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Winston slowly straightened himself, and the girl noticed the damp the struggle had brought there on his forehead, for he understood that if he would stretch out his hand and take it what he longed for might be his. "I do not know, any more than I know where it came from, for until I met Courthorne I had never made a big venture in my life," he said.
"The assurance of the guileless is astonishing and occasionally hard to bear," said Courthorne. "Why not reverse the position?" Winston's gaze was steady, and free from embarrassment. "I am," he said, "waiting for your offer." "Then," said Courthorne dryly, "here it is.
Barrington's face grew a trifle grim as he nodded. "There is, and while I have not much expectation of an advance in prices, I have been worrying over another affair lately." His niece regarded him steadily. "You mean Lance Courthorne?" "Yes," said Barrington, who flicked the near horse somewhat viciously with the whip.
You will, as authorized by it, pay to Courthorne the sum due to him, and with your consent, which you have power to withhold, I purpose taking one thousand dollars only of the balance that remains to me. I have it here now, and in the meanwhile surrender it to you. Of the rest, you will make whatever use that appears desirable for the general benefit of Silverdale.
The sergeant went out, and when the beat of hoofs sank into the silence of the prairie, Winston called Courthorne in. "I have offered you no refreshment, but the best in the house is at your service," he said. Courthorne looked at him curiously, and for the first time Winston noticed that the life he had led was telling upon his companion. "As your guest?" he asked. "Yes," said Winston.
Supper was cooking when Lance Courthorne sat beside the glowing stove in the comfortless general room of a little wooden hotel in a desolate settlement of Montana. He had a good many acquaintances in the straggling town, where he now and then ran a faro game, though it was some months since he had last been there, and he had ridden a long way to reach it that day.
It was as certain that she had recognized him, which was, however, by no means astonishing, and this promised another complication, for he was commencing to realize that since Winston had gone to Silverdale it would be convenient that Courthorne as such should cease to exist.
Courthorne yawned again openly and took from his pocket a letter that he had received the day before at another little town to which, in accordance with directions given, it had been forwarded him. It was from one of his whisky-running comrades and had somewhat puzzled him. "There's about one hundred dollars due you, and we're willing to pay up," it ran.
Here's a list of the bequests." He stopped a moment, and with another glance at it handed Courthorne the paper. "I notice your own name among them, and it's not a common one." Courthorne stretched out his hand for the paper, and his face became intent as he read: "It is with regret many of our readers will hear of the death of Mr.
I don't quite know how I made the journey, and during a good deal of it I couldn't see the prairie, but I knew you would feel there was an obligation on you to do something for me. Of course, I could put it differently." Winston had as little liking for Courthorne as he had ever had, but he remembered the time when he had lain very sick in his lonely log hut.
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