CHAPTER 22. EXIT THE "KING"
They bedded that night under the great vault-roof where twinkle amillion stars.
There were three of the outlaw's men with him, and both Mcwilliams andhis friend noticed that they slept a little apart from their chief.There were other indications among the rustlers of a camp dividedagainst itself. Bannister's orders to them he contrived to make aninsult, and their obedience was as surly as possible compatible withsafety. For all of the men knew that he would not hesitate to shoot themdown in one of his violent rages should they anger him sufficiently.
Throughout the night there was no time that at least two men were notawake in the camp. The foreman and the sheepman took turns keepingvigil; and on the other side of the fire sat one of the rustlers insilent watchfulness. To the man opposite him each of the sentinels wereoutposts of the enemy, but they fraternized after the manner of armysentries, exchanging tobacco and occasional casual conversation.
The foreman took the first turn, and opposite him sat a one-eyed oldscoundrel who had rustle calves from big outfits ever since Wyoming wasa territory and long before. Chalkeye Dave, he was called, and sometimesmerely Chalkeye. What his real name was no man knew. Nor was his past asubject for conversation in his presence. It was known that he had beenin the Nevada penitentiary, and that he had killed a man in Arizona, butthese details of an active life were rarely resurrected. For Chalkeyewas deadly on the shoot, and was ready for it at the drop of thehat, though he had his good points too. One of these was a remarkablefondness for another member of the party, a mere lad, called by hiscompanions Hughie. Generally surly and morose, to such a degree thateven his chief was careful to humor him as a rule, when with Hughie allthe softer elements of his character came to the surface. In his roughway he was ever humorous and genial.
Jim McWilliams found him neither, however. He declined to engage inconversation, accepted a proffer of tobacco with a silent, hostile gruntand relapsed into a long silence that lasted till his shift was ended.
"Hate to have y'u leave, old man. Y'u're so darned good company I'llce'tainly pine for you," the foreman suggested, with sarcasm, whenthe old man rolled up in his blankets preparatory to falling asleepimmediately.
Chalkeye's successor was a blatant youth much impressed with his ownimportance. He was both foul-mouthed and foul-minded, so that Jimwas constrained to interrupt his evil boastings by pretending to fallasleep.
It was nearly two o'clock when the foreman aroused his friend to takehis turn. Shortly after this the lad Hughie relieved the bragging,would-be bad man.
Hughie was a flaxen-haired, rather good-looking boy of nineteen. In hissmall, wistful face was not a line of wickedness, though it was plainthat he was weak. He seemed so unfit for the life he was leading thatthe sheepman's interest was aroused. For on the frontier it takes astrong, competent miscreant to be a bad man and survive. Ineffectivesand weaklings are quickly weeded out to their graves or thepenitentiaries.
The boy was manifestly under great fear of his chief, but the curlyhaired young Hermes who kept watch with him had a very winning smile anda charming manner when he cared to exert it. Almost in spite of himselfthe youngster was led to talk. It seemed that he had but lately joinedthe Teton-Shoshones outfit of desperadoes, and between the linesBannister easily read that his cousin's masterful compulsion had coercedthe young fellow. All he wanted was an opportunity to withdraw insafety, but he knew he could never do this so long as the "King" wasalive and at liberty.
Under the star-roof in the chill, breaking day Ned Bannister talked tohim long and gently. It was easy to bring the boy to tears, but it washarder thing to stiffen a will that was of putty and to hearten a soulin mortal fear. But he set himself with all the power in him to combatthe influence of his cousin over this boy; and before the camp stirredto life again he knew that he had measurably succeeded.
They ate breakfast in the gray dawn under the stars, and after they hadfinished their coffee and bacon horses were saddled and the trailtaken up again. It led in and out among the foot-hills sloppingupward gradually toward the first long blue line of the Shoshones thatstretched before them in the distance. Their nooning was at runningstream called Smith's Creek, and by nightfall the party was well up inthe higher foot hills.
