared, charging up the hill with heavy, hurried strides. 
 "This ain't Skitter Reach, you dog-gone coyote, nor 
 that ain't your pap's shanty. What's itchin' you, blast 
 you ? " 
 
 Archie swung round at the first shout. There was a 
 wild expression on his somewhat weak face. It was 
 the face of a weak nature suddenly worked up into the 
 last pitch of frenzy. But even so the approach of Jake 
 was not without its effect. His very presence was full 
 of threat to the weaker man. Archie was no physical 
 coward, but, in that first moment of meeting, he felt as
 
 106 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 if he had been suddenly taken by the collar, lifted up 
 and shaken, and forcibly set down on his feet again. 
 And his reply came in a tone that voiced the mental 
 process he had passed through. 
 
 "I've come for help. I was in Forks last night, and 
 only got home this afternoon," he answered, with un- 
 natural calmness. Then the check gave way before his 
 hysterical condition, and Jake's momentary influence 
 was lost upon him. " I tell you it's Red Mask ! It's 
 him and his gang 1 They've shot my father down ; 
 they've burned us out, and driven off our stock ! God's 
 curse on the man ! But I'll have him. I'll hunt him 
 down. Ha 1 ha ! " The young man's blue eyes flashed 
 and his face worked as his hysteria rose and threatened 
 to overwhelm him. "You hear?" he shouted on 
 " what does it say ? Blood for blood. I'll have it ! 
 Give me some help. Give me horses, and I'll have it 1 
 I'll " His voice had risen to a shriek. 
 
 " You'll shut off that damned noise, or " Jake's 
 ferocious face was thrust forward, and his fierce eyes 
 glared furiously into the other's " or git." 
 
 Archie shrank back silenced at once. The effect 
 suited the foreman, and he went on with a sardonic 
 leer 
 
 " An' you'll have ' blood for blood ' o' Red Mask ? 
 You ? You who was away boozin' in Forks when you'd 
 a right to ha' been around lookin' to see that old skin- 
 flint of a father o' yours didn't git no hurt. You're 
 goin' to round up Red Mask ; you who ain't got guts 
 enough but to crawl round here fer help to do it. 
 Youl"
 
 THE KILLING OF HANSON ORR 107 
 
 A hot reply sprang to the youngster's lips in spite oi 
 his fear of this man, but it died suddenly as a voice from 
 within the doorway broke in upon them. 
 
 " And a right purpose too, Archie." 
 
 Diane stepped out on to the verandah and ranged 
 herself at his side, while her scornful brown eyes sought 
 the foreman's face. There was a moment's pause, then 
 she looked up into the boy's troubled face. 
 
 " You want to see my father ? " 
 
 Archie was only eighteen, and though well grown 
 and muscular, he was still only a boy. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Diane ; I do want to see him. I want to 
 borrow a couple of horses from him, and to ask his ad- 
 vice." 
 
 Archie's recent heat and hysteria had soothed under 
 the influence of the girl's presence. He now stood 
 bowed and dejected ; he appeared to have suddenly 
 grown old. Jake watched the scene with a sneer on 
 his brutal face, but remained silent now that Diane was 
 present. 
 
 " I will rouse him myself," she said quietly, moving 
 toward the door. " Yes, you shall see him, Archie. I 
 heard what you said just now, and I'll tell him. 
 
 But " She broke off, hesitating. Then she came 
 
 back to him. " Is is your father dead, or only 
 wounded ? " 
 
 The boy's head dropped forward, and two great tears 
 rolled slowly down his cheeks. Diane turned away, 
 and a far-off look came into her steady brown eyes. 
 There was a silence for a moment, then a deep, heart- 
 broken sob came from the lad at her side. She flashed
 
 io8 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 one hard glance in Jake's direction and turned to her 
 companion, gently gripping his arm in a manner that 
 expressed a world of womanly sympathy. Her touch, 
 her quiet, strong helpfulness, did more for him than any 
 formal words of condolence could have done. He 
 lifted his head and dashed the tears from his face ; and 
 the girl smiled encouragement upon him. 
 
 " Wait here," she said ; " I will go and fetch father." 
 
 She slipped away, leaving the two men alone. And 
 when she had gone, the foreman's raucous voice sounded 
 harshly on the still air. 
 
 " Say, you ain't smart, neither. We got one of your 
 kidney around here now. Kind o' reckons to fix the 
 old man through the girl. Most weak-kneed fellers 
 gamble a pile on petticoats. Wai, I guess you're right 
 out. Marbolt ain't easy that way. You'll be sorry you 
 fetched him from his bed, or I don't know him." 
 
 Archie made no reply. Nor was any more talk pos- 
 sible, for at that moment there came the steady tap, 
 tap, of the blind man's stick down the passage, and the 
 two men faced the door expectantly. The rancher 
 shuffled out on to the verandah. Diane was at his side, 
 and led him straight over to young Orr. The old 
 man's head was poised alertly for a second ; then he 
 turned swiftly in the foreman's direction. 
 
 " Hah 1 that you, Jake ? " He nodded as he spoke, 
 and then turned back to the other. The blind man's 
 instinct seemed something more than human. 
 
 " Eh ? Your father murdered, boy ? " Marbolt ques- 
 tioned, without the least softening of tone. " Mur- 
 dered ? "
 
 THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR 109 
 
 Archie gulped down his rising emotion. But there 
 was no life in his answer his words came in a tone of 
 utter hopelessness. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; shot down, I gather, in defense of our 
 homestead." 
 
 The steady stare of the rancher's red eyes was hard 
 to support. Archie felt himself weaken before the per- 
 sonality of this man he had come to see. 
 
 " Gather ? " 
 
 The hardness of his greeting had now changed to the 
 gentleness of tone in which the blind man usually spoke. 
 But the boy drew no confidence from it while confronted 
 by those unseeing eyes. It was Diane who understood 
 and replied for him. 
 
 " Yes ; Archie was in Forks last night, on business, 
 father. He only learned what had happened on re- 
 turning home this afternoon. He he wants some 
 help." 
 
 "Yes, sir," Archie went on quickly ;" only a little 
 help. I came home to find our homestead burned clean 
 out. Not a roof left to shelter my mother and sister, 
 and not one living beast left upon the place, except 
 the dogs. Oh, my God, it is awful ! Mother and Alice 
 were sitting beside the corral gate weeping fit to break 
 their hearts over the dead body of father when I found 
 them. And the story, as I learned it, sir, was simple 
 horribly, terribly simple. They were roused at about 
 two in the morning by the dogs barking. Father, 
 thinking timber wolves were around, went out with a 
 gun. He saw nothing till he got to the corrals. Then 
 mother, watching from her window, saw the flash of
 
 1 10 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 several guns, and heard the rattle of their reports. 
 Father dropped. Then the gang of murderers roused 
 out the stock, and some drove it off, while others 
 wantonly fired the buildings. It was Red Mask, sir, for 
 he came up to the house and ordered mother out be- 
 fore the place was fired. She is sure it was him be- 
 cause of his mask. She begged him not to burn her 
 home, but the devil had no remorse ; he vouchsafed 
 only one reply. Maybe she forced him to an answer 
 with her appeal ; maybe he only spoke to intimidate 
 others who might hear of his words from her. Any- 
 way, he said, ' Your man and you open your mouths 
 too wide around this place. Manson Orr wrote in to 
 the police, and asked for protection. You won't need 
 it now, neither will he.' " He paused, while the horror 
 of his story sank deeply into the heart of at least one 
 of his hearers. Then he went on with that eager, 
 nervous fire he had at first displayed : " Mr. Marbolt, 
 I look to you to help me. I've got nothing to keep me 
 now from following this devil of a man. I want to 
 borrow horses, and I'll hunt him down. I'll hunt him 
 down while I've a breath left in my body, sir," he went 
 on, with rising passion. " I'll pay him if it takes me 
 my lifetime ! Only lend me the horses, sir. It is as 
 much to your interest as mine, for he has robbed you 
 before now ; your property is no more safe than any 
 other man's. Let us combine to fight him, to bring 
 him down, to measure him his full measure, to send 
 
 him to hell, where he belongs. I'll do this " 
 
 " Yes, while your mother and sister starve," put in 
 the blind man, drily. Then, as the fire of Archie's pas-
 
 THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR in 
 
 sion suddenly sank at the cold, incisive words, and he 
 remained silent and abashed, he went on, in quiet, even 
 tones, while his red eyes were focussed upon his vis- 
 itor's face with disconcerting directness, " No, no ; go 
 you I won't say ' home,' but go you to your mother 
 and sister : look after them, care for them, work for 
 them. You owe that to them before any act of venge- 
 ance be made. When you have achieved their com- 
 fort, you are at liberty to plunge into any rashness you 
 choose. I am no youngster, Archie Orr, I am a man 
 of years, who has seen, all my life, only through a brain 
 rendered doubly acute by lack of sight, and my advice is 
 worthy of your consideration. You have nothing more 
 to fear from Red Mask at present, but if you continue 
 your headlong course you will have ; and, as far as I 
 can make out, his hand is heavy and swift in falling. 
 Go back to your women-folk, I say. You can get no 
 horses from me for such a foolhardy purpose as you 
 meditate." 
 
 Diane had watched her father closely, and as he fin- 
 ished speaking, she moved toward the bereaved man 
 and laid a hand upon his arm in gentle appeal. 
 
 " Father is right, Archie. Go back to them, those 
 two lonely, broken-hearted women. You can do all 
 for them if you will. They need all that your kind, 
 honest heart can bestow. It is now that you must show 
 the stuff you are made of." 
 
 Archie had turned away ; but he looked round and 
 mechanically glanced down at the brown hand still 
 resting upon his arm. The sight of it held him for 
 some moments, and when he raised his head a new
 
 112 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 look was in his eyes. The sympathy in her tones, the 
 gentle encouragement of the few words she had spoken, 
 had completed that which the sound but unsympathetic 
 advice of her father had begun. 
 
 His purpose had been the wild impulse of unstable 
 youth ; there was no strength to it, no real resolution. 
 Besides, he was a gentle-hearted lad, to whom Diane's 
 appeal for his mother and sister was irresistible. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Diane," he said, with a profound 
 sigh. "Your kind heart has seen where my anger has 
 been blind. Yes, I will return and help my mother- 
 And I thank you, sir," he went on, turning reluctantly 
 to face the stare of the rancher's eyes again. " You, 
 too, have plainly shown me my duty, and I shall follow 
 it, but if ever " 
 
 " And you'll do well," broke in Jake, with a rough 
 laugh that jarred terribly. "Your father's paid his 
 pound. If his son's wise, he'll hunt his hole." 
 
 Archie's eyes flashed ominously. Diane saw the 
 look, and, in an instant, drew his attention to his horse, 
 which was moving off toward the barn. 
 
 " See, Archie," she said, with a gentle smile, " your 
 horse is weary, and is looking for rest." 
 
 The boy read her meaning. He held out his hand 
 impulsively, and the girl placed hers into it. In a mo- 
 ment his other had closed over it, and he shook it ten- 
 derly. Then, without a word, he made off after his 
 horse. 
 
 The blind man's face was turned in his direction as 
 he went, and when the sound of his footsteps had died 
 away, he turned abruptly and tapped his way back to
 
 THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR 113 
 
 the door. At the threshold he turned upon the fore- 
 man. 
 
 " Two days in succession I have been disturbed," he 
 gritted out. " You are getting past your work, Jake 
 Harnach." 
 
 "Father " Diane started forward in alarm, but 
 
 he cut her short. 
 
 " And as for you, miss, remember your place in my 
 house. Go, look to your duties. Sweep, wash, cook, 
 sew. Those are the things your sex is made for. 
 What interest have you, dare you have, in that brain- 
 less boy? Let him fight his own battles. It may 
 make a man of him ; though I doubt it. He is nothing 
 to you." 
 
 Diane shrank before the scathing blast of that sight- 
 less fury. But she rallied to protest. 
 
 " It is the women-folk, father." 
 
 " Women-folk ? Bah ! " 
 
 He threw up his hands in ineffable scorn, and shuffled 
 away into the house. 
 
 Jake, still smarting under the attack, stood leaning 
 against the verandah post. He was looking away 
 down at the bunkhouse, where a group of the men were 
 gathered about Archie Orr, who, seated on his horse, 
 was evidently telling his tale afresh. 
 
 Diane approached him. He did not even turn to 
 meet her. 
 
 " Jake, I want Bess at once. Hitch her to the buck- 
 board, and have her sent round to the kitchen door." 
 
 "What are you goin' to do, my girl?" he asked, 
 without shifting his gaze.
 
 ii 4 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Maybe I shall drive over to see those poor women." 
 
 "Maybe?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You can't have her." 
 
 Jake turned, and looked down at her from his great 
 height. Archie Orr had just ridden off. 
 
 Diane returned his look fearlessly, and there was 
 something in the directness of her gaze that made the 
 giant look away. 
 
 " I think I can," she said quietly. " Go and see to 
 it now." 
 
 The man started. It seemed as if he were about to 
 bluster. His bold, black eyes flashed ominously, and 
 it was plain from his attitude that a flat and harsh re- 
 fusal was on his lips. But somehow he didn't say it. 
 The brutality of his expression slowly changed as he 
 looked at her. A gentle light stole slowly, and it 
 seemed with difficulty, into his eyes, where it looked as 
 out of place as the love-light in the eyes of a tiger. 
 But there was no mistaking it. However incongruous 
 it was there, and the lips that had been framing a cruel 
 retort merely gave utterance to a quiet acquiescence. 
 
 " All right. I'll send her round in five minutes." 
 
 And Diane went into the house at once. 
 
 Meanwhile, a great discussion of young Orr's affairs 
 was going on at the bunkhouse. Arizona had vacated 
 his favorite seat, and was now holding the floor. His 
 pale face was flushed with a hectic glow of excitement. 
 He was taxing his little stock of strength to the utter- 
 most, and, at least, some of those looking on listening 
 to him knew it.
 
 THE KILLING OF HANSON ORR 115 
 
 " I tell you ther' ain't nothin' fer it but to roll up to 
 old blind hulks an' ast him to send us out. Ef this 
 dog-gone skunk's let be, ther' ain't no stock safe. 
 Guess I've had my med'cine from 'em, and I'm jest 
 crazy fer more. I've had to do wi' fellers o' their kid- 
 ney 'fore, I guess. We strung six of 'em up in a day 
 on the same tree down Arizona way, as that gray- 
 headed possum, Joe Nelson, well remembers. Say, we 
 jest cleaned our part o' that country right quick. 
 Guess ther' wa'n't a ' bad man ' wuth two plugs o' 
 nickel chewin' around when we'd finished gettin' 'em. 
 Say, this feller's played it long enough, an' I'm goin' 
 right now to see the boss. He's around. Who's 
 comin' ? " 
 
 "Yes, an' Archie Orr's a pore sort o' crittur to git 
 left wi' two women-folk," said Raw Harris, rising from 
 his upturned bucket and putting forth his argument, 
 regardless of its irrelevance. " Not a stick to shelter 
 him which I mean ' them.' An' not a dog-gone cent 
 among 'em. By G , Arizona's right." 
 
 " That's it," put in Joe Nelson ; " you've hit it. Not 
 a dog-gone cent among 'em, an', what's more, owin' 
 blind hulks a whole heap o' bills on mortgage. Say, 
 that was mostly a weak move him askin' the boss fer 
 help. Why, I guess old Marbolt hates hisself on'y one 
 shade wuss'n he hated Manson Orr. Say, boys, ef 
 we're askin' to lynch Red Mask, we ain't askin' in any 
 fancy name like ' Orr.' Savee ? " 
 
 There was silence for a moment while they digested 
 the wisdom of the suggestion. Then Jacob Smith 
 nodded, and Lew Cawley murmured
 
 n6 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Dead gut every time, is Joe." 
 
 This loosened their tongues again until Tresler spoke. 
 
 " See here, boys, you're talking of lynching, and 
 haven't a notion of how you're going to get your man. 
 Don't even know where to lay hands on him. Do you 
 think Marbolt's going to turn us all loose on the war- 
 path ? Not he. And how are two or three of us go- 
 ing to get a gang of ten or twelve ? Besides, I believe 
 it'll be easier to get him without a lynching party. Re- 
 member he's no ordinary cattle-rustler. I say lie low, 
 he'll come our way, and then " 
 
 "That's it, lie low," broke in Joe Nelson, shaking 
 his gray head over a pannikin of tea, and softly blow- 
 ing a clearing among the dead flies floating on its sur- 
 face. " Maybe y' ain't heard as the sheriff's come 
 around Forks. Guess he's fixed a station therV 
 
 " He's already done so ? " asked Tresler. 
 
 "Yup." 
 
 " By Jove ! The very thing, boys. Don't roll up. 
 Don't do any lynching. The sheriff's the boy for Red 
 Mask." 
 
 But Arizona, backed by Raw Harris, would have 
 none of it. They were of the old-time stock who un- 
 derstood only old-time methods, and cordially resented 
 any peaceful solution to the difficulty. They wanted a 
 lynching, and no argument would dissuade them. And 
 after much discussion it was Arizona's final word that 
 carried the day 
 
 " Now, you see, Tresler," he said huskily, for his 
 voice was tired with sustained effort. " You're the re- 
 markablest smart ' tenderfoot ' that ever I see. Say,
 
 THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR 117 
 
 you're a right smart daddy an' I ain't given to lath- 
 erin' soap-suds neither. But ther's suthin's I calc'late 
 that no ' tenderfoot,' smart as he may be, is goin' to 
 locate right. Hoss thieves is hoss thieves, an' needs 
 stringin'. Ther' ain't nuthin' for it but a rawhide rope 
 fer them fellers. Guess I've seen more'n you've heerd 
 tell of. Say, boys, who's goin' to see the boss ? Guess 
 he's right ther' on the verandah." 
 
 Though there was no verbal reply as the wild Ameri- 
 can turned to move off, there was a general movement 
 to follow him. Raw Harris started it. Pannikins were 
 set down upon the ground, and, to a man, the rest fol- 
 lowed in their leader's wake. Tresler went too, but he 
 went only because he knew it would be useless even 
 dangerous to hold back. The general inclination was 
 to follow the lead of this volcanic man. Besides, he had 
 only voiced that which appealed to them all. The 
 gospel of restraint was not in their natures. Only Joe 
 Nelson really endorsed Tresler's opinion. But then 
 Joe was a man who had lived his youth out, and had 
 acquired that level-headedness from experience which 
 Tresler possessed instinctively. Besides, he was in 
 touch with Diane. He had lived more than ten years 
 on that ranch, during which time he had stood by 
 watching with keenly observant eyes the doings of the 
 cattle world about him. But he, too, in spite of his own 
 good reason, moved on to the verandah with the rest. 
 
 And Jake saw the movement and understood, and he 
 reached the verandah first and warned the blind man 
 of their coming. 
 
 And Tresler's prophecy was more than fulfilled. As
 
 u8 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 they came they saw the rancher rise from his seat. He 
 faced them, a tall, awesome figure in his long, full 
 dressing-gown. His large, clean-cut head, his gray, 
 clipped beard, the long aquiline nose, and, overshadow- 
 ing all, his staring, red eyes ; even on Arizona he had 
 a damping effect. 
 
 " Well ? " he questioned, as the men halted before 
 him. Then, as no answer was forthcoming, he repeated 
 his inquiry. " Well ? " 
 
 And Arizona stepped to the front. " Wai, boss, it's 
 this a-ways," he began. " These rustlers, I guess " 
 
 But the blind man cut him short. The frowning 
 brows drew closer over the sightless eyes, which were 
 focussed upon the cowpuncher with a concentration 
 more overpowering than if their vision had been unim- 
 paired. 
 
 "Eh? So you've been listening to young Orr," he 
 said, with a quietness in marked contrast to the expres- 
 sion of his face. " And you want to get after them? " 
 Then he shook his head, and the curious depression of 
 his brows relaxed, and a smile hovered round his 
 mouth. " No, no, boys ; it's useless coming to me. 
 Worse than useless. You, Arizona, should know better. 
 There are not enough ranches round here to form a 
 lynching party, if one were advisable. And I can't 
 spare men from, here. Why, to send enough men from 
 here to deal with this gang would leave my place at 
 their mercy. Tut, tut, it is impossible. You must see 
 it yourselves." 
 
 " But you've been robbed before, sir," Arizona broke 
 out in protest.
 
 THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR 119 
 
 "Yes, yes." There was a grating of impatience in 
 the blind man's voice, and the smile had vanished. 
 41 And I prefer to be robbed of a few beeves again rather 
 than run the chance of being burned out by those 
 scoundrels. I'll have no argument about the matter. 
 I can spare no hand among you. I'll not police this 
 district for anybody. You understand for anybody. 
 I will not stop you any of you " his words came 
 with a subtle fierceness now, and were directed at 
 Arizona " but of this I assure you, any man who leaves 
 this ranch to set out on any wild-goose chase after 
 these rustlers leaves it for good. That's all I have to 
 say." 
 
 Arizona was about to retort hotly, but Tresler, who 
 was standing close up to him, plucked at his shirt-sleeve, 
 and, strangely enough, his interference had its effect. 
 The man glared round, but when he saw who it was 
 that had interrupted him, he made no further effort to 
 speak. The wild man of the prairie was feeling the 
 influence of a stronger, or, at least, a steadier nature 
 than his own. And Jake's lynx eyes watching saw the 
 movement, and he understood. 
 
 The men moved reluctantly away. Their moody 
 looks and slouching gait loudly voiced their feelings. 
 No words passed between them until they were well 
 out of ear-shot. And Tresler realized now the wonder- 
 ful power of brain behind the sightless eyes of the 
 rancher. Now, he understood something of the strength 
 which had fought the battle, sightless though he was, 
 of those early days ; now he comprehended the man 
 who could employ a man of Jake's character, and have
 
 120 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 strength enough to control him. That afternoon's ex- 
 hibition made a profound impression on him. 
 
 Their supper was finished before they set out for the 
 house, and now the men, murmuring, discontented, 
 and filled with resentment against the rancher, loafed 
 idly around the bunkhouse. They smoked and chewed 
 and discussed the matter as angry men who are 
 thwarted in their plans will ever do. Tresler and Joe 
 alone remained quiet Tresler, for the reason that a 
 definite plan was gradually forming in his brain out of 
 the chaos of events, and Joe because he was watching 
 the other for his own obscure reasons. 
 
 The sun had set when Tresler separated himself from 
 his companions. Making his way down past the lower 
 corrals he took himself to the ford. Joe thoughtfully 
 watched him go. 
 
 Seated on a fallen tree-trunk Tresler pondered long 
 and deeply. He was thinking of Joe's information that 
 the sheriff had at last set up a station at Forks. Why 
 should he not carry his story to him ? Why should he 
 not take this man into his confidence, and so work out 
 the trapping of the gang? And, if Jake were 
 
 He had no time to proceed further. His thoughts 
 were interrupted by the sound of wheels, followed, a 
 moment later, by the splash of a horse crossing the 
 ford. He turned in the direction whence the sound 
 came, and beheld Bessie hauling a buckboard up the 
 bank of the river ; at the same instant he recognized the 
 only occupant of the vehicle. It was Diane returning 
 from her errand of mercy. 
 
 Tresler sprang to his feet. He doffed his prairie hat
 
 THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR 121 
 
 as the buckboard drew abreast of him. Nor was he 
 unmindful of the sudden flush that surged to the girl's 
 cheeks as she recognized him. Without any intention 
 Diane checked the mare, and, a moment later, realizing 
 what she had done, she urged her on with unnecessary 
 energy. But Tresler had no desire that she should 
 pass him in that casual fashion, and, with a disarming 
 smile, hailed her. 
 
 " Don't change a good mind, Miss Marbolt," he cried. 
 
 Whereat the blush returned to the girl's cheek in- 
 tensified, for she knew that he had seen her intention. 
 This time, however, she pulled up decidedly, and turned 
 a smiling face to him. 
 
 " This is better than I bargained for," he went on. 
 " I came here to think the afternoon's events out, and 
 I meet you. I had no idea you were out." 
 
 " I felt that Bess wanted exercise," the girl answered 
 evasively. 
 
 Without asking herself why, Diane felt pleased at 
 meeting this man. Their first encounter had been no 
 ordinary one. From the beginning he seemed to link 
 himself with her life. For her their hours of acquaint- 
 ance might have been years ; years of mutual help and 
 confidence. However, she gathered her reins up as 
 though to drive on. Tresler promptly stayed her. 
 
 " No, don't go yet, Miss Marbolt, please. Pleasures 
 that come unexpectedly are pleasures indeed. I feel 
 sure you will not cast me back upon my gloomy 
 thoughts." 
 
 Diane let the reins fall into her lap. 
 
 " So your thoughts were gloomy ; well, I don't
 
 122 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 wonder at it. There are gloomy things happening. I 
 was out driving, and thought I would look in at Mos- 
 quito Reach. It has been razed to the ground." 
 
 "You have been to see and help young Orr's 
 mother and sister? I know it. It was like you, Miss 
 Marbolt," Tresler said, with a genuine look of admira- 
 tion at the dark little face so overshadowed by the sun- 
 hat. 
 
 " Don't be so ready to credit me with virtues I do not 
 possess. We women are curious. Curiosity is one of 
 our most pronounced features. Poor souls their home 
 is gone. Utterly utterly gone. Oh, Mr. Tresler, 
 what are we to do ? We cannot remain silent, and yet 
 we don't know. We can prove nothing." 
 
 " And what has become of them I mean Mrs. Orr 
 and her daughter?" Tresler asked, for the moment 
 ignoring the girl's question. 
 
 " They have gone into Forks." 
 
 " And food and money ? " 
 
 " I have seen to that." Diane shrugged her shoulders 
 to make light of what she had done, but Tresler would 
 not be put off. 
 
 " Bless you for that," he said, with simple earnest- 
 ness. " I knew I was right." Then he reverted 
 abruptly to her question. " But we can do something ; 
 the sheriff has come to Forks." 
 
 "Yes, I know." Diane's tone suddenly became 
 eager, almost hopeful. " And father knows, and he is 
 going to send in a letter to Fyles Sheriff Fyles is the 
 great prairie detective, and is in charge of Forks 
 welcoming him, and inviting him out here. He is
 
 THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR 123 
 
 going to tell him all he knows of these rustlers, and so 
 endeavor to set him on their track. Father laughs at 
 the idea of the sheriff catching these men. He says 
 that they the rustlers are no ordinary gang, but 
 clever men, and well organized. But he thinks that if 
 he gets Fyles around it will save his property." 
 
 " And your father is wise. Yes, it will certainly have 
 that effect ; but I, too, have a little idea that I have been 
 working at, and Miss Marbolt, forgive the seeming 
 impertinence, but I want to discuss Jake again ; this 
 time from a personal point of viqw, You dislike Jake ; 
 more, you have shown me that you fear him." 
 
 The girl hesitated before replying. This man's 
 almost brusque manner of driving straight to his point 
 was somewhat alarming. He gave her no loophole. 
 If she discussed the matter witrj him at all it must be 
 fully, or she must refuse to answej him. 
 
 "I suppose I do fear him," srje said at last with a 
 sigh. Then her face suddenly lit up with an angry 
 glow. " I fear him as any girl woqld fear the man who, 
 in defiance of her expressed hatred, thrusts his atten- 
 tions upon her. I fear him because <?f father's blindness. 
 I fear him because he hopes in his secret heart some 
 day to own this ranch, these lands, all these splendid 
 cattle, our fortune. Father will be jjone then. How ? 
 I don't know. And I I shall be Jake's slave. These 
 are the reasons why I fear Jake, Mr.'T r esler, since you 
 insist on knowing." 
 
 " I thank you, Miss Marbolt." The gentle tone at 
 once dispelled the girl's resentment " You have 
 suspicions which may prove to be right. It was for
 
 124 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 this reason I asked you to discuss Jake. One thing 
 more and I'll have done. This Joe Nelson, he is very 
 shrewd, he is in close contact with you. How far is he 
 to be trusted ? " 
 
 " To any length ; with your life, Mr. Tresler," the 
 girl said with enthusiasm. "Joe is nobody's enemy 
 but his own, poor fellow. I am ashamed to admit it, 
 but I have long since realized that when things bother 
 me so that I cannot bear them all alone, it is Joe that 
 I look to for help. He is so kind. Oh, Mr. Tresler, 
 you cannot understand the gentleness, the sympathy 
 of his honest old heart. I am very, very fond of Joe." 
 
 The man abruptly moved from his stand at the side of 
 the buckboard, and looked along the trail in the direc- 
 tion of the ranch. His action was partly to check an 
 impulse which the girl's manner had roused in him, and 
 partly because his quick ears had caught the sound of 
 some one approaching. He was master of himself in 
 a moment, however, and, returning, smiled up into the 
 serious eyes before him. 
 
 "Well, Joe shall help me," he said. " He shall help 
 me as he has helped you. If " he broke off, listen- 
 ing. Then with great deliberation he came close up 
 to the buckboard. " Miss Diane," he said, and the 
 girl's lids lowered before the earnestness of his gaze, 
 " you shall never while I live be the slave of Jake 
 Harnach." 
 
 Nor had Tresler time to move away before a tall 
 figure rounded the bend of the trail. In the dusk he 
 mistook the newcomer for Jake, then, as he saw how 
 slim he was, he realized his mistake.
 
 THE KILLING OF MANSON ORR 125 
 
 The man came right up to the buckboard with swift, 
 almost stealthy strides. The dark olive of his com- 
 plexion, the high cheek-bones, the delicately chiseled, 
 aquiline nose, the perfectly penciled eyebrows sur- 
 mounting the quick, keen, handsome black eyes ; these 
 things combined with the lithe, sinuous grace of an 
 admirably poised body made him a figure of much at- 
 traction. 
 
 The man ignored Tresler, and addressed the girl in 
 the buckboard in a tone that made the former's blood 
 boil. 
 
 "The boss, him raise hell. Him say, 'I mak' her 
 wish she not been born any more.' Him say, ' Go you, 
 Anton, an' find her, an' you not leave her but bring her 
 back.' Ho, the boss, your father, he mad. Hah?" 
 The half-breed grinned, and displayed a flashing set of 
 teeth. " So I go," he went on, still smiling in his 
 impudent manner. " I look out. I see the buckboard 
 come down to the river. I know you come. I see 
 from there back " he pointed away to the bush " you 
 talk with this man, an' I wait. So ! " 
 
 Diane was furious. Her gentle brown eyes flashed, 
 and two bright patches of color burned on her cheeks. 
 The half-breed watched her carelessly. Turning to 
 Tresler she held out her hand abruptly. 
 
 " Good-night, Mr. Tresler," she said quietly. Then 
 she chirruped to her light-hearted mare and drove off. 
 
 Anton looked after her. " Sacre ! " he cried, with a 
 light shrug. "She is so mad so mad. Voila ! " and 
 he leisurely followed in the wake of the buckboard. 
 
 And Tresler looked after him. Then it was that his
 
 126 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 thoughts reverted to the scene in the saloon at Forks. 
 So this was Anton " Black " Anton the man who 
 had slid into the country without any one knowing it. 
 He remembered Slum Ranks's words and description. 
 This was the man who had the great Jake's measure.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 WHICH DEALS WITH THE MATTER OF DRINK 
 
 ALTHOUGH the murder of Manson Orr caused a 
 wide-spread outcry, it ended at that in so far as the in- 
 habitants of the district were concerned. There were 
 one or two individuals who pondered deeply on the 
 matter, and went quietly about a careful investigation, 
 and of these Tresler was the most prominent. He 
 found excuse to visit the scene of the outrage ; he took 
 interest in the half-breed settlement six miles out from 
 Mosquito Bend. He hunted among the foot-hills, even 
 into the obscurer confines of the mountains ; and these 
 doings of his were the result of much thought, and the 
 work of much time and ingenuity ; for everything had 
 to be done without raising the suspicion of anybody on 
 the ranch, or for that matter, of! it. Being a " green " 
 hand helped him. It was really astonishing how 
 easily an intelligent man like Tresler could get lost ; 
 and yet such was the deplorable fact. Even Arizona's 
 opinion of him sank to zero, while Jake found a wide 
 scope for his sneering brutality. 
 
 As the days lengthened out into a week, and then a 
 fortnight passed and nothing more was heard of Red 
 Mask, the whole matter began to pass out of mind, and 
 gradually became relegated to the lore of the country. 
 It was added to the already long list of barroom
 
 128 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 stories, to be narrated, with embellishments, by such 
 men as Slum or the worthy Forks carpenter. 
 
 The only thing that stuck in people's minds, and that 
 only because it added fuel to an already deep, abiding, 
 personal hatred, was the story of Julian Marbolt's treat- 
 ment of young Archie Orr, and his refusal to inaugurate 
 a vigilance party. The blind man's name, always one 
 to rouse the roughest side of men's tongues, was now 
 cursed more bitterly than ever. 
 
 And during these days the bunkhouse at Mosquito 
 Bend seethed with revolt. But though this was so, un- 
 derneath all their most bitter reflections the men were 
 not without a faint hope of seeing the career of these 
 desperadoes cut short ; and this hope sprang from the 
 knowledge of the coming of the sheriff to Forks. The 
 faith of Arizona and the older hands in the official 
 capacity for dealing with these people was a frail thing, 
 but the younger set were less sceptical. 
 
 And at last Julian Marbolt's tardy invitation to 
 Fyles was despatched. Tresler had watched and 
 waited for the sending of that letter ; he had hoped to 
 be the bearer of it himself. It would have given him 
 the opportunity of making this Fyles's acquaintance, 
 which was a matter he desired to accomplish as soon as 
 possible, without drawing public attention to the fact. 
 But in this he was disappointed, for Jake sent Nelson. 
 Nor did he know of the little man's going until he saw 
 him astride of his buckskin " shag-an-appy," with the 
 letter safely bestowed in his wallet. 
 
 This was not the only disappointment he experienced 
 during that fortnight. He saw little or nothing of
 
 THE MATTER OF DRINK 129 
 
 Diane. To Tresler, at least, their meeting at the ford 
 was something more than a recollection. Every tone 
 of the girl's voice, every look, every word she had 
 spoken remained with him, as these things will at the 
 dawn of love. Many times he tried to see her, but 
 failed. Then he learned the meaning of their separa- 
 tion. One day Joe brought him a note from Diane, in 
 which she told him how Black Anton had returned to 
 her father and poured into his only too willing ears a 
 wilfully garbled story of their meeting at the ford. 
 She told him of her father's anger, and how he had for- 
 bidden her to leave the house unattended by at least 
 one of his two police Anton and Jake. This letter 
 made its recipient furious, but it also started a secret 
 correspondence between them, Joe Nelson proving him- 
 self perfectly willing to act as go-between. And this 
 correspondence was infinitely pleasant to Tresler. He 
 treasured Diane's letters with a jealous care, making 
 no attempt to disguise the truth from himself. He 
 knew that he was falling hopelessly in love had fallen 
 hopelessly in love. 
 
 This was the position when the evening of the day 
 came on which the rancher's invitation to Fyles had 
 been despatched. The supper hash had been devoured 
 by healthy men with healthy appetites. Work was 
 practically over, there was nothing more to be done but 
 feed, water, and bed down the horses. And Joe Nel- 
 son had not yet returned from Forks ; he was at least 
 five hours overdue. 
 
 Arizona, practically recovered from his wound, was 
 carefully soaping his saddle, and generally preparing
 
 130 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 his accoutrements for return to full work on the mor- 
 row. He had grown particularly sour and irritable 
 with being kept so long out of the saddle. His 
 volcanic temper had become even more than usually 
 uncertain. 
 
 His convalescence threw him a good deal into 
 Tresler's company, and a sort of uncertain friendship 
 had sprung up between them. Arizona at first tolerated 
 him, protested scathingly at his failures in the craft, 
 and ended by liking him ; while the other cordially ap- 
 preciated the open, boisterous honesty of the cow- 
 puncher. He was equally ready to do a kindly action, 
 or smite the man hip and thigh who chanced to run 
 foul of him. Tresler often told him that his nationality 
 was a mistake, that instead of being an American he 
 should have been born in Ireland. 
 
 Just now the prospect of once more getting to work 
 had put Arizona in high good temper, and he took his 
 comrades' rough chaff good-naturedly, giving as good 
 as he got, and often a little better. 
 
 Jacob Smith had been watching him for some time, 
 and a thoughtful grin had quietly taken possession of 
 his features. 
 
 " Soapin' yer saddle/' he observed at last, as the lean 
 man happened to look up and see the grinning face in 
 the doorway of the bunkhouse. " Guess saddles do 
 git kind o' slippery when you ain't slung a leg over 
 one fer a whiles. Say, best soap the knees o' yer pants 
 too, Arizona. Mebbe y'll sit tighter." 
 
 " Wai," retorted Arizona, bending to his work again, 
 " I do allow ther's more savee in that tip than most
 
 THE MATTER OF DRINK 131 
 
 gener'ly slobbers off'n your tongue. I'll kind o' turn it 
 over some." 
 
 Jacob's grin broadened. "Guess I should. Your 
 plug ain't been saddled sence you wus sent sick. Soft 
 soap ain't gener'ly in your line ; makes me laff to see 
 you handlin' it." 
 
 " That's so," observed the other, imperturbably. " I 
 'lows it has its uses. 'Tain't bad fer washin'. Guess 
 you ain't tried it any ? " 
 
 At that moment Raw Harris came across from the 
 barn. He lounged over to an upturned box and sat 
 down. 
 
 " Any o' you fellers seen Joe Nelson along yet ? " he 
 asked as he leisurely filled his pipe. 
 
 " Five hours overdue," said Tresler, who was clean- 
 ing out the chambers of his revolver. 
 
 " Joe ain't likely to git back this night," observed 
 Arizona. " He's a terror when he gits alongside a 
 saloon. Guess he's drank out one ranch of his own 
 down Texas way. He's the all-firedest bag o' tricks 
 I've ever see. Soft as a babby is Joe. Honest ? Wai, 
 I'd smile. Joe's that honest he'd give up his socks ef 
 the old sheep came along an' claimed the wool. Him 
 an' me's worked together 'fore. He's gittin' kind o' 
 old, an' ain't as handy as he used to be. Say, he never 
 told you 'bout that temperator feller, Tresler, did he?" 
 
 Tresler shook his head, and paused in his work to 
 relight his pipe. 
 
 " It kind o' minds me to tell you sence we're talkin' 
 o' Joe. It likely shows my meanin* when I sez he's 
 that soft an' honest, an' yet crazy fer drink. You see,
 
 132 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 it wus this a-ways. I wus kind o' foreman o' the ' U 
 bar U's ' in Canada, an' Joe wus punchin' cows then. 
 The boys wus sheer grit ; good hands, mind you, but 
 sudden -like." 
 
 Arizona ceased plastering the soap on his saddle and 
 stood erect. His gaunt figure looked leaner than ever, 
 but his face was alight with interest in the story he was 
 about to narrate, and his great wild eyes were shining 
 with a look that suggested a sort of fierce amusement. 
 Teddy Jinks lounged into view and stood propped 
 against an angle of the building. 
 
 " Git on," said Lew, between the puffs at his pipe. 
 
 Arizona shot a quick, disdainful glance at the power- 
 ful figure of the parson's progeny, and went on in his 
 own peculiar fashion 
 
 " Wai, it so happened that the records o' the ' U bar 
 U's' kind o' got noised abroad some, as they say in 
 the gospel. Them coyotes as reckoned they wus smart 
 'lowed as even the cattle found a shortage o' liquid by 
 reason of an onnatural thirst on that ranch. Howsum, 
 mebbe ther' wus reason. Old Joe, he wus the daddy o' 
 the lot. Jim Marlin used to say as Joe most gener'ly 
 used a black lead when he writ his letters ; didn't fancy 
 wastin' ink. Mebbe that's kind o' zaggerated, but I 
 guess he wus the next thing to a fact'ry o' blottin' paper, 
 sure. 
 
 " Wai, I reckon some bald-faced galoot got yappin', 
 leastways there wus a temperance outfit come right 
 along an' lay hold o' the boss. Say, flannel-mouthed 
 orators ! I guess that feller could roll out more juicy 
 notions on the subject o' drink in five minutes than a
 
 THE MATTER OF DRINK 133 
 
 high-pressure locomotive could blow off steam through 
 a five-inch leak in ha'f a year. He wus an eddication 
 in langwige, sir, sech as 'ud per-suade a wall-eyed mule 
 to do what he didn't want, and wa'n't goin' to do any- 
 ways. 
 
 " I corralled the boys up in the yard, an' the feller 
 got good an' goin'. He spotted Joe right off ; fixed 
 him wi' his eye an' focussed him dead centre, an' 
 talked right at him. An' Joe wus iled that iled he 
 couldn't keep a straight trail ferslippin'. Say, speakin' 
 metaphoric, that feller got the drop on pore Joe. He 
 give him a dose o' syllables in the pit o' the stummick 
 that made him curl, then he follered it right up wi' a 
 couple o' slugs o' his choicest, 'fore he could straighten 
 up. Then he sort o' picked him up an' shook him 
 with a power o' langwige, an' sot him down like a 
 spanked kid. Then he clouted him over both lugs with 
 a shower o' words wi' capitals, clumped him over the 
 head wi' a bunch o' texts, an' thrashed him wi' a fact'ry 
 o' trac' papers. Say, I guess pore Joe wouldn't 'a' 
 rec'nized the flavor o' whisky from blue pizen when 
 that feller had done ; an' we jest looked on, feelin' 
 'bout as happy as a lot o' old hens worritin' to hatch 
 out a batch o' Easter eggs. Say, pore Joe wus weepin' 
 over his sins, an' I guess we wus all 'most ready to cry. 
 Then the feller up an' sez, ' Fetch out the pernicious 
 sperrit, the nectar o' the devil, the waters o' the Styx, 
 the vile filth as robs homes o' their support, an' drives 
 whole races to perdition ! ' an' a lot o' other big talk. 
 An', say, we fetched ! Yes, sir, we fetched like a lot o' 
 silly, skippin' lambs. We brought out six bottles o'
 
 134 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 the worstest rotgut ever faked in a settlement saloon, 
 an' handed it over. After that I guess we wus feelin' 
 better. Sez we, feelin' kind o' mumsy over the whole 
 racket, it ain't right, we sez, to harbor no sperrit-soaked, 
 liver-pickled tag of a decent citizen's life around this 
 layout; an' so we took Joe Nelson to the river and 
 diluted him. After that I 'lows we lay low. I did hear 
 as some o' the boys said their prayers that night, which 
 goes to show as they wus feelin' kind o' thin an' mean. 
 Ther' wa'n't a feller ther' but wus dead swore off fer a 
 week. 
 
 " Guess it wus most the middle o' the night when 
 Jim Yard comes to my shack an' fetched me out. He 
 told me there wus a racket goin' on in the settlement. 
 That temperator wus down ther' blazin' drunk an' 
 shootin' up the town. Say, I felt kind o' hot at that. 
 Yup, pretty sulphury an' hot, an' I went right out, quiet 
 like, and fetched the boys. Them as had said their 
 prayers wus the first to join me. Wai, we went along 
 an' did things with that. Ah, guess Jake's comin' this 
 way ; likely he wants somethin'." 
 
 Arizona turned abruptly to his saddle again, while 
 all eyes looked over at the approaching foreman. Jake 
 strode up. Arizona took no notice of him. It was his 
 way of showing his dislike for the man. Jake permitted 
 one glance nor was it a friendly one in his direction, 
 then he went straight over to where Tresler was 
 sitting. 
 
 " Get that mare of yours saddled, Tresler," he said, 
 " and ride into Forks. You'll fetch out that skulkin' 
 coyote, Joe Nelson. You'll fetch him out, savee ?
 
 THE MATTER OF DRINK 135 
 
 Maybe he's at the saloon sure he's drunk, anyway. 
 An' if he ain't handed over that letter to the sheriff, 
 you'll see to it Say, you'd best shake him up some ; 
 don't be too easy." 
 
 " I'll bring him out," replied Tresler, quietly. 
 
 " Hah, kind o' squeamish," sneered Jake. 
 
 " No. I'm not knocking drunken men about. That's 
 all." 
 
 "Wai, go and bring him out," snarled the giant 
 " I'll see to the rest" 
 
 Tresler went off to the barn without another word. 
 His going was almost precipitate, but not from any fear 
 of Jake. It was himself he feared. This merciless 
 brute drove him to distraction every time he came into 
 contact with him, and the only way he found it possible 
 to keep the peace with him at all was by avoiding him, 
 by getting out of his way, by shutting him out of mind, 
 whenever it was possible. 
 
 In a few minutes he had set out His uneasy mare 
 was still only half tamed, and very fresh. She left the 
 yards peaceably enough, but jibbed at the river ford. 
 The inevitable thrashing followed, Tresler knowing 
 far too much by now to spare her. Just for one moment 
 she seemed inclined to submit and behave herself, and 
 take to the water kindly. Then her native cussed- 
 ness asserted itself; she shook her head angrily, and 
 caught the bar of the spade-bit in her great, strong 
 teeth, swung round, and, stretching her long ewe neck, 
 headed south across country as hard as she could 
 lay heels to the ground. 
 
 Tresler fought her every foot of the way, but it was
 
 136 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 useless. The devil possessed her, and she worked her 
 will on him. By the time he should have reached 
 Forks he was ten miles in the opposite direction. 
 
 However, he was not the man to take such a display 
 too kindly, and, having at length regained control, he 
 turned her back and pressed her to make up time. 
 And it made him smile, as he rode, to feel the swing of 
 the creature's powerful strides under him. He could 
 not punish her by asking for pace, and he knew it. 
 She seemed to revel in a rapid journey, and the extra 
 run taken on her own account only seemed to have 
 warmed her up to even greater efforts. 
 
 It was nearly ten o'clock when he drew near Forks ; 
 and the moon had only just risen. The mare was 
 docile enough now, and raced along with her ears 
 pricked and her whole fiery disposition alert. 
 
 The trail approached Forks from the west. That is 
 to say, it took a big bend and entered on the western 
 side. Already Tresler could see the houses beyond the 
 trees silhouetted in the moonlight, but the nearer ap- 
 proach was bathed in shadow. The trail came down 
 from a rising ground, cutting its way through the bush, 
 and, passing the lights of the saloon, went on to the 
 market-place. 
 
 He checked the mare's impetuosity as he came down 
 the slope. She was too valuable for him to risk her legs. 
 With all her vices, he knew there was not a horse on 
 the ranch that could stand beside the Lady Jezebel on 
 the trail. 
 
 She propped jerkily as she descended the hill. Every 
 little rustle of the lank grass startled her, and gave her
 
 THE MATTER OF DRINK 137 
 
 excuse for frivolity. Her rider was forced to keep a 
 watchful eye and a close seat. A shadowy kit fox 
 worried her with its stealthy movements. It kept pace 
 with her in its silent, ghostly way, now invisible in the 
 long grass, now in full view beside the trail ; but always 
 abreast. 
 
 Half-way down the trail both horse and rider were 
 startled seriously. A riderless horse, saddled and 
 bridled, dashed out of the darkness and galloped across 
 them. Of her own accord Lady Jezebel swung round, 
 and, before Tresler could check her, had set off in hot 
 pursuit. For once horse and rider were of the same 
 mind, and Tresler bent low in the saddle, ready to grab 
 at the bridle when his mare should overhaul the 
 stranger. 
 
 In less than a minute they were abreast of their 
 quarry. The stranger's reins were hanging broken 
 from the bit, and Tresler grabbed at them. Nor could 
 he help a quiet laugh, when, on pulling up, he recog- 
 nized the buckskin pony and quaint old stock saddle of 
 Joe Nelson. And he at once became alive to the neces- 
 sity of his journey. What, he wondered, had happened 
 to the little choreman ? 
 
 Leading the captive, he rode back to the trail and 
 pushed on toward the village. But his adventures 
 were not over yet. At the bottom of the hill the mare, 
 brought up to a stand, reared and shied violently. Then 
 she stood trembling like an aspen, seizing every oppor- 
 tunity to edge from the trail, and all the while staring 
 with wild, dilated eyes away out toward the bush on the 
 right front. Her rider followed the direction of her
 
 138 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 gaze to ascertain the cause of the trouble. For some 
 minutes he could distinguish nothing unusual in the 
 darkness. The moon had not as yet attained much 
 power, and gave him very little assistance ; but, realiz- 
 ing the wonderful acuteness of a horse's vision, he 
 decided that there nevertheless was something to be 
 investigated. So he dismounted, and adopting the 
 common prairie method of scanning the sky-line, he 
 dropped to the ground. 
 
 For some time his search was quite vain, and only 
 the mare's nervous state encouraged him. Then at 
 length, low down in the deep shadow of the bush, 
 something caught and held his attention. Something 
 was moving down there. 
 
 He lay quite still, watching intently. Something of 
 the mare's nervous excitement gripped him. The 
 movement was ghostly. It was only a movement. 
 There was nothing distinct to be seen, nothing tangible ; 
 just a weird, nameless something. A dozen times he 
 asked himself what it was. But the darkness always 
 baffled him, and he could find no answer. He had an 
 impression of great flapping wings such wings as 
 might belong to a giant bat. The movement was 
 sufficiently regular to suggest this, but the idea car- 
 ried no conviction. There, however, his conjectures 
 ended. 
 
 At last he sprang up with a sharp ejaculation, and 
 his hand went to his revolver. The thing, or creature, 
 whatever it was, was coming slowly but steadily 
 toward him. Had he not been sure of this, the attitude 
 of the horses would have settled the question for him.
 
 THE MATTER OF DRINK 139 
 
 Lady Jezebel pulled back in the throes of a wild fear, 
 and the buckskin plunged madly to get free. 
 
 He had hardly persuaded them to a temporary calm- 
 ness, when a mournful cry, rising in a wailing cres- 
 cendo, split the air and died away abruptly. And he 
 knew that it came from the advancing " movement." 
 
 And now it left the shadow and drew out into the 
 moonlight. And the man watching beheld a dark 
 heap distinctly outlined midway toward the bush. 
 The wings seemed to have folded themselves, or, at 
 least, to have lowered, and were trailing on the ground 
 in the creature's wake. Presently the whole thing 
 ceased to move, and sat still like a great loathsome 
 toad a silent, uncanny heap amidst the lank prairie 
 grass. And somehow he felt glad that it was no longer 
 approaching. 
 
 The moments crept by, and the position remained 
 unchanged. Then slowly, with an air of settled pur- 
 pose, the creature raised itself on its hind legs, and, 
 swaying and shuffling, continued its advance. In an 
 instant Tresler's revolver leapt from its holster, and he 
 was ready to defend himself. The attitude was famil- 
 iar to him. He had read stories of the bears in the 
 Rockies, and they came home to him now as he saw 
 his adversary rear itself to its full height. His puzzle- 
 ment was over ; he understood now. He was dealing 
 with a large specimen of the Rocky Mountain grizzly. 
 
 Yes, there could be no mistaking the swaying gait, 
 the curious, snorting breathing, the sadly lolling head 
 and slow movements. He remembered each detail 
 with an exactness which astonished him, and was
 
 140 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 thrilled with the bristling sensation which assails every 
 hunter when face to face with big game for the first 
 time in his life. 
 
 He raised his gun, and took a long, steady aim, 
 measuring the distance with deliberation, and selecting 
 the animal's breast for his shot. Then, just as he was 
 about to fire, the brute's head turned and caught the 
 cold, sharp moonlight full upon its face. There was a 
 momentary flash of white, and Tresler's gun was low- 
 ered as though it had been struck down.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 JOE NELSON INDULGES IN A LITTLE MATCH-MAKING 
 
 THE moonlight had revealed the grotesque features 
 of Joe Nelson ! 
 
 Tresler returned his gun to its holster precipitately, 
 and his action had in it all the chagrin of a man who 
 has been " had " by a practical joker. His discom- 
 fiture, however, quickly gave way before the humor of 
 the situation, and he burst into a roar of laughter. 
 
 He laughed while he watched his bear drop again 
 to his hands and knees, and continue to crawl toward 
 him, till the tears rolled down his cheeks. On came 
 the little fellow, enveloped in the full embracing folds 
 of a large brown blanket, and his silent dogged prog- 
 ress warned. Tresler that, as yet, his own presence was 
 either unrealized or ignored in the earnestness of his 
 unswerving purpose. And the nature of that purpose 
 for Tresler had fully realized it was the most laugh- 
 able thing of all. Joe was stalking his buckskin pony 
 with the senseless cunning of a drunken man. 
 
 At last the absurdity of the position became too much, 
 and he hailed the little choreman in the midst of his 
 laughter. 
 
 " Ho ! You, Joe ! " he called. " What the blazes 
 d'you think you're doing ? " 
 
 There was no reply. For all heed the man under
 
 142 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 the blanket gave, he might have been deaf, dumb and 
 blind. He just came steadily on. 
 
 Tresler shouted again, and more sharply. This time 
 his summons had its effect. It brought an answer an 
 answer that set him off into a fresh burst of laughter. 
 
 " Gorl darn it, boys," came a peevish voice, from 
 amidst the blanket, " 'tain't smart, neither, playin' 
 around when a feller's kind o' roundin' up his plug. 
 How'm I goin' to cut that all-fired buckskin out o' the 
 bunch wi' you gawkin' around like a reg'ment o' ho- 
 boes ? Ef you don't reckon to fool any, why, some o' 
 you git around an' head him off from the rest of 
 'em. I'd do it myself on'y my cussed legs has given 
 out." 
 
 "Boys, eh?" Tresler was still laughing, but he 
 checked his mirth sufficiently to answer, " Why, man, 
 it's the whisky that's fooling you. There are no 'boys,' 
 and no ' bunch ' of horses here. Just your horse and 
 mine ; and I've got them both safe enough. You're 
 drunk, Joe beastly drunk." 
 
 Joe suddenly struggled to his feet and stood swaying 
 uncertainly, but trying hard to steady himself. He 
 focussed his eyes with much effort upon the tall figure 
 before him, and then suddenly moved forward like a 
 man crossing a brook on a single, narrow, and danger- 
 ously swaying plank. He all but pitched headlong into 
 the waiting man as he reached him, and would un- 
 doubtedly have fallen to the ground but for the aid of 
 a friendly hand thrust out to catch him. And while 
 Tresler turned to pacify the two thoroughly frightened 
 horses, the little man's angry tones snapped out at him
 
 JOE INDULGES IN MATCH-MAKING 143 
 
 in what was intended for a dignified protest. In spite 
 of his drunken condition, his words were distinct 
 enough, though his voice was thick. After all, as he 
 said, it was his legs that had given way. 
 
 " Guess you're that blazin' ' tenderfoot ' Tresler," he 
 said, with all the sarcasm he was capable of at the mo- 
 ment. " Wai, say, Mr. a'mighty Tresler, ef it wa'n't 
 as you wus a ' tenderfoot,' I'd shoot you fer sayin' I 
 wus drunk. Savee ? You bein' a ' tenderfoot,' I'll jest 
 mention you're side-tracked, you're most on the scrap 
 heap, you've left the sheer trail an' you're ditched. 
 You've hit a gait you can't travel, an' don't amount to 
 a decent, full-sized jackass. Savee ? I ain't drunk. 
 It's drink ; see ? Carney's rotgut. I tell you right 
 here I'm sober, but my legs ain't. Mebbe you're that 
 fool-headed you don't savee the difference." 
 
 Tresler restrained a further inclination to laugh. He 
 had wasted too much time already, and was anxious to 
 get back to the ranch. He quite realized that Joe knew 
 what he was about, if his legs were kors-de-combat, for, 
 after delivering himself of this, his unvarnished opinion, 
 he wisely sought the safer vantage-ground of a sitting 
 posture. 
 
 Tresler grabbed at the blanket and pulled it off his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " What's this ? " he asked sharply. 
 
 Joe looked up, his little eyes sparkling with resent- 
 ment. 
 
 " 'Tain't yours, anyway," he said. Then he added 
 with less anger, and some uncertainty, " Guess I slept 
 some down at the bushes. Durned plug got busy
 
 144 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 'stead o' waitin' around. The fool boss ain't got no 
 manners anyways." 
 
 " Manners ? Don't blither." Tresler seized him by 
 the coat collar and yanked him suddenly upon his feet. 
 " Now, hand over that letter to Sheriff Fyles. I've 
 orders to deliver it myself." 
 
 Joe's twisted face turned upward with a comical ex- 
 pression of perplexity. The moonlight caught his eyes, 
 and he blinked. Then he looked over at the horses, 
 and, shaking his head solemnly, began to fumble at 
 his pockets. 
 
 "S-Sheriff F-Fyles," he answered doubtfully. He 
 seemed to have forgotten the very name. " F-Fyles ? " 
 he repeated again. " Letter ? Say, now, I wus kind 
 o' wonderin' what I cum to Forks fer. Y' see I mostly 
 git around Forks fer Carney's rotgut. Course, ther* 
 wus a letter. Jest wher' did I put that now ? " He 
 became quite cheerful as he probed his pockets. 
 
 Tresler waited until, swaying and even stumbling in 
 the process, he had turned out two pockets ; then his 
 impatience getting the better of him, he proceeded to 
 conduct the search himself. 
 
 " Now see here," he said firmly, " I'll go through 
 your pockets. If you've lost it, there'll be trouble for 
 you when you get back. If you'd only kept clear of 
 that saloon you would have been all right." 
 
 " That's so," said Joe humbly, as he submitted to the 
 other's search. 
 
 Tresler proceeded systematically. There was noth- 
 ing but tobacco and pipe in the outside pockets of his 
 coat. His trousers revealed a ten-cent piece and a
 
 JOE INDULGES IN MATCH-MAKING 145 
 
 dollar bill, which the choreman thanked him profusely 
 for finding, assuring him, regretfully, that he wouldn't 
 have left the saloon if he had known he had it. The 
 inside pocket of the coat was drawn blank of all but a 
 piece of newspaper, and Tresler pronounced his verdict 
 in no measured terms. 
 
 " You drunken little fool, you've lost it," he said, as 
 he held out the unfolded newspaper. 
 
 Joe seemed past resentment with his fresh trouble. 
 He squinted hard to get the newspaper into proper focus. 
 
