The Eagle's Heart

by Hamlin Garland

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE EAGLE GUARDS THE SHEEP

  Mose did not enter upon his duties as guard with joy. It seemed likesmall business and not exactly creditable employment for a trailer andcow puncher. It was in his judgment a foolish expenditure of money; butas there was nothing better to do and his need of funds was imperative,he accepted it.

  The papers made a great deal of it, complimenting the company upon itsshrewdness, and freely predicted that no more hold-ups would take placealong that route. Mose rode out of town on the seat with the driver, aWinchester between his knees and a belt of cartridges for both rifle andrevolvers showing beneath his coat. He left the stable each morning atfour A. M. and rode to the halfway house, where he slept over night,returning the following day. From the halfway house to the Springs therewere settlers and less danger.

  He was conscious of being an object of curious inquiry. Meeting stagecoaches was equivalent to being fired at by fifty pistols. Low wordsechoed from lip to lip: "Black Mose," "bad man," "graveyard of his own,""good fellow when sober," etc. Sometimes, irritated and reckless, helived up to his sinister reputation, and when some Eastern gentleman inbrown corduroy timidly approached to say, "Fine weather," Mose turnedupon him a baleful glare under which the questioner shriveled, to thedelight of the driver, who vastly admired the new guard.

  At times he was unnecessarily savage. Well-meaning men who knew nothingabout him, except that he was a guard, were rebuffed in quite the sameway. He was indeed becoming self-conscious, as if on exhibition,somehow--and this feeling deepened as the days passed, for nothinghappened. No lurking forms showed in the shadow of the pines. No voicecalled "Halt!" It became more and more like a stage play.

  He was much disturbed by Jack's letter which was waiting for him onenight when he returned to Wagon Wheel.

  "DEAR HARRY: I went up to see Mary a few weeks ago and found she had gone to Chicago. Her father died over a year ago and she decided soon after to go to the city and go on with her music. She's in some conservatory there. I don't know which one. I tried hard to keep her on my own account but she wouldn't listen to me. Well, yes, she listened but she shook her head. She dropped King soon after your visit--whether you had anything to do with that or not I don't know--I think you did, but as you didn't write she gave you up as a bad job. She always used to talk of you and wonder where you were, and every time I called she used to sing If I Were a Voice. She never _said_ she was singing it for you, but there were tears in her eyes--and in mine, too, old man. You oughtn't to be throwing yourself away in that wild, God-forsaken country. We discussed you most of the time. Once in a while she'd see a little note in the paper about you, and cut it out and send it to me. I did the same. We heard of you at Flagstaff, Arizona. Then that row you had with the Mormons was the next we knew, but we couldn't write. She said it was pretty tough to hear of you only in some scrape, but I told her your side hadn't been heard from and that gave her a lot of comfort. The set-to you had about the Indians' right to hunt pleased us both. That was a straight case. She said it was like a knight of the olden time.

  "She was uneasy about you, and once she said, 'I wish I could reach him. That rough life terrifies me. He's in constant danger.' I think she was afraid you'd take to drinking, and I own up, old man, that worries _me_. If you only had somebody to look after you--somebody to work for--like I have. I'm going to be married in September. You know her--only she was a little girl when you lived here. Her name is Lily Blanchard.

  "I wish I could help you about Mary. I'm going to write to one or two parties who may know her address. If she's in Chicago you could visit her without any trouble. They wouldn't get on to you there at all. If you go, be sure and come this way. Your father went to Denver from here--have you heard from him?"

  There was deep commotion in the trailer's brain that night. The hope hehad was too sacredly sweet to put into words--the hope that she stillthought of him and longed for him. If Jack were right, then she hadwaited and watched for him through all those years of wandering, whilehe, bitter and unrelenting, and believing that she was King's wife, hadrefused to listen for her voice on Sunday evenings. If she had kept herpromise, then on the trail, in canons dark and deathly still, on themoonlit sand of the Painted Desert, on the high divides of the NeedleRange, her thought had been winged toward him in song--and he had notlistened.

  His thought turned now, for the first time, toward the great city, whichwas to him a savage jungle of unknown things, a web of wire, a maze ofstreets, a swirling flood of human beings, of interest now merely andsolely because Mary had gone to live therein. "I'm due to make anothertrip East," he said to himself with a grim straightening of the lips.

