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Saul Chadron had been a great and noble man to some who wept in its silent rooms as the gloaming deepened into darkness over the garden, where the last leaves of autumn were tugging at their anchorage to sail away. Even Frances Landcraft in her vigil beside Macdonald's cot felt pity for Chadron's fall. She regretted, at least, that he had not gone out of life more worthily.
He carried a violin case behind his saddle, and a banjo in a green covering slung like a carbine over his shoulder. "He'll know where to put his horse," said Mrs. Chadron, getting up with a new interest in life, "and I'll just go and have Maggie stir him up a bite to eat and warm the coffee. He's always hungry when he comes anywhere, poor little man!" "Can he play that battery of instruments?"
In that sober habit she appeared smaller and less stately, and Saul Chadron, with his heavy shoulders against the closed door, towered above her, dark and angrily determined. "I'm going to get my horse," said she, standing before him, waiting for him to quit the door.
One remained behind, and halted the column as it came around the brushwood screen at the turn of the road. Major King greeted Frances as he rode up, scowling in high dignity. Chadron could not cover his surprise so well as Major King at seeing her there, her horse in a sweat, her habit torn where the brambles had snatched at her in her hard ride to get ahead of the troops.
"Frances will take him away as soon as he's able to be moved," said Nola, pleading, fearful, her eyes great with the terror of what she saw in Frances' face. "Yes, she'll go with him, right now!" Chadron declared. "I'll give you just ten seconds to put down that gun, or I'll come in there and take it away from you! No damn woman "
"I've seen him go many a time, Frances, but never with such a pain in my heart as tonight!" And Saul Chadron was the man who had caused his going, Frances knew, a new illumination having come over the situation since hearing his voice in the colonel's office a few minutes past. Chadron had been at Meander, telegraphing to the cattlemen's servants in Washington all the time.
I ain't payin' for anything sight 'nseen," Chadron told him, starting out of his speculative wanderings. "Money down, on the nail," repeated Thorn, as if he had not heard. His old cap was hovering over his long hair, its flaps down like the wings of a brooding hen. There were clinging bits of broken sage on it, and burrs, which it had gathered in his skulking through the brush.
"Give him water; stop the blood," she ordered sharply. In a moment she had dashed out after Mrs. Chadron, and was running frantically along the garden path toward the river. Frances stopped at the high wire fence along the river bank. It was dark there between the shrubs of the garden on one hand and the tall willows on the other, but nothing moved in them but her own leaping heart.
"Maybe your bluffin' goes with some people, but it don't go with me. You git to hell out of here!" "In your place and time I'll talk to you, you sneaking hound!" Colonel Landcraft answered, throwing Chadron one blasting look. "Take off that sword, surrender those arms! You are under arrest." This to Major King, who stood scowling, watching the colonel as if to ward an attack.
"Father has relented, as I knew he would, out of regard for their friendship of the past, and will not bring charges based on Major King's plottings with Chadron." "It's better that way," he nodded. "Do you suppose there's nothing between him and Nola?" "I think she'll have him after her grief passes, Alan." "Better than he deserves," said he.
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