SLOSSON SNATCHES AT OPPORTUNITY
Gordon had taken David Slosson's measure perfectly, notwithstanding his
own comparative inexperience of the world. Apart from the agent's
business methods, he had seen through the man himself with regard to
Hazel. Hence, now his most serious alarm. The memory of those
lascivious eyes gazing after Hazel in the Main Street of Snake's Fall,
on his first day in the town, had never left him, and though he had
listened to Hazel's positive assurance of her own safety in dealing
with the man a subtle fear had continually haunted him. This was quite
apart from his own jealous feelings. It was utterly unprejudiced by
them. He knew that sooner or later, unless a miracle happened, Hazel
would become the victim of insult. Deep down in his heart, somewhere,
far underneath his passionate jealousy, he knew that Hazel was only
encouraging Slosson that she might help on their common ends, but he
had always doubted her cleverness to carry such a matter through
successfully. To his mind there could only be one end to it all, and
that end--insult.
Now the thing was almost a certainty. With Slosson in his present mood
anything might happen. So he pressed Sunset to a rattling gallop. If
Slosson insulted her----? But he was not in the mood to think--only to
act.
That his fears were well enough founded was pretty obvious. David
Slosson, as he hurried away from Mallinsbee's office, knew that he had
played the game of his own advantage and--lost. This sort of thing had
not often happened, and on those rare occasions on which it had
happened he had so contrived that those who had caused him a reverse
paid fairly dearly in the end. He was one of those men who believed
that if a man only squeezed hard enough blood could be contrived from a
stone. Against every successful offensive of the enemy there was
nearly always a way of "getting back."
That he could "get back" on the commercial side of the present affair
he possessed not the smallest doubt. He would "recommend" to his
company that the present depot at Snake's Fall, with certain
enlargements, and the private line to be built by the Bude and Sideley
Coal people, were all that was sufficient to serve the public, and,
through his judicious purchase of sites in the old township, a far more
profitable enterprise for them than the new township could offer.
Personally, he would have to sacrifice his own interests. But since
Mallinsbee and his cub of an office boy would be badly "stung," the
matter would not be without satisfaction to his revengeful nature.
Then there was that other matter--and he moistened his thin lips as he
contemplated it.
In spite of all Gordon's lack of faith in Hazel's efforts, they had not
been without effect. Slosson had been flattered. His vanity had seen
conquest in Hazel's readiness to accept his company. It had been
obvious to him from the first that the manner in which he had displayed
his "nerve" before her at the ranch pleased her more than a little.
After all, she was a mere country girl--a "rube" girl.
Nor was it likely that she would be difficult now. She was pretty,
pretty as a picture. Her figure appealed to his sensual nature. She
didn't know a thing--outside her ranch. Well, he could teach her.
Especially now. Oh, yes, it was all very opportune. He would teach
her all he knew. He laughed. He would teach her for--her father's
sake. And--yes, for the sake of that young cub of a man that had
ordered him out of the office.
What was his name--"Van Henslaer"? Yes, that was it. A "square-head,"
he supposed. The country was full of these American-speaking German
"square-heads." Then quite suddenly he began to laugh. For the first
time since he came to Snake's Fall the thought occurred to him that
possibly this fellow was in love with Hazel himself. He had been so
busy prosecuting his own attentions to her himself that he had never
considered the possibility of another man being in the running. The
thought inspired an even more pleasant sensation. It threw a new light
upon Van Henslaer's attitude. Well, there was not much doubt as to who
was the favored man. The fellow's very attitude suggested his failure.
Slosson felt he was going to reap better than had seemed at first. He
would ruin Mallinsbee's schemes and satisfy his company at a slight
personal loss to himself. He would complete his triumph over the
individual in Mallinsbee's office. First of all, through Mallinsbee's
failure in the land scheme, by robbing him of a position, and secondly,
through robbing him of all chance of success with the girl. It was not
too bad a retort. He would have made it harsher if he could, but, for
a start, it would have to do. Later, of course, since he would see a
great deal of Snake's Fall and his power in the place would increase,
he would extend operations against his enemies.
Hazel must be his--his entirely. To that he had made up his mind. She
was much too desirable to be "running loose," he told himself.
Marriage was out of the question, unless he wished to commit bigamy; a
pleasantry at which he laughed silently. Anyway, if it were possible,
it would not have suited him. Marriage would have robbed him of the
right to break up her father's land scheme. No, marriage was----
Well, he was married--to his lasting regret.
Hazel was very attractive; very. He could quite understand a man
making a fool of himself over her. He had once made a fool of himself,
and in consequence marriage was very cheap from his point of view. He
regarded women now as lawful prey. And apart from Hazel's
attractiveness, which was very, very seductive, it would be a pretty
piece of getting back on her father and that other. He laughed again.
It was quaint. The prettier a woman the greater the fool she was.
