"By Heaven, Sidcup," he said, in the stifled voice of a man who is deeply moved, "you're a good chap; and, if I go, it will be for _your_ sake. I'd rather cut this hand off than come between a man and the girl he loves."

"Yes, and there's another reason," said Sidcup, with a shake of the head. "Isabel's not the only one; there's Alice."

Derrick's eyes shone angrily now.

"Oh, go to blazes!" he said. "You're out of your mind; you'll be telling me that all the blessed women in the company----"

"Well, we'll let her go," said Sidcup, "though it's the truth. What are you going to do?"

Derrick lay still for a moment or two; then he heaved a sigh. He had found an occupation which, if it did not exactly suit him, provided him with a living, and it was hard to be compelled to surrender it. It seemed to him that he was doomed to be a wanderer, a fugitive; he had flown from man's judgment; now he was told that he must fly from a woman's love.

"I suppose I'll have to go," he said. "I can't stay and make trouble between you and the woman who has been so good to me. G.o.d bless her!"

At this Sidcup took Derrick's hand and pressed it.

"I said you were a gentleman and would do the right thing," he said.

"G.o.d knows whether it will be any good to me, your going; but it will be good for Isabel. Look here, you'll have to pad the hoof without any 'good-byes.' Yes, you will"--as Derrick stared at him. "Why, man, do you suppose she'd let you go if she knew you meant it? You don't know Isabel; you see, you don't love her as I do. She's the sort to go off with you----"

"Oh, stow it! You make me tired," implored Derrick. "But if I must, I must. Seems to me you're having it all your own way, Sidcup. I'm to go off without saying 'good-bye' to all the people who have been so kind to me. Oh, dash it!"

"The only way," said Sidcup, firmly. "And look here," he added, after a pause. "I know I'm doing you out of a good berth, and one that would have been better still if you could have stayed, for the old man's clean gone on you, and in time you'd have been the boss in reality, as well as in name, which you are now. And I don't forget that you're stranded in this outlandish place. Oh, I know how much I'm asking of you, and--and I'm not ungrateful."

"For goodness' sake, say no more about it," said Derrick.

"Only this," said Sidcup, colouring and hesitating nervously. "You may not be very oofish; you'll want some coin. I've saved a few quid----"

"That puts a finish to it," broke in Derrick, flushing angrily, and yet with something very different from anger in his heart. "Get out, or--or I'll throw you out!"

"You couldn't throw out a mouse," retorted Sidcup, with a mirthless smile. "All right. I was afraid you wouldn't accept my offer; but there it is. You've played the part of a gentleman, Green----"

"Oh, go and be hanged!"

"Is there anything I can do for you?" inquired Sidcup, with a friendly and admiring look in his eyes, which, though they were rather too fond of viewing themselves in the looking-gla.s.s, were honest and true.

"Yes, you can go and get the property pistol and shoot me," said Derrick. "But leave me alone now, there's a good fellow. I've given you my word."

"And you'll stick to it, I know," said Sidcup, shaking hands with him.

Isabel sat beside her patient that night, as she had sat for the four preceding ones; but few words pa.s.sed between them, for Derrick seemed to be sleepy--at any rate, he lay with his eyes closed. The next day it was Isabel who was silent; for, woman-like, she felt that a barrier had risen between them, and she was wondering what it could be. Derrick was a strong man, and he recovered quickly. In a day or two he was able to get about, and on the morning of the fifth he sought Mr. Bloxford and, as gently as he could, informed him that he, Derrick, would have to leave his employment.

Mr. Bloxford stared, grew red and exceeding wrath.

"What the deuce does this mean?" he demanded, throwing open his fur coat and sticking out his chest. "Look here, if you're not satisfied----"

Derrick made haste to a.s.sert not only his entire satisfaction with, but his grat.i.tude for, Mr. Bloxford's confidence and generosity.

"Then what is it?" shrilled Mr. Bloxford. "Has anybody been roughing you? If so, out he goes. Oh, I can't part with you, and that's the long and short of it. Here, what is it?"

"That's just what I can't tell you," said Derrick, colouring under the sharp, gimlet-like eyes.

