The fury within him demanding some sort of expression found it in the swift stride that carried him blindly down the walk. He came almost at a run to his horse. Endymion, mindful of the unprovoked blows and tearing spurs of a week ago, distrustful, afraid, whirled, rearing and plunging, and broke the reins that had been tossed over the post.

Hume, venting upon a trifle the wrath that seethed within him, shouted angrily, cursing the horse that dashed by him.

The horse, seeing his way through the gate shut off, turned and dashed around the house, seeking a break in the yard fence. Hume ran after him, still cursing. The two men who were working in the yard lay down their rakes and shovels and came up. The three of them cornered the frightened brute. But when Hume, his hand outstretched for the dangling, broken rein, came within half a dozen feet, Endymion, snorting his fear, plunged by him, racing into another corner.

Again they closed about him, again he plunged through, mad with fear, making the madness in Sledge Hume a speechless, raging fury. A third time they tried, and as the big horse shot by Hume's temper mastered him as it had mastered him once before.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n you!" he shouted wildly. "Take that!"

As he shouted he jerked his revolver from his pocket and fired. Fired, saw the big animal stagger and fired again.

He went to the stable for one of Helga's horses. His hands were shaking as he saddled and got the bit into the animal's mouth. With no look behind him he mounted, spurred out into the road and galloped off toward El Toyon.

Helga Strawn from her window coolly ordered the two men to put the wounded horse out of his misery and to drag him where she could not see him, But her eyes did not tarry with them, did not leave the big bulk of Sledge Hume until it had disappeared around a bend In the road.

Then she went to her mirror and stood looking at herself with large, luminous eyes.

"I wonder," she whispered, "if he did love me, after all?"

She could never know. She knew that she could never know. And she went and threw herself, face down, on her bed.

CHAPTER XXVII

HUME RIDES THE ONE OPEN TRAIL

Hard driven, conscious of a compelling force more dominant than the strong will of a man, Sledge Hume rode the one trail open to him. It was as though the deeds of his life were now grown tangible separate squares of rock cemented into sheer walls rising about him, narrowing, forcing him into the one way open.

He rode into El Toyon and signed the deed before a notary. He returned it by a boy to Helga Strawn, and by the same messenger he sent back her horse. From the stable he hired another animal, and with no friendly word to man, woman or child, struck out for the Echo Creek. As he rode by the court house he looked at it curiously. Wayne Shandon was there, was spending his brief time in jail very much as an honoured guest. He would come out in a few days and then--then MacKelvey would be looking for another man--

Hume turned and rode back into town, going this time to the bank.

Explaining briefly that he expected to turn a big deal and would need the ready cash, he drew out all but a few dollars of his emergency fund. His lips were tight pressed, his eyes hard, as he rode by the jail again and out into the county road. The sight of MacKelvey at an open window talking with Brisbane and Edward Kinsell, made him frown blackly. Little things had come to be full of significance.

It was nearly fifty miles to Martin Leland's. But Hume had ridden early to Helga Strawn and now had a strong, fresh horse under him.

Looking at his watch, he saw that it was not yet half past nine. He could make it by half past four or five, riding hard. And he was in the mood for hard riding.

Very few times did he stop on the long way. Once he paused at a little road house for a pound of cheese and some bread; once at a certain crossing where a broad trail crossed Echo Creek. He sat here a moment, motionless, staring out across the little valley lying warm under the afternoon sun, his eyes running up and down along the course of the stream.

Raking his spurs against his horse's sweat-dripping sides he rode on.

In half an hour he threw himself from the saddle at Leland's house.

He heard the sound of singing within, a girl's voice lilting wordlessly, happily, bespeaking a heart that was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with the pure joy of life and love. Striding to Leland's office he flung the door open. In a moment, answering his impatient rap, Martin entered.

"I've come to talk business," Hume said, flinging himself into a chair.

"What's doing?"

"What do you mean, Mr. Hume?" Leland asked gravely.

"I want to know where you stand. Conway's strong for pulling out, eh?"

"I told you all that he wrote me."

"What have you done about it?"

"Nothing."

"You're going to buy him out?"

"No."

"d.a.m.n it!" cried Hume irritably. "Don't make me pump at you like a dry well! You know what I'm driving at. If Shandon goes clear where are you and I coming out?"

"Mr. Hume," returned the old man heavily, "I'm glad you came, for I was coming to you. Shandon is going clear. I've talked with his lawyer, I've talked with Kinsell--"

"What's Kinsell got to do with it?"

"Kinsell is a detective sent up here by Brisbane to work up the case.

Also, I have talked with Wayne Shandon." This came slowly, with an evident effort, but it came calmly. "Shandon will go free because he is not the man who killed Arthur Shandon."

"You're swapping horses, eh?" sneered Hume.

"Perhaps not exactly. But I have gone to him and told him that I had allowed myself to think of him as a murderer for the illogical but none the less potent reason that I hated his father. And I apologised to him, having no other amends to make."

"Cut the sentimental drivel short," cut in Hume unpleasantly. "Have you gone over to his side of the deal? Are you throwing me down and tying up with him?"

"No." Leland threw out his hands in a wide gesture. "I am done with the whole thing."

"And what happens to me! Here I am in up to my neck and you go and chuck the thing. Do you think I'll stand for the double cross like that?"

"Hume," cried Leland sharply, "I don't want to quarrel with you. I am quitting because I am ashamed of the things I have already done. I tried to blind myself by thinking that I was usurping the prerogative of G.o.d, in telling myself that it was my duty to punish. Now I am ashamed, I tell you. And not a second too soon can you understand and the world know that you and I are in no way interested in each other.

I have learned since I saw you that you were going on with a matter which I can have nothing to do with."

"What's that?"

"I refer to the way in which you are seeking to tunnel from the McIntosh property into Shandon's, to take the water whether or no.

That may be in your mind a bold stroke of business. I can't countenance that sort of thing."

"Ho! How you've taken the robe of righteousness upon your shoulders!

And after trying to steal Shandon's ranch from him on a mortgage!"

Martin made no reply. Not once during the conversation did his eyes light with anger; not for a moment was the underlying shadow of sadness gone from them. He was holding a strong rein upon himself. He was judging himself now; he was pa.s.sing judgment upon no other man.

Hume, glancing at him quickly, curiously, felt that he knew what Leland was thinking. Then his mind came back abruptly to his own interests.

"So you don't know what Conway is going to do?"

"I have advised him to sell to Shandon and to give Shandon the time he wants to make his payments."