He reached the saloon as...o...b..ien was in the act of turning out the two swing lamps. Already one of them was turned low, and the saloonkeeper, with distended cheeks, was in the act of putting an end to its flickering life when Bill flung open the door.

O'Brien turned abruptly. He turned with that air which is never far from his cla.s.s, living on the fringe of civilization. His whole look, his att.i.tude, was a truculent demand, and had it found its equivalent in words he would have asked sharply: "What in h.e.l.l d'you want here?"

But the significance of his att.i.tude quite pa.s.sed Big Brother Bill by.

Had he understood it, it would have made no difference to him whatever. But that was his way. He never saw much more than a single purpose ahead of him, and possessed an indestructible conviction of his ability to carry it out, even in the face of superlative or even overwhelming odds.

He walked into the meanly lighted saloon, while O'Brien reluctantly turned up the light again. For a moment the saloonkeeper's shrewd eyes surveyed the newcomer, and, as they did so, a quiet, derisive contempt slowly curled his thin lips.

"Wal?" he inquired, in the harsh drawl Bill was beginning to get accustomed to since he had traveled so far from his eastern home.

Bill laughed. He always seemed ready to laugh.

"Guess I don't seem to have come along at the best time," he said, glancing at the lamp above O'Brien. "Say, I'm sorry to have troubled you. I thought maybe my brother was down here. I'm Bill Bryant, and I'm looking for Charlie--my brother. Has--has he been along here to-night?"

The man's big blue eyes glanced swiftly around the squalid, empty interior. It was the first time he had been inside a western saloon of this cla.s.s, and he was interested.

Meanwhile O'Brien had taken him in from head to foot, and the growing smile in his eyes expressed his opinion of what he beheld.

"You're Charlie Bryant's brother, eh?" he said contemplatively. "Guess I sure heard you was around. Wal, since you're lookin' fer Charlie, you'd better go lookin' a bit farther. He was around, but he's quit half an hour since. I'd surely say ef you ain't built in the natur' of a cat, or you ain't a walkin' microscope, you best wait till daylight to find Charlie. There's more folks than you'd like to find Charlie at night, but most of 'em ain't gifted with second sight. Say, seein'

you're his brother, an' ain't one of them other folk, I'll admit you're more likely to find him somewhere around the old pine just now than anywhere else. And, likewise, seein' you're his brother, you'd better not open your face wider than Providence makes necessary--till you've found him."

O'Brien's manner rather pleased the simple easterner, for his unspoken contempt was beyond the reach of the latter's understanding. He smiled his perfect amiability.

"Thanks," he cried readily. "I've got to go that way back, so I'll chase around there." He half turned away, as though about to depart, but turned again immediately. "It's that pine up on the side of the valley, isn't it?" he questioned doubtfully.

"There's only one pine in this valley--yes."

O'Brien's hand was again raised toward the lamp.

"I see." Bill nodded. Then, "What's he doing there?" he asked sharply.

A thought had occurred to him. It was one which contained a faint suspicion.

The other looked him squarely in the eyes. Then a sort of voiceless chuckle shook his broad shoulders.

"Doin'? Wal, I guess he ain't sparkin' any lady friend, and I don't calc'late he's holdin' any conversazione with Fyles and his crew."

O'Brien's amus.e.m.e.nt had spread to his features, and Bill found himself wondering as to what internal trouble he was suffering from. "Charlie Bryant, bein' a rancher, guess he's roundin' up a bunch of 'strays.'

Y'see, he's got a few greenback stock he's mighty pertickler about.

They was last seen around that pine."

Bill stared.

"Greenbacked--cattle?" he exclaimed incredulously.

O'Brien laughed outright, and Bill was no longer left in doubt as to his malady.

"They're a fancy breed," the saloonkeeper declared, "and kind of rare hereabouts. They come from Ottawa way. The States breed 'em, too.

Guess I'll say good night."

Bill was left with no alternative but to take his departure, for O'Brien, with scant courtesy, extinguished the light overhead and crossed to the second lamp. His visitor made for the door, and, as he reached it, a flash of inspiration came to him. This man was making fun of him, of his inexperience. Of course. He was half inclined to get angry, but changed his mind, and, instead, turned with a good-natured laugh as he reached the door.

