The prairie was shining white in the moonlight with the first frost when
Torrance, Hetty, and Miss Schuyler drove up to Allonby's ranch. They were
late in arriving and found a company of neighbours already assembled in
the big general room. It was panelled with cedar from the Pacific slope,
and about the doors and windows were rich hangings of tapestry, but the
dust was thick upon them and their beauty had been wasted by the moth.
Tarnished silver candlesticks and lamps which might have come from England
a century ago, and a scarred piano littered with tattered music, were in
keeping with the tapestry; for signs of taste were balanced by those of
neglect, while here and there a roughly patched piece of furniture
conveyed a plainer hint that dollars were scanty with Allonby. He was from
the South, a spare, grey-haired man, with a stamp of old-fashioned
dignity, and in his face a sadness not far removed from apathy and which,
perhaps, accounted for the condition of his property.
His guests, among whom were a number of young men and women, were,
however, apparently light-hearted, and had whiled away an hour or two with
song and badinage. A little removed from them, in a corner with the great
dusty curtain of a window behind her, sat Hetty Torrance with Allonby's
nephew and daughter. Miss Allonby was pale and slight and silent; but her
cousin united the vivacity of the Northerner with the distinction that is
still common in the South, and--for he was very young--Hetty found a
mischievous pleasure in noticing his almost too open admiration for Flora
Schuyler, who sat close beside them. A girl was singing indifferently, and
when she stopped, Miss Allonby raised her head as a rhythmical sound
became audible through the closing chords of the piano.
"Somebody riding here in a hurry!" she said.
It was significant that the hum of voices which followed the music ceased
as the drumming of hoofs grew louder; the women looked anxious and the men
glanced at one another. Tidings brought in haste were usually of moment
then. Torrance, however, stood up and smiled at the assembly.
"I guess some of those rascally rustlers have been driving off a steer
again," he said. "Can't you sing us something, Clavering?"
Clavering understood him, and it was a rollicking ballad he trolled out
with verve and spirit; but still, though none of the guests now showed it
openly, the anxious suspense did not abate, and by and by Miss Allonby
smiled at the lad beside her somewhat drily.
"Never mind the story, Chris. I guess we know the rest. That man is riding
hard, and you are as anxious as any of us," she said.
A minute or two later there was a murmur of voices below, and Allonby went
out. Nobody appeared to notice this, but the hum of somewhat meaningless
talk which followed and the strained look in one or two of the women's
faces had its meaning. Every eye was turned towards the doorway until
Allonby came back and spoke with Torrance apart. Then he smiled
reassuringly upon his guests.
"You will be pleased to hear that some of our comrades have laid hands
upon one of the leaders in the attack upon the jail," he said. "They want
to lodge him here until they can send for the Sheriff's posse, and of
course I could only agree. Though the State seems bent on treating us
somewhat meanly, we are, I believe, still loyal citizens, and I feel quite
sure you will overlook any trifling inconvenience the arrival of the
prisoner may cause you."
"Doesn't he put it just a little curiously?" suggested Flora Schuyler.
"Well," said Christopher Allonby, "it really isn't nice to have one of our
few pleasant evenings spoiled by this kind of thing."
"You don't understand. I am quite pleased with your uncle, but there's
something that amuses me in the idea of jailing one's adversary from
patriotic duty."
Christopher Allonby smiled. "There's a good deal of human nature in most
of us, and it's about time we got even with one or two of them."
"Find out about it, Chris," said Miss Allonby; "then come straight back
and tell us."
The young man approached a group of his elders who were talking together,
and returned by and by.
"It was done quite smartly," he said. "One of the homestead boys who had
fallen out with Larry came over to us, and I fancy it was Clavering fixed
the thing up with him. The boys didn't know he had deserted them, and the
man he took the oats to believed in him."
"I can't remember you telling a tale so one could understand it, Chris,"
said Miss Allonby. "Why did he take the oats to him?"
The lad laughed. "They have their committees and executives, and when a
man has to do anything they send a few grains of oats to him. One can't
see much use in it, and we know 'most everything about them; but it makes
the thing kind of impressive, and the rustler fancied our boy was square
when he got them. He was to ride over alone and meet somebody from one of
the other executives at night in a bluff. He went, and found a band of
cattle-boys waiting for him. I believe he hadn't a show at all, for the
man who went up to talk to him grabbed his rifle, but it seems he managed
to damage one or two of them."
"You don't know who he is?" asked Miss Allonby; and Flora Schuyler noticed
a sudden intentness in Hetty's eyes.
"No," said the lad, "but the boys will be here with him by and by, and I'm
glad they made quite sure of him, any way."
Hetty's eyes sparkled. "You can't be proud of them! It wasn't very
American."
"Well, we can't afford to be too particular, considering what we have at
stake; though it might have sounded nicer if they had managed it
differently. You don't sympathize with the homestead boys, Miss
Torrance?"
