The One-Way Trail: A story of the cattle country

CHAPTER XIV
THE BREAKING POINT

Eve and Will were at supper. The girl’s brown eyes had lost their old gentle smile. Their soft depths no longer contained that well of girlish hope, that trusting joy of life. It seemed as if the curtain of romance had been torn aside, and the mouldering skeleton of life had been laid bare to her. There was trouble and pain in her look, there was fear, too; nor was it quite plain the nature of her fear. It may have been that fear of the future which comes to natures where love is the mainspring of responsibility. It may have been the fear of the weaker vessel, where harshness and brutality are threatened. It may have been a fear inspired by health already undermined by anxiety and worry. The old happy light was utterly gone from her eyes as she silently partook of the frugal supper her own hands had prepared.

Will Henderson moodily devoured his food at the opposite end of the table. The third of their household was not there. Elia rarely took his meals with them. He preferred them by himself, for he hated and dreaded Will’s tongue, which, though held in some check when he was sober, never failed to sting the boy when Silas Rocket’s whiskey had done its work.

The meal was nearly finished, and husband and wife had exchanged not a single word. Eve wished to talk; there was so much she wanted to say to him. The flame of her love still burned in her gentle bosom, but it was a flame sorely blown about by the storm winds of their brief married life. But somehow she could not utter the words she wanted to. There was no encouragement. There was a definite but intangible bar to their expression. The brutal silence of the man chilled her, and frightened her.

Finally it was he who spoke, and he made some sort of effort to hide the determination lying behind his words.

“How much money have you got, Eve?” he demanded, pushing his plate away with a movement which belied his tone. It was a question which had a familiar ring to the ears of the troubled girl.

“Thirty dollars,” she said patiently. Then she sighed.

The man promptly threw aside all further mask.

“For God’s sake don’t sigh like that! You’ll be sniveling directly. One would think I was doin’ you an injury asking you a simple question.”

“It’s not that, Will. I’m thinking of what’s going to happen when that’s gone. It’s got to last us a month. Then I get my money from Carrie Horsley and Mrs. Crombie. They owe me seventy dollars between them for their summer suits. I’ve got several orders, but folks are tight here for money, and it’s always a matter of waiting.”

“Can’t you get an advance from ’em?”

That frightened look suddenly leaped again into the girl’s eyes.

“Oh, Will!”

“Oh, don’t start that game!” the man retorted savagely. “We’ve got to live, I s’pose. You’ll earn the money. That sort of thing is done in every business. You make me sick.” He lit his pipe and blew great clouds of smoke across the table. “I tell you what it is, we can’t afford to keep your brother doing nothing all the time. If you insist on keeping him you must find the money–somewhere. It’s no use being proud. We’re hard up, and if people owe you money, well–dun ’em for it. I don’t know how it is, but this darned business of yours seems to have gone to pieces.”

“It’s not gone to pieces, Will,” Eve protested. “I’ve made more money this last four months than ever before.” The girl’s manner had a patience in it that came from her brief but bitter experiences.

“Then what’s become of the money?”

But Eve’s patience had its limits. The cruel injustice of his sneering question drove her beyond endurance.

“Oh, Will,” she cried, “and you can sit there and ask such a question! Where has it gone?” She laughed without any mirth. “It’s gone with the rest, down at the saloon, where you’ve gambled it away. It’s gone because I’ve been a weak fool and listened to your talk of gambling schemes which have never once come off. Oh, Will, I don’t want to throw this all up at you. Indeed, indeed, I don’t. But you drive me to it with your unkindness, which–which I can’t understand. Don’t you see, dear, that I want to make you happy, that I want to help you? You must see it, and yet you treat me worse–oh, worse than a nigger! Why is it? What have I done? God knows you can have all, everything I possess in the world. I would do anything for you, but–but–you– Sometimes I think you have learned to hate me. Sometimes I think the very sight of me rouses all that is worst in you. What is it, dear? What is it that has come between us? What have I done to make you like this?”

She paused, her eyes full of that pain and misery which her tongue could never adequately express. She wanted to open her heart to him, to let him see all the gold of her feelings for him, but his moody unresponsiveness set her tongue faltering and left her groping blindly for the cause of the trouble between them.

