heartened him, and he tried to gathen together the shattered fragments of his dignity.
'As sheriff o' thisyer town--' he began.
'Yo're a hopeless failure--yu needn't tell us,' Severn interposed. 'Now, see here, sheriff. Our distinguished citizen, Mister Bartholomew, has joined us. He don't know nothin' o' this ruckus, o' course. S'pose yu ask his opinion.'
By this time Bartholomew had elbowed his way through the company, and Severn had not failed to note his fleeting expressionofchagrin when he saw Devint's body, nor the poisonous flashofhatred directed at Larry. But he instantly got controlofhis features again, and listened unmoved while the sheriff, anxious to transfer his burden of responsibility, related the facts. He saw at once the position into which Severn had so astutely jockeyed him. As a friendofPhil Masters he could not condemn the action of her defender. He did not hesitate.
'The skunk deserved to die, an' if this fella hadn't rubbed him out I'd 'a' done it myself,' he said, with a savage emphasis which convinced many of his hearers. 'If there's a man here who ain't satisfied that Devint was lyin', p'raps he'll step forward.' No one responding to the invitation, he turned to the sheriff. 'Yu say it was an even break?'
'I didn't see the scrap, but I'm told so,' Tyler had to admit.
'There ain't nothin' to do then,' the rancher said, and with a sneer to Severn, 'Yu can take yore man away, but he'd better watch out; mebbe he won't be so lucky next time.'
'I reckon the Lazy M can take care of itself,' the foreman told him.
With the help of Ridge and his two riders, the wounded man was conveyed to the ranch. This time Phil, hearing them arrive, thrust aside her scruples and went to meet them. At the sightofLarry held on his horse by twoofthe others, her heart seemed to turn over.
'What is the matter?' she asked.
'Barton had a run-in with Devint, an' is drilled through the shoulder--nothin' serious,' Severn assured her.
'And Devint?'
'Cashed,' was the brief reply.
The girl shuddered and asked no more. Larry had killed a man. Barton was carried to the ranch-house and installed in Philip Master's bed. As she explained to Severn, it would be easier for Dinah and herself to tend him there than in the bunkhouse. The invalid himself, though weak and in pain, made lightofhis injury. What hurt him much more was the cold and alof attitudeofthe girl. When his wound had been re-dressed, he seized a moment when he was alone with her.
'I'm right distressed to give yu all this trouble,' he said. 'Yu oughta let the boys look after me.'
She shook her head, and then, 'Oh, why did you do it? To cold-bloodedly go in search of a fellow-creature to kill him; it is horrible.'
She saw his pale face flush and the lines about his mouth harden.
'Devint's kind ain't fellow-creatures no more than a rattler is,' he said slowly. 'Let me tell yu somethin' about him. He an' some others once hanged an old man on a charge they knew he was innocent f. Devint put the noose round his neck, an' because he spoke, struck him in the face. That's a true story.'
'But why should you punish him--there's a law to do that,' she protested.
'What I've told yu happened ten years ago; the law is a mite slow,' he said, and after a pause, 'I would do the same again.'
She knew that he was right; but she would not admit it. She knew, too, that had anyone but Larry done the killing it would not have affected her so deeply, but this again she would not admit, even to herself.
It was not until the following morning that she heard the real story of the shooting. She had ridden in to Hope, and had justdismounted in frontofCallahan's store when Bartholomew came along. His face grew darker at the sightofher.
''Lo, Phil,' he said. 'Reckon yu'll allow now that I was right. Yu see what's come o' yore foolishness, ridin' around with a hand; one man dead an' another perforated.'
'But that had nothing to do with it,' she cried.
'It had everythin' to do with it,' Bartholomew said angrily. 'Devint's in the `Come Again' shootin' off his mouth 'bout seein' yu an' that pup kissin' an' cuddlin' in Snake Coulee, an' Barton tells him he is a liar.'
Phil's heart sang within her. Larry had fought for her good name; he was not a cold-blooded slayer.
'I got there too late, or I'd 'a' wiped the houn' out myself,' the Bar B owner went on. 'O' course I don't believe it, but it ain't a very nice tale for a fella to hear about his future wife.'
The girl looked up quickly. 'I am not that, Mr. Bartholomew,' she said. 'If I have ever given you any reason to think I might be, I am sorry. You must forget it.'
Her tone was cold and decisive, and a spasm of rage contracted the rancher's features. He knew that she meant every word, but he would not allow himself to think so. With an effort he forced a smile.
'Aw, don't get sore at me, Phil,' he said placatingly. 'I haven't got the trick o' makin' pretty speeches, but I want yu, girl, an' I ain't takin' that as yore final answer.'
'I shall not change,' she said quietly, and walked away.
Bartholomew stared after her for a moment, his rage again uppermost, and then turned and strode up the street. Blind with passion, he blundered into a pedestrian coming the other way, and with an oath and a sweepofhis fist, hurled him from the board sidewalk into the dusty roadway. The victimofhis wrath, a smallish man who wore a stubbleofgrey beard and a patch over one eye, picked himself up and glared malevolently. He was wearing a gun, and Phil fully expected to see the bully shot down, but with a rumbled threat the stranger went on his way, directing a curious glance at the girl as he passed her.
Chapter XIII
THE discoveryofPhil's real stateofmind regarding him was a bitter blow to Bartholomew's hopes and his vanity. So that for the restofthe day his outfit had a trying time, and when Penton dropped in at the Bar B ranch- house in the evening, he found the owner in anything but a pleasant frame of mind. The foreman, who had not seen him for twenty-four hours, came to the point at once.
'What's wrong?' he asked.
'Damn near everythin',' was the surly reply. 'Heard about Devint?'
'I just met up with him,' Penton said.
'What? Devint's dead. Yu ain't drunk are yu?' snapped he rancher.
'Not so as yu'd notice it,' Penton told him. 'Like I said, I met up with Devint--he's hangin' on the tree by Forby's shack, an' there's a fourth notch cut.'
Bartholomew glared at him. 'Severn's still playin' thatofof game, is he?' he growled.
'Yu oughta done what I said an' burnped Severn off right away,' Penton told him. 'The girl would 'a' found some means o' gettin' round Embley. It ain't too late now--she'd soon forget, him.'
'Damnation! She don't care no more for Severn than a cat likes swimmin',' Bart burst out. 'It's that cursed pup what downed Devint.'
He related his meeting with Phil in the morning.
'So she gave you the frozen mitt, eh?' Penton said. 'That's a hoss with a different brand, ain't it? I reckon yu gotta say farewell to the Lazy M, Bart, an' be content to be second-best man at the weddin'.'
The big man looked at the bitter, sarcastic faceofthe speaker, and his own grew blacker.
'I ain't feelin' funny, Penton,' he warned.
'I don't see nothin' humorous about it my own self,' his foreman rejoined. 'I thought mebbe I was expressin' yore own sentiments, though I gotta admit I ain't ever found yu a quitter before.'
'An' I don't aim to be now,' the Bar B owner said harshly. 'What I go after, I get, come hell or high water. It ain't goin' to be as easy as I hoped, that's all. We gotta take chances.'
'Well, we've done that afore an' got away with it,' Penton allowed. 'No means o' gettin' Embley on our side, I s'pose?' Bartholomew's smile was satanic. 'Yu must be a blighted thought-reader, Pent,' he said. 'Yes, there is a way, but I ain't got it worked out yet. For now, just keep on puttin' it about that Severn likely rubbed out Masters.'
Penton nodded. 'Can't pin Stevens on him too, eh?' he asked.
'It wouldn't do,' Bart said. 'He could easy prove he warn't in the neighbourhood then.'
