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Updated: June 21, 2025
What's the matter with this Julian Marbolt?" He looked round for an answer, which, for some minutes, did not seem to be forthcoming. Slum broke the silence at last. "He's blind," he said quietly. "I know that," retorted Tresler, impatiently. "It's something else I want to know." He looked at the butcher, who only laughed. He turned on the saloon-keeper, who shook his head.
One look at the terrific ascent, however, left him no choice. "Go on, and I'll drop you, Julian Marbolt!" he shouted. "I've five chambers loaded in each gun." For response, the blind man increased his exertions. On he went, up, up, till it made the man below dizzy to watch him.
But the smile died out when he remembered he, himself, had yet to face the rancher on the delicate subject of his daughter. He remembered only too well Jake's reference to a cyclone, and he made his way to the bunkhouse with no very enlivening thoughts. In the meantime the two men he had just left remained silent until the sound of his footsteps had quite died out. Then Marbolt spoke.
"You've never given me an option, and I'm not goin' to be such a blazing fool as to give you one. God A'mighty, Marbolt, ther' never was a man treated as I've been by you. We've been together fer donkey's years, I guess.
"Blind mule," put in Slum, vaulting to a seat on the bar. "Mule?" questioned Shaky, with profound scorn. "Guess you ain't worked around his layout, Slum. Skunk's my notion of him. I 'lows his kickin's most like a mule's, but ther' ain't nothin' more to the likeness. A mule's a hard-workin', decent cit'zen, which ain't off'n said o' Julian Marbolt."
Now we'll quietly go up to the stable. Maybe you can tell if a horse has been recently saddled, even after grooming?" "Yes." "Then I'll show you. An' mind, Marbolt hasn't ordered one of his private horses out. Nor ain't Miss Diane. It's Anton." He rose and prepared to depart, but Tresler stayed him. "One moment, Jake," he said.
When he got back from his ride into the foot-hills, the "broncho-busting" carnival was in full swing; but he was fated to have no share in it. Jacob Smith was waiting for him with a message from Julian Marbolt; his orders were peremptory. He was to leave at once for Whitewater, to make preparations for the reception of the young horses now being broken for the troops.
It ain't a question of 'by-your-leave' now. I say right here I want your gal." The man paused. But Marbolt remained undisturbed. He still beat an idle tattoo on the table, only his hand had drawn nearer to the lamp and the steady rapping of his fingers was a shade louder, as though more nervous force were unconsciously finding outlet in the movement.
"Why, Danny," he cried, pressing her to him, "I never felt so happy over anything in my life as the fact that Julian Marbolt is not your father." "But the shame of it!" cried the girl, imagining that her lover had not fully understood. "Shame? Shame?" he cried, holding her still tighter in his arms. "Never let me hear that word on your lips again.
Marbolt ain't easy that way. You'll be sorry you fetched him from his bed, or I don't know him." Archie made no reply. Nor was any more talk possible, for at that moment there came the steady tap, tap, of the blind man's stick down the passage, and the two men faced the door expectantly. The rancher shuffled out on to the verandah. Diane was at his side, and led him straight over to young Orr.
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