It was some moments before Will answered her. He sat glaring at the table, the smoke of his pipe clouding the still air of the neat kitchen. He knew he was facing a critical moment in their lives. He saw dimly that he had, for his own interests, gone a shade too far. Eve was not a weakling, she was a woman of distinct character, and even in his dull, besotted way he detected at last that note of rebellion underlying her appeal. Suddenly he looked up and smiled. But it was not altogether a pleasant smile. It was against his inclination, and was ready to vanish on the smallest provocation.

“You’re taking things wrong, Eve,” he said, and the strain of attempting a conciliatory attitude made the words come sharply. “What do I want your money for, but to try and make more with it? Do you think I want you to keep me? I haven’t come to that yet.” His tone was rapidly losing its veneer of restraint. “Guess I can work all right. No, no, my girl, you haven’t got to keep me yet. But money gets money, and you ought to realize it. I admit my luck at ‘draw’ has been bad–rotten!” He violently knocked his pipe out on a plate. “But it’s got to change. I can play with the best of ’em, an’ they play a straight game. What’s losing a few nights, if, in the end, I get a big stake? Why Restless helped himself to a hundred dollars last night. And I’m going to to-night.”

“But, Will, you’ve said that every night for the last month. Why not be fair with yourself? Your luck is out; give it up. Will, give up the saloon for–for my sake. Do, dear.” Eve rose and went round to the man’s side, and laid a tenderly persuasive hand upon his shoulder. She was only waiting for a fraction of encouragement. But that fraction was not forthcoming. Instead he shook her off. But he tried to do it pleasantly.

“Here, sit you down, Eve, and listen to me. I’m going to tell you something that I hadn’t intended to, only–only you’re bothering such a hell of a lot.”

His language passed. She was used to it now. And she sat shrinking at his rebuff, but curious and half fearful at what he might have to tell her.

“I’m going to have a flutter to-night, no matter what comes, make your mind up to that. And, win or lose, it’s my last. Get that? But I’ve got a definite reason for it. You see I haven’t been as idle as you think. I’ve been hunting around on the trail of Peter Blunt. Folks all think him a fool, and cranky some. I never did. He’s been a gold prospector most of his life. And it’s not likely he don’t know. Well, I’m not giving you a long yarn, and to cut it short, I’m right on to a big find. At least I’ve got color in a placer up at the head waters, and to-morrow I go out to work it for all it’s worth. No, I’m not going to tell even you where it is. You see it’s a placer, and anybody could work it, and I’d be cut clean out if others got to know where it was. You savvee?”

Eve nodded, but without conviction. The man detected her lack of belief, and that brutal light which was so often in his eyes now suddenly flamed up. But after a moment of effort he banished it, and resorted to an imitation of jocularity.

“So now, old girl, hand over that thirty dollars. I’m going to make a ‘coup,’ and to-morrow begins a period of–gold. I give you my word you shall get it–sure as I’m a living man. I’m not talking foolish. The shining yellow stuff is there for the taking. And so easy, too.”

He waited with a grin of cunning on his lips. He was intoxicated with his own surety. And, curiously, well as Eve knew him, that certainty communicated itself to her in spite of her reason. But the matter of handing over the thirty dollars was different.

A hard light crept into her eyes as she looked down at him from where she stood. Though he did not know it, he was rapidly killing all the love she had for him. Eve was one of those women who can love with every throb of their being. Self had no place in her. The man she loved was, as a natural consequence, her all. Kill her love and she could be as cold and indifferent as marble. At one time in their brief married life those dollars would never have been considered. They would have been his without the asking. Now–

She shook her head decidedly.

“You can’t have them,” she said firmly. “They’ve got to keep us for a month. If you depend on them for a game, you had better wait till you get the gold from your placer.” She moved away, talking as she went. “There’s not only ourselves to consider. There’s Elia. I–”

But she got no further. The mention of her brother’s name suddenly infuriated the man.

“Don’t talk to me of that little devil!” he cried. “I want those thirty dollars, d’you understand?” He crashed his fist on the table and set the supper things clattering. “You talk to me of Elia! That devil’s imp has been in the way ever since we got married. And d’you think I’m going to stand for him now?” He sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing with that fury which of late he rarely took the trouble to keep in check. “See here,” he cried, “you’ve preached to me enough for one night, and, fool-like, I’ve listened to you. I listen to no more. So, just get busy and hand over those dollars.”

But if he was in a fury, he had contrived to stir Eve as he had never stirred her before.

“You’ll not get a cent of them,” she cried, her eyes lighting with sudden cold anger.