 " Say," he observed meekly, " I guess it wus in that, 
 sure. Sure, yes," he nodded emphatically, " I planted 
 it that a-ways to kep it from the dirt. I 'member 
 readin' the headin' o' that paper. Et wus 'bout some 
 high-soundin' female in New Yo " 
 
 " Confound it ! " Tresler was more distressed for the 
 little man than angry with him. He knew Jake would 
 be furious, and cast about in his mind for excuses that 
 might save him. The only one he could think of was 
 feeble enough, but he suggested it. 
 
 " Well, there's only one thing to do ; we must ride 
 back, and you can say you lost the letter on the way 
 out, and have spent the day looking for it." 
 
 Joe seemed utterly dejected. " Sure, yes. There's 
 on'y one thing to do," he murmured disconsolately. 
 " We must ride back. Say, you're sure, plumb sure it 
 ain't in one of my pockets ? Dead sure I must 'a' lost 
 it?" 
 
 " No doubt of it. Damn it, Joe, I'm sorry. You'll 
 be in a deuce of a scrape with Jake. It's all that cursed 
 drink."
 
 146 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 "That's so," murmured the culprit mournfully. His 
 face was turned away. Now it suddenly brightened as 
 though a fresh and more hopeful view of the matter had 
 presented itself, and his twisted features slowly wreathed 
 themselves into a smile. His deep-set eyes twinkled 
 with an odd sort of mischievous humor as he raised 
 them abruptly to the troubled face of his companion. 
 
 " Guess I kind o' forgot to tell you. I gave the 
 sheriff that letter this mornin' 'fore I called on Carney. 
 Mebbe, ef I'd told you 'fore I'd 'a' saved you " 
 
 "You little " 
 
 Tresler could find no words to express his exaspera- 
 tion. He made a grab at the now grinning man's coat 
 collar, seized him, and, lifting him bodily, literally threw 
 him on to the back of his buckskin pony. 
 
 " You little old devil ! " he at last burst out ; " you 
 stay there, and back you go to the ranch. I'll shake 
 the liquor out of you before we get home." 
 
 Tresler sprang into his saddle, and, turning his 
 mare's head homeward, led the buckskin and its 
 drunken freight at a rattling pace. And Joe kept si- 
 lence for a while. He felt it was best so. But, in the 
 end, he was the first to speak, and when he did so there 
 was a quiet dryness in his tone that pointed all he said. 
 
 " Say, Tresler, I'm kind o' sorry you wus put to all 
 that figgerin' an' argyment," he said, shaking up his 
 old pony to bring him alongside the speedy mare. 
 "Y' see ye never ast me 'bout that letter. Kind o' 
 jumped me fer a fool-head at oncet. Which is most 
 gener'ly the nature o' boys o' your years. Conclusions 
 is mostly hasty, but I 'lows they're reas'nable in their
 
 JOE INDULGES IN MATCH-MAKING 147 
 
 places which is last. An' I sez it wi'out offense, ther' 
 ain't a blazin' thing born in this world that don't reckon 
 to con-elude fer itself 'fore it's rightly begun. Every- 
 thing needs teachin', from a 'tenderfoot' to a New 
 York babby." 
 
 Joe's homily banished the last shadow of Tresler's 
 ill-humor. The little man had had the best of him in 
 his quiet, half-drunken manner ; a manner which, though 
 rough, was still irresistible. 
 
 "That's all right, Joe. I'm no match for you," he 
 said with a laugh. " But, setting jokes on one side, I 
 think you're in for trouble with Jake. I saw it in his 
 eye before I started out." 
 
 " I don't think. Guess I'm plumb sure," Joe replied 
 quietly. 
 
 "Then why on earth did you do it?" 
 
 Joe humped his back with a movement expressive of 
 unconcern. 
 
 " It don't matter why. Jake's nigh killed me ha'f a 
 dozen times. One o' these days he'll fix me sure. He'll 
 lace hell out o' me to-morrow, I'm guessin', an' when 
 it's done it won't alter nothin' anyways. I've jest 
 two things in this world, I notion, an' one of 'em's 
 drink. 'Tain't no use in sayin' it ain't, 'cos I guess my 
 legs is most unnateral truthful 'bout drink. Say, I don't 
 worrit no folk when I'm drunk ; guess I don't interfere 
 wi' no one's consarns when I'm drunk ; I'm jest kind 
 o' happy when I'm drunk. Which bein' so, makes it 
 no one's bizness but my own. I do it 'cos I gits a 
 heap o' pleasure out o' it. I know I ain't worth hell 
 room. But I got my notions, an' I ain't goin' ter budge
 
 148 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 fer no one." Joe's slantwise mouth was set obstinately ; 
 his little eyes flashed angrily in the moonlight, and his 
 whole attitude was one of a man combating an argu- 
 ment which his soul is set against. 
 
 As Tresler had no idea of arguing the question and 
 remained silent, the choreman went on in a modified 
 tone of morbid self-sympathy 
 
 " When the time comes around I'll hand over my 
 checks wi'out no fuss nor botheration ; guess I'll cash 
 in wi' as much grit as George Washington. I don't 
 calc'late as life is wuth worritin' over anyways. We 
 don't ast to be born, an', comin' into the world wi'out no 
 by-your-leave, I don't figger as folks has a right to say 
 we've got to take a hand in any bluff we don't notion." 
 
 " Perhaps you've a certain amount of right on your 
 side." Tresler felt that this hopeless pessimism was 
 rather the result of drink than natural to him. " But 
 you said you had two things that you considered worth 
 living for ? " 
 
 " That's so. I ain't goin' back on what I said. It's 
 jest that other what set me yarnin'. Say, guess you're 
 mostly a pretty decent feller, Tresler, though I 'lows 
 you has failin's. You're kind o' young. Now I guess 
 you ain't never pumped lead into the other feller, which 
 the same he's doin' satisfact'ry by you ? You kind o' 
 like most fellers ? " 
 
 Tresler nodded. 
 
 "Jest so. But I've noticed you don't fancy folks as 
 gits gay wi' you. You kind o' make things uneasy. 
 Wai, that's a fault you'll git over. Mebbe, later on, 
 when a feller gits rilin' you you'll work your gun, in-
 
 JOE INDULGES IN MATCH-MAKING 149 
 
 stead of trying to thump savee into his head. Heads 
 is mighty cur'us out west here. They're so chock full 
 o' savee, ther' ain't no use in thumpin' more into 'em. 
 Et's a heap easier to let it out. But that's on the side. 
 I most gener'ly see things, an' kind o' notice fellers, an' 
 that's how I sized you up. Y' see I've done a heap o' 
 settin' around M'skeeter Bend fer nigh on ten years, 
 mostly watchin'. Now, mebbe, y' ain't never sot no 
 plant, an' bedded it gentle wi' sifted mould, an' watered 
 it careful, an' sot right ther' on a box, an' watched it 
 grow in a spot wher' ther' wa'n't no bizness fer any- 
 thin' but weeds ? " 
 
 Tresler shook his head, wonderingly. 
 
 " No ; guess not," Joe went on. " Say," he added, 
 turning and looking earnestly into his companion's 
 face, " I'm settin' on that box right now. Yes, sir, I've 
 watched that plant grow. I've picked the stones out 
 so the young shoots could git through nice an' easy- 
 like. I've watered it. I've washened the leaves when 
 the blights come along. I've sticked it against the 
 winds. I've done most everythin' I could, usin' soap- 
 suds and soot waters, an' all them tasty liquids to coax 
 it on. I've sot ther' a-smilin' to see the lovesome buds 
 come along an' open out, an' make the air sweet wi' 
 perfumes an' color an' things. I've sot right ther' an' 
 tho't an' tho't a heap o' tho'ts around that flower, an' 
 felt all crinkly up the back wi' pleasure. An' I ain't 
 never wanted ter leave that box. No, sir, an' the days 
 wus bright, an' nothin' seemed amiss wi' life nor nothin'. 
 But I tell you it ain't no good. No, sir, 'tain't no good, 
 'cos I ain't got the guts to git up an' dig hard'. I've
 
 150 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 reached out an' pulled a weed or two, but them weeds 
 had got a holt on that bed 'fore I sot the seedlin', an' 
 they've growed till my pore flower is nigh to be choked. 
 'Tain't no use watchin' when weeds is growin'. It 
 wants a feller as can dig ; an' I guess I ain't that feller. 
 Sa)', ther's mighty hard diggin' to be done right now, 
 an' the feller as does it has got to do it standin' right 
 up to the job. Savee ? I'm sayin' right now to you, 
 Tresler, them weeds is chokin' the life out o' her. She's 
 mazed up wi' 'em. Ther' ain't no escape. None. Her 
 life's bound to be hell anyways." 
 
 "Her? Whom?" Tresler asked the question, but 
 he knew that Joe was referring to Diane ; Diane's 
 welfare was his other interest in life. 
 
 The little man turned with a start. " Eh ? Miss 
 Dianny o' course." 
 
 " And the weeds ? " 
 
 " Jake an' her father." 
 
 And the two men became silent, while their horses 
 ambled leisurely on toward home. It was Tresler who 
 broke the silence at last 
 
 " And this is the reason you've stayed so long on the 
 ranch?" he asked. 
 
 " Mebbe. I don't reckon as I could 'a' done much," 
 Joe answered hopelessly. "What could a drunken 
 choreman do anyways ? Leastways the pore kid hadn't 
 got no mother, an' I guess ther' wa'n't a blazin' soul 
 around as she could yarn her troubles to. When she 
 got fixed, I guess ther' wa'n't no one to put her right. 
 And when things was hatchin', ther' wa'n't no one to 
 give her warnin' but me. ' What is the trouble ? ' you
 
 JOE INDULGES IN MATCH-MAKING 151 
 
 ast," the little man went on gloomily. "Trouble? 
 Wai, I'd smile. Ther' ain't nothin' but trouble around 
 M'skeeter Bend, sure. Trouble for her trouble all 
 round. Her trouble's her father, an' Jake. Jake's set 
 on marryin' her. Jake," in a tone of withering scorn, 
 " who's only fit to mate wi' a bitch wolf. An' her fa- 
 ther say, he hates her. Hates her like a neche hates 
 a rattler. An' fer why ? Gawd only knows ; I ain't 
 never found out. Say, that gal is his slave, sure. Ef 
 she raises her voice, she gits it. Not, I guess, as Jake 
 handles me, but wi' the sneakin' way of a devil. Say, 
 the things he does makes me most ready to cry like a 
 kid. An' all the time he threatens her wi' Jake fer a 
 husband. An' she don't never complain. Not she; 
 no sir. You don't know the blind hulks, Tresler ; but 
 ther', it ain't no use in gassin'. He don't never mean 
 her fer Jake, an' I guess she knows it. But she's plumb 
 scared, anyways." 
 
 Tresler contemplated the speaker earnestly in the 
 moonlight. He marveled at the quaint outward form 
 of the chivalrous spirit within. He was trying to rec- 
 oncile the antagonistic natures of which this strange 
 little bundle of humanity was made up. For ten years 
 Joe had put up with the bullying and physical brutality 
 of Jake Harnach, so that, in however small a way, he 
 might help to make easy the rough life-path of a lonely 
 girl. And his motives were all unselfish. A latent 
 chivalry held him which no depths of drunkenness 
 could drown. He leant over and held out his hand. 
 
 " Joe," he said, " I want to shake hands with you 
 and call you my friend."
 
 152 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 The choreman held back for a moment in some con- 
 fusion. Then, as though moved by sudden impulse, 
 he gripped the hand so cordially offered. 
 
 " But I ain't done yet," he said a moment later. He 
 had no wish to advertise his own good deeds. He was 
 pleading for another. Some one who could not plead 
 for herself. His tone had assumed a roughness hardly 
 in keeping with the gentle, reflective manner in which 
 he had talked of his " flower." " Tresler," he went on, 
 "y're good stuff, but y' ain't good 'nough to dust that 
 gal's boots, no not by a sight. Meanin' no offense. 
 But she needs the help o' some one as'll dig at them 
 weeds standin'. See ? Which means you. I can't 
 tell you all I know, I can't tell you all I've seed. One 
 o' them things I guess on'y one is that Jake's goin' 
 to best blind hulks an' force him into givin' him his 
 daughter in marriage, and Gawd help that pore gal. 
 But I swar to Gawd ef I'm pollutin' this airth on the 
 day as sees Jake worritin' Miss Dianny, I'll perf'rate 
 him till y' can't tell his dog-gone carkis from a parlor 
 cinder-sifter." 
 
 " Tell me how I can help, and count me in to the 
 limit," said Tresler, catching, in his eagerness, some- 
 thing of the other's manner of expression. 
 
 It was evident by the way the choreman's face lit up 
 at his friend's words that he had hoped for such sup- 
 port, but feared that he should not get it. Joe Nelson 
 was distinctly worldly wise, but with a heart of gold 
 deep down beneath his wisdom. He had made no mis- 
 take in this man whose sympathies he had succeeded 
 in enlisting. He fully understood that he was dealing
 
 JOE INDULGES IN MATCH-MAKING 153 
 
 with just a plain, honest man, otherwise he would have 
 kept silence. 
 
 "Wai, I guess ther' ain't a deal to tell." The little 
 man looked straight ahead toward the dark streak 
 which marked the drop from the prairie land to the bed 
 of the Mosquito River. "Still, it's li'ble to come along 
 right smart." 
 
 The man's suggestion puzzled Tresler, but he waited. 
 His own mind was clear as to what he personally in- 
 tended, but it seemed to him that Joe was troubled with 
 other thoughts besides the main object of his discourse. 
 And it was these very side issues that he was keen to 
 learn. However, whatever Joe thought, whatever con- 
 fusion or perplexity he might have been in, he sud- 
 denly returned to his main theme with great warmth of 
 feeling. 
 
 " But when it comes, Tresler, you'll stand by ? You'll 
 plug hard fer her, jest as ef it was you he was tryin' to 
 do up ? You'll stop him ? Say, you'll jest round 
 that gal up into your own corrals, an' set your own 
 brand on her quick, eh ? That's what I'm askin'." 
 
 " I see. Marry her, eh?" 
 
 " An' why not ? " asked Joe quickly. " She's a heap 
 too good fer you. Ther' ain't a feller breathin' amounts 
 to a row o' beans aside o' her. But it's the on'y way 
 to save her from Jake. You'll do it. Yes, sure, you'll 
 do it. I ken see it in your face." 
 
 The little fellow was leaning over, peering up into 
 Tresler's face with anxious, almost fierce eyes. His 
 emotion was intense, and at that moment a refusal 
 would have driven him to despair.
 
 154 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " You are too swift for me, Joe," Treslersaid quietly. 
 But his tone seemed to satisfy his companion, for the 
 latter sat back in his saddle with a sigh of relief. " It 
 takes the consent of two people to make a marriage. 
 However," he went on, with deep earnestness, " I'll 
 promise you this, Miss Marbolt shall never marry Jake 
 unless it is her own wish to do so. And, furthermore, 
 she shall never lack a friend, ready to act on her be- 
 half, while I am in the country." 
 
 " You've said it." 
 
 And the finality of Joe's tone brought silence. 
 
 In spite of the punishment he knew to be awaiting 
 him, Joe was utterly happy. It was as though a weight, 
 which had been oppressing him for years, had suddenly 
 been lifted from his shoulders. He would cheerfully 
 have ridden on to any terror ever conceived by the 
 ruthless Jake. Diane's welfare Diane's happiness ; it 
 was the key-note of his life. He had watched. He 
 knew. Tresler was willing enough to marry her, and 
 she he chuckled joyfully to himself. 
 
 " Jake ain't a dorg's chance a yaller dorg's chance. 
 When the ' tenderfoot ' gits good an' goin' he'll choke 
 the life out o' Master Jake. Gee 1 " 
 
 And Tresler, too, was busy with his thoughts. Joe's 
 suggestion had brought him face to face with hard fact, 
 and, moreover, in a measure, he had pledged himself. 
 Now he realized, after having listened to the little 
 man's story, how much he had fallen in love with 
 Diane. Joe, he knew, loved her as a father might love 
 his child, or a gardener his flowers ; but his was the 
 old, old story that brought him a delight such as he
 
 JOE INDULGES IN MATCH-MAKING 155 
 
 felt no one else had ever experienced. Yes, he knew 
 now he loved Diane with all the strength of his power- 
 ful nature ; and he knew, too, that there could be lit- 
 tle doubt but that he had fallen a victim to the beauti- 
 ful dark, sad face he had seen peering up at him from 
 beneath the straw sun-hat, at the moment of their first 
 meeting. Would he marry Diane ? Ay a thousand 
 times ay if she would have him. But there it was 
 that he had more doubts than Joe. Would she marry 
 him ? he asked himself, and a chill damped the ardor 
 of his thoughts. 
 
 And so, as they rode on, he argued out the old ar- 
 guments of the lover ; so he wrestled with all the old 
 doubts and fears. So he became absorbed in an ardent 
 train of thought which shut out all the serious issues 
 which he felt, that, for his very love's sake, he should 
 have probed deeply. So he rode on impervious to the 
 keen, studious, sidelong glances wise old, drunken old 
 Joe favored him with ; impervious to all, save the flame 
 of love this wild old ranchman had fanned from a 
 smouldering ember to a living fire ; impervious to time 
 and distance, until the man at his side, now thoroughly 
 sobered, called his attention to their arrival at the ranch. 
 
 " Say, boy," he observed, " that's the barn yonder. 
 'Fore we git ther' ther's jest one thing more. Jake's 
 goin' to play his hand by force. Savee ? Mebbe 
 we've a notion o' that force Miss Dianny an' me 
 
 " Yes, and we must think this thing thoroughly 
 out, Joe. Developments must be our cue. We can 
 do nothing but wait and be ready. There's the sher- 
 iff "
 
 156 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 "Eh? Sheriff?" Joe swung round, and was peer- 
 ing up into Tresler's face. 
 
 " Ah, I forgot." Tresler's expression was very 
 thoughtful. They had arrived at the barn, and were 
 dismounting. " I was following out my own train of 
 thought. I agree with you, Joe, Red Mask and his do- 
 ings are at the bottom of this business." His voice 
 had dropped now to a low whisper lest any one should 
 chance to be around. 
 
 Without a word Joe led his horse into the barn, and, 
 off-saddling him, fixed him up for the night. Tresler 
 did the same for his mare. Then they came out to- 
 gether. At the door Joe paused. 
 
 " Say," he remarked simply, " 1 jest didn't know you 
 wus that smart." 
 
 "Don't credit me with smartness. It's poor little 
 girl." 
 
 . " Ah ! " Joe's face twisted into his apish grin. 
 " Say, you'll stick to what you said ? " 
 
 " Every word of it." 
 
 " Good ; the rest's doin' itself, sure." 
 
 And they went their several ways ; Joe to the kitchen 
 of the house, and Tresler to his dusty mattress in the 
 bunkhouse.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 TRESLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER ; THE LADY 
 JEZEBEL IN A FREAKISH MOOD 
 
 ENTHUSIASM is the mainspring- of a cowboy's life. 
 Without enthusiasm a cowboy inevitably falls to the 
 inglorious level of a " hired man " ; a nice distinction 
 in the social conditions of frontier life. The cowboy is 
 sometimes a good man not meaning a man of relig- 
 ion and often a bad man. He is rarely indifferent. 
 There are no half measures with him. His pride is in 
 his craft. He will lavish the tenderness of a mother 
 for her child upon his horse ; he will play poker till he 
 has had the doubtful satisfaction of seeing his last cent 
 pass into somebody else's pocket ; he will drink on the 
 most generous scale, and is ever ready to quarrel. 
 Even in this last he believes in thoroughness. But he 
 has many good points which often outweigh his baser 
 instincts. They can be left to the imagination ; for it is 
 best to know the worst of him at the outset to get a 
 proper, and not a glorified estimate of his true charac- 
 ter. The object of this story is to give a veracious, 
 and not a highly gilded picture of the hardy prairie 
 man of days gone by. 
 
 Before all things the cowboy is a horseman. His 
 pride in this almost amounts to a craze. His fastid- 
 iousness in horse-flesh, in his accoutrements, his boots,
 
 i$8 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 his chapps, his jaunty silk handkerchief about his neck, 
 even to the gauntlets he so often wears upon his hands, 
 is an education in dandyism. He is a thorough dandy 
 in his outfit. And the greater the dandy, the more 
 surely is he a capable horseman. He is not a horse- 
 breaker by trade, but he loves " broncho-busting " as a 
 boy loves his recreation. It comes to him as a relief 
 from the tedium of branding, feeding, rounding up, 
 cutting out, mending fences, and all the utility work of 
 the ranch. Every unbroken colt is like a ticket in a 
 lottery ; it may be easy, or it may be a tartar. And 
 the tartar is the prize that every cowpuncher wants to 
 draw so that he may demonstrate his horsemanship. 
 
 Broncho-busting was the order of the next day at 
 Mosquito Bend, and all hands were agog, and an ele- 
 ment of general cheeriness pervaded the bunkhouse 
 whilst breakfast was in preparation. Marbolt had ob- 
 tained a contract to supply the troops with a large 
 band of remounts, and the terms demanded that each 
 animal must be saddle-broken. 
 
 Tresler, with the rest, was up betimes. He, too, was 
 going to take his part in the horse-breaking. While 
 breakfast was in the course of preparation he went out 
 to overhaul his saddle. There must be no doubtful 
 straps in his gear. Each saddle would have a heavy 
 part to play, and his own, being one he had bought 
 second-hand from one of his comrades, needed looking 
 to. 
 
 He was very thoughtful as he went about his work. 
 His overnight talk with Joe Nelson had made him real- 
 ize that he was no longer a looker-on, a pupil, simply
 
 TRESLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER 159 
 
 one of the hands on the ranch. Hitherto he had felt, 
 in a measure, free in his actions. He could do as it 
 pleased him to do. He could have severed himself 
 from the ranch, and washed his hands of all that was 
 doing there. Now it was different. Whether he 
 would or no he must play out his part. He had taken 
 a certain stand, and that stand involved him with 
 responsibilities which he had no wish to shirk. 
 
 His saddle was in order, his mare had been rubbed 
 down and fed, and he was leisurely strolling over to 
 the bunkhouse for breakfast. And as he passed the 
 foreman's hut he heard Jake's voice from within hail- 
 ing him with unwonted cheeriness. 
 
 " Mornin', Tresler," he called out. " Late gettin' in 
 last night." 
 
 Tresler moved over and stood in the doorway. He 
 was wary of the tone, and answered coolly 
 
 " Yes ; the mare bolted this side of the ford, and 
 took me ten miles south. When I got on the Forks 
 trail I met Nelson on his way home." 
 
 " Ah, that mare's the very devil. How are you 
 doin' with her now ? " 
 
 " Oh, so, so. She leads me a dance, but I'd rather 
 have her than any plug you've got on the ranch. 
 She's the finest thing I've ever put a leg over." 
 
 " Yes, guess that's so. The boss was always struck 
 on her. I kind of remember when she came. She 
 wasn't bred hereabouts. The old man bought her 
 from some half-breed outfit goin' through the country 
 three years ago that's how he told me. Then we 
 tried to break her. Say, you've done well with her, boy."
 
 160 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Jake had been lacing up a pair of high field boots ; 
 they were massive things with heavy, clumped soles, 
 iron tips and heels. Now he straightened up. 
 
 "Did Nelson say why he was late?" he went on 
 abruptly. 
 
 " No. And I didn't ask him." 
 
 " Ah, knew it, I s'pose. Drunk ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 Tresler felt that the lie was a justifiable one. 
 
 " Then what the devil kept the little swine ? " 
 
 Jake's brows suddenly lowered, and the savage tone 
 was no less than the coarse brutality of his words. 
 The other's coolness grew more marked. 
 
 " That was none of my concern. He'd delivered the 
 letter, and it was only left for me to hurry him home." 
 
 " I'll swear he was loafin' around the saloon all day. 
 Say, I guess I'll see him later." 
 
 Tresler shrugged and turned away. He wanted to 
 tell this man what he thought of him. He felt posi- 
 tively murderous toward him. He had never met 
 anybody who could so rouse him. Sooner or later a 
 crisis would come, in spite of his reassurances to 
 Diane, and then Jake watched him go. Then he 
 turned again to the contemplation of his great boots, 
 and muttered to himself. 
 
 " It won't be for long no, not for long. But not 
 
 yet. Ther's too much hangin' to it " He broke 
 
 off, and his fierce eyes looked after the retreating man. 
 
 The unconscious object of these attentions mean- 
 while reached the bunkhouse. Breakfast was well on, 
 and he had to take his pannikin and plate round to
 
 TRESLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER 161 
 
 Teddy's cookhouse to get his food. " Slushy," as the 
 cook was familiarly called, dipped him out a liberal 
 measure of pork and beans, and handed him half a loaf 
 of new-made bread. Jinks was no niggard, and Tres- 
 ler was always welcome to all he needed. 
 
 " Coin' to ride ? " the youth demanded, as he filled 
 the pannikin with tea. 
 
 " Why, of course." Tresler had almost forgotten 
 the change of work that had been set out for the day. 
 His face brightened now as the cook reminded him of 
 it. " Wouldn't miss it for a lot. That mare of mine 
 has given me a taste for that sort of thing." 
 
 " Taste 1 " Teddy exclaimed, with a scornful wave of 
 his dipper. " Belly full, I tho't, mebbe." He turned 
 to his stove and shook the ashes down. " Say," he 
 went on, over his shoulder, " guess I'm bakin' hash in 
 mine. Ther' ain't so much glory, but ther's a heap 
 more comfort to it." 
 
 Tresler passed out smiling at the youth's ample 
 philosophy. But the smile died out almost on the in- 
 stant. A half-smothered cry reached him from some- 
 where in the direction of the barn. He stood for an 
 instant with his brows knitted. 
 
 The next, and his movements became almost elec- 
 trical. 
 
 Now the man's deliberate character flatly contra- 
 dicted itself. There was no pause for consideration, no 
 thought for what was best to do. He had heard that 
 cry, and had recognized the voice. It was a cry that 
 summoned him, and wrung the depths of his heart. 
 His breakfast was pitched to the ground. And, as
 
 162 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 though fate had ordained it, he beheld a heavy raw- 
 hide quirt lying on the ground where he had halted. 
 He grabbed the cruel weapon up, and set off at a run 
 in the direction whence the cry had come. 
 
 His feet were still encased in the soft moccasin slip- 
 pers he usually wore in exchange for his riding boots, 
 and, as he ran, they gave out no sound. It was a mat- 
 ter of fifty yards to the foreman's hut, and he sprinted 
 this in even time, keeping the building between him- 
 self and a direct view of the barn, in the region of 
 which lay his destination. And as he ran the set ex- 
 pression of his face boded ill for some one. Jaws and 
 mouth were clenched to a fierce rigidity that said far 
 more than any words could have done. 
 
 He paused for one breathless instant at the hither side 
 of the foreman's hut. It was because he heard Jake's 
 voice cursing on the other side of it. Then he heard 
 that which made his blood leap to his brain. It was a 
 stifled cry in Nelson's now almost unrecognizable voice. 
 And its piteous appeal aroused in him a blind fury. 
 
 He charged round the building in half a dozen strides. 
 One glance at the scene was sufficient. Poor old Joe 
 Nelson was lying on the ground, his arms thrown out 
 to protect his head, while Jake, his face ablaze, stood 
 over him, kicking him with his cruel field boots, with a 
 force and brutishness that promised to break every bone 
 in the old man's body. 
 
 It all came to him in a flash. 
 
 Then he leapt with a rush at the author of the un- 
 natural scene. The butt of his quirt was uplifted. It 
 swung above his head a full half-circle, then it descended
 
 TRESLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER 163 
 
 with that whistling split of the air that told of the rage 
 and force that impelled it. It took the giant square 
 across the face, laying the flesh open and sending the 
 blood spurting' with its vicious impact. It sent him 
 reeling backward with a howl of pain, like a child at 
 the slash of an admonishing cane. And Jake's hands 
 went up to his wounds at once ; but, even so, his move- 
 ments were not swift enough to protect him from a 
 second slash of the vengeful thong. And Tresler's aim 
 was so swift and sure that the bully fell to the ground 
 like a pole-axed steer. 
 
 And with Jake's fall the tension of Tresler's rage re- 
 laxed. He could have carried the chastisement further 
 with a certain wild delight, but he was no savage, only 
 a real, human man, outraged and infuriated by the 
 savagery of another. His one thought was for his poor 
 old friend, and he dropped on his knees, and bent over 
 the still, shrunken form in a painful anxiety. He called 
 to him, and put one hand under the gray old head and 
 raised it up. And as he did so the poor fellow's eyes 
 opened. Joe murmured something unintelligible, and 
 Tresler was about to speak again, when a movement be- 
 hind him changed his purpose and brought him to his 
 feet with a leap. 
 
 Nor was he any too soon. And his rage lit anew as 
 he saw Jake struggling to rise. In an instant he was 
 standing over him threateningly. 
 
 " Move, and I'll paralyze you ! " he cried hoarsely. 
 
 And Jake made no further effort. He lay back with 
 a growl of impotent rage, while his hands moved un- 
 easily, mopping his blood-stained features.
 
 164 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Now it was, for the first time, Tresler became aware 
 that the men from the bunkhouse had come upon the 
 scene. 
 
 The sight of all those faces gazing in wide-eyed as- 
 tonishment at the fallen Jake brought home to him 
 something of the enormity of his offense, and it be- 
 hooved him to get Joe out of further harm's way. He 
 stooped, and gathering the little choreman tenderly 
 into his powerful arms, lifted him on to his shoulders 
 and strode away to the bunkhouse, followed by his 
 silent, wondering comrades. 
 
 He deposited Joe upon his own bed, and the men 
 crowded round. And questions and answers came in a 
 wild volley about him. 
 
 It was Arizona who spoke least and rendered most 
 assistance. Together he and Tresler undressed the 
 patient and treated him to a rough surgical examina- 
 tion. They soon found that no limbs were broken, but 
 of his ribs they were less certain. He was severely 
 bruised about the head, and this latter no doubt ac- 
 counted for his unconsciousness. Cold water, harshly 
 applied, though with kind intent, was the necessary re- 
 storative, and after a while the twisted face took on a 
 hue of life and the eyes opened. Then Tresler turned 
 to the men about him. 
 
 " Boys," he said gravely, " I want you all to remem- 
 ber that this is purely my affair. Joe's and mine and 
 Jake's. I shall settle it in my own way. For the pres- 
 ent we have our work to do." 
 
 There was a low murmur, and Arizona raised a pair of 
 fierce eyes to his face. He was going to speak to
 
 TRESLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER 165 
 
 voice a common thought ; but Tresler understood and 
 cut him short. 
 
 " Go easy, Arizona. We're good friends all. You 
 wouldn't like me to interfere in a quarrel of yours." 
 
 " That's so but " 
 
 " Never mind the ' buts.' " And Tresler's keen, honest 
 eyes looked squarely into the seared face of the wild 
 cowpuncher. 
 
 For a moment the men stood around looking on with 
 lowering faces, eyeing the prostrate man furtively. 
 But Tresler's attitude gave them no encouragement, 
 and even Arizona felt the influence of his strong per- 
 sonality. Suddenly, as though with a struggle, the 
 cowboy swung round on his fellows and his high-pitched 
 tones filled the silent room. 
 
 " Come right on, boys. Guess he's right. We'll 
 git." And he moved toward the door. 
 
 And the men, after the slightest possible hesitation, 
 passed out in his wake. Tresler waited until the door 
 had closed behind the last of them, then he turned to 
 the injured man. 
 
 " Feeling better, Joe ? " 
 
 " Feelin' better ? Why, yes, I guess. 
 
 Joe's answer came readily, but in a weak voice. 
 
 " No bones broken ? " 
 
 " Bones ? Don't seem." 
 
 Tresler seated himself on the bunk and looked into 
 the gray face. At last he rose and prepared to go, but 
 Joe detained him with a look. 
 
 " Say they're gone ? " he murmured. 
 
 The other sat down again. " Yes."
 
 166 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Good." Joe sighed and reclosed his eyes ; but it 
 was only for a second. He opened them again and 
 went on. " Say, you won't tell her Miss Dianny. 
 Don't you tell her. Pore little soul, she'll wep them 
 pretty eyes o' hers out, sure. Y' see, I know her. 
 Y' see, I did git drunk yesterday. I knew I'd git it. 
 So it don't signify. Don't tell her." 
 
 " She'll be sure to hear of it." 
 
 " Say, Tresler," Joe went on, ignoring the other's ob- 
 jection. " Go easy ; jest say nothin'. Kind o' fergit 
 this thing fer the time. Ther's other work fer you. 
 I'd a heap sooner I'd bin killed than you git roped into 
 this racket. It's Miss Dianny you're to look to, not 
 me ; an' now, mebbe, they'll run you off'n the ranch," 
 
 Tresler shook his head decidedly. " Don't be afraid ; 
 they can't get rid of me, Joe," he said. 
 
 " Ah ! Wai, I guess meanwhile you'd best git off to 
 work. I'll pull round after a while. You see, you must 
 go dead easy wi' Jake, 'cos o' her. Mind it's her 
 on'y her. You sed it last night. Mebbe this thing's 
 goin' to make trouble. Trouble fer you ; an' trouble fer 
 you means trouble fer her." 
 
 " I'm going." 
 
 Tresler saw the force of the other's argument. He 
 must give them no further hold to turn on him. Yes, 
 he saw how bad his position would be in the future. 
 He wondered what would come of that morning's work ; 
 and, in spite of his confident assurance to Joe, he dreaded 
 now lest there should be any means for them to get rid 
 of him. He moved toward the door. 
 
 " All right, Joe. I'll keep a check on myself in the
 
 TRESLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER 167 
 
 future," he said. " But don't you go and get drunk 
 again or " 
 
 He broke off. Flinging the door open to pass out, 
 he found himself face to face with the object of their 
 solicitude. Diane had been about to knock, and now 
 started back in confusion. She had not expected this. 
 She thought Tresler was with the " breaking " party. 
 The man saw her distress, and the anxiety in her sweet 
 brown eyes. He knew that at that moment all her 
 thought was for Joe. It was the basket on her arm, 
 full of comforts, that told him. And he knew, too, that 
 she must have been a witness to the disgraceful scene 
 by the barn, for how else could she have learned so 
 quickly what had happened ? He put his finger on his 
 lip to silence her, while he closed the bunkhouse door 
 behind him. Then he responded to the inquiry he saw 
 in her eager, troubled face. 
 
 " He is better, Miss Diane. He will soon be all 
 right," he added, keeping his voice low lest it should 
 reach the man inside. " Can I give him anything for 
 you? Any message?" He glanced significantly 
 from her face to the basket on her arm. 
 
 The girl did not answer at once. Her eyes looked 
 seriously up into his face. 
 
 " Thank you," she said at last, a little vaguely. 
 Then she broke out eagerly, and Tresler understood 
 the feeling that prompted her. " I saw the finish of it 
 all," she went on ; " oh, the dreadful finish. Thank 
 God I did not see the rest. When you bore him off on 
 your shoulders I thought he was dead. Then I felt I 
 could not stay away. While I was wondering how to
 
 168 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 get down here without attracting attention, Sheriff Fyles 
 arrived, and father and he went at once into the office. 
 I knew Jake would be out of the way. I waited until 
 Anton had disappeared with the sheriff's horse, then 1 
 hurried down here. Can I see him now ? I have a 
 few little luxuries here which I scrambled together for 
 him." 
 
 The girl's appeal was irresistible. Nor was Tresler 
 the man to attempt the impossible. Besides, she knew 
 all, so there was nothing to hide from her. He glanced 
 over at the barn. The men had already saddled. He 
 saw Arizona leading two horses, and recognized Lady 
 Jezebel as one of them. The wild cowpuncher had 
 saddled his mare for him, and the friendliness of the act 
 pleased him. 
 
 " Yes, go in and see him," he said. " The place 
 hasn't been cleaned up yet, but perhaps you won't mind 
 that. You will come like an angel of comfort to poor 
 Joe. Poor old fellow ! He thinks only of )'ou. You 
 are his one care in life. It will be like a ray of sun- 
 shine in his clouded life to be waited on by you. I 
 need hardly give you the caution, but don't stay long." 
 
 Diane nodded, and Tresler stepped aside. The girl's 
 hand was on the door-latch ; she hesitated a moment 
 and finally faced about 
 
 " Fyles is here now," she said significantly. " The 
 raiders ; do you think you ought " 
 
 " I am going to see him." 
 
 " Yes." The girl nodded. She would have said 
 more, but her companion cut her short. 
 
 " I must go," he said. Then he pointed over at the
 
 TRESLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER 169 
 
 mare. "You see?" he added. "She is in view of 
 Jake's window." 
 
 The next moment they had parted. 
 
 The Lady Jezebel was very fretful when Tresler 
 mounted her. She treated him to a mild display of 
 bad temper, and then danced boisterously oft" down the 
 trail, and her progress was as much made on her hind 
 legs as on all fours. Once round the bend her rider 
 tried to bring her to a halt, but no persuasion could 
 reduce her to the necessary docility. She fretted on 
 until, exasperated, the man jabbed her sharply with the 
 spurs. Then the mischief started. Her head went 
 down and her back humped, and she settled to a bat- 
 tle royal. 
 
 It was in the midst of this that another horseman 
 rounded the bend and rode leisurely on to the field of 
 battle. He drew up and watched the conflict with in- 
 terest, his own great raw-boned bay taking quite as 
 enthusiastic an interest in what was going forward as 
 its rider. 
 
 The mare fought like a demon ; but Tresler had 
 learned too much for her, and sat on his saddle as 
 though glued to it ; and the newcomer's interest be- 
 came blended with admiration for the exhibition of 
 horsemanship he was witnessing. As suddenly as she 
 had begun the lady desisted. It was in a pause for 
 breath that she raised her infuriated head and espied 
 the intruder. Doubtless, realizing the futility of her ef- 
 forts, and at the same time not wishing one of the op- 
 posite sex to witness her defeat, she preferred to dis- 
 guise her anger and gave the impression of a quiet,
 
 i;o THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 frivolous gambol, for she whinnied softly and stared, 
 with ears pricked and head erect, in a haughty look of 
 inquiry at the more cumbersome figure of the bay. 
 
 And her rider, too, had time to look around. His 
 glance at once fell upon the stranger, and he knew that 
 it was the man he wanted to talk to. 
 
 The two men met with little formality. 
 
 " Sheriff Fyles ? " Tresler said as he came up. 
 
 There was something wonderfully picturesque yet 
 businesslike about this prairie sleuth. This man was 
 the first of his kind he had seen, and he studied him 
 with interest. The thought of Sheriff Fyles had come 
 so suddenly into his mind, and so recently, that he had 
 no time to form any imaginative picture of him. Had 
 he done so he must inevitably have been disappointed 
 with the reality, for Fyles was neither becoming nor 
 even imposing. He was rather short and decidedly 
 burly, and his face had an innocent caste about it, a 
 farmer-like mould of russet-tanned features that was 
 extremely healthy-looking, but in no way remarkable 
 for any appearance of great intelligence. 
 
 But this was a case of the fallibility of appearances. 
 Fyles was remarkable both for great intelligence and 
 extreme shrewdness. Not only that, he was a man of 
 catlike activity. His bulk was the result of a super- 
 abundance of muscle, and not of superfluous tissue. 
 His bucolic spread of features was useful to him in that 
 it detracted from the cold, keen, compelling eyes which 
 looked out from beneath his shaggy eyebrows ; and, 
 too, the full cheeks and fat neck, helping to hide the 
 determined jaws, which had a knack of closing his
 
 TRESLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER 171 
 
 rather full lips into a thin, straight line. Nature never 
 intended a man of his mould to occupy the position 
 that Fyles held in his country's peace regime. He was 
 one of her happy mistakes. 
 
 And in that first survey Tresler realized something 
 of the personality which form and features were so lu- 
 dicrously struggling to conceal. 
 
 " Yes." The officer let his eyes move slowly over 
 this stranger. Then, without the least expression of 
 cordiality he spoke the thought in his mind. " That's 
 a good nag remarkably good. You handle her tol- 
 erably. Didn't get your name? " 
 
 " Tresler John Tresler." 
 
 " Yes. New hereabouts ? " 
 
 The broad-shouldered man had an aggravatingly 
 official manner. Tresler replied with a nod. 
 
 " Ah ! Remittance man ? " 
 
 At this the other laughed outright. He saw it was 
 useless to display any anger. 
 
 " Wrong," he said. " Learning the business of 
 ranching. Going to start on my own account later 
 on." 
 
 " Ah ! Younger son ? " 
 
 " Not even a younger son ! " The two horses were 
 now moving leisurely on toward the ford. " Suppose 
 we quit questions and answers that serve no particular 
 purpose, sheriff. I have been waiting to see you." 
 
 " So I figured," observed the other, imperturbably, 
 " or you wouldn't have answered my questions so 
 amiably. Well?" 
 
 The sheriff permitted himself a sort of wintry smile,
 
 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 while his watchful eyes wandered interestedly over the 
 surrounding bush. 
 
 "There are things doing about this country," Tresler 
 began a little lamely. "You've possibly heard?" 
 
 " Things are generally doing in a cattle country 
 where brands are easily changed and there is no official 
 to inquire who has changed them." 
 
 Fyles glanced admiringly down at Lady Jezebel's 
 beautiful clean legs. 
 
 " This Red Mask?" Tresler asked. 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " You've heard the story of his latest escapade ? 
 The murder of Manson Orr ? " 
 
 " From Mr. Marbolt and others. In telling me, the 
 blind man offered five thousand dollars' reward for the 
 capture of the man." 
 
 " That's better than I hoped for," replied Tresler, 
 musingly. " You see," he went on, " the blind man's 
 something cantankerous. He's lost cattle himself, but 
 when some of the boys offered to hunt Red Mask down, 
 he treated them with scant courtesy in fact, threat- 
 ened to discharge any man who left the ranch on that 
 quest." 
 
 " I found him amiable." 
 
 " You would." Tresler paused. This man was diffi- 
 cult to talk to, and he wanted to say so much. Sud- 
 denly he turned and faced him, and, to his chagrin, dis- 
 covered that the other was still intent on the mare he 
 was riding. His eyes were fixed on the lady's shoulder, 
 where the indistinct marks of the brand were still visible. 
 " You see, sergeant," he went on, ignoring the other's
 
 TRKSLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER 173 
 
 abstraction, " I have a story to tell you, which, in your 
 official capacity, you may find interesting. In the light 
 of recent events, 1, at any rate, find it interesting. It 
 has set me thinking a heap." 
 
 " Go ahead," said the officer, without even so much 
 as raising his eyes. Tresler followed the direction of 
 his gaze, but could see nothing more interesting in his 
 mare's fore-quarters than their perfect shape. How- 
 ever, there was no alternative but to proceed with his 
 narrative. And he told the sheriff of the visit of the 
 night-riders which he had witnessed on the night of his 
 arrival at the ranch. In spite of the other's apparent 
 abstraction, he told the story carefully and faithfully, 
 and his closing remarks were well pointed and displaved 
 a close analysis. He told him of the previous visits of 
 these night-riders, and the results following upon the 1 
 circulation of the story by each individual who chanced 
 to witness them. He told of Joe Nelson's warning to 
 him, and how his earnestness had, at length, persuaded 
 him to keep quiet. He felt no scruples in thus chang- 
 ing the responsibility of Diane's warning. Nothing 
 would have induced him to drag her name into the 
 matter. 
 
 " You see, sheriff," he said in conclusion, " I think I 
 did right to keep this matter to myself until such tinv 
 as I could tell it to you. It has all happened several 
 times before, and, therefore, will no doubt happen 
 again. What do you think ? " 
 
 " She's the finest thing I've ever set two eyes on. 
 There's only one like her eh?" Tresler had given 
 audible expression to his impatience, and the other
 
 174 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 abruptly withdrew his gaze from the mare. " It's in- 
 teresting decidedly." 
 
 " Did Marbolt tell you of the previous visits of these 
 raiders? He knows of them." 
 
 " He told me more than I had time to listen to." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " He told me of the revolutionary spirit pervading 
 the ranch." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Tresler saw the trap the wily police officer had laid 
 for him and refused the bait. Evidently the blind man 
 had told his version of that morning's doings, and the 
 sheriff wished to learn the men's side of it. Probably 
 his, Tresler's. This calm, cold man seemed to depend 
 in no way upon verbal answers for the information he 
 desired, for he went on without any appearance of ex- 
 pecting a reply. 
 
 " There's one thing you've made plain to me. You 
 suspect collusion between these raiders and some one 
 on the ranch." 
 
 " Yes. I meant you to understand that." 
 
 " Whom do you suspect ? And your reasons ? " 
 
 The two questions rapped out one after the other like 
 lightning. 
 
 " My suspicions rest nowhere, because I can find no 
 reason." 
 
 They had drawn rein at the ford. Fyles now looked 
 keenly into Tresler's face, and his glance was full of 
 meaning. 
 
 "I'm glad I've had this talk with you, Tresler. You 
 have a keen faculty for observation, and a wise caution.
 
 TRESLER INVOLVES HIMSELF FURTHER 175 
 
 When you have reason to suspect any one, and wish to 
 tell me of it, you can communicate with me at any hour 
 of the day or night. I kno\v this ranch well by repute. 
 So well, in fact, that I came out here to find you. You 
 see, you also were known to me through mutual ac- 
 quaintances in Forks. Now your excellent caution will 
 tell you that it would be bad policy for you to com- 
 municate openly with me. Good. Your equally ex- 
 cellent observation will have called your attention to 
 this river. I have a posse stationed further down 
 stream, for certain reasons which I will keep to myself. 
 It is a hidden posse, but it will always be there. Now, 
 to a man of your natural cleverness, I do not think you 
 will have any difficulty in finding a means of floating" a 
 message down to me. But do not send an urgent mes- 
 sage unless the urgency is positive. Any message I re- 
 ceive in that way I shall act upon at once. I have 
 learned a great deal to-day, Tresler, so much indeed 
 that I even think you may need to use this river before 
 long. All I ask of you is to be circumspect that's the 
 word, circumspect." 
 
 The sheriff edged his horse away so that he could ob- 
 tain a good view of Lady Jezebel. And he gazed at 
 her with so much intentness that Tresler felt he must 
 call attention to it. 
 
 " She is a beauty," he suggested. 
 
 And Fyles answered with a sharp question. " Is she 
 yours ? " 
 
 " No. Only to use." 
 
 " Belongs to the ranch?" 
 
 " Jake told me she is a mare the blind man bought
 
 176 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 from a half-breed outfit passing through the country. 
 He sets great store by her, but they couldn't tame her 
 into reliability. That's three years ago. By her mouth 
 I should say she was rising seven." 
 
 " That's so. She'd be risingseven. She's a dandy." 
 
 " You seem to know her." 
 
 But Fyles made no answer. He swung his horse 
 round, and, raising his hand in a half-military salute in 
 token of " good-bye," called over his shoulder as his 
 bay took to the water 
 
 " Don't forget the river." 
 
 Tresler looked after him for some moments, then his 
 mare suddenly reared and plunged into the water to 
 follow. He understood at once that fresh trouble was 
 brewing in her ill-balanced equine mind, and took her 
 sharply to task. She couldn't buck in the water ; and, 
 finally, after another prolonged battle, she dashed out 
 of it and on to the bank again. But in the scrimmage 
 she had managed to get the side-bar of the bit between 
 her teeth, and, as she landed, she stretched out her lean 
 neck, and with a snort of ill-temper, set off headlong 
 down the trail.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THK intractability of the Lady Jezebel was beyond 
 all bounds. Her vagaries were legion. After his ex- 
 periences with her, Tresler might have been forgiven 
 the vanity of believing, in spite of her sex, that he had 
 fathomed her every mood. But she was forever 
 springing unpleasant surprises, and her present one was 
 of a more alarming nature than anything that had gone 
 before. One of her tricks, bolting, was not so very 
 serious, but now she proved herself a " blind bolter." 
 And among horsemen there is only one thing to do with 
 a blind bolter shoot it. A horse of this description 
 seems to be imbued with but one idea a furious desire 
 to go, to run anywhere, to run into anything lying in 
 its course, to run on until its strength is spent, or its 
 career is suddenly terminated by a forcible full stop. 
 
 At the bend of the trail the mare took blindly to the 
 bush. Chance guided her on to a cattle-path which ctit 
 through to the pinewoods beyond. It was but a mat- 
 ter of moments before her rider saw the dark shadow 
 of the woodlands come at him with a rush, and he 
 plunged headlong into the gray twilight of their virgin 
 depths. He had just time to crouch down in the sad- 
 dle, with his face buried in the tangle of the creature's 
 flying mane, when the drooping boughs, laden with
 
 178 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 their sad foliage, swept his back. He knew there were 
 only two courses open to him. Either he must sit tight 
 and chance his luck till the mad frolic was spent, or 
 throw himself headlong from the saddle at the first 
 likely spot. A more experienced horseman would, no 
 doubt, have chosen the latter course without a second 
 thought. But he preferred to stay with the mare. He 
 was loth to admit defeat. She had never bested him 
 yet, and a sort of petty vanity refused to allow him to 
 acknowledge her triumph now. They might come to 
 an opening, he told himself, a stretch of open country. 
 The mare might tire of the forest gloom and turn 
 prairie-ward. These things suggested themselves 
 merely as an excuse for his foolhardiness in remaining 
 in the saddle, not that he had any hope of their fulfil- 
 ment. 
 
 And so it was. Nothing moved the animal out of 
 her course, and it seemed almost as though a miracle 
 were in operation. For, in all that labyrinth of tree- 
 trunks, a sheer road constantly opened out before them. 
 Once, and once only, disaster was within an ace of him. 
 She brushed a mighty black-barked giant with her 
 shoulders. Tresler's knee struck it with such painful 
 force that his foot was wrenched from the stirrup and 
 dragged back so that the rowel of his spur was plunged, 
 with terrific force, into the creature's flank. She re- 
 sponded to the blow with a sideways leap, and it was 
 only by sheer physical strength her rider retained his 
 seat. Time and again the reaching boughs swept him 
 and tore at his clothes, frequently lacerating the flesh 
 beneath with the force of their impact.
 
 A WILD RIDE 179 
 
 These thing's, however, were only minor troubles as 
 he raced down the grim forest aisles. His thoughts 
 centred themselves on the main chance the chance 
 that embraced li:e and death. An ill-fate might, at 
 any moment, plunge horse and rider headlong into 
 one of those silent sentries. It would mean anything. 
 Broken limbs at the best. But Providence ever watches 
 over the reckless horseman, and, in spite of a certain 
 native caution in most things, Tresler certainly was 
 that. He knew no fear of this jade of a mare, and deep 
 down in his heart there was a wild feeling of joy, a 
 whole-hearted delight in the very madness of the race. 
 
 And the animal herself, untamed, unchecked, froth- 
 ing at her bit, her sides a-lather with foam, her barrel 
 tuckered like that of a finely trained race-horse, rushed 
 blindly on. The forest echoed and reechoed with the 
 dull thud of her hoofs as they pounded the thick under- 
 lay of rotting" cones. And her rider breathed hard as 
 he lay with his head beside the reeking neck, and 
 watched for the coming of the end. 
 
 Suddenly, in the midst of the gray, he saw a flash of 
 sunlight. It was like a beacon light to a storm-driven 
 mariner. It was only a gleam of sunshine and was 
 gone almost at once, but it told him that he was fast 
 coming on the river. The final shoals, maybe, where 
 wreck alone awaited him. Just for an instant his pur- 
 pose wavered. There was still time to drop to the 
 ground. He would have to chance the mare's flying 
 heels. And it might save him. 
 
 But the idea was driven from his head almost before 
 he realized it ; the mare swerved like a skidding vehicle.
 
 i So THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 He clung desperately to her mane, one arm was even 
 round her neck in a forcible embrace. The struggle 
 lasted only a few seconds. Then, as he recovered his 
 equilibrium, he saw that she had turned into what was 
 undoubtedly a well-defined, but long-disused, forest 
 trail. The way was clear of obstruction. The trees 
 had parted, opening up a wide avenue, and above him 
 shone the perfect azure of the summer sky. 
 
 He was amazed. Where could such a trail lead? 
 His answer came immediately. Away ahead of him, 
 towering above the abundant foliage, he saw the dis- 
 tant shimmer of snowy peaks, and nearer so near as 
 to make him marvel aloud the forest-clad, broken 
 lands of the foot-hills. Immediate danger was past and 
 he had time to think. At all cost he must endeavor to 
 stop the racing beast under him. So he began a vicious 
 sawing at her mouth. His efforts only drove her faster, 
 and caused her to throw her head higher and higher, 
 until her crown was within six inches of his face. 
 
 The futility of his purpose was almost ludicrous. He 
 desisted. And the Lady Jezebel lowered her head with 
 an angry snort and rushed on harder than ever. And 
 now the race continued without relaxing. Once or 
 twice Tresler thought he detected other hoof-marks on 
 the trail, but his impression of them was very uncertain. 
 One thing surely struck him, however : since entering 
 this relic of the old Indian days, a decided change had 
 come over the mare. She was no longer running 
 blind ; more, it seemed to him that she displayed that 
 inexpressible familiarity with her surroundings which a 
 true horseman can always detect, yet never describe.
 
 A WILD RIDE 181 
 
 This knowledge led him to the hope of the passing of 
 her temper. 
 
 But hi:5 hope \vas an optimistic mistake. The sweat 
 pouring from neck, shoulders, and Hanks, she still lifted 
 her mud-brown barrel to her mighty stride, with all the 
 vim and lightness of the start. He felt that, jade that 
 she was, she ran because she loved it ; ran with a de- 
 light that acted as a safety-valve for her villainous 
 temper. She would run herself into amiability and 
 then stop, but not before. And he knew her temper 
 so well that he saw many miles lying ahead of him. 
 
 The rift was gradually widening, and the forest on 
 either side thinned. The trees were wider c,r,d more 
 scattered, and the broken hilltops, which but now had 
 been well ahead, were frowning right over him, and he 
 knew, by the steady, gradual rise of the country, that 
 he would soon be well within the maze of forest, crag, 
 and ravine, which composed the mountain toot-hills. 
 
 At last the forest broke and the ragged land leapt 
 into full view with magical abruptness. It was as 
 though Nature had grown her forest within the con- 
 fines of a field embraced by an imaginary hedge. 
 There were no outskirts, no dwindling away. It ended 
 in one clean-cut line. And beyond lay the rampart 
 hills, fringed and patched with disheveled bluff, split 
 by rifts and yawning chasms. And ever they rose 
 higher and higher as the distance gained, and, though 
 summer was not yet at its height, it was gaunt-looking, 
 torn, chaotic, a land of desolation. 
 
 The mare held straight on. The change of scene had 
 no effect on her ; the trail still lay before her, and she
 
 1 82 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 seemed satisfied with it. Tresler looked for the river. 
 He knew it was somewhere near by. He gazed aw r ay 
 to the right, and his conjecture was proved at once. 
 There it lay, the Mosquito River, narrowed and foam- 
 ing, a torrent with high, clean-cut banks. He followed 
 its course ahead and saw that the banks lost themselves 
 in the shadow between towering, almost barren hills, 
 which promised the narrow mouth of a valley beyond. 
 
 And as he watched these things, a feeling of uneasiness 
 came over him. The split between the hills looked so 
 narrow. He looked for the trail. It seemed to make 
 straight for the opening. As the ground flew under 
 him, he turned once more to the river and followed its 
 course with his eyes, and suddenly he was thrilled with 
 his first real feeling of apprehension. The river on the 
 right, and the hill on the left of him were converging. 
 Nor could he avoid that meeting-point. 
 
 He was borne on by the bolting mare. There was 
 not the smallest hope of restraining her. Whatever 
 lay before him, he must face it, and face it with every 
 faculty alert and ready. His mouth parched, and he 
 licked his lips. He was facing a danger now that was 
 uncertain, and the uncertainty of it strung him with a 
 nervous apprehension. 
 
 Bluff succeeded bluff in rapid succession. The hill 
 on the left had become a sheer cliff, and the general 
 aspect of the country, that of a tremendous gorge. 
 The trail rose slightly and wound its tortuous way in 
 such an aggravating manner that it was impossible for 
 him to see what lay before him. 
 
 At one point he came to a fork where another trail,
 
 A WILD RIDE 183 
 
 less defined, branched away to the right. For a mo- 
 ment he dreaded lest the mare should adopt the new 
 way. He knew what lay out there the river. How- 
 ever, his fears were quickly allayed. The Lady Jezebel 
 had no intention of leaving the road she was on. 
 
 They passed the fork, and he sighed his relief. But 
 his relief was short-lived. Without a sign or warning 
 the trail he was on died out, and his course lay over a 
 narrow level flat sparsely dotted with small, stubbly 
 bush. Now he knew that the mare had been true to 
 herself. She had passed the real trail by, and was 
 running headlong to 
 
 He dared think no more. He knew the crisis was at 
 hand. He had reached the narrowest point of the 
 opening between the two hills, and there stretched the 
 river right across his path less than fifty yards ahead. 
 It took no central course as might have been expected 
 through the gorge. It met the left-hand cliff diago- 
 nally, and, further on, adopted its sheer side for its left 
 bank. He saw the clearly defined cutting, sharp, pre- 
 cise, before it reached the cliff, and he was riding straight 
 for it ! 
 
 In that first moment of realization he passed through 
 every sensation of fear ; but no time was given him for 
 thought. Fifty yards ! What was that to the raking 
 stride of his untamed mare ? It would be gone in a 
 few seconds. Action was the only thing to serve him, 
 and such action as instinct prompted him to was utterly 
 unavailing. With a mighty heave of his body, and 
 with all the strength of his sinewy arms, he tried to pull 
 the creature on to her haunches. As well try to stem
 
 1 84 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 the tide ahead of him. She threw up her head until it 
 nearly struck him in the face ; she pawed the air with 
 her great front legs ; then, as he released her, she rushed 
 forward again with a vicious snort. 
 
