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But the main fact, that Randerson had killed another man in his outfit, found its way to Ruth's ears through the medium of a roaming puncher who had stopped for an hour at the ranchhouse.
He kicked back his blankets and rose stiffly. The luxury of his yawn was stifled as he saw below him the ranchhouse with some strange kind of a sign above its gate. "If that's the hotel," he said as he corded his blankets, "she don't look much bigger than me own. But distances is mighty deceivin' in this here open-face country."
"I'm obliged to you," he mumbled. That had ended it. The following morning Linton came to Harlan for orders, and a little later the entire outfit, headed by Stroud, and trailed by the chuck-wagon and the horses of the remuda, started southward to a distant section of the big level, leaving Linton and Harlan at the ranchhouse.
Then he returned to the buckboard, to find the others waiting for him. In a strained silence he climbed up to the seat beside Ruth, took up the reins, and sent the blacks forward. It was ten miles to the Flying W ranchhouse, and during the ride the silence was broken only once. That was when, at about the fifth mile, Ruth placed a hand on Masten's arm and smiled at him. "I really think Mr.
"Wait, Willard," she said, "until after the fall round-up. There is no hurry. We are sure of each other." They went on toward the ranchhouse. When they passed the bunkhouse, and through the open door saw Randerson and Uncle Jepson sitting on a bench smoking, Ruth quickened her step, and Masten made a grimace of hatred.
At about the time that the storm had overtaken Hollis, Potter was unsaddling his pony at the Circle Bar corral gate. A little later he was on the wide lower gallery of the ranchhouse washing the stains of travel from his face and hands. At supper he was taciturn, his face deeply thoughtful. Had Ten Spot come? What had been the outcome of the meeting?
He poured it half full of water from a pail that sat on the porch floor, and washed his hands and face, noting, while engaged in his task, a clean towel hanging from a roller on the wall of the ranchhouse. While drying his face he heard voices from within, subdued, anxious. Completing his ablutions he stepped to the screen door, threw it open and stood on the threshold.
He watched while Linton rode eastward over the big level; then he grinned and walked to the ranchhouse, going around the front and standing in the wide gateway where he saw Barbara sitting on a bench in the patio, staring straight ahead, meditatively, unaware that he was standing in the gateway, watching her. Harlan watched the girl for a long time until she turned and saw him.
Scornfully she told herself that this pretence at ranching was one of the many adventures dotted along his career; one act in the melodrama of which he delighted to be the leading actor. His own love of luxury and charming surroundings was enough to account for the improvements he hastened to make at the ranchhouse. Anxiously she put away the thought that all he did was for her.
The moonlight threw a mellow glare upon the porch of the ranchhouse near the kitchen door. It bathed in its effulgent flood two figures, the boss and the master, who were sitting close together very close together on the porch. The two figures came into instant focus in Dade's vision. He stepped back with a amused growl and gave place to Malcolm, who also looked.
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