Mr. Bloxford scratched his hairless head and looked despairingly at Derrick. From the first he had expected that there were grave reasons for the young man's presence in the company; a man of Derrick's breeding does not join a travelling circus for the mere fun of it.

"Some trouble, I suppose, eh? Got to clear out? I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Look here, can't something be done--can't it be squared? if it's money--well, say the amount"--he threw out his chest again--"and it shall be forthcoming. I'll own up that I've taken a fancy to you, that I'd plank down a biggish sum to keep you with me. No?"--for Derrick had shaken his head.

"Thank you with all my heart," said Derrick. "I must clear out without any fuss. I've got a bundle packed, and I'm going straight off directly I leave you."

Mr. Bloxford's countenance fell, and he whistled.

"Bad as that, is it? Whatever have you done? Well, well, I won't ask any questions. I've met some of your sort before; there's always something shady--though it goes against the grain with me to think that you've done anything low down and mean. But I see there's no use talking."

He thrust his hand in his breast-pocket, in which, with his love of ostentation, he always carried a bundle of notes and some loose gold, and, as he held out his hand to Derrick, there was something crisp in it.

Derrick shook the hand and pressed back the note; he could not speak for a minute; then he said, rather huskily:

"It's all right, Mr. Bloxford. You paid me on Friday night, and I've plenty to go on with."

With that he went out, heavy-hearted, and Mr. Bloxford stood at the door, his extraordinary face drawn into a thousand wrinkles and his lips shaping strange oaths.

CHAPTER XVIII

A week later Derrick was tramping along a dusty road which led to the little town of San Leonardo, where, he had been told, he could find a night's lodging. He was tired and footsore; in addition to the English five-pound note, he possessed but very little of the money with which he had left the circus; though, during his tramp, he had been able to get an occasional job, helping some herdsman rounding up his cattle or a.s.sisting timbermen to adjust their loads, and he was hoping that he would find some permanent employment in one of the big towns. He had the road to himself, and was feeling rather down on his luck, as a friendless man in a strange land must do; and, worse than all, he was, at that moment, terribly home-sick. Not for the first time, he had realized how much he had given up when he decided to sacrifice himself for Miriam Ainsley--no, Miriam Heyton, as she was now--the Miriam who, strangely enough, troubled his thoughts but little. Indeed, when he did think of her, with the remembrance was mixed a kind of amazement that he had ever loved her; for the illusion had now left him, and he knew that she had not been worth, at any time, all that she had cost him.

"What a fool I have been!" was the thought, the bitterness of which so many men have felt. But for Miriam, and the villainy of the man who had stolen her from him, he might have been still in England, might--who knows?--in better circ.u.mstances, have met the girl at Brown's Buildings.

He would have been free to love her and to tell her so.

With a shake of the head, and a setting of the lips, he tramped on, every step giving him pain; and at last he neared the town.

It was a small place, with a few scattered 'dobe houses, one of which bore the sign indicating an inn. Outside the door, with their cigarettes between their lips, their whips lying beside them, sat and lounged a group of cowboys. Derrick had made the acquaintance of many of their kind since the night on which he had checkmated the specimens in the circus, and he had got on very well with them; for your cowboy is an acute person, and knows a "man" when he sees him. As Derrick limped up they stopped talking, and eyed him with narrowed lids.

Derrick saluted them in Spanish fashion, for he had picked up a few phrases, and one of the men made way for him on the rude bench, greeted him with a nod, and slid a mug and a bottle of wine towards him. Derrick drank--it was like nectar in his parched mouth--and the cowboy, with a grunt of approval, tendered him a cigarette and inquired curtly, but not unkindly, where he was going. Derrick replied, in broken Spanish, that he was looking for work.

The cowboy said, "Ingles," and nodded to one of his companions, who, with a sudden flush, said--

"Thought you were a fellow-countryman. On the tramp, mate, eh? Well, I've done that myself, and, between you and me, there's many a better job." He filled up Derrick's mug and eyed him with friendly questioning.

"What's your line?"

"Oh, anything," said Derrick, with a smile. "Tramps can't be choosers.

You have a ranch here, I suppose?"

The other Englishman nodded.

"Yes, we're on Donna Elvira's ranch, three miles out." He jerked his head in a westerly direction, then looked round at his mates. "Do you think there's any room for him?"