For a moment they stood eyeing each other. There was no flinching in Eve now, no appeal, no fear. And the man’s fury was driving him whither it would. He was gathering himself for a final outburst, and when it came it was evident he had lost all control of himself.

“You –! I’ll have those dollars if I have to take ’em!”

“You shall not!”

Will flung his pipe to the ground and dashed at Eve like a madman. He caught her by the shoulders, and gripped the warm rounded flesh until the pain made her writhe under his clutch.

“Where are they?” he demanded, with another furious oath. “I’m going to have ’em. Speak! Speak, you – or I’ll–”

But Eve was obdurate. Her courage was greater than her strength. He shook her violently, clutching at her shoulders as though to squeeze the information he needed out of her. But he got no answer, and, in a sudden access of demoniacal rage, he swung her round and hurled her across the room with all his strength. She fell with a thud, and beyond a low moan lay quite still. Her head had struck the sharp angle of the coal box.

In a moment the man had passed into the bedroom in search of the money. Nor did he have to search far. Eve kept her money in one place always, and he knew where it was. Having possessed himself of the roll of bills he came out into the kitchen. He looked about him, and his furious eyes fell upon the prostrate form of his wife. She was lying beside the coal box in the attitude in which she had fallen. He went over to her, and stood for a second gazing down at the result of his handiwork.

But there was neither pity nor remorse in his heart. For the time at least he hated her. She had dared to defy him, she had twitted him with his gaming, she had refused him–in favor of Elia. He told himself all this, and, as he looked down at the still figure, he told himself it served her right, and that she would know better in the future. But he waited until he detected the feeble rise and fall of her bosom. Then he went out, conscious of a certain feeling of relief in spite of his rage.

CHAPTER XV
A “PARTY CALL”

Peter led the way up the path from the gate of Eve’s garden. He had taken the lead in this visit; he felt it was necessary. Jim Thorpe’s frame of mind was not to be trusted, should they encounter Henderson. He knocked at the door, reassured that Eve was within by the light in her parlor window.

At first he received no reply, and in silence the two men waited. Then Peter knocked again. This time Elia’s voice was heard answering his summons.

“Come in.”

Peter raised the latch, and, closely followed by Jim, passed directly into the parlor. He glanced swiftly round at the litter of dressmaking, but Eve was not there. Jim’s eyes, too, wandered over the familiar little room. It was the first time he had entered it since the day he had ridden over to ask her to marry him.

He saw Eve now in every detail of the furnishing; he saw her in the work he had watched her at so often; he saw her in the very atmosphere of the place, and the realization of all he had lost smote him sorely. Then there came to him the object of his present visit, and he grew sick with the intensity of his feelings.

But the room was empty, and yet it had been Elia’s voice that summoned them to enter. With only the briefest hesitation Peter started toward the kitchen door, and Jim, his thoughts running riot over the past, mechanically followed him. And as they reached it, and Peter’s great bulk filled up the opening, it was the latter’s sharp exclamation that brought Jim to matters of the moment. He drew close up behind his companion and looked over his shoulder, and a startled, horror-stricken cry broke from him.

“Look!” he cried, and the horror in his voice was in his eyes, and the expression of his face.

The scene held them both for a second, and for years it lived in Jim’s memory. The ill-lit kitchen with its single lamp; the yellow rays lighting up little more than the untidy supper-table with the misshapen figure of Elia sitting on the far side of it, calmly devouring his evening meal. The rest of the room was shadowy, except where the light from the cook-stove threw its lurid rays upon the white face and crumpled figure of Eve lying close beside it upon the floor. Her eyes were closed, and a great wound upon her forehead, with blood oozing slowly from it, suggested death to the horrified men.

In an instant Jim was at Eve’s side, bending over her, seeking some signs of life. Then, as Peter came up, he turned to him with a look of unutterable relief.

“She’s alive,” he said.

“Thank God!”

“Quick,” Jim hurried on, “water and a sponge, or towel or something.”

Peter crossed the room to the barrel, and dipped out some water; and, further, he procured a washing flannel, and hastened back with them to Jim, who was kneeling supporting the girl’s wounded head upon his hand.

And all the time Elia, as though in sheer idle curiosity, watched the scene, steadily continuing his meal the while. There was no sort of feeling expressed in his cold eyes. Nor did he display the least relief when Jim assured him Eve was alive. Peter watched the boy, and while Jim bathed her wounded forehead with a tenderness which was something almost maternal, he questioned him with some exasperation.