 His case seemed utterly hopeless. He sat down 
 tight in the saddle, leaning slightly forward. He held 
 his reins low, keeping a steady strain upon them. 
 There was a vague, wild thought in his mind. He 
 knew the river had narrowed. Was it a possible jump? 
 He feared the very worst, but clung desperately to the 
 hope. He would lift the creature to it when it came, 
 anyhow. Would she see it? Would she, freakish 
 brute that she was, realize her own danger, and, for 
 once in her desperate life, do one sensible act ? He did 
 not expect it. He dared not hope for that. He only 
 wondered. 
 
 He could see the full extent of the chasm now. And 
 he thrilled as he realized that it was broader than he 
 had supposed. Worse, the far bank was lower, and a 
 fringe of bush hung at its very edge. His jaws tight- 
 ened as he came up. He could hear the roar of the 
 torrent below, and, to his strained fancy, it seemed to 
 come up from the very bowels of the earth. 
 
 A few more strides. He timed his effort with a judg- 
 ment inspired by the knowledge that his life depended 
 on it it, and the mare. 
 
 The chasm now came at him with a rush. Suddenly 
 he leaned over and let out a wild " halloo ! " in the 
 creature's ears. At the same time he lifted her and 
 plungefl his spurs hard into her flanks. The effect was 
 instantaneous, electrical. Just for an instant it seemed
 
 A WILD RIDE 185 
 
 to him that some unseen power had suddenly shot her 
 from under him. He had a sensation of being left be- 
 hind, while yet he was rushing through the air with the 
 saddle flying from under him. Then all seemed still, 
 and he was gliding, the lower part of his body strug- 
 gling to outstrip the rest of him. He had an impres- 
 sion of some great depth below him, though he knew 
 he saw nothing, heard nothing. There came a great 
 jolt. He lurched on to the animal's neck, recovered 
 himself, and, the next instant, the old desperate gallop 
 was going on as before. 
 
 He looked back and shivered as he saw the gaping 
 rift behind him. The jump had been terrific, and, as 
 he realized the marvel of the feat, he leaned over and 
 patted the mare's reeking shoulder. She had performed 
 an act after her own wild heart. 
 
 And Tresler laughed aloud at the thought He could 
 afford to laugh now, for he saw the end of his journey 
 coming. He had landed on the trail he had lost, in all 
 probability the continuation across the river of the 
 branch road he had missed on the other side, and this 
 was heading directly for the hill before him. More, he 
 could see it winding its way up the hill. Even the 
 Lady Jezebel, he thought, would find that ascent more 
 than to her liking. 
 
 And he was right. She faced it and breasted it like 
 the lion-hearted animal she was, but the loose sandy 
 surface, and the abruptness of the incline, first brought 
 her to a series of plunges, and finally to her knees and 
 a dead halt. 
 
 And Tresler was out of the saddle in an instant, and
 
 1 86 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 drew the reins over her head, while she, now quite sub- 
 dued, struggled to her feet. She was utterly blown, 
 and her master was little better. They stood together 
 on that hillside and rested. 
 
 Now the man had a full view of the river below, and 
 he realized the jump that the mare had made. And, 
 further down, he beheld an astonishing sight. At a 
 point where the course of the river narrowed, a rough 
 bridge of pine-logs had been thrown across it. He 
 stood for some minutes contemplating the scene and 
 busy with his thoughts, which at last culminated in a 
 question uttered aloud 
 
 " Where on earth does it lead to?" 
 
 And he turned and surveyed the point, where, higher 
 up, the trail vanished round the hillside above him. 
 The question voiced a natural curiosity which he 
 promptly proceeded to satisfy. Linking his arm 
 through the reins, he led the mare up the hill. 
 
 It was a laborious climb. Even free of her burden 
 the horse had difficulty in keeping her feet. The 
 sandy surface was deep, and poured away at every 
 step like the dry sand on the seashore. And as they 
 labored up, Tresler's wonder increased at every step. 
 Why had such a trail been made, and where where 
 could it lead to ? 
 
 At length the vanishing-point was reached, and 
 horse and rider rounded the bend. And immediately 
 the reason was made plain. But even the reason sank 
 into insignificance before the splendor of the scene 
 which presented itself. 
 
 He was standing on a sort of shelf cut out of the
 
 A WILD RIDE 187 
 
 hillside. It was not more than fifty yards long, and 
 some twenty wide, but it stood high over a wide, far- 
 reaching valley, scooped out amongst the great foot- 
 hills which reared their crests about him on every side. 
 Far as the eye could see was spread out the bright, 
 early summer green of the grass-land hollow. For the 
 most part the surrounding hills were precipitate, and 
 rose sheer from the bed of the valley, but here and 
 there a friendly landslide had made the place accessi- 
 ble. Just where he stood, and all along the shelf, the 
 face of the hill formed a precipice, both above and 
 below, and the only approach to it was the way he 
 had come round from the other side of the hill. 
 
 And the object, the reason, of that hidden road. A 
 small hut crushed into the side of the sheer cliff. 
 A dugout of logs, and thatch, and mud plaster. A 
 hut with one fronting door, and a parchment window ; 
 a hut such as might have belonged to some old- 
 time trapper, who had found it necessary to set his 
 home somewhere secure from the attacks of maraud- 
 ing Indians. 
 
 And what a strategic position it was ! One ap- 
 proach to be barred and barricaded ; one laborious 
 road which the besieged could sweep with his rifle-fire, 
 and beat back almost any horde of Indians in the coun- 
 try. He led his horse on toward the hut. The door 
 was closed, and the parchment of the window hid the 
 interior. 
 
 The outside appearance showed good repair. He 
 examined it critically. He walked round its three 
 sides, and, as he came to the far side of it, and thought-
 
 1 88 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 fully took in the method of its construction, he suddenly 
 became aware of another example of the old trapper's 
 cunning. The cliff that rose sheer up for another two 
 or three hundred feet slightly sloped backward at the 
 extremity of the shelf, and here had been cut a rude 
 sort of staircase in the gray limestone of which it was 
 composed. There were the steps, dangerous enough, 
 and dizzying to look at, rising up, up, to the summit 
 above. He ventured to the brink where they began, 
 but instantly drew back Below was a sheer drop of 
 perhaps five hundred feet. 
 
 Turning his eyes upward, his fancy conjured up a 
 picture of the poor wretch, hunted and besieged by the 
 howling Indians, starving perhaps, creeping at dead of 
 night from the little fort he had held so long and so 
 valiantly against such overwhelming odds, and, in des- 
 peration, availing himself of his one and only possible 
 escape. Step by step, he followed him, in imagination, 
 up the awful cliff, clinging for dear life with fingers 
 worn and lacerated by the grinding stone. Weary 
 and exhausted, he seemed to see him draw near the 
 top. Then a slip, one slip of his tired feet, and no 
 hold upon the limestone with his hands would have 
 power to save him. Down, down 
 
 He turned back to the hut with a sick feeling in his 
 stomach. Securing his mare to an iron ring, which 
 he found driven firmly into one of the logs, he pro- 
 ceeded to investigate further. The door was held by 
 a common latch, and yielded at once when he raised it. 
 It opened inward, and he waited after throwing it open. 
 He had a strange feeling of trespass in thus intruding
 
 A WILD RIDE 189 
 
 upon what might prove to be the home of some fur- 
 hunter. 
 
 No sound followed the opening of the door. He 
 waited listening ; then at last he stepped forward and 
 announced himself with a sharp " Hello ! " 
 
 His only answer was the echo of his greeting. 
 Without more ado he stepped in. For a moment the 
 sharpness of the contrast of light made it impossible 
 for him to see anything ; but presently he became used 
 to the twilight of the interior, and looked about him 
 curiously. It was his first acquaintance with a dugout, 
 nor was he impressed with the comfort it displayed. 
 The place was dirty, unkempt, and his dream of the 
 picturesque, old-time trapper died out entirely. He 
 beheld walls bare of all decoration, simply a rough 
 plastering of mud over the lateral logs ; a frowsy cup- 
 board, made out of a huge packing-case, containing odd 
 articles for housekeeping purposes. There were the 
 fragments of two chairs lying in a heap beside a dis- 
 membered table, which stood only by the aid of two 
 legs and the centre post which supported the pitch of 
 the roof. A rough trestle-bed occupied the far end of 
 the hut, and in shape and make it reminded him of his 
 own bed in the bunkhouse. But there the resemblance 
 ended, for the palliasse was of brown sacking, and a 
 pair of dull-red blankets were tumbled in a heap upon 
 its foot. One more blanket of similar hue was lying 
 upon the floor ; but this was only a torn fragment that 
 had possibly served as a carpet, or, to judge by other 
 fragments lying about, had been used to patch shirts, 
 or even the well-worn bedclothes.
 
 I 9 o THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 It was a squalid hovel, and reeked of the earth out 
 of which it was dug. Beyond the bedding, the red 
 blankets, and the few plates and pots in the packing- 
 case cupboard, there was not a sign of the owner, and 
 Tresler found himself wondering as to what manner of 
 man it was who could have endured such meanness. 
 It did not occur to him that probably the very trapper 
 he had thought of had left his eyrie in peace and taken 
 his belongings with him, leaving behind him only those 
 things which were worthless. 
 
 A few minutes satisfied his curiosity. Probably his 
 ride, and a natural desire to return to the ranch as 
 quickly as possible, had dulled the keenness of his 
 faculties of observation. Certain it is that, squalid as 
 the place was, there was an air of recent habitation 
 about it that he missed. He took it for a deserted 
 shack merely, and gave it no second thought 
 
 He passed out into the daylight with an air of relief ; 
 he had seen quite enough. The La'dy Jezebel wel- 
 comed him with an agitated snort ; she too seemed 
 anxious to get away. He led her down the shelving 
 trail again. The descent was as laborious as the ascent 
 had been, and much more dangerous. But it was ac- 
 complished at last, and at the foot of the hill he mounted 
 the now docile animal, who cantered off as amiably as 
 though she had never done anything wrong in her life. 
 
 And as he rode away his thoughts reverted to the 
 incidents of that morning ; he went again over the 
 scenes in which he had taken part, the scenes he had 
 witnessed. He thought of his brief battle with Jake, of 
 Diane and Joe, of his interview with Fyles. All these
 
 A WILD RIDE 191 
 
 things were of such vital import to him that he had no 
 thought for anything else ; even the log bridge span- 
 ning the river could not draw from him any kind of in- 
 terest. Had his mind been less occupied, he might 
 have paused to ask himself a question about the things 
 he had just seen. He might even have wondered how 
 the logs of that dugout had been hauled to the shelf 
 on which it stood. Certain it was that they must have 
 been carried there, for there was not a single tree upon 
 the hillside, only a low bush. And the bridge ; surely 
 it was the work of many hands. And why was it there 
 on a disused trail,? 
 
 But he had no thought for such questions just then. 
 He bustled the mare and hurried on.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 A WEEK passed before Tresler was again brought 
 into contact with Jake. When he got back from his 
 ride into the foot-hills, the " broncho-busting " carnival 
 was in full swing ; but he was fated to have no share in 
 it. Jacob Smith was waiting for him with a message 
 from Julian Marbolt ; his orders were peremptory. He 
 was to leave at once for Whitewater, to make prepara- 
 tions for the reception of the young horses now being 
 broken for the troops. The rancher made his meaning 
 quite plain. And Tresler was quick to understand 
 that this was simply to get him out of the way until 
 such time as Jake's temper had cooled and the danger 
 of a further rupture was averted. 
 
 He received his instructions without comment. It 
 was rough on his mare, but as the Lady Jezebel was 
 fond of giving hard knocks, she must not mind if she 
 received a. similar treatment in return. And so he 
 went, much to the disquiet of Joe Nelson, and with a 
 characteristic admonition from Arizona. That individ- 
 ual had just finished thrashing a bull-headed young 
 broncho with a quirt, because he wouldn't move from 
 the spot where he had been saddled, when Tresler 
 came up. The lean man was breathing hard as he 
 rested, and he panted his farewell huskily.
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 193 
 
 " Kep y'r gun good an' handy," he said. " Et's 
 mighty good company, if et don't git gassin' wi'out 
 you ast it a question." 
 
 In this case, however, there was no need for the ad- 
 vice. The journey was a peaceful relief after the storms 
 of Mosquito Bend. Tresler transacted his business, the 
 horses arrived, were delivered to the authorities, and he 
 witnessed the military methods of dealing with their re- 
 mounts, which was a wonderful example of patience 
 and moderation. Then he set out for the ranch again, 
 in company with Raw Harris and Lew Cawley the 
 two men who had brought the band into the town. 
 
 His return to Mosquito Bend was very different from 
 his first coming. It seemed to him as if a lifetime had 
 passed since he had been ridiculed about his riding- 
 breeches by all who met him. So much had happened 
 since then. Now he was admittedly a full-blown 
 prairie man, with much to learn, perhaps, but garbed 
 like the other cowpunchers with him, in moleskin and 
 buckskin, Mexican spurs, and slouch hat ; his gun-belt 
 slantwise on his hips, and his leather chapps creaking 
 as he rode. He was no longer " the guy with the 
 pants " he had been when he first entered the land of 
 cattle, and somehow he felt glad at the metamorphosis. 
 It brought him nearer to the land, which, with all its 
 roughness, he felt to be the true life for him. 
 
 It was evening ; the sun had not yet set, but it was 
 dipping low over the western hills, casting long shadows 
 from behind the gorgeous-colored heat clouds. Its 
 dying lustre shone like a fire of molten matter through 
 the tree-tops, and lit the forest-crowned hills, until the
 
 194 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 densest foliage appeared like the most delicate fret- 
 \vork of Nature's own cutting. And in the shadow 
 cast by the hilly background there nestled the ranch, 
 overlooking its vast, wide-spreading pastures of suc- 
 culent grass. 
 
 Yes, Tresler was glad to be back to it all, no matter 
 what the future might hold for him. He had missed 
 his companions ; he had missed Arizona, with his fierce, 
 untamed spirit ; he had missed Joe, with his quaint face 
 and staunch heart ; but more than all, he had longed to 
 get back to Diane, looking forward to the greeting she 
 would extend him as only a lover can. But there was 
 something more in his longing than that. Every day 
 he had been away he had fretted and chafed at the 
 thought of what might be happening to her. Joe was 
 there to send him word, but even this was insufficient. 
 There had been times when he felt that he could not 
 stay to finish the work put upon him ; there had been 
 times when his patience utterly gave way before the 
 nervous tension of his feelings, and he had been ready 
 to saddle his mare and offer her a race against time 
 back to the girl he loved. 
 
 His feelings were stirred to their very depths as he 
 came up the trail from the ford. He had no words for 
 either of his companions, nor did they seem inclined 
 for speech. They passed the corrals in silence and 
 reached the bunkhouse, where several of their com- 
 rades greeted them with a nod or a casual " Hello ! " 
 They might have just returned from a day's work on 
 the range for all the interest displayed at their coming. 
 But, then, effusiveness is no part of the cowboy's man-
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 195 
 
 ner. There is rarely a " good-bye " on the prairie, un- 
 less it is when a comrade " hits the one-way trail." 
 Even then it is more often a quiet " s'long," without 
 any demonstrativeness, but which may mean far more 
 than a flood of tears. 
 
 Jake was at his door when Tresler rode over to re- 
 port. He was still bearing the marks of the quirt on 
 his face, and the author of them beheld his handiwork 
 with some qualms of regret. However, there was none 
 of this in his manner as he made his report. And, 
 much to his astonishment, Jake displayed a cold 
 civility. He surpassed himself. Not a sneer or sar- 
 casm passed his lips. The report done, he went on to 
 the barn and stabled his mare for the night. Then he 
 passed on toward his quarters. 
 
 Before he reached his destination, however, he was 
 joined by Nelson. The little man had evidently been 
 waiting for him. 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 There was no greeting. Tresler put his monosyllabic 
 question at once. And the choreman responded with- 
 out hesitation. 
 
 " She's bin astin' fer you three times. When wus 
 you gittin' around agin ? I guessed I didn't know fer 
 sure. She wus kind o' worrited, I reckon." He paused, 
 and his twisted face turned in the direction of the fore- 
 man's hut. " She wus weepin' last night," he went on. 
 Then he paused again, and his shrewd eyes came 
 back to Tresler 's face. " She's bin weepin' to-day," 
 he said, with a peculiar look of expectation in his 
 manner.
 
 196 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 "What's the trouble?" The question came short 
 and sharp. 
 
 " Mebbe she's lonesome." 
 
 " That's not it ; you've got other reasons." 
 
 Joe looked away again. "Jake's bin around some. 
 But I guess she's lonesome too. She's ast fer you." 
 The little man's tone was full of obstinacy. 
 
 Tresler understood his drift. If Joe had his way 
 he'd march Diane and him off to the nearest parson 
 with no more delay than was required to saddle two 
 horses. 
 
 " I'm going to see her to-night," Tresler replied 
 quietly. Then, as he saw Jake appear again in the door- 
 way, he said, " You'd better pass on now. Maybe I'll 
 see you afterward." 
 
 And Joe moved off without another word. Jake 
 had seen them together, but he was unsuspicious. He 
 was thinking of the scars on his face, and of some- 
 thing else that had nothing to do with their meeting. 
 And his thoughts made him smile unpleasantly. 
 
 If Tresler's first greeting had been indifferent, his 
 reception, as he came over to the bunkhouse now, was 
 far from being so. Talk flowed freely, inquiries hailed 
 him on every side ; jests passed, sometimes coarse, 
 sometimes subtle, but always cordial. All the men on 
 the ranch had a fair good-will for him. " Tenderfoot " 
 he might be, but they approved his grit, and with 
 frontiersmen grit is all that matters. 
 
 After supper he separated himself from his compan- 
 ions under pretext of cleaning his saddlery. He hauled 
 a bucket of water, and went down to the lower corrals
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 197 
 
 and disposed his accoutrements for the operation, but 
 he did no work until he saw Arizona approaching. 
 That unkempt personage loafed up in a sort of man- 
 ner that plainly said he didn't care if he came or not. 
 But Tresler knew this was only his manner. The 
 cleaning of the saddle now proceeded with assiduity, 
 and Arizona sat himself down on a fallen log and spat 
 tobacco-juice around him. At last he settled himself, 
 nursing one knee in his clasped hands, and spoke with 
 that air of absolute conviction which always character- 
 ized him. 
 
 " Say, Jake's grittin' his teeth tight," he said. Then, 
 as an afterthought, " But he ain't showin' 'em." 
 
 Tresler looked up and studied the cadaverous face 
 before him. 
 
 " You mean about " 
 
 " Wai, I wus jest figgerin' on how you wus standin'. 
 Seems likely you're standin' lookin' east wi' a feller due 
 west who's got the drop on yer ; which, to my reck- 
 onin', ain't as safe as handin' trac's to a lodge o' 
 Cheyenne neches on the war-path." 
 
 " You think that Jake's quietly getting the drop on 
 me?" 
 
 " Wai, I allow ef I wus Jake I'd be gettin' a'mighty 
 busy that way. An' I kind o' calc'late that's wot he's 
 doin'." 
 
 Tresler smiled and returned to his work. " And what 
 form do you think his ' drop ' will take ? " he asked, 
 without looking up. 
 
 " I ain't gifted wi' imagination. Y' ain't never sure 
 which way a blind mule's likely ter kick. Jake's in the
 
 198 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 natur' of a blind mule. What I sez is, watch him. 
 Don't look east when he's west. Say," he went on, in 
 a tone of disgust, " you Noo Yorkers make me sick. 
 Ther' ain't nothin' ter hittin' a feller an' makin' him 
 sore. It on'y gives him time to git mad. A gun's 
 handy an' sudden. On'y you need a goodish bore ef 
 you're goin' ter perf'rate the hide of a guy like Jake. 
 Pshaw ! " he finished up witheringly, " you fellers ain't 
 got shut o' last century." 
 
 " Maybe we haven't," Tresler retorted, with a good- 
 humored laugh ; " but your enterprise has carried you 
 so far ahead of time that you've overlapped. I tell 
 you, man, you're back in the savage times. You're 
 groping in the prehistoric periods Jurassic, Eocene, or 
 some such." 
 
 " Guess I ain't familiar wi' Jurassics an' Eocenes," 
 Arizona replied gravely. " Mebbe that was before my 
 time ; but ef you're speakin' o' them fellers as clumped 
 each other over the head wi' stone clubs, I 'lows they 
 had more savee than a Noo Yorker, ef they wus kind 
 o' primitive in the'r habits." 
 
 Tresler accepted the argument in the spirit in which 
 it was put forward. It was no use getting angry. 
 Arizona was peculiar, but he had reason to consider 
 him, in his own parlance, " a decent citizen." He went 
 on with his work steadily while the cowpuncher grunted 
 out his impatience. Then at last, as though it were 
 forced from him, the latter jerked out a more modified 
 opinion of the civilized American. It seemed as though 
 Tresler's very silence had drawn it from him. 
 
 " Wai," he said grumblingly, " mebbe you Noo
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 199 
 
 Yorkers has points mebbe, I sez." Then he dismissed 
 the subject with an impatient shrug of his drooping 
 shoulders, and went off at a fresh angle. " Say, I wus 
 kind o' wonderin' some 'bout that flea-bitten shadder, 
 Joe Nelson. He's amazin' queer stayin' 'round here. 
 He's foxin' some, too. Y' ain't never sure when you're 
 like to strike them chewed-up features o' his after night- 
 fall. Y' see he's kind o' quit drinkin' leastways, he's 
 frekent sober. Mebbe he can't sleep easy. Ther's 
 suthin' worritin' his head, sure. He 'pears ter me 
 desp'rate restless kind o' like an old hoss wi' the bush- 
 ticks. Et don't fit noways wi' the Joe Nelson I oncet 
 knew. Mebbe it's religion. Ther' ain't nuthin' like 
 religion fer makin' things oneasy in your head. Joe 
 allus had a strain o' religion in him." 
 
 The Southerner gazed gloomily at the saddle on the 
 fence, while he munched his tobacco in thoughtful 
 silence. 
 
 " I don't think Joe's got religion," said Tresler, with 
 a smile. " He's certainly worried, and with reason. 
 Jake's got his knife into him. No, I think Joe's got a 
 definite object in staying around here, and I shouldn't 
 wonder if he's clever enough to attain it, whatever it is." 
 
 "That sounds more like Joe," assented the other, 
 cheering up at the suggestion. " Still, Joe allus had a 
 strain o' religion in him," he persisted. " I see him 
 drop a man in his tracks oncet, an' cry like a noo-born 
 babby 'cos ther' wa'n't a chu'ch book in Lone Brake 
 Settlement, an' he'd forgot his prayers, an' had ter let 
 the feller lie around fer the coyotes, instead o' buryin' 
 him decent. That's a whiles ago. Guess Lone Brake's
 
 200 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 changed some. They do say ther's a Bible ther' now. 
 Kind o' roped safe to the desk in the meetin'-house, so 
 the boys can't git foolin' wi' it. Yup," he went on, 
 with an abstracted look in his expressive eyes, " relig- 
 ion's a mighty powerful thing when it gits around. 
 Most like the fever. I kind o' got touched wi' it down 
 Texas way on the Mexican border. Guess et wer' t* 
 do wi' a lady I favored at the time ; but that ain't here 
 nor there. Guess most o' the religion comes along o' 
 the wimmin folk. 'Longside o' wimmin men is muck." 
 
 Tresler nodded his appreciation of the sentiment. 
 
 " Gettin' religion's most like goin' on the bust. Hits 
 yer sudden, an' yer don't git off'n it easy. The signs is 
 ailus the same. You kind o' worry when folks gits 
 blasphemin', an' you don't feel like takin' a hand to 
 help 'em out. You hate winnin' at ' draw,' an' talks 
 easy when a feller holds ' fours ' too frekent. An' your 
 liquor turns on your stummick. They're all signs," he 
 added expansively. " When a feller gits like that he'd 
 best git right off to the meetin'-house. That's how I 
 tho't" 
 
 " And you went?" 
 
 "That's so. Say, an* it ain't easy. I 'lows my 
 nerve's pretty right fer most things, but when you git 
 monkeyin' wi' religion it's kind o' different. 'Sides, 
 ther's allus fellers ter choke you off. Nassy Wilkes, 
 the s'loon-keeper, he'd had religion bad oncet, tho' I 
 'lows he'd fergot most o't sence he'd been in the s'loon 
 biz ; he kind o' skeered me some. Sed they used a 
 deal o' water, an' mostly got ducking greenhorns in it 
 Wai, I put ha'f a dozen slugs o' whisky down my neck
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 201 
 
 which he sed would prevent me gittin' cold, seein 1 
 water wa'n't in my line an' hit the trail fer the 
 meetin'." 
 
 "What denomination?" asked Tresler, curiously. 
 "What religion?" he added, for the man's better un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 " Wai, I don't rightly knows," Arizona went on 
 grav r ely. " I kind o' fancy the boys called 'em ' dip- 
 pers ' ; but I guess this yarn don't call fer no argy- 
 ment," he added, with a suspicion of his volcanic 
 temper rising at the frequent interruptions. Then, as 
 the other kept silence, he continued in his earnest 
 way, " Guess that meetin'-house wus mostly empty. 
 Ther' wus one feller ther' a'ready when I come. He 
 wus play in' toons on a kind o' 'cordian he worked wi' 
 his feet " 
 
 " Harmonium," suggested Tresler, diffidently. 
 
 " That's it. I could 'a' wep' as I looked at that feller, 
 he wus that noble. He'd long ha'r greased reg'lar, an' 
 wore swaller-tails. Guess he wus workin' that concer- 
 tina-thing like mad ; an' he jest looked right up at the 
 ceilin' as if he wer' crazy fer some feller to come 'long 
 an' stop him 'fore he bust up the whole shootin' match." 
 
 " Looked inspired," Tresler suggested. 
 
 " Mebbe that's wot. Still, I wus glad I come. Then 
 the folks come along, an' the deac'n ; an' the feller quit. 
 Guess he wus plumb scart o' that deac'n, tho' I 'lows 
 he wus a harmless-lookin' feller 'nough. I see him 
 clear sheer out o' range on sight, which made me 
 think he wus a mean-sperrited cuss anyway. 
 
 "Yes, I guess I wus glad I'd come ; I felt that easy
 
 202 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 an' wholesome. Say, the meetin's dead gut stuff. 
 Yes, sir dead gut. I felt I'd never handle a gun 
 again ; I couldn't 'a' blasphemed 'longside a babby ef 
 you'd give me ten dollars to try. An' I guess ther' 
 wa'n't no dirty Greaser as I couldn't ha' loved like a 
 brother, I wus that soothed, an' peaceful, an' saft feelin'. 
 I jest took a chaw o' plug, an' sat back an' watched 
 them folks lookin' so noble as they come along in the'r 
 funeral kids an' white chokers. Then the deac'n got 
 good an' goin', an' I got right on to the ' A-mens,' 
 fetchin' 'em that easy I wished I'd never done nothin' 
 else all my life. I set ther' feelin' real happy." 
 
 Arizona paused, and his wild eyes softened as his 
 thoughts went back to those few happy moments of his 
 chequered career. Then he heaved a deep sigh of re- 
 gret and went on 
 
 " But it wa'n't to last. No, sir, religion ain't fer the 
 likes o' me. Ye can't play the devil an' mix wi' angels. 
 They're bound to out you. Et's on'y natteral. Guess 
 I'd bin chawin' some, an' ther' wa'n't no spit boxes. 
 That's wher' the trouble come. Ther' wus a raw- 
 boned cuss wi' his missis settin' on the bench front o' 
 me, an' I guess her silk fixin's got mussed up wi' 
 t'bacca juice someways. I see her look down on the 
 floor, then she kind o' gathered her skirts aroun' her 
 an' got wipin* wi' her han'k'chief. Then she looks 
 aroun' at me, an', me feelin' friendly, I kind o' smiled 
 at her, not knowin' she wus riled. Then she got 
 whisperin' to her wall-eyed galoot of a man, an* he 
 turns aroun' smart, an' he sez, wi' a scowl, sez he, 
 4 The meetin'-house ain't no place fer chawin' hunks o'
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 203 
 
 plug, mister ; wher' wus you dragged from ? ' Ther' 
 \vus a nasty glint to his eye. But ef he wus goin' to 
 ferget we wus in the meetin'-house I meant showin' 
 him I wa'n't. So I answers him perlite. Sez I, wi' a 
 smile, ' Sir,' sez I, ' I take it we ain't from the same hog 
 trough.' I see he took it mean, but as a feller got up 
 from behind an' shouts ' Silence,' I guessed things 
 would pass over. But that buzzard-headed mule wus 
 cantankerous. He beckons the other feller over an' 
 tells him I wus chawin', an' the other feller sez to me : 
 ' You can't chaw here, mussin' up the lady's fixin's.' 
 
 " Wai, bein' on'y human, I got riled, but, not wishin' 
 to raise a racket, I spat my chew out. I don't know 
 how it come, but, I guess, bein' riled, I jest didn't take 
 notice wher' I dumped it, till, kind o' sudden-like, I found 
 I wus inspectin' the vitals o' that side-show-freak's gun. 
 Sez he, in a nasty tone, which kind o' interrupted the 
 deac'n's best langwidge, an' made folks ferget to fetch 
 
 the ' A-men ' right, ' You dog-gone son of a hog ' 
 
 But I didn't wait fer no more. I sees then what's 
 amiss. My chaw had located itself on the lady's ankle 
 which I 'lows wus shapely which she'd left showin' 
 in gatherin' her fixin's aroun' her. I see that, an' I see 
 his stovepipe hat under the seat. I jest grabbed that 
 hat sudden, an' 'fore he'd had time to drop his hammer 
 I'd mushed it down on his head so he couldn't see. 
 Then I ups, wi' the drop on him, an' I sez : ' Come 
 right along an' we'll settle like honest cit'zens.' An' 
 \vi' that I backed out o' the meetin'. Wai, I guess he 
 \vus clear grit. We settled. I 'lows he wus a dandy 
 at the bizness end o' a gun, an' I walked lame fer a
 
 204 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 month after. But ther' was a onattached widdy in that 
 town when we'd done." 
 
 " You killed him ? " Tresler asked. 
 
 " Wai, I didn't wait to ast no details. Guess I got 
 busy fergittin' religion right off. Mebbe ther's a proper 
 time fer ev'rything, an' I don't figger it's reas'nable 
 argyfyin' even wi' a deac'n when his swaller-tail 
 pocket's bustin' wi' shootin' materials. No, sir, guess 
 religion ain't no use fer me." 
 
 Arizona heaved a deep sigh of regret. Tresler 
 gathered up his saddle and bridle. Once or twice he 
 had been ready to explode with laughter during his 
 companion's story, but the man's evident sincerity and 
 earnestness had held him quiet ; had made him realize 
 that the story was in the nature of a confidence, and 
 was told in no spirit of levity. And, somehow, now, at 
 the end of it, he .'felt sorry for this wandering outcast, 
 with no future and only a disreputable past. He knew 
 there was far more real good in him than bad, and yet 
 there seemed no possible chance for him. He would 
 go on as he was ; he would " punch " cattle so long as 
 he could find employment. And when chance, or 
 some other matter, should plunge him on his beam ends, 
 he would take to what most cowboys in those days 
 took to when they fell upon evil days cattle-stealing. 
 And, probably, end his days dancing at the end of a 
 lariat, suspended from the bough of some stout old tree. 
 
 As he moved to go, Arizona rose abruptly from his 
 seat, and stayed him with a gesture. 
 
 " Guess I got side-tracked yarnin'. I wanted to tell 
 you a few things that's bin doin' sence you've bin away."
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 205 
 
 Tresler stood. 
 
 " Say," the other went on at once, " ther's suthin' 
 doin' thick 'tween Jake an' blind hulks. Savee ? I 
 heerd Jake an' Miss Dianny gassin' at the barn one 
 day. She wus ther' gittin' her bit of a shoe fixed by 
 Jacob him allus fixin' her shoes for her when they 
 needs it an' Jake come along and made her go right 
 in an' look at the new driver he wus breakin' fer her. 
 Guess they didn't see me, I wus up in the loft puttin' 
 hay down. When they come in I wus standin' takin' a. 
 chaw, an' Jake's voice hit me squar' in the lug, an' I 
 didn't try not to hear what he said. An 1 I soon 
 felt good that I'd held still. Sez he, ' You best 
 come out wi' me an' learn to drive her. She's dead 
 easy.' An' Miss Dianny sez, sez she, ' I'll drive her 
 when she's thoroughly broken ! ' An' he sez, ' You 
 mean you ain't goin' out wi' me ? ' An' she answers 
 short-like, ' No.' Then sez he, mighty riled, ' You 
 shan't go out with that mare by yourself to meet no 
 Treslers,' sez he. ' I'll promise you that. See ? Your 
 father's on to your racket, I've seen to that. He 
 knows you an' him's bin sparkin', an' he's real mad. 
 That's by the way,' he sez. ' What I want to tell you's 
 this. You're goin' to marry me, sure. See? An' 
 your father's goin' to make you.' An' Miss Dianny 
 jest laffed right out at him. But her laff wa'n't easy. 
 An' sez she, wi' mock 'nuff to make a man feel as mean 
 as rank sow-belly, ' Father will never let me marry, 
 and you know it.' An' Jake stands quiet a minnit. 
 Then I guess his voice jest rasped right up to me 
 through that hay-hole. ' I'm goin' to make him,' sez
 
 206 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 he, vicious-like. ' A tidy ranch, this, eh ? Wai, I tell 
 you his money an' his stock an' his land won't help 
 him a cent's worth ef he don't give you to me. I ken 
 make him lick my boots if I so choose. See ? ' Ther' 
 wa'n't another word spoke. An' I heerd 'em move 
 clear. Then I dropped, an' pushin' my head down 
 through the hay-hole, I see that Jake's goin' out by 
 hisself. Miss Dianny had gone out clear ahead, an' 
 wus talkin' to Jacob." 
 
 " What do you think it means ? " asked Tresler, 
 quietly. 
 
 And in a moment the other shot off into one of his 
 volcanic surprises. 
 
 " I ain't calc'latin' the'r meanin'. Say, Tresler." 
 The man paused, and his great rolling eyes glanced 
 furtively from right to left. Then he came close up 
 and spoke in a harsh whisper. " It's got to be. He 
 ain't fit to live. This is wot I wus thinkin'. I'll git 
 
 right up to his shack, an' I'll call him every son-of-a 
 
 I ken think of. See? He'll git riled, an' wal, I owe 
 her a debt o' grat'tood, an' I can't never pay it no other 
 ways, so I'll jest see my slug finds his carkis right, 
 'fore he does me in." 
 
 Arizona stepped back with an air of triumph. He 
 could see no flaw in his plan. It was splendid, subtle. 
 
 It was the one and only way to settle all the problems 
 centering round the foreman. Thus he would pay off 
 a whole shoal of debts, and rid Diane of Jake forever. 
 And he felt positively injured when Tresler shook his 
 head. 
 
 " You would pay her ill if you did that," he said
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 207 
 
 gravely. "Jake was probably only trying to frighten 
 her. Besides, he is her father's foreman. The man he 
 trusts and relies on." 
 
 " You ain't got no savee," Arizona broke out in dis- 
 gust. " Say, he won't need no foreman when Jake's 
 out of the way. You'll marry the gal, an' " 
 
 But he got no further. Tresler interrupted him 
 coldly. 
 
 " That's enough, Arizona. We aren't going to discuss 
 it further. In the meantime, believe me that I am wide 
 awake to my position, and to Miss Marbolt's, and ready 
 to do the best for her in emergency. I must get on 
 now, for I have several things to do before I turn in." 
 
 Arizona had no more to say. He relapsed into 
 moody silence, and, as they moved away together, 
 Tresler was thankful for the freakish chance that had 
 made this man come to him with his plan before putting 
 it into execution. It was dark now, and as they reached 
 the bunkhouse they parted. Tresler deposited his 
 saddle at the barn, but he did not return to the bunk- 
 house. He meant to see Diane before he turned in, by 
 hook or by crook. 
 
 He knew that the time had come when he must 
 actively seek to help her. When Jake openly threat- 
 ened her, and she was found weeping, there was 
 certainly need of that help. He was alarmed, seriously 
 alarmed, and yet he hardly knew what it was he feared 
 most. He quite realized the difficulties that confronted 
 him. She had given him no right to interfere in 
 her affairs. More, she would have every reason to 
 resent such interference. But, in spite of this, he held
 
 208 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 to his resolve. It was his love that urged him on, his 
 love that overbore his scruples, his gravest apprehen- 
 sions. He told himself that he had the right which 
 every man has. The right to woo and win for himself 
 the love he covets. It was for Diane to say " yea" or 
 " nay," not her father. There was no comfort she had 
 been accustomed to, or even luxury, that he could not 
 give her. There was no earthly reason why he should 
 not try to win her. He vividly called to mind what 
 Joe had suggested, and Arizona's unfinished sentence 
 rang in his ears, but both suggestions as a basis of 
 hope he set aside with a lover's egotism. What could 
 these men know or understand of such a matter ? 
 
 He had left the barn, and his way took him well out 
 from the ranch yards in the direction of the pinewoods. 
 He remembered his walk on his first night on the ranch, 
 and meant to approach the back of the blind man's 
 house by the same route. 
 
 The calm of the prairie night had settled upon the 
 ranch. The lowing of the cattle was hushed, the dogs 
 were silent ; and the voices of men and the tramp of 
 horses' hoofs were gone. There was only the harsh 
 croaking of the frogs in the Mosquito River and the 
 cry of the prowling coyote to disturb the peace of the 
 summer night. 
 
 And as he walked, he felt for the first time something 
 of the grip which sooner or later the prairie fixes upon 
 those who seriously seek life upon its bosom. Its real 
 fascination begins only when the first stages of appren- 
 ticeship to its methods and habits are passing. The 
 vastness of its world, its silence, its profound suggestion
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 209 
 
 of solitude, which ever remains even where townships 
 and settlements exist, holds for man a fascination which 
 appeals to the primitive senses and drags him back 
 from the claims of civilization to the old, old life. And 
 when that call comes, and the latent savage is roused 
 from the depths of subjection, is it wonder that men 
 yield to what, after all, is only the true human instinct 
 the right of the individual to defend itself from all 
 attacks of foes ? No ; and so Tresler argued as he 
 thought of the men who were his comrades. 
 
 Under the influence of his new feelings it seemed to 
 him that life was so small a thing, on which folks of 
 civilization set much too high a value. The ready 
 appeal to the gun, which seemed to be one of the first 
 principles of the frontiersman's life, was already begin- 
 ning to lose its repugnance for him. After all, where 
 no arbitration could be enforced, men still had a right 
 to defend self and property. 
 
 His thoughts wandered on through a maze of argu- 
 ment which convinced him notwithstanding he told 
 himself that it was all wrong. He told himself weakly 
 that his thoughts were the result of the demoralizing 
 influence of lawless associates, but, in spite of this, he 
 felt that there was, in reality, something in them of a 
 deeper, more abiding nature. 
 
 He had made the woodland fringe, and was working 
 his way back toward the house. The darkness was 
 profound here. The dense, sad-foliaged pines dropped 
 their ponderous boughs low about him as he passed, 
 shielding him from all possible view from the ranch. 
 And, even over the underlay of brittle cones, his moc-
 
 210 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 casined feet bore him along in a silent, ghostly manner. 
 It was the first time in his life he had been forced to 
 steal upon anybody's house like a thief in the night ; 
 but he felt that his object was more than sufficient 
 justification. 
 
 Now he looked keenly for any sign of lights among 
 the ranch buildings. The bunkhouse was in darkness, 
 but Jake's house was still lit up. However, this did 
 not bother him much. He knew that the foreman was 
 in the habit of keeping his lamp burning, even after 
 retiring. Perhaps he read at night. The idea amused 
 him, and he wondered what style of literature might 
 appeal to a man of Jake's condition of mind. But even 
 as he watched, the light went out, and he felt more 
 satisfied. 
 
 He reached a point on the edge of the forest opposite 
 the barn. Then something brought him up with a 
 start. Some unusual sound had caught his ear. It 
 was the murmur of voices in the distance. Immediately 
 his mind went back to his first night on the ranch, and 
 he remembered Red Mask and his attendant horseman. 
 Now he listened, peering hard into the darkness in the 
 direction of the house, at the point whence the sound 
 was proceeding. Whoever were talking they seemed 
 to be standing still. The sound grew no louder, nor did 
 it die away. His curiosity drew him on ; and. with 
 cautious steps, he crept fonvard. 
 
 He tried to estimate how far the speakers were from 
 the house. It seemed to him that they were somewhere 
 in the neighborhood of the rancher's private stable. 
 But he could not be altogether sure.
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE NIGHT-RIDERS 211 
 
 Now, as he drew nearer, the voices became louder. 
 He could distinctly hear the rise and fall of their tones, 
 but still they were unrecognizable. Again he paused, 
 this time for caution's sake only. He estimated that 
 he was within twenty-five yards of the stable. It would 
 not be safe to go further. The steady murmur that 
 reached him was tantalizing. Under ordinary circum- 
 stances he would have risked discovery and gone on, 
 but he could not jeopardize his present object. 
 
 He stretched himself under the shelter of a low bush, 
 ami, strangely enough, recognized it as the one he had 
 lain under on that memorable first night. This realiza- 
 tion brought him a grim foreboding ; he knew what he 
 expected, he knew what was coming. And his fore- 
 boding was fulfilled within a few seconds of taking up 
 his position. 
 
 Suddenly he heard a door close, and the voices 
 ceased speaking. He waited almost breathlessly for 
 the next move. It came. The crackling of pine cones 
 under shod hoofs sounded sharply to his straining ears. 
 It was a repetition of what had happened before. Two 
 horsemen were approaching from the direction of the 
 house. It was inevitable that his hand should go to 
 his gun, and, as he realized his own action, he under- 
 stood how surely the prairie instincts had claimed him. 
 But he withdrew it quickly and waited, for he had no 
 intention of taking action. It might be Red Mask. It 
 probably was. But he had no intention of upsetting 
 his present plans by any blind, precipitate attack upon 
 the desperado. Besides, if Red Mask and Jake were 
 one, then the shooting of him, in cold blood, in the
 
 212 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 vicinity of the ranch, would, in the eyes of the police, 
 be murder. No story of his would convince a jury 
 that the foreman of Mosquito Bend was a cattle-rustler. 
 
 A moment later the horses dimly outlined themselves. 
 There were two of them, as before. But he could not 
 see well, the woods seemed darker than before ; and, 
 besides, they did not pass so near to him. They went 
 on like ghostly, silent shadows, only the scrunch of the 
 cones underfoot told of their solidity. 
 
 He waited until the sound died out, then he rose 
 quietly and pursued his way. But what he had just 
 witnessed plunged his thoughts into a moody channel. 
 The night-riders were abroad again, riding unchecked 
 upon their desperate way, over the trail of murder and 
 robbery they cut for themselves wherever they went. 
 He wondered with dread who was to be victim to-night. 
 He remembered Manson Orr and shuddered. He had 
 a bitter feeling that he had acted wrongly in letting 
 them pass unchallenged in spite of what reason and a 
 cool judgment told him. His duty had been to investi- 
 gate, but he also thought of a sad-faced girl, friendless 
 and alone, weeping her heart out in the midst of her 
 own home. And somehow his duty faded out before 
 the second picture. And, as though to further encour- 
 age him, the memory of Joe Nelson's \vords came to 
 him suddenly, and continued to haunt him persistently. 
 
 "You'll jest round that gal up into your own corrals, 
 an' set your own brand on her quick, eh ? "
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM 
 
 WHEN the horsemen had passed out of hearing, 
 Tresler still exerted the utmost caution. He had yet to 
 pass the blind man's room, and he knew that that indi- 
 vidual's hearing was something bordering on the mar- 
 velous, and, he argued, he must still be up, or, at least, 
 awake. So he moved on with the lightest tread, with 
 every sense alert; watchful alike for every unusual 
 sound or movement. At the stable he paused and 
 gently tried the door. It was fast. He put his ear to 
 it and listened, and was forced to be content with the 
 rattle of the collar chains, and the sound of the heavy- 
 breathing animals within. He would have liked to 
 investigate further, for the noise of the shutting door, 
 he knew, had come from the stable, but it behooved 
 him to refrain. It would be worse than useless to rouse 
 the man, Anton, who slept over the stable. And there 
 was no other means of ascertaining what had been 
 going on. 
 
 He crept on ; and now the shadowy outline of the 
 house itself shut him off from the ranch. He cleared 
 the danger zone of the rancher's bedroom and reached 
 the kitchen, where he met with a first disappointment. 
 He was relieved and delighted to find that a light was 
 still burning there ; but his joy was dashed almost im- 
 mediately by finding that the linen blind was down, and
 
 214 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 not a crack showed by which he could get a view of the 
 room. He dared not go to the door until he had ascer- 
 tained who was within, so he stood for a moment un- 
 certain what to do. Then he suddenly remembered 
 that the kitchen had another window on the far side of 
 the lean-to. It would mean passing out into the open 
 again ; still, the darkness was such that the risk was 
 reduced to a minimum. 
 
 With no further hesitation he hurried round. His 
 only care now was to tread quietly, and even this 
 seemed unnecessary, for the blind man's room was at 
 the other side of the house, and, if his suspicions were 
 correct, Jake was busy at his nocturnal trade. Fortune 
 favored him. The blind was down, but the lower sash 
 of the window was raised, and he saw that, by pulling 
 the linen on one side, he could obtain a full view of the 
 room. 
 
 He was about to carry out his purpose. His hand 
 was raised and reaching toward the window, when the 
 sound of weeping came to him and checked his action. 
 He stood listening for a second. Then, with a stifled 
 ejaculation, he thrust his hand out further, and caught 
 the edge of the blind. 
 
 He paused for nothing now. He had no scruples. 
 He knew without inquiry who it was that was weeping 
 within ; who else but Diane could it be ? And at the 
 sound of each choking sob, his heart was wrung, and 
 he longed to clasp her in his arms and comfort her. 
 This love of his which had taken its place so suddenly 
 in his life thrilled through his body like a fiery torrent 
 roused to fever heat by the sound of the girl's sobs.
 
 THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM 215 
 
 Drawing the edge of the blind sharply on one side, 
 he peered into the room. His worst fears were reali/cd. 
 Diane was at the far side of the kitchen sitting over the 
 square cook-stove, rocking herself to and fro in an ac- 
 cess of misery, and, in what seemed to him, an attitude 
 of physical suffering. Her pretty head was bowed low 
 upon her hands, and her whole frame was shaken by 
 the sobs she was struggling hard to, but could not, 
 suppress. 
 
 He took all this in at a glance, then his eyes rested 
 upon her arms. The sleeves of her dress had been un- 
 fastened, and were thrown back from her wrists, leav- 
 ing them bare to the elbow. And he saw, to his horror 
 and indignation, that the soft, rounded flesh of her 
 forearm was swollen and bruised. The sight made 
 him clench his teeth, and his blue eyes suddenly hard- 
 ened. He no longer permitted caution to govern his 
 actions. 
 
 " Hist, Diane ! " he whispered hoarsely. And he 
 shook the stiff blind to further draw her attention. 
 "It is I, Tresler," he went on urgently. 
 
 And the girl sprang from her seat instantly and faced 
 the window. She dashed her hand across her eyes 
 and hastily sought to readjust her sleeves. But the 
 pitiful attempt to thus hide her trouble only made the 
 signs more marked. The tears still flowed, in spite of 
 her bravest manner, and no effort of hers was able to 
 keep the sweet lips from quivering. 
 
 She took one step in the direction of the window, 
 but drew up with such a violent start and expression 
 of alarm in her tearful eyes, that Tresler peered all
 
 216 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 round the room for the cause. He saw nothing more 
 startling than a slumbering cat and the fragments of a 
 broken lamp upon the floor, and his eyes went back to 
 her again. Then, as he marked her attitude of atten- 
 tion, he understood. She was listening for the familiar 
 but ominous " tap, tap " of her father's stick. He 
 too listened. Then, as no sound came to his straining 
 ears, he spoke again. 
 
 " I must speak with you, Miss Diane," he whispered. 
 " Open the back door." 
 
 It was only after making his demand that he realized 
 how impossible it must have sounded to the distraught 
 girl. It was the first time, since he had set out to 
 see her, that it occurred to him how one-sided was 
 the proposition. She had no knowledge of his resolve 
 to thrust his aid upon her. He told himself that she 
 could have no possible inkling of his feelings toward 
 her ; and he waited with no little anxiety for her 
 response. 
 
 Nor was that response long in coming. She made 
 another effort to dash the tears from her eyes. Then, 
 half defiantly and half eagerly, she stepped up to the 
 window. 
 
 " Go round to the door, quick ! " she whispered, and 
 moved off again as though she stood in imminent peril 
 as a consequence of her words. 
 
 And Tresler was round at the door and standing in 
 the shadow of the water-barrel before the bolt was 
 slipped back. Now, as the girl raised the latch and 
 silently opened the door, he slid within. He offered 
 no explanation, but simply pointed to the window.
 
 THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM 217 
 
 " We must close that," he said in a low tone. 
 
 And Diane obeyed without demur. There was a 
 quiet unobtrusive force about this man whenever his 
 actions were directed into a definite channel. And 
 Diane found herself complying without the least resent- 
 ment, or even doubt as to the necessity for his orders. 
 Now she came back to him, and raised a pair of trust- 
 ing eyes to his face, and he, looking down into them, 
 thought he had never gazed upon anything so sweetly 
 pathetic ; nor had he ever encountered anything quite 
 so rousing as the implicit trust of her manner toward 
 him. Whatever he had felt for her before, it was as 
 nothing to the delicious sense of protection, the inde- 
 finable wave of responsibility, almost parental, that 
 now swept over him. He felt that, come what might, 
 she was his to cherish, to guard, to pilot through what- 
 ever shoals her life might hold for her. It was the ef- 
 fect of her simple womanly trust appealing to his man- 
 hood, unconsciously for her part, but nevertheless 
 surely. Nor was that feeling only due to his love for 
 her ; it was largely the chivalrous instinct of a brave 
 and strong man for a weak woman that filled his heart 
 at that moment. 
 
 "There is a lot for us to talk about," he said. " A 
 lot that others mustn't hear," he adder! thoughtfully. 
 
 " What others ? " Diane asked anxiously. 
 
 Tresler deemed it best to avoid half measures, nnd 
 answered with prompt decision - 
 
 " Your father, for one." 
 
 " Then," said Diane, steadying at once, " we had 
 better close the door into the passage,"
 
 2i8 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 She suited the action to the word, and returned dry- 
 eyed and calm. 
 
 " My father ? " Her question was sharp ; it was a 
 demand. 
 
 Instead of answering her, Tresler pointed to the 
 broken lamp on the floor. 
 
 " You have had an accident," he said, and his blue 
 eyes compelled hers, and held them. 
 
 " Yes," she said, after the least possible hesitation. 
 Then, not without a slight touch of resentment : " But 
 you have not answered my question." 
 
 " I'll answer that later on. Let me go on in my own 
 way." 
 
 The girl was impressed with the gravity of his man- 
 ner. She felt uneasy too. She felt how impossible it 
 would be to hide anything from this man, who, quiet yet 
 kindly, could exercise so masterful an influence over her. 
 And there was a good deal just now she would have 
 liked to keep from him. While they were talking she 
 drew the sleeves of her dress down over her bruised 
 wrists. Tresler saw the action and called her attention 
 to the blackened flesh she was endeavoring to hide. 
 
 " Another accident ? " he asked. And Diane kept 
 silence. " Two accidents, and tears," he went on, in 
 so gentle a tone that fresh tears slowly welled up into 
 her eyes. " That is quite unlike you, Miss Diane. 
 One moment. Let me look." He reached out to take 
 her hands, but she drew away from him. He shrugged 
 his shoulders. " I wonder if it were an accident ? " he 
 said, his keen eyes searching her face. " It would be 
 strange to bruise both wrists by accident."
 
 THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM 219 
 
 The girl held silent for a while. It was evident that 
 a struggle was going on in her mind. Tresler watched. 
 He saw the indecision. He knew how sorely he was 
 pressing his advantage. Yet he must do it, if he would 
 carry out his purpose. He felt that he was acting the 
 brute, but it was the only way. Every barrier must be 
 swept aside. At last she threw her head back with an 
 impatient movement, and a slight flush of anger 
 tinged her cheeks. 
 
 " And what if it were no accident ? " 
 
 " The bruises or the lamp ? " 
 
 " Both." 
 
 " Then " and Tresler's tone was keenly incisive 
 " it is the work of some cruelly disposed person. You 
 would not wilfully bruise yourself, Diane," he moved 
 nearer to her, and his voice softened wonderfully ; 
 " is there any real reason why you cannot trust me with 
 the truth ? May I not share something of your 
 troubles ? See, I will save you the pain of the telling. 
 If I am right, do not answer me, and I shall understand. 
 Your father has been here, and it was his doing these 
 things." 
 
 The anger had passed out of the girl's face, and her 
 eyes, troubled enough but yielding, looked up into his. 
 
 " But how do you ? " 
 
 " Some one, we both know whom, has maliciously 
 been talking to your father," Tresler went on, without 
 heeding the interruption ; " has been lying to him to 
 prejudice him against me us. And your father has 
 accepted his tales without testing their veracity. Hav- 
 ing done so, he has spoken to you. What has passed
 
 220 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 between you I do not know, nor shall I attempt to 
 fathom. The result is more than sufficient for me. 
 You are unhappy ; you have been unusually unhappy 
 for days. You have wept much, and now you bear 
 signs of violence on your arms." 
 
 Diane averted her gaze, her head was bent, and her 
 eyes were fixed upon the broken lamp. 
 
 "Shall I go on?" Tresler continued. l ' Shall I tell 
 you the whole story? Yes, I had better." 
 
 Diane nodded without looking at him. 
 
 " You know most of it, but you may not have looked 
 at it quite in the same way that I do." His tone was 
 very low, there was a great depth of earnestness in it. 
 " We are all in the midst of a foul conspiracy, and that 
 conspiracy it is for us to break up. Your father is 
 threatened. You know it. And you are threatened 
 with marriage to a rascal that should be wiped off the 
 face of the earth. And this is the work of one man 
 whom we believe to be the scourge of the countryside ; 
 whom we call Red Mask or Jake Harnach, according 
 to when and where we meet him. Now, is this all to 
 go on without protest ? Will you submit ? Is your 
 father to be victimized ? " 
 
 The girl shook her head. 
 
 " No," she said. Then with a sudden burst of pas- 
 sion she went on, only keeping her voice low by the 
 greatest effort. " But what can we do ? I have warned 
 father. He has been told all that you have told me. 
 He laughed. And I grew angry. Then he grew 
 angry, too. And and these things are the result. 
 Oh, he hates you because he believes Jake's stories,
 
 THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM 221 
 
 And he scorns all my accusations against Jake, and 
 treats me worse than some silly, tattling servant girl. 
 How can we do anything?" 
 
 It was that last question that set fire to the powder- 
 train. She had coupled herself with him, and Tresler, 
 seeking only the faintest loophole, jumped at the op- 
 portunity it afforded him. His serious face softened. 
 A slow, gentle smile crept into his eyes, and Diane was 
 held by their caressing gaze. 
 
 " We can do something. We are going to do some- 
 thing," he said. " Not singly, but together ; you 
 and I." 
 
 There was that in his manner that made the girl 
 droop her eyelids. There was a warmth, a light in his 
 eyes he had never permitted her to see before, and her 
 woman's instinct set her heart beating fast, so fast that 
 she trembled and fidgeted nervously. 
 
 " Diane," he went on, reaching out and quietly tak- 
 ing possession of one of her hands, and raising it till 
 the bared wrist displayed the cruel bruise encircling it, 
 "no man has a right to lay a hand upon a woman to 
 give her pain. A woman has a right to look to her 
 men-folk to protect her, and when they fail her, she is 
 indeed in sore straits. This," touching the bruises 
 with his finger, " is the work of your father, the man 
 of all who should protect you. You are sadly alone, 
 so much alone that I cannot see what will be the end 
 of it if it is allowed to go on. Diane, I love you, and 
 I want you, henceforward, to let me be your protector. 
 You will need some whole-hearted support in the 
 future. I can see it. And you can see it too. Say, tell
 
 222 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 me, little girl, fate has pitched us together in a stormy 
 sea, surely it is for me to aid you with all the loving 
 care and help I can bestow. Believe me, I am no idle 
 boaster. I do not even say that my protection will be 
 worth as much as that of our faithful old Joe, but, such 
 as it is, it is yours, whether you take me with it or no, 
 for as long as I live." 
 
 Diane had had time to recover from her first embar- 
 rassment. She knew that she loved this man ; knew 
 that she had done so almost from the very first. He 
 was so different from the men she had known about the 
 ranch. She understood, and acknowledged without 
 shame, the feeling that had prompted her first warning 
 to him. She knew that ever since his coming to the 
 ranch he had hardly ever been out of her thoughts. 
 She had never attempted to deceive herself about him. 
 All she had feared was that she might, by some chance 
 act, betray her feelings to him, and so earn his ever- 
 lasting contempt. She was very simple and single- 
 minded. She had known practically no association 
 with her sex. Her father, who had kept her a willing 
 slave by his side all her life, had seen to that. And so 
 she had been thrown upon her own resources, with the 
 excellent result that she had grown up with a mind un- 
 tainted by any worldly thought. And now, when this 
 man came to her with his version of the old, old story, 
 she knew no coquetry, knew how to exercise no coy- 
 ness or other blandishment. She made no pretense of 
 any sort. She loved him, so what else was there to do 
 but to tell him so ? 
 
 "Joe has been my faithful protector for years, Mr.
 
 THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM 223 
 
 Tresler," she replied, her sweet round face blushing 
 and smiling as she raised it to him, " and I know his 
 value and goodness. But but I'd sooner have you 
 ever so much." 
 
 And of her own accord she raised her other hand to 
 his and placed it trustfully within his only too willing 
 clasp. But this was not sufficient for Tresler. He 
 reached out and took her in his powerful arms and 
 drew her to his breast. And when he released her 
 there were tears again in her eyes, but they were tears 
 of happiness. 
 