So he rode on towards the coalpits.
His narrow eyes were alert, watching the horizon on every side. He was
looking for that fawn-colored figure on its brown mare. His thoughts
were full of it now. The rest was all thrust into the background,
leaving full play to his desires, which were fast overwhelming all
caution. It would have been impossible to overwhelm his sense of
decency.
Suddenly it occurred to him that it was ridiculous that he should go on
to the coalpits. His eagerness was swaying him. His mad longing for
the girl swept everything before it. Why should he not cut across to
the westward and intercept her on the way from the ranch? She must
come that way, and--he could not possibly miss her.
He looked at his watch. It wanted half an hour to their appointment.
Why, he would be at the pits in ten minutes, which would leave him a
full twenty minutes of waiting.
In his mood of the moment it was a thought quite impossible. So he
swung his horse westwards, with his eyes even more watchful for the
approach of the figure he was seeking.
Perhaps Hazel was late. Perhaps Slosson was traveling faster than he
knew. Anyway, he was already in the shadow of the bigger hills when he
discovered the speeding brown mare with its dainty burden. Hazel
discovered him almost at the same instant, and reined in her horse to
let him come up. In a moment or two his roughly familiar greeting
jarred her ears.
"Hello!" he cried. "There never was a woman who could keep time worth
a cent. I guessed you'd strayed some, so I got along quick."
He had reined up facing her on the cattle track, and his sensual eyes
covertly surveyed her from head to foot.
"Why, you haven't been near the pits," protested Hazel, avoiding his
gaze. "You've come across country. Anyway, it's not time yet." She
pulled off a gauntlet and held up her wrist for him to look at the
watch upon it.
He reached out, caught her hand, and drew it towards him on the
pretense of looking at the watch. His eyes were shining dangerously as
he did so. Just for an instant Hazel was taken unawares. Then her
pretty eyes suddenly lost their smile, and she drew her hand sharply
away.
Slosson looked up.
"Your watch is wrong," he declared, with a grin intended to be
facetious, but which scarcely disguised the feelings lying behind it.
Hazel was smiling again. She shook her head.
"It isn't," she denied. "But come on, or we'll miss the fun. I've got
a youngster there in the corrals, never been saddled or man-handled.
I'm going to ride him for your edification when the boys are through
with the others. It's a mark of my favor which you must duly
appreciate."
She led the way back towards the hills at a steady canter.
"Say, you've got nerve," cried Slosson, in genuine admiration. "Never
been saddled?"
"Or man-handled," returned Hazel, determined he should lose nothing of
her contemplated adventure. "He was rounded up this morning at my
orders out of a bunch of three-year-old prairie-bred colts. You'll
surely see some real bucking--not cat-jumping," she added mischievously.
"Say, you can't forget that play," cried the man, with some pride.
"I'd have got on that hoss if he'd bucked to kingdom-come. I don't
take any bluff from a girl."
"I s'pose girls aren't of much account with you? They're just silly
things with no sense or--or anything. Some men are like that."
A warm glow swept through the man's veins.
"I allow it just depends on the girl."
"Maybe you don't reckon I've got sense?"
Slosson gazed at her with a meaning smile.
"I've seen signs," he observed playfully.
"Thanks. You've surely got keen eyes. Black eyes are mostly keen.
Say, I wonder how much sense they reckon they've seen in me?"
"Well, I should say they've seen that you reckon David Slosson makes a
tolerable companion to ride around with. Which is some sense."
Hazel turned, and her pretty eyes looked straight into his. A man of
less vanity might have questioned the first glance of them. But
Slosson only saw the following smile.
"Just tolerable," she cried, in a fashion which could not give offense.
Then she abruptly changed the subject. "Get through your business
at--the office?" she inquired casually.
Slosson's eyes hardened. In a moment the memory of Gordon swept
through his brain in a tide of swift, hot anger.
"There's nothing doing," he said harshly.
Hazel turned. A quick alarm was shining in her eyes, and the man
interpreted it exactly. Caution was abruptly cast to the winds.
"Say, Hazel," he cried hotly, "I'm going to tell you something. Your
father's a--a fool. Oh, I don't mean it just that way. I mean he's a
fool to set that boy running things for him. He's plumb killed your
golden goose. We've broken off negotiations. That's all. The
railroad don't need Buffalo Point."
"But what's Gordon done?" the girl cried, for the moment off her guard.
"Father gave him instructions. You had an offer to make, and it was to
be considered--duly."
"What's Gordon done?" The man's eyes were hot with fury. "So that's
it--'Gordon.' He's 'Gordon,' eh?" All in a moment venom surged to the
surface. The man's unwholesome features went ghastly in his rage. "He
turned me--me out of the office. He told me to go to hell. Say, that
pup has flung your father's whole darned concern right on to the rocks.
