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Updated: May 23, 2025
Wetherford marvelled over the evident culture and refinement of the ranger. "He's none too good for her, no matter who he is," he said. Upon leaving timber-line they entered upon a wide and sterile slope high on the rocky breast of the great peak, whose splintered crest lorded the range. Snow-fields lay all about, and a few hundred feet higher up the canons were filled with ice.
Redfield's voice was cuttingly contemptuous as he said quite calmly: "You're all kinds of asses, you sheepmen. You ought to pay the fee for your cattle with secret joy. Mrs. Wetherford is right: we've all been educated in a bad school. Uncle Sam has been too bloomin' lazy to keep any supervision over his public lands.
"Furthermore, I am concealing a criminal, cloaking a convict, when I should be arresting him," he pursued, referring back to Wetherford. "And why? Because of a girl's romantic notion of her father, a notion which can be preserved only by keeping his secret, by aiding him to escape." And even this motive, he was obliged to confess, had not all been on the highest plane.
That noise disturbs the dago, and I don't like it myself; they sound lonesome and helpless. That dog took 'em away for a while, but brought 'em back again; poor devil, he don't know what to think of it all." Ross did as Wetherford commanded him to do, and withdrew a little way down the slope; and without putting up his tent, rolled himself in his blankets and went to sleep.
All these things Wetherford did, and leaving the camp in ashes behind him, Cavanagh drove the sheep before him on his homeward way. As night fell, the dog, at his command, rounded them up and put them to bed, and the men went on down the valley, leaving the brave brute on guard, pathetic figure of faithful guardianship.
There was no longer any feeling of reaching up or reaching down between the two men they were equals. Wetherford, altogether admirable, seemed to have regained his manhood as he stood in the door of the tent confronting the ranger. "This Basque ain't much of a find, but, as you say, he's human, and we can't let him lie here and die, I'll stay with him till you can find a doctor or till he dies."
I'm what the boys call an old battle-axe. I've been through the whole war. I'm able to feed myself and pay your board besides. Just you find some decent boarding-place in Sulphur, and I'll see that you have ten dollars a week to live on, just because you're a Wetherford." "But I'm your daughter!" Again Eliza fixed a musing look upon her.
She sure looks the queen to me." Cavanagh did not greatly relish this line of conversation, but the pause enabled him to say: "Miss Wetherford is not much Western; she got her training in the East. She's been with an aunt ever since her father's death." "He's dead, is he?" "So far as anybody knows, he is." "Well, he's no loss. I knew him, too.
Wetherford followed her daughter back into the lodging-house. "Mother," the girl began, facing her and speaking firmly, "you must go to Sulphur City and see a doctor. I'll stay here and look after the business." Mrs. Wetherford perceived in her daughter's attitude and voice something decisive and powerful. She sank into a chair, and regarded her with intent gaze.
She was in an anguish of fear lest Ross should already be in the grip of his loathsome enemy. That it had come to him by way of a brave and noble act only made the situation the more tragic. Cavanagh had kept a keen watch over Wetherford, and when one night the old man began to complain of the ache in his bones his decision was instant. "You've got it," he said.
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