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The bead-sight described a blurred curve round the bear. Yet he shot in vain again in vain. Above the bleat of sheep and trample of many hoofs rang out Mescal's cry, despairing. She had turned, her hands over her breast. Wolf spread his legs before her and crouched to spring, mane erect, jaws wide. By some lightning flash of memory, August Naab's words steadied Jack's shaken nerves.
The work was hard, and the girls would rather have been in White Sage or Lund. They disliked Mescal, and said things inspired by jealousy. Snap Naab's wife was vindictive, and called Mescal "that Indian!" It struck him on hearing this gossip that he had missed Mescal. What had become of her? Curiosity prompting him, he asked little Billy about her. "Mescal's with the sheep," piped Billy.
Snap Naab's gloom, his long stride, his nervous hand always on or near the butt of his Colt, spoke the keenness of his desert instinct. For him the sun had arisen red over the red wall. Had he harmed Mescal? Why did he keep the cabin door shut and guard it so closely? While Hare watched and thought the hours sped by. Holderness lounged about and Snap kept silent guard.
Under the table-cover Mescal's hand found his, and pressed it daringly and gladly. Her hand lingered in his all the time August Naab spent in carving the turkey lingered there even though Snap Naab's hawk eyes were never far away. In the warm touch of her hand, in some subtle thing that radiated from her Hare felt a change in the girl he loved.
He remembered August Naab's magnificent gesture of despair; and now the man was cheerful again; he showed no sign of his great loss. His tasks were many, and when one was done, he went on to the next. If Hare had not had many proofs of this Mormon's feeling he would have thought him callous.
Eschtah pressed into Naab's service a band of young braves, under the guidance of several warriors who knew every trail of the range, every waterhole, every cranny where even a wolf might hide. They swept the river-end of the plateau, and working westward, scoured the levels, ridges, valleys, climbed to the peaks, and sent their Indian dogs into the thickets and caves.
"I'm still master here," he said, and his voice showed the conquest of his passions. "I give up Silver Cup and my stock. Maybe that will content Holderness." Some days went by pleasantly for Hare, as he rested from his long exertions. Naab's former cheer and that of his family reasserted itself once the decision was made, and the daily life went on as usual.
But Holderness is creeping slowly on you. He'll ignore your water rights and drive your stock. Soon Dene will steal cattle under your very eyes. Don't make them enemies." "I can't pass by this helpless man," rolled out August Naab's sonorous voice. Suddenly, with livid face and shaking hand, Cole pointed westward. "There! Dene and his band!
The women of the oasis met them with gloomy faces presaging bad news, and they were reluctant to tell it. Mescal's flight had been forgotten in the sterner and sadder misfortune that had followed. Snap Naab's wife lay dangerously ill, the victim of his drunken frenzy.
The force of August Naab's argument for peace, entirely aside from his Christian repugnance to the shedding of blood, was plainly unassailable. "Remember what Snap said?" asked Hare, suddenly. "One man to kill Dene! Therefore one man to kill Holderness! That would break the power of this band." "Ah! you've said it," replied Dave, raising a tense arm. "It's a one-man job. D n Snap!
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