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It might be with Austin, or the post-office clerk, or a young, sleek-haired rancher, or a miner shining from soap and water; it mattered not to Manzanita, if he could but dance. And when she and Mrs.
Seaforth had once or twice admired the girl's serenity in somewhat difficult surroundings, but there was now a suggestion of fear in her eyes, and she seemed to avoid Alton's gaze. It, however, passed in a moment, and she turned towards the rancher tranquilly. "I wonder how far I am to blame," she said. "A man came here a day or two ago, and apparently endeavoured to tell me something.
Corliss and Wingle turned from looking at Sundown and gazed at each other. "If that's right " And the rancher hesitated. "I reckon it's right," said Wingle. And he stooped and together they lifted the body and laid it across the cowboy's horse. Sundown watched them with burning eyes. "We'll ride back home," said Corliss, motioning to him. "Home? Ain't you goin' to do nothin'?"
The rancher, busy running up totals on the pay-roll, glanced at the sweat-stained piece of paper. He read it and pushed it from him. "All right, Hi." Wingle hesitated, then stepped out and over to the bunk-house. "Takes it mighty cool! Wonder what he's got up his sleeve. Somethin' sure!" Corliss studied the note. Then he reached for paper and envelopes and wrote busily.
"Wade, wasn't you takin' a lot on yourself?" queried the rancher, plainly displeased. "Reckon I was. But my conscience is beholden to no man. If Jack had met me half-way that would have been better for him. An' for me, because I get good out of helpin' any one." His reply silenced Belllounds. No more was said before supper was announced, and then the rancher seemed taciturn.
The barrel of it was jammed against the head of the man above him while the rancher freed himself from the weight of the body. Slowly the cattleman got to his feet. Vaguely he had been aware already that men were running toward the tree clump. Now he heard the padding of their feet close at hand.
I saw enough to satisfy me to a moral certainty, but nothin' for a sheriff; and, of course, we couldn't go shoot up a peaceful rancher on mere suspicion. Finally, one day, we run on a four-months' calf all by himself, with the T 0 iron onto him a mighty healthy lookin' calf, too. "Wonder where HIS mother is!" says I.
The quiet monosyllable brought the rancher down to earth. He looked round at his companion with an inquiring glance. "Eh?" But Jim Thorpe had no further comment to offer. The two were sitting in the foreman's cabin, a small but roughly comfortable split-log hut, where elegance and tidiness had place only in the more delicate moments of its occupant's retrospective imagination.
Jest buyin' an' sellin', they claimed.... I reckon the extra hoss tracks we run across at Gore Peak connects up them buyers an' sellers with whoever drove Belllounds's cattle up thar.... Have you anythin' more to say?" "No. Not here," replied Moore, quietly. "Then I'll have to arrest you an' take you to Kremmlin' fer trial." "All right. I'll go." The old rancher seemed genuinely shocked.
Then I shall be a real rancher and something is going to happen!" "The trail!" exclaimed Firio, and the soft light in his eyes flashed. "Sí! The trail and the big spurs and the revolver in the holster!" "No!" But Firio said "Sí"! with the supreme confidence of one who holds that belief in fulfilment will make any wish come true.
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