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Updated: May 31, 2025
Huge hills, shouldering together, left at times only wagon-track room between; at other places they skirted dangerous cutbanks worn by spring freshets, and again trekked for long distances over gently curving uplands. In an hour the horses were showing the strain of it, and Linder halted them for a momentary rest. It was at that moment that Drazk rode up, his face a study in obvious annoyance.
Even in his anger Y.D. took approving note of the promptness of Transley's decisions and the zest with which his men carried them into effect. "A he-man, that fellow, Zen," he confided to his daughter, "If he'd blowed into this country thirty years ago, like I did, he'd own it by this time plumb to the sky-line." When the list of repairs was completed Linder handed it to Drazk.
And if the end would win the approval of Y.D. and of Y.D.'s daughter then any means was justified. Had not Linder said, "Burn the grass on the road?" Drazk knew well enough that Linder's remark was a figure of speech, but his eccentric mind found no trouble in converting it into literal instructions. Drazk sniffed the air and looked at the sun.
"Help me help me " she murmured. With a quick little impetuous motion she drew it on to the finger where it belonged. There she gazed upon it for a moment, as though fascinated by it. Then she fell upon her bed and lay motionless until long after the valley was wrapped in shadow. The events of these days had almost driven from Zen's mind the tragedy of George Drazk.
"A sort of chestnut, about sixteen hands high, and with the look of a thoroughbred," he afterwards described her to Linder. She turned at the sound of his footsteps, and Drazk instantly summoned a smirk which set his homely face beaming with good humor. "Pardon me, ma'am," he said, with an elaborate bow. "I am Mr. Drazk Mr. George Drazk Mr. Transley's assistant. No doubt he spoke of me."
There was something strangely modest in Drazk's manner. "Had yours handed to you already?" Linder managed to banter in a low voice as they swung through the gate. "Hell!" protested Mr. Drazk. "A fellow that ain't a boss or a foreman don't get a look-in. Never even seen her.... Come, you Pete-horse!" It was evident George had gone back to his first love.
"If you had been a cow puncher instead of a contractor," she told him, "I'm sure you would long ago have ended your life in some dash over a cutbank." Meanwhile Drazk pursued his way to town.
Drazk stepped his horse up a few feet to facilitate conversation. "I alus take an interest in innercent gals away from home, so I kinda kep' my angel eye on you las' night. An' I see Linder stalkin' aroun' here an' sighin' out over the water when he should 'ave been in bed. But, of course, he's been interduced."
"Beat it to town on that Pete-horse of yours, George," he said. "Burn the grass on the road." "I bet I'll be ten miles on the road back when I meet my shadow goin'," said Drazk, making a spectacular leap into his saddle. "Bye, Y.D!; bye, Zen!" he shouted while he whirled his horse's head eastward and waved his hand to where they stood.
The color went from her face and she leaned low over her plate to conceal her agitation. "Yep," continued Y.D., with no more concern than if a steer had been lost from the herd. "Transley said to tell you Drazk had disappeared an' he reckoned you wouldn't be bothered any more with him." "Drazk was nothing to me," she managed to say. "How can you think he was?"
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