Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  “Oh-h!” cried Leslie, outraged, reddening from neck to brow. And she wheeled her horse to lope far along the line toward Red. “That should hold her awhile,” murmured Sterl, regretfully. “Too bad I’ve got to be mean to her! But...”

  Slyter halted for camp at the foot of a ridge running out like a spur from the rougher bushland. Manifestly a stream came from around that ridge. It was no later than midafternoon with the sun still warm. A short trek, Sterl thought. Cattle and horses made for the stream, which turned out to be a river that could not be forded with wagons at this point.

  Sterl was pitching his tent when Red and Leslie rode in. The girl rode by him as if he had not been there.

  Red slid out of his saddle in his old inimitable way, and with slap on flank, sent his horse scampering.

  “About ten miles, I’d say,” he drawled. “Slick camp an’ a hefty river...Say, pard, what’n’ll did you do to the kid? Leslie was all broke up.”

  “She bothers me, Red.”

  “Ahuh. I savvy. I’m feared she likes you an’ hasn’t no idee at all about it.”

  Sterl remained silent, revolving in his mind a realization prompted by Red’s talk — that he had felt a distinct throb of pleasure. This would never do!

  The cowboys finished their chores, then strolled over to Slyter. Leslie sat near, writing in her journal.

  On impulse, Sterl turned to the girl. “Leslie, where is Friday?” As she did not appear to hear, he asked her again. Then she looked up. “Please do not annoy me, Mr. Hazelton. I’m composing poetry,” she said coldly.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE LATE AFTERNOON hour arrived at length when Slyter caught up with the Dann brothers and their partners. From here the drovers would push on together to the end.

  Slyter led his mob to the left and hauled up on the wide curve of a stream. In the center, half a mile from Slyter, the Dann encampment, with its ten wagons, and drays, its canvas tents bright against the green, its blue smokes and active figures, made an imposing sight, to Sterl’s eyes like a plains caravan. Farther to the right showed the camp of Hathaway and Woolcott. Hundreds of horses grazed in between. Across the river flamed the enormous mob of cattle which the drovers had evidently thrown together — twice as much stock as Sterl had ever seen at one time.

  With Slyter’s mob and remuda placed to rest and graze, the drivers made toward camp by divers routes. Sterl arrived first. The black horse, King, had completed his conquest over the cowboy. They had taken to each other. King recognized a gentle, firm and expert master; Sterl reluctantly crowned the black for spirit, tirelessness and speed, and for remarkable power in the water. After a first ford over slippery rocks Sterl had iron shoes put on him, and that made him invincible.

  While Sterl was unrolling the tent, Red and Leslie rode in. Exposure and sun had given the girl a golden tan, which magnified her charm. After that tiff the second day out, she had persistently ignored Sterl.

  “Pile off, Red, and go through the motions,” called Sterl, and soon his comrade was helping, markedly reticent for him.

  “Well, what’s on your chest?” queried Sterl.

  “Wal, this nice long easy drive is over. It’ll be hell from now on. Sterl, what you think? — Leslie has commissioned me to beg you to forgive her for being catty.”

  “Yeah? — Red, you can tell Leslie to ask me herself. I was deliberately rude to her. And I’m sorry. She’s worried, now that we’ve caught up with the big outfit.”

  “Shore is. An’ so’m I. But once I get mad, I’ll be good-o, as Leslie says.”

  “Rightho, as Leslie says.”

  Before sundown of that important day, supper had been disposed of, and Slyter had stridden off to visit Dann, accompanied by Drake, and calling upon Sterl and Red to follow.

  “Boss, take Red, and let me stay in camp,” suggested Sterl.

  “No. I may need you. Stanley will ask for you. As for Ormiston — the sooner you meet him the better. I ask you to meet him.”

  “Thanks, Slyter. I’ll come.”

  “Dad, please let me come with the boys? I want to see Beryl,” entreated Leslie.

  “Of course, my dear. I’d forgotten you.”

  “Red, you run along with Leslie,” put in Sterl. “I want to shave. Be with you in a jiffy.”

  Beside the grandest monarch of all these eucalyptus trees, he came upon the wagon and camp of Dann’s sister and his daughter Beryl. Leslie was talking excitedly with the girl, while Red stood, sombrero in hand, listening. Sterl was introduced and greeted cordially. Beryl wore boy’s garb, more attractive and not so worn as Leslie’s.

