"I'm a bad neighbor, Miss Stewart," he disdained. "Our friend here, Mrs.

Reynolds, you see, is full of flattery."

"I don't believe so, Mr. Baptiste," she defended, glad to be given an opportunity to speak. "We have just become acquainted, but papa has told me of her, and the family, and I'm sure we will be the best of friends, won't we?" she ended with her eyes upon Mrs. Reynolds.

"Bless you, yes! Who could keep from liking you?" whereupon she caught Agnes close and kissed her impulsively.

"Oh, say, now," cried Baptiste, and then stopped.

"You're not a woman," laughed Mrs. Reynolds, "but you understand," she added reprovingly. Suddenly her face lit up with a new thought, and the usual smiling gave way to seriousness, as she cried:

"By the way, Jean. We hear that you are going to hire a man this spring, and that reminds me that Miss Stewart's father has two boys--her brothers--whom he has not work enough nor horses enough to use, so he wishes to hire one out." She paused to observe Agnes, who had also become serious and was looking up at her.

At this point she turned to Baptiste, and with a slight hesitation, she said:

"Do you really wish to hire a man--Mr.--a--Mr. Baptiste?" Saying it had heightened her color, and the anxiety in her tone caused her to appear more serious. She had turned her eyes up to his and he was for the instant captivated again with the thought that she was beautiful. His answer, however, was calm.

"I must have a man," he acknowledged. "I have more work than I can do alone."

"Why, papa wishes to hire Bill--" It was natural to say Bill because it was Bill they always hired, although George was the older; but since we know why George was never offered, we return to her. "I should say William," she corrected awkwardly, and with an effort she cast it out of her mind and went on: "So if--if you think you could--a--use him, or would care to give him the job," she was annoyed with the fact that Bill was halfwitted, and it confused her, which explains the slight catches in her voice. But bravely she continued, "That is, if you have not already given some one else the job, you could speak to papa, and he would be pleased, I'm sure." She ended with evident relief; but the thought that had confused her, being still in her mind, her face was dark with a confusion that he did not understand.

Hoping to relieve the annoyance he could see, although not understanding the cause of it, he spoke up quickly.

"I have not hired a man, and have no other in sight; so your suggestion, Miss, regarding your brother meets with my favor. I will endeavor therefore, to see your father today if possible, if not, later, and discuss the matter pro and con."

He had made it so easy for her, and she was overly gracious as she attempted to have him understand in some manner that her brother was afflicted. So her effort this time was a bit braver, notwithstanding as anxious, however, as before.

"Oh, papa will be glad to have my brother work for you, and I wish you would--would please not hire any other until you have talked with him."

She paused again as if to gather courage for the final drive.

"You will find my brother faithful, and honest, and a good worker; but--but--" it seemed that she could not avoid the break in her voice when she came to this all embarrassing point, "but sometimes--he--he makes mistakes. He is a little awkward, a little bunglesome in starting, but if you would--could exercise just a little patience for a few days--a day, I am sure he would please you." It was out at last. She was sure he would understand. It had cost her such an effort to try to make it plain without just coming out and saying he was halfwitted. She was not aware that in concluding she had done so appealingly. He had observed it and his man's heart went out to her in her distress. He remembered then too, although he had on their first meeting forgotten that he had been told all about her brothers, and had also heard of her.

"You need have no fear there, Miss Stewart," he wilfully lied. "I am the most patient man in the world." He wondered then at himself, that he could lie so easily. His one great failing was his impatience, and he knew it. Because he did and felt that he tried to crush it, was his redeeming feature in this respect. But the words had lightened her burden, and there was heightening of her color, as she spoke now with unfeigned delight:

"Oh, that is indeed kind of you. I am so glad to hear you say so. Bill is a good hand--everybody likes him after he has worked a while. It is because he is a little awkward and forgetful in the beginning that worries my father and me. So I'm glad you know now and will not be impatient."

In truth while she did not know it, Jean was pleased with the prospect.

He had not lived two years in the country, the new country, without having experienced the difficulty that comes with the usual hired man.

The class of men, with the exception of a homesteader, who came to the country for work usually fell into the pastime of gambling and drinking which seemed to be contagious, and many were the griefs they gave those by whom they were employed. And Jean Baptiste, now that she had made it plain regarding her brother, had something to say himself.