"I see," he cried. "You mean dollars, eh? Charlie's collecting some dollars--some one owes him? For the moment I thought you were talking of cattle--greenbacked cattle. Guess you surely have the laugh on me."

O'Brien nodded.

"That's so," he admitted, and Bill closed the door behind him as the saloonkeeper extinguished the second lamp.

Big Brother Bill hurried away in the darkness. He swung along with long, powerful strides that roused dull echoes as he moved down the wide, wood-lined trail. It seemed to him that he had been wandering around the village for hours, the place was growing so ridiculously familiar.

Nor was it until he reached the spot where the trail divided that he realized what a perfect fool the saloonkeeper had made of him.

It always took a long time for such things to filter through his good-natured brain. Now, however, he grew angry--really very angry, and, for a moment, even considered the advisability of turning back to tell the man what he thought of him.

After a few moments' consideration better counsel prevailed, and he continued on his way, his thoughts filled with a great pity for a mind so small as to delight in such a cheap sort of humor. No doubt it was his own fault. Somehow or other he generally managed to impress people with the conviction that he was a fool. But he wasn't a fool by any means. No, not by any means. What was more, before he had done with Rocky Springs he would show some of them. He would show Mr. O'Brien.

Greenbacked cattle! The thought thoroughly annoyed him.

But, as he clambered up the hill toward the pine, his heat moderated, and his thoughts turned upon Charlie again. He remembered that he was collecting money, and quite suddenly it occurred to him as strange that he should be doing so as this time of night, and in the neighborhood of the pine. In the light of greenbacked cattle, that, too, seemed like perfect nonsense, unless, of course, some one were living in the neighborhood of the tree. He could not remember to have seen a house there. Wait a minute. Yes, there was. A smallish log building, not far from the new church.

Of course. That was it. Why hadn't that fool O'Brien said so right out instead of leaving him guessing? Yes, he would call at that house on----. Hallo, what was that?

A great dull yellow light was gleaming through the foliage ahead. A beautiful golden light. Bill laughed abruptly. It was the full moon just appearing on the horizon. For the moment he had not recognized it.

Now it held his attention completely. What a beautiful scene it made, lighting up the shadowy foliage. His mind went back to the Biblical story of the burning bush. He found himself wondering if it were like that. Much brighter, of course. But how green it looked, and how intensely it threw the thinner foliage into relief. What a pity Helen Seton wasn't there to see it! It would appeal to her, he was sure.

Pretty name, Helen Seton.

From this point, as he toiled up the hill, his thoughts became engrossed with the girl who had been so angry with him at first. He wished he could find some excuse for seeing her again that night. But, of course, that was----

He suddenly stopped dead, and his train of thought ended. There was the great pine ahead of him right in the back of the moonlight.

There, too, was the figure of a man standing silhouetted against the great ball of golden light as it rose slowly above the horizon.

Charlie! Yes, of course it was Charlie. There could be no doubt. The slight figure was unmistakable. Even at that distance he was certain he could make out his dark hair.

In a moment he was hailing the distant figure.

"Ho, Charlie!" he cried.

But his greeting met with an unexpected result. The figure vanished as if by magic, and he was left at a loss to understand.

Then further astonishment came to him. There was a sharp rustling of bush, and breaking of twigs close by, and the sound of heavy, plodding hoofs. The next moment two hors.e.m.e.n broke from the dense cover about him, and flung out of the saddle.

"Darnation take it, what in blazes are you shouting around for at this hour of the night?"

Inspector Fyles stood confronting the astounded man. Beside him stood another man in uniform, with three gold stripes on his arm. It was Sergeant McBain.

In spite of his recognition of the Inspector, Bill's anger rose swiftly, and his great muscles were set tingling at the man's words and tone.

"'Struth!" he cried in exasperation. "This is a free country, isn't it? If I need to shout it's none of your d.a.m.n business. What in the name of all that's holy has it got to do with you? I saw my brother ahead, and was hailing him. Well?"

Bill's eyes were fiercely alight. He and Fyles stood eye to eye for a moment. Then the latter's resentment seemed to suddenly die out.