In the course of the day and the second night both the sheepman andhis friend made attempt to establish a more cordial relationship withChalkeye, but so far as any apparent results went their efforts werevain. He refused grimly to meet their overtures half way, even though itwas plain from his manner that a break between him and his chief couldnot long be avoided.
All day by crooked trails they pushed forward, and as the party advancedinto the mountains the gloom of the mournful pines and frowning peaksinvaded its spirits. Suspicion and distrust went with it, camped atnight by the rushing mountain stream, lay down to sleep in the shadowsat every man's shoulder. For each man looked with an ominous eye on hisneighbor, watchful of every sudden move, of every careless word thatmight convey a sudden meaning.
Along a narrow rock-rim trail far above a steep canon, whose walls shotprecipitously down, they were riding in single file, when the outlawchief pushed his horse forward between the road wall and his cousin'sbronco. The sheepman immediately fell back.
"I reckon this trail isn't wide enough for two--unless y'u take theoutside," he explained quietly.
The outlaw, who had been drinking steadily ever since leaving the LazyD, laughed his low, sinister cackle. "Afraid of me, are y'u? Afraid I'llpush y'u off?"
"Not when I'm inside and you don't have chance."
"'Twas a place about like this I drove for thousand of your sheep overlast week. With sheep worth what they are I'm afraid it must havecost y'u quite a bit. Not that y'u'll miss it where you are going," hehastened to add.
"It was very like you to revenge yourself on dumb animals."
"Think so?" The "King's" black gaze rested on him. "Y'u'll sing adifferent song soon Mr. Bannister. It's humans I'll drive next time anddon't y'u forget it."
"If you get the chance," amended his cousin gently.
"I'll get the chance. I'm not worrying about that. And about thosesheep--any man that hasn't got more sense than to run sheep in a cowcountry ought to lose them for his pig-headedness.
"Those sheep were on the right side of the dead-line. You had to crossit to reach them." Their owner's steady eyes challenged a denial.
"Is that so? Now how do y'u know that? We didn't leave the herder aliveto explain that to y'u, did we?"
"You admit murdering him?"
"To y'u, dear cousin. Y'u see, I have a hunch that maybe y'u'll go joinyour herder right soon. Y'u'll not do much talking."
The sheepman fell back. "I think I'll ride alone."
Rage flared in the other's eye. "Too good for me, are y'u, mymealy-mouthed cousin? Y'u always thought yourself better than me. Wheny'u were a boy you used to go sneaking to that old hypocrite, yourgrandfather--"
"You have said enough," interrupted the other sternly. "I'll not hearanother word. Keep your foul tongue off him."
Their eyes silently measured strength.
"Y'u'll not hear a word!" sneered the chief of the rustlers. "What willy'u do, dear cousin?
"Stand up and fight like a man and settle this thing once for all."
Still their steely eyes crossed as with the thrust of rapiers. Thechallenged man crouched tensely with a mighty longing for the test,but he had planned a more elaborate revenge and a surer one than this.Reluctantly he shook his head.
"Why should I? Y'u're mine. We're four to two, and soon we'll be a dozento two. I'd like a heap to oblige y'u, but I reckon I can't afford tojust now. Y'u will have to wait a little for that bumping off that'scoming to y'u."
"In that event I'll trouble you not to inflict your society on me anymore than is necessary."
"That's all right, too. If y'u think I enjoy your conversation y'u havegot another guess coming."
So by mutual consent the sheepman fell in behi
nd the blatant youth whohad wearied McWilliams so and rode in silence.
It was again getting close to nightfall. The slant sun was throwing itsrays on less and less of the trail. They could see the shadows grow andthe coolness of night sift into the air. They were pushing on to passthe rim of a great valley basin that lay like a saucer in the mountainsin order that they might camp in the valley by a stream all of themknew. Dusk was beginning to fall when they at last reached the sauceredge and only the opposite peaks were still tipped with the sun rays.This, too, disappeared before they had descended far, and the gloom ofthe great mountains that girt the valley was on all their spirits, evenMcWilliams being affected by it.