  It was mighty serious business. To take Kintuck and hit the trail forthe Kalispels over a thousand miles of mountain and plain, was simple,but to thrust himself amid the mad rush of a great city made his boldheart quail. Money was a minor consideration in the hills, but in thecity it was a matter of life and death. Money he must now have, and ashe could not borrow or steal it, it must be earned. In a month his wageswould amount to one hundred dollars, but that was too slow. He saw noother way, however, so set his teeth and prepared to go on with the"fool business" of guarding the treasure wagon of the Express Company.

  His mind reverted often to the cowboy tournament which was about to comeoff, after hanging fire for a month, during which Grassi wrestled withthe problem of how to hold a bullfight in opposition to the laws of theState. "If I could whirl in and catch one of those purses," thoughtMose, "I could leave at the end of August. If I don't I must hang ontill the first of October."

  He determined to enter for the roping contest and for the cowboy raceand the revolver practice. Marshal Haney was delighted. "I'll attend tothe business, but the entrance fees will be about twenty dollars."

  This staggered Mose. It meant an expenditure of nearly one fourth hismonth's pay in entrance fees, not to speak of the expense of keepingKintuck, for the old horse had to go into training and be grain-fed aswell. However, he was too confident of winning to hesitate. He drew onhis wages, and took a day off to fetch Kintuck, whom he found fat andhearty and very dirty.

  The boys at the Reynolds ranch were willing to bet on Mose, and everysoul determined to be there. Cora said quietly: "I know you'll win."

  "Well, I don't expect to sweep the board, but I'll get a lunch while therest are getting a full meal," he replied, and returned to his duties.

  The weather did not change for the tournament. Each morning the sunarose flashing with white, undimmed fire. At ten o'clock great dazzlingwhite clouds developed from hidden places behind huge peaks, and as theyexpanded each let fall a veil of shimmering white storms that were hailon the heights and sleet on the paths in the valleys. These cloudspassed swiftly, the sun came out, the dandelions shone vividly throughtheir coverlet of snow, the eaves dripped, the air was like March, andthe sunsets like November.

  Naturally, Sunday was the day fixed upon for the tournament, and earlyon that day miners in clean check shirts and bright new blue overallsbegan to stream away up the road which led to the race track, some twomiles away, on the only level ground for a hundred miles. Swift horseshitched to light open buggies whirled along, loaded down with men.Horsemen galloped down the slopes in squadrons--and suchhorsemen!--cowboys from "Lost Park" and "the Animas." Prospectors likeCasey and Kelly who were quite as much at home on a horse as with a pickin a ditch, and men like Marshal Haney and Grassi, who were all-roundplainsmen, and by that same token born horsemen. Haney and Kelly rodewith Reynolds and Mose, while Cora and Mrs. Reynolds followed in a rustybuggy drawn by a fleabitten gray cow pony, sedate with age.

  Kintuck was as alert as a four-year-old. His rest had filled him tobursting with ambition to do and to serve. His muscles played under hisshining skin like those of a trained athlete. Obedient to the lightesttouch or word of his master, with ears in restle
ss motion, he curvettedlike a racer under the wire.

  "Wouldn't know that horse was twelve years old, would you, gentlemen?"said Reynolds. "Well, so he is, and he has covered fifteen thousandmiles o' trail."

  Mose was at his best. With vivid tie flowing from the collar of his blueshirt, with a new hat properly crushed in on the crown in four places,with shining revolver at his hip, and his rope coiled at his right knee,he sat his splendid horse, haughty and impassive of countenance,responding to the greetings of the crowd only with a slight nod or awave of the hand.

  It seemed to him that the population of the whole State--at least itsmen--was assembled within the big stockade. There were a few women--justenough to add decorum to the crowd. They were for the most part thewives or sisters or sweethearts of those who were to contest for prizes,but as Mose rode around the course he passed "the princess" sitting inher shining barouche and waving a handkerchief. He pretended not to seeher, though it gave him pleasure to think that the mostbrilliantly-dressed woman on the grounds took such interest in him.Another man would have ridden up to her carriage, but Mose kept onsteadily to the judge's stand, where he found a group of cowboysdiscussing the programme with Haney, the marshal of the day.

