The store-keeper came in, and his orders given, the rancher rejoined the boy. A little way along the street they met Fox-well, who stopped, his beady eyes alight with malice.
''Lo, Dover, gittin' ready to quit the Circle Dot,' was his greeting.
Dan suppressed a start. 'Any reason why I should?' he asked.
'Well, everybody knows yore of man was up to his neck in debt, an' it's said now that the bank won't give you no more rope,' came the insolent answer.
'Lies,' Dan replied airily. 'Big, fat lies which no respectable representative o' the Law should be passin' on. Lemme see, Sheriff, how long have you managed to hold office?'
The officer's not too acute intellect missed the innuendo. 'Goin' on four year,' he said, even rather pridefully.
'Yeah, I remember; it was you who found the murdered man on the Cloudy trail--the man who had neither money nor papers on him, not even a letter addressed to someone else, huh?'
The sheriff's gaze shifted uneasily. 'That's so; the fella what downed him took everythin'.'
'I don't doubt it.' Again the implication passed unobserved. 'A month or two later you were elected by a small margin, one provided--so some folks said--by the Wagon-wheel outfit because you had done Trenton a considerable service.'
'What are you drivin' at?' Foxwell cried, his face crimson.
'Lies, Sheriff, big, fat lies like I was tellin' you about,' Dan retorted, and then, 'God Almighty!'
They were standing a few yards from the Parlour Saloon. On the opposite sidewalk, Miss Trenton had apparently made up her mind to brave the terrors of the rutted and hoof-torn strip which was Rainbow's only thoroughfare; just past this point, the street took one of its uncertain turns. She was halfway across when, with a stertorous bellow, six wild steers, enveloped in a cloud of dust, charged down upon her. The girl saw the cruel branching horns, fierce eyes, and lolling tongues, and made a despairing effort to hurry. But this only led to disaster; her feet slipped in the powdery sand and she fell to her knees right in the path of the infuriated animals, behind whom now appeared a perspiring horseman, shouting and gesticulating.
Leaving the pop-eyed sheriff, Dover sprinted along the sidewalk, dragged out his revolver, and fired at the leader, a little in front of the herd. The brute hesitated, stumbled and went down, only a yard from where the girl lay. The fall of the foremost halted the others, but Dan knew it would be only momentary. Jumping into the road, he floundered to the spot, and raised the now senseless form. A man on foot has no terrors for range cattle, and the sight of him put them inmotion again. By a superhuman effort, he regained the sidewalk with his burden; a grazed arm and a ripped shirtsleeve from a slashing, needle-pointed horn was the only damage.
'Close work, boy,' Bowdyr said. He had come out to see what the noise was about. 'Bring her into my place.'
'Ain't hurt, is she?' the sheriff enquired anxiously.
'I guess not.' Dan replied. 'If you wanta do Zeb another service, go an' ask that butcher's lout what he means by bringin' cows through the town an' drivin' 'em into a frenzy with his fool yellin'; must be mad or drunk.' He caught the saloon-keeper's enigmatic expression, and added, 'Might 'a' killed the pair of us.' The sheriff went; he did not enjoy the company of Mister Dover in this mood.
When Miss Trenton returned to the world again, she was sitting in a strange room, with a rugged but kindly- faced man bending over her, glass in hand.
'Drink this, ma'am,' he said. 'It's good stuff, an' will put new life into you.
She obeyed, and the strong spirit--though it made her cough--sent the blood racing through her veins. She looked curiously at her surroundings.
'What place is this?' she asked.
'The Parlour Saloon an' I'm Ben Bowdyr, the proprietor,' he explained. 'Dan's gone for Doc Malachi, an' to git hisself another shirt.'
'Is Mister Dover hurt?'
'Shore, no, just a spoilt garment,' Ben assured her. 'Ah, here's the Doc.'
Malachi hurried in, the concern on his face giving way to relief when he saw the patient. 'You are not harmed, Miss Trenton?'
'I foolishly fainted,' she replied. 'Mister Bowdyr kindly gave me some--medicine, and I am quite well again.'
'Medicine?' Malachi echoed. He picked up the glass she had used, sniffed, glanced at the saloon-keeper, who had retired to his bar, and smiled whimsically. 'Then Ben has done all that is necessary and robbed me of a case. And from the way Dover carried on, I really thought it was a serious one.'
'It would have been but for his courage and prompt action,' she said soberly. 'He also escaped injury I am told.'
'Yes, these cattlemen are tough animals--very discouraging to a doctor,' he mourned. 'Fortunately they are quarrelsome. But you have made a conquest, Miss Trenton.' He saw the colour creep into her cheeks. 'That brandy--I should say, medicine--was laid down by Ben's grandfather, 'way back in Virginia, in the days when people of position had cellars, and he wouldn't take fifty dollars a bottle for it.'
Her gaze went to the saloon-keeper. 'He was most kind,' she murmured.
'The first thing I learned out here was not to judge by appearances. Ben is a fine fellow, and one day, when settlements like Rainbow become cities, such men will be sent to Congress, and have a word to say, not only in the affairs of our country, but of the whole world.'
'Still your dream,' she smiled. 'Why, isn't that Yorky?' Malachi stared as the boy came to them. 'By all that's wonderful, it is.'
'I'm hopin' yer ain't hurt much, ma'am,' Yorky said. 'I seen it all an' shore t'ought yer was a goner.'
'Thanks to Mister Dover, I am not a--goner,' she smiled. 'And how are you, Yorky?'
'Fine, an' I'm on th' pay-roll,' he blurted out. 'S'cuse me, I got a message for Ben.'
'An amazing improvement,' she said. 'There's a case to make you proud of your profession.'
'Not my work,' he told her. 'I prescribed a cessation of nicotine poisoning and fresh air--'
'The breath of the pines,' she murmured.
'Precisely, but I didn't put it so prettily.'
'No, I remember it was his friend, Jim.'
'Really? After all, why shouldn't a puncher be poetical--he's at grips with Nature all day long. Anyway, Green saved that lad's life, by supplying the missing ingredient in my treatment.' Her look was a question. 'Yorky had lost his self-respect, and lacking that, my dear lady, a human being is--finished; he cannot fight disease.' Then, in a flash, his gravity was merged in a laugh, as he added, 'I should be a preacher.'
She was about to reply when Dover came in, and before the door swung to again, she saw Miss Maitland pass.
'I must be going,' Malachi said rather hurriedly, and ashe departed spoke in an undertone to the rancher, 'Not leaving town yet, are you?'
'I'll be here for a while,' Dan replied, and stepped to where the girl was seated. 'Doc tells me you ain't injured. I'm glad. Is there anythin' else I can do?'
His manner was stiff and distant, and she suddenly comprehended that the red-haired youth who so impulsively rushed to rescue her from the quicksand had--short as the time was--become a man. Grief and responsibility had brought about the transformation.
'I think you have done enough, and more,' she replied. 'It is hard to find words to express my thanks.'
'Then don't try,' he said bluntly. 'I don't want 'em, an' if it will ease yore mind, I would 'a' done just the same for any tramp in the town.'
'Very well, but you cannot prevent me feeling grateful,' she said. 'you risked your life.'
'Which is no more than I've done many times for one o' my father's steers,' he told her. 'I'm not meanin' to be rude, Miss Trenton, but to be forced to help one o' yore family is plain hell to me.'
'I understand,' she said coldly. 'But you must remember that to be forced to accept your help is also plain hell to my family.'
With a slight inclination of her proud little head, and a smile of thanks to the saloon-keeper, she walked out.