They were tired with travel, and the long night watches did not improvetempers already overstrained with the expectation of a crisis too longdragged out. Rain fell during the night, and continued gently in a mistydrizzle after day broke. It was a situation and an atmosphere ripe fortragedy, and it fell on them like a clap of thunder out of a sodden sky.
Hughie was cook for the day, and he came chill and stiff-fingered to histask. Summer as it was, there lay a thin coating of ice round the edgesof the stream, for they had camped in an altitude of about nine thousandfeet. The "King" had wakened in a vile humor. He had a splittingheadache, as was natural under the circumstances and he had not left inhis bottle a single drink to tide him over it. He came cursing to thestruggling fire, which was making only fitful headway against the rainwhich beat down upon it.
"Why didn't y'u build your fire on the side of the tree?" he growled atHughie.
Now, Hughie was a tenderfoot, and in his knowledge of outdoor life hewas still an infant. "I didn't know--" he was beginning, when his mastercut him short with a furious tongue lashing out of all proportion to theoffense.
The lad's face blanched with fear, and his terror was so manifest thatthe bully, who was threatening him with all manner of evils, began toenjoy himself. Chalkeye, returning from watering the horses, got backin time to hear the intemperate fag-end of the scolding. He glanced atHughie, whose hands were trembling in spite of him, and then darkly atthe brute who was attacking him. But he said not a word.
The meal proceeded in silence except for jeers and taunts of the "King."For nobody cared to venture conversation which might prove a match toa powder magazine. Whatever thoughts might be each man kept them tohimself.
"Coffee," snapped the single talker, toward end of breakfast.
Hughie jumped up, filled the cup that was handed him and set the coffeepot back on fire. As he handed the tin cup with the coffee to the outlawthe lad's foot slipped on a piece wet wood, and the hot liquid splashedover his chief's leg. The man jumped to his feet in a rage and struckthe boy across the face with his whip once, and then again.
"By God, that'll do for you!" cried Chalkeye from the other side of thefire, springing revolver in hand. "Draw, you coyote! I come a-shooting."
The "King" wheeled, finding his weapon he turned. Two shots rang outalmost simultaneously, and Chalkeye pitched forward. The outlaw chiefsank to his knees, and, with one hand resting on the ground to steadyhimself fired two more shots into the twitching body on the other sideof the fire. Then he, too, lurched forward and rolled over.
It had come to climax so swiftly that not one of them had moved exceptthe combatants. Bannister rose and walked over to the place where thebody of his cousin lay. He knelt down and examined him. When he rose itwas with a very grave face.
"He is dead," he said quietly.
McWilliams, who had been bending over Chalkeye, looked up. "Here, too.Any one of the shots would have finished him."
Bannister nodded. "Yes. That first exchange killed them both." He lookeddown at the limp body of his cousin, but a minute before so full ofsupple, virile life. "But his hate had to reach out and make sure, eventhough he was as good as dead himself. He was game." Then sharply to theyoung braggart, who had risen and was edging away with a face ofchalk: "Sit down, y'u! What do y'u take us for? Think this is to be amassacre?"
The man came back with palpable hesitancy. "I was aiming to go and getthe boys to bury them. My God, did you ever see anything so quick? Theydrilled through each other like lightning."
Mac looked him over with dry contempt. "My friend, y'u're too tender fora genuwine A1 bad man. If I was handing y'u a bunch of advice it wouldbe to get back to the prosaic paths of peace right prompt. And whilewe're on the subject I'll borrow your guns. Y'u're scared stiff and itmight get into your fool coconut to plug one of us and light out. I'dhate to see y'u commit suicide right before us, so I'll just natcherallyunload y'u."
He was talking to lift the strain, and it was for the same purpose thatBannister moved over to Hughie, who sat with his face in his hands,trying to shut out the horror of what he had seen.