  “Doesn’t it seem long since we all met, way back there in Downsville?” she asked. “I nearly died of homesickness for days. But now it’s not too bad. I intend to be a drover, like Leslie.”

  “Wal,” interposed Red, “we shore need another trail driver.”

  “How queerly you cowboys carry your pistols!” exclaimed Beryl, indicating the low-hanging sheaths, well down the right thighs. “Dad’s drovers stick them in their hip pockets, or under a belt.”

  “Wal, Miss Dann,” drawled Red, “you see us cowboys gotta throw a gun quick sometimes, an’ it needs to be handy.”

  “Where do you throw it?” she asked, curiously.

  “Aw, at jack rabbits, or any ole varmint thet happens along.”

  “Miss Beryl, Red is teasing you,” chimed in Sterl. “To throw a gun means to jerk it out, quickly — like this.”

  “How strange!...Oh, so you can shoot quickly at your antagonists?”

  “Exactly. And the cowboy who throws his quickest has the best chance to survive. Please excuse us, Miss Beryl. Our boss wants us in on the conference over there.”

  A little group of men stood in a half circle back of Stanley Dann, who sat before a box doing duty as a table. Here the cowboys met the leader’s partners. Eric Dann, the younger of the two brothers, was short and strongly built, but rather stern, dark features. Hathaway was tall and florid, apparently under fifty years. Woolcott appeared fully sixty, a bearded man, with deep-set eyes and gloomy mien.

  “All of you have a look at this map,” spoke up Dann, indicating a paper on the box. “Eric drew it from memory. And of course it isn’t accurate as to distance or points. Still, it will give you a general idea of the country at the headwaters of the rivers that run into the Gulf of Carpentaria...This line marks the road we’re on, and which we can trek fairly well. This dark line, way up in Queensland, is the Diamantina River, an important obstacle. This open space represents the Never-never — some two thousand miles across, perhaps. Beyond to the northwest, are the Kimberleys, our destination — please God! You observe that they run northwest...Hello, Ormiston, you’re just in time to give your opinion...Well, my brother wants to follow this old wagon trek beyond the headwaters of the Diamantina River and the Warburton, on north across the Gulf rivers, and then west to Wyndham and the Kimberleys. There’s no telling how much farther this route will be, probably a thousand miles. Too far! And just as hard; its only good feature is that it has been traveled. Striking west beyond the Diamantina to the Warburton, following that to its headwaters, and then striking straight west again, will be a short cut and save us, Lord only knows how much! I call for a vote from each man present except Drake. And I include these American cowboys, with your permission, because they have had extensive experience in droving cattle.”

  The vote ended in a deadlock, Slyter, Sterl and Red arraying themselves upon Stanley Dann’s side; the others standing by Eric. The leader showed no feeling whatsoever, but Eric Dann and Ormiston argued vigorously for the longer and once-traveled route.

  Sterl listened and bent piercing eyes upon this quartet, and at length his deductions were clear-cut, and he would have sworn by them. Eric Dann feared to take the great trek into the unknown. Ormiston had some personal reason for standing by Eric Dann, and he had influenced Hathaway and Woolcott.

  “Very well. It hangs fire for the present,” concluded Stanley Dann. �
�Perhaps the months to come will bring at least one of you gentlemen to reason.”

  If Ormiston tried to conceal his satisfaction he failed to hide it from Sterl.

  “Hazelton,” said Stanley Dann, “I’m curious to know what you think, if you’ll commit yourself.”

  “Are there black men all over this Never-never Land?” countered Sterl.

  “Yes, according to our few explorers.”

  “If they can be propitiated, perhaps we could learn from them, as the pathfinders in my country have learned from the Indians.”

  “Good idea!” boomed the leader.

  “These niggers are a mean, lying, unscrupulous race,” put in Ormiston, contemptuously.

  “Perhaps because of the treatment white men have given them,” spoke up Slyter.

  Ormiston for the moment let well enough alone. Sterl espied Leslie and Beryl, accompanied by a frank-featured blond young giant, nearing the group. He accosted Red.

  “Krehl, good day. Glad to see you again,” he said, agreeably, as he extended a hand.