 "And now, sweetheart, we must be practical again," 
 he said. "If I am to be your protector, I must not 
 allow my inclination to interfere with duty. Some day, 
 when you are my wife, we shall be able to look back 
 on this time and be proud of our restraint. Just now 
 it is hard. It is a moment for kisses and happy dreams, 
 and these things are denied us " 
 
 He broke off and started as the flutter of the linen 
 blind behind him drew his attention. 
 
 " I thought you shut the window," he said sharply. 
 
 " I thought I did ; perhaps I didn't quite close it." 
 
 Diane was about to move over to investigate, but 
 Tresler restrained her. 
 
 " Wait." 
 
 He went instead. The window was open about six 
 inches. He closed and bolted it, and came back with 
 a smile on his face that in no way deceived the girl. 
 
 "Yes, you left it open," he said. 
 
 And Diane's reply was an unconvinced " Ah ! " 
 
 " Now let us be quick," he went on. " Jake may
 
 224 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 threaten and bully, but he can do nothing to really hurt 
 you. You are safe from him. For, before anything 
 can possibly happen I mean to you I shall be on 
 hand to help you. Joe is our watch-dog, asking his 
 pardon. You can take heart in the thought that you 
 are no longer alone. But developments are imminent, 
 and I want you to watch your father closely, and en- 
 deavor to ascertain Jake's attitude toward him. This 
 is my fear that Jake may put some nefarious scheme, 
 as regards him, into operation ; such schemes as we 
 cannot anticipate. He may even try to silence me, or 
 make me ineffective in some way before such time 
 comes along. He may adopt some way of getting rid 
 of me " 
 
 " What way?" There was a world of fear and anx- 
 iety in Diane's question, and she drew up close to him 
 as though she would protect him with her own frail 
 body. 
 
 Tresler shrugged. " I don't know. But it doesn't 
 matter ; I have my plans arranged. The thing that is 
 of more importance is the fact that the night-riders are 
 abroad again. I saw them on my way here. At the 
 same spot where I saw them before. This time I shall 
 not conceal my knowledge of the fact." 
 
 "You mean you will tell Jake to his face?" 
 
 Diane gave a little gasp, and her beautiful eyes fixed 
 themselves apprehensively upon his. They had in 
 their depths a soft look of admiration, in spite of her 
 anxiety and fear. But Tresler saw nothing of that. He 
 took her question seriously. 
 
 " Certainly ; it is my only means of getting into line
 
 THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM 225 
 
 of battle. By this means I shall make myself the cen- 
 tre of open attack if all our surmises be true. It is 
 getting late and I must go. I want to witness the re- 
 turn of the ruffians." 
 
 A silence fell. The man had said it was time for him 
 to go, but he found it hard to tear himself away. He 
 wanted to say so much to her ; he wanted to ask her 
 so much. Diane, half shyly, came a step nearer to him, 
 and, though her face was smiling bravely, a pucker 
 wrinkled her brows. 
 
 " Mr. Tresler " 
 
 " I was christened ' John.' 
 
 "John, then." The girl blushed faintly as she pro- 
 nounced the name, which, spoken by her, seemed to 
 seal the bond between them. " Is it absolutely neces- 
 sary to tell Jake ? Is it absolutely necessary to put 
 yourself in such peril ? Couldn't you " 
 
 But she got no further. Her lover's arms were about 
 her in an instant. He caught her to him in a great 
 embrace and kissed her pleading, upturned face. 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes, child. It is absolutely necessary. 
 No, you can't go yet," as she struggled feebly to free 
 herself. " I ought to leave you now, yet I can hardly 
 tear myself away. I have heaps to ask you : about 
 yourself, your life, your father. I want to learn all 
 there is in your little head, in your heart, little girl. I 
 want to make our bond of love one of perfect sympathy 
 and understanding of each other ; of trust and confi- 
 dence. It is necessary. We come together here with 
 storm-clouds gathering on our horizon ; with the storm 
 actually breaking. We come together under strange
 
 226 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 and unusual circumstances, and must fight for this love 
 of ours. Ours will be no flower-strewn path. This much 
 I have fully realized ; but it only makes me the more 
 determined to see it through quickly. We have to 
 fight good. We will be early in the field. Now 
 good-night, sweetheart. God bless you. Trust to me. 
 Whatever I do will be done after careful deliberation ; 
 with a view to our common goal. If I am wrong, so 
 much the worse. I will do all that is given me to do. 
 And, last, remember this. Should anything happen to 
 me, you have two friends who will never let Jake marry 
 you. They are Joe and Arizona. Now, good-bye 
 again." 
 
 " But nothing will happen to you Jack ? " 
 
 Every vestige of independence, every atom of the old 
 self-reliance [had gone from the girl's manner. She 
 clung to him, timid, loving, a gentle, weak woman. 
 Her whole soul was in her appeal and the look she be- 
 stowed. 
 
 " I hope not. Courage, little woman. I remember 
 the white dress, the sad, dark little face beneath the 
 straw sun-hat of the girl who knew no fear when two 
 men held thoughts of slaying each other, and were al- 
 most in the act of putting them into execution. You 
 must remember her too." 
 
 " You are right, Jack. I will be brave and help you, 
 if I can. Good-bye." 
 
 They kissed once more, and Tresler hurried from the 
 room with the precipitancy of a man who can only 
 hold to his purpose by an ignominious flight from 
 temptation.
 
 THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM 227 
 
 Outside the door he paused, turned, and closed it 
 carefully after him. And then he listened intently. 
 He had in no way been deceived by the window busi- 
 ness. He knew, as Diane knew, that she had closed 
 it. Some hand from outside had opened it ; and he 
 wondered whose had been the hand, and what the pur- 
 pose. 
 
 When he passed out of the kitchen, the whole aspect 
 of the night had changed. There was not a star visi- 
 ble, and the only light to guide him was that which 
 shone through the window. He waited while Diane 
 bolted the door, then, as nothing appeared to cause 
 him alarm, he moved off. He had to pass round 
 the shed where Joe slept. This was an addition to 
 the kitchen, and quite shut off from the house. He 
 groped his way along the wall of it till he came to the 
 door, which stood open. He was half inclined to go in 
 and rouse the little choreman. He felt that he would 
 like to tell his old friend of his luck, his happiness. 
 Then it flashed through his mind that, seeing the door 
 was open, Joe might still be abroad. So he contented 
 himself with listening for the sound of his breathing. 
 All was still within ; his conjecture was right. Joe had 
 not yet turned in. 
 
 He was puzzled. Where was Joe, and what was he 
 doing at this hour of the night ? 
 
 He moved on slowly now. His thoughts were fully 
 occupied. He was not the man to let a single detail 
 pass without careful analysis. And the matter was 
 curious. Especially in conjunction with the fact of the 
 open window. He attributed no treachery to Joe, but
 
 228 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 the thing wanted explanation. He rounded the build- 
 ing, and as he did so understood the change in the 
 weather. A sharp gust of wind took him, and he felt 
 several drops of rain splash upon his face. A moment 
 later a flash of lightning preceded a distant rumble of 
 thunder. 
 
 He quickened his pace and drew out into the open, 
 leaving the shadow of the woods behind him as he 
 turned toward the ranch buildings. The light in the 
 kitchen had been put out. Evidently Diane had already 
 gone to bed. He stepped out briskly, and a moment 
 later another flash of lightning revealed the window 
 close beside him. He mechanically stretched out a 
 hand and felt along the sill. It was tightly closed 
 all right. A crash of thunder warned him of the quick- 
 rising summer storm that was upon him, and the rain 
 was coming down with that ominous solidity which 
 portends a real, if brief, deluge. He started at a run. 
 A drenching at that hour was unpleasant to contemplate. 
 He had intended witnessing the return of the night- 
 riders, but, under the circumstances, that was now out 
 of the question. 
 
 He had only gone a few paces when he brought up 
 to a stand. Even amidst the noisy splashing of the 
 rain, he thought he heard the sound of running feet 
 somewhere near by ; so he stood listening with every 
 nerve straining. Then the promised deluge came and 
 drowned every other sound. It was no use waiting 
 longer, so he hurried on toward his quarters. 
 
 A dozen strides further on and the sky was split from 
 end to end with a fork of lightning, and he was
 
 THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM 229 
 
 brought to a dead halt by the scene it revealed. It 
 was gone in an instant, and the thunder crashed right 
 above him. He had distinctly seen the figures of two 
 men running. One was running toward him, and, 
 curiously enough, the other was running from his left 
 rear. And yet he had seen them both. Utterly heed- 
 less of the rain now, he waited for another flash. There 
 was something strange doing, and he wished to fathom 
 the mystery. 
 
 The duration of the storm was only a matter of a few 
 minutes. It seemed to have spent itself in one flash of 
 lightning and one peal of thunder. The second flash 
 was long in coming. But at last a hazy sheet of white 
 light shone for a second over the western sky, reveal- 
 ing the ghostly shadow of a man coming at him, bearing 
 in his upraised hand some heavy weapon of offense. He 
 leapt to avoid the blow. But he was too late. The 
 weapon descended, and, though he flung his arms to 
 protect himself, the darkness foiled him, and a crushing 
 blow on the head felled him to the ground. And as he 
 fell some great noise roared in his ears, or so it seemed, 
 and echoed and reechoed through his head. Then he 
 knew no more. 
 
 All sound was lost in the deluge of rain. The sky 
 was unrelieved by any further flashes of light for many 
 minutes. Then, at last, one came. A weak, distant 
 lighting up of the clouds, overhead, but it was sufficient 
 to show the outstretched form of the stricken man lying 
 with his white face staring up at the sky. Also it 
 revealed a shadowy figure bending over him. There 
 was no face visible, no distinct outline of form. And
 
 230 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 this figure was moving, and appeared to be testing the 
 lifeless condition of the fallen man. 
 
 Half an hour later the rain ceased, but the water was 
 still racing down the hill in little trickling rivulets 
 toward the ranch buildings. And as rapidly as the 
 storm had come up so the sky cleared. Again the 
 stars shone out and a faint radiance dimly outlined the 
 scene of the attack. 
 
 Within fifty yards of the rancher's house Tresler was 
 still stretched out upon the ground, but now a different 
 figure was bending over him. It was a well-defined 
 figure this time, a familiar figure. A little man with a 
 gray head and a twisted face. 
 
 It was Joe Nelson trying, by every rough art his 
 prairie life had taught him, to restore animation and 
 consciousness in his friend. For a long time his efforts 
 were unavailing; the task seemed hopeless. Then, 
 when the little man had begun to fear the very worst, 
 his patient suddenly moved and threw out his legs 
 convulsively. Once the springs of life had been set in 
 motion, the hardy constitution asserted itself, and, 
 without further warning, Tresler sat bolt upright and 
 stared about him wonderingly. For a few seconds he 
 sat thus, then, with a movement of intense agony, one 
 hand went up to his head. 
 
 " My God ! What's the matter with me ? My head 1 " 
 
 He slowly rocked himself for a brief spell ; then, with 
 another start, he recognized his friend, and, with an 
 effort, sprang to his feet. 
 
 " Joe ! " he cried. Then he reeled and would have 
 fallen but for the supporting arm about his waist.
 
 THE RISING OF A SUMMER STORM 231 
 
 " You wer' nigh ' done up.' Say, I wus kind o' 
 rattled. I'd shaddered that feller fer an hour or more, 
 an' then lost him. Gee ! " And there was an infinite 
 expression of disgust in the exclamation. 
 
 " Him ! Who ? " 
 
 " Ther's on'y one feller around here hatin' you fit to 
 murder, I guess." 
 
 " You mean Jake ? " asked Tresler, in a queer tone. 
 
 " Sure," was the emphatic reply. 
 
 " But, Joe, I saw the night-riders go out to-night. 
 Not more than half an hour before the storm came 
 on." 
 
 The little man made no answer, but quietly urged 
 his patient forward in the direction of the bunkhouse.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE BEARDING OF JAKE 
 
 THAT night was one that lived long in Tresler's 
 memory. Weary in mind and body, he was yet unable 
 to sleep when at last he sought his bunk. His head 
 was racked with excruciating pain, which hammered 
 through his brain with every pulsation of his throbbing 
 temples. But it was not that alone which kept him 
 awake. Thought ran riot with him, and his mind flew 
 from one scene to another without concentration, with- 
 out continuity, until he felt that if sleep did not come 
 he must go mad. 
 
 He had talked late into the night with his shrewd 
 counselor, Joe ; and the net result of their talk was 
 that all their theories, suspicions, deductions, were 
 wrong. Jake and Red Mask were not one and the 
 same. In all probability Jake had nothing to do 
 with the ruffianly raider. 
 
 They were driven to this ultimate conclusion by the 
 simple fact that while Tresler had been witnessing the 
 movements of the masked night-rider, Joe had been 
 zealously dogging the footsteps of the foreman in the 
 general interests of his mistress. And that individual's 
 footsteps had never once taken him to the rancher's 
 private stable.
 
 THE BEARDING OF JAKE 
 
 Jake had evidently been out on the spy himself. Of 
 this Joe was certain, for the man had scoured the woods 
 in the direction of the river ; he had watched the trail 
 from the ranchers stable for nearly half an hour ; he 
 had crept up to the verandah of the house under cover 
 of the darkness, seeking" Joe knew not what, but always 
 on the alert, always with the unmistakable patience of 
 a man by no means new to such a task. Once Joe had 
 missed him in the woods. Somehow, like a gigantic 
 shadow, Jake had contrived to give him the slip. And 
 this, on comparing notes, the two friends found coincided 
 with the time of the episode of the unclosed window. 
 Doubtless he had been the author of that matter. They 
 made up their minds that he had witnessed the scene 
 in the kitchen, which, of course, accounted for his later 
 dastardly attack. Who had Jake been out looking" for? 
 What was the object of his espionage ? Had he been 
 looking for him, Tresler, or some one else ? And herein 
 lay the mystery. Herein, perhaps, lay the key to the 
 greater problem they sought to solve. 
 
 Hour after hour Tresler lay awake, lost in a confusion 
 of thought which refused his best efforts to straighten 
 out. The acuteness of the pain in his head set his 
 mind almost wandering. And he found himself aim- 
 lessly reviewing 1 the events since his coming to 
 Mosquito Bend. He tossed wearily, drearily, on his 
 unyielding' palliasse, driven to a realization of his own 
 utter impotence. What had he done in the cause he 
 had espoused ? Nothing simply nothing. Worse ; 
 he had thrust himself like some clumsy, bull-headed 
 elephant, into the girl's life, into the midst of her
 
 234 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 troubles, without even that animal's capacity for 
 attaining his object by sheer might. And the result 
 was only to aggravate her lot ; to cause Jake to hasten 
 his plans, and add threats to his other persecutions. 
 And as for the raiders, they were still at large and no 
 nearer capture than when he had first arrived. Yes, he 
 told himself, he had nothing but failure to his account. 
 And that failure, instead of being harmlessly negative, 
 was an aggravation of the situation. 
 
 But at last, miserable, overwrought, and suffering as 
 he was, sleep came to him ; a deep sleep that carried 
 him far into the morning. 
 
 He had been left undisturbed by his comrades when 
 they turned out at daybreak. Joe had seen to this. 
 He had put them off with an invention of his fertile 
 imagination which satisfied them. Then, having hur- 
 ried through his own immediate morning duties, he 
 waited, with that philosophic patience which he applied 
 now in his declining years to all the greater issues of 
 his life, for his friend's awakening. 
 
 And when Tresler awoke he was wonderfully re- 
 freshed. His recuperative faculties were remarkable. 
 The aching of his head had passed away, and with it 
 the deplorable hopelessness of overnight. He sat up 
 on his bunk, and the first object that his gaze fell upon 
 was the patient figure of old Joe. 
 
 " Well Scott ! it's late. What's the time ? Where 
 are the boys ? What are you doing here ? " 
 
 He fired his questions rapidly. But Joe was not to 
 be hurried ; neither was he going to waste precious 
 time on unnecessary talk. So he shrugged his shoul-
 
 THE BEARDING OF JAKE 235 
 
 ders and indicated the departure of the men to work 
 with a backward jerk of his head, and, while Tresler 
 performed his brief toilet, got to business in his own 
 way. 
 
 " Feelin' good ? " he asked. 
 
 " Fair." 
 
 " Goin' right up to see Jake ? " 
 
 " Yes. Where is he ? " 
 
 " In his shack. Say," the old man shifted uneasily, 
 " I've tho't a crateful sence we wus yarnin' last night, 
 I guess. Don't git shuvin' Jake too close agin the 
 wall. Give him your yarn easy. Kind o' talk han'sum 
 by him. He's goin' to figger this thing out fer us. 
 He'll git givin' us a lead, mebbe, when he ain't calc'- 
 latin' to. Savee ? " 
 
 Tresler didn't answer at once ; in fact, he didn't quite 
 see the old man's point. He completed his toilet by 
 buckling on his belt and revolver. Then he prepared 
 to depart. 
 
 " We'll see. I intend to be governed by circum- 
 stances," he said quietly. 
 
 " Jest so. An' circumstances has the way o' gov- 
 ernin' most things, anyways. Guess I'm jest astin' you 
 to rub the corners ofT'n them circumstances so they'll 
 run smooth." 
 
 Tresler smiled at the manner of the old man's advice, 
 which was plain enough this time. 
 
 " I see. Well, so long." 
 
 He hurried out and Joe watched him go. Then the 
 little man rose from his seat and went out to Teddy 
 Jinks's kitchen on the pretense of yarning. In reality
 
 236 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 he knew that the foreman's hut was in full view from 
 the kitchen window. 
 
 Tresler walked briskly across to the hut He never 
 in his life felt more ready to meet Jake than he did at 
 this moment. He depended on the outcome of this in- 
 terview for the whole of his future course. He did not 
 attempt to calculate the possible result. He felt that to 
 do so would be to cramp his procedure. He meant to 
 work on his knowledge of his rival's character. Herein 
 lay his hopes of success. It was Joe who had given 
 him his cue. " It's the most dangerousest thing to hit 
 a ' rattler ' till you've got him good an' riled," the little 
 man had once said. " Then he lifts an' it's dead easy, 
 I guess. Hit him lyin', an' ef you don't kill him, ther's 
 goin' to be trouble. Them critters has a way of 
 thinkin' hard an' quick or'nary." And Tresler meant 
 to deal with Jake in a similar manner. The rest must 
 be left to the circumstances they had discussed. 
 
 It so happened that Jake, too, was late abed that 
 morning. Tresler found him just finishing the break- 
 fast Jinks had brought him. Jake's surly " Come in," 
 in response to his knock, brought him face to face with 
 the last man he desired to see in his hut at that mo- 
 ment. And Tresler almost laughed aloud as the great 
 man sprang from the table, nearly overturning it in his 
 angry haste. 
 
 " It's all right, Jake," he said with a smile, " I come 
 in peace." 
 
 And the other stood for a moment eyeing him 
 fiercely, yet not knowing quite how to take him. 
 Without waiting for an invitation his visitor seated
 
 THE BEARDING OF JAKE 237 
 
 himself on the end of the bunk and stared back 
 squarely into the angry face. It did him good, as he 
 remembered the events of the night before, to thus 
 beard this man who hated him to the point of murder. 
 
 He waited for Jake to reply ; and while his gaze 
 wandered over the cruel, intolerant, overbearing face 
 he found himself speculating as to the caste of that 
 which lay hidden beneath the black, coarse mat of 
 beard. 
 
 At last the reply came, and he had expected no 
 better. 
 
 " What in h are you doin' here ? " Jake asked 
 
 brutally. Then, as an afterthought, "Why ain't you 
 out on the range ? " 
 
 Tresler permitted himself to lounge over on his 
 elbow and cross his legs with an aggravating air of 
 ease. 
 
 " For much the same reason that you are only just 
 finishing your grub. I overslept myself." 
 
 And he watched Jake choke back the furious retort 
 that suddenly leapt to his lips. It was evident, even to 
 the intolerant disposition of the foreman, that it was no 
 time for abuse, and anger. This man had come to him 
 for some particular purpose, and it behooved him to 
 keep guard on himself. The doings of the night be- 
 fore were in his mind, and he realized that it would be 
 well to meet him coolly. Therefore, instead of the out- 
 burst so natural to him, he contented himself with a 
 cool survey of his antagonist, while he put a non-com- 
 mitting inquiry. 
 
 "Wai?"
 
 238 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 And Tresler knew that his presence was accepted, 
 and that he had scored the first point. At once he as- 
 sumed a businesslike air. He sat up and generally 
 displayed a briskness quite out of keeping with his 
 former attitude. 
 
 " I suppose I ought to apologize for my intrusion," 
 he began, " but when you have heard my story, you 
 will understand its necessity. I had a busy night last 
 night." 
 
 If he had expected any effect from this announce- 
 ment he was disappointed. Jake's face never for a 
 moment relaxed its grim look of attention. 
 
 " Yes," he went on, as the foreman remained silent. 
 "These raiders this Red Mask, or whatever he is 
 called I saw him last night. I saw him here on this 
 ranch." 
 
 Jake stirred. He eyed his companion as though he 
 would read him through and through. 
 
 "You saw Red Mask last night?" he said 
 slowly. 
 
 " Yes. I saw him and one of his satellites." 
 
 " Go on." It was all the man vouchsafed, but it 
 spoke volumes. 
 
 And Tresler at once proceeded with his story of the 
 midnight visit of the masked rider and his companion. 
 He told his story in as few words as possible, being 
 careful to omit nothing, and laying a slight stress on 
 his own rambling in the neighborhood of the house. 
 He was very careful to confine himself to the matter of 
 the apparition, avoiding all allusion to the further hap- 
 penings of the night. When he had finished, which
 
 THE BEARDING OF JAKE 239 
 
 he did without any interruption from the other, Jake 
 spoke with quiet appreciation. 
 
 " An' you've brought the yarn to me. For any 
 partic'lar reason ? " 
 
 Tresler raised his eyebrows. " Certainly," he re- 
 plied. " You are foreman of the ranch. Mr. Marbolt's 
 interests are yours." 
 
 " That being so, I'd like to know what you were do- 
 ing around the house at that hour of the night?" was 
 Jake's prompt retort. 
 
 Tresler had looked for this. He knew perfectly well 
 that Jake did not expect his question to be answered. 
 Didn't particularly want it answered. It was simply 
 to serve a purpose. He was trying to draw him. 
 
 " That is my affair, Jake. For the moment, at least, 
 let us set personalities on one side. No doubt we have 
 accounts to settle. I may as well say at once we are 
 in each other's debt. But this matter I am speaking 
 of is of personal interest to everybody around the dis- 
 trict." 
 
 All the time he was speaking, Tresler was watching 
 for the smallest change in Jake's manner. And as he 
 went on his appreciation of the fellow's capability rose. 
 He realized that Jake was, after all, something more 
 than a mass of beef and muscle. As no comment was 
 forthcoming he went on rapidly. 
 
 " Now, last night's apparition was not altogether new 
 to me. I saw the same thing the first night I arrived 
 on the ranch, but, being ' green ' at the time, it lost its 
 significance. Now, it is different. It needs explain- 
 ing. So I have come to you. But I have not come to
 
 240 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 you without having considered the matter as fully as it 
 is possible for one in my position to do. Mark me 
 carefully. I have weighed all the details of Red 
 Mask's raids ; considered them from all points. Time 
 and place, distance, the apparitions around the ranch, 
 for those ghostly visitors have, at times, been seen in 
 the neighborhood by others. And all these things so 
 tally that they have produced a conviction in my mind 
 that there is a prime mover in the business to be found 
 on this ranch." 
 
 "An* the prime mover?" Jake's interest had in no 
 way relaxed. He seemed to be eager to hear every- 
 thing Tresler could tell him. The latter shrugged. 
 
 " Who is there on this ranch that cannot at all times 
 be accounted for? Only one man. Anton Black 
 Anton." 
 
 A pause ensued. Tresler had played a high card. 
 If Jake refused to be drawn it would be awkward. The 
 pause seemed endless and he was forced to provoke an 
 answer. 
 
 "Well?" he questioned sharply. 
 
 " Well," echoed the foreman ; and the other noted 
 the quiet derision in his tone, " seems to me you've 
 done a deal of figgering." 
 
 Tresler nodded. 
 
 Jake turned away with something very like a smile. 
 Evidently he had decided upon the course to be pur- 
 sued. Tresler, watching him, could not quite make 
 up his mind whether he was playing the winning hand, 
 or whether his opponent was finessing for the odd trick. 
 Jake suddenly became expansive.
 
 THE BEARDING OF JAKE 241 
 
 " I'd like to know how we're standin' before we go 
 further,-" he said ; " though, mind you, I ain't asking. 
 1 tell you candidly I ain't got no use for you, and I 
 guess it would take a microscope to see your affection 
 for me. This bein' so, I ask myself, what has this feller 
 come around with his yarn to me for ? I allow there's 
 two possible reasons which strike me as bein' of any 
 consequence. One is that, maybe, some'eres in the 
 back of your head, you've a notion that I know a heap 
 about this racket, and sort o' wink at it, seein' Mar- 
 bolt's blind, an' draw a bit out of the game. And the 
 other is, you're honest, an' tryin' to play the game 
 right. Now, I'll ask you not to get plumb scared when 
 I tell you I think you're dead honest about this thing. 
 If I didn't wal, maybe you'd be lit out of this shack 
 by now." 
 
 Jake reached over to the table and picked up a plug of 
 tobacco and tore off a chew with his great strong teeth. 
 And Tresler could not help marveling at the pincher- 
 like power with which he bit through the plug. 
 
 " Now, Tresler, there's that betxveen us that can 
 never let us be friends. I'm goin' to get level with you 
 some day. But just now, as you said, we can let 
 things bide. I say you're honest in this thing, and if 
 you choose to be honest with me I'll be honest with 
 you." 
 
 One word flashed through Tresler' s brain : "finesse." 
 
 "I'm glad you think that way, Jake," he said seri- 
 ously. " My object is to get to the bottom of this mat- 
 ter." 
 
 It was a neat play in the game, the way in which
 
 242 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 these two smoothed each other down. They accepted 
 each other's assurances with the suavity of practiced 
 lawyers, each without an atom of credence or good 
 faith. 
 
 "Just so," Jake responded, with a ludicrous attempt 
 at benignity. " An' it's due to the fact that you've 
 been smart enough to light on the right trail, that I'm 
 ready to tell you something I've been holding up from 
 everybody, even Marbolt himself. Mind, I haven't got 
 the dead-gut cinch on these folk yet, though I'm right 
 on to 'em, sure. Anton, that's the feller. I've tracked 
 him from the other side of the line. His real name's 
 ' Tough ' McCulloch, an' I guess I know as much as 
 there is to be known of him an' his history, which is 
 pretty rotten. He's wanted in Alberta for murder. 
 Not one, but half a dozen. Say, shall I tell you what 
 he's doin' ? He rides out of here at night, an' joins a 
 gang of scallywag Breeds, like himself, an' they are the 
 crowd that have been raiding all around us. And 
 Anton well, I'd like to gamble my last dollar he's the 
 fellow wearing the Red Mask. Say, I knew he was 
 out last night. He was out with two of the horses. I 
 was around. An' at daylight I went up to the stable 
 while he was sleepin', an' the dog-gone fool hadn't 
 cleaned the saddle marks from their backs. Now, if 
 you're feeling like bearin' a hand in lagging this black 
 
 son-of-a I'm with you fair an' square. We won't 
 
 shake hands, for good reasons, but your word'll go with 
 me." 
 
 " Nothing would suit me better." 
 
 Tresler was struggling to fathom the man's object.
 
 THE BEARDING OF JAKE 243 
 
 " Good. Now we'll quietly go up to the stable. 
 Maybe you can tell if a horse has been recently sad- 
 dled, even after grooming?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I'll show you. An' mind, Marbolt hasn't or- 
 dered one of his private horses out. Nor ain't Miss 
 Diane. It's Anton." 
 
 He rose and prepared to depart, but Tresler stayed 
 him. 
 
 " One moment, Jake," he said. " I don't wish to 
 give offense, but tell me why, if you have discovered 
 so much about Anton, have you let these things go on 
 so long ? Think of the murder of Manson Orr, of Ari- 
 zona's wound, of the dozen and one outrages of which 
 even I am aware." 
 
 Jake stood silently contemplating him for a while. 
 Nor was there any sign of his swift anger. He smiled 
 faintly, and again Tresler noted the nasty tone of deri- 
 sion in his voice when he answered. 
 
 " I thought maybe you'd learnt a deal out here 
 where you find everybody on their own. I thought 
 you'd p'r'aps learned that it ain't wise to raise trouble 
 till you've got the business end of your gun pointin' 
 right. Can't you see there's not a cent's worth of 
 evidence against the man yet? Have you ever 
 heard where he runs his cattle? Has anybody? Has 
 any one ever seen under that mask ? Has any 
 one been found who could identify even his figure? 
 No. Red Mask is a will-o'-the-wisp. He's a ghost ; 
 and it's our business to find the body o' that ghost. 
 I'm not the fool to go around to Anton and say, ' You
 
 244 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 are Red Mask.' He'd laugh in my face. An' later on 
 I guess I'd be targettin' a shot for him. What if I 
 rounded to the gove'nor an' got him fired ? It would be 
 the worst possible. Keepin' him here, and lying low, 
 we have a chance of puttin' him out of business. No, 
 sir, we're dealin' with the smartest crook west of Chi- 
 cago. But I'll have him ; we'll get him. I never was 
 bested yet. An' I'll have him, same as I get any other 
 guy that crosses me. Let's get on." 
 
 They moved out of the hut. 
 
 " It's been taking you some time, already," Tresler 
 suggested with a smile, as they moved across the open. 
 
 Jake took no umbrage. His dark face responded 
 with a sardonic grin, and his eyes were fiercely alight. 
 
 "Tchah!" he ejaculated impatiently. "Say, you 
 never heard tell of a feller gettin' his own good, an' 
 gettin' it quick. Cattle-thieves ain't easy handlin', an' 
 I don't jump till I'm riled." 
 
 Tresler made no answer, and the two reached the 
 stable without exchanging another word. Inside they 
 found Anton at work, cleaning harness. He looked 
 up as they came in, and Tresler eyed him with a re- 
 newed interest. And the man's face was worth study- 
 ing. There was no smile, no light in it, and even very 
 little interest. His smooth, tawny skin and aquiline 
 features, his black hair and blacker eyes, in their dark 
 setting, had a devilish look to Tresler's imagination. 
 He even found himself wondering where the good 
 looks he had observed when they met before had van- 
 ished to. Jake nodded to him and passed into Bessie's 
 stall at once.
 
 THE BEARDING OF JAKE 245 
 
 " This is the mare, Tresler, the dandiest thing ever 
 bred on this ranch. Look at her points. See the coat, 
 its color. Red roan, with legs as black as soot. Say, 
 she's a picture. Now I guess she'd fetch a couple of 
 hundred dollars away down east where you come 
 from." 
 
 He said all this for Anton's benefit while he smoothed 
 his hand over Bessie's back. Tresler followed suit, 
 feeling for the impression of the saddle-cloth in the 
 hair. It was there, and he went on inspecting the legs, 
 with the air of a connoisseur. The other saddle-horse 
 they treated in the same way, but the drivers were left 
 alone. For some minutes they stood discussing the 
 two animals and then passed out again. Anton had 
 displayed not the least interest in their doings, al- 
 though nothing had escaped his keen, swift-moving 
 eyes. 
 
 Once out of ear-shot Jake turned to Tresler. 
 
 "Wai?" 
 
 " The horses have both been saddled." 
 
 " Good. Now we've got the thing plumb located. 
 You heard them gassin' at the stable. You heard 'em 
 slam the door. You saw the two come along. An' 
 one of 'em must have been Anton. Leastways he 
 must have let 'em have the hosses. I guess that's an 
 alternative. I say Anton was up on one of them 
 hosses, an' the other was some gorl durned Breed mate 
 of his. Good. We're goin' right on to see the gov- 
 ernor." 
 
 " What to do ? " asked Tresler. 
 
 " To give him your yarn," Jake said shortly.
 
 246 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 They were half-way to the house when the foreman 
 suddenly halted and stared out over the lower ranch 
 buildings at the distant pastures. Tresler was slightly 
 behind him as he stood, and only had a sight of the 
 man's profile. He did not seem to be looking at any 
 particular object. His attitude was one of thoughtful 
 introspection. Tresler waited. Things were turning 
 out better than he had hoped, and he had no wish but 
 to let the arbiter of the situation take his own way. 
 He began to think that, whatever Jake's ulterior object 
 might be, he was in earnest about Anton. 
 
 At last his companion grunted and turned, and he 
 saw at once that the artificial comradeship of his man- 
 ner had lifted, and the " Jake " he had already learned 
 to understand was dominant again. He saw the 
 vicious setting of the brows, the fiery eyes. He quite 
 understood that self-control was the weakest side of 
 this man's character, and could not long withstand the 
 more powerful bullying nature that swayed him. 
 
 " I asked you a question back there," he said, jerk- 
 ing his head in the direction of his hut, " an' you said 
 it was your affair ; an' we'd best let personalities stand 
 for the moment. I'd like an answer before we go 
 further. You reckon to be honest, I guess. Wai, 
 now's your chance. Tell me to my face what I've 
 learned for myself. What were you doin' round 
 here last night? What were you doin' in Marbolt's 
 kitchen ? " 
 
 Tresler understood the motive of the man's insist- 
 ence now. Jake was showing him a side of his char- 
 acter he had hardly suspected. It was the human na-
 
 THE BEARDING OF JAKE 247 
 
 ture in the man asking for a confirmation of his worst 
 fears, in reality his worst kno\vledge. For he was well 
 aware that Jake had witnessed the scene in the kitchen. 
 
 " As I said before, it is my affair," he responded, 
 with an assumption of indifference. " Still, since you 
 insist, you may as well know first as last. I went to 
 see Miss Diane. I saw her " 
 
 " An' ?" There was a tense restraint in the mono- 
 syllable. 
 
 Tresler shrugged. " Miss Marbolt is my promised 
 wife." 
 
 There was a deathly silence after his announcement. 
 Tresler looked out over the ranch. He seemed to see 
 everything about him at once ; even Jake was in the 
 strained focus, although he was not looking at him. 
 His nerves were strung, and seemed as though they 
 were held in a vice. He thought he could even hear 
 the sound of his own temples beating. He had no 
 fear, but he was expectant. 
 
 Then Jake broke the silence, and his voice, though 
 harsh, was low ; it was muffled with a throatiness 
 caused by the passion that moved him. 
 
 " You'll never marry that gal," he said. 
 
 And Tresler was round on him in an instant, and his 
 face was alight with a cold smile. 
 
 " I will," he said. 
 
 And then Jake moved on with something very like a 
 rush. And Tresler followed. His smile was still upon 
 his face. But it was there of its own accord, a nervous 
 mask which had nothing to do with the thoughts pass- 
 ing behind it.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A PORTENTOUS INTERVIEW 
 
 TRESLER was in no way blind to the quality of the 
 armistice that had been arranged between himself and 
 Jake. He knew full well that that peaceful interim 
 would be used by Jake to raise earthworks of the 
 earthiest kind, and to train his guns with deadly ac- 
 curacy upon his enemy. Well, so he wanted. His 
 purpose was to draw his adversary's fire directly upon 
 himself. As he had said, to do anything to help the 
 girl he loved, he must himself be in the fighting line. 
 And from the moment of his doubtful compact with 
 Jake he felt that he was not only in the fighting line, 
 but that, if all he had heard on the subject of Red 
 Mask was true, he would become the centre of attack. 
 There was a pleasant feeling of excitement and uncer- 
 tainty in his position, and he followed Jake all the more 
 eagerly to the presence of the rancher, only wondering 
 in what manner the forthcoming interview was to affect 
 matters. 
 
 Julian Marbolt had not left his bedroom when they 
 arrived at the house. Diane, looking a little anxious 
 when she saw these two together, showed them into 
 her father's office. She was half disposed to refuse 
 Jake's request that she should summon the blind man, 
 but a smiling nod from Tresler decided her.
 
 A PORTENTOUS INTERVIEW 249 
 
 "Very well, Jake," she replied coldly. "You won't 
 best please father unless the matter is important." 
 This was said merely to conceal her real knowledge of 
 the object of the visit. 
 
 If Jake understood he gave no sign. But he had 
 seen and resented the silent assurance Tresler had 
 given her. His angry eyes watched her as she went 
 off ; and as she disappeared he turned to his compan- 
 ion, who had seated himself by the window. 
 
 " Guess you ain't figgered on the ' old man ' 'bout 
 her? " he said. 
 
 " That, I think, is strictly my affair," Tresler replied 
 coldly. 
 
 Jake laughed, and sat down near the door. The an- 
 swer had no effect on him. 
 
 "Say, I guess you ain't never had a cyclone hit 
 you? "he asked maliciously. "It'll be interestin' to 
 see when you tell him. Maybe " 
 
 Whatever he was about to say was cut short by the 
 approach of the rancher. And it was wonderful the 
 change that came over the man as he sat listening to 
 the tap- tap of the blind man's stick in the passage. 
 He watched the door uneasily, and there was a short 
 breathless attention about him. Tresler, watching, 
 could not help thinking of the approach of some East- 
 ern potentate, with his waiting courtiers and subjects 
 rubbing their faces in the dust lest his wrath should be 
 visited upon them. He admitted that Jake's attitude 
 just now was his true one. 
 
 At the door Julian Marbolt stood for a moment, do- 
 ing by means of his wonderful hearing what his eyes
 
 250 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 failed to do for him. And the marvel of it was that he 
 faced accurately, first toward Tresler, then toward Jake. 
 He stood like some tall, ascetic, gray-headed priest, 
 garbed in a dressing-gown that needed but little imag- 
 ination to convert into a cassock. And the picture of 
 benevolence he made was only marred by the staring 
 of his dreadful eyes. 
 
 " Well, Jake ? " he said, in subdued, gentle tones. 
 " What trouble has brought you round here at this 
 hour?" 
 
 "Trouble enough," Jake responded, with a slight 
 laugh. " Tresler here brings it, though." 
 
 The blind man turned toward the window and in- 
 stinctively focussed the younger man, and somehow 
 Tresler shivered as with a cold draught when the 
 sightless eyes fixed themselves upon him. 
 
 "Ah, you Tresler. Well, we'll hear all about it." 
 Marbolt moved slowly, though without the aid of his 
 stick now, over to the table, and seated himself. 
 
 " It's the old trouble," said Jake, when his master 
 had settled himself. "The cattle 'duffers.' They're 
 gettin' busy busy around this ranch again." 
 
 " Well ? " Marbolt turned to Tresler ; his action was 
 a decided snub to Jake. 
 
 Tresler took his cue and began his story. He told 
 it almost exactly as he had told it to Jake, but with 
 one slight difference : he gave no undue emphasis to 
 his presence in the vicinity of the house. And Mar- 
 bolt listened closely, the frowning brows bespeaking 
 his concentration, and his unmoving eyes his fixed at- 
 tention. He listened apparently unmoved to every de-
 
 A PORTENTOUS INTERVIEW 251 
 
 tail, and displayed a wonderful patience while Tresler 
 went point for point over his arguments in favor of his 
 suspicions of Anton. Once only he permitted his 
 sightless glance to pass in Jake's direction, and that 
 was at the linking of the foreman's name with Tresler's 
 suspicions. As his story came to an end the blind man 
 rested one elbow on the table, and propped his chin 
 upon his hand. The other hand coming into contact 
 with a ruler lying adjacent, he picked it up and 
 thoughtfully tapped the table, while the two men 
 waited for him to speak. 
 
 At last he turned toward his foreman, and, with an 
 impressive gesture, indicated Tresler. 
 
 " This story is nothing new to us, Jake," he said. 
 Then for a moment his voice dropped, and took on a 
 pained tone. " I only wish it were ; then we could af- 
 ford to laugh at it. No, there can be no laughing here. 
 Past experience has taught us that. It is a matter of 
 the greatest seriousness danger. So much for the 
 main features. But there are side issues, suspicions 
 you have formed," turning back to Tresler, " which I 
 cannot altogether accept. Mind, I do not say flatly 
 that you are wrong, but I cannot accept them without 
 question. 
 
 " Jake here has had suspicions of Anton. I know 
 that, though he has never asserted them to me in so 
 direct a fashion as apparently he has to you." He 
 paused : then he went on in an introspective manner. 
 " I am getting on in years. I have already had a good 
 innings right here on this ranch. I have watched the 
 country develop. I have seen the settlers come, sow
 
 252 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 the seeds of their homesteads and small ranches, and 
 watched the crop grow. I have rented them grazing. 
 I have sold them stock. I have made money, and 
 they have made money, and the country has prospered. 
 It is good to see these things ; good for me, especially, 
 for I was the first here. I have been lord of the land, 
 and Jake my lieutenant. The old Indian days have 
 gone, and I have looked for nothing but peace and 
 prosperity. I wanted prosperity, for I admit I love it. 
 1 am a business man, and I do everything in connec- 
 tion with this ranch on a sound business basis. Not 
 like many of those about me. In short, I am here to 
 make money. And why not ? I own the land." 
 
 The last was said as though in argument. Tresler 
 could not help being struck by the manner in which he 
 alluded to the making of money. There was an air of 
 the miser about him when he spoke of it, a hardness 
 about the mouth which the close-trimmed beard made 
 no pretense of concealing. And there was a world of 
 arrogance in the way he said, " I own the land." How- 
 ever, he was given no time for further observation, for 
 Marbolt seemed to realize his own digression and came 
 back abruptly to the object of his discourse. 
 
 "Then this spectre, Red Mask, comes along. He 
 moves with the mystery of the Wandering Jew, and, 
 like that imaginary person, scourges the country wher- 
 ever he goes, only in a different manner. Anton had 
 been with me three years when this raider appeared. 
 Since then there have been no less than twenty-eight 
 robberies, accompanied more or less by manslaughter." 
 He became more animated and leaned forward in his
 
 A PORTENTOUS INTERVIEW 253 
 
 chair, pointing the ruler he still held in his hand at 
 Trester as he named the figures. His red eyes seemed 
 to stare harder and his heavy brows to knit more 
 closely across his forehead. " Yes," he reiterated, 
 "twenty-eight robberies. And I, with others, have 
 estimated the number and value of stock that has been 
 lost to this scoundrel. In round figures five thousand 
 head of cattle, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, 
 whisked away, spirited out of this district alone in the 
 course of a few years. One hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand dollars ; one hundred and fifty thousand," he 
 mouthed the words as though he delighted in the 
 sound of so large a sum of money. Then his whole 
 manner changed. A fiend could not have looked more 
 vicious. " And in all I have lost five hundred beeves 
 to him. Five hundred," he cried, his voice high- 
 pitched in his anger, " fifteen thousand dollars, besides 
 horses, and and some of my men wounded, even 
 killed." 
 
 Again he ceased speaking, and relapsed into a 
 brooding attitude. And the two men watched him. 
 His personality fascinated Tresler. He even began to 
 understand something of the general fear he inspired. 
 He thought of Jake who had been so many years with 
 him, and he thought he understood something of the 
 condition he must inspire in any one of no great moral 
 strength who remained with him long. Then he 
 thought of Diane, and moved uneasily. He remem- 
 bered Jake's allusion to a cyclone. 
 
 At Tresler's movement the blind man roused at once 
 and proceeded with his story.
 
 254 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 "And he roams this country at large, unchecked, 
 unopposed. Working his will whithersoever he fancies, 
 unseen, unknown but for his sobriquet. And you 
 claim he and Anton are one. This great man for in 
 his way he is great, head and shoulders above all other 
 criminals, by reason of the extent of his exploits. 
 Pshaw ! " his tone was scoffing " let me tell you, on 
 three different nights when this monster was abroad, 
 carrying destruction in his path, Anton was driving 
 me. Or, at least, was with me, having driven me into 
 Forks on one occasion, and twice in the neighborhood 
 of Whitewater. No, I am aware that Anton is a black- 
 leg, or has been one, but he has served me well and 
 truly since he has been my servant. As for the sad- 
 dle-marks," he leaned back in his chair and his gentle 
 smile returned slowly to his face. " No, no, Tresler, 
 that is insufficient. Remember, Anton is a Breed, a 
 young man, and, as Breeds go, good-looking. There 
 is a Breed camp in the neighborhood where they in- 
 dulge in all the puskies and orgies native to them. 
 We must question him. I expect he has taken French 
 leave with my horses." 
 
 " But you forget the Breed camp has gone," put in 
 Jake quickly. " Since the comin 1 of the sheriff and his 
 men to Forks they've cleared out, and, as yet, we ain't 
 located 'em. I expect it's the hills." 
 
 " Just so, Jake," replied Marbolt, turning to the fore- 
 man coldly. " I forgot that you told me of it before. 
 But that makes little difference. I have no doubt 
 Anton knows where they are. Now," he went on, 
 turning again to Tresler, " I hold no brief for Anton in
 
 A PORTENTOUS INTERVIEW 255 
 
 particular. If I thought for a moment it were so," a 
 sudden storm of vindictiveness leapt into his tone, " I 
 would hound him down, and be near while they hung 
 him slowly to death on one of our own trees. I would 
 willingly stand by while he was put to the worst pos- 
 sible tortures, and revel in his cries of agony. Don't 
 mistake me. If you could prove Anton to be the 
 rascal, he should die, whatever the consequences. We 
 would wait for no law. But you are all on the wrong 
 trail, I feel sure." 
 
 He had dropped back into his old soft-spoken man- 
 ner, and Tresler felt like hating him for the vileness of 
 the nature he displayed. 
 
 " You plead well for Anton, Mr. Marbolt," he could 
 not help saying, " but after what I heard last night, I 
 cannot believe he is not in league with these people." 
 
 It was an unfortunate remark, and brought the bit- 
 ing answer that might have been expected. 
 
 " I plead for no man, Tresler. Most certainly not 
 for a Breed. I show you where you are wrong. Your 
 inexperience is lamentable, but you cannot help it." 
 He paused, but went on again almost at once. " Since 
 I cannot persuade you, go with your story to the 
 sheriff. Let him judge of your evidence, and if a man 
 of Fyles's undoubted skill and shrewdness acts upon it, 
 I'll pay you one hundred dollars." 
 
 Tresler saw the force of the other's reply, but re- 
 sented the tone, while he still remained utterly uncon- 
 vinced of Anton's innocence. Perhaps the blind man 
 realized his unnecessary harshness, for he quickly 
 veered round again to his low-voiced benignity. And
 
 256 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Jake, interested but silent, sat watching his master with 
 an inscrutable look in his bold eyes and a half smile 
 on his hard face. 
 
 " No, Tresler," he said, " we can set all that part of 
 it on one side. You did quite right to come to me, 
 though," he added hastily ; " I thank you heartily. 
 From past experience we have learned that your ap- 
 parition means mischief. It means that a raiding 
 expedition is afoot. Maybe it was committed last 
 night. I suppose," turning to Jake, " you have not 
 heard ? " 
 
 "No." Jake shook his head. 
 
 " Well, we are forewarned, thanks to you, Tresler," 
 the other went on gravely. " And it shan't be my 
 fault if we are not forearmed. We must send a 
 warning round to the nearest homesteads. I really 
 don't know what will happen if this goes on much 
 longer." 
 
 " Why not take concerted action ? Why not resort 
 to what was recently suggested a vigilance party ? " 
 Tresler put in quickly. 
 
 The other shook his head and turned to Jake for 
 support. But none was forthcoming. Jake was watch- 
 ing that strong sightless face, gazing into it with a look 
 of bitter hatred and sinister intentness. This change 
 so astonished Tresler that he paid no attention to the 
 rancher's reply. 
 
 And at once Marbolt's peculiar instinct asserted itself. 
 He faced from one to the other with a perplexed frown, 
 and as his red eyes fell finally upon the foreman, that in- 
 dividual's whole expression was instantly transformed to
 
 A PORTENTOUS INTERVIEW 257 
 
 one of confusion. And Tresler could not help calling to 
 mind the schoolboy detected in some misdemeanor. At 
 first the confusion, then the attempt at bland innocence, 
 followed by dogged sullenness. It was evident that 
 Jake's conscience blinded him to the fact of the other's 
 sightless gaze. 
 
 " What say you, Jake ? We can only leave it to the 
 sheriff and be on our guard." 
 
 The foreman fumbled out his reply almost too 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " sure ; we must be on our guard. 
 Guess we'd better send out night guards to the differ- 
 ent stations." He stretched himself with an assump- 
 tion of ease. Then suddenly he sat bolt upright and a 
 peculiar expression came into his eyes. Tresler de- 
 tected the half smile and the side glance in his own 
 direction. "Yes," he went on, composedly enough 
 now, " partic'larly Willow Bluff." 
 
 "Why Willow Bluff? " asked the rancher, with some 
 perplexity. 
 
 " Why ? Why ? Because we're waitin' to ship them 
 two hundred beeves to the coast. They're sold, you 
 remember, an' ther's only them two Breeds, Jim an' 
 Lag Henderson, in charge of 'em. Why, it 'ud be pie, 
 a dead soft snap fer Red Mask's gang. An' the sta- 
 tion's that lonesome. All o' twenty mile from here." 
 
 Julian Marbolt sat thinking for a moment. " Yes, 
 you're right," he agreed at last. "We'll send out 
 extra night guards. And you'd best detail two good, 
 reliable men for a few days at Willow Bluff. Only 
 thoroughly reliable men, mind. You see to it."
 
 258 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Jake turned to Tresler at once, his face beaming with 
 a malicious grin. And the latter understood. But he 
 was not prepared for the skilful trap which his arch- 
 enemy was baiting for him, and into which he was to 
 promptly fall. 
 
 41 How'd it suit you, Tresler?" he asked. Then 
 without waiting for a reply he went on, " But ther', I 
 guess it wouldn't do sendin' you. You ain't the sort 
 to get scrappin' hoss thieves. It wants grit. It's 
 tough work an' needs tough men. Pshaw ! " 
 
 Tresler's blood was up in a moment. He forgot dis- 
 cretion and everything else under the taunt. 
 
 " I don't know that it wouldn't do, Jake," he retorted 
 promptly. " It seems to me your remarks come badly 
 from a man who has reason to know to remember 
 that I am capable of holding my own with most men, 
 even those big enough to eat me." 
 
 He saw his blunder even while he was speaking. 
 But he was red-hot with indignation and didn't care a 
 jot for the consequences. And Jake came at him. If 
 the foreman's taunt had roused him, it was nothing to 
 the effect of his reply. Jake crossed the room in a 
 couple of strides and his furious face was thrust close 
 into Tresler's, and, in a voice hoarse with passion, he 
 fairly gasped at him 
 
 " I ain't fergot. An' by G " 
 
 But he got no further. A movement on the part of 
 the rancher interrupted him. Before he realized what 
 was happening the blind man was at his side with a 
 grip on his arm that made him wince. 
 
 " Stop it 1 " he cried fiercely. " Stop it, you fool !
 
 A PORTENTOUS INTERVIEW 259 
 
 Another word and, blind as I am, I'll " Jake strug- 
 gled to release himself, but Marbolt held him with al- 
 most superhuman strength and slowly backed him from 
 his intended victim. "Back! Do you hear? I'll 
 have no murder done in here unless I do it my- 
 self. Get back back, blast you!" And Jake was 
 slowly, in spite of his continued struggles, thrust against 
 the wall. And then, as he still resisted, Marbolt pushed 
 the muzzle of a revolver against his face. "I'll drop 
 you like a hog, if you don't " 
 
 But the compelling weapon had instant effect, and 
 the foreman's resistance died out weakly. 
 
 The whole scene had occurred so swiftly that Tresler 
 simply stood aghast. The agility, the wonderful sure- 
 ness and rapidity of movement on Marbolt' s part were 
 staggering. The whole thing seemed impossible, and 
 yet he had seen it ; and the meaning of the stories of 
 this man he had listened to came home to him. He 
 was, indeed, something to fear. The great bullying 
 Jake was a child in his hands. Now like a whipped 
 child, he stood with his back to the wall, a picture of 
 hate and fury. 
 
 With Jake silenced Marbolt turned on him. His 
 words were few but sufficient. 
 
 " And as for you, Tresler," he said coldly, " keep 
 that tongue of yours easy. I am master here." 
 
 There was a brief silence, then the rancher returned 
 to the subject that had caused the struggle. 
 
 " Well, what about the men for Willow Bluff, Jake ?" 
 
 It was Tresler who answered the question, and with- 
 out a moment's hesitation.
 
 260 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " 1 should like to go out there, Mr. Marbolt. Espe- 
 cially if there's likely to be trouble." 
 
 It was the only position possible for him after what 
 had gone before, and he knew it. He glanced at Jake 
 and saw that, for the moment at least, his hatred for 
 his employer had been set aside. He was smiling a 
 sort of tigerish smile. 
 
 " Very well, Tresler," responded the rancher. " And 
 you can choose your own companion. You can go 
 and get ready. Jake," turning to the other, " I want 
 to talk to you." 
 
 Tresler went out, feeling that he had made a mess 
 of things. He gave Jake credit for his cleverness, 
 quite appreciating the undying hate that prompted it. 
 But the thing that was most prominent in his thoughts 
 was the display the blind man had given him. He 
 smiled when he thought of Jake's boasted threats to 
 Diane; how impotent they seemed now. But the smile 
 died out when he remembered he, himself, had yet to 
 face the rancher on the delicate subject of his daughter. 
 He remembered only too well Jake's reference to a cy- 
 clone, and he made his way to the bunkhouse with no 
 very enlivening thoughts. 
 
 In the meantime the two men he had just left re- 
 mained silent until the sound of his footsteps had quite 
 died out. Then Marbolt spoke. 
 
 " Jake, you are a damned idiot ! " he said abruptly. 
 
 The foreman made no answer and the other 
 went on. 
 
 " Why can't you leave the boy alone ? He's harm- 
 less ; besides he's useful to me to us."
 
 A PORTENTOUS INTERVIEW 261 
 
 " Harmless useful ? " Jake laughed bitterly. " Pshaw, 
 I guess your blindness is gettin' round your brains ! " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean it 'ud have been better if you'd let me 
 wipe him out. Better for us for you." 
 
 "I don't see; you forget his money." The blind 
 man's tone was very low. " You forget he intends to 
 buy a ranch and stock. You forget that he has twenty- 
 five thousand dollars to expend. Bah ! I'll never make 
 a business man of you." 
 
 "And what about your girl?" Jake asked, quite un- 
 moved by the other's explanation. 
 
 "My girl?" Marbolt laughed softly. "You are 
 always harping on that. He will leave my girl alone. 
 She knows my wishes, and will shall obey me. I 
 don't care a curse about him or his affairs. But I want 
 his money, and if you will only see to your diabolical 
 temper, I'll we'll have it. Your share stands good in 
 this as in all other deals." 
 
 It was the foreman's turn to laugh. But there was 
 no mirth in it. It stopped as suddenly as it began, cut 
 off short. 
 
 "He will leave your girl alone, will he?" he said, 
 with a sneer. " Say, d'you know what he was doin' 
 around this house last night when he saw those hoss- 
 thief guys, or shall 1 tell you ? " 
 
 "You'd better tell me," replied the rancher, 
 coldly. 
 
 " He was after your girl. Say, an' what's more, he 
 saw her. An' what's still more, she's promised to be 
 his wife. He told me."
 
 262 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " What's that ? Say it again." There was an omi- 
 nous calmness in the blind man's manner. 
 
 " I said he was after your girl, saw her, and she's 
 promised to be his wife." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Then there was a silence for some minutes. The red 
 eyes were frowning in the direction of the window. 
 At last the man drew a deep breath, and Jake, watch- 
 ing him, wondered what was coming. 
 
 " I'll see her," he said slowly, " and I'll see him 
 after he comes back from Willow Bluff." 
 
 That was all, but Jake, accustomed to Julian Mar- 
 bolt's every mood, read a deal more than the words ex- 
 pressed. He waited for what else might be coming, but 
 only received a curt dismissal in tones so sharp that he 
 hurried out of the room precipitately. 
 
 Once clear of the verandah he walked more slowly, 
 and his eyes turned in the direction of the bunkhouse. 
 All the old hatred was stirred within him as he saw 
 Tresler turn the angle of the building and disappear 
 within its doorway. 
 
 " Guess no one's goin' to see you after Willow 
 Bluff," he muttered. " No one."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 
 
 TRESLER would have liked to see Diane before go- 
 ing 1 out to Willow Bluff, but reflection showed him how 
 impossible that would be ; at least, how much unneces- 
 sary risk it would involve for her. After what he had 
 just witnessed of her father, it behooved him to do noth- 
 ing rashly as far as she was concerned, so he turned his 
 whole attention to his preparations for departure. 
 
 He had made up his mind as to his comrade without 
 a second thought. Arizona was his man, and he sent 
 the diplomatic Joe out to bring him in from Pine 
 Creek sloughs, where he was cutting late hay for win- 
 ter stores. 
 
 In about half an hour the American came in, all cu- 
 riosity and eagerness ; nor would he be satisfied until 
 he had been told the whole details of the matter that 
 had led up to the appointment. Tresler kept back 
 nothing but his private affairs relating to Diane. At 
 the conclusion of the recital, Arizona's rising temper 
 culminated in an explosion. 
 
 " Say, that feller Jake's a meaner pirate an' cus as 
 'ud thieve the supper from a blind dawg an* then lick 
 hell out o' him 'cos he can't see." Which outburst of 
 feeling having satisfied the necessity of the moment,
 
 264 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 he became practical. " An' you're goin', you an' me ?" 
 he asked incredulously. 
 
 "That's the idea, Arizona; but of course you're quite 
 free to please yourself. I chose you ; Marbolt gave me 
 the privilege of selection." 
 
 " Wai, guess we'd best git goin'. Willow Bluff sta- 
 tion's fair to decent, so we'll only need our blankets an' 
 grub an' a tidy bunch of ammunition. Guess I'll go 
 an' see Teddy fer the rations." 
 