"There is one little thing I should like to mention, Miss Stewart," he said with apparent seriousness. She caught her breath with renewed anxiety as she returned his look. In the next instant she was relieved, however, as he said: "You understand that I am baching, a bachelor, and the fare of bachelors is, I trust you will appreciate, not always the best." He paused as he thought of how she must feel after having seen the way he kept his house, and hoped that she could overlook the condition in which she knew he kept it. But if he was embarrassed at the thought of it, it was not so with her. For her sympathy went out to him.

She was conscious of how inconvenient it must be to bach, to live alone as he was doing, and to work so hard.

"It is not always to hired men's liking to forego the meals that only women can prepare, and for that reason it is sometimes difficult for us to keep men."

"Oh, you will not have to worry as to that, Mr. Baptiste," she assured him pleasantly. She caught her breath with something joyous apparently as she turned to him. "You see, we live almost directly between your two places, and my brother can stay home and save you that trouble and bother." She was glad that she could be of assistance to him in some way, though it be indirectly. With sudden impulse, she turned to Mrs.

Reynolds who had not interrupted:

"It will be nice, now, won't it?"

"Just dandy," the other agreed readily. "I am so glad we all three met here," she went on. "In meeting we have fortunately been of some service to each other. You will find Mr. Baptiste a fine fellow to work for. We let our boys go over and help him out when he's pushed, and we know he appreciates it to the fullest." She halted, turned now mischievously to Baptiste and cried:

"We are always after Jean that he should marry. Why, just think what a good husband he would make some nice girl." She had found her topic, had Mrs. Reynolds. Of all topics, she preferred to jolly the single with getting married to anything else, so she went on with delight.

"He goes off down to Chicago every winter and we wait to see the girl when he returns, but always he disappoints us." She affected a frown a moment before resuming: "It is certainly too bad that some good girl must do without a home and the happiness that is due her, while he lives there alone, having no comfort but what he gets when he goes visiting."

She affected to appear serious and to have him feel it, while he could do nothing but grin awkwardly.

"Oh, Mrs. Reynolds, you're hard on a fellow. My! Give him a chance. It takes two to make a bargain. I can't marry myself." He caught the eyes of Agnes who was enjoying his tender expression. Indeed the subject appealed to him, and he had found it to his liking. She blushed. She enjoyed the humor.

"I suspect Mrs. Reynolds speaks the truth," she said with affected seriousness, but found it impossible to down the color in her flaming cheeks nevertheless.

"Oh, but you two can jolly a fellow." He became serious now as he went on: "But it isn't fair. There is no girl back in Chicago; there is no girl anywhere for me." He was successful in his affectation of self pity, and her feelings went out to him in her words that followed:

"Now that is indeed, too bad, for him, Mrs. Reynolds, isn't it? Perhaps he is telling the truth. The girls in Chicago do not always understand the life out here, and cannot make one feel very much encouraged." She wondered at her own words. But she went on nevertheless. "Even back in Indiana they do not understand the West. They are--seem to be, so narrow, they feel that they are living in the only place of civilization on earth." Her logical statement took away the joke. They became serious. The store was filling and the crowd was pushing. So they parted.

A few minutes later as Baptiste passed down the street, he saw Peter Kaden coming from the commissioners' office. Across the way he observed Barr and Syfe stop and exchange a few words. The next moment they went their two ways while he stood looking after them.

CHAPTER IX

"CHRISTINE, CHRISTINE!"

One week from the day Peter Kaden made proof at Gregory on the homestead he held, the court record showed that he had transferred the same to some unknown person. In the course of events it was not noticed by the masses. It was because Jean Baptiste was expecting something of the kind that he happened to observe the record of the transfer in the following week's issue of the paper. He couldn't get the incident out of his mind, and he found his eyes wandering time and again in the direction of the house of Augustus M. Barr in the days that followed.

From what he had gleaned from the papers, he was sure that something sinister was to occur in that new land soon. He tried in vain to formulate some plan of action--rather, some plan of prevention. But the plot, the intrigue, or whatever it may be called, was deep. It had taken root before either had ever seen the country they now called home. And because of its intricate nature, he could formulate no plan toward combatting the thing he felt positively in his veins was to take place.

