He went up to his room, slammin' the door after him, an' Barbie got out a pony an' galloped off to the hills.

But the ol' man hadn't give up his project. He opened it again, an' was mighty crafty in the way he handled it, until finally he engineered it through. The' was purt' nigh forty of 'em who arrived to make merry over Thanksgivin'. Some of 'em came the day before, an' some of 'em two days before, an' some didn't arrive till the day itself, 'cause they had lived such a ways. The' was four women an' three unmarried ladies, countin' Miss Wiggins, the Spike Crick schoolmarm, who was a friendly little thing, though a shade too coltish for her years. Most o' the men was still liable to matrimony.

Jabez had an idee in his head, an' it didn't take no ferret to nose it out, neither. He was extra cordial to the store-keeper from Webb Station, an' a young Englishman by the name o' Hawthorn, finally settlin' down to Hawthorn an' playin' him wide open. We had a mighty sociable time, an' whenever we wasn't eatin' we played games. Barbie did just exactly what of Cast Steel played her to do. She was too red-blooded to let an outsider see 'at she'd been bad hurt; so she brazened up an' laughed an' danced an' sang, an' showed 'em games they hadn't never dreamt of before.

Most of 'em went home by Sunday night, but Hawthorn was prevailed upon to stay a week longer. He had a little ranch up in the hills, an'

seemed a well-meanin' sort of a feller, but slow. He belonged to the show-me club, an' had all his facical muscles spiked fast for fear they'd come loose an' grin before he saw the point himself.

Barbie see through the ol' man's lead, an' she took her revenge out on Hawthorn. She would lean forward an' hold his eye, an' say, in the sweetest voice you ever heard, "Oh. Mr. Hawthorn, I want to tell you somethin' that happened at school;" an' then she would start in an'

tell some long-winded tale 'at didn't have no more point than a mush room, an' as she told along she would call his attention to certain details as though they was goin' to figger in at the wind-up. When she would reach the end she would break out in a peal o' spontunious laughter; while he would look as if he had been lost in the heart of a great city without his name-plate on. Still, he had a certain breedy look about him, an' before the week was up she grew ashamed of her-self an' showed him a good time.

He was one o' these sad ones--sentimental an' romantic, with a bad case o' chronic lonesomeness; an' one twilight he told her a pathetic little love story about a girl back in England what had had sense enough to cut him out of her a.s.sets when he had trooped over to this country to punch a fortune out o' beef cattle. This had been about five years previous; but his heart still ached about it--though it hadn't cut his appet.i.te so you could notice. She treated him mighty gentle after this, an' when he started to ride away Jabez had the look of a man what had filled his hand.

In about a week he came over an' stayed for a couple o' days, an' he showed up at Christmas too; an' about once a week after that he'd drop in an' stay four or five days. Early in March he paid a visit to his own ranch to ready things up for spring, an' the day after he was gone Jabez sez to Barbie at dinner, "Now, Mr Hawthorn is a gentle man. He asked me for the honor of winnin' your hand in holy wedlock; an' I have give my consent."

Barbie went along eatin' her meal, an' purty soon Jabez sez, "Well, did you hear what I had to say?"

"Why, certainly I did," sez Barbie, calmly.

"What have you got to say about it?" sez he.

"Oh, nothin' in particular," sez she. "It was very polite in him to ask, an' very kind in you to give your consent; but I can't see as it interests me much. I can't see that he has any show of winnin' the hand. I promised that once, an' I ain't never got the promise back."

"Yes," snaps Jabez, "an' who did you promise it to? To a sneak who didn't care a pin for you but was only after my money. If he was honest why didn't he ask me, the same as Hawthorn did?"

"Of course I can't tell for sure," sez she, without raisin' her voice or changin' her expression, "but I thought at the time that it was the hand itself he wanted, an' not merely permission to set an' wish for it. In this life a man generally gets what he asks for. d.i.c.k got the hand."

"Seems to set a heap o' store by it," sez the ol' man, edgin' up his voice cruel an' tantalizin'. "Where's this d.i.c.k now; when did you last hear from this winner of hands?"

It was a fierce stab, an' Barbie went white as a sheet; but she faced him cool an' steady. "I ain't never heard from him since the day he left; but I trust him just the same. The hand will be his when he chooses to claim it; or if he never comes back at all--why the hand will still be his."

Cast Steel got on his hind legs an' struck the table till every dish on it jumped, an' I rose a bit myself; but Barbie only curled her little red lip. "Curse him," sez the ol' man, "curse him, wherever he is an'

wherever he goes. He has ruined my life an' he has ruined yours; an' if he ever steps foot on this ranch again, I'll--"

"Stop!" sez Barbie, springin' to her feet. "You give me more sadness every day I live than d.i.c.k has altogether; but for pity's sake don't bind yourself by a threat. Wait till he comes back, an' be free to meet him like a man, not like a thug pledged to murder."