  Mose already knew his dangerous rival--a powerful and handsome fellowcalled Denver Dan, whose face was not unlike his own. His nose wasstraight and strong, his chin finely modeled, and his head graceful, buthe was heavier, and a persistent flush on his nose and in his eyelidsbetrayed the effects of liquor. His hands were small and graceful and hewore his hat with a certain attractive insolence, but his mouth wascruel and his eyes menacing. When in liquor he was known to beferocious. He was mounted on a superbly pointed grade broncho, and allhis hangings were of costly Mexican workmanship and betrayed use.

  "The first thing is a 'packing contest,'" read Haney.

  "Oh, to h----l with that, I'm no packer," growled Dan.

  "I try that," said Mose; "I let nothing get away to-day."

  "Entrance fee one dollar."

  "Here you are." Mose tossed a dollar.

  "Then 'roping and holding contest.'"

  "Now you're talking my business," exclaimed Dan.

  "There are others," said Mose.

  Dan turned a contemptuous look on the speaker--but changed hisexpression as he met Mose's eyes.

  "Howdy, Mose?"

  "So's to sit a horse," Mose replied in a tone which cut. He was not usedto being patronized by men of Dan's set.

  The crowd perceived the growing rivalry between the two men and winkedjoyously at each other.

  At last all was arranged. The spectators were assembled on the rudeseats. The wind, sweet, clear, and cool, came over the smooth grassyslopes to the west, while to the east, gorgeous as sunlit marble, rosethe great snowy peaks with huge cumulus clouds--apparently standing onedge--peeping over their shoulders from behind. Mose observed them andmentally calculated that it would not shower till three in theafternoon.

  In the track before the judge's stand six piles of "truck," each pileprecisely like the others, lay in a row. Each consisted of a sack offlour, a bundle of bacon, a bag of beans, a box, a camp stove, a pick, ashovel, and a tent. These were to be packed, covered with a mantle, andcaught by "the diamond hitch."

  Mose laid aside hat and coat, and as the six pack horses approached,seized the one intended for him. Catching the saddle blanket up by thecorners, he shook it straight, folded it once, twice--and threw it tothe horse. The sawbuck followed it, the cinch flying high so that itshould go clear. A tug, a grunt from the horse, and the saddle was on.Unwinding the sling ropes, he made his loops, and end-packed the box.Against it he put both flour and beans. Folding the tent square he laidit between. On this he set the stove, and packing the smaller bagsaround it, threw on the mantle. As he laid the hitch and began to goaround the pack, the crowd began to cheer:

  "Go it, Mose!"

  "He's been there before."

  "Well, I guess," said another.

  Mose set his foot to the pack and "pinched" the hitch in front. Nothingremained now but the pick, shovel, and coffee can. The tools he crowdedunder the ropes on either side, tied the cans under the pack at the backand called Kintuck, "Come on, boy." The old horse with shining eyes drewnear. Catching his mane, Mose swung to the saddle, Kintuck nipped theladen cayuse, and they were off while the next best man was stillworrying over the hitch.

  "Nine dollars to the good on that transaction," muttered Mose, as themarshal handed him a ten dollar gold piece.

  "The next exercise on the programme," announced Haney, "will be theroping contest. The crowd will please be as quiet as possible while thisis going on. Bring on your cows."

  Down the track in a cloud of dust came a bunch of cattle of all shapesand sizes. They came snuffing and bawling, urged on by a band ofcowboys, while a cordon of older men down the track stopped and heldthem before the judge's stand.

  "First exercise--'rope and hold,'" called the marshal. "Denver Dan comesfirst."

  Dan spurred into the arena, his rope swinging gracefully in his suppleup-raised wrist.

  "Which one you want?" he asked.

  "The line-back yearling," called Haney.

  With careless cast Dan picked up both hind feet of the calf--his horseset his hoofs and held the bawling brute.

  "All right," called the judge. The rope was slackened and the calfleaped up. Dan then successively picked up any foot designated by themarshal. "Left hind foot! Right fore foot!" and so on with almostunerring accuracy. His horse, calm and swift, obeyed every word andevery shift of his rider's body. The crowd cheered, and those who cameafter added nothing to the contest.