The sheepman dropped a hand on his shoulder gently. "Brace up, boy!Don't you see that the very best thing that could have happened is this.It's best for y'u, best for the rest of the gang and best for the wholecattle country. We'll have peace here at last. Now he's gone, honest menare going to breathe easy. I'll take y'u in hand and set y'u at work onone of my stations, if y'u like. Anyhow, you'll have a chance to beginlife again in a better way."
"That's right," agreed the blatant youth. "I'm sick of rustling themails and other folks' calves. I'm glad he got what was coming to him,"he concluded vindictively, with a glance at his dead chief and a suddenraucous oath.
McWilliams's cold blue eye transfixed him "Hadn't you better be a littlecareful how your mouth goes off? For one thing, he's daid now; and foranother, he happens to be Mr. Bannister's cousin."
"But--weren't they enemies?"
"That's how I understand it. But this man's passed over the range. A MANdoesn't unload his hatred on dead folks--and I expect if y'u'll studyhim, even y'u will be able to figure out that my friend measures up tothe size of a real man."
"I don't see why if--"
"No, I don't suppose y'u do," interrupted the foreman, turning on hisheel. Then to Bannister, who was looking down at his cousin with a stonyface: "I reckon, Bann, we better make arrangements to have the bodiesburied right here in the valley," he said gently.
Bannister was thinking of early days, of the time when this miscreant,whose light had just been put out so instantaneously, had played withhim day in and day out. They had attended their first school together,had played marbles and prisoners' base a hundred times against eachother. He could remember how they used to get up early in the morning togo fishing with each other. And later, when each began, unconsciously,to choose the path he would follow in already beginning to settle intoan established fact. He could see now, by looking back on trifles oftheir childhood, that his cousin had been badly handicapped in hisfight with himself against the evil in him. He had inherited depravedinstincts and tastes, and with them somewhere in him a strand ofweakness that prevented him from slaying the giants he had to oppose inthe making of a good character. From bad to worse he had gone, and herehe lay with the drizzling rain on his white face, a warning and a lessonto wayward youths just setting their feet in the wrong direction. Surelyit was kismet.
Ned Bannister untied the handkerchief from his neck and laid it acrossthe face of his kinsman. A moment longer he looked down, then passedhis hands across his eyes and seemed to brush away the memories thatthronged him. He stepped forward to the fire and warmed his hands.
"We'll go on, Mac, to the rendezvous he had appointed with his outfit.We ought to reach there by noon, and the boys can send a wagon back toget the bodies."
CHAPTER 23. JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS' MEETING
It had been six days since the two Ned Bannisters had ridden awaytogether into the mountains, and every waking hour since that time hadbeen for Helen one of harassing anxiety. No word had yet reached her ofthe issue of that dubious undertaking, and she both longed and dreadedto hear. He had promised to send a messenger as soon as he had anythingdefinite to tell, but she knew it would be like his cousin, too, tosend her some triumphant word should he
prove the victor in the strugglebetween them. So that every stranger she glimpsed brought to her asudden beating of the heart.
But it was not the nature of Helen Messiter to sit down and give herselfup a prey to foreboding. Her active nature cried out for work to occupyher and distract her attention. Fortunately this was to be had inabundance just now. For the autumn round-up was on, and since herforeman was away the mistress of the Lazy D found plenty of work readyto her hand.
The meeting place for the round-up riders was at Boom Creek, five milesfrom the ranch, and Helen rode out there to take charge of her owninterests in person. With her were six riders, and for the use of eachof them in addition to his present mount three extra ponies were broughtin the remuda. For the riding is so hard during the round-up that ahorse can stand only one day in four of it. At the appointed rendezvousa score of other cowboys and owners met them. Without any delay theyproceeded to business. Mr. Bob Austin, better known as "Texas," waselected boss of the round-up, and he immediately assigned the men totheir places and announced that they would work Squaw Creek. They movedcamp at once, Helen returning to the ranch.