 He went off in a hurry. Tresler looked after him. 
 It was good to be dealing with such a man after those 
 others, Jake and the rancher. Arizona's manner of ac- 
 cepting his selection pleased him. There was no "yes " 
 or "no "about it: no argument. A silent acceptance 
 and ready thought for their needs. A thorough old 
 campaigner. A man to be relied on in emergency a 
 man to be appreciated. 
 
 In two hours everything was in readiness, Tresler 
 contenting himself with a reassuring message to Diane 
 through the medium of Joe. 
 
 They rode off. Jezebel was on her good behavior, 
 and Arizona's mount kept up with her fast walk by 
 means of his cowhorse amble. As they came to the 
 ford, Tresler drew up and dismounted, and the other 
 watched him while he produced a wicker-covered glass 
 flask from his pocket. 
 
 " What's that ? " he asked. " Rye ? " 
 
 Tresler shook his head, and tried the metal screw 
 cap. 
 
 " No," he replied shortly. 
 
 Then he leant over the water and carefully set the bot-
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 265 
 
 tie floating, pushing it out as far as possible with his 
 foot while he supported himself by the overhanging 
 bough of a tree. Then he stood watching it carried 
 slowly amid-stream. Presently the improvised craft 
 darted out with a rush into the current, and swept on- 
 ward with the main flow of the water. Then he re- 
 turned and remounted his impatient mare. 
 
 " That," he said, as they rode on, " is a message. 
 Fyles's men are down the river spying out the land, arid, 
 incidentally, waiting to hear from me. The message 
 I've sent them is a request for assistance at Willow 
 Bluff. I have given them sound reason, which Fyles 
 will understand." 
 
 Arizona displayed considerable astonishment, which 
 found expression in a deprecating avowal. 
 
 "Say, I guess I'm too much o' the old hand. I 
 didn't jest think o 1 that." 
 
 It was all he vouchsafed, but it said a great deal. 
 And the thin face and wild eyes said more. 
 
 Now they rode on in silence, while they followed the 
 wood-lined trail along the river. The shade was de- 
 lightful, and the trail sufficiently sandy to muffle the 
 sound of the horses' hoofs and so leave the silence un- 
 broken. There was a faint hum from the insects that 
 haunted the river, but it was drowsy, soft, and only 
 emphasized the perfect sylvan solitude. After a while 
 the trail left the river and gently inclined up to the 
 prairie level. Then the bush broke and became scat- 
 tered into small bluffs, and a sniff of the bracing air of 
 the plains brushed away the last odor of the redolent 
 glades they were leaving.
 
 266 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 It was here that Arizona roused himself. He was of 
 the prairie, belonging to the prairie. The woodlands 
 depressed him, but the prairie made him expansive. 
 
 " Seems to me, Tresler, you're kind o' takin' a heap 
 o' chances mostly onnes'ary. Meanin' ther' ain't no 
 more reason to it than whistlin' Methody hymns to a 
 deaf mule. Can't see why you're mussin' y'self up wi' 
 these all-fired hoss thieves. You're askin' fer a sight 
 more'n you ken eat." 
 
 " And, like all men of such condition, I shall proba- 
 bly eat to repletion, I suppose you mean." 
 
 Arizona turned a doubtful eye on the speaker, and 
 quietly spat over his horse's shoulder. 
 
 " Guess your langwidge ain't mine," he said thought- 
 fully ; " but if you're meanin' you're goin' to git your 
 belly full, I calc'late you're li'ble to git like a crop- 
 bound rooster wi' the moult 'fore you're through. An' 
 I sez, why ? " 
 
 Tresler shrugged. " Why does a man do anything?" 
 he asked indifferently. 
 
 " Gener'ly fer one of two reasons. Guess it's drink 
 or wimmin." Again he shot a speculating glance at 
 his friend, and, as Tresler displayed more interest in 
 the distant view than in his remarks, he went on. " I 
 ain't heerd tell as you wus death on the bottle." 
 
 The object of his solicitude smiled round on him. 
 
 " Perhaps you think me a fool. But I just can't 
 stand by seeing things going wrong in a way that 
 threatens to swamp one poor, lonely girl, whose only 
 protection is her blind father." 
 
 " Then it is wimmin ? "
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 267 
 
 " If you like." 
 
 " But I don't jest see wher' them hoss thieves figger." 
 
 '' Perhaps you don't, but believe me they do indi- 
 rectly." Tresler paused. Then he went on briskly. 
 " There's no need to go into details about it, but but 
 I want to run into this gang. Do you know why? 
 Because I want to find out who this Red Mask is. It 
 is on his personality depends the possibility of my help- 
 ing the one soul on this ranch who deserves nothing 
 but tender kindness at the hands of those about her." 
 
 " A-men," Arizona added in the manner he had ac- 
 quired in his " religion " days. 
 
 " I must set her free of Jake somehow." 
 
 Arizona's eyes flashed round on him quickly. "Jest 
 so," he observed complainingly. "That's how I 
 wanted to do last night." 
 
 " And you'd have upset everything." 
 
 " Wrong plumb wrong." 
 
 " Perhaps so," Tresler smiled confidently. " We are 
 all liable to mistakes." 
 
 Arizona's dissatisfied grunt was unmistakable. 
 " Thet's jest how that sassafras-colored, bull-beef Joe 
 Nelson got argyfyin' when Jake come around an' lo- 
 cated him sleepin' off the night before in the hog-pen. 
 But it don't go no more'n his did, I guess. Howsum, 
 it's wimmin. Say, Tresler," the lean figure leant over 
 toward him, and the wild eyes looked earnestly into 
 his "it's right, then dead right?" 
 
 "When I've settled with her father and Jake." 
 
 Arizona held out his horny, claw-like hand. " Shake," 
 he said. " I'm glad, real glad."
 
 268 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 They gripped for a moment, then the cowpuncher 
 turned away, and sat staring out over the prairie. 
 Tresler, watching him, wondered at that long abstrac- 
 tion. The man's face had a softened look. 
 
 " We all fall victims to it sooner or later, Arizona," 
 he ventured presently. " It comes once in a man's 
 lifetime, and it comes for good or ill." 
 
 " Twice me." 
 
 The hard fact nipped Tresler's sentimental mood in 
 the bud. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 The other continued his study of the sky-line. 
 " Yup," he said at last. " One died, an' t'other didn't 
 hatch out." 
 
 " I see." 
 
 It was no use attempting sympathy. When Arizona 
 spoke of himself, when he chose to confide his life's 
 troubles to any one, he had a way of stating simple 
 facts merely as facts ; he spoke of them because it 
 suited his pessimistic mood. 
 
 "Yup. The first was kind o' fady, anyways sort 
 o' limp in the backbone. Guess I'd got fixed wi' her 
 'fore I knew a heap. Must 'a' bin. Yup, she wus fancy 
 in her notions. Hated sharin' a pannikin o' tea wi' a 
 friend ; guess I see her scrape out a fry- pan oncet. I 
 'lows she had cranks. Guess she hadn't a pile o' brain, 
 neither. She never could locate a hog from a sow, an' 
 as fer stridin' a hoss, hell itself couldn't 'a' per-suaded 
 her. She'd a notion fer settin' sideways, an' allus got 
 muleish when you guessed she wus wrong. Yup, she 
 wus red-hot on the mission sociables an' eatin' ofTn
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 269 
 
 chiny, an' wa'n't satisfied wi' noospaper on the table ; 
 an' took the notion she'd got pimples, an' worried hell 
 out o' her old man till he bo't a razor an' turned his 
 features into a patch o' fall ploughing an' kind o' bull- 
 dozed her mother into lashin' her stummick wi' some 
 noofangled fixin' as wouldn't meet round her nowheres 
 noways. An' she wus kind o' finnicky wi' her own 
 feedin', too. Guess some wall-eyed cuss had took her 
 into Sacramento an' give her a feed at one of them 
 Dago joints, wher' they disguise most everythin' wi' 
 langwidge, an' ile, an' garlic, till you hate yourself. 
 Wai, she died. Mebbe she's got all them things handy 
 now. But I ain't sayin' nothin' mean about her ; she 
 jest had her notions. Guess it come from her mother. 
 I 'lows she wus kind o' struck on fool things an' fixin's. 
 Can't blame her noways. Guess I wus mostly sudden 
 them days. Luv ut fust sight is a real good thing 
 when it comes to savin' labor, but like all labor-savin' 
 fixin's, it's liable to git rattled some, an' then ther' ain't 
 no calc'latin' what's goin' to bust." 
 
 Arizona's manner was very hopeless, but presently 
 he cheered up visibly and renewed his wad of chewing. 
 
 " T'other wus kind o' slower in comin' along," he 
 went on, in his reflective drawl. " But when it got 
 around it wus good an' strong, sure. Y' see, ther' wus a 
 deal 'tween us like to make us friendly. She made hash 
 fer the round-up, which I 'lows, when the lady's young, 
 she's most gener'ly an objec' of 'fection fer the boys. 
 Guess she wus most every kind of a gal, wi 1 her ha'r the 
 color of a field of wheat ready fer the binder, an' her 
 figger as del'cate as one o' them crazy egg-bilers, an'
 
 270 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 her pretty face all sparklin' wi' smiles an' hoss-soap, 
 an' her eye ! Gee ! but she had an eye. Guess she 
 would 'a' made a prairie-rose hate itself. But that wus 
 'fore we hooked up in a team. I 'lows marryin's a 
 mighty bad finish to courtin'." 
 
 " You were married ? " 
 
 "Am." 
 
 A silence fell. The horses ambled on in the fresh 
 noonday air. Arizona's look was forbidding. Sud- 
 denly he turned and gazed fiercely into his friend's face. 
 
 "Yes, siree. An' it's my 'pinion, in spite of wot 
 some folks sez, gettin' married's most like makin' 
 butter. Courtin's the cream, good an' thick an' juicy, 
 an' you ken lay it on thick, an' you kind o' wonder 
 how them buzzocky old cows got the savee to perduce 
 sech a daisy liquid. But after the turnin'-point, which 
 is marryin', it's diff'rent some. 'Tain't cream no longer. 
 It's butter, an' you need to use it sort o' mean. That's 
 how I found, I guess." 
 
 " I suppose you settled down, and things went all 
 right, though?" suggested Tresler. 
 
 "Wai, maybe that's so. Guess if anythin' wus 
 wrong it wus me. Yer see, ther' ain't a heap o' fellers 
 rightly understands females. I'm most gener'ly patient. 
 Knowin' their weakness, I sez, ' Arizona, you're mud 
 when wimmin gits around. You bein' married, it's 
 your dooty to boost the gal along.' So I jest let her 
 set around an* shovel orders as though I wus the hired 
 man. Say, guess you never had a gal shovelin' orders. 
 It's real sweet to hear 'em, an' I figger they knows 
 their bizness mostly. It makes you feel as though
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 271 
 
 you'd ha'f a dozen hands an' they wus all gropin' to 
 git to work. That's how I felt, anyways. Every 
 mornin' she'd per-suade me gentle out o' bed 'fore day- 
 light, an' I'd feel like a hog fer sleepin' late. Then 
 she'd shovel the orders hansum, in a voice that 'ud 
 shame molasses. It wus allus 'dear' or 'darlin'.' 
 Fust haul water, then buck wood, light the stove, feed 
 the hogs an' chick'ns, dung out the ol' cow, fill the lamp, 
 rub down the mare, pick up the kitchen, set the clothes 
 bilin', cook the vittles, an' do a bito' washin' while she 
 turned over fer five minits. Then she'd git around, 
 mostly 'bout noon, wi' her shower o' ha'r trailin* like a 
 rain o' gold-dust, an' a natty sort o' silk fixin' which 
 she called a ' dressin'-gown,' an' she'd sot right down 
 an' eat the vittles, tellin' me o' things she wanted done 
 as she'd f ergot. Ther' wus the hen-roost wanted 
 limin', she was sure the chick'ns had the bugs, an' the 
 ol' mare's harness wanted fixin', so she could drive into 
 town ; an' the buckboard wanted washin', an' the wheels 
 greasin'. An' the seat wus kind o' hard an' wanted 
 packin' wi' a pillar. Then ther' wus the p'tater patch 
 wanted lioein', an' the cabb'ges. An' the hay-mower 
 wus to be got ready fer hayin'. She mostly drove that 
 herself, an' I 'lows I wus glad." 
 
 Arizona paused and took a fresh chew. Then he 
 went on. 
 
 " Guess you ain't never got hitched ? " 
 
 Tresler denied the impeachment. " Not yet," he said. 
 
 " Hah ! Guess it makes a heap o' difTrence." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so. Sobers a fellow. Makes him 
 feel like settling down."
 
 272 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Wai, maybe." 
 
 " And where's your wife living now ? " Tresler asked, 
 after another pause. 
 
 " Can't rightly say." There was a nasty sharpness 
 in the manner Arizona jerked his answer out. "Y' 
 see, it's this a- ways. I guess I didn't amount to a deal 
 as a married man. Leastways, that's how she got 
 nggerin' after a whiles. Guess I'dsp'iled her life some. 
 I 'lows I wus allus a mean cuss. An' she wus real 
 happy bakin' hash. Guess I druv her to drinkin' at 
 the s'loon, too, which made me hate myself wuss. Wai, 
 I jest did wot I could to smooth things an' kep goin'. 
 I got punchin' cows agin, an' give her every cent o' 
 my wages ; but it wa'n't to be." The man's voice 
 was husky, and he paused to recover himself. And 
 then hurried on as though to get the story over as soon 
 as possible. " Guess I wus out on the ' round-up ' 
 some weeks, an' then I come back to find her gone 
 plumb gone. Mebbe she'd got lonesome ; I can't say. 
 Yup, the shack wus empty, an' the buckboard gone, an' 
 the blankets, an' most o' the cookin' fixin's. It wus the 
 neighbors put me wise. Neighbors mostly puts you 
 wise. They acted friendly. Ther'd bin a feller come 
 'long from Alberta, a pretty tough Breed feller. He 
 went by the name o' ' Tough ' McCulloch." 
 
 Tresler started. But Arizona was still staring out at 
 the distant prairie, and the movement escaped him. 
 
 " Guess he'd bin around the shack a heap," he went 
 on, " an' the day 'fore I got back the two of 'em had 
 drove out wi' the buckboard loaded, takin' the trail fer 
 the hills. I put after 'em, but never found a trace. I
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 273 
 
 'lows the feller had guts. He left a message on the 
 table. It wus one o' his guns loaded. Likely you 
 won't understan', but I kep' that message. I ain't see 
 her sence. I did hear tell she wus bakin' hash agin. 
 I 'lows she could bake hash. Say, Tresler, I've lost 
 hogs, an' I've lost cows, but I'm guessin' ther' ain't 
 nothin' in the world meaner than losin' yer wife." 
 
 Tresler made no reply. What could he say ? 
 " Tough " McCulloch ! the name rang in his ears. It 
 was the name Anton had been known by in Canada. 
 He tried to think what he ought to do. Should he 
 tell Arizona? No. He dared not. Murder would 
 promptly be done, if he knew anything of the American. 
 No doubt the Breed deserved anything, but there was 
 enough savagery at Mosquito Bend without adding to 
 it. Suddenly another thought occurred to him. 
 
 " Did you know the man ? " he asked. 
 
 " Never set eyes on him. But I guess I shall some 
 day." And Tresler' s decision was irrevocably con- 
 firmed. 
 
 " And the ' gun' message?" 
 
 " Wai, it's a way they have in Texas," replied 
 Arizona. " A loaded gun is a mean sort o' challenge. 
 It's a challenge which ain't fer the present zacly. Guess 
 it holds good fer life. Et means ' on sight.' ' 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 And the rest of the journey to Willow Bluff was made 
 almost in silence. 
 
 The wonderful extent of the blind man's domain now 
 became apparent. They had traveled twenty miles 
 almost as the crow flies, and yet they had not reached
 
 274 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 its confines. As Arizona said, in response to a remark 
 from his companion, "The sky-line ain't no limit fer 
 the blind hulk's land." 
 
 Willow Bluff was, as its name described, just a big 
 bluff of woodland standing at the confluence of two 
 rivers. To the south and west it was open prairie. 
 The place consisted of a small shack, and a group of 
 large pine-log corrals capable of housing a thousand 
 head of stock. And as the men came up they saw, 
 scattered over the adjacent prairie, the peacefully graz- 
 ing beeves which were to be their charge. 
 
 " A pretty bunch," observed Arizona. 
 
 " Yes, and a pretty place for a raid." 
 
 At that moment the doings of the raiders were upper- 
 most in Tresler's mind. 
 
 Then they proceeded to take possession. They 
 found Jim Henderson, a mean looking Breed boy, in 
 the shack, and promptly set him to work to clean it out. 
 It was not a bad place, but the boys had let it get into 
 a filthy condition, in the customary manner of all half- 
 breeds. However, this they quickly remedied, and 
 Tresler saw quite a decent prospect of comfort for their 
 stay there. 
 
 Arizona said very little while there was work to be 
 done. And his companion was astonished, even though 
 he knew him so well, at his capacity and forethought. 
 Evening was the most important time, and here the 
 cattleman stood out a master of his craft. The beeves 
 had to be corralled every night. There must be no 
 chance of straying, since they were sold, and liable for 
 transport at any moment. This work, and the task of
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 275 
 
 counting, demanded all the cattleman's skill. Bands 
 of fifty were rounded up, cut out from the rest, and 
 quietly brought in. When each corral was filled, and 
 the whole herd accommodated for the night, a supply 
 of fresh young hay was thrown to them to keep them 
 occupied during their few remaining hours of waking. 
 Arizona was a giant at the work ; and to see his lithe, 
 lean body swaying this way and that, as he swung his 
 well-trained pony around the ambling herd, his arms 
 and " rope " and voice at work, was to understand 
 something of the wild life that claimed him, and the 
 wild, untrained nature which was his. 
 
 The last corral was fastened up, and then, but not 
 until then, the two friends took leisure. 
 
 " Wai," said Arizona, as they stood leaning against 
 the bars of the biggest corral, " guess ther's goin' to be 
 a night-guard ?" 
 
 " Yes. These boys are smart enough lads, it seems. 
 We'll let them take two hours about up to midnight 
 You and I will do the rest." 
 
 " An' the hull lot of us'll sleep round the corrals ? " 
 
 "That's it." 
 
 "An' the hosses?" 
 
 " We'll keep them saddled." 
 
 "An* the sheriff's fellers?" 
 
 " That I can't say. We're not likely to see them, 
 anyway." 
 
 And so the plans were arranged, simple, even hope- 
 less in construction. Two men, for they could not 
 depend on the half-breeds, to face possibly any odds 
 should the raider choose this spot for attack. But how-
 
 276 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 ever inadequate the guard, there was something morally 
 strong in the calm, natural manner of its arranging-. 
 These two knew that in case of trouble they had only 
 themselves to depend on. Yet neither hesitated, or 
 balked at the undertaking. Possibilities never entered 
 into their calculations. 
 
 The first and second night produced no alarm. Nor 
 did they receive any news of a disturbing nature. On 
 the third day Jacob Smith rode into their camp. He 
 was a patrol guard, on a visiting tour of the outlying 
 stations. His news was peaceful enough. 
 
 " I don't care a cuss how long the old man keeps the 
 funks," he said, with a cheery laugh. " I give it you 
 right here, this job's a snap. I ride around like a 
 gen'l spyin' fer enemies. Guess Red Mask has his 
 uses." 
 
 "So's most folk," responded Arizona, "but 'tain't 
 allus easy to locate." 
 
 " Wai, I guess I ken locate his jest about now. I'm 
 sort o' lyin' fallow, which ain't usual on Skitter Bend." 
 
 " Guess not. He's servin' us difFrent." 
 
 " Ah ! Doin' night-guard ? Say, I'd see blind hulk 
 roastin' 'fore I'd hang on to them beasties. But it's 
 like you, Arizona. You hate him wuss'n hell, an' Jake 
 too, yet you'd pshaw ! So long. Guess I'd best get 
 on. I've got nigh forty miles to do 'fore I git back." 
 
 And he rode away, careless, thoughtless, in the midst 
 of a very real danger. And it was the life they all led. 
 They asked for a wage, a bunk, and grub ; nothing else 
 mattered. 
 
 Tresler had developed a feeling that the whole thing
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 277 
 
 was a matter of form rather than dead earnest, that he 
 had been precipitate in sending his message to the 
 sheriff. He wanted to get back to the ranch. He 
 understood only too well how he had furthered Jake's 
 projects, and cursed himself bitterly for having been so 
 easily duped. He was comfortably out of the way, 
 and the foreman would take particularly good care that 
 he should remain so as long as possible. Arizona, too, 
 had become anything but enlivening. He went about 
 morosely and snapped villainously at the boys. There 
 was no word in answer to the message to the sheriff. 
 They daily searched the bluff for some sign, but with- 
 out result, and Tresler was rather glad than disappointed, 
 while Arizona seemed utterly without opinion on the 
 matter. 
 
 The third night produced a slight shock for Tresler. 
 It was midnight, and one of the boys roused him for 
 his watch. He sat up, and, to his astonishment, found 
 Arizona sitting on a log beside him. He waited until 
 the boy had gone to turn in, then he looked at his friend 
 inquiringly. 
 
 " What's up ? ' 
 
 And Arizona's reply fairly staggered him. " Say, 
 Tresler," he said, in a tired voice, utterly unlike his 
 usual forceful manner, " I jest wanted to ast you to 
 change ' watches' wi' me. I've kind o' lost my grip on 
 sleep. Mebbe I'm weak'nin' some. I 'lows I'm li'ble 
 to git sleepy later on, an' I tho't, mebbe, ef I wus to do 
 the fust watch wal, y' see, I guess that plug in my 
 chest ain't done me a heap o' good." 
 
 Tresler was on his feet in an instant. It had sud-
 
 278 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 denly dawned on him that this queer son of the prairie 
 was ill. 
 
 " Rot, man ! " he exclaimed. His tone in no way hid 
 his alarm. They were at the gate of the big corral, 
 hidden in the shadow cast by the high wall of lateral 
 logs. "You go and turn in. I'm going to watch til) 
 daylight." 
 
 " Say, that's real friendly," observed the other, im- 
 perturbably. " But it ain't no use. Guess I couldn't 
 sleep yet." 
 
 " Well, please yourself. I'm going to watch till day- 
 light." Tresler's manner was quietly decided, and 
 Arizona seemed to accept it. 
 
 " Wai, ef it hits you that a-ways I'll jest set around 
 till I git sleepy." 
 
 Tresler's alarm was very real, but he shrugged with 
 a great assumption of indifference and moved off to 
 make a round of the corrals, carefully hugging the 
 shadow of the walls as he went. After a while he re- 
 turned to his post. Arizona was still sitting where he 
 had left him. 
 
 There was a silence for a few minutes. Then the 
 American quietly drew his revolver and spun the 
 chambers round. Tresler watched him, and the other, 
 looking up, caught his eye. 
 
 " Guess these things is kind o' tricksy," he observed, 
 in explanation, " I got it jammed oncet. It's a decent 
 weapon but noo, an' I ain't fer noo fixin's. This 
 hyar," he went on, drawing a second one from its 
 holster, " is a ' six ' an' 'ud drop an ox at fifty. Ha'r 
 trigger too. It's a dandy. Guess it wus ' Tough '
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 279 
 
 McCulloch's. Guess you ain't got yours on your 
 hip?" 
 
 Tresler shook his head. " No, I use the belt for my 
 breeches, and keep the guns loose in my pockets when 
 I'm not riding." 
 
 " Wrong. Say, fix 'em right. You take a sight too 
 many chances." 
 
 Tresler laughingly complied " I'm not likely to 
 need them, but still " 
 
 "Nope." Arizona returned his guns to their resting- 
 place. Then he looked up. " Say, guess I kind o' 
 fixed the hosses diff'rent. Our hosses. Bro't 'em up 
 an' stood 'em in the angle wher' this corral joins the 
 next one. Seems better ; more handy-like. It's 
 sheltered, an' ther's a bit of a sharp breeze. One o' 
 them early frosts." He looked up at the sky. 
 " Guess ther' didn't ought. Ther' ain't no moon till 
 nigh on daylight. Howsum, ther' ain't no argyin' the 
 weather." 
 
 Tresler was watching his comrade closely. There 
 was something peculiar in his manner. He seemed al- 
 most fanciful, yet there was a wonderful alertness in the 
 rapidity of his talk. He remained silent, and, presently, 
 the other went on again, but he had switched off to a 
 fresh topic. 
 
 " Say, I never ast you how you figgered to settle wi' 
 Jake," he said. " I guess it'll be all "he broke off, 
 and glanced out prairieward, but went on almost im- 
 mediately, " a settlin'. I've seen you kind o' riled. 
 And I've seen Jake." He stood up and peered into the 
 darkness while he talked in his even monotone.
 
 280 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Yup," he went on, " ther's ways o' dealin' wi' men 
 an' ways. Guess, now, ef you wus dealin' wi' an 
 honest citizen you'd jest talk him fair. Mind, I figger 
 to know you a heap." His eyes suddenly turned on 
 the man he was addressing, but returned almost at 
 once to their earnest contemplation of the black vista of 
 grass-land. " You'd argy the point reas'nable, an' 
 leave the gal to settle for you. But wi' Jake it's diff- 
 'rent." His hand slowly went round to his right hip, 
 and suddenly he turned on his friend with a look of 
 desperate meaning. " D'you know what it'll be 'tween 
 you two? This is what it means ; " and he whipped 
 out the heavy six that had once been " Tough " 
 McCulloch's, and leveled it at arm's length out prairie- 
 ward. Tresler thought it was coming at him, and 
 sprang back, while Arizona laughed. " This is what 
 it'll be. You'll take a careful aim, an' if you've friends 
 around they'll see fair play, sure. I guess they'll count 
 ' three ' for you, so. Jest one, two, an' you'll both fire 
 on the last, so. Three ! " 
 
 There was a flash, and a sharp report, and then a 
 cry split the still night air. Tresler sprang at the man 
 whom he now believed was mad, but the cry stayed 
 him, and the next moment he felt the grip of Arizona's 
 sinewy hand on his arm, and was being dragged round 
 the corral as the sound of horses' hoofs came thunder- 
 ing toward him. 
 
 "It's them!" 
 
 It was the only explanation Arizona vouchsafed. 
 They reached the horses and both sprang into the sad- 
 dle, and the American's voice whispered hoarsely
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 281 
 
 " Bend low. Guess these walls '11 save us, an' we've 
 got a sheer sight o' all the corral gates. Savee ? 
 Shoot careful, an' aim true. An' watch out on the bluff. 
 The sheriff's around." 
 
 And now the inexperienced Tresler saw the whole 
 scheme. The masterly generalship of his comrade 
 filled him with admiration. And he had thought him 
 ill, his brain turned ! For some reason he believed 
 the raiders were approaching, but not being absolutely 
 sure, he had found an excuse for not turning in as 
 usual, and cloaked all his suspicions for fear of giving 
 a false alarm. And their present position was one of 
 carefully considered strategy ; the only possible one 
 from which they could hope to achieve any advantage, 
 for, sheltered, they yet had every gate of the corrals 
 within gunshot. 
 
 But there was little time for reflection or speculation. 
 If the sheriff's men came, well and good. In the mean- 
 time a crowd of a dozen men had charged down upon 
 the corrals, a silent, ghostly band ; the only noise they 
 made was the clatter of their horses' hoofs. 
 
 Both men, watching, were lying over their horses' 
 necks. Arizona was the first to shoot. Again his gun 
 belched a death-dealing shot. Tresler saw one figure 
 reel and fall with a groan. Then his own gun was 
 heard. His aim was less effective, and only brought a 
 volley in reply from the raiders. That volley was the 
 signal for the real battle to begin. The ambush of the 
 two defenders was located, and the rustlers divided, 
 and came sweeping round to the attack. 
 
 But Arizona was ready. Both horses wheeled round
 
 282 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 and raced out of their improvised fort, and Tresler, 
 following the keen-witted man, appreciated his re- 
 source as he darted into another angle between two 
 other corrals. The darkness favored them, and the 
 rustlers swept by. Arizona only waited long enough 
 for them to get well clear, then his gun rang out again, 
 and Tresler's too. But the game was played out. A 
 straggler sighted them and gave the alarm, and in- 
 stantly the rest took up the chase. 
 
 " Round the corrals ! " 
 
 As he spoke Arizona turned in his saddle and fired 
 into the mob. A perfect hail of shots replied, and the 
 bullets came singing all round them. He was as cool 
 and deliberate as though he were hunting jack-rabbits. 
 Tresler joined him in a fresh fusillade, and two more 
 saddles were emptied, but the next moment a gasp 
 told Arizona that his comrade was hit, and he turned 
 only just in time to prevent him reeling out of the sad- 
 dle. 
 
 " Hold up, boy ! " he cried. " Kep your saddle if 
 hell's let loose. I'll kep 'em busy." 
 
 And the wounded man, actuated by a similar spirit, 
 sat bolt upright, while the two horses sped on. They 
 were round at the front again. But though Arizona 
 was as good as his word, and his gun was emptied 
 and reloaded and emptied again, it was a hopeless con- 
 test hopeless from the beginning. Tresler was bleed- 
 ing seriously from a wound in his neck, and his aim 
 was becoming more and more uncertain. But his will 
 was fighting hard for mastery over his bodily weak- 
 ness. Just as they headed again toward the bluff,
 
 AT WILLOW BLUFF 283 
 
 Arizona gave a great yank at his reins and his pony 
 was thrown upon its haunches. The Lady Jezebel, too, 
 as though working in concert with her mate, suddenly 
 stopped dead. 
 
 The cause of the cowpuncher's action was a solitary 
 horseman standing right ahead of them gazing out at 
 the bluff. The plainsman's gun was up in an instant, 
 in spite of the pursuers behind. Death was in his eye 
 as he took aim, but at that instant there was a shout 
 from the bluff, and the cry was taken up behind him 
 " Sheriff's posse ! " That cry lost him his chance of 
 fetching Red Mask down. Before he could let the 
 hammer of his gun fall, the horseman had wheeled 
 about and vanished in the darkness. 
 
 Simultaneously the pursuers swung out, turned, and 
 the next moment were in full retreat under a perfect 
 hail of carbine-fire from the sheriff's men. 
 
 And as the latter followed in hot pursuit, Arizona 
 hailed them 
 
 " You've missed him ; he's taken the river-bank for it. 
 It's Red Mask ! I see him." 
 
 But now Tresler needed all his friend's attention. 
 Arizona saw him fall forward and lie clinging to his 
 saddle-horn. He sprang to his aid, and, dismounting, 
 lifted him gently to the ground. Then he turned his 
 own horse loose, leading the Lady Jezebel while he sup- 
 ported the sick man up to the shack. 
 
 Here his patient fainted dead away, but he was equal 
 to the emergency. He examined the wound, and 
 found an ugly rent in the neck, whence the blood was 
 pumping slowly. He saw at once that a small artery
 
 284 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 had been severed, and its adjacency to the jugular 
 made it a matter of extreme danger. His medical 
 skill was small, but he contrived to wash and bind the 
 wound roughly. Then he quietly reloaded his guns, 
 and, with the aid of a stiff horn of whisky, roused some 
 life in his patient. He knew it would only be a feeble 
 flicker, but while it lasted he wanted to get him on to 
 the Lady Jezebel's back. 
 
 This he contrived after considerable difficulty. The 
 mare resented the double burden, as was only to be ex- 
 pected. But the cowpuncher was desperate and knew 
 how to handle her. 
 
 None but Arizona would have attempted such a feat 
 with a horse of her description ; but he must have speed 
 if he was going to save his friend's life, and he knew 
 she could give it.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WHAT LOVE WILL DO 
 
 DAYLIGHT was breaking when the jaded Lady 
 Jezebel and her double freight raced into the ranch. 
 The mare had done the journey in precisely two hours 
 and a quarter. Arizona galloped her up to the house 
 and rounded the lean-to in which Joe slept. Then he 
 pulled up and shouted. Just then he had no thought 
 for the rancher or Jake. He had thought for no one 
 but Tresler. 
 
 His third shout brought Joe tumbling out of his bed. 
 
 " Say, I've got a mighty sick man here," he cried, 
 directly he heard the choreman moving. " Git around 
 an* lend a hand ; gentle, too." 
 
 "That you, Arizona?" Joe, half awake, questioned, 
 blinking up at the horseman in the faint light 
 
 " I guess ; an' say, 'fore I git answerin' no fool ques- 
 tions, git a holt on this notion. Red Mask's bin around 
 Willow Bluff, an' Tresler's done up. Savee?" 
 
 " Tresler, did you say ? " asked a girl's voice from 
 the kitchen doorway. " Wounded ? " 
 
 There was a world of fear in the questions, which 
 were scarcely above a whisper. 
 
 Arizona was lifting Tresler down into Joe's arms. " I 
 'lows I didn't know you wus ther', missie," he replied, 
 without turning from his task. " Careful, Joe ; easy
 
 286 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 easy now. He's dreadful sick, I guess. Yes, missie, 
 it's him. They've kind o' scratched him some. 
 'Tain't nothin' to gas about ; jest barked his neck. 
 Kind o' needs a bit o' band'ge. Gorl durn you, Joe ! 
 Git your arm under his shoulders an' kep his head 
 steady ; he'll git bleedin' to death ef y' ain't careful. 
 Quiet, you jade ! " he cried fiercely, to the mare whom 
 Diane had frightened with her white robe as she came 
 to help. " No, missie, not you," Arizona exclaimed. 
 " He's all blood an' mussed up." Then he discovered 
 that she had little on but a night-dress. " Gee ! but you 
 ain't wropped up, missie. Jest git right in. Wai," as 
 she deliberately proceeded to help the struggling Joe, 
 " ef you will ; but Joe ken do it, I guess. Ther', that's 
 it. I ken git off'n this crazy slut of a mare now." 
 
 Directly Arizona had quit the saddle he relieved 
 Diane, and, with the utmost gentleness, started to take 
 the sick man into the lean-to. But the girl protested 
 at once. 
 
 " Not in there," she said sharply. " Take him into 
 the house. I'll go and fix a bed up-stairs. Bring him 
 through the kitchen." 
 
 She spoke quite calmly. Too calmly, Joe thought. 
 
 " To that house ? " Arizona protested. 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course." Then the passion of grief 
 let itself loose, and Diane cried, "And why not? 
 Where else should he go ? He belongs to me. Why 
 do you stand there like an imbecile ? Take him at 
 once. Oh, Jack, Jack, why don't you speak? Oh, 
 take him quickly ! You said he would bleed to death. 
 He isn't dead ? No, tell me he isn't dead ? "
 
 WHAT LOVE WILL DO 287 
 
 " Dead ? Dead ? Ha, ha ! " Arizona threw all the 
 scorn he was capable of into the words, and laughed 
 with funereal gravity. " Say, that's real good real 
 good. Him dead ? Wai, I guess not. Pshaw ! Say, 
 missie, you ain't ast after my health, an' I'm guessin' I 
 oughter be sicker'n him, wi' that mare o' his. Say, 
 jest git right ahead an' fix that bunk fer him, like the 
 daisy gal you are. What about bl your father, 
 missie?" 
 
 " Never mind father. Come along." 
 
 The man's horse-like attempt at lightness had its ef- 
 fect. The girl pulled herself together. She realized 
 the emergency. She knew that Tresler needed her 
 help. Arizona's manner had only emphasized the 
 gravity of his case. 
 
 She ran on ahead, and the other, bearing the uncon- 
 scious man, followed. 
 
 11 Never mind father," Arizona muttered doubtfully. 
 " Wai, here goes." Then he called back to Joe : " Git 
 around that mare an' sling the saddle on a fresh plug ; 
 guess I'll need it." 
 
 He passed through the kitchen, and stepping into 
 the hall he was startled by the apparition of the blind 
 man standing in the doorway of his bedroom. He 
 was clad in his customary dressing-gown, and his eyes 
 glowed ruddily in the light of the kitchen lamp. 
 
 " What's this?" he asked sharply. 
 
 " Tresler's bin done up," Arizona replied at once. 
 " Guess the gang got around Willow Bluff God's 
 curse light on 'em ! " 
 
 " Hah ! And where are you taking him ? "
 
 288 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Up-sta'rs," was the brief reply. Then the cow- 
 puncher bethought him of his duty to his employer. 
 " Guess the cattle are safe, fer which you ken thank the 
 sheriff's gang. Miss Dianny's hustlin' a bunk fer him," 
 he added. 
 
 In spite of his usual assurance, Arizona never felt 
 easy with this man. Now the rancher's manner de- 
 cidedly thawed. 
 
 "Yes, yes," he said gently. "Take the poor boy 
 up-stairs. You'd better go for the doctor. You can 
 give me the details afterward." 
 
 He turned back into his room, and the other passed 
 up the stairs. 
 
 He laid the sick man on the bed, and pointed out to 
 the girl the bandage on his neck, advising, in his prac- 
 tical fashion, its readjustment. Then he went swiftly 
 from the house and rode into Forks for Doc. Osier, the 
 veterinary surgeon, the only available medical man in 
 that part of the country. 
 
 When Diane found herself alone with the man she 
 loved stretched out before her, inert, like one dead, her 
 first inclination was to sit down and weep for him. 
 She could face her own troubles with a certain forti- 
 tude, but to see this strong man laid low, perhaps dy- 
 ing, was a different thing, and her womanly weakness 
 was near to overcoming her. But though the unshed 
 tears filled her eyes, her love brought its courage to her 
 aid, and she approached the task Arizona had pointed 
 out. 
 
 With deft fingers she removed the sodden bandage, 
 through which the blood was slowly oozing. The
 
 WHAT LOVE WILL DO 289 
 
 flow, which at once began again, alarmed her, and set 
 her swiftly to work. Now she understood as well as 
 Arizona did what was amiss. She hurried out to her 
 own room, and returned quickly with materials for re- 
 bandaging, and her arms full of clothes. Then, with 
 the greatest care, she proceeded to bind up the neck, 
 placing a cork on the artery below the severance. This 
 she strapped down so tightly that, for the time at least, 
 the bleeding was staunched. Her object accomplished, 
 she proceeded to dress herself ready for the doctor's 
 coming. 
 
 She had taken her place at the bedside, and was 
 meditating on what further could be done for her 
 patient, when an event happened on which she had in 
 nowise reckoned. Somebody was ascending the stair 
 with the shuffling gait of one feeling his way. It was 
 her father. The first time within her memory that he 
 had visited the upper part of the house. 
 
 A look of alarm leapt into her eyes as she gazed at 
 the door, watching for his coming, and she realized 
 only too well the possibilities of the situation. What 
 would he say ? What would he do ? 
 
 A moment later she was facing him with calm cour- 
 age. Her fears had been stifled by the knowledge of 
 her lover's helplessness. One look at his dear, uncon- 
 scious form had done for her what nothing else could 
 have done. Her filial duty went out like a candle 
 snuffed with wet fingers. There was not even a spark 
 left. 
 
 Julian Marbolt stepped across the threshold, and his 
 head slowly moved round as though to ascertain in
 
 290 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 what direction his daughter was sitting. The oil- 
 lamp seemed to attract his blind attention, and his 
 eyes fixed themselves upon it ; but for a moment 
 only. Then they passed on until they settled on the 
 girl. 
 
 " Where is he ? " he asked coldly. " I can hear you 
 breathing. Is he dead ? " 
 
 Diane sprang up and bent over her patient. " No," 
 she said, half fearing that her father's inquiry was 
 prophetic. " He is unconscious from loss of blood. 
 Arizona " 
 
 " Tchah ! Arizona ! I want to talk to you. Here, 
 give me your hand and lead me to the bedside. I will 
 sit here. This place is unfamiliar." 
 
 Diane did as she was bid. She was pale. A strained 
 look was in her soft brown eyes, but there was deter- 
 mination in the set of her lips. 
 
 "What is the matter with you, girl?" her father 
 asked. The softness of his speech in no way disguised 
 the iciness of his manner. " You're shaking." 
 
 "There's nothing the matter with me," she replied 
 pointedly. 
 
 " Ah, thinking of him." His hand reached out until 
 it rested on one of Tresler's legs. His remark seemed 
 to require no answer, and a silence fell while Diane 
 watched the eyes so steadily directed upon the sick 
 man. Presently he went on. " These men have done 
 well. They have saved the cattle. Arizona mentioned 
 the sheriff. I don't know much about it yet, but it 
 seems to me this boy must have contrived their assist- 
 ance. Smart work, if he did so."
 
 WHAT LOVE WILL DO 291 
 
 " Yes, father, and brave," added the girl in a low 
 tone. 
 
 His words had raised hope within her. But with his 
 next he dashed it. 
 
 "Brave? It was his duty," he snapped, resentful 
 immediately. The red eyes were turned upon his 
 daughter, and she fancied she saw something utterly 
 cruel in their painful depths. " You are uncommonly 
 interested," he went on slowly. " I was warned before 
 that he and you were too thick. I told you of it cau- 
 tioned you. Isn't that sufficient, or have I to " 
 
 He left his threat unfinished. 
 
 A color flushed slowly into Diane's cheeks and her 
 eyes sparkled. 
 
 " No, it isn't sufficient, father. You have no right 
 to stop me speaking to Mr. Tresler. I have bowed to 
 your decision with regard to the other men on the 
 ranch. There, perhaps, you had a right a parent's 
 right. But it is different with Mr. Tresler. He is a 
 gentleman. As for character, you yourself admit it is 
 unimpeachable. Then what right have you to refuse 
 to allow me even speech with him? It is absurd, 
 tyrannical ; and I refuse to obey you." 
 
 The frowning brows drew sharply down over the 
 man's eyes. And Diane understood the sudden rising 
 of storm behind the mask-like face. She waited with 
 a desperate calmness. It was the moral bravery 
 prompted by her new-born love. 
 
 But the storm held off, controlled by that indomitable 
 will which made Julian Marbolt an object of fear to all 
 who came into contact with him.
 
 292 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " You are an ungrateful girl, a foolish girl," he said 
 quietly. " You are ungrateful that you refuse to obey 
 me ; and foolish, that you think to marry him." 
 
 Diane sprang to her feet. " I how " 
 
 " Tut ! Do not protest. I know you have promised 
 to be his wife. If you denied it you would lie." He 
 sat for a moment enjoying the girl's discomfort. Then 
 he went on, with a cruel smile about his lips as she re- 
 turned to her seat with a movement that was almost a 
 collapse. " That's better," he said, following her action 
 by means of his wonderful instinct. " Now let us be 
 sensible very sensible." 
 
 His tone had become persuasive, such as might have 
 been used to a child, and the girl wondered what 
 further cruelty it masked. She had not long to wait. 
 
 " You are going to give up this madness," he said 
 coldly. " You will show yourself amenable to reason 
 my reason or I shall enforce my demands in an- 
 other way." 
 
 The girl's exasperation was growing with each mo- 
 ment, but she kept silence, waiting for him to finish. 
 
 "You will never marry this man," he went on, with 
 quiet emphasis. " Nor any other man while I live. 
 There is no marriage for you, my girl. There can be 
 no marriage for you. And the more ' unimpeachable ' 
 a man's character the less the possibility." 
 
 " I don't pretend to understand you," Diane replied, 
 with a coldness equal to her father's own. 
 
 " No ; perhaps you don't." The man chuckled 
 fiendishly. 
 
 Tears sprang into the girl's eyes. She could no
 
 WHAT LOVE WILL DO 293 
 
 longer check them. And with them came the protest 
 that she was also powerless to withhold. 
 
 " Why may I not marry ? Why can I not marry ? 
 Surely I can claim the right of every woman to marry 
 the rnan of her choice. I know you have no good will 
 for me, father. Why, I cannot understand. I have 
 always obeyed you ; I have ever striven to do my duty. 
 If there has never been any great affection displayed, 
 it is not my fault. For, ever since I can remember, 
 you have done your best to kill the love I would have 
 given you. How have I been ungrateful ? What 
 have I to be grateful for ? I cannot remember one 
 single kindness you have ever shown me. You have 
 set up a barrier between me and the world outside this 
 ranch. I am a prisoner here. Why ? Am I so hate- 
 ful ? Have I no claims on your toleration ? Am I not 
 your own flesh and blood ? " 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 The man's answer came with staggering force. It 
 was the bursting of the storm of passion, which even 
 his will could no longer restrain. But it was the whole 
 storm, for he went no further. It was Diane who spoke 
 next. Her cheeks had assumed an ashen hue, and her 
 lips trembled so that she could scarcely frame her 
 words. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she gasped. 
 
 " Tut ! Your crazy obstinacy drives me to it," her 
 father answered impatiently, but with perfect control. 
 " Oh, you need have no fear. There is no legal shame 
 to you. But there is that which will hit you harder, I 
 think."
 
 294 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Father ! What are you saying ? " 
 
 Something of the man's meaning was growing upon 
 her. Old hints and innuendoes against her mother 
 were recalled by his words. Her throat parched while 
 she watched the relentless face of this man who was 
 still her father. 
 
 " Saying ? You know the story of my blindness. 
 You know I spent three years visiting nearly every 
 eye-doctor in Europe. But what you don't know, and 
 shall know, is that I returned home to Jamaica at the 
 end of that time to find myself the father of a three- 
 days'-old baby girl." The man's teeth were clenched, 
 rage and pain distorted his face, rendering his sightless 
 stare a hideous thing. " Yes," he went on, but now 
 more to himself, " I returned home to that, and in time 
 to hear the last words your mother uttered in life ; in 
 time to feel feel her death-struggles." He mouthed his 
 words with unmistakable relish, and relapsed into silence. 
 
 Diane fell back with a bitter cry. The cry roused 
 her father. 
 
 " Well ? " he continued. " You'll give this man up 
 now ? " 
 
 For some minutes there was no answer. The girl 
 sat like a statue carved in dead white stone ; and the 
 expression of her face was as stony as the mould of her 
 features. Her blood was chilled ; her brain refused its 
 office ; and her heart it was as though that fount of 
 life lay crushed within her bosom. Even the man 
 lying sick on the bed beside her had no meaning for her. 
 
 " Well ? " her father demanded impatiently. " You 
 are going to give Tresler up now ? "
 
 WHAT LOVE WILL DO 295 
 
 She heard him this time. With a rush everything 
 came to her, and a feeling of utter helplessness swept 
 over her. Oh, the shame of it ! Suddenly she flung 
 forward on the bed and sobbed her heart out beside the 
 man she must give up. He had been the one bright 
 ray in the dull gray of her life. His love, come so 
 quickly, so suddenly, to her had leavened the memory 
 of her unloved years. Their recollection had been 
 thrust into the background to give place to the sun- 
 shine of a precious first love. And now it must all go. 
 There was no other course open to her, she told her- 
 self ; and in this decision was revealed her father's 
 consummate devilishness. He understood her straight- 
 forward pride, if he had no appreciation of it. Then, 
 suddenly, there came a feeling of resentment and 
 hatred for the author of her misfortune, and she sat up 
 with the tears only half dry on her cheeks. Her fa- 
 ther's dead eyes were upon her, and their hateful depths 
 seemed to be searching her. She knew she must sub- 
 mit to his will. He mastered her as he mastered 
 everybody else. 
 
 " It is not what I will," she said, in a low voice. "I 
 understand ; our lives must remain apart." Then 
 anger brought harshness into her tone. "I would 
 have given him up of my own accord had I known. I 
 could not have thrust the shame of my birth upon him. 
 But you you have kept this from me all these years, 
 saving it, in your heartless way, for such a moment as 
 this. Why have you told me? Why do you keep me 
 at your side ? Oh, I hate you ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course you do," her father said, quite
 
 296 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 unmoved by her attack. " Now you are tasting some- 
 thing only something of the bitterness of my life. 
 And it is good that you should. The parent's sins 
 the children. Yes, you certainly can feel " 
 
 " For heaven's sake leave me ! " the girl broke in, 
 unable to stand the taunting the hideous enjoyment 
 of the man. 
 
 "Not yet; I haven't done. This man " The 
 
 rancher leant over the bed, and one hand felt its way 
 over Tresler's body until it rested over his heart. " At 
 one time I was glad he came here. I had reasons. 
 His money was as good as in my pocket. He would 
 have bought stock from me at a goodish profit. Now 
 I have changed my mind. I would sacrifice that. It 
 would be better perhaps perhaps. No, he is not dead 
 yet. But he may die, eh, Diane ? It would be better 
 were he to die ; it would save your explanation to him. 
 Yes, let him die. You are not going to marry him. 
 You would not care to see him marry another, as, of 
 course, he will. Let him die. Love ? Love ? Why, 
 it would be kindness to yourselves. Yes, let him die." 
 
 " You you wretch ! " Diane was on her feet, and 
 her eyes blazed down upon the cruel, working face be- 
 fore her. The cry was literally wrung from her. "And 
 that is the man who was ready to give his life for your 
 interests. That is the man whose cleverness and 
 bravery you even praised. You want me to refuse 
 him the trifling aid I can give him. You are a mon- 
 ster ! You have parted us, but it is not sufficient ; you 
 want his life." 
 
 She suddenly bent over and seized her father's hand,
 
 WHAT LOVE WILL DO 297 
 
 where it rested upon Tresler's heart, and dragged it 
 away. 
 
 "Take your hand off him; don't touch him!" she 
 cried in a frenzy. " You are not " 
 
 But she got no further. The lean, sinewy hand had 
 closed over hers, and held them both as in a vice ; and 
 the pressure made her cry out. 
 
 " Listen ! " he said fiercely. He, too, was standing 
 now, and his tall figure dwarfed hers. " He is to be 
 moved out of here. I will have Jake to see to it in the 
 morning. And you shall know what it is to thwart 
 me if you dare to interfere." 
 
 He abruptly released her hands and turned away ; 
 but he shot round again as he heard her reply. 
 
 " I shall nurse him," she said. 
 
 " You will not." 
 
 The girl laughed hysterically. The scene had been 
 too much for her, and she was on the verge of break- 
 ing down. 
 
 " We shall see," she cried after him, as he passed 
 out of the room. 
 
 The whole ranch was astir when Arizona returned 
 with Doc. Osier. Nor did they come alone. Fyles 
 had met them on the trail. He had just returned from 
 a fruitless pursuit of the raiders. He had personally 
 endeavored to track Red Mask, but the rustler had 
 evaded him in the thick bush that lined the river ; and 
 his men had been equally unsuccessful with the rest of 
 the band. The hills had been their goal, and they had 
 made it through the excellence of their horses. Al- 
 though the pursuers were well mounted their horses
 
 298 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 were heavier, and lost ground hopelessly in the midst 
 of the broken land of the foot-hills. 
 
 Jake was closeted with the rancher at the coming of 
 the doctor and his companions ; but their confabula- 
 tion was brought to an abrupt termination at once. 
 
 The doctor went to the wounded man, who still re- 
 mained unconscious, while Fyles joined the rancher 
 and his foreman in a discussion of the night's doings. 
 And while these things were going on Arizona and Joe 
 shared the hospitality of the lean-to. 
 
 The meeting in the rancher's den had not proceeded 
 far when a summons from up-stairs cut it short. Diane 
 brought a message from the doctor asking her father 
 and the sheriff to join him. Marbolt displayed unusual 
 alacrity, and Fyles followed him as he tapped his way 
 up to the sick-room. Here the stick was abandoned, 
 and he was led to his seat by his daughter. Diane was 
 pale, but alert and determined ; while her father wore a 
 gentle look of the utmost concern. The doctor was 
 standing beside the window gazing out over the pas- 
 tures, but he turned at once as they came in. 
 
 " A nasty case, Mr. Marbolt," he said, the moment 
 the rancher had taken up his position. " A very nasty 
 case." He was a brusque little man with a pair of keen 
 black eyes, which he turned on the blind man curiously. 
 " An artery cut by bullet. Small artery. Your daugh- 
 ter most cleverly stopped bleeding. Many thanks to 
 her. Patient lost gallons of blood. Precarious posi- 
 tion very. No danger from wound now. Exhaus- 
 tion only. Should he bleed again death. But he 
 won't ; artery tied up securely. Miss Marbolt says
 
 WHAT LOVE WILL DO 299 
 
 you desire patient removed to usual quarters. I 
 say nol Remove him artery break afresh death. 
 Sheriff, I order distinctly this man remains where he 
 is. Am I right? Have I right?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly." Then Fyles turned upon the blind 
 man. " His orders are your law, Mr. Marbolt," he said. 
 " And you, of course, will be held responsible for any 
 violation of them." 
 
 The blind man nodded in acquiescence. 
 
 " Good," said the doctor, rubbing his hands. " Noth- 
 ing more for me now. Return to-morrow. Miss Mar- 
 bolt, admirable nurse. Wish I was patient. He will 
 be about again in two weeks. Artery small. Health 
 good young. Oh, yes, no fear. Only exhaustion. 
 Hope you catch villains. Good-morning. Might have 
 severed jugular near shave." 
 
 Doc. Osier bowed to the girl and passed out mutter- 
 ing, "Capital nurse beautiful." His departure brought 
 the rancher to his feet, and he groped his way to the 
 door. As he passed his daughter he paused and 
 gently patted her on the back. 
 
 " Ah, child," he said, with a world of tolerant kind- 
 ness in his voice, "I still think you are wrong. Pie 
 would have been far better in his own quarters, his 
 familiar surroundings, and amongst his friends. You 
 are quite inexperienced, and these men understand 
 bullet wounds as well as any doctor. However, have 
 your way. I hope you won't have cause to regret it." 
 
 " All right, father," Diane replied, without turning 
 her eyes from the contemplation of her sick lover. 
 
 And Fyles, standing at the foot of the bed watching
 
 300 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 the scene, speculated shrewdly as to the relations in 
 which the girl and her patient stood, and the possible 
 parental disapproval of the same. Certainly he had no 
 idea of the matters which had led up to the necessity 
 for his official services to enforce the doctor's orders.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE LIGHTED LAMP 
 
 DlANE was by no means satisfied with her small 
 victory. She had gained her point, it is true, but she 
 had gained it by means which gave no promise of a 
 happy outcome to her purpose. 
 
 Left alone with her patient she had little to do but 
 reflect on her position, and her thoughts brought her 
 many a sigh, much heart-racking and anxiety. For 
 herself she allowed little thought. Her mind was made 
 up as to her future. Her love was to be snatched away 
 while yet the first sweet glamour of it was upon her. 
 Every hope, every little castle she had raised in her 
 maiden thoughts, had been ruthlessly shattered, and 
 the outlook of her future was one dull gray vista of 
 hopelessness. It was the old order accentuated, and 
 the pain of it gripped her heart with every moment she 
 gave to its contemplation. Happily the life she had 
 lived had strengthened her ; she was not the girl to 
 weep at every ill that befell. The first shock had 
 driven her to tears, but that had passed. She was of a 
 nature that can suffer bravely, and face the world dry- 
 eyed, gently, keeping the bitterness of her lot to her- 
 self, and hiding her own pain under an earnest attempt 
 to help others. 
 
 Tresler was her all ; and that all meant far more than
 
 302 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 mere earthly love. To her he was something that must 
 be cherished as a priceless gem entrusted to her care, 
 and his honor was more sacred to her than her own. 
 Therefore all personal considerations must be passed 
 over, and she must give him up. 
 
 But if his honor was safe in her keeping, his per- 
 sonal safety was another matter. In pitting herself 
 against her father's will she fully realized the danger 
 she was incurring. Therefore she racked her sorely 
 taxed brain for the best means of safeguarding her 
 charge. 
 
 She hardly knew what she feared. There was no 
 real danger she could think of, but her instinct warned 
 her to watchfulness, to be prepared for anything. She 
 felt sure that her father would seek some means of 
 circumventing the sheriff's mandate. What form would 
 his attempt take ? 
 
 After half an hour's hard thinking she made up her 
 mind to consult her wise old counselor, Joe, and enlist 
 his aid. With this object in view she went down-stairs 
 and visited the lean-to. Here she found both Arizona 
 and Joe. Arizona was waiting a summons from the 
 rancher, who was still busy with Jake and Fyles. At 
 first she thought of consulting her adviser privately, 
 but finally decided to take both men into her confi- 
 dence ; and this the more readily since she knew her 
 lover's liking for the hot-headed cowpuncher. 
 
 Both men stood up as she entered. Arizona dragged 
 his slouch hat off with clumsy haste. 
 
 " Boys," the girl said at once, " I've come to ask you 
 for a little help."
 
 Left alone with her patient she had little to do but reflect
 
 THE LIGHTED LAMP 303 
 
 " Makes me glad, missie," said the cowpuncher, with 
 alacrity. 
 
 Joe contented himself with an upward glance of in- 
 quiry. 
 
 Diane nodded with an assumption of brightness. 
 
 " Well, it's this," she said. "Jack mustn't be left for 
 the next few days. Now, I am his nurse, but I have 
 household duties to perform and shall be forced to leave 
 him at times. You, Arizona, won't be able to do any- 
 thing in the daytime, because you are occupied on the 
 ranch. But I thought you, Joe, could help me by being 
 in the kitchen as much as possible. You see, in the 
 kitchen you can hear the least sound coming from up- 
 stairs. The room is directly overhead. In that way I 
 shall be free to do my house." 
 
 " Guess you had trouble fixin' him up-stairs ? " Joe 
 inquired slowly. " Doc. Osier wus sayin' somethin' 
 'fore he went." 
 
 Diane turned away. The shrewd old eyes were 
 reading her like a book. 
 
 " Yes, father wanted him put in the bunkhouse." 
 
 " Ah." Joe's twisted face took on a curious look. 
 " Yes, I guess I ken do that. What's to happen o' night 
 time?" 
 
 " Oh, I can sit up with him. The night is all right," 
 the girl returned easily. 
 
 " Guess we'd best take it turn about like," Joe sug- 
 gested. 
 
 " No, it wouldn't do." 
 
 " Guess it wouldn't do. That's so," the other ob- 
 served thoughtfully. " Howsum, I ken set around the
 
 304 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 kitchen o' nights. I shan't need no lights. Y' see, wi' 
 the door open right into the hall ther' ain't no sound but 
 what I'll hear." 
 
 The man's meaning was plain enough, but the girl 
 would not take it. 
 
 " No," she said, " it's in the daytime I want you." 
 