  Mose rode into the inclosure with impassive face. He could onlyduplicate the deeds of those who had gone before so long as his work wasgoverned by the marshal--but when, as in the case of others, he was freeto "put on frills," he did so. Tackling the heaviest and wildest steer,he dropped his rope over one horn and caught up one foot, then taking aloose turn about his pommel he spoke to Kintuck. The steer reached theend of the rope with terrible force. It seemed as if the saddle mustgive way--but the strain was cunningly met, and the brute tumbled andlaid flat with a wild bawl. While Kintuck held him Mose took a cigarfrom his pocket, bit the end off, struck a match and puffed carelesslyand lazily. It was an old trick, but well done, and the spectatorscheered heartily.

  After a few casts of almost equal brilliancy, Mose leaped to the groundwith the rope in his hand, and while Kintuck looked on curiously, hebegan a series of movements which one of Delmar's Mexicans had taughthim. With the noose spread wide he kept it whirling in the air as if itwere a hoop. He threw it into the air and sprang through it, he loweredit to the ground, and leaping into it, flung it far above his head. Inhis hand this inert thing developed snakelike action. It took on loopsand scallops and retained them, apparently in defiance of all known lawsof physics--controlled and governed by the easy, almost imperceptiblemotions of his steel-like wrist.

  "Forty-five dollars more to the good," said Mose grimly as the decisioncame in his favor.

  "See here--going to take all the prizes?" asked one of the judges.

  "So long as you keep to my line of business," replied he.

  The races came next. Kintuck took first money on the straightaway dash,but lost on the long race around the pole. It nearly broke his heart,but he came in second to Denver Dan's sorrel twice in succession.

  Mose patted the old horse and said: "Never mind, old boy, you pulled inforty dollars more for me."

  Reynolds had tears in his eyes as he came up.

  "The old hoss cain't compete on the long stretches. He's like amiddle-aged man--all right for a short dash--but the youngsters have thebest wind--they get him on the mile course."

  In the trained pony contest the old horse redeemed himself. He knelt atcommand, laid out flat while Mose crouched behind, and at the word "Up!"sprang to his feet and waited--then with his master clinging to hismane he ran in a circle or turned to right or left at signal. All the
tricks which the cavalry had taught their horses, Mose, in years on thetrail, had taught Kintuck. He galloped on three legs and waltzed like acircus horse. He seemed to know exactly what his master said to him.

  A man with a big red beard came up to Mose as he rode off the track andsaid:

  "What'll you take for that horse?"

  Mose gave him a savage glance. "He ain't for sale."

  The broncho-busting contest Mose declined.

  "How's that?" inquired Haney, who hated to see his favorite "gig back"at a point where his courage could be tested.

  "I've busted all the bronchos for fun I'm going to," Mose replied.

  Dan called in a sneering tone: "Bring on your varmints. I'm not dodgin'mean cayuses to-day."

  Mose could not explain that for Mary's sake he was avoiding all danger.There was risk in the contest and he knew it, and he couldn't afford totake it.

  "That's all right!" he sullenly replied. "I'll be with you later in thegame."

  A wall-eyed roan pony, looking dull and stupid, was led before thestand. Saddled and bridled he stood dozing while the crowd hooted withderision.

  "Don't make no mistake!" shouted Haney; "he's the meanest critter on theupper fork."

  A young lad named Jimmy Kincaid first tackled the job, and as he ranalongside and tried the cinch, the roan dropped an ear back--the eartoward Jimmy, and the knowing ones giggled with glee. "He's wakin'up!Look out, Jim!"

  The lad gathered the reins in his left hand, seized the pommel with hisright, and then the roan disclosed his true nature. He was an old rebel.He did not waste his energies on common means. He plunged at once intothe most complicated, furious, and effective bucking he could devise,almost without moving out of his tracks--and when the boy, stunned andbleeding at the nose, sprawled in the dust, the roan moved away a fewsteps and dozed, panting and tense, apparently neither angry norfrightened.

  One of the Reynolds gang tried him next and "stayed with him" till hethrew himself. When he arose the rider failed to secure his stirrups andwas thrown after having sat the beast superbly. The miners were warmingto the old roan. Many of them had never seen a pitching broncho before,and their delight led to loud whoops and jovial outcries.

  "Bully boy, roan! Shake 'em off!"

  Denver Dan tried him next and sat him, haughtily contemptuous, till hestopped, quivering with fatigue and reeking with sweat.

