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Neither she nor Taggart would dare make off with the money and the idol as long as he was at the ranch, for they would fear his vengeance. He thought his manner had already forced Betty to give him his father's letters and admit the existence of the idol she had been afraid to lie to him about them.
This in spite of his knowledge of her secret meeting with Neal Taggart. To be sure, so far as his actions were concerned, he was the Calumet of old, a man of violent temper and vicious impulses, but there were growing governors that were continually slowing his passions, strange, new thoughts that were thrusting themselves insistently before him.
Approaching from another direction, Shannon was first to draw Taggart's file. Taggart was lying hidden in the brush; Shannon standing out in the open. Shot after shot they exchanged, until presently a ball struck the earth in front of Taggart's face and filled his eyes full of gravel and sand.
Quickly Calumet placed both hands on the young man's shoulders and shoved him back against the bar, thrusting his own body between him and Taggart. "Easy there," he warned in a whisper. "He's my meat." Dade caught the mirthless smile on his lips and looked at him curiously, his attitude still belligerent. "He's talkin' about Betty, the damned skunk!" he objected.
He led the Taggart horses out, took them to the bend in the trail, and turned them loose, for he anticipated that the Taggarts would make a complaint to the sheriff about them, and if they were found in the Lazy Y corral trouble would be sure to result. He watched them until they were well on their way toward the Arrow, and then he returned to the ranchhouse and went to bed.
Undoubtedly she and Taggart had expected to wait the year specified in the will, certain that he would not appear to claim the money or the idol, or they might have planned to leave before he could return. But since he had surprised them by returning unexpectedly, it followed that they must reconstruct their plans; they would have to make it impossible for him to comply with his father's wishes.
<b>MACCHESNEY, CLARA TAGGART.</b> Two medals at Chicago Exposition, 1893; Dodge prize, National Academy, New York, 1894; gold medal, Philadelphia Art Club, 1900; Hallgarten prize, National Academy, 1901; bronze medal, Buffalo Exposition, 1901. Three medals at Colarossi School, Paris. Member of National Art Club, Barnard Club, and Water-Color Club, all of New York. Born in Brownsville, California.
Besides, a man can't do any thinkin' to amount to anything when he's forkin' a horse, an' I reckon you two coyotes will be doin' a heap of thinkin' on your way back to the Arrow." "Good Lord!" said the elder Taggart; "you don't mean that? Why, it's fifteen miles to the Arrow!" "Shucks," said Calumet; "so it is! An' it's after midnight, too.
You can see the Dop Doctor upon this brilliant November morning mounting a charger lent him by his friend, a handsome Waler full of mettle and spirit oats not being yet required for the support of humans and calling au revoir to Taggart as he rides away from the Hospital gates followed by an orderly of the R.A.M.C. in a spider, pulled by a wiry, shabby little Boer mare.
"By heck! but that's a purty saddle he carries!" "What say, Taggart?" "For God's sake, no, Bishop! No I got enough dead faces looking at me now from this place. I'm ha'nted into hell a'ready, like he said he was yisterday. By God! I sometimes a'most think I'll have my ears busted and my eyes put out to git away from the bloody things!" "Ho! Scared, are you? Well, I'll do it myself.
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