“How did it happen?” he demanded, his steady eyes fixed disapprovingly on the lad’s face.

“Don’t know. Guess she must ha’ fell some. Ther’s suthin’ red on the edge o’ the coal box. Mebbe it’s her blood.”

The cold indifference angered even Peter.

“And you sit there with her, maybe, dying. Say, you’re pretty mean.”

The boy’s indifference suddenly passed. He glanced at Eve, then at the door, and he stirred uneasily.

“I didn’t know wher’ Will ’ud be. If I’d called folks, an’ he’d got around an’ found ’em here–”

“Why didn’t you fetch him?” Peter broke in.

“I come in jest after he’d gone out, an’–”

“Found–this?” Peter indicated Eve.

“Yes.”

Jim suddenly looked up, and his fierce eyes encountered Peter’s. The latter’s tone promptly changed.

“How is she?” he asked gently, and it was evident he was trying to banish the thoughts which Elia’s statement had stirred in Jim’s mind.

“Coming to,” he said shortly, and turned again to his task of bathing the injured woman’s forehead.

But it was still some minutes before the flicker of the girl’s eyelids proved Jim’s words. Then he sighed his relief and for a moment ceased the bathing and examined the wound. Then he reached a cushion from one of the kitchen chairs and folded it under her head.

The wound on her forehead was an ugly place just over her right temple, and there was no doubt in his mind had it been half an inch lower it would have proved fatal. He knelt there staring at it, wondering and speculating. He glanced at the corner of the box, and the thought of Eve’s height suggested the impossibility of a tumble causing such a wound. Suspicion stirred him to a cold, hard rage. This was no accident, he told himself, and his mind flew at once to the only person who, to his way of thinking, could have caused it. Will had left her just as Elia came in; but Peter’s voice called him to himself.

“Best keep on with the bathing,” he said.

And without a sign Jim bent to his task once more. A moment later Eve stirred, and her eyes opened. At first there was no meaning in her upward stare. Then the eyes began to move, and settled themselves on Jim’s face. In a moment consciousness returned, and she struggled to sit up. It was then the man’s arm was thrust under her shoulders, and he gently lifted her.

“Feeling better, Eve?” he asked gently.

There was a moment’s pause; then a whispered, “Yes,” came from her lips. But her wound began to bleed afresh, and Jim turned at once to Elia.

“Go you and hunt up Doc Crombie,” he said hastily. And as the boy stirred to depart, he added in a tone that was curiously sharp set, “Then go on to the saloon and tell Will Henderson to come right up here.”

But Peter interfered.

“Let him get the Doc,” he said. “I’ll see to him–later.”

The two men exchanged glances, and Jim gave way.

“Very well. But hurry for Crombie.”

After that Eve’s voice demanding water held all Jim’s attention. And while Peter procured a cupful, he lifted her gently in his arms and carried her into the parlor, and laid her on an old horsehair settee, propping her carefully into a sitting position. When the water was brought she drank thirstily, and then, closing her eyes, sank back with something like a sigh of contentment.

But with the first touch of the wet flannel which Jim again applied to her head she looked up.

“I fell on the coal box,” she said hastily. And before Jim could answer Peter spoke.

“That’s how we guessed,” he said kindly. “Maybe you were stooping for coal–sure.”

“Yes, yes. I was stooping for coal for the kitchen stove. I must have got dizzy. You needn’t send for the doctor. I’m all right, and the bleeding will stop. I’ve just got a headache. Please don’t send for Will; I’m glad you haven’t. He’d only be alarmed for–for nothing–and really I’m all right. Thank you, Jim, and you too, Peter. You can’t do anything more. Really you can’t and I don’t want to spoil your evening. I–”

“We’re going to wait for the Doc, Eve,” said Jim, firmly.

Her eagerness to be rid of them was painfully evident, and so unlike her.

“Yes,” agreed Peter, “we better wait for the Doc, Eve. You see we came down to pay you a party call.”

“A party call?”

“Yes. Y’see Jim rode in from the ‘AZ’s’ to pay you a–party call.”

The girl’s eyes steadied themselves on Jim’s face. He had drawn himself up a chair, and was sitting opposite her. Peter was still standing, his great bulk shutting the glare of the lamplight out of her eyes. She looked long and earnestly into the man’s face, as though she would fathom the meaning of his visit before she in any way committed herself. But she learned nothing from it.

