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Updated: June 12, 2025
He tightened the saddle-girths and ran a finger along the head straps of the bridle of the horse picked to judge their fit, receiving a snap from the pony's teeth, which gave him satisfaction. Not only was this animal a wiry, tough-looking little beast, but he had life. Up into the saddle Weir went, followed Sorenson's line to the lane, down which he swung.
Revolting as it was to Janet to put so fair a face on Ed Sorenson's conduct, nevertheless she had braced herself to go through with the part and presented to the cattleman a clear, natural countenance. The very simplicity of her story, its directness, its accord with the facts as he knew them, carried conviction.
That big figure could only be Sorenson's, for no Mexican he had ever seen in San Mateo could match it. And the plan of escape showed the other's craft in an emergency; gradually working his way through the crowd he had at last gained the protective shadow of the building on that side of the street and slipped along in it until he reached the horses.
To-morrow, or the first time she found herself in Ed Sorenson's reassuring presence, she might consider that her brain had been upset by events of this night, jiggled awry in a sort of moonlight madness, and her apprehensions as to happiness unfounded shadows. Well, Weir would strike later. He turned into the main street.
Only at moments when his restraint slipped could she measure his feelings. Quite different that from Ed Sorenson's voluble, heated denunciations of the other. Yet, heavens, how appalled this reserved man had been at hearing of her engagement!
Bah, you slimy reptile, you belong in a cess-pool!" Under Steele Weir's biting speech Sorenson's face went red and pale by turns. His lips twitched and worked, moving his mustache in little angry lifts, while he breathed with short spasmodic intakes. "First, you're after Mexican girls," Weir went on mercilessly. "Then Mary Johnson, whom I pulled out of your vile fingers.
Sorenson caught a glimpse of the car whirling through town, with Weir at the wheel, who with Pollock accompanied the departing men that certain unsettled points might be discussed up to the last moment. As Weir and Pollock were returning, the latter eyed the engineer and laughed. "You've evidently brushed these fellows', Sorenson's and Gordon's, fur the wrong way to please them.
On a certain afternoon Felipe Martinez, the lean and restless attorney who had acted as the Mexican workmen's mouthpiece, observed through the broad plate-glass window of the San Mateo Cattle Company's office an incident that greatly interested him. For the moment he forgot the resentment kindled by Sorenson's abrupt refusal and brutal words when he asked for the nomination for county attorney.
It is so, the truth; the engineer saved her. And are there not men among you" his voice gained a savage, rasping note "whose girls have been betrayed by the cattle-stealing Sorenson's son?" "Where is he where is he now?" some one shouted, angrily. It might have been a father who stood in Naharo's case. "He lies crippled," Weir stated.
Each noted that the foresail hid the face of Madame Sorenson, although her shoulders were expressive.... The look upon Sorenson's flushed features held Miss Mallory true to her latest inspiration. "You are a good swimmer?" she asked in a lowered tone, but carelessly. "Ah, yes, there are many grand swimmers in my country among the coast men." "You must have been on shipboard a great deal, Mr.
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