"Of course not!" said Hetty, with a little impatient gesture. "Still, that
kind of meanness does not appeal to me. Even the men we don't like would
despise it. They rode into the town without a cartridge in their rifles,
and took out their friends in spite of the Sheriff, while the crowd looked
on."
"It was Larry Grant fixed that, and 'tisn't every day you can find a man
like him. It 'most made me sick when I heard he had gone over to the
rabble."
"You were a friend of his?" asked Flora Schuyler.
"Oh, yes;" and a little shadow crept into Allonby's face. "But, that's
over now. When a man goes back on his own folks there's only one way of
treating him, and it's not going to be nice for Larry if we can catch him.
We're in too tight a place to show the man who can hurt us most much
consideration."
Hetty turned her head a moment, and then changed the subject, but not
before Flora Schuyler noticed the little flush in her cheek. The music,
laughter, and gay talk began again, and if anyone remembered that while
they chased their cares away grim men who desired their downfall toiled
and planned, no sign of the fact was visible.
Twenty minutes passed, and then the thud of hoofs once more rose from the
prairie. It swelled into a drumming that jarred harsh and portentous
through the music, and Hetty's attention to the observations of her
companions became visibly less marked. One by one the voices also seemed
to sink, and it was evidently a relief to the listeners when a girl rose
and closed the piano. Somebody made an effort to secure attention to a
witty story, and there was general laughter, but it also ceased, and an
impressive silence followed. Out of it came the jingle of bridles and
trampling of hoofs, as the men outside pulled up, followed by voices in
the hall, and once more Allonby went out.
"They're right under this window," said his nephew. "Slip quietly behind
the curtains, and I think you can see them."
Flora Schuyler drew the tapestry back, the rest followed her and
Christopher Allonby flung it behind them, so that it shut out the light.
In a moment or two their eyes had become accustomed to the change, and
they saw a little group of mounted men close beneath. Two of them
dismounted, and appeared to be speaking to some one at the door, but the
rest sat with their rifles across their saddles and a prisoner in front of
them. His hat was crushed and battered, his jacket rent, and Flora
Schuyler fancied there was a red trickle down his cheek; but his face was
turned partly away from the window, and he sat very still, apparently with
his arms bound loosely at the wrists.
"All these to make sure of one man, and they have tied his hands!" she
said.
Hetty noticed the ring in her companion's voice, and Allonby made a little
deprecatory gesture.
"It's quite evident they had too much trouble getting him to take any
chances of losing him," he said. "I wish the fellow would turn his head. I
fancy I should know him."
A tremor ran through Hetty for she also felt she recognized that tattered
figure. Then one of the horsemen seized the captive's bridle, and the man
made a slight indignant gesture as the jerk flung off his hands. Flora
Schuyler closed her fingers tight.
"If I were a man I should go down and talk quite straight to them," she
said.
The prisoner was sitting stiffly now, but he swayed in the saddle when one
of the cattle-men struck his horse and it plunged. He turned his head as
he did so, and the moonlight shone into his face. It was very white, and
there was a red smear on his forehead. Hetty gasped, and Flora Schuyler
felt her fingers close almost cruelly upon her arm.
"It's Larry!" she said.
Christopher Allonby nodded. "Yes, we have him at last," he said. "Of
course, one feels sorry; but he brought it on himself. They're going to
put him into the stable."
The men rode forward, and when they passed out of sight Hetty slipped back
from behind the curtain, and, sat down, shivering as she looked up at Miss
Schuyler.
"I can't help it, Flo. If one could only make them let him go!"
"You need not let any of them see it," said Miss Schuyler, sharply. "Sit
quite still here and talk to me. Now, what right had those men to arrest
him?"
The warning was sufficient. Hetty shook out her dress and laughed, though
her voice was not steady.
"It's quite simple," she said. "The Sheriff can call out any citizen to
help him or send any man off after a criminal in an emergency. Of course,
being a responsible man he stands in with us, and in times like these the
arrangement suits everybody. We do what seems the right thing, and the
Sheriff is quite pleased when we tell him."
Flora Schuyler smiled drily. "Yes. It's delightfully simple. Still,
wouldn't it make the thing more square if the other men had a good-natured
Sheriff, too?"
"Now you are laughing at me. The difference is that we are in the right."
"And Larry, of course, must be quite wrong!"
"No," said Hetty, "he is mistaken. Flo, you have got to help me--I'm going
to do something for him. Try to be nice to Chris Allonby. They'll send him
to take care of Larry."
Miss Schuyler looked steadily at her companion. "You tried to make me
believe you didn't care for the man."
A flush stole into Hetty's cheek, and a sparkle to her eyes. "Can't you do
a nice thing without asking questions? Larry was very good to me for
years, and--I'm sorry for him. Any way, it's so easy. Chris is young, and
you could fool any man with those big blue eyes if he let you look at
him."
Flora Schuyler made a half-impatient gesture, and then, sweeping her dress
aside, made room for Christopher Allonby. She also succeeded so well with
him that when the guests had departed and the girls came out into the
corral where he was pacing up and down, he flung his cigar away and
forsook his duty to join them. It was a long ride to Cedar Range, and
Torrance had decided to stay with Allonby until morning.