  "Oh, well!" yelled a big miner, "that ain't a fair shake for the pony;you should have took him when he was fresh." And the crowd sustained himin it.

  "Here comes one that is fresh," called the marshal, and into the arenacame a wicked-eyed, superbly-fashioned black roan horse, plainly wildand unbroken, led by two cowboys, one on either side.

  Joe Grassi shook a handfull of bills down at the crowd. "Here's ahundred dollars to the man who'll set that pony three minutes by thewatch."

  "This is no place to tackle such a brute as that," said Reynolds.

  Mose was looking straight ahead with a musing look in his eyes.

  Denver Dan walked out. "I need that hundred dollars; nail it to a postfor a few minutes, will ye?"

  This was no tricky old cow pony, but a natively vicious, powerful, andcunning young horse. While the cowboys held him Dan threw off his coatand hat and bound a bandanna over the bronchos's head and pulled it downover his eyes. Laying the saddle on swiftly, but gently, he cinched itstrongly. With determined and vigorous movement, he thrust the bit intohis mouth.

  "Slack away!" he called to the ropers. The horse, nearly dead for lackof breath, drew a deep sigh.

  Haney called out: "Stand clear, everybody, clear the road!"

  And casting one rope to the ground, Dan swung into the saddle.

  For just an instant the horse crouched low and waited--then shot intothe air with a tigerish bound and fell stiff-legged. Again and again heflung his head down, humped his back, and sprang into the air gruntingand squealing with rage and fear. Dan sat him, but the punishment madehim swear. Suddenly the horse dropped and rolled, hoping to catch hisrider unawares. Dan escaped by stepping to the ground, but he was white,and the blood was oozing slowly from his nose. As the brute arose, Danwas in the saddle. With two or three tremendous bounds, the horse flunghimself into the air like a high-vaulting acrobat, landing so near thefence that Dan, swerving far to the left, was unseated, and sprawled lowin the dust while the squealing broncho went down the track bucking andlashing out with undiminished vigor.

  Dan staggered to his feet, stunned and bleeding. He swore most terribleoaths that he would ride that wall-eyed brute if it took a year.

  "You've had your turn. It was a fair fight," called Kelly.

  "Who's the next ambitious man?" shouted Haney.

  "I don't want no truck with that," said the cowboys among themselves.

  "Not in a place like this," said Jimmy. "A feller's liable to get mashedagin a fence."

  Mose stood with hands gripping a post, his eyes thoughtful. Suddenly hethrew off his coat.

  "I'll try him," he said.

  "Oh, I don't think you'd better; it'll bung you all up," cautionedReynolds.

  Mose said in a low voice: "I'm good for him, and I need that money."

  "Let him breathe awhile," called the crowd as the broncho was broughtback, lariated as before. "Give him a show for his life."

  Mose muttered to Reynolds: "He's due to bolt, and I'm going to quirt hima-plenty."

  The spectators, tense with joy, filled the air with advice and warning."Don't let him get started. Keep him away from the fence."

  Mose wore a set and serious look as he approached the frenzied beast.There was danger in this trick--a broken leg or collar bone might makehis foolhardiness costly. In his mind's eye he could foresee thebroncho's action. He had escaped down the track once, and would do thesame again after a few desperate bounds--nevertheless Mose dreaded theterrible concussion of those stiff-legged leapings.

  Standing beside the animal's shoulder he slipped off the ropes and swungto the saddle. The beast went off as before, with three or four terriblebuck jumps, but Mose plied the quirt with wild shouting, and suddenly,abandoning his pitching, the horse set off at a tearing pace around thetrack. For nearly half way he ran steadily--then began once more to humphis back and leap into the air.

  "He's down!" yelled some one.

  "No, he's up again--and Mose is there," said Haney.

  The crowd, not to be cheated of their fun, raced across the oval wherethe battle was still going on.

  The princess was white with anxiety and ordered her coachman to "Getthere quick as God'll let ye." When she came in sight the horse wastearing at Mose's foot with his teeth.

  "Time's up!" called Haney.

  "Make it ten," said Mose, whose blood was hot.

