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Updated: June 17, 2025
A touch of the spur made Sol lunge forward to head off the raider. Diablo was in his stride, but the distance and angle favored Sol. The raider had no carbine. He held aloft a gun ready to level it and fire. He sat the saddle as if it were a stationary seat. Gale saw Ladd lean down and drop the .405 in the sand. He would take no chances of wounding Belding's best-loved horse.
Ladd was supporting a horseman who wore a military uniform. Gale shouted with joy and ran into the house to tell the good news. It was the ever-thoughtful Mrs. Belding who prevented him from rushing in to tell Mercedes. Then he hurried out into the yard, closely followed by the Beldings. Lash handed down a ragged, travel-stained, wan girl into Belding's arms. "Dad! Mama!"
He stood blocking up the window, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, staring at the vacant lot across the street. Dinner that night cost Belding much searching of soul. "There'll be three more," Clark had said, and forgotten all about it, but when the Philadelphians sat down Belding's heart sank.
It was the first time in his life that the sound of falling water jarred upon him. Belding noticed workmen once more engaged in the fields bounding his land. The Chases had extended a main irrigation ditch down to Belding's farm, skipped the width of his ground, then had gone on down through Altar Valley.
"He's a ranger now riding, fighting, sleeping on the sand, preparing his own food?" "Well, I should smile," rejoined Belding. "He cares for his horse, with his own hands?" This query seemed to be the climax of Mr. Gale's strange hunger for truth. He had raised his head a little higher, and his eye was brighter. Mention of a horse fired Belding's blood. "Does Dick Gale care for his horse?
It seems as if the American workman can never properly invoke the spirit of liberty without a pocketful of this democratic nut. As he drew near his house, Farnham caught a glimpse of light drapery upon Mrs. Belding's piazza, and went over to relieve her from anxiety by telling her the news of the day. When he had got half way across the lawn, he saw Alice rise from beside her mother as if to go.
Belding's clock the big chronometer in the show window as we came out of the store that Saturday evening. It was just nine o'clock when we stood there and saw Mr. Nemo of Nowhere run down by the car. Anybody driving that car could have made the railroad station just about in time for the ten minutes' past nine express the Cannon Ball, don't they call it?" "That is the train," admitted Laura.
Then, remembering Belding's suggestion, he decided to profit by it. "May I trouble you to write another for me?" asked Dick, as he received the letter from Nell. "It's no trouble, I'm sure I'd be pleased," she replied. That was altogether a wonderful speech of hers, Dick thought, because the words were the first coherent ones she had spoken to him. "May I stay?" asked Mercedes, smiling.
Belding cast a strange, intent glance upon Nell, then turn and go silently through the patio. Dick concluded his talk, but the brilliant beginning was not sustained. Dick was haunted by the strange expression he had caught on Mrs. Belding's face, especially the look in her eyes. It had been one of repressed pain liberated in a flash of certainty.
It was evident, they said, that Farnham had a considerable police force with him to protect his property; it was useless to waste any more time there; let the rest stay there and occupy the police; they could have more fun and more profit in some of the good houses in the neighborhood. "Yes," one suggested, "Jairus Belding's widder lives just a step off. Lots o' silver and things. Less go there."
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