"It was very hot inside--they would put so much wood in the stove," said
Hetty. "Besides, Flo's fond of the moonlight."
"Well," said Allonby, "it's quite nice out here, and I guess Miss Schuyler
ought to like the moonlight. It's kind to her."
Flora Schuyler laughed as they walked past the end of the great wooden
stable together. "If you look at it in one sense, that wasn't pretty. You
are guarding the prisoner?"
"Yes," said the lad, with evident diffidence. "The boys who brought him
here had 'bout enough of him, and they're resting, while ours are out on
the range. I'm here for two hours any way. It's not quite pleasant to
remember I'm watching Larry."
"Of course!" and Miss Schuyler nodded sympathetically. "Now, couldn't you
just let us talk to him? The boys have cut his forehead, and Hetty wanted
to bring him some balsam. I believe he used to be kind to her."
Allonby looked doubtful, but Miss Schuyler glanced at him appealingly--and
she knew how to use her eyes--while Hetty said:
"Now, don't be foolish, Chris. Of course, we had just to ask your uncle,
but he would have wanted to come with us and would have asked so many
questions, while we knew you would tell nobody anything. You know I can't
help being sorry for Larry, and he has done quite a few nice things for
you, too."
"Miss Schuyler is going with you?"
"Of course," and Hetty smiled mischievously as she glanced at her
companion. "Still, you needn't be jealous, Chris. I'll take the best care
she doesn't make love to him."
Flora Schuyler looked away across the prairie, which was not quite what
one would have expected from a young woman of her capacities; but the
laughing answer served to banish the lad's suspicions, and he walked with
them towards the door. Then he stopped, and when he drew a key from an
inner pocket Hetty saw something twinkle in the moonlight at his belt.
"Chris," she said, "stand still for a minute and shut your eyes quite
tight."
The lad did as he was bidden, for a few years ago he had been the
complaisant victim of Hetty's pleasantries, and felt a light touch on his
lips. Then, there was a pluck at his belt, and Hetty was several yards
away when he made a step forward with his eyes wide open. She was laughing
at him, but there was a pistol in her hand.
"It was only my fingers, Chris, and Flo wasn't the least nearer than she
is now," she said. "If you dared to think anything else, you would make me
too angry. We'll bring this thing back to you in five minutes, but you
wouldn't have us go in there quite defenceless. Now you walk across the
corral, and wait until we tell you."
Allonby was very young, and somewhat susceptible. Hetty was also very
pretty, and, he fancied, Miss Schuyler even prettier still; but he had a
few misgivings, and when they went in closed the lower half of the door
and set his back to it.
"No," he said decisively, "I'm staying right here."
The girls made no demur, but when they had crossed a portion of the long
building Miss Schuyler touched her companion. "I'll wait where I am," she
said drily, "you will not want me."
Hetty went on until she came to where the light of a lantern shone faintly
in a stall. A man sat there with his hands still bound and a wide red
smear upon his forehead. His face flushed suddenly as he glanced at her,
but he said nothing.
"I'm ever so sorry, Larry," said the girl.
The man smiled, though it was evident to Hetty, whose heart beat fast,
that it was only by an effort he retained his self-control.
"Well," he said, "it can't be helped, and it was my fault. Still, I never
suspected that kind of thing."
Hetty coloured. "Larry, you mustn't be bitter--but it was horribly mean. I
couldn't help coming--I was afraid you would fancy I was proud of them."
"No," he said, sternly. "I couldn't have fancied that. There was nothing
else?"
"Your head. It is horribly cut. We saw you from the window, and I fancied
I could tie it up for you. You wouldn't mind if I tried, Larry? I have
some balsam here, and I only want a little water."
For a moment Grant's face was very expressive, but once more he seemed to
put a check upon himself, and his voice was almost too even as he pointed
to the pitcher beside him. "There is some ready. Your friends don't treat
their prisoners very well."
The girl winced a little, but dipping her handkerchief in the pitcher she
laved his forehead, and then would have laid the dressing on it; but he
caught her hand.
"No," he said, "take mine instead."
"You needn't be quite too horrid, Larry," and there was a quiver in her
voice. "It wouldn't hurt you very much to take a little thing like that
from me."
Grant smiled very gravely. "I think you had better take mine. If they
found a lady's handkerchief round my head, Allonby's folks would wonder
how it got there."
Hetty did as he suggested, and felt a curious chagrin when he failed to
look at her. "I used to wonder, Larry, how you were able to think of
everything," she said. "Now I have brought you something else; but you
must promise not to hurt anybody belonging to Allonby with it."
Grant laughed softly, partly to hide his astonishment, when he saw a
pistol laid beside him.
"I haven't grown bloodthirsty, Hetty," he said. "Where did you get it?"
"It was Chris Allonby's. Flo and I fooled him and took it away. It was so
delightfully easy. But you will keep it?"