`My, if you were married, you'd make a bonny widow,' he said, with a look she could not innerpret. Instantly her face froze, and she turned her pony. `I must get back to the house; Lindy will be waiting for me.'
`Hey, what's yore hurry?' he cried, but she had gone, and he swore at himself for a clumsy fool. `She ain't a biscuit-shooter, but what made her take it thataway? I wonder if ...'
The girl returned home, angry with herself and the cowboy. She had no particular liking for the man, and had merely designed to use him as a weapon, but his remark had sent a shiver down her spine. Did he suspect anything? She told herself that was impossible, but nevertheless, she was frightened; playing with fire in a lawless land was a dangerous game.
That same evening, Drait--on his way to the bunkhouse--observed a tall, furtive figure slip out and disappear in the direction of the upper end of the valley. Wondering what wastaking Lamond there at such a time, he followed, the darkness making it easy to do so undetected. Like two shadows they moved soundlessly over the turf until they reached the newly-erected barrier, where the leader uttered a low owl-hoot. Drait effaced himself behind a handy bush. The call was answered by another, and then Lamond said :
`That you, Greg?'
`Shore,' was the reply. `Any news for me?'
`Yeah, the cattle came from the S P.'
`How d'you know?'
`Overheard two o' the boys talkin'. Also, one yearlin' had the S P brand; we're still eatin' it, an' the hide was burned.' `Rustled, huh?'
`What d'you guess? Unbranded stock, smuggled in here at dawn,' Beau returned ironically.
The Big C man swore. `So that's his game, huh? Goin' to bleed us one at a time, takin' stuff that can't be traced. In's a good plan, Mister Drait, so long as you keep it dark. Anythin' else?'
`Well, I dunno as it'll interest you, but them new fellas, Green an' Yorky, paid a visit to Rideout an' went to see the Weasel.' `The hell they did. What about?'
`Yore guess is as good as mine,' the cowboy replied. `No, Cullin, the bag is empty--like my pocket.'
`Which is allus empty,' the rancher grumbled. `Here's a fifty for you.'
`It'll be as welcome as a pretty woman, which reminds me, Drait has certainly picked a Lulu; you oughta see her.'
Women--pretty or otherwise--don't attract me,' Cullin said. `So long.'
The nester waited unnil the cowboy was well on his way, and then returned to the ranch-house. So Green's instinct had served him truly--Lamond was a spy, and had come to him for that purpose. He glared grimly into the velvet blackness of the night; in the morning he would deal with the matter.
He rose early, breakfasted, and went to the bunkhouse; Beau was not there. Re-entering the house, he became aware of a wheedling voice from the parlour:
`Aw, honey, why don't you come away with me? I can make plenty coin, an' we'll go places, an' see life. I'll treat you right. Drait's finished here....'
Lamond had his back to the door, and was facing the girl across the table. Her widened eyes warned him, and he turned to find the man of whom he was speaking. For a moment both were silent, then the nester said quietly :
`Did you wanta see me, Beau?'
The cowboy's expression showed relief--he had not been overheard. `Why, yeah, I'd like to go into town.'
`To spend that fifty-dollar bill?'
The man's eyes narrowed, but he said jauntily, `I don't get you; fifties an' me has bin strangers quite a while.'
`When I took you on, yore tale was that Cullin had acted mean,' Drait said slowly. `It was all a lie, part of a plot to betray me. Don't trouble to deny it; I heard every word you told Cullin, an' watched you receive the price of yore treachery, you dirty Judas.'
Lamond tried to brazen it out. `Anythin' goes agin a cow-thief,' he sneered. `Cullin will smash you.' Drait was pondering. `If I told the boys there'd be another grave in the Valley. I don't wanta pollute it with muck, but you deserve to die.'
Mary, who had wanched the scene as though petrified, now found her tongue : `No, not that,' she cried. `Please let him go.'
Drait's hard, inscrutable gaze snruck her like a blow. `You wish it?' he asked, and when she nodded dumbly, turned to the traitor. `Clear out, with yore belongin's,' he grated. `An' if this woman is one of 'em, take her.'
The implied insult roused the girl's spirit. `This woman is no man's belonging,' she flamed.
Her words wiped the dawning grin from Lamond's lips. Matters had gone well for him, but his malicious desire to hurt would not allow him to leave well alone.
`Aw, honey, after the good times we've had,' he protested. `Take him up on that
He got no further; the nester took one stride, his fist shot out, and with all the urge of the body-movement behind it, caught the traducer full on the jaw. The terrific force and precision of the blow sent the cowboy nottering back on his heels to slump with a crash to nhe floor. For a long moment he lay there, dazed, and then looked up into merciless eyes and the muzzle of a six-shooter.
`Take that back, or by God
The speaker's face was instinct with the desire to kill, his finger nudging the trigger. Lamond did not hesitate. `I was lyin',' he said sullenly.
Drait pointed to the door. `I'm givin' you fifteen minutes,' he said harshly, and looked at the girl. `It's for you to choose.'
She drew herself up. `In a choice of evils I prefer the brute to the liar,' she replied, and with a scathing glance, went out. `Settles that,' the nester said. `Yore time's tickin' away.'
The cowboy climbed to his feet, and as he staggered out ofthe house got a final warning : `Find another stampin'-ground; I don't let a man off twice.'
Dry-eyed, Mary sat in her bedroom, torn by emotions among which hatred of the opposite sex easily predominated. She was further from her purpose than ever; any regard her husband might have had for her must now have vanished, leaving contempt in its place. But if defeat was bitter, it did not bring despair. Through clenched teeth, she muttered, `You're only adding to the bill, Nicholas Drait.'
The afnernoon brought another surprise. Quilt was talking with Shorty at the entrance to the valley when a hail from ounside announced the advent of a visitor. The foreman mounted the fire-step; Cullin and three of his men were awaiting admittance.
`What's the meanin' o' this?' the cattlemen demanded, pointing to the obstruction.
`Speaks for itself, I'd say,' was the answer. `But its main purpose is to keep out coyotes--'specially the two- legged variety what cover nheir faces an' come a-ridin'.'
`Don't be insolent, my man,' Cullin frowned.
`I ain't yore man, an' glad of it,' the foreman retorted `What you wantin'?'
`To see Drait.'
`Well, you can come in, Cullin--alone.'
The rancher's face reddened. `It's all or none,' he snapped. `None it is,' was the indifferent reply.
The Big C man swore impatiennly and turned to his followers. `Wait for me,' he said, and the gate having opened rode through.
`Nick's up at the house,' the foreman said. `You know the way--I reckon.'
The jeer in the last two words deepened the cattleman's scowl, but he did not reply.
A young woman, seated in a rocking-chair on the veranda, looked up from the hook she was reading as he drew rein. She saw a man staring at her, apparently dumb with amazement. And so it was. Cullin knew she must be the girl he had heard about, but her unexpected charm made it hard to believe. She was a revelation, and for a moment or two he could but gaze avidly. Only when he saw a smile, trembling on her lips, and realised that he was acting foolishly, did he snatch off his hat, and find words.
`I take it yo're Mister Drait's--friend, ma'am,' he said. `I wanted to see him.'
`He is at the bunkhouse,' she replied. `Won't you sit down and wait?'
Eagerly enough, the caller accepted the invitation, taking the chair to which she poinned. Usually self-