 " Daytime ? I guess that's fixed." Joe looked up 
 dissatisfied. 
 
 At this juncture Arizona broke in with a scheme for 
 his own usefulness. 
 
 " Say, missie, any time o' night you jest tap hard on 
 that windy I'll know you want the doc. fetchin'. An' 
 I'll come right along up an' git orders. I'll be waitin' 
 around." 
 
 The girl looked him squarely in the eyes, seeking the 
 meaning that lay behind his words. But the man's ex- 
 pression was sphinx-like. She felt that these rough 
 creatures, instead of acting as advisers, had assumed the 
 responsibilities she had only asked their assistance in. 
 
 " You are good fellows both. I can't thank you ; but 
 you've taken a weight off my mind." 
 
 " Ther' ain't no thanks, missie. I figger as a doc. is 
 an a'mighty ne'sary thing when a feller's sick," observed 
 Arizona, quietly. 
 
 " Spec' ally at night time," put in Joe, seriously. 
 
 " I'll get back to my patient," Diane said abruptly. 
 And as she flitted away to the house the men heard the 
 heavy tread of Jake coming round the lean-to, and un- 
 derstood the hastiness of her retreat. 
 
 The next minute the foreman had summoned Arizona 
 to the rancher's presence.
 
 THE LIGHTED LAMP 305 
 
 Diane had done well to enlist the help of these men. 
 Without some aid it would have been impossible to look 
 after Tresler. She feared her father, as well she might. 
 What would be easier than for him to get her out of the 
 way, and then have Jake deport her patient to the bunk- 
 house ? Doc. Osier's threats of life or death had been 
 exaggerated to help her carry her point, she knew, and, 
 also, she fully realized that her father understood this 
 was so. He was not the man to be scared of any bogey 
 like that. Besides, his parting words, so gentle, so 
 kindly ; she had grown to distrust him most in his gen- 
 tler moods. 
 
 All that day, assisted by Joe, she watched at the sick- 
 bed. Tresler was never left for long ; and when it was 
 absolutely necessary to leave him Joe's sharp ears were 
 straining for any alarming sound, and, unauthorized by 
 Diane, his eyes were on the hallway, watching the 
 rancher's bedroom door. He had no compunction in 
 admitting his fears to himself. He had wormed the 
 whole story'of the rancher's anger at Tresler's presence 
 in the house from his young mistress, and, also, he un- 
 derstood that Diane's engagement to her patient was 
 known to her father. Therefore his lynx eyes never 
 closed, his keen ears were ever strained, and he moved 
 about with a gun in his hip-pocket. He didn't know 
 what might happen, but his movements conveyed his 
 opinion of the man with whom they had to deal. Ari- 
 zona had been despatched with Fyles to Willow Bluff. 
 There were wounded men there to be identified, and 
 the officer wanted his aid in examining the battle- 
 field.
 
 306 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " But he'll git around to-night," Joe had said, after 
 bringing the news to Diane. " Sure sure as pinewood 
 breeds bugs." 
 
 And the girl was satisfied. The day wore on, and 
 night brought no fresh anxiety. Diane was at her 
 post, Joe was alert, and though no one had heard of 
 Arizona's return, twice, in the small hours, the chore- 
 man heard a footfall outside his lean-to, and he made 
 a shrewd guess as to whose it was. 
 
 The second and third day passed satisfactorily, but 
 still Tresler displayed no sign of life. He lay on the 
 bed just as he had been originally placed there. Each 
 day the brusque little doctor drove out from Forks, and 
 each day he went back leaving little encouragement be- 
 hind him. Before he went away, after his third visit, 
 he shook his head gravely in response to the nurse's 
 eager inquiries. 
 
 " He's got to get busy soon," he said, as he returned 
 his liniments and medical stores to his bag. "Don't 
 like it. Bad very bad. Nature exhausting. He must 
 
 rouse soon or death. Three days Tut, tut ! Still 
 
 no sign. Cheer up, nurse. Give him three more. Then 
 drastic treatment. Won't come till he wakes no use. 
 Send for me. Good girl. Stick to it. Sorry. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 And patting Diane on the back the man bustled out 
 in his jerky fashion, leaving her weeping over the ver- 
 dict he had left behind. 
 
 It was the strain of watching that had unnerved her. 
 She was bodily and mentally weary. Her eyes and 
 head ached with the seemingly endless vigil. Three
 
 THE LIGHTED LAMP 307 
 
 days and nights and barely six hours' sleep over all, 
 and those only snatched at broken intervals. 
 
 And now another night confronted her. So over- 
 wrought was she that she even thought of seeking the 
 aid old Joe had proffered. She thought quite seriously 
 of it for some moments. Could she not smuggle him 
 up-stairs after her father had had his supper and retired 
 to his bedroom? She had no idea that Joe had, secretly, 
 spent almost as much time on the watch as she had 
 done. However, she came to no actual decision, and 
 went wearily down and prepared the evening meal. 
 She waited on the blind man in her usual patient, silent 
 manner, and afterward went back to the kitchen and 
 prepared to face the long dreary night 
 
 Joe was finishing the washing-up. He was longer 
 over it than usual, though he had acquired a wonderful 
 proficiency in his culinary duties since he was first em- 
 ployed on the ranch. Diane paid little heed to him, 
 and as soon as her share of the work was finished, pre- 
 pared to retire up-stairs. 
 
 " There's just the sweeping up, Joe," she said. 
 " When you've finished that we are through. I must 
 go up to him." 
 
 Joe glanced round from his washing-trough, but went 
 on with his work. 
 
 " He ain't showed no sign, Miss Dianny ? " he asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 " No, Joe." 
 
 The girl spoke almost in a whisper, leaning against 
 the table with a deep sigh of weariness. 
 
 " Say, Miss Dianny," the little man suggested softly,
 
 3 o8 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " that doc. feller said mebbe he'd give him three days. 
 It's a real long spell. Seems to me you'll need to be 
 up an' around come that time." 
 
 " Oh, I shall be 'up and around,' Joe." 
 
 The grizzled old head shook doubtfully, and he moved 
 away from his trough, drying his hands, and came over 
 to where she was standing. 
 
 " Say, I jest can't sleep noways. I'm like that, I 
 guess. I git spells. I wus kind o' thinkin' mebbe I'd 
 set around like. A good night's slep 'ud fix you right. 
 I've heerd tell as folks kind o' influences their patiences 
 some. You bein' tired, an' sleppy, an' miser'ble, now 
 mebbe that's jest wot's keppin' him back " 
 
 Diane shook her head. She saw through his round- 
 about subterfuge, and its kindliness touched her. 
 
 " No, no, Joe," she said almost tenderly. " Not on 
 your life. You would give me your last crust if you 
 were starving. You are doing all, and more than any 
 one else would do for me, and I will accept nothing 
 further." 
 
 " You're figgerin' wrong," he retorted quite harshly. 
 " 'Tain't fer you. No, no, it's fer him. Y' see we're 
 kind o' dependin' on him, Arizona an' me " 
 
 " What for ? " the girl asked quietly. 
 
 " Wai, y' see wal it's like this. He's goin' to be 
 a rancher. Yes, don't y' see?" he asked, with a pitiful 
 attempt at a knowing leer. 
 
 " No, I don't." 
 
 " Say, mebbe Arizona an' me'll git a nice little job 
 a nice little job. Eh?" 
 
 " You are talking nonsense, and you know it."
 
 THE LIGHTED LAMP 309 
 
 "Eh? What?" 
 
 The little man stood abashed at the girl's tone. 
 
 " You're only saying all this to get me to sleep to- 
 night, instead of sitting up. Well, I'm not going to. 
 You thinking of mercenary things like that. Oh, Joe, 
 it's almost funny." 
 
 Joe's face flushed as far as it was capable of flushing. 
 
 " Wai," he said, " I jest thought ther' wa'n't no use 
 in two o' us settin' up." 
 
 "Nor is there. I'm going to doit. You've made 
 me feel quite fresh with your silly talk." 
 
 " Ah, mebbe. Guess I'll swep up." 
 
 Diane took the hint and went up-stairs, her eyes 
 brimming with tears. In her present state of urihappi- 
 ness Joe's utter unselfishness was more than she could 
 bear. 
 
 She took her place at the bedside, determined to sit 
 there as long as she could keep awake, afterward she 
 would adopt a " sentry-go " in the passage. For an 
 hour she battled with sleep. She kept her eyes open, 
 but her senses were dull and she passed the time in a 
 sort of dream, a nasty, fanciful dream, in which Tresler 
 was lying dead on the bed beside her, and she was 
 going through the agony of realization. She was 
 mourning him, living on in the dreary round of her 
 life under her father's roof, listening to his daily sneers, 
 and submitting to his studied cruelties. No doubt this 
 waking dream would have continued until real sleep 
 had stolen upon her unawares, but, after an hour, 
 something occurred to fully arouse her. There was a 
 distinct movement on the bed. Tresler had suddenly
 
 310 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 drawn up one arm, which, almost immediately, fell 
 again on the coverlet, as though the spasmodic move- 
 ment had been uncontrolled by any power either men- 
 tal or physical. 
 
 She was on her feet in an instant, bending over him 
 ready to administer the drugs Doc. Osier had left with 
 her. And by the light of the shaded lamp she saw a 
 distinct change in the pallor of his face. It was no 
 longer death-like ; there was a tinge of life, however 
 faint, in the drawn features. And as she beheld it she 
 could have cried aloud in her joy. 
 
 She administered the restoratives and returned to 
 her seat with a fast-beating heart. And suddenly she 
 remembered with alarm how near sleep she had been. 
 She rose abruptly and began to pace the room. The 
 moment was a critical one. Her lover might regain 
 consciousness at any time. And with this thought 
 came an access of caution. She went out on the land- 
 ing and looked at the head of the stairs. Then she 
 crept back. An inspiration had come to her. She 
 would barricade the approach, and though even to 
 herself she did not admit the thought, it was the recol- 
 lection of her father's blindness that prompted her. 
 
 Taking two chairs she propped them at the head of 
 the stairs in such a position that the least accidental 
 touch would topple them headlong. The scheme ap- 
 pealed to her. Then, dreading sleep more than ever, 
 she took up her "sentry-go " on the landing, glancing 
 in at the sick-room at every turn in her walk. 
 
 The hours dragged wearily on. Tresler gave no 
 further sign. It was after midnight, and the girl's eyes
 
 THE LIGHTED LAMP 311 
 
 refused to keep open any longer ; added to which she 
 frequendy stumbled as she paced to and fro. In des- 
 peration she fetched the lamp from the sick-room and 
 passed into her own, and bathed her face in cold water. 
 Then she busied herself with tidying the place up. 
 Anything to keep herself awake. After a while, feeling 
 better, she sat on the edge of her bed to rest. It was 
 a fatal mistake. Her eyes closed against all effort of 
 will. She was helpless. Nothing could have stopped 
 her. Exhausted nature claimed her and she slept. 
 
 And Tresler was rousing. His constitution had 
 asserted itself, and the restorative Diane had adminis- 
 tered was doing the rest. He moved several times, 
 but as yet his strength was insufficient to rouse him to 
 full consciousness. He lay there with his brain strug- 
 gling against his overwhelming weakness. Thought 
 was hard at work with the mistiness of dreaming. He 
 was half aware that he was stretched out upon a bed, 
 yet it seemed to him that he was bound down with 
 fetters of iron, which resisted his wildest efforts to 
 break. It seemed to him that he was struggling 
 fiercely, and that Jake was looking on mocking him. 
 At last, utterly weary and exhausted he gave up trying 
 and called upon Arizona. He shouted loudly, but he 
 could not hear his own voice ; he shouted again and 
 again, raising his screams to a fearful pitch, but still 
 no sound came. Then he thought that Jake went 
 away, and he was left utterly alone. He lay quite still 
 waiting, and presently he realized that he was stretched 
 out on the prairie, staked down to the ground by 
 shackles securing his hands and feet ; and the moon
 
 312 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 was shining, and he could hear the distant sound of 
 the coyotes and prairie dogs. This brought him to a 
 full understanding. His enemies had done this thing 
 so that he should be eaten alive by the starving scav- 
 engers of the prairie. He pondered long ; wondering, 
 as the cries of the coyotes drew nearer, how long it 
 would be before the first of the loathsome creatures 
 would attack him. Now he could see their forms in 
 the moonlight They came slowly, slowly. One much 
 bigger than the rest was leading ; and as the creature 
 drew near he saw that it had the face of the rancher, 
 whose blind eyes shone out like two coals of fire in the 
 moonlight. It reared itself on its hind legs, and to his 
 utter astonishment, as this man-wolf stood gazing down 
 upon him, he saw that it was wearing the dressing- 
 gown in which the rancher always appeared. It was 
 a weird apparition, and the shackled man felt the force 
 of those savage, glowing eyes, gazing so cruelly into 
 his. But there cpuld be no resistance, he was utterly 
 at the creature's mercy. He saw the gleaming teeth 
 bared in anticipation of the meal awaiting it, but, with 
 wolf-like cunning, it dissembled. It moved around, 
 gazing in every direction to see that the coast was 
 clear, it paused and stood listening ; then it came on. 
 Now it was standing near him, and he could feel the 
 warmth of its reeking breath blowing on his face. 
 Lower drooped its head, and its front feet, which he 
 recognized as hands, were placed upon his neck. 
 Then a faint and distant voice reached him, and he 
 knew that this man-wolf was speaking. "So you'd 
 marry her," it said. " You ! But we'll take no chances
 
 THE LIGHTED LAMP 313 
 
 no chances. I could tear your throat out, but I 
 won't ; no, I won't do that. A little blood just a 
 little." And then the dreaming man felt the fingers 
 moving about his throat. They felt cold and clammy, 
 and the night air chilled him. 
 
 Then came a change, one of those fantastic changes 
 which dreamland loves, and which drives the dreamer, 
 even in his sleeping thought, nearly distracted. The 
 dark vista of the prairie suddenly lit. A great light 
 shone over all, and the dreaming man could see noth- 
 ing but the light that, and the wolf-man. The ghoul- 
 ish creature stood its ground. The fingers were still 
 at his throat, but now they moved uncertainly, grop- 
 ing. There was no longer the deliberate movement 
 of set purpose. It was as though the light had blinded 
 the cruel scavenger, that its purpose was foiled 
 through its power of vision being suddenly destroyed. 
 It was a breathless moment in the dream. 
 
 But the tension quickly relaxed. The hands were 
 drawn abruptly away. The wolf-man stood erect 
 again, and the dreamer heard it addressing the light. 
 The words were gentle, in contrast with the manner in 
 which it had spoken to him, and the softness of its 
 tones held him fascinated. 
 
 " He's better, eh ? Coming round," he said. And 
 somehow the dreamer thought that he laughed, and 
 the invisible coyotes laughed with him. 
 
 A brief silence followed, which was ultimately broken 
 by another voice. It was a voice from out of the light, 
 and its tones were a gasp of astonishment and alarm. 
 
 " What are you doing here, father? " the voice asked.
 
 314 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 There was a strange familiarity in the tones, and the 
 dreamer struggled for recollection ; but before it came 
 to him the voice went on with a wild exclamation of 
 horror. " Father ! The bandage ! " 
 
 The dreamer wondered ; and something drew his at- 
 tention to the wolf-man. He saw that the creature 
 was eyeing the light with ferocious purpose in its ex- 
 pression. It was all so real that he felt a wild thrill of 
 excitement as he watched for what was to happen. 
 But the voice out of the light again spoke, and he 
 found himself listening. 
 
 " Go ! " it said in a tone of command, and thrilling 
 with horror and indignation. " Go ! or no, dare to 
 lay a hand on me, and I'll dash the lamp in your face ! 
 Go now ! or I will summon help. It is at hand, below. 
 And armed help." 
 
 There was a pause. The wolf-man stared at the 
 light with villainous eyes, but the contemplated 
 attack was not forthcoming. The creature muttered 
 something which the dreamer lost. Then it moved 
 away ; not as it had come, but groping its way blindly. 
 A moment later the light went out too, the cries of the 
 coyotes were hushed, and the moon shone down on 
 the scene as before. And the dreamer, still feeling 
 himself imprisoned, watched the great yellow globe 
 until it disappeared below the horizon. Then, as the 
 darkness closed over him, he seemed to sleep, for the 
 scene died out and recollection faded away.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE RENUNCIATION 
 
 THE early morning sun was streaming in through 
 the window of the sick man's room when Tresler at 
 last awoke to consciousness. And, curiously enough, 
 more than half an hour passed before Diane became 
 aware of the change in her patient. 
 
 And yet she was wide awake too. Sleep had never 
 been further from her eyes, and her mind never more 
 alert. But for the first time since Tresler had been 
 brought in wounded, his condition was no longer first 
 in her thoughts. Something occupied her at the mo- 
 ment of his waking to the exclusion of all else. 
 
 The man lay like a log. His eyes were staring up 
 at the ceiling; he made no movement, and though 
 perfect consciousness had come to him there was no 
 interest with it, no inquiry. He accepted his position 
 like an infant waking from its healthy night-long slum- 
 ber. Truth to tell, his weakness held him prisoner, 
 sapping all natural inclination from mind and body. 
 All his awakening brought him was a hazy, indifferent 
 recollection of a bad dream ; that, and a background 
 of the events at Willow Bluff. 
 
 If the man were suffering from a bad dream, the 
 girl's expression suggested the terrible reality of her 
 thought. There was something worse than horror in
 
 316 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 her eyes, in the puckering of her brows, in the nervous 
 compression of her lips. There was a blending of 
 terror and bewilderment in the brown depths that con- 
 templated the wall before her, and every now and then 
 her pretty figure moved with a palpable shudder. Her 
 thoughts were reviewing feverishly scenes similar to 
 those in her patient's dream, only with her they were 
 terrible realities which she had witnessed only a few 
 hours before in that very room. At that moment she 
 would have given her life to have been able to call 
 them dreams. Her lover's life had been attempted by 
 the inhuman process of reopening his wound. 
 
 Should she ever forget the dreadful scene ? Never ! 
 Not once, but time and again her brain pictured each 
 detail with a distinctness that was in the nature of 
 physical pain. From the moment she awoke, which 
 had been unaccountable to her, to find herself still 
 propped against the foot-rail of her bed, to the finish of 
 the dastardly scene in the sick-room was a living night- 
 mare. She remembered the start with which she had 
 opened her eyes. As far as she knew she had heard 
 nothing; nothing had disturbed her. And yet she 
 found herself sitting bolt upright, awake, listening, in- 
 tent. Then her rush to the lamp. Her guilty feelings. 
 The unconscious stealth of her tiptoeing to the landing 
 outside. Her horror at the discovery that her obstruc- 
 tion to the staircase had been removed, and the chairs, 
 as though to mock the puerility of her scheming, set 
 in orderly fashion, side by side against the wall to 
 make way for the midnight intruder. The closed door 
 of the sick-room, which yielded to her touch and re-
 
 THE RENUNCIATION 317 
 
 vealed the apparition of her father bending over her 
 lover, and, with no uncertainty of movement, removing 
 the bandage from the wounded neck. The terror of it 
 all remained. So long as she lived she could never 
 forget one single detail of it. 
 
 Even now, though hours had passed since these 
 things had happened, the nervousness with which she 
 had finally approached the task of readjusting the 
 bandage still possessed her. And even the thankful- 
 ness with which she discovered that the intended injury 
 had been frustrated was inadequate to bring her more 
 than a passing satisfaction. She shuddered, and nerv- 
 ously turned to her patient 
 
 Then it was that she became aware of his return to 
 life. 
 
 " Jack ! Oh, thank God ! " she murmured softly. 
 
 And the sound of the well-loved voice roused the 
 patient's interest in the things about him. 
 
 "Where am I?" he asked, in a weak whisper, turn- 
 ing his eyes to the face so anxiously regarding him. 
 
 But Diane's troubles had been lifted from her shoul- 
 ders for the moment and the nurse was uppermost once 
 more. She signed to him to keep quiet while she ad- 
 ministered the doses Doc. Osier had prepared for him. 
 Then she answered his question. 
 
 " You are in the room adjoining mine," she said 
 quietly. 
 
 Her woman's instinct warned her that no more reas- 
 suring information could be given him. 
 
 And the result justified it. He smiled faintly, and, 
 in a few moments, his eyes closed again and he slept.
 
 318 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Then the girl set about her work in earnest. She 
 hurried down-stairs and communicated the good news 
 to Joe. She went in search of Jake, to have a man 
 despatched for the doctor. For the time at least all 
 her troubles were forgotten in her thankfulness at her 
 lover's return to life. Somehow, as she passed out of 
 the house, the very sunlight seemed to rejoice with 
 her ; the old familiar buildings had something friendly 
 in their bald, unyielding aspect. Even the hideous 
 corrals looked less like the prisons they were, and the 
 branding forges less cruel. But greatest wonder of all 
 was the attitude of Jake when she put her request 
 before him. The giant smiled upon her and granted 
 it without demur. And, in her gladness, the simple 
 child smiled back her heartfelt thanks. But her smile 
 was short-lived, and her thanks were premature. 
 
 " I'm pretty nigh glad that feller's mendin'," Jake 
 said. "Say, he's a man, that feller." He turned his 
 eyes away and avoided her smiling gaze, and con- 
 tinued in a tone he tried to make regretful. " Guess I 
 was gettin' to feel mean about him. We haven't hit it 
 exac'ly. I allow it's mostly temper between us. How- 
 sum, I guess it can't be helped now now he's goin'." 
 
 " Going ? " the girl inquired. But she knew he would 
 be going, only she wondered what Jake meant. 
 
 "Sure," the foreman said, with a sudden return to 
 his usual manner. " Say, your father's up against him 
 good and hot. I've seen Julian Marbolt mad mad- 
 der'n hell ; but I ain't never seen him jest as mad as 
 he is against your beau. When Tresler gits right he's 
 got to quit quick. I've been wonderin' what's fixed
 
 THE RENUNCIATION 319 
 
 your father like that. Guess you ain't been crazy 
 enough to tell him that Tresler's been sparkin' 
 you?" 
 
 The girl's smile died out, and her pretty eyes as- 
 sumed a look of stony contempt as she answered with 
 spirit. And Jake listened to her reply with a smile on 
 his bold face that in no wise concealed his desire to 
 hurt her. 
 
 "Whatever happens Mr. Tresler doesn't leave our 
 house until Doc. Osier gives the word. Perhaps it will 
 do you good to further understand that the doctor 
 will not give that word until I choose." 
 
 " You're a silly wench ! " Jake exclaimed angrily. 
 Then he became scornful. " I don't care that for 
 Tresler, now." Nevertheless he gave a vicious snap 
 with his fingers as he flicked them in the air. " I wish 
 him well enough. I have reason to. Let him stay as 
 long as you can keep him. Yes, go right ahead an' 
 dose him, an' physic him ; an' when he's well he's 
 goin', sure. An' when he's out of the way maybe you'll 
 see the advantage o' marryin* me. How's that, heh? 
 There, there," he went on tauntingly, as he saw the 
 flushing face before him, and the angry eyes, " don't 
 get huffed, though I don't know but what you're a 
 daisy-lookin' wench when you're huffed. Get right 
 ahead, milady, an' fix the boy up. Guess it's all you'll 
 ever do for him." 
 
 Diane had fled before the last words came. She had 
 to, or she would have struck the man. She knew, only 
 too well, how right he was about Tresler ; but this 
 cruelty was unbearable, and she went back to the sick-
 
 320 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 room utterly bereft of the last shadow of the happiness 
 she had left it with. 
 
 The doctor came, and brought with him a measure 
 of comfort. He told her there was nothing to be con- 
 sidered now but the patient's weakness, and the cleans- 
 ing of the wound. In his abrupt manner he suggested 
 a diet, and ordered certain physic, and finally departed, 
 telling her that as her room adjoined her patient's there 
 would be no further need of sitting up at night. 
 
 And so three weeks passed ; three weeks of rapid 
 convalescence for Tresler, if they were spent very 
 much otherwise by many of the settlers in the district. 
 Truth to tell, it was the stormiest time that the country 
 had ever known. The check the night-riders had re- 
 ceived at Willow Bluff had apparently sent them crazy 
 for revenge, which they proceeded to take in a wholly 
 characteristic manner. Hitherto their depredations 
 had been comparatively far apart, considerable inter- 
 vals elapsing between them, but now four raids oc- 
 curred one after the other. The police were utterly 
 defied ; cattle were driven off, and their defenders shot 
 down without mercy. These monsters worked their 
 will whithersoever they chose. The sheriff brought re- 
 inforcements up, but with no other effect than to rouse 
 the discontent of the ranchers at their utter failure. It 
 seemed as though the acts of these rustlers was a 
 direct challenge to all authority. A reign of terror set 
 in, and settlers, who had been in the country for years, 
 declared their intention of getting out, and seeking a 
 place where, if they had to pay more for their land, they 
 would at least find protection for life and property.
 
 THE RENUNCIATION 321 
 
 Such was the position when Tresler found himself 
 allowed to move about his room, and sit in a comfort- 
 able armchair in the delightful sunlight at his open 
 window. Nor was he kept in ignorance of the doings 
 of the raiders. Diane and he discussed them ardently. 
 But she was careful to keep him in ignorance of 
 everything concerning herself and her father. He 
 knew nothing of the latter's objection to his presence 
 in the house, and he knew nothing of the blind man's 
 threats, or that fearful attack he had perpetrated in one 
 of his fits of mad passion. 
 
 These days, so delightful to them both, so brimful of 
 happiness for him, so fraught with such a blending of 
 pain and sweetness for her, had stolen along almost 
 uncounted, unheeded. But like all such overshadowed 
 delights, their end came swiftly, ruthlessly. 
 
 The signal was given at the midday meal. The 
 rancher, who had never mentioned Tresler's name since 
 that memorable night, rose from the table to retire to 
 his room. At the door he paused and turned. 
 
 "That man, Tresler," he said, in his smooth, even 
 tones. " He's well enough to go to the bunkhouse. 
 See to it." 
 
 And he left the girl crushed and helpless. It had 
 come at last. She knew that she could keep her lover 
 no longer at her side. Even Doc. Osier could not help 
 her, and, besides, if she refused to obey, her father 
 would not have the slightest compunction in attending 
 to the matter in his own way. 
 
 So it was with a heavy heart she took herself up- 
 stairs for the afternoon. This tte-a-t&te had become
 
 322 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 their custom every day ; she with her sewing, and the 
 sick man luxuriating in a pipe. Tresler was still band- 
 aged, but it was only lightly, for the wound was almost 
 healed. 
 
 The girl took up her position as usual, and Tresler 
 moved his chair over beside the little table she laid 
 her work on, and sat facing her. He loved to gaze 
 upon the sad little face. He loved to say things to her 
 that would rouse it from its serious caste, and show 
 him the shadows dispelled, and the pretty smile 
 wreathing itself in their stead. And he had found it 
 so easy too. The simplicity, the honesty, the single- 
 mindedness of this prairie flower made her more than 
 susceptible to girlish happiness, even amidst her 
 troublous surroundings. But he knew that these mo- 
 ments were all too passing, that to make them endur- 
 ing he must somehow contrive to get her away from 
 that world of brutality to a place where she could bask, 
 surrounded by love and the sunshine of a happy home. 
 And during the days of his convalescence he planned 
 and plotted for the consummation of his hopes. 
 
 But he found her more difficult 'to-day. The eyes 
 were a shade more sad, and the smile would not come 
 to banish the shadows. The sweet mouth, too, always 
 drooping slightly at the corners, seemed to droop more 
 than usual to-day. He tried, in vain, every topic that 
 he thought would interest her, but at last himself began 
 to experience the depression that seemed to weigh so 
 desperately on her. And strangely enough this dispir- 
 iting influence conjured up in his mind a morbid mem- 
 ory, that until then had utterly escaped him. It was
 
 THE RENUNCIATION 323 
 
 the dream he had the night before his awakening. 
 And almost unconsciously he spoke of it. 
 
 " You remember the day I woke to find myself here, 
 Danny? "he said. "It just occurs to me now that I 
 wasn't unconscious all the time before. I distinctly re- 
 member dreaming. Perhaps I was only asleep." 
 
 The girl shook her head. 
 
 " You were more than asleep," she said portentously. 
 
 " Anyhow, I distinctly remember a dream I had. I 
 should say it was ' nightmare.' It was about your 
 father. He'd got me by the throat, and what's the 
 matter ? " 
 
 Diane started, and, to Tresler's alarm, looked like 
 fainting ; but she recovered at once. 
 
 " Nothing," she said, " only only I can't bear to 
 think of that time, and then then father strangling 
 you ! Don't think of your dream. Let's talk of some- 
 thing else." 
 
 Tresler's alarm abated at once; he laughed softly 
 and leant forward and kissed her. 
 
 " Our future our little home. Eh, dearest ? " he 
 suggested tenderly. 
 
 She returned his embrace and made a pitiful attempt 
 to smile back into the eyes which looked so eagerly 
 into hers. And now, for the first time, her lover began 
 to understand that there really was something amiss 
 with her. It was that look, so wistful, so appealing, 
 that roused his apprehension. He pressed her to tell 
 him her trouble, until, for sheer misery, she could keep 
 it from him no longer. 
 
 " It's nothing," she faltered, with trembling lips.
 
 324 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Watching her face with a lover's jealousy he kept 
 silence, for he knew that her first words were only her 
 woman's preliminary to something she considered seri- 
 ous. 
 
 "Jack," she said presently, settling all her attention 
 upon her work, " you've never asked me anything 
 about myself. Isn't that unusual ? Perhaps you are 
 not interested, or perhaps " her head bent lower over 
 her work " you, with your generous heart, are ready 
 to take me on trust. However," she went on, before 
 he could interrupt her, " I intend to tell you what you 
 refuse to ask. No," as he leant forward and kissed her 
 again, " now sit up and light your pipe. There are to 
 be no interruptions like that." 
 
 She smiled wistfully and gently pushed him back 
 into his chair. 
 
 " Now," she began, as he settled himself to listen, 
 " I must go back such a long, long way. Before I was 
 born. Father was a sea captain then. First the cap- 
 tain of a whaler, afterward he bought a ship of his 
 own and traded round the East Indies. He often used 
 to talk of those days, not because he had any desire to 
 tell me of them, but it seemed to relieve him when he 
 was in a bad temper. I don't know what his trade 
 was, but I think it was of an exciting nature. He 
 often spoke of the risks, which, he said, were amply 
 compensated by the money he made." Tresler smiled 
 gravely. " And father must have made a lot of money 
 at that time, for he married mother, bought himself a 
 fine house and lands just outside Kingston, in Jamaica, 
 and, I believe, he kept a whole army of black servants.
 
 THE RENUNCIATION 325 
 
 Yes, and he has told me, not once, but a hundred 
 times, that he dates all his misfortunes from the day he 
 married my mother, which always seems unfair to her 
 anyway. Somehow I can never think of father as ever 
 having been a kind man, and I've no doubt that poor 
 mother had anything but an easy time of it with him. 
 However, it is not for me to criticize." She paused, 
 but went on almost immediately. " Let me see, it was 
 directly after the honeymoon that he went away on his 
 last trading trip. He was to call at Java. Jake was 
 his mate, you know, and they were expecting to return 
 in six months' time with a rich harvest of what he 
 calls ' Black Ivory.' I think it was some native manu- 
 facture, because he had to call at the native villages. 
 He told me so. But the trip was abandoned after 
 three weeks at sea. Father was stricken down with 
 yellow fever. And from that day to this he has never 
 seen the light of day." 
 
 The girl pushed her work aside and went on 
 drearily. 
 
 " When he recovered from the fever he was brought 
 home, as he said himself, 'a blind hulk.' Mother 
 nursed him back to health and strength, but she could 
 not restore his sight. I am telling you these things 
 just as I have gleaned them from him at such moments 
 as he chose to be communicative. I imagine, too, 
 from the little things he sometimes let fall when he was 
 angry, that all this time he lived in a state of impotent 
 fury against all the world, against God, but particularly 
 against the one person to whom he should have been 
 most grateful mother. All his friends deserted him
 
 326 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 in consequence of his bitter temper all, that is, except 
 Jake. At last in desperation, he conceived the idea of 
 going to Europe. At first mother was going with him, 
 but though he was well able to afford the additional 
 expense he begrudged it, and, changing his mind, 
 decided to go alone. He sold his ship, settled his af- 
 fairs, and went off, and for three years he traveled 
 round Europe, visiting every eye-doctor of note in all 
 the big capitals. But it was all no good, and he re- 
 turned even more soured than he went away. It was 
 during his absence that I was born." 
 
 Again Diane paused. This time it was some mo- 
 ments before she proceeded. 
 
 "To add to his troubles," she at last resumed, in a 
 low tone, " mother was seriously ill when he got back, 
 and, the day of his return, died in his presence. After 
 that, whatever his disposition was before, it seems to 
 have become a thousand times worse. And when he 
 is angry now he takes a painful delight in discussing 
 the hatred and abhorrence all the people of Kingston 
 held him in, and the hatred and abhorrence he returns 
 to mankind in general. By his own accounts he must 
 have been terrible. However, this has nothing to do 
 with our history. Personally, I remember nothing but 
 this ranch, but I understand that he tried to resume his 
 old trade in the Indies. For some reason this failed 
 him ; trouble occurred, and he gave it up for good, and 
 came out to this country and settled here. Again, to 
 quote his words, ' away from men and things that 
 drove him distracted.' That," she finished up, " is a 
 brief sketch of our history."
 
 THE RENUNCIATION 327 
 
 " And just such a story as I should imagine your 
 father had behind him. A most unhappy one," Tresler 
 observed quietly. But he was marveling at the inno- 
 cence of this child who failed to realize the meaning of 
 "black ivory." 
 
 For a little while there was a silence between them, 
 and both sat staring out of window. At last Diane 
 turned, and when she spoke again there was an ominous 
 quivering of the lips. 
 
 "Jack," she said, " I have not told you this without 
 a purpose." 
 
 "No, I gathered that, dear," he returned. "And 
 this profound purpose ? " he questioned, smiling. 
 
 Her answer was a long time in coming. What she 
 had to do was so hard. 
 
 "Father doesn't like you," she said at last in des- 
 peration. 
 
 Tresler put his pipe aside. 
 
 " It doesn't seem to me he likes anybody very much, 
 unless it's Jake. And I wouldn't bet a pile on the af- 
 fection between them." 
 
 " He likes Jake better than anybody else. At least he 
 trusts him." 
 
 " Which is a fair equivalent in his case. But what 
 makes you think he dislikes me more than most peo- 
 ple?" 
 
 " You remember that night in the kitchen, when you 
 asked me to " 
 
 " Marry ? Yes. Could I ever forget it ? " 
 
 Tresler had taken possession of one of the small 
 hands lying in the girl's lap, but she gently withdrew it.
 
 328 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " I was weeping, and and you saw the bruises on 
 my arms. Father disapproved of my talking to 
 you " 
 
 "Ah! I understand." And he added, under his 
 breath, " The brute ! " 
 
 " He says I must give you up." 
 
 Tresler was looking straight before him at the win- 
 dow. Now he turned slowly and faced her. His ex- 
 pression conveyed nothing. 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " Oh, it is so hard ! " Diane burst out, in distress. 
 " And you make it harder. Yes," she went on miser- 
 ably, " I have to give you up. I must not marry you 
 dare not " 
 
 "Dare not?" 
 
 The question came without the movement of a mus- 
 cle. 
 
 " Yes, he says so. Oh, don't you see ? He is blind, 
 and I I am his only oh, what am I saying?" 
 
 Tresler shook his head. 
 
 " I'm afraid you are saying a lot of nonsense, little 
 woman. And what is more, it is a lot of nonsense I 
 am not going to take seriously. Do I understand that 
 you are going to throw me over simply because he tells 
 you to?" 
 
 " Not only because of that." 
 
 " Who told him about us ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Never mind. Perhaps I can guess. You have 
 grown tired of me already ? " 
 
 " You know I haven't, Jack."
 
 THE RENUNCIATION 329 
 
 Diane put out a hand and gently laid it on one of 
 his. But his remained unresponsive. This sudden 
 awakening from his dream of love had more than 
 startled him. It had left him feeling resentful against 
 somebody or something ; at present he was not sure 
 who or what. But he meant to have it out, cost what 
 it might. 
 
 " That's all right, then," he said. " Now, tell me this 
 other reason." Suddenly he leant forward and looked 
 down into her eyes. His hands, now thin and delicate, 
 held hers tightly in a passionate clasp, and his face was 
 alight with the truth and sincerity of his love. " Re- 
 member," he said, " this is no child's play, Danny. I 
 am not the man to give you up easily. I am weak, I 
 know ; but I've still got a fight in me, and so long as I 
 am assured of your love, I swear nothing shall part us. 
 I love you as I have never loved anybody in my life 
 and I just want only you. Now tell me this other rea- 
 son, dear." 
 
 But Diane still hesitated. Her evident distress 
 wrung her lover's heart. He realized now that there 
 was something very serious behind it all. He had 
 never beheld anything so pitiful as the look with which 
 she turned toward him, and further tried to put him 
 off. 
 
 " Father says you are to leave this house to-day. 
 Afterward you will be turned off the ranch. It is only 
 through the sheriff backing the doctor's orders that you 
 were not turned out of here before." 
 
 Tresler made no response for a moment. Then he 
 burst out into a hard, mirthless laugh.
 
 330 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " So ! " he exclaimed, his laugh dying abruptly. 
 " Listen to me. Your father can turn me out of this 
 house though I'll save him that trouble but he can't 
 turn me off this ranch. My residence here is bought 
 and paid for for three years. The agreement is signed 
 and sealed. No, no, let him try another bluff." Then 
 his manner changed to one of gentle persuasion. " But 
 you have not come to the real reason, little one. Out 
 with it. It is a bitter plum, I can tell. Something 
 which makes you dread not only its consequences, but 
 something else. Tell it me, Danny. Whatever it is 
 you may be sure of me. My love for you is unalter- 
 able. Believe me, nothing shall come between us." 
 
 His voice was infinitely tender, and its effect on 
 Diane was to set two great tears rolling down her 
 cheeks as she listened. He had driven her to a corner, 
 and there was no escape. But even so she made one 
 more effort to avoid her shameful disclosure. 
 
 "Will will you not take me at my word, Jack?" 
 she asked imploringly. 
 
 " Not in this, dearest," he replied. 
 
 He spoke inexorably, but with such a world of love 
 in his voice that the long-pent tears came with a rush. 
 He let her weep. He felt it would do her good. And, 
 after a while, when her sobs had ceased, he urged her 
 again. 
 
 "Tell me," he. whispered. 
 < j 
 
 The man waited with wonderful patience. 
 " Oh, don't don't make me ! " she cried. 
 " Yes, I must."
 
 THE RENUNCIATION 331 
 
 And at last her answer came in the faintest of 
 whispers. 
 
 " I I father is is only my legal father. He was 
 away three years. I was born three days before he re- 
 turned." 
 
 " Well, well." Tresler sat quite still for a moment 
 while the simple girl sat cowering under the weight of 
 her mother's shame. Then he^ suddenly reached out 
 and caught her in his arms. "Why, Danny," he cried, 
 pressing her to him, " I never felt so happy over any- 
 thing in my life as the fact that Julian Marbolt is not 
 your father." 
 
 " But the shame of it ! " cried the girl, imagining that 
 her lover had not fully understood. 
 
 " Shame ? Shame ? " he cried, holding her still 
 tighter in his arms. " Never let me hear that word on 
 your lips again. You are the truest, sweetest, simplest 
 child in the world. You are mine, Danny. My very 
 own. And I tell you right here that I've won you and 
 will hold you to my last dying day." 
 
 Now she was kneeling beside him with her face pil- 
 lowed on his breast, sobbing in the joy of her relief and 
 happiness. And Tresler kissed her softly, pressing his 
 cheek many times against the silky curls that wreathed 
 about her head. Then, after a while, he sat looking 
 out of the window with a hard, unyielding stare. 
 Weak as he was, he was ready to do battle with all his 
 might for this child nestling so trustfully in his arms.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 HOT UPON THE TRAIL 
 
 THE most welcome thing that had happened to the 
 men on the ranch for many a long day was Tresler's 
 return to the bunkhouse. He was hailed with acclama- 
 tion. Though he had found it hard to part with Diane 
 under the doubtful circumstances, there was some com- 
 pensation, certainly gratification, in the whole-hearted 
 welcome of his rough comrades. It was not the effusion 
 they displayed, but the deliberateness of their reception 
 of him, that indexed their true feelings. Teddy Jinks 
 refused to serve out the supper hash until Tresler had 
 all he required. Lew Cawley washed out a plate for 
 him, as a special favor ; and Raw Harris, pessimist as 
 he was, and who had a way of displaying the fact in all 
 the little every-day matters of life, cleaned and sharpened 
 a knife for him by prodding it up to the hilt in the hard- 
 beaten earth, and cleaned the prongs of a fork with 
 the edge of his buckskin shirt. But he could not thus 
 outrage his principles without excusing himself, which 
 he did, to the effect that he guessed " invalid fellers need 
 onusual feedin'." Jacob Smith, whose habit it was to 
 take his evening meals seated at the foot of the upright 
 log which served as part of the door casing, and which 
 contact with his broad, buckskin-covered shoulders had 
 polished till it shone resplendently, renounced his
 
 HOT UPON THE TRAIL 333 
 
 coveted position in the invalid's favor. Tresler was a 
 guest of honor, for whom, on this one occasion at 
 least, nothing was too good. And in this position 
 Arizona supported him, cursing the flies that fell into 
 his friend's pannikin of tea, and hooking them out 
 with the point of his hash-besmeared knife as he sat on 
 his log beside him. Joe, too, had come down specially 
 to share the meal, but he, being a member of the house- 
 hold, was very small fry at the bunkhouse. 
 
 And Tresler delighted in the kindness thus showered 
 on him. The freedom from the sick-room did him 
 good ; the air was good to breathe, the plain, whole- 
 some food was good ; but most of all those bronzed, 
 tough faces around him seemed to put new life and 
 vigor into his enfeebled frame. He realized that it was 
 high time that he was at work again. 
 
 And there was lots for him to hear. Every man 
 among them had something to add to the general hash 
 of events, and in their usual way proceeded to ladle it 
 out without regard for audience, contradicting, inter- 
 rupting, cursing, until the unfortunate man who was the 
 butt of their remarks found himself almost overpowered 
 by the babel. 
 
 At length Arizona drew them up with one of his 
 sudden "yanks." 
 
 " Say," he cried, his eyes glaring fiercely and em- 
 bracing the whole party with a great, comprehensive 
 roll, " you fellers is like a crowd o' coyotes around a 
 bone. I 'lows Tresler ain't an a'mighty deal better'n a 
 bone about now, but his lugs ain't deef. Y're jest a 
 gorl-darned lot o' oneddicated hoboes."
 
 334 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Which attack had the effect of reducing the pande- 
 monium, but in no way suppressing the ardent spirits of 
 the party. It acted as a challenge, which Jacob Smith 
 promptly took up. 
 
 "Say, boys," he cried, "we're goin' to git eddication 
 from Arizona ! " 
 
 His remark was followed by a derisive roar of 
 laughter at Arizona's expense. But the moment it had 
 subsided the derided one shot out his retort. 
 
 " Guess ther's things and critturs down our country 
 we don't never rigger to eddicate them's hogs." 
 
 " Fer the reason which they knows more'n you," re- 
 turned Jacob, in no way worried by the personality. 
 
 The boys considered the point achieved by Jacob, and 
 another laugh at Arizona's expense went up. He had 
 stumped the cowpuncher, who now entered the fight 
 with wonderfully good-natured zest. 
 
 " Say," he observed, " I ain't had a heap to do wi' 
 your folks, Jacob, but I'm guessin' ef you're talkin' 
 Gospel, things don't run in your fam'ly." 
 
 " Call him a hog right out, Arizona," put in Raw, 
 lazily. 
 
 11 1 ain't callin' Jacob no hog ; et 'ud be a nasty 
 trick on the hog," observed the ready-tongued 
 man. 
 
 " Hallo, Jacob ! " cried Lew, as the laugh turned on 
 the other man this time. 
 
 But Arizona resented the interference, and rounded 
 on him promptly. 
 
 " Say, you passon feller, I ain't heerd tell as it's the 
 ways o' your country to butt in an' boost folk on to a
 
 HOT UPON THE TRAIL 335 
 
 scrap. It's gener'ly sed you're mostly ready to do the 
 scrappin'." 
 
 " Which means ? " Lew grinned in his large way. 
 
 " Wai, it mostly means let's hear from you fust 
 hand." 
 
 " It's not much use hearing from me on the subject 
 of hogs. They aren't great on 'em in my country. 
 Besides, you seem quite at home with 'em." 
 
 Arizona sprang to his feet, and, walking over to the 
 hulking form of the parson's son, held his hand out. 
 
 " Shake," he said, with a grin that drew his parch- 
 ment-like skin into fierce wrinkles ; " we live in the same 
 shack." 
 
 Lew laughed with the rest, and when it died down 
 observed 
 
 " Look here, Arizona, when you get talking ' hog ' 
 you stand alone. The whole Northwest bows to you 
 on that subject. Now go and sit down like a peace- 
 able citizen, and remember that a man who is such a 
 master in the craft of hog-raising, who has lived with 
 'em, bred 'em, fed on 'em, and whose mental vision is 
 bounded by 'em, has no right to down inoffensive, un- 
 tutored souls like ourselves. It isn't generous." 
 
 Arizona stood. He looked at the man ; then he 
 glanced at each face around him and noted the smiles. 
 One hand went up to his long, black hair and he 
 scratched his head, while his wild eyes settled them- 
 selves on Tresler's broadly grinning features. Sud- 
 denly he walked back to his seat, took up his dish of 
 hash and continued his supper, making a final remark 
 as he ate.
 
 336 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Langwidge ? Gee ! I pass." 
 
 And during the rest of the meal " hog " found no 
 place. They discussed the topic of the day threadbare. 
 The night-riders filled their thoughts to the exclusion 
 of all else, and Tresler learned the details of their re- 
 cent exploits, and the opinion of each man on the out- 
 rages. Even Teddy Jinks, youthful and only "slushy " 
 as he was, was listened to, so absorbed were these men 
 in their cattle world. 
 
 " It's my belief," that reedy youth said, with pro- 
 found finality, " they're working fer a bust up. I'd 
 gamble one o' Arizona's hogs to a junk o' sow-belly 
 ther' ain't no more of them rustlers around come the 
 fall. Things is hot, an' they're goin' to hit the trail, 
 takin' all they ken get right now." 
 
 It was good to be listening to the rough talk of these 
 fellows again. So good that Tresler prolonged this, 
 his first meal with them after such a long absence, to 
 the last possible minute. Then he reluctantly filled his 
 pipe, put away his plate and pannikin, and strolled over 
 to the barn in company with Arizona. He went to in- 
 spect his mare ; he was fond and justly proud of her. 
 With all her vagaries of temper she was a wonderful 
 beast. Arizona had told him how she had brought 
 both of them into the ranch from Willow Bluff on that 
 memorable night. 
 
 " Guess it's a real pity that sheriff feller hadn't got 
 her when he hit Red Mask's trail," observed Ari- 
 zona, while he watched Tresler gently pass his hands 
 over each leg in turn. " Clean, eh ? " he asked pres- 
 ently.
 
 HOT UPON THE TRAIL 337 
 
 " Yes. The limbs of a race-horse. Has she been 
 ridden while I've been sick?" 
 
 " Nope ; she's jest stood guzzlin' oats." 
 
 " I shall have a time when I get into the saddle 
 again." 
 
 They moved out and stood at the door in full view 
 of the house. The evening was drawing in. The sun 
 was on the horizon, and the purple night shades were 
 rising out over the eastern sky. 
 
 " Arizona," Tresler said a little later, " I've got an 
 unpleasant task before me. I've just seen Marbolt 
 pass the window of his den. I want a few words with 
 him. I think I'll go now." 
 
 " 'Bout the leddy ? " inquired the cowpuncher. 
 
 " You've struck it." 
 
 " Wai, git right along. I'd sooner it wus you than 
 me, I guess. Howsum, I'll set right hyar. Mebbe I'll 
 be handy ef you're wantin' me." 
 
 Tresler laughed. " Oh, it's all right," he said. " I'm 
 not dealing with Jake." 
 
 " Nope," replied the other, settling himself on a sad- 
 dle-tree. Then, after a thoughtful pause, " which is 
 regret' ble." 
 
 Tresler walked away in the direction of the house. 
 He was weak, and did the journey slowly. Nor did he 
 feel comfortable. However, he was doing what he 
 knew to be right, and, as he ruefully reminded himself, 
 it was seldom pleasant to do one's duty. His object 
 was simply a matter of form, but one which omitted 
 would give Marbolt reason for saying things. Besides, 
 in justice to Danny and himself he must ask her fa-
 
 338 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 ther's consent to their engagement. And as he thought 
 of the uselessness of it he laughed bitterly to himself. 
 Did not the rancher know ? And had he not fully ex- 
 plained his views on the matter ? 
 
 Arizona watched Tresler wabbling unsteadily toward 
 the house and applied many mental epithets of an un- 
 complimentary nature on his " foolheadedness." Then 
 he was joined by Joe, who had also observed Tresler's 
 visit. 
 
 The little man waved a hand in the direction of the 
 retreating figure. 
 
 " Wher's he goin' ? " he asked. 
 
 " Guess it's 'bout the leddy," replied Arizona, 
 shortly. 
 
 " An' he wus boosted out 'cause of her," the other 
 said significantly. " Kind o' minds you of one o' them 
 terriers." 
 
 " Yup. Or a cow wi' a ca'f." 
 
 " On'y he don't make no fuss. Guess it's a terrier." 
 
 And Joe accompanied his final decision with an em- 
 phatic nod. 
 
 Meanwhile the object of their remarks had made his 
 way to the house and stood before the blind arbiter of 
 his fate in the latter's little office. The rancher was 
 sitting at his table with his face directed toward the 
 window, and his red eyes staring at the glowing sun- 
 set. And so he remained, in spite of Tresler's blunt 
 announcement of himself. 
 
 " It is necessary for me to see you, Mr. Marbolt," he 
 said. 
 
 And he stood waiting for his answer. It came, after
 
 HOT UPON THE TRAIL 339 
 
 some moments, in a tone that offered no encourage- 
 ment, but was more civil than he expected. 
 
 " Since you say so, I suppose it is." 
 
 Quite indifferent and certainly undaunted, Tresler 
 proceeded 
 
 " You have already been informed how matters stand 
 between your daughter and myself." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I am here, then, to formally ask your consent to 
 our engagement." 
 
 The red eyes moved from their contemplation of 
 the sunset, and their dead, leech-like stare fixed 
 itself upon the undisturbed face of the would-be son-in- 
 law. 
 
 " Tresler," the man said, in a manner that left little 
 to the imagination, " I have only one answer for you. 
 You have become offensive to me on this ranch, and I 
 shall be glad if you will remove yourself as quickly as 
 possible. I shall refund you the money you have paid, 
 and your agreement can be torn up." 
 
 " Then you will not consider my proposal ? " 
 
 " I have already answered you." 
 
 Tresler looked hard at the face before him. Mask- 
 like as it was, it yet conveyed something of the fierce 
 temper behind it. He was glad he saw something of 
 it, for he felt more justified in the heat of his own feel- 
 ings. The man's words were a studied insult, and he 
 was not one to submit to insults from anybody. 
 
 "I emphatically refuse, then, to remove my offensive 
 person," he replied, with a great assumption of calm- 
 ness. " Furthermore, I will not entertain the return of
 
 340 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 my premium. I am here for three years' instruction, 
 already paid for. That instruction I demand. You 
 will understand it is not in your power to have my of- 
 fensive person removed either legally or forcibly. The 
 latter especially, since it would cost you far more than 
 you would find it pleasant to pay." 
 
 He expected to witness one of those outbursts of fury 
 such as the blind man had recently displayed toward 
 Jake in his presence. But nothing of the kind hap- 
 pened. His manner remained the same. 
 
 " I am sorry," he said, with something almost like a 
 smile. " You drive me to an alternative, which, if less 
 convenient, is perhaps, on the whole, more satisfactory. 
 My daughter will have to go. I was prepared for this, 
 and have already made arrangements for her to visit 
 certain friends this day fortnight, for an indefinite 
 period. You quite understand, Tresler, you will not 
 see her again. She will remain away until you leave 
 here. Of course, in the meantime, should you take it 
 into your head to follow her, you are clear-headed 
 enough to see that your agreement with me would be 
 broken. Then she would return at once, and the ques- 
 tion of force to keep you apart would be entirely in my 
 hands. Further, I must tell you that while she is 
 away she will be living in an obscure settlement many 
 miles from here, where all letters addressed to her will 
 be opened before she receives them." 
 
 The blind man turned away, indicating that the in- 
 terview was ended, but Tresler stood his ground, 
 though he fully realized how thoroughly this man had 
 outwitted him.
 
 HOT UPON THE TRAIL 341 
 
 " At least she will be happier away from here," he 
 said significantly. 
 
 " I don't know," retorted the other, with diabolical 
 meaning. 
 
 Tresler's exasperation could no longer be restrained. 
 " Your conduct is inhuman to thus persecute a helpless 
 girl, your daughter." 
 
 " Ah, my daughter. Yes ? " 
 
 But the other gave no heed to the sneer. " You 
 have no right to stand between us," he went on angrily. 
 " You have no reasonable grounds. I tell you straight 
 I will not submit. When your daughter is of age I 
 will take her from this home, which is no home to her, 
 from you who have never been a father to her." 
 
 " True," assented the other, with an aggravating 
 calmness. 
 
 " You will have no power to interfere then. The 
 law " 
 
 " Enough of this nonsense," the rancher interrupted, 
 with his first sign of impatience. " You'll never marry 
 Diane while I live. Take it from me. Now get out ! " 
 
 And somehow, in spite of himself, Tresler found him- 
 self outside the house and moving in the direction of 
 the bunkhouse at the most rapid pace his weakness 
 permitted. But before he reached his destination Jake 
 intercepted him, and he had little doubt in his mind 
 that the man had seen him go to the house and had 
 waited for his return. 
 
 "Wai?" he said, drawling out his inquiry, as 
 though the contemplation of the answer he would re- 
 ceive gave him more than ordinary satisfaction.
 
 342 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Guess blind hulks is a pretty hard man to deal with, 
 eh ? You're goin' to quit us ?" 
 
 Tresler was in no mood for this man's sneers. " No," 
 he said. " On the contrary, I stay till my time's out." 
 
 Jake could not conceal his surprise and chagrin. 
 " You ain't quittin' ? " 
 
 " No." Tresler really enjoyed his discomfiture. 
 
 " An' you're goin' " 
 
 " No." A thought suddenly occurred to him. He 
 could hand something on to this man. " Miss Marbolt 
 is going to be sent away until such time as I leave this 
 ranch. Nearly three years, Jake," he finished up ma- 
 liciously. 
 
 Jake stood thoughtfully contemplating the other's 
 shrunken figure. He displayed no feeling, but Tresler 
 knew he had hit him hard. 
 
 " An' she's goin', when ? " he asked at last. 
 
 " This day fortnight." 
 
 " Ah. This day fortnight." 
 
 After that Jake eyed his rival as though weighing 
 him up in his mind along with other things ; then he 
 said quietly 
 
 " Guess he'd best have sent her right now." And, 
 with this enigmatical remark, he abruptly went back 
 to his shack. 
 
 A week saw Tresler in the saddle again. His recu- 
 perative powers were wonderful. And his strength 
 returned in a manner which filled his comrades with 
 astonishment. Fresh air and healthy work served as 
 far better tonics than anything the horse-doctor had 
 given him.
 
 HOT UPON THE TRAIL 343 
 
 And the week, at least to Tresler, was full of portent. 
 True, the rustlers had been quiet, but the effect of their 
 recent doings was very apparent. The sheriff was now 
 in constant communication with the ranch. Fyles 
 visited Julian Marbolt frequently, holding long consul- 
 tations with him; and a significant fact was that his 
 men made the place a calling station. He realized 
 that the long arm of the law was seriously at work, 
 and he wondered in what direction the real object lay, 
 for he quite understood that these open movements, in 
 all probability, cloaked the real suspicions. Both he 
 and Joe were of opinion that the sheriff was acting on 
 some secret information, and they puzzled their heads 
 to fathom the depths of the wily officer's motives. 
 
 Then happened something that Tresler had been 
 expecting for some time. He had not seen Fyles 
 to speak to since the Willow Bluff incident, and this 
 had caused him some wonder. Therefore, one day 
 while out on a distant pasture, rounding up a small 
 bunch of yearlings, he was in no way surprised to see 
 the farmer-like figure of the sheriff appear over the 
 brow of a rising ground, and canter his raw-boned 
 horse down toward him. 
 
 And that meeting was in the nature of an eye-opener 
 to Tresler. He learned something of the machinery 
 that was at work ; of the system of espionage that was 
 going on over the whole district, and the subtle means 
 of its employment. He learned, amongst other things, 
 something of what Jake was doing. How he was in 
 constant touch with a number of half-breeds of the 
 most disreputable type, and that his doings were of the
 
 344 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 most underground nature. He also learned that his 
 own personal efforts in conveying warning before Wil- 
 low Bluff were more than appreciated, and, finally, that 
 Fyles wanted him to further act in concert with him. 
 
 Acceding to the officer's request he was then in- 
 formed of certain other things for his future guidance. 
 And when the man had gone, disappearing again over 
 the rising ground, in the same ghostly fashion that he 
 had appeared, he looked after him, and, in reviewing 
 all he had heard, marveled how little he had been told, 
 but what a lot had been suggested, and how devilish 
 smart that farmer-like man, in spite of his recent fail- 
 ures, really was. 
 