“A party call–after all this time, Jim?” she asked, with something like a wistful smile.

Jim turned away. He could not face the pathos in her expression. His eyes wandered round the little room. Not one detail of it was forgotten, yet it seemed ages and ages since he had seen it all. He nodded.

“You see,” he said lamely, “new married folks don’t–”

Eve checked his explanation quickly. She didn’t want any. All she wanted was for them to go before Will returned.

“Yes; I know. And, besides, the ranch is a long way. Yet–why did you come to-night?” She pressed her hand to her forehead lest the fear in her eyes should betray her.

The pause which followed was awkward. Somehow neither of the men was prepared for it. Neither had thought that such a question would be put to him. Peter looked at Jim, who turned deliberately away. He was struggling vainly for a way of approaching all he had to say to this girl, and now that he was face to face with it he realized the impossibility of his position. Finally it was the girl herself who helped him out.

“It’s very, very kind of you, anyway,” she said, in a low voice. “It’s good to think that I’ve got friends thinking about me–”

“That’s just it, Eve,” cried Jim, seizing his opportunity with a clumsy rush. “I’ve been thinking a heap–lately. You see–Will Henderson’s not working and–and–folks say–”

“And gossip says we’re ‘hard up,’” Eve added bitterly. She knew well enough the talk that was rife. “So you’ve come in to see–if it is true.” She again pressed a hand to her forehead. This time it was the pain of her head which had become excruciating.

Jim nodded, and Peter’s smiling eyes continued to watch him.

“But it wasn’t exactly that,” the former went on in his straightforward way. “Yet it’s so blazing hard to put it so you can understand. You see, I’ve been doing very well, and–you know I’ve got a big bunch of cattle running up in the foot-hills now–I thought, maybe, seeing Will isn’t working, money might be a bit tight with you. You see, we’re folks of the world, and there’s no fool sentiment about us in these things; I mean no ridiculous pride. Now, if I was down, and you’d offered to help me out, I’d just take it as a real friendly act. And I just thought–maybe–”

How much longer he would have continued to flounder on it was impossible to tell, but Peter saw his trouble and cut him short.

“You see, Eve,” he said, “Jim wants to help you out. Some folks have got busy, and he’s heard that you’re hard pushed for ready dollars. That’s how it is.”

Jim frowned at his bluntness, but was in reality immensely relieved. Eve had been listening with closed eyes, but now opened them, and they were full of a friendliness.

“Thanks, Peter; thanks, Jim,” she said softly. “You’re both very good to me, but–don’t worry about money. If things go right we have enough.”

“That’s it, Eve,” Jim exclaimed eagerly. “If things go right. Are they going right? Will they go right? That’s just it. Say, can’t you see it hurts bad to think you’ve got to pinch, and that sort of thing? You can surely take a loan from me. You–”

But Eve shook her head decidedly.

“Things will go right, believe me. Will has got something up–in the hills. He says it’s going to bring us in a lot.” She turned wistful eyes upon Peter’s rugged face. “It’s something in your line,” she said. “Gold. And he says–” She broke off with a look of sudden distress. “I forgot. I wasn’t to say anything to–to anybody. Please–please forget about it. But I only wanted to show you that–we are going to do very well.”

“So Will’s struck it rich.” It was Peter’s astonished voice that answered her. The news had a peculiar interest for him. “Placer?” he inquired.

“Yes–and easy to work. But you won’t say a word about it, will you? He told me not to speak of it. And if he knew he would be so angry. I–”

“Don’t worry, Eve,” broke in Jim, gently. “Your secret is safe with us–quite safe.”

Peter said nothing. The news had staggered him for a moment, and he was vainly trying to digest it. Jim rose from his seat and leaned against the table. His attempt had failed. She would have none of his help. But his coming to that house had told him, in spite of Eve’s reassurance, that the gossip was well founded. There was trouble in Eve’s home, and it was worse than he had anticipated.

The girl eyed them both for a moment with a return of that fear in her eyes.

“Are you going now?” she inquired, with an anxiety she no longer tried to conceal. She felt so ill that it didn’t seem to matter what she said.

“We’re going to wait till Doc Crombie’s fixed you up,” said Peter, steadily. Then he added thoughtfully, “After that I’m going to fetch Will.”

Eve gasped. Swift protest rose to her lips, but it remained unspoken, for at that moment there came the sound of footsteps outside, and Elia led the forceful doctor into the room.

