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He's tried to steal all our land; he's corrupted our court, nearly guzzled Judge Lindman to death, killed Braman an' Barkwell says the bunch of pluguglies he hired to pose as deputies, has killed Clay Levins an' four or five of the Diamond K men. That's plenty. We'd admire to give in to you. We'll do anything else you say. But this has got to be done."
"Correct!" agreed Barkwell; "she's a-goin' the way Rome went an Babylone an' Cincinnati after I left. She runs to a pussy-cafe aristocracy an' napkins." "She'll be plumb ruined follerin' them foreign styles. The Uhmerican people ain't got no right to adopt none of them new-fangled notions." Weaver stared glumly into the darkening plains. They aired their discontent long.
At some time after midnight the entire outfit was grouped near Clay Levins' house. They held a short conference, and then Barkwell rode forward and hammered on the door of the cabin. "We're wantin' Clay, ma'am," said Barkwell in answer to the scared inquiry that filtered through the closed door. "It's the Diamond K outfit." "What do you want him for?"
His sharp exclamation brought Barkwell leaping to his side, and they both watched in perplexity a faint glow in the sky in the direction of the town. It died down as they watched. "Fire looks like," Weaver growled. "We're always too late to horn in on any excitement." "Uh, huh," grunted Barkwell. He was staring intently at the plains, faintly discernable in the starlight.
It was only at dawn that Barkwell, the foreman who had escorted Rosalind, had appeared at the cut on his way to town, and discovered him, and then the foreman's plans were changed and he was dispatched to the Diamond K for reinforcements.
They watched, with grim pouts on their lips, until the men vanished in the star haze of the plains. Then Barkwell spoke, raucously: "Well, we've broke in the game, Jud. We're Simon-pure outlaws like our boss. I got one of them scum I seen him grab leather. We'll all get in, now. They're after our boss, eh? Well, damn 'em, we'll show 'em! They's eight of the boys on the south fork.
He had read some of them his business or not and he had imagined he had seen what had fired his blood a reciprocal affection. He would not have declared himself, otherwise. He went to sleep, thinking of her. He awoke about noon, to see Barkwell standing at his side, shaking him. "Have you got any understandin' with that railroad gang that they're to do any minin' on the Diamond K range?" "No."
In her room at the Castle sat a woman who was finding the world very empty. It held nothing for her except the sad consolation of repentance. "The boss is sure a she-wolf at playin' a lone hand," growled Barkwell, shortly after dusk, to Jud Weaver, the straw boss. "Seems he thinks his friends is delicate ornaments which any use would bust to smithereens.
"It's Clay Levins, boys!" said Barkwell. "They've plugged him! Do you reckon we've got to go back to Levins' shack an' tell his wife that we let them skunks get away after makin' orphants of her kids?" "I'm jumpin'!" shrieked Jud Weaver, his voice coming chokingly with passion. "I ain't waitin' one damned minute for any palaver! Either them deputies is wiped out, or I am!"
They were coming fast, racing ahead of a dust cloud, and were perhaps a quarter of a mile distant. But Trevison knew them, and stepped boldly out to the edge of the stone ledge waving his hat to them, laughing full-throatedly, his voice vibrating a little as he spoke: "Good old Barkwell!" "That's him!"
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