It was three o'clock in the morning when the men were roused by thecook's triangle calling them to the "chuck wagon" for breakfast. It wasstill cold and dark as the boys crawled from under their blankets andsquatted round the fire to eat jerky, biscuits and gravy, and to drinkcupfuls of hot, black coffee. Before sun rose every man was at his postfar up on the Squaw Creek ridges ready to begin the drive.
Later in the day Helen rode to the parade grounds, toward which astream of cattle was pouring down the canyon of the creek. Every gulchtributary to the creek contributed its quota of wild cows and calves.These came romping down the canyon mouth, where four picked men, with abunch of tame cows in front of them, stopped the rush of flying cattle.Lunch was omitted, and branding began at once. Every calf belonging toa Lazy D cow, after being roped and tied, was flanked with the great Dwhich indicated its ownership by Miss Messiter, and on account of therecumbent position of which letter the ranch had its name.
It was during the branding that a boyish young fellow rode up and handedHelen a note. Her heart pumped rapidly with relief, for one glance toldher that it was in the handwriting of the Ned Bannister she loved. Shetore it open and glanced swiftly through it.
DEAR FRIEND: Two hours ago my cousin was killed by one of his own men.I am sending back to you a boy who had been led astray by him, and itwould be a great service to me if you would give him something to dotill I return. His name is Hugh Rogers. I think if you trust him he willprove worthy of it.
Jim and I are going to stay here a few days longer to finish thework that is begun. We hope to meet and talk with as many of the menimplicated in my cousin's lawlessness as is possible. What the resultwill be I cannot say. We do not consider ourselves in any dangerwhatever, though we are not taking chances. If all goes well we shall beback within a few days.
I hope you are not missing Jim too much at the roundup. Sincerely,
NED BANNISTER
She liked the letter because there was not a hint of the relationshipbetween them to be read in it. He had guarded her against the chance ofits falling into the wrong hands and creating talk about them.
She turned to Hughie. "Can you ride?"
"In a way, ma'am. I can't ride like these men." His glance indicated acow-puncher pounding past after a wild steer that had broken through thecordon of riders and was trying to get away.
"Do you want to learn?"
"I'd like to if I had a chance," he answered wistfully.
"All right. You have your chance. I'll see that Mr. Austin findssomething for you to do. From to-day you are in my employ."
She rode back to the ranch in the late afternoon, while the sun wassetting in a great splash of crimson. The round-up boss had hinted thatif she were nervous about riding alone he could find it convenient toaccompany her. But the girl wanted to be alone with her own thoughts,and she had slipped away while he was busy cutting out calves fromthe herd. It had been a wonderful relief to her to find that HER NedBannister was the one that had survived in the conflict, and her heartsang a paean of joy as she rode into the golden glow of the westeringsun. He was alive--to love and be loved. The unlived years of her futureseemed to unroll before her as a vision. She glowed with a resurgenthappiness that was almost an ecstasy. The words of a bit of verse shehad once seen--a mere scrap from a magazine that had stuck in an obscurecorner of her memory--sang again and again in her heart:
Life and love And a bright sky o'er us, And--God take care Of the waybefore us!
Ah, the way before them, before her and her romance-radiating hero!It might be rough and hilly, but if they trod it together--Her tangledthoughts were off again in another glad leap of imagination.
The days passed somehow. She busied herself with the affairs of theranch, rode out often to the scenes of the cattle drives and watched theround-up, and every twenty-four hours brought her one day nearer tohis return, she told herself. Nora, too, was on the lookout under herlonglashed, roguish eyelids; and the two young women discussed thesubject of their lovers' return in that elusive, elliptical way commonto their sex.
No doubt each of these young women had conjectured as to the manner ofthat homecoming and the meeting that would accompany it; but it is safeto say that neither of them guessed in her day-dreams how it actuallywas to occur.