  The beast dropped and rolled, but arose again under the sting of thequirt and renewed his frenzied attack. As Mose roweled him he kickedwith both hind feet as if to tear the cinch from his belly. He reared onhis toes and fell backward. He rushed with ferocious cunning against thecorral, forcing his rider to stand in the opposite stirrup, then bucked,keeping so close to the fence that Mose was forced to hang to his maneand fight him from tearing his flesh with his savage teeth. Twice hewent down and rolled over, but when he arose Mose was on his back. Twicehe flung himself to the earth, and the second time he broke the bridlerein, but Mose, catching one piece, kept his head up while he roweledhim till the blood dripped in the dust.

  At last, after fifteen minutes of struggle, the broncho again made offaround the track at a rapid run. As he came opposite the judge's standMose swung him around in a circle and leaped to the ground, leaving thehorse to gallop down the track. Dusty, and quivering with fatigue, Mosewalked across the track and took up his coat.

  "You earned your money, Mose," said Grassi, as he handed out the roll ofbills.

  "I'll think so to-morrow morning, I reckon," replied Mose, and his walkshowed dizziness and weakness.

  "You've had the easy end of it," said Dan. "You should have took
himwhen I did, when he was fresh."

  "You didn't stay on him long enough to weaken him any," said Mose inoffensive reply, and Dan did not care to push the controversy anyfurther.

  "That spoils my shooting now," Mose said to Haney. "I couldn't hit theside of a mule."

  "Oh, you'll stiddy up after dinner."

  "Good boy!" called the crisp voice of Mrs. Raimon. "Come here, I want totalk with you."

  He could not decently refuse to go to the side of her carriage. She hadwith her a plain woman, slightly younger than herself, who passed forher niece. The two men who came with them were in the judge's stand.

  Leaning over, she spoke with sudden intensity. "My God! you mustn't takesuch risks--I'm all of a quiver. You're too good a man to be killed by amiserable bucking broncho. Don't do it again, for my sake--if that don'tcount, for _her_ sake."

  And he in sudden joy and confidence replied: "That's just why I did it;for her sake."

  Her eyes set in sudden alarm. "What do you mean?"

  "You'll know in a day or two. I'm going to quit my job."

  "I know," she said with a quick indrawn breath, "you're going away.Who's that girl I saw you talking with to-day? Is that the one?"

  He laughed at her for the first time. "Not by a thousand miles."

  "What do you mean by that? Does she live in Chicago?"

  He ceased to laugh and grew a little darker of brow, and she quietlyadded: "That's none o' my business, you'd like to say. All right--say itisn't. But won't you get in and go down to dinner with me? I want tohonor the champion--the Ivanhoe of the tournament."

  He shook his head. "No, I've promised to picnic with some old friends ofmine."

  "That girl over there?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, just as you say, but you must eat with me to-night, will you?Come now, what do you say?"

  With a half promise Mose walked away toward the Reynolds' carriage--notwithout regret, for there was charm in the princess, both in her ownhandsome person and because she suggested a singular world of which heknew nothing. She allured and repelled at the same time.

  Beside the buggy Cora and Mrs. Reynolds had spread a substantial lunch,and in such humble company the victor of the tournament ate his dinner,while Dan and the rest galloped off to a saloon.

  "I don't know what I can do with the gun," he said in reply to aquestion from Cora. "My nerves are still on the jump; I guess I'll keepout of the contest--it would hurt my reputation to miss." He turned toReynolds: "Capt'n, I want you to get me a chance to punch cattle on acar down to Chicago."

  Reynolds looked surprised. "What fur do you want to go to Chicago, Mose?I never have knew you to mention hit befo'."

  Mose felt his skin growing red. "Well, I just thought I'd like to take aturn in the States and see the elephant."

  "You'll see the hull circus if you go to Chicago," said Mrs. Reynolds."They say it's a terrible wicked place."

  "I don't suppose it's any worse than Wagon Wheel, ma," said Cora.

  "Yes, but it's so much bigger."

  "Well, mother," said Reynolds, "a bear is bigger than a ho'net, but theho'net can give him points and beat him, suah thing."

  Mose was rather glad of this diversion, for when Reynolds spoke again itwas to say: "I reckon I can fix it for you. When do you want it?"

  "Right off, this week."

  "Be gone long?"

  Cora waited anxiously for his answer, and his hesitation and uncertaintyof tone made her heart grow heavy.

  "Oh, no--only a short trip, I reckon. Got to get back before my moneygives out."