 And during those days Tresler heard very little from 
 Diane ; which little came from Joe Nelson. Now and 
 again she sent him a grief-stricken note alluding to her 
 departure. She told him, although Joe had done so 
 already, that her father had brought Anton into the 
 house for the express purpose of preventing any com- 
 munication with him, Tresler, and to generally keep 
 sentry over her. She told him much that made his 
 heart bleed for her, and made him spend hours at night 
 writing pages of cheering messages to her. There 
 was no help for it. He was powerless to do more than 
 try to console her, and he frequently found himself 
 doubting if the course he had selected was the right 
 one ; if he were not aggravating her position by re- 
 maining on the ranch. His reason told him that it was 
 surely best. If she had to go away, she would, at 
 least, be free of Jake, and, no matter what condition 
 the people to whom she was to be sent, no worse as-
 
 HOT UPON THE TRAIL 345 
 
 sociations than the combination of the blind man and 
 his mate could possibly be found for her anywhere. 
 
 It was a poor sort of consolation with which he bol- 
 stered himself, and he spent many miserable hours 
 during those last few days. Once he had said to Joe, 
 44 If I could only see her for a few minutes it might be 
 some measure of comfort to us both." But Joe had 
 shaken his gray head. " It ain't no use," he said. 
 44 You can't take no chances foolin' wi' Anton around. 
 'Sides, things might be wuss," he finished up, with a 
 considerable emphasis. 
 
 And so Tresler had to be content ; ill at ease, chafing, 
 but quite powerless. In truth the rancher had out- 
 witted him with a vengeance ; moreover, what he had 
 said he soon showed that he meant, for Joe brought 
 him the news, two days before the date fixed for de- 
 parture, that Diane was making her preparations, and 
 had even begun to pack up. 
 
 And all this time Jake was very cheerful. The men 
 on the ranch never remembered an easier time than 
 the foreman was giving them now. He interfered very 
 little with the work, and, except at the morning muster, 
 they hardly saw anything of him. Tresler he never 
 came near. He seemed to have forgotten that he had 
 ever discussed Anton with him. It may have been 
 that that discussion had only been inspired on the im- 
 pulse of the moment, or it may have been and Tresler 
 thought this far more likely he had deeper plans. 
 However, the man, in face of Diane's departure, was 
 unusually cheerful, and the wise old Joe quickly ob- 
 served the fact.
 
 346 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 For Joe to observe anything of interest was the 
 cue for him to inquire further, and thus he set him- 
 self to watch Jake. And his watching quicky resulted 
 in Tresler's attention being called to Jake's movements 
 at night. Joe found that night after night Jake left the 
 ranch, always on foot, but he left it for hours at a time. 
 Twice during the last week he did not return until day- 
 light. All this was more than interesting, but nothing 
 developed to satisfy their curiosity until the last day of 
 Diane's stay on the ranch. Then Jake visited her, 
 and, taking her out of the kitchen, had a long confab- 
 ulation with her in the open. Joe watched them, but, 
 much to his disgust, had no means of learning the 
 man's object. However, there was only one thing for 
 him to do, and he did it without delay : he hurried 
 down to convey his news to Tresler, who was having 
 supper at the bunkhouse. 
 
 Taking him on one side he imparted his tidings 
 hurriedly. And in conclusion spoke with evident 
 alarm. 
 
 " Ther's suthin' doin'," he said, in,*for him, quite a 
 condition of excitement. " I can't locate it nohow. 
 But Jake, he's that queer. See, he's jest gone right 
 into his shack. Ther's suthin' doin', sure." 
 
 "And didn't you ask her what it was all about ?" 
 asked Tresler, catching something of the other's 
 manner. 
 
 " Wai, no. That is, I guess I mentioned it like, but 
 Miss Dianny wus that flustrated an' kind o' angry she 
 jest went right up to her room, an' I thought best to 
 git around hyar,"
 
 HOT UPON THE TRAIL 347 
 
 Tresler was thinking hard ; and while he thought he 
 stood watching the door where they had both seen 
 Jake disappear. It occurred to him to go and seek 
 Diane for himself. Poor girl, she would surely tell 
 him if there were anything wrong. After all, he had 
 the right to know. Then he thought of Anton. 
 
 " Was Anton ? " 
 
 He had turned to Joe, but his remark was cut short. 
 Jake's door suddenly opened and the foreman came 
 hurriedly out. Joe caught his companion by the arm, 
 and they both looked after the giant as he strode away 
 toward the barn. And they simultaneously became 
 aware of something unsteady in his gait. Joe was the 
 first to draw attention to it. 
 
 " Say, he's bin drinking" he whispered, in an awed 
 manner. 
 
 Tresler nodded. This was something quite new. 
 Jake, with all his faults, was not usually given to drink. 
 On the contrary, he was a particularly sober man. 
 
 Tresler swiftly made up his mind. " I'm going to 
 see what's up, Joe," he said. " Do you see ? He's 
 making for Marbolt's stable." 
 
 It was almost dusk. The men had settled down to 
 their evening's occupations. Tresler and Joe were 
 standing alone in the shadow of the bunkhouse wall. 
 The lamp was lit within the building, and the glow 
 from the window, which was quite near them, dark- 
 ened the prospect still further. However, Tresler still 
 could see the foreman, an indistinct shadow in the 
 growing darkness. 
 
 Leaving his companion without further remark he
 
 348 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 hurried after the disappearing man and took up his 
 position near the barn, whence he could both see and 
 hear what might be going forward. 
 
 Jake reached the door of the stable and knocked on 
 it in a forceful and peremptory manner.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 BY THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP 
 
 IMPELLED by curiosity and nervous anticipation 
 Tresler did not long remain in the shelter of the barn. 
 It was too dark to see distinctly all that way off, so he 
 closed up on the object of his watch. He intended to 
 miss nothing of what was happening, so he crept out 
 into the open, quite careless of the chances of being 
 discovered at his undignified occupation. 
 
 And all the time he was a prey to unpleasant fore- 
 boding ; that unaccountable foreboding so truly pro- 
 phetic, which refuses to be shaken off. He knew that 
 disaster was in the air as surely as if it had all hap- 
 pened, and there was nothing left for him but to gaze 
 impotently upon the ruin. He had a certain amount 
 of reason for his fears, of course, but that reason was 
 largely speculative, and, had he been asked to state 
 definitely what he anticipated, on whom disaster was 
 to fall, he could not have answered with any real con- 
 viction. Something prompted him that Jake was to be 
 the central figure, the prime mover. But beyond that 
 his ideas were vague. The man's very summons at 
 the door was a positive aggravation, and suggested 
 possibilities. 
 
 An answer came with the abrupt opening of the sta- 
 ble door, which revealed the lithe figure of the dusky
 
 350 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 half-breed, framed in a setting of dingy yellow light 
 from the lantern within. He could see the insolent, 
 upward stare of the man's eyes as he looked up into 
 the great man's face ; nor at that moment could he 
 help thinking of all he had heard of "Tough" McCul- 
 loch. And the recollection brought him a further feel- 
 ing of uneasiness for the man who had thus come to 
 beard him in his own den. 
 
 But even while these thoughts passed swiftly through 
 his brain the bullying, hectoring tones of Jake's voice 
 came to him. They were unnecessarily loud, and there 
 was a thickness in them which corroborated the evidence 
 of his uneven gait. Jake had certainly been priming 
 himself with spirit. 
 
 "Where was you last night, Anton?" he heard him 
 ask. 
 
 "An* wrier* should I be, Mr. Jake?" came the half- 
 breed's sullen retort. 
 
 "That ain't no answer," the other cried, in a vicious 
 tone. 
 
 The half-breed shrugged with apparent indifference, 
 only there was no indifference in the resentful flash of 
 his eyes. 
 
 " I not answer to you," he said, in his broken way, 
 throwing as much insolence as he could into his 
 words. 
 
 Jake's fury needed no urging ; the spirit had wound 
 him up to the proper pitch. 
 
 " You black son-of-a ," he cried, " you shall an- 
 swer to me. For two pins I'd wring your blasted neck, 
 only I'm savin' that fer the rope. I'll tell you wher'
 
 BY THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP 351 
 
 you was last night. You wer' out. Out with the 
 horses. D'you hear? And you weren't at the Breed 
 camp neither. I know wher' you was." 
 
 " Guess you shoot your mouth off," Anton said, with 
 dangerous calmness. " Bah ! I tell you I stay right 
 hyar. I not out. You mad ! Voila ! " 
 
 Suddenly Jake's hand went up as though to strike 
 the man, but the blow did not fall. His arm dropped 
 to his side again ; for once caution saved him. Tres- 
 ler felt that had the blow fallen there might perhaps 
 have been a sudden and desperate end to the scene. 
 As it was he listened to Jake's final words, with every 
 nerve throbbing. 
 
 " You lie, you black son-of-a ; you lie ! " 
 
 And then he saw him swing round on his heel and 
 stride away to the rancher's house, as if he could no 
 longer control himself and sought safety in flight. 
 
 For the moment the watcher was so interested in the 
 half-breed that he lost the significance of the foreman's 
 going. Anton was still standing in the doorway, and 
 the expression of his face was plainly visible in the 
 lamplight. There was a saturnine grin about the lower 
 part of the features, but the black eyes were blazing 
 with a deep fire of hatred. He looked after the de- 
 parting man until he reached the verandah, then sud- 
 denly, as though an inspiration had moved him, he 
 vanished at a run within the stable. 
 
 Now Tresler became a ware of Jake's object. He had 
 mounted the verandah and was making for the door of 
 the house. And this sight moved him to immediate 
 action. Without a second thought he set off at a run
 
 352 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 to warn Diane of the visit. Why he wished to warn 
 her he did not know. Perhaps it was the result of 
 premonition, for he knew quite well that it was Jake's 
 custom to wait on his chief at about this time in the 
 evening. 
 
 He skirted the house well out of range of the light 
 of its windows, and came to the kitchen just in time to 
 hear the blind man calling to his daughter for a light. 
 And when Diane returned from obeying the order she 
 found him waiting for her. Her first feeling was one 
 of apprehension, then love overcame her fears and she 
 ran to him. 
 
 " Jack ! " she whispered softly. " You here ? " 
 
 He folded her in a bear-like embrace, and as she 
 raised her face to him to speak he stopped her with a 
 rain of kisses. The joy of the moment had driven the 
 object of his coming from his head, and they stood 
 heart to heart, lost in their mutual happiness, until 
 Jake's voice, raised in bitter imprecation, reached them 
 from the office. Then Tresler abruptly put her from 
 him. 
 
 "I had forgotten, dear," he said, in a whisper. 
 " No, don't close that door." Diane had moved over 
 to the door leading into the dining-room. " Leave it 
 open. It is on that account I am here." 
 
 "On what account?" the girl asked, in some per- 
 plexity. 
 
 " Jake. There's something up, and hark ! " 
 
 They stood listening. The foreman's voice was 
 raised again. But now Marbolt's broke in, sharp, in- 
 cisive. And the words were plainly audible.
 
 BY THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP 353 
 
 " Keep your voice down," he said. " D'you want the 
 girl to hear everything? You were always a blun- 
 derer, Jake." 
 
 " Blunderer be " But he nevertheless lowered 
 
 his tone, for the listeners could distinguish nothing 
 more. 
 
 " He's up to some devil's work," Tresler whispered, 
 after making sure they could hear no more. " Danny," 
 he went on eagerly, " I must slip into the hall and try 
 
 and hear what's going on. I must be ready to 
 
 Listen ! He's cursing again. Wait here. Not a 
 sound ; not a word ! There's going to be trouble." 
 
 And his assertion seemed to have reason enough, 
 for the rancher's sharp tones were now mingling with 
 the harsher note of the other, and both had raised their 
 voices again. Tresler waited for nothing now. He 
 tiptoed to the door and stood listening. Then he crept 
 silently out into the hall and stole along toward the 
 blind man's office. He paused as he drew near the 
 open door, and glanced round for some hiding-place 
 whence he could see within. The hall was unlit, and 
 only the faintest light reached it from the office. There 
 was a long, heavy overcoat hanging on the opposite 
 wall, almost directly in front of the door, and he made 
 for it, crossing the hall in the darkest part, and sidling 
 along in the shadow until he reached it. Here he drew 
 it in front of him, so that he only elongated its outline 
 and yet obtained a full view of the room. 
 
 Jake was not visible. And Tresler concluded that he 
 was sitting in the chair which he knew to be behind 
 the door. But the blind man was almost directly in
 
 354 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 front of him. He was seated beside the small window 
 table on which the lamp stood, a safety lamp, especially 
 reserved for his use on account of his blindness. His 
 ruddy eyes were staring in the direction in which Tres- 
 ler believed Jake to be sitting, and such was the effect 
 of that intent stare that the watching man drew well 
 within his cover, as though he feared the sightless 
 sockets would penetrate his hiding-place. 
 
 But even from this vantage ground he found his pur- 
 pose thwarted. Jake was talking, but his voice was so 
 low that it only reached him in a thick growl which 
 blurred his words into a hazy murmur. Therefore he 
 fixed his attention on the man facing him, watching, 
 and seeking information from his expression and gen- 
 eral attitude. 
 
 And what he beheld riveted his attention. What- 
 ever control the blind man had over himself and 
 Tresler had reason to know what wonderful control he 
 had his expression was quite unguarded now. There 
 was a devilish cruelty in every line in his hard, un- 
 yielding features. His sanguinary eyes were burning 
 with a curiously real live light probably the reflection 
 of the lamp on the table and his habitually knit brows 
 were scowling to an extent that the eyes beneath them 
 looked like sparks of living fire. And though he was 
 lounging comfortably back in his chair, without energy, 
 without alertness, and one arm was resting on the table 
 at his side, and his outstretched fingers were indolently 
 drumming out a tattoo on the bare wood, his breath 
 was coming short and fast, in a manner that belied his 
 attitude.
 
 BY THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP 355 
 
 Had Tresler only seen behind the door he would 
 have been startled, even alarmed. The inflamed Jake 
 was oblivious to everything but his own purpose. His 
 mind was set on the object of his talk, to the exclusion 
 of all else. Just then he had not the slightest fear of 
 the blind man. There was nothing of the submission 
 about him now that he had displayed once before in 
 Tresler's presence. It was the spirit he had imbibed 
 that had fortified him for the time. It is probable that 
 Jake, at that moment, had no fear of either man or 
 devil. 
 
 And, though Tresler could not distinguish a word, 
 his talk was braggart, domineering, and there was a 
 strong flavor of drink in its composition. But even so, 
 there was a relentless purpose in it, too. 
 
 " Ther' ain't no option fer you, Marbolt," Jake was 
 saying. "You've never given me an option, and I'm 
 not goin' to be such a blazing fool as to give you one. 
 God A'mighty, Marbolt, ther' never was a man treated 
 as I've been by you. We've been together fer donkey's 
 years, I guess. 'Way back in them old days, when we 
 was mates, before you was blind, before you was cranked 
 against 'most everybody, when we scrapped agin them 
 black-backs in the Indies side by side, when we quar- 
 reled an' made friends again, I liked you, Marbolt, an' 
 I worked honest by you. There wa'n't nothin' mean 
 to you, then, 'cept in handin' out dollars. I hadn't no 
 kick comin' those days. I worked fer so much, an' I 
 see I got it. I didn't ask no more, an' I guess I didn't 
 want. That's all right. Then you got blind an' you 
 changed round. That's where the rub come. I was no
 
 356 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 better than the rest to you. You fergot everything 
 that had gone. You fergot I was a square dealin' man 
 by you, an' since that time I've been dirt under your 
 feet. Psha ! it ain't no use in talkin' ; you know these 
 things just as well as I do. But you might have given 
 me a show. You might have treated me ' white.' It was 
 to your interest. I'd have stayed by you. I'd have 
 done good by you. An' I'd have been real sorry when 
 you died. But I ain't no use fer that sort o' thing 
 now. What I want I'm goin' to have, an' you've got 
 to give see ? It ain't a question of ' by-your-leave ' 
 now. I say right here I want your gal." 
 
 The man paused. But Marbolt remained undis- 
 turbed. He still beat an idle tattoo on the table, only 
 his hand had drawn nearer to the lamp and the steady 
 rapping of his fingers was a shade louder, as though 
 more nervous force were unconsciously finding outlet 
 in the movement. 
 
 " So you want my girl," he said, his lips scarcely 
 parting to let the tone of his voice pass. 
 
 " Ay," Jake said emphatically, " I want that gal as I 
 took out o' the water once. You remember. You said 
 she'd fell overboard, after I'd hauled her back on to the 
 ship out o' reach o' the sharks. That's what you said 
 after." 
 
 He paused significantly. If he had expected any 
 display from his hearer he must have been disap- 
 pointed. The other remained quite still except for 
 those moving fingers tapping their way nearer and 
 nearer the lamp. 
 
 " Go on."
 
 BY THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP 357 
 
 " Wai, I've told you how I stand, an' I've told you 
 how you stand," Jake proceeded, with his voice ever so 
 little raised. He felt that the other was too easy. And, 
 in his unimaginative way, he thought he had spoken 
 too gently. " An' I say again I want that gal fer my 
 wife. Time was when you would have been glad to be 
 quit of her, 'bout the time she fell overboard. Being 
 ready to part then, why not now ? I'm goin' to get her, 
 an' what do I pay in return ? You know. You'll 
 go on ranchin' in peace. I'll even stay your foreman 
 if you so want. I'll shut right down on the business we 
 both know of, an' you won't have nothin' to fear. It's 
 a fair an' square deal." 
 
 " A fair and square deal ; most generous." 
 
 Even Jake detected the sarcasm, and his anger rose at 
 once. But he gave no heed to those fingers which had 
 now transferred their attention to the brass body of the 
 lamp. 
 
 " I'm waitin' fer your answer," he said sharply. 
 
 Tresler now heard his words for the first time. 
 
 " Go slow, Jake, go slow," retorted the rancher. " I 
 like to digest the position thoroughly. You put it so 
 well." 
 
 The sarcasm had grown more fierce by reason of the 
 restraint the rancher was putting on himself. And this 
 restraint was further evident in the movement of the 
 hand which had now settled itself upon the body of 
 the lamp, and clutched it nervously. 
 
 Jake no longer kept check on himself. And his an- 
 swer came in a roar. 
 
 " You shall take my price, or "
 
 358 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Keep calm, you blundering jackass ! " the blind man 
 rasped between his clenched teeth. 
 
 " No, you don't, Mr. blasted Marbolt ! " cried Jake, 
 springing to his feet and moving out to the middle of 
 the room threateningly. " No, you don't ! " he cried 
 again ; " I've had enough of that. God's curse on 
 you for a low swine ! I'll talk no more ; it's ' yes ' or 
 ' no.' Remember " he bent over toward the sitting 
 man and pointed in his face with fierce delight " I am 
 
 your master now, an' ef you don't do as I say, by G ! 
 
 but I'll make you whine for mercy." 
 
 And Marbolt's answer came with a crash of brass and 
 smashing of glass, a leap of flame, then darkness, as he 
 hurled the lamp to the floor and extinguished it. It 
 came in silence, but a silence ruffled by the sound of 
 sudden movement. It came, as was only to be ex- 
 pected from a man like him, without warning, like the 
 silent attack of a puma, and with as deadly intent. 
 
 Tresler could see nothing, but he knew that death was 
 hovering over that room for some one. Suddenly he 
 heard the table dragged or pushed across the floor, and 
 Jake's voice, harsh with the effort of struggle, reached 
 him. 
 
 " You would, would you ? Right ; it's you or me ! " 
 
 At that moment the onlooker was about to rush for- 
 ward, for what purpose he had but the vaguest idea. 
 But even as he took the first step he felt himself seized 
 forcibly by the arm from behind. And Diane's voice 
 whispered in his ear. 
 
 " Not you, Jack ! " she said eagerly. " Leave it to 
 me ; I I can save him Jake."
 
 BY THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP 359 
 
 "Jake?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She was gone, and in an instant returned with the 
 lighted kitchen lamp, which she held aloft as she rushed 
 into the room. 
 
 Tresler was taken utterly by surprise. The girl's 
 movements were so sudden, so unexpected, and her 
 words so strange. 
 
 There she stood in the middle of the room with the 
 light held above her head like some statue. And all 
 the signs of a deadly struggle were about her. Jake 
 was sheltered behind the window table, and stood 
 blinking in the sudden light, staring at her in blank as- 
 tonishment. But the chief figure of interest was the 
 blind man. He was groping about the opposite edge 
 of the table, pitifully helpless, but snarling in im- 
 potent and thwarted fury. His right hand was still 
 grasping the hilt of a vicious-looking, two-edged 
 hunting-knife, whose point Tresler saw was dripping 
 blood. 
 
 Suddenly he turned fiercely on the girl. For the mo- 
 ment he had been held silent, confounded, but now his 
 voice rang out in an access of fury. 
 
 " You jade ! " he cried, and moved as though to at- 
 tack her. 
 
 Tresler was about to leap to her assistance, but at 
 that instant the man's attention was suddenly diverted. 
 Jake saw his chance and made for the door. With a 
 bitter imprecation the blind man lunged at him as he 
 went, fell against the table, and stumbled almost to the 
 ground. Instantly the girl took advantage of his posi-
 
 360 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 tion and followed Jake out, slamming the door behind 
 her and swiftly turning the key as she went. 
 
 Diane had shown herself in a new light. Her pres- 
 ence of mind was startling, and the whole thing was 
 enacted so swiftly that Tresler failed to grasp the full 
 meaning of it all. Jake had not seen him. In a blind 
 rush he had made for the hall door and passed out. 
 The only thing that seemed real to Tresler was Diane's 
 safety, and he caught her by the arm to take her to 
 the kitchen. But the girl's readiness would permit of 
 no such waste of time. 
 
 " No," she whispered quickly. " Leave me and fol- 
 low Jake. Joe is in the kitchen and will protect me if 
 need be. Quick ! " she went on, stamping her foot in 
 her excitement. " Go ! Look to him. There must be 
 no murder done here." 
 
 And Tresler was forced, much against his will, to 
 leave her. For the moment Diane had soared to a 
 height of alertness and ready action which was irresist- 
 ible. Without a word he went, passing out of the 
 front door. 
 
 Jake had left the verandah, and, in the moonlight, 
 Tresler could see him moving down the hill in the 
 direction of his shack. He followed him swiftly. But 
 he was too late^ The whole thing happened before his 
 very eyes, while he was yet too far off to stay the ruth- 
 less act, before his warning shout could serve. 
 
 He saw a figure dart out from the rancher's stable. 
 He saw it halt and stand. He saw one arm stretched 
 out, and he realized and shouted to Jake. 
 
 The foreman stood, turned, a pistol-shot rang out,
 
 BY THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP 361 
 
 and he fell on his face. Tresler ran forward, but before 
 he could reach him two more shots rang out, and a 
 third sent its bullet whistling past his own head. 
 
 He ran for the man who had fired them. He knew 
 him now ; it was Anton. But, fleet of foot, the half- 
 breed had reached the stable, where a horse stood 
 ready saddled. He saw him vault into the saddle, and 
 he saw him vanish into the adjacent woods. Then, at 
 last, he gave up the chase and ran back to the fallen 
 man. 
 
 Kneeling at his side he raised the great leonine head. 
 The man was alive, and he shouted to the men at the 
 bunkhouse for aid. But even as he called Jake spoke. 
 
 " It ain't no good," he said, in a hoarse tone. " I'm 
 
 done. Done up by that lyin' son-of-a , ' Tough ' 
 
 McCulloch. I might 'a' known. Guess I flicked him 
 sore." He paused as the sound of running feet came 
 from the bunkhouse and Arizona's voice was calling 
 to know Tresler's whereabouts. Then the foreman's 
 great frame gave a shiver. " Quick, Tresler," he said, 
 in a voice that had suddenly grown faint ; " ther' ain't 
 much time. Listen ! get around Widow Dangley's 
 place to-night two mornin' all " 
 
 There came a rattle of flowing blood in his throat 
 which blurred anything else he had to say. But he 
 had said sufficient. Tresler understood. 
 
 When Arizona came up Jake, so long the bully of 
 Mosquito Bend, had passed over the One- Way Trail. 
 He died shot in three places, twice in the chest and 
 once in the stomach. Anton, or rather "Tough" 
 McCulloch, had done his work with all the consummate
 
 362 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 skill for which he had once been so notorious. And, 
 as something of this flashed through Tresler's brain, 
 another thought came with it, prompted by the pres- 
 ence of Arizona, who was now on his knees beside him. 
 
 " It's Anton, Arizona," he said. " Jake riled him. 
 He shot him, and has bolted through the wood, back 
 there, mounted on one of Marbolt's horses. He's 
 making for the hills. Quick, here, listen ! the others 
 are coming. You know ' Tough ' McCulloch ? " 
 
 " Wai ? " There was an ominous ring in Arizona's 
 voice. 
 
 " You'd like to find him ? " 
 
 " Better'n heaven." 
 
 " Anton is ' Tough ' McCulloch." 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 "Jake, here. I didn't mention it before, because 
 because " 
 
 " Did you say the hills ? " 
 
 Arizona had risen to his feet. There was no emotion 
 in his manner. They might have been discussing the 
 most ordinary topic. Now the rest of the men crowded 
 round. And Tresler heard the rancher's voice calling 
 from the verandah to inquire into the meaning of the 
 shots. However, heedless of the others, he replied to 
 the cowpuncher's question. 
 
 " Yes," he said. 
 
 "Shake. S'long." 
 
 The two men gripped and Arizona faded away in the 
 uncertain light, in the direction of the barn. 
 
 And the dead Jake was borne by rough but gentle 
 hands into his own shack. And there was not one
 
 BY THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP 363 
 
 amongst those "boys " but would have been read) 7 and 
 eager to help him, if help had been possible. Even on 
 the prairie death atones for much that in life is voted 
 intolerable.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S 
 
 INSIDE the hut, where Jake had so long been master, 
 the boys were grouped round the bunk on which their 
 old oppressor was laid out ; the strong, rough fellows 
 were awed with the magnitude of the outrage. Jake, 
 Jake Harnach, the terror of the ranch, " done up." 
 The thought was amazing. Tresler was quietly strip- 
 ping clothes from the dead man's upper body to free 
 the wounds for the doctor's inspection, and Raw Har- 
 ris was close beside him, It was while in the midst of 
 this operation that the former came upon another 
 wound. Raw Harris also saw it, and at once drew his 
 attention. 
 
 " Guess I heerd four shots," he said. " Say, that 
 feller Anton was a daddy. Four of 'em, an' all found 
 their mark. I 'lows this one's on'y a graze. Might 'a' 
 bin done wi' a knife, et's so clean. Yes, sirree, he was a 
 daddy, sure." 
 
 As no one seemed inclined to contradict the state- 
 ment that Anton was a "daddy," and as the question 
 of four shots or three was of no vital interest to the on- 
 lookers, the matter passed unheeded. Only Tresler 
 found food for reflection. That fourth wound he knew 
 had not been inflicted by the half-breed. He remem
 
 AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S 365 
 
 bered the rancher's knife and its dripping point, and he 
 remembered Jake's cry, " You would, would you ! " 
 He needed no other explanation. 
 
 While the two men were still bending over their task 
 there was a slight stir at the open door. The silent 
 onlookers parted, leaving a sort of aisle to the bedside, 
 and Julian Marbolt came shuffling his way through 
 them, heralded by the regular tap, tap, of his guiding 
 stick. 
 
 It was with many conflicting emotions that Tresler 
 looked round when he heard the familiar sound. He 
 stared at the man as he might stare at some horrid 
 beast of prey, fascinated even against himself. It would 
 have been hard to say what feeling was uppermost 
 with him at the moment. Astonishment, loathing, ex- 
 pectation, and even some dread, all struggled for place, 
 and the combination held him silent, waiting for what 
 that hateful presence was to bring forth. He could 
 have found it in his heart to denounce him then and 
 there, only it would have served no purpose, and would 
 probably have done much harm. Therefore he con- 
 tented himself with gazing into the inflamed depths of 
 the man's mysterious eyes with an intentness he had 
 never yet bestowed upon them, and while he looked 
 all the horror of the scene in the office stole over him 
 again and made him shudder. 
 
 "Where is he where is Jake ? " the blind man asked, 
 halting accurately at the bedside. 
 
 The question was directed at no one in particular, 
 but Tresler took it upon himself to answer. 
 
 " Lying on the bed before you," he said coldly.
 
 366 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 The man turned on him swiftly. " Ah Tresler," he 
 said. 
 
 Then he bent over the bed, and his hands groped over 
 the dead man's body till they came into contact with 
 the congealing blood round the wound in his stomach. 
 
 With a movement of repulsion he drew back sharply. 
 " He's not dead ? " he questioned, with a queer eager- 
 ness, turning round to those about him. 
 
 " Yes, he is dead," replied Tresler, with unintentional 
 solemnity. 
 
 " Who who did it ? " 
 
 The question came in a tense voice, sharper and 
 more eagerly than the preceding one. 
 
 " Anton," chorused the men, as though finding re- 
 lief from their long silence in the announcement. The 
 crime was even secondary to the personality of the cul- 
 prit with them. Anton's name was uppermost in their 
 minds, and so they spoke it readily. 
 
 " Anton ? And where is he ? Have you got him ? " 
 
 The rancher had turned about, and addressed him- 
 self generally. 
 
 " Anton has made off with one of your horses," said 
 Tresler. "I tried to get him, but he had too much 
 start for me. I was on foot." 
 
 "Well, why are you all here? Have none of you 
 sense enough to get after him ? " 
 
 " Arizona is after him, and, until the sheriff comes, 
 he is sufficient He will never leave his trail." 
 
 There was no mistaking the significance Tresler con- 
 veyed in his last remark. The rancher took him up 
 sharply.
 
 AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S 367 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Arizona has no love for Anton." 
 
 " Ah ! And Jake. Who found him ? Who was there 
 when he died ? " 
 
 Marbolt's eyes had fixed themselves on Tresler's face. 
 And the latter had no hesitation in suiting his reply to 
 his own purpose. 
 
 " I found him dead ; quite dead. His death must 
 have been instantaneous." 
 
 "So." 
 
 Marbolt turned back to the bed. 
 
 The rancher stood over the dead man in silence for 
 some minutes. Then, to Tresler's horror, he broke out 
 into a low-voiced lamentation, the hypocrisy of which 
 made him want to seize him by the throat and choke 
 the words ere they were uttered. 
 
 " My poor old Jake ! " he said, with infinite pity. 
 " Poor old Jake ! " he repeated, addressing the dead 
 man sorrowfully. " I wish now I'd taken your advice 
 about that rascal and got rid of him. And to think 
 that you should be the man on whom he was to wreak 
 his treachery. I wonder how it came about. It must 
 have been that rough temper of yours. Tresler," he 
 cried, pointing to the still form on the bed, " there lies 
 the truest, the only friend I ever had. That man has 
 stood by me when all others left me. Yes, we've 
 fought side by side in the Indian days ; ay, and further 
 back still. I remember when he would have defended 
 me with his life ; poor Jake ! I suppose he had his 
 faults, the same as most of us have. Yes, and I wager 
 his temper took him foul of Anton. Poor old Jake !
 
 368 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 I suppose we shall never know the truth of this." He 
 paused. Then he cried fiercely, " Damn it! Men, every 
 one of you, I'll give a thousand dollars to the one who 
 brings Anton back, dead or alive. Dead from prefer- 
 ence, then he won't escape us. A thousand dollars. 
 Now, who?" 
 
 But Tresler could stand it no longer. " Don't trouble, 
 Mr. Marbolt," he said icily. " It is no use your offering 
 rewards. The man who has gone after Anton will 
 find him. And you can rest satisfied he'll take noth- 
 ing from you on that score. You may not know Ari- 
 zona ; I do." 
 
 " You are confident," the other retorted, resentful at 
 once. 
 
 " I have reason to be," came the decided answer. 
 
 Marbolt shook his close-cropped head. His resent- 
 ment had gone from his manner again. He had few 
 moods which he was unable to control at will. That 
 was how it seemed to Tresler. 
 
 " I hope truly it may be as you say. But I must 
 still doubt. However," he went on, in a lighter tone, 
 " in the meantime there is work to be done. The doc- 
 tor must be summoned. Send some one for doctor 
 and sheriff first thing to-morrow morning, Tresler. It 
 is no use worrying them to-night. The sheriff has his 
 night work to do, and wouldn't thank us for routing 
 him out now. Besides, nothing can be done until day- 
 light ! And the doctor is only needed to certify. Poor 
 old Jake ! " 
 
 He turned away with something very like a sigh, 
 Half-way to the door he paused.
 
 AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S 369 
 
 "Tresler, you take charge of things to-night Have 
 this door locked. And," he added, with redoubled 
 earnestness, " are you sure Arizona will hunt that man 
 down?" 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 Tresler smiled grimly. He fancied he understood 
 the persistence. 
 
 There was a moment's silence. Then the stick 
 tapped, and the rancher passed out under the curious 
 gaze of his men. Tresler, too, looked afrer him. Nor 
 was there any doubt of his feelings now. He knew 
 that his presence in the house during Marbolt's mur- 
 derous assault on Jake was unsuspected. And Mar- 
 bolt, villainous hypocrite that he was, was covering 
 his tracks. He loathed the blind villain as he never 
 thought to have loathed anybody. And all through 
 his thoughts there was a cold, hard vein of triumph 
 which was utterly foreign to his nature, but which was 
 quite in keeping with his feelings toward the man with 
 whom he was dealing. 
 
 As Julian Marbolt passed out the men kept silence, 
 and even when the distant tapping of his stick had 
 died away. Tresler looked round him at these hardy 
 comrades of his with something like delight in his eyes. 
 Joe was not there, which matter gave him satisfaction. 
 The faithful little fellow was at his post to care for 
 Diane. Now he turned to Harris. 
 
 " Raw," he said, " will you ride in for the doctor?'' 
 
 " He said t'-morrer," the man objected. 
 
 " I know. But if you'd care to do me a favor you'll 
 ride in and warn the doctor to-night, and then ride
 
 3/0 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 out to Widow Dangley's and meet us all there, cached 
 in the neighborhood." 
 
 The man stared ; every man in that room was in- 
 stantly agog with interest. Something in Tresler's tone 
 had brought a light to their eyes which he was glad to 
 see. 
 
 "What is 't?" asked Jacob, eagerly. 
 
 " Ay," protested Raw ; " no blurfin'." 
 
 " There's no bluffing about me," Tresler said quickly. 
 " I'm dead in earnest. Here, listen, boys. I want you 
 all to go out quietly, one by one. It's eight miles to 
 Widow Dangley's. Arrange to get there by half-past 
 one in the morning and don't forget your guns. 
 There's a big bluff adjoining the house," he suggested 
 significantly. " I shall be along, and so will the sheriff 
 and all his men. I think there'll be a racket, and we 
 may there, I can tell you no more. I refrained from 
 asking Marbolt's permission ; you remember what he said 
 once before. We'll not risk saying anything to him." 
 
 " I'm in to the limit," said Raw, with decision. 
 
 " Guess we don't want no limit to this racket. We'll 
 jest get right along," said Jacob, quietly. 
 
 And after that the men filed out one by one. And 
 when the last had gone, Tresler put the lamp out and 
 locked the door. Then he quietly stole up to the kitchen 
 and peered in at the window. Diane was there, so was 
 Joe, with two guns hanging to his belt. He had little 
 difficulty in drawing their attention. There was no 
 dalliance about his visit this time. He waived aside 
 the eager questions with which the girl assailed him, 
 and merely gave her a quiet warning.
 
 AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S 371 
 
 " Stay up all night, dear," he said, " but do not let 
 your father know it." 
 
 To Joe he said : "Joe, if you sleep a wink this night 
 I'll never forgive you." 
 
 Then he hurried away, satisfied that neither would 
 fail him, and went to the barn. Without a word, 
 almost without a sound, he saddled the Lady Jezebel. 
 
 His mare ready, he went and gazed long and ear- 
 nestly up at the rancher's house. He was speculating 
 in his mind as to the risk he was running. Not the 
 general risk, but the risk of success or failure in his 
 enterprise. 
 
 He waited until the last of the lights had gone out, 
 and the house stood out a mere black outline in the 
 moonlight, then he disappeared within the barn again, 
 and presently reappeared leading his fractious mare. 
 A few moments later he rode quietly off. And the 
 manner of his going brought a grim smile to his lips, 
 for he thought of the ghostly movements of the night- 
 riders as he had witnessed them. His way lay in a 
 different direction from that of his comrades. Instead of 
 taking the trail, as they had done, he skirted the upper 
 corral and pastures, and plunged into the black pine- 
 woods behind the house. 
 
 The Widow Dangley's homestead looked much more 
 extensive in the moonlight than it really was. Every- 
 thing was shown up, endowed with a curious silvery 
 burnish which dazzled the eyes till shadows became 
 magnified into buildings, and the buildings themselves
 
 372 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 distorted out of all proportion. Hers was simply a 
 comfortable place and quite unpretentious. 
 
 The ranch stood in a narrow valley, in the midst of 
 which a small brook gurgled its way on to the Mos- 
 quito River, about four miles distant. The valley was 
 one of those sharp cuttings in which the prairie abounds, 
 quite hidden and unmarked from the land above, lying 
 unsuspected until one chances directly upon it. It was 
 much like a furrow of Nature's ploughing, cut out to 
 serve as a drainage for the surrounding plains. It 
 wound its irregular course away east and west, a maze 
 of undergrowth, larger bluff, low red-sand cut-banks 
 and crumbling gravel cliffs, all scattered by a prodigal 
 hand, with a profusion that seemed wanton amidst the 
 surrounding wastes of grass-land. 
 
 The house stood on the northern slope, surrounded 
 on three sides by a protecting bluff of pinewoods. Then 
 to the right of it came the outbuildings, and last, at 
 least one hundred and fifty yards from the rest, came 
 the corrals, well hidden in the bluff, instead, as is usual, 
 of being overlooked by the house. Certainly Widow 
 Dangley was a confiding person. 
 
 And so Tresler, comparatively inexperienced as he 
 was, thought, as he surveyed the prospect in the moon- 
 light from the back of his mare. He was accompanied 
 by Sheriff Fyles, and the two men were estimating the 
 chances they were likely to have against possible in- 
 vaders. 
 
 " How goes the time?" asked the sheriff, after a few 
 moments' silent contemplation of the scene. 
 
 " You've half an hour in which to dispose your forces.
 
 AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S 373 
 
 Ah ! there's one of your fellows riding down the oppo- 
 site bank." Tresler pointed across the valley. 
 
 " Yes, and there's another lower down," Fyles ob- 
 served quietly. " And here's one dropping down to 
 your right. All on time. What of your men ? " 
 
 " They should be in yonder bluff, backing the cor- 
 rals." 
 
 " How many?" 
 
 " Four, including the cook." 
 
 " Four, and sixteen of mine twenty. Our two selves 
 twenty-two. Good ; come on." 
 
 The man led the way to the bluff. The cowboys 
 were all there. They received instructions to hold the 
 position at the corrals ; to defend them, or to act as re- 
 inforcements if the struggle should take place elsewhere. 
 Then the two leaders passed on down into the valley. 
 It was an awkward descent, steep, and of a loose sur- 
 face that shelved under their horses' feet. For the mo- 
 ment a cloud had obscured the moon, and Fyles looked 
 up. A southwesterly breeze had sprung up, and there 
 was a watery look about the sky. 
 
 " Good," he said again, in his abrupt manner. 
 " There won't be too much moon. Moonlight is not 
 altogether an advantage in a matter of this sort. We 
 must depend chiefly on a surprise. We don't want too 
 many empty saddles." 
 
 At the bottom of the valley they found the rest of the 
 men gathered together in the shelter of the scattered 
 undergrowth. It was Fyles's whole command. He 
 proceeded at once to divide them up into two parties. 
 One he stationed east of the ranch, split into a sort of
 
 374 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 skirmishing order, to act under Tresler's charge. The 
 other party he took for his own command, selecting an 
 advantageous position to the west. He had also estab- 
 lished a code of signals to be used on the approach of 
 the enemy ; these took the form of the cry of the screech- 
 owl. Thus, within a quarter of an hour after their arrival, 
 all was in readiness for the raiders, and the valley once 
 more returned to its native quiet. 
 
 And how quiet and still it all was ! The time crept 
 on toward the appointed hour. The moon was still high 
 in the heavens, but its light had grown more and more 
 uncertain. The clouds had become dense to a stormy 
 extent. Now and then the rippling waters of the brook 
 caught and reflected for a moment a passing shaft of 
 light, like a silvery rift in the midst of the valley, but 
 otherwise all was shadow. And in the occasional 
 moonlight every tree and bush and boulder was mag- 
 nified into some weird, spectral shape, distorting it from 
 plain truth into some grotesque fiction, turning the 
 humblest growth into anything from a grazing steer 
 to a moving vehicle ; from a prowling coyote to a log 
 hut. The music of the waking night-world droned on 
 the scented air, emphasizing the calm, the delicious 
 peace. It was like some fairy kingdom swept by strains 
 of undefined music which haunted the ear without mon- 
 otony, and peopled with shadows which the imagina- 
 tion could mould at its pleasure. 
 
 But in the eagerness of the moment all this was lost 
 to the waiting men. To them it was a possible battle- 
 ground ; with a view to cover, it was a strategic position, 
 and they were satisfied with it. The cattle, turned loose 
 
 \
 
 AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S 375 
 
 from the corrals, must pass up or down the valley ; 
 similarly, any number of men must approach from one 
 of these two directions, which meant that the ambush 
 could not be avoided. 
 
 At last the warning signal came. An owl hooted 
 from somewhere up the valley, the cry rising in weird 
 cadence and dying away lingeringly. And, at the same 
 time, there came the sound of a distant rumble, like the 
 steady drone of machinery at some far-off point. Tres- 
 ler at once gave up his watch on the east and centred 
 all attention upon the west. One of his own men had 
 answered the owl's cry, and a third screech came from 
 the guard at the corrals. 
 
 The rumble grew louder. There were no moving 
 objects visible yet, but the growing sound was less of a 
 murmur ; it was more detached, and the straining ears 
 distinctly made out the clatter of hoofs evidently trav- 
 eling fast down the valley trail. On they came, stead- 
 ily hammering out their measure with crisp precision. 
 It was a moment of tense excitement for those awaiting 
 the approach. But only a moment, although the sen- 
 sation lasted longer. The moon suddenly brought the 
 whole thing into reality. Suspense was banished with 
 its revealing light, and each man, steady at his post, 
 gripped his carbine or revolver, ready to pour in a 
 deadly fire the moment the word should be given. A 
 troop of about eighteen horsemen dashed round a bend 
 of the valley and plunged into the ambush. 
 
 Instantly Fyles's voice rang out. " Halt, or we fire ! " 
 he cried. 
 
 The horsemen drew rein at once, but the reply was
 
 376 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 a pistol-shot in the direction whence his voice had 
 sounded. The defiance was Tresler's signal. He 
 passed the word to his men, and a volley of carbine-fire 
 rang out at once, and confusion in the ranks of the 
 horsemen followed immediately. 
 
 Then the battle began in deadly earnest. The sher- 
 iff's men leapt into their saddles, and advanced both 
 in front and in rear of the trapped raiders. And the 
 cowpunchers came racing down from the corrals to hurl 
 themselves into the melee, whooping and yelling, as 
 only men of their craft can. 
 
 The fight waxed furious, but the odds were in favor 
 of the ambush. The clouded sky lent neither side much 
 assistance. Now and again the peeping moon looked 
 down upon the scene as though half afraid to show it- 
 self, and it was by those fleeting rays that the sheriff's 
 men leveled their carbines and poured in their deadly 
 fire. But the raiders were no mean foe. They fought 
 desperately, and were masters in the use of their 
 weapons. Their confusion of the first moment passed 
 instantly, and they rode straight at Tresler's line of de- 
 fense with a determination that threatened to over- 
 whelm it and force a passage. But the coming of the 
 cowpunchers stemmed the tide and hurled them back 
 on Fyles's force in their rear. Several riderless horses 
 escaped in the melee; nor were they only belonging to 
 the raiders. One of the " deputies " had dropped from 
 his saddle right beside Tresler, and there was no telling, 
 in the darkness, how many others had met with a similar 
 fate. Red Mask's gang had been fairly trapped, and 
 both sides meant to fight to a finish.
 
 AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S 377 
 
 All this time both Tresler and Fyles were looking out 
 for the leader, the man of all whom they desired to cap- 
 ture. But the darkness, which had favored the ambus- 
 cade, now defeated their object. In the mob of strug- 
 gling humanity it was difficult enough to distinguish 
 friend from foe, let alone to discover any one person. 
 The ranks of the " deputies " had closed right in and a 
 desperate hand-to-hand struggle was going on. 
 
 Tresler was caught in the midst of the tide, his crazy 
 mare had carried him there whether he would or no ; 
 but if she had carried him thus into deadly peril, she 
 was also ready to fight for him. She laid about her 
 royally, swept on, and reared plunging at every ob- 
 struction to her progress, her master thus escaping 
 many a shot, if it left him able to do little better than 
 fire at random himself. In this frantic fashion the mad- 
 dened creature tore her way through the thick of the 
 fight, and her rider was borne clear to the further out- 
 skirts. Then she tried to get away with him, but in 
 the nick of time, before her strong teeth had fixed them- 
 selves on the bit, he managed to head her once again 
 for the struggling mass. 
 
 With furious recklessness she charged forward, and, 
 as bad luck would have it, her wild career brought 
 about the worst thing possible. She cannoned vio- 
 lently into the sheriff's charger, while its rider was in 
 the act of leveling his revolver at the head of a man 
 wearing a red mask. The impact was within an ace of 
 bringing both horses and riders to the ground. The 
 mare was flung on her haunches, while Fyles, cursing 
 bitterly, clung desperately to his saddle to retain his
 
 378 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 seat. But his aim was lost, and his shot narrowly 
 missed his horse's head ; and, before either he or Tres- 
 ler had recovered himself, the red masked man had 
 vanished into the darkness, heading- for the perilous 
 ascent of the valley side. 
 
 Terrified out of her life the Lady Jezebel turned 
 swinging round on her haunches, and charged down 
 the valley ; and as she went Tresler had the question- 
 able satisfaction of seeing the sheriff detach himself 
 from the mob and gallop in pursuit of the raider. 
 
 His own blood was up now, and though the mare 
 had got the bit in her teeth he fought her with a fury 
 equal to her own. He knew she was mistress of the 
 situation, but he simply would not give in. He would 
 kill her rather than she should get away with him this 
 time. And so, as nothing else had any effect on her, 
 he snatched a pistol from its holster and leant over 
 and pounded the side of her head with the butt of it in 
 a wild attempt to turn her. At first she gave not the 
 smallest heed to his blows ; such was her madness. 
 But presently she flinched under them and turned her 
 head away, and her body responded to the movement. 
 In another moment he had her round, and as she faced 
 the side of the valley where the raider had disappeared, 
 he slashed her cruelly with his spurs. In a moment 
 the noise of the battle was left behind him, and the 
 mare, with cat-like leaps, was breasting the ascent. 
 
 And Tresler only thought of the man he was in 
 pursuit of. His own neck or the neck of his mare 
 mattered nothing to him then. Through him, or 
 through the mare, they had lost Red Mask. He must
 
 AT WIDOW DANGLEY'S 379 
 
 rectify the fault. He had no idea how. His brain was 
 capable of only one thought pursuit ; and he thanked 
 his stars for the sure-footed beast under him. Nothing 
 stopped her ; she lifted to every obstruction. A cut- 
 bank had no terrors for her, she simply charged it with 
 her great, strong hoofs till the gravel and sand poured 
 away under them and left her a foothold. Bushes 
 were trampled down or plunged through. Blindly she 
 raced for the top, at an angle that made her rider cling 
 to the horn of his saddle to keep himself from sliding 
 off over the cantle. 
 
 They passed Fyles struggling laboriously to reach 
 the top. The Lady Jezebel seemed to shoot past him 
 and leave him standing. And as he went Tresler 
 called out 
 
 " How much start has he ? '' 
 
 " He's topping it now," the sheriff replied. 
 
 And the answer fired Tresler's excitement so that he 
 again rammed both spurs into the mare's flanks. The 
 top of the hill loomed up against the sky. A thick 
 fringe of bush confronted them. Head down, nose 
 almost touching the ground, the mad animal plunged 
 into it. Her rider barely had time to lie down in his 
 saddle and cling to her neck. His thoughts were in a 
 sort of mental whirlpool and he hardly realized what 
 had happened, when, the next moment, the frenzied 
 demon under him plunged out on to the open prairie. 
 
 She made no pause or hesitation, but like a shot 
 from a gun swept on straight as the crow flies, her nose 
 alone guiding her. She still held the bit in her jaws ; 
 her frolic had only just begun. Tresler looked ahead
 
 380 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 and scanned the sky-line, but the darkness obscured 
 all signs of his quarry. 
 
 He had just made up his mind to trust to chance 
 and the captious mood of his mare when the moon, 
 crossing a rift in the clouds, gave him a sort of flash- 
 light view of the horizon. It only lasted a few seconds, 
 but it lasted long enough for him to detect a horseman 
 heading for the Mosquito River, away to the right, 
 with a start that looked like something over a mile. 
 His heart sank at the prospect But the next instant 
 hope bounded within him, for the mare swung round 
 of her own accord and stretched herself for the race. 
 
 He understood. She had recognized the possibility 
 of company ; and few horses, whatever their temper, 
 can resist that. 
 
 He leaned over and patted her shoulder, easing her 
 of his weight like a jockey. 
 
 " Now, you she-devil," he murmured affectionately, 
 " behave yourself for once, and go go like the fiend 
 you are 1 "
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE PURSUIT OF RED MASK 
 
 A MILE start ; it would seem an impossible advan- 
 tage. Even with a far better horse in pursuit, how 
 many miles must be covered before that distance could 
 be made up ? Could the lost ground be regained in 
 eight miles ? It looked to be out of the question even 
 to Tresler, hopeful of his mare as he was, and knowing 
 her remarkable turn of speed. Yet such proved to be 
 the case. Eight miles saw him so close on the heels 
 of the raider that there was nothing left for the fugitive 
 but to keep on. 
 
 He felt no surprise that they were traversing the 
 river trail. He even thought he knew how he could 
 head his man off by a short cut. But this would not 
 serve his purpose. He wanted to get him red-handed, 
 and to leave him now would be to give him a chance 
 that he was confident would be taken advantage of at 
 once. The river trail led to the ranch. And the only 
 branches anywhere along its route were those running 
 north and south at the ford. 
 
 Steadily he closed up, foot by foot, yard by yard. 
 Sometimes he saw his quarry, sometimes he was only 
 guided by the beat of the speeding hoofs. Now that 
 he was urging her, the Lady Jezebel had relinquished 
 the bit, not only willing, but bursting to do better than
 
 382 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 her best. No rider could resist such an appeal. And 
 as they went Tresler found himself talking to her with 
 an affection that would have sounded ridiculous to any 
 but a horseman. It made him smile to see her ears 
 laid back, not in the manner of a horse putting forth 
 its last efforts, but with that vicious air she always had, 
 as though she were running open-mouthed at Jacob 
 Smith, as he had seen her do in the corral on his intro- 
 duction to her. 
 
 When they came to the river ford he was a bare 
 hundred yards in the wake of his man. Here the road 
 turned off for the ranch, and the trees met overhead 
 and shut out the light of the moon. It was pitch 
 black, and he was only guided by the sound of the 
 other horse in front. Abreast of the ford he became 
 aware that this sound had abruptly died out, and at the 
 bend of the trail he pulled up and listened acutely. 
 They stood thus, the mare's great body heaving under 
 him, until her rider caught the faint sound of breaking 
 bush somewhere directly ahead of them. 
 
 Instantly recollection came to his help, and he 
 laughed as he turned the mare off the trail and plunged 
 into the scrub. It was the spot where, once before, he 
 had taken, unwillingly, to the bush. There was no 
 hesitation, no uncertainty. They raced through the 
 tangle, and threaded their way on to the disused trail 
 they had both traveled before. 
 
 The fugitive had gained considerably now, and 
 Tresler, for the first time since the race had begun, 
 asked his mare for more pace. She simply shook her 
 head, snorted, and swished her tail, as though protest-
 
 THE PURSUIT OF RED MASK 383 
 
 ing that the blow was unnecessary. She could not do 
 the impossible, and that he was asking of her. But 
 his forcible request was the nervous result of his 
 knowledge that the last lap of the race had been en- 
 tered upon and the home stretch was not far off. It 
 must be now or never. 
 
 He soon realized that the remaining distance was all 
 too short. As he came to the place where the forest 
 abruptly terminated, he saw that day had broken. 
 The gray light showed him to be still thirty yards or so 
 behind. 
 
 They had reached the broken lands he remembered 
 so well. Before him stretched the plateau leading to 
 the convergence of the river and the cliff. It was the 
 sight of this which gave him an inspiration. He re- 
 membered the branching trail to the bridge, also the 
 wide sweep it took, as compared with the way he had 
 first come. To leap the river would gain him fifty 
 yards. But in that light it was a. risk a grave risk. 
 He hesitated. Annoyed at his own indecision, he de- 
 termined to risk everything on one throw. The other 
 horse was distinctly lagging. He reached down and 
 patted his mare's neck. And that simple action re- 
 stored his confidence ; he felt that she was still on top 
 of her work. The river would have no terrors for her. 
 
 He saw the masked man turn off for the bridge, but 
 he held straight on. He gave another anxious look at 
 the sky. The dull gray was still unbroken by any 
 flush of sunrise, but it was lighter, certainly. The mask 
 of clouds was breaking, though it still contrived to keep 
 daylight in abeyance. He had no option but to settle
 
 384 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 himself in the saddle for the great effort. Light or no 
 light, he could not turn back now. 
 
 And for the while he forgot the fugitive. His mind 
 centred on the river ahead, and the moment when his 
 hand must lend the mare that aid, without which he 
 could not hope, after her great journey, to win the far 
 bank. His nerve was steady, and his eyes never more 
 alert. Everything was distinct enough about him. 
 The bushes flying by were clearly outlined now, and he 
 fancied he could already see the river's line of demarka- 
 tion. On they raced, he leaning well forward, she with 
 her ears pricked, attentive to the murmurs of the water 
 already so near. Unconsciously his knees gripped the 
 leggaderos of his saddle with all the power he could 
 put into the pressure, and his body was bent crouch- 
 ing, as though he were about to make the spring him- 
 self. 
 
 And the moment came. He spurred and lifted ; and 
 the game beast shot forward like a rocket. A moment, 
 and she landed. But the half lights must have de- 
 ceived her. She had jumped further than before, and, 
 crashing into a boulder with her two fore feet, she 
 turned a complete somersault, and fell headlong to the 
 ground, hurling her rider yards out of the saddle into 
 the soft loose sand of the trail beyond. 
 
 Quite unhurt, Tresler was on his feet in an instant 
 But the mare lay still where she had fallen. A hopeless 
 feeling of regret swept over the man as he turned and 
 beheld her. He saw the masked rider dash at the hill- 
 side on his weary horse, not twenty yards from him, but 
 he gave him no heed.
 
 THE PURSUIT OF RED MASK 385 
 
 It needed no look into the mare's glazing eyes to tell 
 him what he had done. He had killed her. The first 
 really honest act of her life had led to the unfortunate 
 creature's own undoing. Her lean ewe neck was 
 broken, as were both her forelegs. 
 
 The moment he had ascertained the truth he left her, 
 and, looking up at the hill, saw that it was high time. 
 The rider had vanished, but his jaded horse was stand- 
 ing half-way up the hillside in the mire of loose sand. 
 It was either too frightened or too weary to move, and 
 stood there knee-deep, a picture of dejection. 
 
 The task of mounting to the ledge was no light one, 
 but Tresler faced it without a second thought. The 
 other had only something less than a minute's start of 
 him, and as there was only one other exit to the place 
 and that, he remembered, of a very unpromising 
 nature he had few fears of the man's ultimate escape. 
 No, there was no escape for him ; and besides a smile 
 lit up the hard set of his features at the thought day- 
 light had really come. The clouds had at last given 
 way before the rosy herald of sunrise. 
 
 The last of the ascent was accomplished, and, breath- 
 ing hard, Tresler stepped on to the gravel-strewn 
 plateau, gun in hand. He felt glad of his five-cham- 
 bered companion. Those rough friends of his on the 
 ranch were right. There was nothing so compelling, 
 nothing so arbitrary, nor so reassuring to the possessor 
 and confounding to his enemies, as a gun well handled. 
 
 The ledge was empty. He looked at the towering 
 cliff, but there was no sign of his man in that direction. 
 He moved toward the hut, but at the first step the door
 
 386 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 of the dugout was flung wide, and Julian Marbolt, gun 
 in hand, dashed out. 
 
 He came with a rush, without hesitation, confidently ; 
 but as the door was thrown open, and the flood of day- 
 light shone down upon him, he fell back with a bitter 
 cry of despair, and Tresler knew that he had not 
 reckoned on the change from comparative darkness to 
 daylight. He needed no further proof of what he had 
 come to suspect. The rancher was only blind in the 
 presence of strong light ! 
 
 For a second only he stood cowering back, then, feel- 
 ing his way, he darted with miraculous rapidity round 
 the side of the building, and scrambled toward the dizzy 
 staircase in the rock. 
 
 Tresler challenged him at once, but he paid no heed. 
 He had reached the foot of the stairway, and was climb- 
 ing for life and liberty. The other knew that he ought 
 to have opened fire on him, but the old desire to trust 
 to his hands and bodily strength overcame his better 
 judgment, and he ran at him. His impulse was 
 humane but futile, for the man was ascending with 
 marvelous rapidity, and by the time he had reached 
 the foot of the ladder, was beyond his reach. 
 
 There was nothing left now but to use his gun or to 
 follow. One look at the terrific ascent, however, left 
 him no choice. 
 
 " Go on, and I'll drop you, Julian Marbolt ! " he 
 shouted. " I've five chambers loaded in each gun." 
 
 For response, the blind man increased his exertions. 
 On he went, up, up, till it made the man below dizzy 
 to watch him. Tresler raised his gun and fired wide,
 
 THE PURSUIT OF RED MASK 387 
 
 letting the bullet strike the rock close to the man's 
 right hand to convince him of his intentions. He saw 
 the limestone splinter as the bullet hit it, while the 
 clutching, groping hand slid higher for a fresh hold ; 
 but it had no other effect. 
 