Nora had been eager to see something of the round-up, and as she was nohorsewoman her mistress took her out one day in her motor. The drivehad been that day on Bronco Mesa, and had finished in the natural corralmade by Bear Canon, fenced with a cordon of riders at the end openingto the plains below. After watching for two hours the busy scenes ofcutting out, roping and branding, Helen wheeled her car and started downthe canyon on their return.
Now, a herd of wild cattle is uncertain as an April day's behavior.Under the influence of the tame valley cattle among which they aredriven, after a little milling around, the whole bunch may gentle almostimmediately, or, on the other hand, it may break through and go crashingaway on a wild stampede at a moment's notice. Every experienced cowmanknows enough to expect the unexpected.
At Bronco Mesa the round-up had proceeded with unusual facility. Scoresof wiry, long-legged steers had drifted down the ridges or gulches thatled to the canon; and many a cow, followed by its calf, had stumbledforward to the herd and apparently accepted the inevitable. But beforeHelen Messiter had well started out of the canyon's mouth the situationchanged absolutely.
A big hill steer, which had not seen a man for a year, broke throughthe human corral with a bellow near a point where Reddy kept guard. Thepuncher wheeled and gave chase, Before the other men could close theopening a couple of two-year-olds seized the opportunity and followedits lead. A second rider gave chase, and at once, as if some imp ofmischief had stirred them, fifty tails went up in wild flight. Anotherminute and the whole herd was in stampede.
Down the gulch the five hundred cattle thundered toward the motor car,which lay directly in their path. Helen turned, appreciated the danger,and put the machine at its full speed. The road branched for a spaceof about fifty yards, and in her excitement she made the mistake ofchoosing the lower, more level, one. Into a deep sand bed they plowed,the wheels sinking at every turn. Slower and slower went the car;finally came to a full stop.
Nora glanced back in affright at the two hundred and fifty tons of beefthat was charging wildly toward them. "What shall we do?" she gasped,and clambered to the ground.
"Run!" cried Helen, following her example and scudding for the sidesof the canyon, which here sloped down less precipitately than at otherpoints. But before they had run a dozen steps each of them was awarethat they could not reach safety in time to escape the hoofs rushingtoward them so heavily that the ground quaked.
"Look out!" A resonant cry rang out above the dull thud of thestampeding cattle that were almost upon them. Down the steep sides ofthe gorge two riders were galloping recklessly. It was a race
for lifebetween them and the first of the herd, and they won by scarce more thana length. Across the sand the horses plowed, and as they swept pastthe two trembling young women each rider bent from the saddle withoutslackening speed, and snatched one almost from under the very hoofs ofthe leaders.
The danger was not past. As the horses swerved and went forward with therush Helen knew that a stumble would fling not only her and the man whohad saved her, but also the horse down to death. They must contriveto hold their own in that deadly rush until a way could be found ofescaping from the path of the living cyclone that trod at their heels,galloped beside them, in front, behind.
For it came to her that the horse was tiring in that rush through thesand with double weight upon its back.
"Courage!" cried the man behind her as her fearful eyes met his.
As he spoke they reached the end of the canyon and firm groundsimultaneously. Helen saw that her rescuer had now a revolver in hishand, and that he was firing in such a way as to deflect the leadersto the left. At first the change in course was hardly perceptible, butpresently she noticed that they were getting closer to the outskirts ofthe herd, working gradually to the extreme right, edging inch by inch,ever so warily, toward safety. Going parallel to their course,running neck and neck with the cow pony, lumbered a great dun steer.Unconsciously it blocked every effort of the horseman to escape. He hadone shot left in his revolver, and this time he did not fire into theair. It was a mighty risk, for the animal in falling might staggeragainst the horse and hunt them all down to death. But the man took itwithout apparent hesitation. Into the ear of the bullock he sent thelead crashing. The brute stumbled and went down head over heels. Itsflying hoofs struck the flanks of the pony, but the bronco stuck to itsfeet, and next moment staggered out from among the herd stragglers andcame to halt.