So it's 'Gordon,' eh? To everybody else he's 'Van Henslaer,' but to
you he's 'Gordon.' That's why he's on to me, I guessed as much. Well,
say, you've about mussed up things between you. My back's right up,
and I'm cursed if the railroad 'll move for the benefit of those
interested in Buffalo Point."
Hazel had heard enough. More than enough. Her temper had risen too.
"Look here, Mr. Slosson. I don't pretend to mistake your inference.
Gordon is just a good friend of mine," she declared hotly. "But I've
no doubt that whatever he did was justified. If we're going on any
farther together you're going to apologize right here and now for what
you've said about Gordon."
She reined up her mare so sharply that the startled creature was flung
upon her haunches, and the man's livery horse went on some yards
farther before it was pulled up. But Slosson came back at once and
ranged alongside. They were already in the bigger hills, and one
shaggy crag, overshadowing them, shut out the dazzling gleam of the
westering sun.
"There's going to be the need of a heap of apology around," cried
Slosson, but something of his anger was melting before the girl's
flashing eyes. Then, too, the moment was the opportunity he had been
seeking. "See here, Hazel----"
"Don't you dare to call me 'Hazel,'" the girl flung out at him hotly.
"You will apologize here and now."
There was no mistaking her determination, and the man watched her with
furtive eyes. He pretended to consider deeply before he replied. At a
gesture of impatience from the girl he finally flung out one arm.
"See here," he cried, "maybe I oughtn't to have said that, and I guess
I apologize. But--you see, I was sort of mad when you talked that way
about this--'Gordon.'" His teeth clipped over the word. "You see,
Hazel," he insinuated again, "we've had a real good time together, and
you made it so plain I'm not--indifferent to you that it just stung me
bad to hear you speak of--'Gordon.' I'm crazy about you, I am sure.
I'm so crazy I can't sleep at nights. I'm so crazy that I'd let the
railroad folk go hang just for you--if you just asked me. I'd even
forget all that feller said, and would pool in on Buffalo Point the way
your father needs--if you asked me."
He waited. He had thrown every effort of persuasion he was capable of
into his words and manner, and Hazel was deceived. She did not observe
the furtive eyes watching her. She was only aware of the almost
genuine manner of his pleading.
"If I asked you?" she said thoughtfully. Then she looked up quickly,
her eyes half smiling. "Of course I ask you."
In a moment the man pressed nearer.
"And you'll play the game?" he asked almost breathlessly.
All in a moment a subtle fear of him swept through the girl.
Instinctively her hand tightened its grip on the heavy quirt swinging
from her wrist.
"What do you mean?" she demanded in a low tone.
The man's eyes were shining with the meaning lying behind his words.
There should have been no necessity to ask that question.
Quite suddenly he reached farther out and seized her about the waist
with one hand, while with the other he caught her reins to check her
mare. The next moment he had crushed her to him and his flushed face
was close to hers.
"There's only one game," he cried hoarsely. "And----"
But he got no further. Like a flash of lightning Hazel's quirt slashed
furiously at him. The blow was wild and missed its object. It fell on
his horse's head and neck. Again it was raised, and again it fell on
the horse and on her mare. The horse plunged aside and her own mare
started forward. The next moment both riders were on the ground,
struggling violently.
Sunset plowed along over the prairie. True enough, he was the
rocking-horse Hazel had declared him to be. But she might have added
that he was the speediest horse ever foaled on her father's range.
Gordon was in no mood to spare him. But, press him as he might, he
seemed incapable of sounding the full depths of his resources.
Had Gordon only taken the course of the impatient Slosson he would have
arrived in time to have prevented the catastrophe. But as it was he
made the coalpits, and, finding no trace of either Hazel or the agent,
with prompt decision he headed at once for the southern corrals. It
was some time before he discovered the tracks he sought, and was
beginning to think that in some extraordinary fashion he had missed
them altogether. The thought stirred his jealousy, and--but he put all
doubt from his mind, and further bustled the long-suffering Sunset.
Then came the moment when he first saw the hoof-prints in the sand of
the cattle track. In a moment his thoughts cleared and his old fears
urged him on.
He was right now, he knew. The hills about him were growing in height
and ruggedness. The corrals were only a few miles on, and Sunset was
racing down the track as if he were aware of the threatening danger to
the girl whom he had so often carried on his back. But even if he were
he was utterly unprepared for the furious thrashing of his present
rider's heels which came as they were approaching one great shaggy hill
to the south of them, in answer to a thin, high-pitched shrill for
"Help!"
Gordon heard and understood. He had been right, after all, and a
terrible panic and fury assailed him. Sunset was racing now, with his
barrel low to the ground. Then as they came into the shadow of the
hill the faithful creature felt the bit in his mouth jar suddenly and
painfully, and he nearly sank on to his haunches.