"What do you know about him?" sez the ol' man, sittin' down. "For all you know, he may be robbin' trains for a livin'. It would be right in his line."

"For all I know, robbin' trains was where you got your start," sez Barbie; an' the of man's face turned gray an' his eyes stuck out like picture nails. He wasn't used to gettin' it quite so unpolluted, an' it gave him a nasty jar.

"How do you know 'at he ain't livin' with the woman he kept over at Laramie?" sez Jabez, tryin' to get the whip hand again. "How do you know he ain't married?"

"An' how do I know 'at you ever was married--" she stopped short, bitin' her lip an' turnin' red with shame. "I know it's well nigh hopeless to plead with a natural bully," she sez in a new tone; "but I do wish 'at you'd let me alone. You're destroyin' my respect for everything. I can't stand this much longer. If I can't live here in peace I'll have to hunt a new place to live; but as long as I do stay here you will have to act like a man--even if you can't act like a father. I think that in the future I shall take my meals alone."

"I do want to act like a father, little girl. That's what I want most of all. If you would only go back to the old times, if you would only get this sneak out of your head"--Jabez had started in gentle an'

repentent, but the minute he thought of d.i.c.k again he flared out white with rage--"an' you might just as well get him out of your head, 'cause he's the same as dead to you. I hate him! I hate every sneak; an' I hate every lie--spoken or lived, I hate a lie!"

The ol' man leaned forward, shaking with anger, an' Barbie got up like a queen an' walked out o' the room as though she was steppin' on the necks of the airy-stockracy. She went to the office, an' after a couple o' minutes I follered her, expectin' to cheer her up a bit; but she wasn't mournin' none; she was workin' like a steam engine, with her face cold an' white except for a little patch o' red in each cheek; an'

when she raised her eyes to mine I knew 'at the ol' man had gone a link too far.

After me and Barbie had taken up d.i.c.k's work we had divided his wages, an' she had a nice little roll of her own corded away. I didn't ask no questions, but it was plain as day that she had jerked up her tie-rope; an' the next time Cast Steel used the spurs he was goin' to be dumped off an' she was goin' to flit the trail for Never-again. I didn't blame her a mite; an' though I didn't pester her with queries nor smother her with advice nor sicken her with consolation nor madden her with pity, I did give her the man-to-man look, an' she knew 'at all she had to do was to issue orders.

It was that very afternoon that she started to correctin' my talk an'

stimulatin' my ambition, an' tellin' me about it never bein' too late to mend; an' while I couldn't quite decide just what she was drivin' at I saw that when she found she couldn't trust her cinches any longer we was both goin' to jump together. About five o'clock she put her hand on my shoulder an' sez: "We've been mighty good pals, Happy Hawkins; an'

while you ain't parlor-broke nor city-wise, any time 'at anybody counts on you they don't have to count over."

She walked softly out o' the office, an' I sat until it was long after dark. I couldn't believe 'at she was desperate enough to marry me; I could see the gulf between us plain enough, an' the higher you are the plainer you can see the difference; but I could see that unless Jabez changed his ways, why, the oldest man the' was couldn't tell how far Barbie would go. I didn't think a bit of myself, I can say that much; all I looked at was what would make her the happiest, an' she was welcome to take my life any way she wanted. If she chose to drag it out for fifty years, or if she selected that I cash it in the next hour, my only regret would be that I hadn't but one life to give her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE WAYS OF WOMANKIND

Things went along purty much the same after that; but I could see 'at the ol' man sensed a new tone in things, an' he begun to look agey. He was still gallin' on Barbie, but I couldn't help but feel mighty sorry for him. He had paid all them years 'at she was away at school, out o'

the joy of his own heart, lookin' for his pay in the time when she'd come back an' be his chum again, an' here they was with a wall of ice between 'em an' nairy a lovin' glance to melt it down.

The' come a warm spell toward the last o' the month; an' one evenin'

just as we was finishin' supper we heard a cry o' distress in a man's voice--an' the cry sounded like "Barbie!" I reckon all our hearts stood still, an' I reckon we all thought exactly the same thing. In about a minute the cry came again, an' the ol' man jumped to his feet an'

pulled his gun. "If that's Silver d.i.c.k," sez he, "I'll kill him."

Barbie had also sprung up, an' she looked him square in the eyes. "If you harm a hair of his head I'll--I'll do some shootin' myself."

She pulled a little gun out of her bosom, an' we all stood quiet for a moment. It was easy to see 'at she wasn't bluffin': but I'm purty sure that Jabez an' I had different idees as to what she meant. Jabez thought she meant him self; but he hadn't got the name o' Cast Steel for nothin', an' a sort of a grim smile crept onto his face. We stood still for a moment, an' then we went out together, an' before long we heard the sound again--a long, waverin', ghostly call in the gatherin'

twilight.