The man slid from its back and lifted down the half-fainting girl. Sheclung to him, white a trembling. "Oh, it was horrible, Ned!" She couldstill look down in imagination upon the sea of dun backs that swayed andsurged about them like storm-tossed waves.
"It was a near thing, but we made it, girl. So did Jim. He got outbefore we did. It's all past now. You can remember it as the mostexciting experience of your life."
She shuddered. "I don't want to remember it at all." And so shaken wasshe that she did not realize that his arm was about her the while shesobbed on his shoulder.
"A cattle stampede is a nasty thing to get in front of. Never mind. It'sdone with now and everybody's safe."
She drew a long breath. "Yes, everybody's safe and you are back home.Why didn't you come after your cousin was killed?"
"I had to finish my work."
"And DID you finish it?"
"I think we did. There will be no more Shoshone gang. It's members havescatted in all directions."
"I'm glad you stayed, then. We can live at peace now." And presently sheadded: "I knew you would not come back until you had done what you setout to do. You're very obstinate, sir. Do you know that?"
"Perseverance, I call it," he smiled, glad to see that she wasrecovering her lightness of tone.
"You don't always insist on putting your actions in the most favorablelight. Do you remember the first day I ever saw you?"
"Am I likely ever to forget it?" he smiled fondly.
"I didn't mean THAT. What I was getting at was that you let me go awayfrom you thinking you were 'the king.' I haven't forgiven you entirelyfor that."
"I expect y'u'll always have to be forgiving me things."
"If you valued my good opinion I don't see how you could let me gowithout telling me. Was it fair or kind?"
"If y'u come to that, was it so fair and kind to convict me so promptlyon suspicion?" he retaliated with a smile.
"No, it wasn't. But--" She flushed with a divine shyness. "But I lovedyou all the time, even when they said you were a villain."
"Even while y'u believed me one?"
"I didn't. I never would believe you one--not deep in my heart. Iwouldn't let myself. I made excuses for you--explained everything tomyself."
"Yet your reason told y'u I was guilty."
"Yes, I think my mind hated you and my heart loved you."
He adored her for the frank simplicity of her confession, that out ofthe greatness of her love she dared to make no secret of it to him.Direct as a boy, she was yet as wholly sweet as the most retiring girlcould be.
"Y'u always swamp my vocabulary, sweetheart. I can't ever tell y'u--lifewouldn't be long enough--how much I care for you."
"I'm glad," she said simply.
They stood looking at each other, palms pressed to palms in meetinghands, supremely happy in this miracle of love that had befallen them.They were alone--for Nora and Jim had gone into temporary eclipse behinda hill and seemed in no hurry to emerge--alone in the sunshine with thiswonder that flowed from one to another by shining eyes, by finger touch,and then by meeting lips. He held her close, knew the sweet delight ofcontact with the supple, surrendered figure, then released her as shedrew away in maidenly reserve.
"When shall we be married, Helen? Is the early part of next week toolate?" he asked.
Still blushing, she straightened her hat. "That's ridiculous, sir. Ihaven't got used to the thought of you yet."
"Plenty of time for that afterward. Then we'll say next week if thatsuits y'u."
"But it doesn't. Don't you know that it is the lady's privilege to namethe day? Besides, I want time to change my mind if I should decide to."
"That's what I'm afraid of," he laughed joyfully. "So I have to insiston an early marriage."
"Insist?" she demurred.
"I've been told on the best of authority that I'm very obstinate," hegayly answered.
"I have a mind of my own myself. If I ever marry you be sure I shallname the day, sir."
"Will y'u marry me the day Nora does Jim?"
"We'll see." The eyes slanted at him under the curved lashes, teased himdelightfully. "Did Nora tell you she was going to marry Jim?"
Bannister looked mildly hurt. "My common sense has been telling it to mea month."
"How long has your common sense been telling you about us?"
"I didn't use it when I fell in love with y'u," he boldly laughed.
"Of all things to say!"
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