Gordon was out of the saddle and rushing headlong like some
rage-maddened bull.
Something had happened, and Hazel, in a partial daze, scarcely
understood quite what it was. All she knew was that she was no longer
struggling desperately in the arms of a man, with his hideous face
thrust towards hers with obvious intention. She had fought as she had
never dreamed of having to fight in all her life, and in her extremity
she had shrilled again and again for "Help!" which, had she thought,
she would have known was miles from the lonely spot where she was
struggling. Then had happened that something she could not understand.
She only knew that she was no longer struggling, and that hideous,
coarse, passion-lit face had vanished from before her terrified eyes.
She had heard a voice, a familiar voice, hoarse with passion. The
words it had uttered were the foulest blasphemy, such words as only a
man uses when in the heat of battle and his desire is to kill. Then
had passed that nightmare face from before her eyes.
After some moments her mental faculties became less uncertain, and with
their clearing she became aware of a confusion of sounds. She heard
the sound of blows and the incessant shuffling of feet through the tall
prairie grass. She looked about her.
All in a minute she was on her feet, her eyes wide and staring with an
expression half of terror, half of the wildest excitement. A fight was
going on--a fight in which six feet three of science was arrayed
against lesser stature but equal strength and a blend of animal fury
which yearned to kill.
David Slosson came at his hated adversary in lunging rushes and with
all his weight and muscle, hoping to clinch and reduce the battle to
the less scientific condition of a "rough-and-tumble" as it is known
only in America. Once he could achieve a definite clinch he knew that
the advantage would lie with him. He knew the game of "chew and gouge"
as few men knew it. He had learned it in his earlier days of lumber
camps.
But Gordon had steadied himself from his first mad rush. It was the
sight of Hazel in this man's clutches that had roused the desire for
murder in his hot blood. Now it was different. Now it was a fight, a
fight such as he could enjoy; and such were his feelings that he was
determined it should be a fight to a finish, even if that finish should
mean a killing.
He had no difficulty in punishing. His opponent's arms came at him
wildly, while his own leads and counters struck home with smashes of a
staggering nature. Twice he got in an upper-cut which set his man
reeling, and in each case he smashed home his left immediately with all
the force of his great shoulders. But David Slosson was tough. He
seemed to thrive on punishment, and he came again and again.
Gordon was in his element. His physical condition had never been more
perfect, and, provided that clinch was prevented, nothing on earth
could save his man. The blood was already streaming from Slosson's
cheek, and an ugly split disfigured his lower lip.
Now he came in with his head down--a favorite bull rush of the
"rough-and-tumble." Gordon saw it coming and waited. He side-stepped,
and smashed a terrific blow behind the left ear. The man stumbled, but
saved himself. With an inarticulate attempt at an oath he was at the
boxer again. Another rush, but it checked half-way, and a violent kick
was aimed at Gordon's middle. It missed its mark, but caught him on
the side of the knee. The pain of the blow for a moment robbed the
younger man of his caution. He responded with a smashing left and
right. They both landed, but in the rush his loose coat was caught and
held as the agent fell.
Slosson clung to the coat as a terrier will cling to a stick. In spite
of the rain of blows battering his head he held on. It was the first
hold he needed. The second came a moment later. His other arm crooked
about Gordon's right knee. The next moment they were on the ground in
the throes of a wild, demoniacal "rough-and-tumble."
The science of the boxer could serve Gordon no longer. He knew it. He
knew also that the fight was more than leveled up. The struggle had
degenerated into an inhuman aim for those vital parts which would leave
the victim blind or maimed for life.
By the luck of Providence he fell uppermost. His hands being free and
his strength at its greatest, also possessing nothing of the degraded
mind of the rough-and-tumble fighter, he went for his opponent's
throat, and got his grip just as he felt the other's teeth clip, in a
savage snap, at his right ear. It was a happy miss, or he knew he
would have spent the rest of his life with only one ear, and possibly
part of the other.
But there were other things to avoid. He crushed the man's head upon
the ground, while his great hands tightened their grip upon his throat.
But Slosson's hands were not idle. They struggled up, and Gordon felt
that they were groping for his throat. His own pressure increased.
"Squeal, you swine!" he roared. "Squeal, or I'll choke the life out of
you!"
The man was unable to squeal under the terrible throat-hold. His
breath was coming in gasps. All of a sudden those groping hands made a
lunge at Gordon's eyes. One finger even struck his left eye with
intent to gouge it out. Gordon threw back his head, but dared not
release his hold. His only other defense was an instinctive one. He
opened his mouth and made a wolfish snap at the hand that had sought to
blind him. He bit three of its fingers to the bone. There was a cry
from the man under his hands, and the straining body beneath him ceased
to struggle.
Gordon released his hold and stood up. He aimed one violent kick of
disgust at the man's ribs and turned away.