There could be no harm in giving it a trial and, if by lucky chance it proved successful, what a triumph he would have over the arrogant Mayor of Vernock, and over Jim Langford as well.

He smiled to himself now at his credulity, as he had done once at his incredulity over the same peculiar word. Then recurred to him that wonderful little saying of Will Shakespeare's:--

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Encouraged by the quotation and angered by Brenchfield's cruelty, he decided to take a chance. He sprang to the mare's head.

"Let the horse alone, man," he cried. "Can't you see you are only making her worse?"

"What the devil do you know about horses? She'll eat you alive, you fool of a tenderfoot."

"I'm willing to take a chance. Stand back and see what I know."

Brenchfield gazed at him in surprise, but, ever ready to be enlightened, he stepped back.

"Jim,--go to the other end of the yard; take him with you,--and watch."

Langford, anxious at all times to be amused; Brenchfield grinning in derision; both went some thirty yards out of hearing, while the horse continued to kick and plunge.

Holding out his hand, Phil drew nearer to the mad animal.

Quietly he murmured the three-syllabled word which he had so dearly earned from his convict friend. The soft and soothing effect of its vowels surprised Phil himself. Time and again he repeated the word, going closer and closer.

Beelzebub stopped her plunging. She c.o.c.ked forward her ears, straining and listening intently. Phil kept on--as a slow tremor pa.s.sed over the horse. Slowly the wicked gleam died from her eyes. Phil's hand reached out and touched her nose. He stroked it cautiously--gently. He reached and whispered the word close in her ear. She sighed almost like a woman. In a moment more Phil's left hand was on her sleek neck and running over her back. She whinnied, then her nozzle sought his arm and rubbed along it to his shoulder.

She became as quiet as the proverbial lamb.

Langford and Brenchfield came forward, blank amazement showing in their faces.

"By jiminy!--where the d.i.c.kens did you learn that? Did I mention Lavengro. Lavengro's a _has been_, in fact, a _never waser_ alongside that."

He slapped Phil's shoulder. "Good old Phil!"

Surly as an old dog, Brenchfield loosened the reins from the hitching post.

"I'll give you five thousand dollars for that word," he said, turning suddenly to Phil.

"You're mighty free with your money to-day. You must have a lien on somebody's fortune."

"Five thousand dollars," repeated the Mayor.

"Not on your life!" answered Phil. "It was given me strictly on the understanding that it was not to be sold."

"Well then,--I'll give you my 'word' in exchange for yours."

"Your 'word,'--yours? No, Mister Mayor, I haven't any desire to know your 'word.' Keep it,--it fits you. The two words are just about the difference between you and me,--and, G.o.d knows, I'm no saint."

Brenchfield laughed in his easy, devil-may-care way. He jumped on to the back of his horse without touching her with his hands.

"Aren't you going to let me shoe her?" asked Phil in a.s.sumed disappointment.

For answer, the Mayor touched the horse's side with his spur, trotted round the end of the building and away.

"Phil, old man, where did you learn to subdue horses?"

"I got the word from an old horsey-man whom I befriended once."

"Did you ever use it before?"

"No! I just rethought of it a moment or two before I tried it out."

"Lordy! I shouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. You know, Beelzebub is positively the worst mare in the Valley.

Sol Hanson will throw a fit of delight when he hears about this.

"I've heard some queer things about horses, Phil. I once knew an old horse dealer in the East of Scotland. He owned a famous Clydesdale stud stallion. He used to travel with it all over the country. Old Sommerville, they called the man, was a terrible booze artist. He was drunk day and night. But never so drunk that he couldn't look after himself and his stallion. You know, just always half-full of whisky.

Well,--there wasn't a paddock that could hold that stallion. It had killed several men and had created tremendous havoc time and again in stables. If it had not been for its qualities as a perfect specimen of a horse, the Government would have ordered its destruction. A special friend of old Sommerville's died, and, on the day of the funeral, Sommerville swore he wouldn't taste liquor for twenty-four hours. He didn't. That night he was taking the stallion from one village to another. He failed to turn up at the village he intended making for, and next morning the stallion was discovered miles away, while later in the day a farm-hand came upon a ma.s.s of b.l.o.o.d.y bones and flesh pounded to mince meat among the earth at the side of a road."

"I quite believe it," said Phil, "because I have heard before somewhere that a horse--no matter how vicious it may be--will never interfere with a man smelling of liquor."

"Well,--I guess the horse had more sense than some of us have," said Jim.

"Sound horse sense, I suppose," laughed Phil.

"But say!--you and Brenchfield don't seem to love each other exactly.

What is it, Phil?"

"Oh!--we don't pull together, that's all."

"Anybody can see that. Did you ever meet him before coming here?"

"Yes!" answered Phil shortly.

"Well, old chum, it isn't any of my business, but the Mayor's an oily-tongued rotter and well worth the watching. I'm lying in wait for him myself. He doesn't love me any more than he seems to love you, so if I can help you out any time, let me know.

"He's got the nerve of the devil. He is setting up to little Eileen Pederstone too, the hound. I hope to G.o.d a fine woman like she is doesn't have such putrid luck as to marry such a miserable son-of-a-gun. But it is generally that way though, and that coyote nearly always gets what he goes after. He seems to be making money hand over fist. His stock is the largest and best in the Valley.

They say he owns half a dozen mines up north and more ranch land in the Okanagan than he can ever use.

"Eileen Pederstone has gone after her dad campaigning, and I heard up at the Court House this morning that Brenchfield is going off in a day or so, invited by the Party to join Royce Pederstone and help along his election with his influence and his glib tongue.

"If Pederstone gets in--as he is sure to do--the next thing we will be hearing will be the Mayor's engagement with Eileen.

"Honest to goodness!--I think I would plug him full of bullet holes on a dark night if that happened."

CHAPTER IX