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Updated: May 12, 2025
Falkner's remark on his way back to the post-office. Peter was sitting on the doorstep with Sister. The mail had been distributed and most of Lost Chief had come and gone. "That horse is tired, Doug," said Peter. "What have you been doing? Running him to break him?" "Aw, he's all right," protested Douglas. "Don't climb a tree about him, Peter. I want to talk to you. Make Sister move over."
He took an almost boyish pleasure in these one-sided entertainments and yet, after all, they were not entirely one-sided, for the mouse would keep its bright, serious-looking little eyes on Falkner's face; it seemed to understand, if it could not talk.
From the door he looked back at Falkner, and his face was not like a man's, but like that of some terrible death-spirit, ghostly, and thin, and exultant in the dim glow of the lamp. As he opened the door the roar of the blizzard and a gust of snow filled the cabin. Then it closed, and a groaning curse fell from Falkner's lips.
Falkner's powerful arms had gripped his head and throat in a vise-like clutch from which no smother of sound escaped, and three or four minutes later, when the second man came through the door, he found his comrade flat on his back, bound and gagged, and the shining muzzles of two short and murderous-looking revolvers leveled at his breast.
Encouraged by Falkner's grave and practical assistance, which she could not ignore, Kate ventured to make an examination of Lee's wound. Even to her unpractised eye it was less serious than at first appeared. The great loss of blood had been due to the laceration of certain small vessels below the knee, but neither artery nor bone was injured.
"But they pay fair salaries, and any woman would rather be pinched and have her husband in the front ranks " And then she hesitated, something in Falkner's eyes troubling her. "I shall not decide just yet.... The offer has stirred my blood, I feel that I have some youth left!" They said little more. Margaret walked with him down the avenue.
It gives no hint of the awful splendor of Dead Line and Falkner's Peaks, all blue and bronze and crimson, backed by myriads of other peaks, pure white, against the perfect sky. It does not picture the brilliant yellow canyon wall which thrust Lost Chief Range back from the valley, nor the peacock blue sides of the Indian Range, clothed in wonder by the Forest Reserve.
So, sedately, in the glory of the sun bursting over the top of the Indian range, they trotted up to Falkner's cabin. Charleton burst out of the door. "Where in the blank-blank have you been? Hurry, Grandma! I've been nearly crazy!" "I'll bet your wife ain't crazy." Grandma dismounted with Doug's help. "Now, Douglas, you keep this lunatic outside, no matter what he says or does.
"Of course it can't be proved yet, but there's no doubt in my mind that Lee, who is an old friend of Ned Falkner's, got up that job to help him, and that Ned's off with the money by this time and I'm right glad of it. I can't say ez we've done much towards it, except to keep tumbling in the way of that detective party of Stanner's, and so throw them off the trail ha, ha!
But Lawler had refused, because previously to their visits he had given his word to York Falkner. And he had championed Falkner's candidacy with such energy and enthusiasm that in the end on the day of the convention his name was better known than that of his candidate. And at the last minute the convention was in danger of stampeding to him, threatening to nominate him despite his protests.
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