  “Howdy yoreself,” drawled Red, with guile meeting guile. And he shook hands.

  “Sorry you are on the wrong side of the fence. But you’re a stranger in Australia. I venture to predict you’re too experienced an outdoor man to be long deceived by mirages.”

  “Hell no. I cain’t be deceived forever. But this heah country is so grand, I jest don’t believe in your Never-never.”

  “It’s a fact, however, and I hope you don’t learn from bitter experience.”

  “Yeah? Wal, you’re orful kind.”

  At this juncture, Leslie with her companions came up to Slyter and Dann. Sterl knew absolutely that Ormiston had timed for their benefit whatever he meant to do, and he burned under his cool exterior.

  “Hello, Hazelton,” called the drover, in pleasant and resounding tones. “I’ve wanted to meet you again, to tell you I regret the unpleasantness of our meeting at Downsville.”

  “I’m sure you regret it, Ormiston,” replied Sterl, ignoring the proffered hand, and his piercing gaze met the drover’s dark, veiled eyes.

  “I didn’t regret it because I booted that black,” rejoined Ormiston, slowly withdrawing his hand.

  “That was perfectly obvious,” retorted Sterl, not without contempt.

  “Why do you think I regret it?” flashed the drover.

  “Because you ran into the wrong man and got shown up,” flashed Sterl, just as quickly.

  “No. I regretted it because I was drunk.”

  “Drunk or sober you’d be about the same, Ormiston.”

  Slyter had approached to within a few steps, and Dann, with the girls hanging to him, started and dismayed, halted beside him, while the others stood back.

  “Nonsense,” burst out Ormiston. “No man is responsible when he’s drunk.”

  “Righto. That’s why you gave yourself away,” retorted Sterl.

  Ormiston threw up his hands with a gesture indicating the hopelessness of placating this hard headed American. But under the surface was a mastered fury.

  “Cowboy, I approached you to express my regret — to apologize — to prevent discord!”

  “If you’re so keen on preventing discord, why did you excite it and foment it between our leader and his other partner?” Sterling’s tone was contemptuous. As he ended he completed his few slow steps to one side. To any westerner it would have been plain that Sterl wanted to get Ormiston out of line with the others. But the drover did not show that he realized that.

  “I’m not exciting discord,” returned Ormiston, hotly. “I come from North Queensland. I know something of the Gulf country. Eric Dann is right and Stanley Dann is wrong. It’s the safer route.”

  “Ormiston, how do you know it’s safer?” queried Sterl, sharply.

  “Eric Dann knows. Hathaway and Woolcott are convinced of it. That’s enough.”

  “Not by a damn sight! Not enough for you to split this outfit,” declared Sterl deliberately.

  “You insolent, cocksure Yankee...”

  “Careful!” interrupted Sterl. “Ormiston, you’re not on the level. You’ve got something up your sleeve. You’ll never get away with it.”

  Ormiston wheeled to the other men. “Dann, you heard him. This intolerable riffraff — this Yankee...”

  “Ormiston, you started this,” boomed the leader, as the drover choked. “It’s between you and him.”

  “Miss Dann — I appeal to you,” went on Ormiston, his voice shaking. “Your father has been — taken in by this — this interloper. Won’t you speak up for me?”

  “Dad! It’s an outrage,” cried Beryl, white of face and angry of eye. “Will you permit this crude, lowbred American to insult Ashley so vilely — to threaten him?”

  “Girl, go to your tent,” ordered Dann, sternly. “If you must take sides you should take mine. Go — it’s no place for you!”

  “But Dad!” cried the spirited girl. “It is. We’re all in it!”

  “Yes, and it appears I shouldn’t have brought you. At least try not to make it harder.”

  Beryl bent a withering glance upon Sterl. “Mr. Cowboy, do not speak to me again.”

  “Suits me fine, Miss Dann,” replied Sterl curtly. “I’m bound to help and defend your father. Certainly not to concern myself with a girl who’s been made a fool of by a coward and a cheat!”

  Miss Dann gave Sterl a stinging slap on his cheek. Then she drew back, gasping, as if realizing to what limit her temper had led her. With red burning out the white of her face, she ran toward her wagon. Ormiston wheeled to three waiting men, evidently his drovers, and stormed away with them, violently gesticulating.