Over the hill two miles and more the claim shack of Peter Kaden could not be seen. But he could always feel where it was and the events that went on therein. This healthy, but sad, forlorn German had aroused his sympathy, and always when he thought of him, strangely he thought of Christine.

The days passed slowly and things went on as usual. He saw Barr occasionally and as often saw the dark Syfe. He read as was his wont, and then one evening when his few chores were done, he had a desire to walk. He drew on his overcoat, and, taking a bucket, he walked slowly down the slope that led up to his house, to the well a quarter mile distant. He could never after account for the strange feeling that came and went as he ambled toward the well. He reached it in due time, filled his bucket, and was in the act of returning when out of the night he caught the unmistakable sound of horses' hoofs. Some one on horseback was coming. He set the bucket down and bent his ears more keenly to hear the sound.

Yes, they were hoof beats, an unusual clatter. He gave a start. Only one horse in the neighborhood made such a noise with the hoofs when moving, for he had heard the same before, and that horse belonged to A.M. Barr, and was a pacer. Christine had use to ride him. And when he recalled it, he became curious. Christine was not there, he knew, unless she had come that day, which was not likely.... Then _who rode the horse_? He had never seen Barr on horseback.... They were coming from about where Barr's house stood, coming in his direction along the road. He estimated at that moment they must be about a quarter of a mile away. He listened intently. Onward they came, drawing closer all the while. He got an inspiration. Why should he be seen? He moved back from the road some distance. There was no moon and the night was dark, but the stars filled the night air with a dim ray. He lay upon the ground as the horseman drew nearer. Presently out of the shadow he caught the dim outline of the rider. He saw that a heavy ulster was worn, and the collar of the same was around the rider's neck, almost concealing the head; but he recognized the rider as A.M. Barr.

"Now where can he be going," he muttered to himself, standing erect as he listened to the hoof beats on the road below. He pondered briefly.

"Why does he never ride in the daytime?" From down the road the sound of hoof beats continued. And then Baptiste was again inspired.

"Kaden!" he cried, and fell into deep thought.

At his left was a small creek, usually dry. This stream led in an angling direction down toward the larger stream south of the town. It led directly toward the claim of Peter Kaden, although the homestead lay beyond the creek. By following it, one could reach Kaden's house in about two-thirds the distance if going by trail.

A few minutes later Jean Baptiste was speedily following the route that led to the creek. He paused at intervals and upon listening could hear the hoof beats along the trail in the inevitable direction. He reached the creek in a short time, found his way across it, and once on the other side, he hurried through a school section to Kaden's cabin that was joined with this on the south. He crossed the school section quickly, and in the night air he could smell, and presently came to see, the smoke curling from the chimney. He approached the house cautiously.

He was glad that poor Kaden didn't keep a dog. When he had drawn close enough to distinguish the objects before him, he saw Barr's horse tied out of the wind, on the south side of the little barn. He looked closer and observed another near. He reckoned that one to be Syfe's. "So the triangle is forming," he muttered.

He went up to the house noiselessly. He passed around its dark side to where he saw light emanating from the small window. He peered cautiously through it. Sitting on the side of the bed, Kaden's face met his gaze.

He regarded it briefly before seeking out the others. Never, he felt, if he lived a hundred years would he ever forget the expression of agony that face wore! Upon its usual roundness, perceptible lines had formed; in the light of the dim lamp he caught the darkness about the eyes, the skin under almost sagging and swollen. He permitted his gaze to drift further, and to take in the proportions of the room.

On a stool near sat Syfe, the Jew. He wore his overcoat. Indeed, Baptiste could not recall having ever seen him without it about him; also he wore his thick, dark cap. His little mustache stood out over the small mouth, between the lips of which reposed the usual cigarette. He was drawing away easily at this, while his ears appeared to be attentive to what was going on. He was listening to Barr, who stood in the center of the room, talking in much excitement, making gestures; while he could see the agonized Kaden protesting. He could not catch all that was being said, but some of it. Barr, in particular, he observed, while speaking forcibly, was nevertheless controlled. It was Kaden whose voice reached his ears more often on the outside.