  He did not intend to enter the revolver contest, but it offered so easyto his hand that he went in and won hands down. His arm was lame, buthis nerves, not fevered by whisky, swiftly recovered tone. He wascareful, however, not to go beyond the limits of the contest as heshould have done had his arm possessed all of its proper cunning. He hadno real competitor but Dan, who had been drinking steadily all day andwas unfitted for his work. Mose lost nothing in the trial.

  That night he put into his pocket one hundred and twenty dollars as theresult of his day's work, and immediately asked to be released of hisduties as guard.

  The manager of the Express Company said: "I'm sorry you're leaving us,and I hope you'll return to us soon. I'll hold the place open for you,if you say so."

  This Mose refused. "I don't like it," he said. "I don't think I earn themoney. Hire a good driver and he'll have no trouble. You don't needme."

  Mindful of his promise to eat dinner with the princess, he said toReynolds: "Don't wait for me. Go on--I'll overtake you at Twelve MileCreek."

  The princess had not lost sight of him for a single moment, and theinstant he departed from his friends she drove up. "You are to come tomy house to-night, remember."

  "I must overtake my folks; I can't stay long," he said lamely.

  Her power was augmented by her home. He had expected pictures and finecarpets and a piano and they were there, but there was a great dealmore. He perceived a richness of effect which he could not haveformulated better than to say, "It was all _fine_." He had expectedthings to be costly and gay of color, but this mysterious fitness ofeverything was a marvel to one like himself, used only to the meagerornaments of the homes in Rock River, or the threadbare poverty of theranches and the squalid hotels of the cow country. The house was a largenew frame building, not so much different from other houses with respectto exterior, but as he entered the door he took off his hat to it as heused to do as a lad in the home of Banker Brooks, deacon in his father'schurch.

  His was a sensitive soul, eye and ear were both acute. He perceived,without accounting for it, that the walls and hangings werecomplementary in color, that the furniture matched the carpet, and thatthe pictures on the wall were unusually good. They were not allhighly-colored, naked subjects, as he had been led to expect. Hisrespect for Mrs. Raimon rose, for he remembered that Mary's home, whilejust as different from this as Mary was different from Mrs. Raimon, had,after all, something in common--both were beautiful to him, thoughMary's home was sweeter, daintier, and homelier. He was in the midst ofan analysis of these subtleties when Mrs. Raimon (as he now determinedto call her) returned from changing her dress.

  He was amazed at the change in her. She wore a dark gray gown withalmost no ornament, and looked smaller, older, and paler, butincomparably more winning and womanly than she had ever seemed before.She appeared to be serious and her voice was gentle and winning.

  "Well, boy, here you are--under my roof. Not such an awful den afterall, is it?" she said with a smile.

  "Beats a holler log in a snowstorm," he replied, looking about the room."Must have shipped all this truck from the States, it never was builtout here--it would take me a couple of months to earn a whole outfitlike this, wouldn't it?"

  She remained serious. "Mose, I want to tell you----"

  "Wait a minute," he interrupted; "let's start fair. My name is HaroldExcell, and I'm going to call you Mrs. Raimon."

  She thrust out her hand. "Good boy!" He could see she was profoundlypleased. Indeed she could not at once resume. At last she said: "I wasgoing to say, Harold, that you can't earn a home trailin' around overthese mountains year after year with a band of Indians."

  He became thoughtful. "I reckon you're right about that. I'm wastingtime; I've got to picket old Kintuck somewhere and go to work if I----"

  He stopped abruptly and she smiled mournfully. "You needn't hesitate;tell me all about it."

  He sat in silence--a silence that at last became a rebuke. She arose."Well, suppose we go out to supper; we can talk all the better there."

  He felt out of place and self-conscious, but he gave little outward signof it as he took his seat at the table opposite her. For reasons of herown she emphasized the domestic side of her life and fairly awed thestern youth by her womanly dignity and grace. The little table was setfor two, with pretty dishes. Liquor had no place on the cover, but ashining tea-pot, brought in by a smiling negress, was placed at herri
ght hand. Her talk for a time was of the tea, the food, his taste asto sugar and other things pertaining to her duties as hostess. All hislurid imaginings of her faded into the wind, and a thousand new and oldconceptions of wife and home and peaceful middle age came thronging likesober-colored birds. If she were playing a game it was well done andsuccessful. Mose fell often into silence and deep thought.