  Sterl watched them intently for a moment, then turned away toward Slyter’s camp. Stanley Dann called him to wait, but Sterl hurried on. Red did not catch up with him until he had almost reached the tent. Then both discovered that Stanley Dann, Slyter and Leslie had followed them.

  “Hazelton, don’t run away from me when I call you,” complained Dann, as he caught up.

  “I’m sorry, boss. I lost my temper.”

  “Then you fooled me, because I thought you deliberately invited a quarrel with Ormiston.”

  “Oh, he couldn’t rouse my temper. It was Miss Beryl. I shouldn’t have spoken as I did to her.”

  They found seats on a log; except Leslie, who significantly stood close to Sterl, her youthful face grave, her hazel eyes, darkly dilated, fastened upon him.

  “Les, you better run over to Mum,” said Slyter.

  “Not much, Dad. If Beryl is going to share the fights, and everything else, I am too.”

  “Good-o, Leslie,” declared Dann, heartily.

  “You stay here. I’m going to need all the championship possible...Hazelton, you spoke right from the shoulder. Man to man! I can’t understand why Ormiston stood it. What concerns me is this. Have you any justification for the serious insinuations and open accusations you visited upon Ormiston?”

  “Boss, they’re all a matter of instinct. I’ve been years on the frontier. I have met hundreds of bad men. I have had to suspect some of them, outguess them, be too quick for them — or get shot myself. Ormiston might have fooled me for awhile, if it had not been for the accident of his kicking Friday. But not for long! He’s playing a deep game — what, I can’t figure out — yet.”

  “Hazelton, you impress me,” pondered the leader. “I had only one feeling. You were opposing him in my interest. It seems incredible — what you insinuated about him. Yet you might possess some insight denied to me and my partners. This trek looms appallingly. That does not change me — frighten me in the least. But now I begin to see opposition, intrigue, perhaps treachery, blood and death.”

  “Boss, you can be sure of all of them,” rejoined Sterl, earnestly. “And you can be as sure that my opposition to Ormiston is on your behalf.”

  Dann nodded his shaggy golden mane like a sleepy lion.

  “Krehl, suppose you give me your view, unbiased by your friend’s,”
he said, presently.

  “Well, boss, when Ormiston rushed me like a bull, I wouldn’t have risked my precious right hand on his mug, like Sterl did. I’d jest have bored him, had a coupla drinks of red likker, an’ forgot all about him. We say Ormiston is no good. You give him the benefit of the doubt, an’ leave it to me an’ Sterl to find him out.”

  “Reason, intelligence, courage,” boomed the drover. “These I respect above all other qualities. You have my consent. Go slow. Be sure. That’s all I ask. Slyter, can you add anything to that?”

  “No, Stanley. That says all.”

  “Yes, and nothing shall deter us...Hazelton, I was surprised and sorry indeed at the way Beryl took Ormiston’s part. She is a headstrong, passionate child. Beryl has been pleading with me to make the trek by way of the Gulf.”

  Silent acceptance of that statement attested to its significance. Red dropped his gaze to the ground, and Sterl saw his lean brown hand clutch until the knuckles shone white.

  “Not that it influences me in the least,” continued Dann, rising.

  Slyter arose also, shaking his head. “As if droving a mob of eight thousand cattle wasn’t enough!”

  Leslie walked a few steps with him, then returned.

  “Dog-gone you, cain’t you leave me an’ Sterl alone atall?” complained Red, but a child could see that he did not mean that.

  Leslie looked from him to Sterl with troubled, grateful eyes.

  “Boys,” she said, breathing hard, “if Beryl is in it, so am I. And she is! She’s on Ash Ormiston’s side. He has been making love to her all along. Besides I know her. She had all the boys at home in love with her. She likes it. Cedric, that boy today. He came on this trek solely, because of Beryl. Ormiston — Oh, he is two-faced! Neither her father nor my Dad can see that.”

  “Wal, my dear, we can see it,” returned Red, persuasively. “I’m not as all-fired stuck on Beryl as I was, at thet. But let’s give her a chance.”

  “Sterl...won’t you see me...later?” implored Leslie. “I know you’ve been angry with me for days. I deserve it. I’m sorry. I told Red to tell you I’d been a cat. Sterl, I couldn’t bear to have you despise me longer.”