 He was at a loss. If the man reached the top, he 
 knew that somewhere over the brink lay a road to safety. 
 And he was nearing it ; nearing it foot by foot with his 
 crawling, clinging clutch upon the face of rock. He 
 shuddered as he watched, fascinated even against him- 
 self. Deprived of sight, the man's whole body seemed 
 alert with an instinct that served him in its stead. His 
 movements were like those of some cuttlefish, reaching 
 out blindly with its long feelers and drawing itself up 
 by the power of its tentacles. 
 
 He shouted a last warning. " Your last chance ! " 
 he cried ; and now his aim was true, and his purpose 
 inflexible. 
 
 The only answer was a hurried movement on the 
 part of the climbing man. 
 
 Tresler's finger was on the trigger, while his eyes 
 were fixed on his mark. But the hammer did not fall ; 
 the final compression of the hand was stayed, while 
 horror leapt into the eyes so keenly looking over the 
 sight. Something had happened up there on the face 
 of the cliff. The man had slipped ! One foot shot out 
 helplessly, as the frantic climber struggled for those 
 last few steps before the shot came. He wildly sought 
 to recover himself, but the fatal jolt carried the weight 
 of his body with it, and wrenched the other foot from 
 its hold. For the fraction of a second the man below
 
 388 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 became aware of the clinging hands, as they desperately 
 held to the rock, and then he dropped his gun and 
 clapped his hands over his ears as a piercing shriek 
 rang out. He could not witness any more. He only 
 heard, in spite of his stopped ears, the lumping of a soft 
 body falling ; he saw, though his eyes were closed al- 
 most on the instant, a huddled figure pitch dully upon 
 the edge of the plateau and disappear below. It all 
 passed in a flash. 
 
 Then silence reigned. And when he opened his 
 eyes there was no horrible sight, nothing seemed to 
 have been disturbed. It had gone ; no trace was left, 
 not a tatter of cloth, not a spot of blood, nothing. 
 
 He knew. His imaginary vision of the old-time 
 trapper had been enacted before his very eyes. All 
 that remained of Julian Marbolt was lying down 
 there. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Fyles and Tresler were standing in the valley below. 
 They were gazing on the mangled remains of the 
 rancher. Fyles had removed the piece of red blanket 
 from the dead man's face, and held it up for inspection. 
 
 " Um ! " he grunted. " The game's played out." 
 
 " There's more of that up there in the hut," said 
 Tresler. 
 
 " Breed blanket," commented Fyles, folding it up 
 and carefully bestowing it in his pocket. Then he 
 turned and gazed down the yawning valley. It was a 
 wonderful place, a mighty rift extending for miles into 
 the heart of the mountains. " A nice game, too," he 
 went on presently. " Ever seen this place before ? "
 
 THE PURSUIT OF RED MASK 389 
 
 " Once," Tresler replied. Then he told the officer 
 of his runaway ride. 
 
 Fyles listened with interest. At the conclusion he 
 said, " Pity you didn't tell me of this before. How- 
 ever, you missed the chief interest. Look away down 
 there in the shelter of the cliff. See about a mile 
 down. Corrals enough to shepherd ten thousand 
 head. And they are cunningly disposed." 
 
 Tresler now became aware of a scattered array of 
 corrals, stretching away out into the distance, but so 
 arranged at the foot of the towering walls of the valley 
 that they needed looking for closely. 
 
 Then he looked up at the ledge which had been the 
 scene of the disaster, and the ladder of hewn steps 
 above, and he pointed at them. 
 
 " I wonder what's on the other side ? " 
 
 "That's an easy one," replied his companion 
 promptly. " Half-breeds." 
 
 "A settlement?-" 
 
 " That's about it. You remember the Breeds cleared 
 away from their old settlement lately. We've never 
 found them. Once they take to the hills, it's like a 
 needle in a haystack. Maybe friend Anton is in hiding 
 there." 
 
 " I doubt it. ' Tough ' McCulloch didn't belong to 
 them, as I told you. He comes from over the border. 
 No ; he's getting away as fast as his horse can carry 
 him. And Arizona isn't far off his trail, if I'm any 
 judge." 
 
 Fyles's great round face was turned contemplatively 
 on his companion.
 
 390 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 " Well, that's for the future, anyhow," he observed, 
 and moved to a bush some yards away. " Let's take 
 it easy. Money, one of my deputies, has gone in for a 
 wagon. I don't expect him for a couple of hours or 
 so. We must keep it company," he added, nodding 
 his head in the direction of the dead man. 
 
 They sat down and silently lit their pipes. Fyles was 
 the first to speak. 
 
 " Guess I've got to thank you," he said, as though 
 that sort of thing was quite out of his province. 
 
 Tresler shook his head. " Not me," he said. 
 " Thank my poor mare." Then he added, with a bitter 
 laugh, " Why, but for the accident of his fall, I'm not 
 sure he wouldn't have escaped. I'm pretty weak- 
 kneed when it comes to dropping a man in cold blood." 
 
 The other shook his head. 
 
 " No ; he wouldn't have escaped. You underesti- 
 mate yourself. But even if you had missed I had him 
 covered with my carbine. I was watching the whole 
 thing down here. You see, Money and I came on be- 
 hind. I don't suppose we were more than a few min- 
 utes after you. That mare you were riding was a 
 dandy. I see she's done." 
 
 "Yes," Tresler said sorrowfully. "And I'm not 
 ashamed to say it's hit me hard. She did us a good 
 turn." 
 
 " And she owed it to us." 
 
 " You mean when she upset everything during the 
 fight?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, she's more than made amends. In spite of
 
 THE PURSUIT OF RED MASK 391 
 
 her temper, that mare of mine was the finest thing on 
 the ranch." 
 
 "Yours?" Fyles raised his eyebrows. 
 
 " Well Marbolt's." 
 
 But the officer shook his head. " Nor Marbolt's. 
 She belonged to me. Three years ago I turned her out 
 to graze at Whitewater with a bunch of others, as an in- 
 corrigible rogue and vagabond. The whole lot were 
 stolen and one of the guard shot. Her name was 
 ' Strike 'em.' " 
 
 "Strike 'em?" 
 
 " Yes. Ever have her come at you with both front 
 feet, and her mouth open ? " 
 
 Tresler nodded. 
 
 " That's it. ' Strike 'em.' Fine mare half blood." 
 
 " But Marbolt told Jake he bought her from a half- 
 breed outfit." 
 
 " Dare say he did." 
 
 Fyles relit his pipe for about the twentieth time, 
 which caused Tresler to hand him his pouch. 
 
 " Try tobacco," he said, with a smile. 
 
 The sheriff accepted the invitation with unruffled 
 composure. The gentle sarcasm passed quite un- 
 heeded. Probably the man was too intent on the busi- 
 ness of the moment, for he went on as though no 
 interruption had occurred. 
 
 " After seeing you on that mare I found the ranch 
 interesting. But the man's blindness fooled me right 
 along. I had no trouble in ascertaining that Jake had 
 nothing to do with things. Also I was assured that 
 none of the ' hands ' were playing the game. Anton
 
 392 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 was the man for me. But soon I discovered that he 
 was not the actual leader. So far, good. There was 
 only Marbolt left ; but he was blind. Last night, when 
 you came for me, and told me what had happened 
 at the ranch, and about the lighted lamp, I tumbled. 
 But even so I still failed to understand all. The man 
 was blind in daylight, and could see in darkness or 
 half-light. Now, what the deuce sort of blind disease 
 is that ? And he seems to have kept the secret, acting 
 the blind man at all times. It was clever devilish 
 clever." 
 
 Tresler nodded. " Yes ; he fooled us all, even his 
 daughter." 
 
 The other shot a quick glance from out of the corners 
 of his eyes. 
 
 " I suppose so," he observed, and waited. 
 
 They smoked in silence. 
 
 " What are you going to do next ? " asked Tresler, 
 as the other showed no disposition to speak. 
 
 The man shrugged. " Take possession of the ranch. 
 Just keep the hands to run it. The lady had better go 
 into Forks if she has any friends there. You might 
 see to that. I understand that you are gossip, you 
 know." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " There'll be inquiries and formalities. The property 
 I don't know about. That will be settled by the gov- 
 ernment." 
 
 Tresler became thoughtful. Suddenly he turned to 
 his companion. 
 
 " Sheriff," he said earnestly, " I hope you'll spare
 
 THE PURSUIT OF RED MASK 393 
 
 Miss Marbolt all you can. She has lived a terribly 
 unhappy life with him. I can assure you she has 
 known nothing of this nothing of the strange blind- 
 ness. I would swear it with my last breath." 
 
 " I don't doubt you, my boy," the other said heart- 
 ily. " We owe you too much to doubt you. She shall 
 not be bothered more than can be helped. But she 
 had some knowledge of that blindness, or she would 
 not have acted as she did with that lamp. I tell you 
 candidly she will have to make a statement." 
 
 " Have no doubt ; she will explain." 
 
 " Sure ah ! I think I hear the wheels of the 
 wagon." Fyles looked round. Then he settled him- 
 self down again. "Jake," he went on, "was smart- 
 est of us all. I can't believe he was ever told of his 
 patron's curious blindness. He must have discovered 
 it. He was playing a big game. And all for a woman ! 
 Well, well." 
 
 " No doubt he thought she was worth it," said Tres- 
 ler, with some asperity. 
 
 The officer smiled at the tone. " No doubt, no 
 doubt. Still, he wasn't young. He fooled you when 
 he concurred with your suspicions of Anton that is, 
 he knew you were off the true scent, and meant keep- 
 ing you off it. I can understand, too, why you were 
 sent to Willow Bluff. You knew too much, you were 
 too inquiring. Besides, from your own showing to 
 Jake which he carried on to the blind man for his 
 own ends you wanted too much. You had to be got 
 rid of, as others have been got rid of before. Yes, it 
 was all very clever. And he never spared his own
 
 394 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 stock. Robbed himself by transferring a bunch of 
 steers to these corrals, and, later on, I suppose, letting 
 them drift back to his own pastures. I only wonder 
 why, with a ranch like his, he ran the risk." 
 
 " Perhaps it was old-time associations. He was a 
 slave-trader once, and no doubt he stocked his ranch 
 originally by raiding the Indians' cattle. Then, when 
 white people came around, and the Indians disappeared, 
 he continued his depredations on less open lines." 
 
 " Ah ! slave-trader, was he ? Who said ? " 
 
 " Miss Marbolt innocently told me he once traded in 
 the Indies in ' black ivory.' She did not understand." 
 
 " Just so ah, here is the wagon." 
 
 Fyles rose leisurely to his feet. And Money drove 
 up. 
 
 " The best of news, sheriff," the latter cried at once. 
 "Captured the lot. Some of the boys are badly 
 damaged, but we've got 'em all." 
 
 " Well, we'll get back with this," the officer replied 
 quietly. 
 
 The dead man was lifted into the wagon, and, in a 
 few minutes, the little party was on its way back to 
 the ranch.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A RETURN TO THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES 
 
 THE affairs of the ranch were taken in hand by Fyles. 
 Everything was temporarily under his control, and an 
 admirable administrator he proved. Nor could Tres- 
 ler help thinking how much better he seemed suited by 
 such pastoral surroundings than by the atmosphere of 
 his proper calling. But this appointment only lasted a 
 week. Then the authorities drafted a man to relieve 
 him for the more urgent business of the investigation 
 into the death of the rancher and his foreman, and the 
 trial of the half-breed raiders captured at Widow Dang- 
 ley's. 
 
 Diane, acting on Tresler's advice, had taken up her 
 abode with Mrs. Doc. Osier in Forks, which good, 
 comfortable, kind, gossipy old woman insisted on treat- 
 ing her as a bereaved and ailing child, who must be 
 comforted and ministered to, and incidentally dosed 
 with tonics. As a matter of fact, Diane, though greatly 
 shocked at the manner and conditions of her father's 
 death, and the discovery that he was so terrible an 
 outlaw, was suffering in no sense the bereavement of 
 the death of a parent. She was heartily glad to get 
 away from her old home, that had held so much un- 
 happiness and misery for her. Later on, when Tresler 
 sent her word that it was imperative for him to go into
 
 396 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Whitewater with Fyles, that he had been summoned 
 there as a witness, she was still more glad that she had 
 left it. Thanks to the influence and consideration of 
 Fyles, she had been spared the ordeal of the trial in 
 Whitewater. She had given her sworn testimony at 
 the preliminary inquiry on the ranch, and this had been 
 put in as evidence at the higher court. 
 
 And so it was nearly a month before Tresler was 
 free to return to Forks. And during that time he had 
 been kept very busy. What with the ranch affairs, 
 and matters of his own concerns, he had no time for 
 anything but brief and infrequent little notes of loving 
 encouragement to the waiting girl. But these mes- 
 sages tended otherwise than might have been expected. 
 The sadness that had so long been almost second na- 
 ture to the girl steadily deepened, and Mrs. Osier, ever 
 kind and watchful of her charge, noticed the depression 
 settling on her, and with motherly solicitude she had 
 no children of her own insisted on the only remedy 
 she understood physic. And the girl submitted to 
 the kindly treatment, knowing well enough that there 
 was no physic to help her complaint. She knew that, 
 in spite of his tender messages and assurances of af- 
 fection, Tresler could never be anything more in her 
 life than he was at present. Even in death her father 
 had carried out his threat. She could never marry. 
 It would be a cruel outrage on any man. She told 
 herself that no self-respecting man would ever marry a 
 girl with such a past, such parentage. 
 
 And so she waited for her lover's return to tell him. 
 Once she thought of writing it, but she knew Jack too
 
 A RETURN TO THE PHILISTINES 397 
 
 well. He would only come down to Forks post haste, 
 and that might upset his plans ; and she had no desire 
 to cause him further trouble. She would tell him her 
 decision when he had leisure to come to her. Then 
 she would wait for the government orders about the 
 ranch, and, if she were allowed to keep it, she would 
 sell the land as soon as possible and leave the country 
 forever. She felt that this course was the right one to 
 pursue ; but it was very, very hard, and no measure of 
 tonics could dispel the deepening shadows which the 
 cruelty of her lot had brought to her young face. 
 
 It was wonderful the kindness and sympathy ex- 
 tended to her in that rough settlement. There was 
 not a man or woman, especially the men, who did not 
 do all in his or her power to make her forget her troub- 
 les. 'No one ever alluded to Mosquito Bend in her 
 presence, and, instead, assumed a rough, cheerful jocu- 
 larity, which sat as awkwardly on the majority as it 
 well could. For most of them were illiterate, hard-liv- 
 ing folk, rendered desperately serious in the struggle 
 for existence. 
 
 And back to this place Tresler came one day. He 
 was a very different man now from what he had been on 
 his first visit. He looked about him as he crossed the 
 market-place. Quickly locating Doc. Osier's little 
 house, he smiled to himself as he thought of the girl 
 waiting for him there. But he kept to his course and 
 rode straight on to Carney's saloon. Here, as before, 
 he dismounted. But he needed no help or guide. He 
 straightway hooked his horse's reins over the tie-post 
 and walked into the bar.
 
 398 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 The first man to greet him was his old acquaintance 
 Slum Ranks. The little man looked up at him in a 
 speculative manner, slanting his eyes at him in a way 
 he remembered so well. There was no change in the 
 rascal's appearance. In fact, he was wearing the same 
 clothes Tresler had first seen him in. They were no 
 cleaner and no dirtier. The man seemed to have ut- 
 terly stagnated since their first meeting, just as every- 
 thing else in the saloon seemed to have stagnated. 
 There were the same men there one or two more be- 
 sides the same reeking atmosphere, the same dingy 
 hue over the whole interior. Nothing seemed changed. 
 
 Slum's greeting was characteristic. " Wai, blind- 
 hulks has passed eh ? I figgered you was comin' 
 out on top. Guess the government'll treat you han'- 
 some." 
 
 The butcher guffawed from his place at the bar. 
 Tresler saw that he was still standing with his back to 
 it ; his hands were still gripping the moulded edge, as 
 though he had never changed his position since the 
 first time he had seen him. Shaky, the carpenter, 
 looked up from the little side table at which he was 
 playing "solitaire" with a greasy pack of cards ; his 
 face still wore the puzzled look with which he had been 
 contemplating the maze of spots and pictures a mo- 
 ment before. Those others who were new to him 
 turned on him curiously as they heard Slum's greeting, 
 and Carney paused in the act of wiping a glass, an oc- 
 cupation which never failed him, however bad trade 
 might be. 
 
 Tresler felt that something was due to those who
 
 A RETURN TO THE PHILISTINES 399 
 
 could display so much interest in his return, so he 
 walked to the bar and called for drinks. Then he 
 turned to Slum. 
 
 "Well," he said, " I'm going to take up my abode 
 here for a week or two." 
 
 " I'm real glad," said Ranks, his little eyes lighting 
 up at the prospect. He remembered how profitable 
 this man had proved before. " The missis'll be glad, 
 too," he added. " I 'lows she's a far-seein' wummin. 
 We kep a best room fer such folk as you, now. A 
 bran' noo iron bed, wi' green an' red stripes, an' a wash- 
 bowl goin' with it. Say, it's a real dandy layout, an' 
 on'y three dollars a week wi'out board. Guess I'll git 
 right over an' tell her to fix eh ?" 
 
 Tresler protested and laid a detaining hand on his 
 arm. " Don't bother. Carney, here, is going to fix 
 me up ; aren't you, Carney?" 
 
 "That's how," replied the saloon-keeper, with a tri- 
 umphant grin at the plausible Slum. 
 
 "Wai, now. You plumb rattle me. To think o' 
 your goin' over from a pal like that," said Slum, pro- 
 testingly, while the butcher guffawed and stretched his 
 arms further along the bar. 
 
 " Guess he's had some," observed the carpenter, 
 shuffling his cards anew. " I 'lows that bed has bugs, 
 an' the wash-bowl's mostly used dippin' out swill," he 
 finished up scornfully. 
 
 Ranks eyed the sad-faced man with an unfriendly 
 look. " Guess I never knew you but what you was 
 insultin', Shaky," he observed, in a tone of pity. 
 " Some folks is like that. Guess you git figgerin' them
 
 400 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 cards too close. You never was bustin' wi' brains. 
 Say, Carney," turning back to the bar complainingly, 
 " wher's them durned brandy ' cocks ' Mr. Tresler 
 ordered a whiles back ? You're gettin' most like a 
 fun'ral on an up-hill trail. Slow eh ? Guess if we're 
 to be pizened I sez do it quick." 
 
 " Comin' along, Slum," replied Carney, winking 
 knowingly to let Tresler understand that the man's im- 
 patience was only a covering for his discomfiture at 
 Shaky's hands. "I've done my best to pizen you this 
 ten year. Guess Shaky's still pinin' fer the job o' 
 nailin' a few planks around you. Here you are. More 
 comin'." 
 
 " Who's needin' me ? " asked Shaky, looking up from 
 his cards. "Slum Ranks?" he questioned, pausing. 
 " Guess I've got a plank or two fit fer him. Red pine. 
 Burns better." 
 
 He lit his pipe with great display and sucked at it 
 noisily. Slum lowered his cocktail and turned a dis- 
 gusted look on him. 
 
 " Say, go easy wi' that lucifer. Don't breathe on it, 
 or ther' won't be no need fer red pine fer you." 
 
 "Gentlemen, gentlemen," cried Carney, jocosely, 
 " the present kep to the present. Because Slum, here, 
 runs a well, a boardin' establishment, ther' ain't no 
 need to discuss his future so coarsely." 
 
 " Not so much slack, Carney," said Slum, a little 
 angrily. "Guess my boardin' emporium's rilin' you 
 some. You're feelin' a hur'cane ; that's wot you're 
 feelin', I guess. Makes you sick to see folks gittin' 
 value fer their dollars, don't it?"
 
 A RETURN TO THE PHILISTINES 401 
 
 " Good fer you, good fer you," cried the butcher, and 
 subsided with a loud guffaw. 
 
 The unusual burst of speech from this man caused 
 general surprise. The entire company paused to 
 stare at the shining, grinning face. 
 
 " Sail in, Slum," said a lean man Tresler had heard 
 addressed as " Sawny " Martin. " I allus sez as you've 
 got a dead eye fer the tack-head ev'ry time. But go 
 easy, or the boss'll bar you on the slate." 
 
 " Don't owe him nuthin'," growled Slum. 
 
 " Which ain't or'nary in this company," observed the 
 smiling Carney ; he loved to get Slum angry. " Say, 
 Shaky," he went on, " how do Slum fix you in his 
 hotel? You don't seem bustin' wi' vittals." 
 
 " Might do wuss," responded the carpenter, sorrow- 
 fully. " But, y' see, I stan' in wi' Doc. Osier, an' he 
 physics me reg'lar." 
 
 Everybody laughed with the butcher this time. 
 
 " Say, you gorl-durned ' fun'ral boards,' you're gittin' 
 kind o' fresh, but I'd bet a greenback to a last year's 
 corn-shuck you don't quit ther' an' come grazin' around 
 Carney's pastures, long as my missis does thecookin'." 
 
 "I Mows your missis ken cook," said Shaky, with en- 
 thusiasm. " The feller as sez she can't lies. But wi' 
 her, my respec' fer your hog-pen ends. I guess this 
 argyment is closed fer va-cation. Who's fer ' draw'?" 
 
 Slum turned back to the bar. " Here, Carney," he 
 said, planking out a ten-dollar bill, " hand over chips 
 to that. We're losin' blessed hours gassin'. I'm goin' 
 fer a hand at ' draw.' An' say, give us a new deck o' 
 cards. Guess them o' Shaky's needs curry-combin'
 
 402 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 some. Mr. Tresler," he went on, turning to his old 
 boarder, " mebbe I owe you some. Have you a no- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " No thanks, Slum," replied Tresler, decidedly. 
 " I'm getting an old hand now." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 And the little man moved off with a thoughtful smile 
 on his rutted, mahogany features. 
 
 Tresler watched these men take their seats for the 
 game. Their recent bickering was wholly forgotten in 
 the ruling passion for " draw." And what a game it 
 was ! Each man, ignorant, uncultured in all else, was 
 a past master at poker an artist. The baser instincts 
 of the game appealed to the uppermost sides of their 
 natures. They were there to best each other by any 
 manner of trickery. Each man understood that his 
 neighbor was doing all he knew, nor did he resent it. 
 Only would he resent it should the delinquent be found 
 out. Then there would be real trouble. But they were 
 all such old-time sinners. They had been doing that 
 sort of thing for years, and would continue to do it for 
 years more. It was the method of their lives, and Tres- 
 ler had no opinion on the right or wrong of it. He had 
 no right to judge them, and, besides, he had every sym- 
 pathy for them as struggling units in Life's great battle. 
 
 But presently he left the table, for Fyles came in, and 
 he had been waiting for him. But the sheriff came by 
 himself, and Tresler asked him the reason. 
 
 " Well, you see, Nelson is outside, Tresler," the burly 
 man said, with something like a smile. " He wouldn't 
 come in. Shall we go out to him ? "
 
 A RETURN TO THE PHILISTINES 403 
 
 The other assented, and they passed out. Joe was 
 sitting on his buckskin pony, gazing at the saloon with 
 an infinite longing in his old eyes. 
 
 " Why are you sitting there ? " Tresler asked at once. 
 Then he regretted his question. 
 
 " Wai," Joe drawled, without the least hesitation, 
 " I'm figgerin' you oughter know by this time. Ther's 
 things born to live on liquid, an' they've mostly growed 
 tails. Guess I ain't growed that yet. Mebbe I'll git 
 down at Doc. Osier's. An' I'll git on agin right ther'," 
 he added, as an afterthought. 
 
 Joe smiled as much as his twisted face would permit, 
 but Tresler was annoyed with himself for having forced 
 such a confession from him. 
 
 " Well, I'm sorry I suggested it, Joe," he said 
 quickly ; " as you say, I ought to have known better. 
 Never mind, I want you to do me a favor." 
 
 " Name it, an' I'll do it if I bust." 
 
 The little man brightened at the thought of this man 
 asking a favor of him. 
 
 Tresler didn't respond at once. He didn't want to 
 put the matter too bluntly. He didn't want to let Joe 
 feel that he regarded him as a subordinate. 
 
 " Well, you see, I'm looking for some one of good 
 experience to give me some friendly help. You see, 
 I've bought a nice place, and well, in fact, I'm setting 
 up ranching on my own, and I want you to come and 
 help me with it. That's all." 
 
 Joe looked out over the market-place, he looked 
 away at the distant hills, his eyes turned on Doc. 
 Osier's house ; he cleared his throat and screwed his
 
 404 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 face into the most weird shape. His eyes sought the 
 door of the saloon and finally came back to Tresler. 
 He swallowed two or three times, then suddenly thrust 
 out his hand as though he were going to strike his 
 benefactor. 
 
 " Shake," he muttered hoarsely. 
 
 And Tresler gripped the proffered hand. " And per- 
 haps you'll have that flower-garden, Joe," he said, 
 " without the weeds." 
 
 " Mr. Tresler, sir, shake agin." 
 
 " Never mind the ' mister ' or the ' sir,' " said Tresler. 
 " We are old friends. Now, Fyles," he went on, turn- 
 ing to the officer, who had been looking on an inter- 
 ested spectator, " have you any news for Miss Mar- 
 bolt?" 
 
 " Yes, the decision's made. I've got the document 
 here in my pocket." 
 
 " Good. But don't tell it me. Give me an hour's 
 start of you. I'm going to see the lady myself. And, 
 Joe," Tresler looked up into the old man's beaming 
 face. " Will you come with the sheriff when he inter- 
 views er our client ? " 
 
 " All right, Mis " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Tresler, si " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "All right, Tresler," said the old man, in a strangely 
 husky voice. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 Diane was confronting her lover for the last inter- 
 view. Mrs. Osier had discreetly left them, and now
 
 A RETURN TO THE PHILISTINES 405 
 
 they were sitting in the diminutive parlor, the man, at 
 the girl's expressed wish, sitting as far from her as the 
 size of the room would permit. All his cheeriness had 
 deserted him and a decided frown marred the open 
 frankness of his face. 
 
 Diane, herself, looked a little older than when we saw 
 her last at the ranch. The dark shadows round her 
 pretty eyes were darker, and her face looked thinner 
 and paler, while her eyes shone with a feverish bright- 
 ness. 
 
 " You overruled my decision once, Jack," she was 
 saying in a low tone that she had difficulty in keeping 
 steady, " but this time it must not be." 
 
 "Well, look here, Danny, I can give you just an 
 hour in which to ease your mind, but I tell you can- 
 didly, after that you'll have to say ' yes,' in spite of all 
 your objections. So fire away. Here's the watch. 
 I'm going to time you." 
 
 Tresler spoke lightly and finished up with a laugh. 
 But he didn't feel like laughter. This objection came 
 as a shock to him. He had pictured such a different 
 meeting. 
 
 Diane shook her head. " I can say all I have to say 
 in less time than that, Jack. Promise me that you will 
 not misunderstand me. You know my heart, dear. It 
 is all yours, but, but Jack, I did not tell all I knew at 
 the inquest." 
 
 She paused, but Tresler made no offer to help her 
 out. " I knew father could see at night. He was what 
 Mr. Osier calls a Nyc Nyctalops. That's it. It's 
 some strange disease and not real blindness at all, as
 
 406 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 far as I can make out. He simply couldn't see in day- 
 light because there was something about his eyes which 
 let in so much light, that all sense of vision was para- 
 lyzed, and at such time he suffered intense pain. But 
 when evening came, in the moonlight, or late twilight ; 
 in fact at any time when there was no glare of light, 
 just a soft radiance, he could not only see but was pos- 
 sessed of peculiarly acute vision. How he kept his 
 secret for so many years I don't know. I understand 
 why he did, but, even now, I cannot understand what 
 drove him to commit the dreadful deeds he did, so 
 wealthy and all as he was." 
 
 Tresler thought he could guess pretty closely. But 
 he waited for her to go on. 
 
 " Jack, I discovered that he could see at night when 
 you were ill, just before you recovered consciousness," 
 she went on, in a solemn, awestruck tone. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " Yes, while you were lying there insensible you 
 narrowly escaped being murdered." 
 
 Again she paused, and shuddered visibly. 
 
 " I was afraid of something. His conduct when you 
 were brought in warned me. He seemed to resent 
 your existence ; he certainly resented your being in the 
 house, but most of all my attendance on you. I was 
 very watchful, but the strain was too much, and, one 
 night, feeling that the danger of sleep for me was very 
 real, I barricaded the stairs. I did my utmost to keep 
 awake, but foolishly sat down on my own bed and fell 
 asleep. Then I awoke with a start ; I can't say what 
 woke me. Anyway, realizing I had slept, I became
 
 A RETURN TO THE PHILISTINES 407 
 
 alarmed for you. I picked up the light and went out 
 into the hall, where I found my barricade removed " 
 
 " Yes, and your father at my bedside, with his hands 
 at my throat." 
 
 " Loosening the bandage." 
 
 "To?" 
 
 "To open the wound and let you bleed to death." 
 
 " I see. Yes, I remember. I dreamt the whole scene, 
 except the bandage business. But you " 
 
 " I had the lighted lamp, and the moment its light 
 flashed on him he was as as blind as a bat. His 
 hands moved about your bandage fumbling and un- 
 certain. Yes, he was blind enough then. I believe 
 he would have attacked me, only I threatened him 
 with the lamp, and with calling for help." 
 
 " Brave little woman yes, I remember your words. 
 They were in my dream. And that's how you knew 
 what to do later on when Jake and he " 
 
 The girl nodded. 
 
 "So Fyles was right," Tresler went on musingly. 
 "You did know.'' 
 
 "Was I wrong, Jack, in not telling them at the in- 
 quest? You see he is dead, and " 
 
 " On the contrary, you were right. It would have 
 done no manner of good. You might have told me, 
 though." 
 
 "Well, I didn't know what to do," the girl said, a 
 little helplessly. " You see I never thought of cattle- 
 stealing. It never entered my head that he was, or 
 could be, Red Mask. I only looked upon it as a vil- 
 lainous attempt on your life, which would not be likely
 
 408 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 to occur again, and which it would serve no purpose 
 to tell you of. Besides, the horror " 
 
 " Yes, I see. Perhaps you were right. It would 
 have put us on the right track though, as, later on, the 
 fight with Jake and your action with regard to it did. 
 Never mind ; that's over. Julian Marbolt was an utter 
 villain from the start. You may as well know that his 
 trading in ' black ivory ' was another name for slave- 
 trading. His blindness had nothing to do with driving 
 him to crime, nor had your mother's doings. He was 
 a rogue before. His blindness only enabled him to 
 play a deeper game, which was a matter likely to ap- 
 peal to his nature. However, nothing can be altered 
 by discussing him. I have bought a ranch adjoining 
 Mosquito Bend, and secured Joe's assistance as fore- 
 man. I have given out contracts for rebuilding the 
 house ; also, I've sent orders east for furnishings. I 
 am going to buy my stock at the fall round-up. All 
 I want now is for you to say when you will marry me, 
 sweetheart." 
 
 " But, Jack, you don't seem to understand. I can't 
 marry you. Father was a a murderer." 
 
 " I don't care what he was, Danny. It doesn't make 
 the least difference to me. I'm not marrying your 
 father." 
 
 Diane was distressed. The lightness of his treat- 
 ment of the subject bothered her. But she was in 
 deadly earnest. 
 
 " But, Jack, think of the disgrace ! Your people ! 
 All the folk about here ! " 
 
 " Now don't let us be silly, Danny," Tresler said,
 
 A RETURN TO THE PHILISTINES 409 
 
 coming over to the girl's side and taking possession of 
 her forcibly. In spite of protest his arm slipped round 
 her waist, and he drew her to him and kissed her 
 tenderly. " My people are not marrying you. Nor 
 are the folk who, by the way, can't, and have no 
 desire to throw stones doing so either. Now, you 
 saved my life twice ; once through your gentle nursing, 
 once through your bravery. And I tell you no one 
 has the right to save life and then proceed to do all in 
 their power to make that life a burden to the miserable 
 wretch on whom they've lavished such care. That 
 would be a vile and unwomanly action, and quite for- 
 eign to your gentle heart. Sweetheart," he went on, 
 kissing her again, " you must complete the good work. 
 I am anything but well yet. In fact I am so weak that 
 any shock might cause a relapse. In short, there is 
 only one thing, as far as I can see, to save me from a 
 horrid death consumption or colic, or some fell dis- 
 ease and that's marriage. I know you must be bored 
 
 to death by No," as the girl tried to stop him, 
 
 " don't interrupt, you must know all the fearsome truth 
 a sort of chronic invalid, but if you don't marry me, 
 well, I'll get Joe to bury me somewhere at the cross- 
 roads. Look at all the money I've spent in getting 
 our home together. Think of it, Danny ; our home ! 
 And old Joe to help us. And " 
 
 " Oh, stop, stop, or you'll make me 
 
 " Marry me. Just exactly what I intend, darling. 
 Now, seriously, let's forget the old past ; Jake, your 
 father, Anton, all of them except Arizona." 
 
 Diane nestled closer to him in spite of her protests.
 
 410 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 There was something so strong, reliant, masterful about 
 her Jack that made him irresistible to her. She knew 
 she was wrong in allowing herself to think like this at 
 such a moment, but, after all, she was a weak, loving 
 woman, fighting in what she conceived to be the cause 
 of right. If she found that her heart, so long starved 
 of affection, overcame her sense of duty, was there 
 much blame? Tresler felt the gentle clinging move- 
 ment, and pressed her for her answer at once. 
 
 " Time's nearly up, dearest. See through that win- 
 dow, Fyles and Joe are coming over to you. Is it 
 marry, or am I to go to the Arctic regions fishing for 
 polar bears without an overcoat? I don't care which it is 
 I mean no. Yes, quick ! They're on the verandah." 
 
 The girl nodded. " Yes," she said, so low that his 
 face came in contact with hers in his effort to hear, and 
 stayed there until the burly sheriff knocked at the door. 
 
 He entered, followed by Joe. Tresler and Diane were 
 standing side by side. He was still holding her hand. 
 
 " Fyles," Tresler said at once, beaming upon both 
 men, "let me present you to the future Mrs. John 
 Tresler. Joe," he added, turning on the little man 
 who was twisting his slouch hat up unmercifully in his 
 nervous hand, and grinning ferociously, "are the corrals 
 prepared, and have you got my branding-irons ready? 
 You see I've rounded her up." 
 
 The little man grinned worse than ever, and ap- 
 peared to be in imminent peril of extending his torn 
 mouth into the region of his ear. Diane listened to 
 the horrible suggestion without misgiving, merely re- 
 marking in true wifely fashion
 
 A RETURN TO THE PHILISTINES 411 
 
 " Don't be absurd, Jack ! " 
 
 At which Fyles smiled with appreciation. Then he 
 coughed to bring them to seriousness, and produced 
 an official envelope from his tunic pocket. 
 
 "I've just brought you the verdict on your property, 
 Miss Marbolt," he said deliberately. " Shall I read it 
 to you, or would you ? " 
 
 " Never mind the reading," said Diane impulsively. 
 " Tell me the contents." 
 
 " Well, I confess it's better so. The legal terms are 
 confusing," said the officer emphatically. "You can 
 read them later. I don't guess the government could 
 have acted better by you than they've done. The 
 property," he was careful to avoid the rancher's name 
 " the property is to remain yours, with this proviso. 
 An inquiry has been arranged for, into all claims for 
 property lost during the last ten years in the district. 
 And all approved claims will have to be settled out of the 
 estate. Five years is the time allowed for all such claims 
 to be put forward. After that everything reverts to you." 
 
 Diane turned to her lover the moment the officer had 
 finished speaking. 
 
 " And, Jack, when that time comes we'll sell it all and 
 give the money to charity, and just live on in our own 
 little home." 
 
 " Done !" exclaimed Tresler. And seizing her in his 
 arms he picked her up and gave her a resounding kiss. 
 The action caused the sheriff to cough loudly, while Joe 
 flung his hat fiercely to the ground, and in a voice of 
 wildest excitement, shouted 
 
 " Gee, but I want to holler f "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ARIZONA 
 
 WHEN winter comes in Canada it shuts down with 
 no uncertainty. The snow settles and remains. The 
 sun shines, but without warmth. The still air bites 
 through any clothing but furs, moccasins, or felt-lined 
 overshoes. The farmers hug the shelter of their houses, 
 and only that work which is known as " doing the 
 chores" receives attention when once winter sets its 
 seal upon the land. Little traffic passes over the drifted 
 trails now ; a horseman upon a social visit bent, a bob- 
 sleigh loaded with cord-wood for the wood-stoves at 
 home, a cutter, drawn by a rattling team of young 
 bronchos, as rancher and wife seek the alluring stores 
 of some distant city to make their household purchases, 
 even an occasional " jumper," one of those low-built, 
 red-painted, one-horsed sleighs, which resemble noth- 
 ing so much as a packing-case with a pair of shafts at- 
 tached. But these are all ; for work has practically 
 ceased in the agricultural regions, and a period of hiber- 
 nation has begun, when, like the dormouse, rancher and 
 farmer alike pass their slack time in repose from the 
 arduous labors of the open season. 
 
 Even the most brilliant sunlight cannot cheer the 
 mournful outlook to any great extent. Out on the Ed-
 
 ARIZONA 413 
 
 monton trail, hundreds of miles to the north of Forks, 
 at the crossroads where the Battule trail branches to 
 the east, the cheerless prospect is intensified by the 
 skeleton arms of a snow-crowned bluff. The shelter of 
 trees is no longer a shelter against the wind, which now 
 comes shrieking through the leafless branches and 
 drives out any benighted creature foolish enough to 
 seek its protection against the winter storm. But in 
 winter the crossroads are usually deserted. 
 
 Contrary to custom, however, it is evident that a 
 horseman has recently visited the bluff. For there are 
 hoof-prints on one of the crossing trails ; on the trail 
 which comes from somewhere in the south. The marks 
 are sharp indentations and look fresh, but they termi- 
 nate as the crossing is reached. Here they have turned 
 off into the bush and are lost to view. The matter is 
 somewhat incomprehensible. 
 
 But there is something still more incomprehensible 
 about the desolate place. Just beyond where the hoof- 
 prints turn off a lightning-stricken pine tree stands 
 alone, bare and blackened by the fiery ordeal through 
 which it has passed, and, resting in the fork of one of 
 its shriveled branches, about the height of a horseman's 
 head, is a board a black board, black as is the tree- 
 trunk which supports it. 
 
 As we draw nearer to ascertain the object of so strange 
 a phenomenon on a prairie trail we learn that some one 
 has inscribed a message to those who may arrive at the 
 crossing. A message of strange meaning and obscure. 
 The characters are laboriously executed in chalk, and 
 have been emphasized with repeated markings and an
 
 414 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 attempt at block capitals. Also there is a hand sketched 
 roughly upon the board, with an outstretched finger 
 pointing vaguely somewhere in the direction of the trail 
 which leads to Battule. 
 
 " This is the One-Way Trail" 
 
 We read this and glance at the pointing finger which 
 is so shaky of outline, and our first inclination is to 
 laugh. But somehow before the laugh has well ma- 
 tured it dies away, leaving behind it a look of wonder not 
 unmixed with awe. For there is something sinister in 
 the message, which, though we do not understand it, 
 still has power to move us. If we are prairie folk we 
 shall have no inclination to laugh at all. Rather shall 
 we frown and edge away from the ominous black board ; 
 and it is more than probable we shall avoid the trail 
 indicated, and prefer to make a detour if our destina- 
 tion should chance to be Battule. 
 
 Why is that board there ? Who has set it up ? And 
 " the one-way trail " is the trail over which there is no 
 returning. The message is no jest. 
 
 The coldly gleaming sun has set, and at last a horse 
 and rider enter the bluff. They turn off into the bush 
 and are seen no more. The long night passes. Dawn 
 comes again, and, as the daylight broadens, the horse- 
 man reappears and rides off down the trail. At even- 
 ing he returns again ; disappears into the bush again ; 
 and, with daylight, rides off again. Day after day this 
 curious coming and going continues without any ap- 
 parent object, unless it be that the man has no place 
 but the skeleton bush in which to rest. And with each
 
 ARIZONA 415 
 
 coming and going the man rides slower, he lounges 
 wearily in his saddle, and before the end of a week 
 looks a mere spectre of the man who first rode into the 
 bluff. Starvation is in the emaciated features, the 
 brilliant feverish eyes. His horse, too, appears little 
 better. 
 
 At length one evening he enters the bush, and the 
 following dawn fails to witness his departure. All that 
 day there is the faint sound of a horse moving about 
 amongst the trees with that limping gait which denotes 
 the application of a knee-halter. But the man makes 
 no sound. 
 
 As night comes on a solitary figure may be seen 
 seated on a horse at a point which is sheltered from the 
 trail by a screen of bushes. The man sits still, silent, 
 but drooping. His tall gaunt frame is bent almost 
 double over the horn of his saddle in his weakness. 
 The horse's head is hanging heavy with sleep, but the 
 man's great, wild eyes are wide open and alight with 
 burning eagerness. The horse sleeps and frequently 
 has to be awakened by its rider as it stumbles beneath 
 its burden ; but the man is as wakeful as the night-owl 
 seeking its prey, and the grim set of his wasted face 
 implies a purpose no less ruthless. 
 
 At dawn the position is unchanged. The man still 
 droops over his saddle-horn, a little lower perhaps, but 
 his general attitude is the same. As the daylight shoots 
 athwart the horizon and lightens the darkness of the 
 bush to a gray twilight the horse raises his head 
 and pricks up his ears. The man's eyes glance swiftly 
 toward the south and his alertness is intensified.
 
 416 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 Now the soft rustle of flurrying snow becomes audi- 
 ble, and the muffled pounding of a horse's hoofs can be 
 heard upon the trail. The look that leaps into the 
 waiting man's eyes tells plainly that this is what he has 
 so patiently awaited, that here, at last, is the key to his 
 lonely vigil. He draws his horse back further into the 
 bushes and his hand moves swiftly to one of the holsters 
 upon his hips. His thin, drawn features are sternly set, 
 and the sunken eyes are lit with a deep, hard light. 
 
 Daylight broadens and reveals the barren surround- 
 ings ; the sound draws nearer. The silent horseman 
 grips his gun and lays it across his lap with his forefin- 
 ger ready upon the trigger. His quick ears tell him that 
 the traveler has entered the bush and that he is walk- 
 ing his horse. The time seems endless, while the horse- 
 man waits, but his patience is not exhausted by any 
 means. For more than a week, subsisting on the 
 barest rations which an empty pocket has driven him 
 to beg in that bleak country, he has looked for this 
 meeting. 
 
 Now, through the bushes, he sees the traveler as his 
 horse ambles down the trail toward him. It is a slight 
 fur-clad figure much like his own, but, to judge by the 
 grim smile that passes across his gaunt features, one 
 which gives the waiting man eminent satisfaction. He 
 notes the stranger's alert movements, the quick, flashing 
 black eyes, the dark features, as he peers from side to 
 side in the bush, over the edge of the down-turned 
 storm-collar ; the legs which set so close to the saddle, 
 the clumsily mitted hands. Nor does he fail to observe 
 the uneasy looks he casts about him, and he sees that,
 
 ARIZONA 417 
 
 in spite of the solitude, the man is fearful of his sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 The stranger draws abreast of the black sign-board. 
 His sidelong glances cannot miss the irregular, chalked 
 characters. His horse comes to a dead stand opposite 
 them, and the rider's eyes become fixed upon the 
 strange message. He reads ; and while he reads his 
 lips move like one who spells out the words he sees. 
 
 "This is the One- Way Trail," he reads. And then 
 his eyes turn in the direction of the pointing finger. 
 
 He looks down the trail which leads to Battule, 
 whither the finger is pointing, and, looking, a strange 
 expression creeps over his dusky features. Instinc- 
 tively, he understands that the warning is meant for 
 him. And, in his heart, he believes that death for him 
 lies somewhere out there. And yet he does not turn 
 and flee. He simply sits looking and thinking. 
 
 Again, as if fascinated, his eyes wander back to the 
 legend upon the board and he reads and rereads the 
 message it conveys. And all the time he is a prey to 
 a curious, uncertain feeling. For his mind goes back 
 over many scenes that do him little credit. Even to his 
 callous nature there is something strangely prophetic 
 in that message, and its effect he cannot shake off. 
 And while he stares his dark features change their hue, 
 and he passes one mitted hand across his forehead. 
 
 There is a sudden crackling of breaking brushwood 
 within a few yards of him ; his horse bounds to one 
 side and it is with difficulty he retains his seat in the 
 saddle ; then he flashes a look in the direction whence 
 the noise proceeds, only to reel back as though to ward
 
 4i8 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 off a blow. He is looking into the muzzle of a 
 heavy " six " with Arizona's blazing eyes running over 
 the sight. 
 
 The silence of the bush remained unbroken as the 
 two men looked into each other's faces. The gun did 
 not belch forth its death-dealing pellet. It was simply 
 there, leveled, to enforce its owner's will. Its compel- 
 ling presence was a power not easily to be defied in a 
 country where, in those days, the surest law was carried 
 in the holster on the hip. The man recovered and sub- 
 mitted. His hands, encased in mitts, had placed him at 
 a woeful disadvantage. 
 
 Arizona saw this and lowered his gun, but his eyes 
 never lost sight of the fur-clad hands before him. He 
 straightened himself up in the saddle, refusing to dis- 
 play any of his weakness to this man. 
 
 " Guess I've waited fer you, ' Tough ' McCulloch, fer 
 nigh on a week," he said slowly, in a thin, strident 
 voice. " I've coaxed you some too, I guess. You wus 
 hidden mighty tight, but not jest tight 'nuff. I 'lows I 
 located you, an' I wa'n't goin' to lose sight o' you. 
 When you quit Skitter Bend, like the whipped cur you 
 wus, I wus right hot on your trail. An' I ain't never 
 left it. See ? Say, in all the hundreds o' miles you've 
 traveled sence you quit the creek ther' ain't bin a move 
 as you've took I ain't looked on at. I've trailed you, 
 headed you, bin alongside you, an' located wher' you 
 wus makin', an' come along an' waited on you. Ther's 
 a score 'tween you an' me as wants squarin'. I'm 
 right here fer to squar' that score." 
 
 Arizona's sombre face was unrelieved by any change
 
 ARIZONA 419 
 
 of expression while he was speaking. There was no 
 anger in his tone ; just cold, calm purpose, and some 
 contempt. And whatever feelings the half-breed may 
 have had he seemed incapable of showing them, except 
 in the sickly hue of his face. 
 
 The fascination of the message on the board still 
 seemed to attract him, for, without heeding the other's 
 words, he glanced over at the seared tree-trunk and 
 nodded at it. 
 
 " See. Dat ting. It your work. Hah ? " 
 " Yes ; an' I take it the meanin's clear to you. 
 You've struck the trail we all stan' on some time, pardner, 
 an' that trail is mostly called the ' One- Way Trail.' 
 It's a slick, broad trail, an' one as is that smooth to the 
 foot as you're like to find anywheres. It's so dead easy 
 you can't help goin' on, an' you on'y larn its cussed- 
 ness when you kind o' notion gittin' back. I 'lows as 
 one o' them glacier things on top o' yonder mountains 
 is li'ble to be easier climbin' nor turnin' back on that 
 trail. The bed o' that trail is blood, blood that's mostly 
 shed in crime, an' its surface is dusted wi' all manner o' 
 wrong doin's sech as you an' me's bin up to. Say, it 
 ain't a long trail, I'm guessin', neither. It's dead short, 
 in fac' the end comes sudden-like, an' vi'lent. But I 
 'lows the end ain't allus jest the same. Sometimes y'll 
 find a rope hangin' in the air. Sometimes ther's a knife 
 jabbin' around ; sometimes ther's a gun wi' a light pull 
 waitin' handy, same as mine. But I figger all them 
 things mean jest 'bout the same. It's death, pardner ; 
 an' it ain't easy neither. Say, you an' me's pretty 
 nigh that end. You 'special. Guess you're goin' to
 
 420 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 pass over fust. Mebbe I'll pass over when I'm ready. 
 It ain't jest ne'sary fer the likes o' us to yarn Gospel 
 wi' one another, but I'm goin' to tell you somethin' as 
 mebbe you're worritin' over jest 'bout now. It's 'bout 
 a feller's gal his wife which the same that feller never 
 did you no harm. But fust y'll put up them mitts o' 
 yours, I sees as they're gettin' oneasy, worritin' around 
 as though they'd a notion to git a grip on suthin'." 
 
 The half-breed made no attempt to obey, but stared 
 coldly into the lean face before him. 
 
 " Hands up 1 " roared Arizona, with such a dreadful 
 change of tone that the man's hands were thrust above 
 his head as though a shot had struck him. 
 
 Arizona moved over to him and removed a heavy 
 pistol from the man's coat pocket, and then, having 
 satisfied himself that he had no other weapons con- 
 cealed about him, dropped back to his original posi- 
 tion. 
 
 " Ah, I wus jest sayin', 'bout that feller's wife," he 
 went on quietly. " Say, you acted the skunk t'ward 
 that feller. An' that feller wus me. I don't say I wus 
 jest a daisy husband fer that gal, but that wa'n't your 
 consarn. Wot's troublin' wus your monkeyin' around, 
 waitin' so he's out o' the way an' then vamoosin' wi' 
 the wench an' all. Guess I'm goin' to kill you fer that 
 sure. But ther' ain't none o' the skunk to me. I'm 
 goin' to treat you as you wouldn't treat me ef I wus 
 settin' wher' you are, which I ain't. You're goin' to 
 hit the One- Way Trail. But you ken hit it like what 
 you ain't, an' that's a man." 
 
 Arizona's calm, judicial tone goaded his hearer. But
 
 ARIZONA 421 
 
 " Tough " McCulloch was not the man to shout. His 
 was a deadlier composition such as the open American 
 hated and despised, and hardly understood. He con- 
 tented himself with a cynical remark which fired the 
 other's volcanic temper so that he could scarcely hold 
 his hand. 
 
 " Me good to her," he said, with a shrug. 
 
 " You wus good to her, wus you ? You who knew 
 her man wus livin' ! You, as mebbe has ha'f a dozen 
 wives livin'. You wus good to her ! Wai, you're goin' 
 to pay now. Savee ? You're goin' to pay fer your 
 flutter wi' chips, chips as drip wi' blood your blood." 
 
 The half-breed shrugged again. He was outwardly 
 unconcerned, but inwardly he was cursing the luck that 
 he had been wearing mitts upon his hands when he 
 entered the bluff. He watched Arizona as he climbed 
 out of his saddle. He beheld the signs of weakness 
 which the other could no longer disguise, but they 
 meant nothing to him, at least, nothing that could serve 
 him. He knew he must wait the cowpuncher's pleasure ; 
 and why ? The ring of white metal which marks the 
 muzzle of a gun has the power to hold brave man and 
 coward alike. He dared not move, and he was wise 
 enough not to attempt it. 
 
 Arizona drove his horse off into the bush, and stepped 
 over to his prisoner, who still remained mounted, halt- 
 ing abreast of the man's stirrup and a few yards to one 
 side of it. His features now wore the shadow of a 
 grim smile as he paused and looked into the face which 
 displayed so much assumed unconcern. 
 
 " See this gun," he said, drawing attention to the one
 
 422 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 he held in his right hand ; " it's a forty-fi', an' I'm guess- 
 in' it's loaded in two chambers." Then he scraped the 
 snow off a small patch of the road with his foot. "That 
 gun I lay right here," he went on, stooping to deposit 
 it, but still keeping his eyes fixed upon the horseman. 
 " Then I step back, so," moving backward with long 
 regular strides, " an' I reckon I count fifteen paces. 
 Then I clear another space," he added grimly, like some 
 fiendish conjurer describing the process of his tricks, 
 " and stand ready. Now, ' Tough ' McCulloch, or 
 Anton, or wotever you notion best, skunk as you are, 
 you're goin' to die decent. You're goin' to die as a 
 gentleman in a square fought duel. You're goin' to die 
 in a slap-up way as is a sight too good fer you, but 
 don't go fer to make no mistake you're goin' to die. 
 Yes, you're goin' to get off'n that plug o* yours an' 
 stand on that patch, an' I'm goin' to count three, nice 
 an' steady, one two three ! Just so. An' then we're 
 goin' to grab up them guns an' let rip. I 'lows you'll 
 fall first 'cause I'm goin' to kill you sure. Say, you'll 
 'blige me by gittin' off'n that plug." 
 
 The half-breed made no move. His unconcern was 
 leaving him under the deliberate purpose of this man. 
 
 " Git off o' that plug ! " Arizona roared out his 
 command with all the force of his suppressed passion. 
 
 The man obeyed instantly. And it was plain now 
 that his courage was deserting him. But in propor- 
 tion his cunning rose. He made a pitiful attempt at 
 swagger as he walked up to his mark, and his fierce 
 eyes watched every movement of his opponent. And 
 Arizona's evident condition of starvation struck him
 
 ARIZONA 423 
 
 forcibly, and the realization of it suggested to his 
 scheming brain a possible means of escape. 
 
 "You mighty fine givin' chances, mister," he said, 
 between his teeth. " Maybe you sing different later. 
 Bah ! you make me laff. Say, I ready." 
 
 " Yes, git right ahead an' laff," Arizona replied im- 
 perturbably. " An' meanwhiles while you're laffin', I'll 
 trouble you to git out o' that sheep's hide. It ain't fit 
 clothin' fer you noways. Howsum, it helps to thicken 
 your hide. Take it off." 
 
 The half-breed obeyed and the two men now stood 
 motionless. Arizona was an impressive figure in that 
 world of snow. Never before had his personality been 
 so marked. It may have been the purpose that moved 
 him that raised him to something superior to the lean, 
 volcanic cowboy he had hitherto been. His old 
 slouching gait, in spite of his evident weakness, was 
 quite gone ; his shaggy head was held erect, and he 
 gazed upon his enemy with eyes which the other could 
 not face. For the time, at least, the indelible stamp of 
 his disastrous life was disguised by the fire of his eyes 
 and the set of his features. And this moral strength 
 he conveyed in every action in a manner which no 
 violence, no extent of vocabulary could have done. 
 This man before him had robbed him of the woman he 
 had loved. He should die. 
 
 His pistol was still in his hand. 
 
 " When I say ' three,' you'll jest grab for your gun 
 an' fire," he said solemnly. 
 
 He relapsed into silence, and, after a moment's 
 pause, slowly stooped to deposit his weapon. His
 
 424 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 great roving eyes never relaxed their vigilance, and all 
 the while he watched the man before him. 
 
 Lower he bent, and the pistol touched the ground. 
 He straightened up swiftly and stood ready. 
 
 " One ! " 
 
 The half-breed started as though a sharp spasm of 
 pain had convulsed his body. Then he stood as if 
 about to spring. 
 
 "Two!" 
 
 McCulloch moved again. He stooped with almost 
 incredible swiftness and seized his gun, and the next 
 moment two loud reports rang out, and he threw his 
 smoking weapon upon the ground. 
 
 Arizona had not moved, though his face had gone a 
 shade paler. He knew he was wounded. 
 
 "Three!" 
 
 The American bent and seized his gun as the other 
 made a dash for his horse. He stood up, and took 
 deliberate aim. The half-breed was in the act of 
 swinging himself into his saddle. A shot rang out, 
 and the would-be fugitive's foot fell out of the stirrup, 
 and his knees gave under him. Another shot split the 
 air, and, without so much as a groan, the man fell in a 
 heap upon the ground, while a thick red stream flowed 
 from a wound at his left temple. 
 
 Then silence reigned once more. 
 
 After a while the sound of a slouching gait disturbed 
 the grim peace of the lonely bluff. Arizona shuffled 
 slowly off the road. He reached the edge of the bush ; 
 but he went no further. For he reeled, and his hands 
 clasped his body somewhere about his chest. His eyes
 
 ARIZONA 425 
 
 were half closed, and his face looked ghastly in the 
 wintry light. By a great effort he steadied himself 
 and abruptly sat down in the snow. He was just off 
 the track and his back was against a bush. 
 
 Leaning forward he drew his knees up and clasped 
 his arms about them, and remained rocking himself 
 slowly to and fro. And, as he sat, he felt something 
 moist and warm saturating his clothes about his chest. 
 Several times he nodded and his lips moved, and his 
 eyelids fell lower and lower until he saw nothing of 
 what was about him. He knew it was over for him 
 and he was satisfied. 
 
 He remained for some time in this attitude. Once 
 he opened his eyes and looked round, but, somehow, 
 he drew no satisfaction from what he beheld. The 
 world about him seemed unsteady and strangely dark. 
 The snow was no longer white, but had turned gray, 
 and momentarily it grew darker. He thankfully re- 
 closed his eyes and continued to nurse himself. Now, 
 too, his limbs began to grow cold, and to feel useless. 
 He had difficulty in keeping his hands fast about his 
 knees, but he felt easy, and even comfortable. There 
 was something soothing to him in that warm tide 
 which he felt to be flowing from somewhere about his 
 chest. 
 
 The minutes slipped away and the man's lips con- 
 tinued their silent movement. Was he praying for the 
 soul which he knew to be passing from his body ? It 
 may have been so. It may have been that he was 
 praying for a girl and a man whom he had learned to 
 love in the old days of Mosquito Bend, and whom he
 
 426 THE NIGHT-RIDERS 
 
 was leaving behind him. This latter was more than 
 likely, for his was not a selfish nature. 
 
 Again his eyes opened, and now they were quite un- 
 seeing ; but the brain behind them was still clear, for 
 words, which were intelligible, came slowly from his 
 ashen lips. 
 
 " It's over, I guess," he muttered. " Maybe life ain't 
 wi'out gold for some. I 'lows I ain't jest struck color 
 right. Wai, I'm ready for the reckonin'." 
 
 His hands unclasped and his legs straightened them- 
 selves out. Like a weary man seeking repose he 
 turned over and lay with his face buried in the snow. 
 Nor did he move again. For Arizona had ended his 
 journey over the One- Way Trail.
 
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