We hurried along, an' purty soon we saw a man lyin' across the trail.

The ol' man held his gun in his hand, an' so did Barbie, while I walked a step behind doin' a heap o' thinkin'. If the ol' man killed d.i.c.k, Barbie would shoot herself; if any one stopped the ol' man that one would take on weight exceedin' fast, unless he crippled the of man first. I finally made up my mind that I would try to overpower the ol'

man without hurtin' him, an' ol' Cast Steel was built like a grizzly. I didn't enjoy that walk as much as some I've took. When we got close to the figger lyin' in the trail we all walked a little crouchy. It looked quite a little like d.i.c.k; but when we saw it wasn't nothin' but that fool Hawthorn with a busted leg, we three looked like the reception committee of the Foolish Society.

I hustled back an' got Hanson an' a couple o' the boys and an ol' door, an' we fetched him home an' put him to bed an' sent for the doctor--an'

that was the worst luck that ever happened to ol' d.i.c.k. You know how a woman is with anything hurt or sick; they're the same the world over. A right strickly wise married man would have everything broke except his pocket-book, an' then he'd be sure o' lots of pettin'. They allus want to spoil a feller when he's on the flat of his back. When he's walkin'

around on his own feet all he needs to do is to express a desire, an'

they vetoe it on general principles, an' after they've talked themselves dry they send out an' get the preacher to finish the job; but when that same vile speciment of masculine humanity gets some of his runnin' gear damaged, why they bed him on rose leaves, feed him on honey, an', good or bad, they give him whatever he wants. This particular feller wanted Barbie, an' Barbie was mighty gentle with him.

Sometimes it seems to me that the only men who can understand a woman are the men who work a lot with the dumb creatures. Take an animal now, wild or tame, an' it hates to confess a weakness; it'll just go on head up an' eyes flashin' till it drops in its tracks--so will a woman. Take the fiercest female animal the' is, an' it's all mother on the inside.

Why, they're everlastin'ly adoptin' somethin' 'at don't rightly belong to 'em. Sometimes they go to work an' adopt a little straggler that in a regular way is their daily food; an' it ain't no step-mother affair neither, it 's the real thing.

The wild animals are the best to study, 'cause the tame ones have been some spoiled by a.s.sociatin' with man. Well, the wild animals spend all their spare time dressin' up an' cleanin' their clothes, an' when it ain't absolutely necessary they hate to get a toe wet; but when it comes to love or duty, why fire, water, nor the fear o' man ain't goin'

to stop 'em; so again I sez 'at the man what can savvy the wild animals can get purty nigh within hailin' distance of woman, an' that's gettin'

close; but you want to remember this, no animal never tells the truth to an outsider. The principle part o' their life is spent in throwin'

folks off their trail, an' they allus make their lairs in the most secret places. If a feller ever gets to know 'em even a little he has to be mighty patient an' mighty careful, an' above all things, he mustn't never get the idee that he knows every last thing about 'em the' is to know, 'cause no man never knows that. Some men try to estimate a woman by their own earthy way o' doin' things. 'T would be just as reasonable for a man who was purty wise to the ways of a pug-dog to get inflated with the idee that he had a natural talent for hivin' grizzly bears.

But to get back to my tale: this Englishman had fallen on his feet all right, even if the connection to one of 'em was busted up a bit. I was around 'em a good bit, bein' forced to consult with Barbie about things, an' I was able to piece out the method he was usin'. He wasn't such a fool as he looked, by consid'able many rods. He talked a heap about the sacrifice he had made for the girl back in England, an' how much he had loved her an' how much Barbie had comforted him, although even yet he could not forget her. Once Barbie asked him what her name was. For a moment he didn't answer, an' then he sez in a low voice, Alice LeMoyne. I lifted my face quick an' gave him a look, but he wasn't noticin' me. I didn't say anything; but I couldn't help wonderin' if this Alice LeMoyne had anything to do with the dancer what had married into the Clarenden family, an' then died. It was an odd name, but still I didn't reckon the' was a patent on it.

Finally I could tell by their talk that Barbie had told him about d.i.c.k, an' then I knew the jig was about up. He allus spoke o' d.i.c.k in a gentle, soothin' way, makin' every excuse for him; an' this made her think him a n.o.ble-minded feller! an' the most natural outcome was for 'm to just bunch their woes an' cling together for comfort. She allus used to sit by his side in the twilight, singin' sorrowful love songs to him, an' once I caught him holdin' her hand. You see she was just naturally hungry for somethin' to pet an' care for; luck offered a spavined Englishman, an' she was tryin' to make the best of it.