  She respected his introspection, and busying herself with the serviceand with low-voiced orders to the waitress, left him free for a time.

  Suddenly she turned. "You mustn't judge me by what people say outside.Judge me by what I am to you. I don't claim to be a Sunday-schoolteacher, but I average up pretty well, after all. I appear to adisadvantage. When Raimon died I took hold of his business out here andI've made it pay. I have a talent for business, and I like it. I've gotenough to be silly with if I want to, but I intend to take care ofmyself--and I may even marry again. I can see you're deeply involved ina love affair, Mose, and I honestly want to help you--but I shan't sayanother word about it--only remember, when you need help you come toMartha Jane Williams Raimon. How is that for a name? It's mine; myfather was Lawrence Todd Williams, Professor of Paleontology at BlankCollege. Raimon was an actor of the tenth rate--the kind that playleading business in the candlestick circuit. Naturally Doctor Toddobjected to an actor as a son-in-law. I eloped. Launt was a good fellow,and we had a happy honeymoon, but he lost his health and came out hereand invested in a mine. That brought me. I was always lucky, and westruck it--but the poor fellow didn't live long enough to enjoy it. Youknow all," she ended with a curious forced lightness of utterance.

  After another characteristic silence, Mose said slowly: "Anyhow, I wantyou to understand that I'm much obliged for your good will; I'm notworth a cuss at putting things in a smooth way; I think I'm gettingworse every day, but you've been my friend, and--and there's no discounton my words when I tell you you've made me feel ashamed of myselfto-day. From this time on, I take no other man's judgment of a woman.You know my life--all there is that would interest you. I don't know howto talk to a woman--any kind of a woman--but no matter what I say, Idon't mean to do anybody any harm. I'm getting a good deal like anIndian--I talk to make known what's on my mind. Since I was seventeenyears of age I've let girls pretty well alone. The kind I meet alongsidethe trail don't interest me. When I was a boy I was glib enough, but Iknow a whole lot less now than I did then--that is about some things.What I started to say is this: I'm mighty much obliged for what you'vedone for me here--but I'm going to pull out to-night----"

  "Not for good?" she said.

  "Well--that's beyond me. All I know is I hit the longest and wildesttrail I ever entered. Where it comes out at I don't know. But I shan'tforget you; you've been a good friend to me."

  Her voice faltered a little as she said: "I wish you'd write to me andlet me know how you are?"

  "Oh, don't expect that of me. I chew my tongue like a ten-year-old kidwhen I write. I never was any good at it, and I'm clear out of it now.The chances are I'll round up in the mountains again; I can't see howI'd make a living anywhere else. If I come back this way I'll let youknow."

  Neither of them was eating now, and the tension was great. She knew thatno artifice could keep him, and he was aware of her emotion and waseager to escape.

  He pushed back his chair at last, and she arose and came toward him andtook his hand, standing so close to him that her bosom almost touchedhis shoulder.

  "I hate to see you go!" she said, and the passionate tremor in her voicemoved him very deeply. "You've brought back my interest in simplethings--and life seems worth while when I'm with you."

  He shook her hand and then dropped it. "Well, so long."

  "So long!" she said, and added, with another attempt at brightness, "anddon't stay away too long, and don't fail to let me know when you makethe circuit."

  As he mounted his horse he remembered that there was another good-by tospeak, and that was to Cora.

  "I wish these women would let a man go without saying good-by at all,"he thought in irritation, but the patter of Kintuck's feet set histhought in other directions. As he topped the divide, he drew rein andlooked at the great range to the southeast, lit by the dull red light ofthe sun, which had long since set to the settlers in the valley. Hisheart was for a moment divided. The joys of the trail--the care-freelife--perhaps after all the family life was not for him. Perhaps he waschasing a mirage. He was on the divide of his life. On one side were themountains, the camps, the cattle, the wild animals--on the other theplains, the cities, and Mary.

  The thought of Mary went deep. It took hold of the foundations of histhinking and decided him. Shuddering with the pain and despair of hislove he lifted rein and rode down into the deep shadow of the long canonthrough which roared the swift waters of the North Fork on their longjourney to the east and south. Thereafter he had no uncertainties. Likethe water of the canon he had but to go downward to the plain.