“Hey, Mrs. Henderson,” he cried, nodding at the two men. “Winged your head some. Let’s have a look,” he added, crossing to Eve’s side and glancing keenly at her wound. “Whew!” he whistled. “How did you do it? Eh?” he demanded, and Peter explained. The explanation was made to save Eve what both he and Jim knew to be a lie.

The doctor’s blunt scorn was withering.

“Pooh! Leanin’ over the coal box? Fell on the corner? Nonsense! Say, if you’d fell clear off o’ the roof on to that dogone box, mebbe you could ha’ done that amount o’ damage. But–”

Eve’s eyes flashed indignantly.

“I’d be glad if you’d fix me up,” she said coldly.

The rough doctor grinned and got to work. She had made him suddenly realize that he was dealing with a woman, and not one of the men of the village. He promptly waived what had, in the course of years, become a sort of prerogative of his: the right to bully. In half an hour he had finished and the three prepared to take their departure.

“Guess you’ll be all right now,” Crombie said, in his gruff but not unkindly way. Then, unable to check entirely his hectoring, he went on with a sarcastic grin. “An’, say, ma’m, if you’ve a habit o’ leanin’ so heavy over the coal box, I’d advise you to git the corners rounded some. When falls sech as you’ve jest bin takin’ happen around they don’t generly end with the first of ’em. I wish you good-night.”

Peter also bade her good-night, and he and the doctor passed out. Jim was about to follow when Eve stayed him. She waited to speak till the others had passed out of ear-shot.

“Jim, you’re real good,” she said in a low voice. “And I can never thank you enough. No,” as he made an attempt to stop her, “I must speak. I didn’t want to, but–but I must. It isn’t money we want–truth. Not yet. But maybe you can help me. I don’t rightly know. You do want to, don’t you? Sure–sure?”

Jim nodded. His eyes told her. At that moment he would have done anything for her.

“Well, if you want to help me there’s only one way. Help him. Oh, Jim, he needs it. I don’t know how it’s to be done, but–for my sake–help him. Jim, it’s drink–drink and poker. They’re ruining him. You can only help me–by helping him. No, don’t promise anything. Good-night, Jim. God bless you!”

She held out her hand to him and, in a paroxysm of ardent feeling, he clutched it and kissed it passionately. A moment later he was gone.

As the door closed Elia stepped into the light. The girl had forgotten all about him. Now she was startled.

“Eve, wot fer did you lie about that?” he said, pointing at her bandaged head.

The girl’s head was aching so that it seemed it would split, and she closed her eyes. But the boy would not be denied.

“You lied, sis,” he exclaimed vehemently, though his face and eyes were quite calm. “Will did that, ’cause you wouldn’t give him thirty dollars. I see him throw you ’crost the room. I hate him.”

Eve was wide-eyed now.

“You saw him?” she cried in alarm. Then she paused. Suddenly her tone changed. “Come here, Elia,” she said gently.

The boy came toward her and she took one of his hands and fondled it.

“How did you see him?” she went on.

“Through the window. I was waitin’ fer supper.” In spite of her caress the boy was sulky.

“Well, promise me you won’t tell anybody. You haven’t, have you?”

The boy shook his head.

“I won’t tell, sis, if you don’t want me. But–but why don’t you kill him?”

The three men were walking across the market-place.

“That’s Will Henderson’s work,” exclaimed Crombie with a fierce oath, nodding his head back at Eve’s house.

Jim and Peter offered no comment. Both had long since realized the fact.

“Gol durn him!” cried the fiery doctor. “He’ll kill her–if he don’t get killed instead.”

Jim said nothing. Eve’s passionate appeal to him was still ringing in his ears. It was Peter who answered.

“You goin’ to home, Doc? I’m goin’ down to the saloon–to fetch Will.”

“You are?” It was Jim’s startled inquiry. “What for?”

“I’m going to yarn some–mebbe. You get right out to the ranch, boy. An’ don’t get around here till I send you word.”

The doctor stood for a moment.

“He needs hangin’,” he declared. Then, in the cheery starlight, he looked into the two men’s faces and grinned. He had a great knowledge of the men of his village. “Well, so long,” he added, and abruptly strode away.

The moment he had gone Jim protested.

“Peter,” he said, “we’ve got to help him; we’ve got to get him clear of that saloon. It’s not because I like him or want–”

“Just so. But we got to help him. So, you get right out to the ranch, an’–leave him to me.”