The Settling of the Sage, Page 3

  III

  Billie Warren heard the steady buzz of a saw and later the ringingstrokes of an axe. The men had departed three hours before to be gonefor a week on the horse round-up but she had not yet issued from herown quarters. The music of axe and saw was ample evidence that her newand undesired partner was making valuable use of his time. She wentoutside and he struck the axe in a cross section of pine log as shemoved toward him.

  "We'll have to get along the best we can," she announced abruptly. "Ofcourse you will have a say in the management of the Three Bar and drawthe same amount for yourself that I do."

  He sat on a log and twisted a cigarette as he reflected upon thisstatement.

  "I'd rather not do that," he decided. "I don't want to be a drain onthe brand--but to help build it up. Suppose I just serve as an extrahand and do whatever necessary turns up--in return for your letting meadvise with you on a few points that I happen to have worked out whileI was prowling through the country."

  "Any way you like," she returned. "It's for you to decide. Any moneywhich you fail to draw now will revert to you in the end so it won'tmatter in the least."

  His reply was irrelevant, a deliberate refusal to notice her ungenerousmisinterpretation of his offer.

  "Do you mind if I gather a few Three Bar colts round here close andbreak out my own string before they get back?" he asked.

  "Anything you like," she repeated. "I'm not going to quarrel. I'vemade up my mind to that. I'll be gone the rest of the day."

  Five minutes later he saw her riding down the lane. She was notseeking companionship but rather solitude and for hours she driftedaimlessly across the range, sometimes dismounting on some point thatafforded a good view and reclining in the warm spring sun. Dusk wasfalling when she rode back to the Three Bar. As she turned her sorrel,Papoose, into the corral she noticed several four-year-old colts in thepasture lot. As she returned to the house Harris appeared in the door.

  "Grub-pile," he announced.

  They sat down to a meal of broiled steak, mashed potatoes, hotbiscuits, coffee and raspberry jam. She had deliberately absentedherself through the noon hour and well past the time for evening meal,confidently expecting to find him impatiently waiting for her to returnand prepare food for him.

  "You make good biscuits--better than those Waddles stirs up," she said."Though I'd never dare tell him so." It was the first time she hadconceded that there might be even a taint of good in him.

  "Well, yes--they're some better than those I usually turn out," heconfessed. "Having a lady to feed I flaked the lard in cold instead ofjust melting it and stirring her in like I most generally do. I'mright glad that you consider them a success."

  When the meal was finished she rose without a word and went into herown quarters, convinced that this desertion would certainly call fortha protest; but the man calmly went about the business of washing thedishes as if he had expected nothing else, and presently she heard thedoor close behind him and immediately afterwards a light appeared inthe bunk-house window.

  The rattle of pots and pans roused her before daylight. Some thirtyminutes later he called to her.

  "I've finished," he said. "You'd better eat yours before it getscold," and the closing of the door announced that he had gone withoutwaiting for an answer. She heard again the sound of saw and axe as heworked up the dry logs into stove lengths. At least he was making goodhis word to the cook. The sounds ceased when the sun was an hour highand when she looked out to determine the reason she saw him workingwith four colts in one of the smaller corrals.

  He had fashioned a hackamore for each and they stood tied to the corralbars. He left them there and repaired to the big gates of the maincorral. The two swinging halves sagged until their ends dragged on theground when opened or closed, necessitating the expenditure ofconsiderable energy in performing either operation. She watched himtear down the old support wires and replace them with new ones,stretching a double strand from the top of the tall pivot posts to thefree ends of the gates. Placing a short stick between the two strandsof heavy wire he twisted until the shortening process had cleared thegate ends and they swung suspended, moving so freely that a rider couldlean from his saddle and throw them open with ease.

  This completed to his satisfaction he fashioned heavy slabs of wood toserve as extra brake-blocks for the chuck wagon. Between theperformance of each two self-appointed duties he spent some little timewith the colts, handling them and teaching them not to fear hisapproach, cinching his saddle on first one and then the next, talkingto them and handling their heads.

  For three days there was little communication between the two. It wasevident that he had no intention of forcing his society upon her, andher failure to prepare his meals failed to elicit a single sign to showthat he had expected otherwise; the contrary was true, in fact, for heinvariably prepared enough for two. It was clear that he exercised thesame patience toward her that he showed in handling the greenfour-year-olds; and she was inclined to be a little scornful of hismethod of gentle-breaking them. She felt her own ability to handle anyhorse on the range although old Cal Warren had gentled every animal shehad wanted for her own and flatly refused to let her mount any others.Waddles was as insistent upon this point as her parent had been, butnever had she known a cowhand who took time and pains to gentle his ownstring.

  In the afternoon of the third day she saw him swing to the back of abig bay, easing into the saddle without a jar, and the colt ambledround the corral, rolling his eyes back toward the thing clamped uponhim but making no effort to pitch. He dismounted and stripped off thesaddle, cinched it on a second horse and let him stand, leading a thirdout to a snubbing post near the door of the blacksmith shop where heproceeded to put on his first set of shoes.

  The girl went out and sat on the sill of the shop door and watched him.The colt pulled back in an effort to release the forefoot that the manheld clamped between his leather-clad knees, then changed his tacticsand sagged his weight against Harris.

  "You Babe!" the man ordered. "Don't you go leaning on me." He pareddown the hoof and fitted the shoe but before nailing it on he releasedthe colt's foot and addressed the girl. "If I'd fight him now whilehe's spooky and half-scared it would spoil him maybe," he explained.

  "I gentle-break mine, too," she said, and the man overlooked theinflection which, as plainly as words, was intended to convey theimpression that his ways were effeminate. "If every man used up histime gentling his string he'd never have a day off to work at anythingelse."

  "Why, it don't use up much time," he objected. "They halfway breakthemselves, standing round with a saddle on and having a man handlethem a little between spells of regular work--like cutting firewood andsuch. And it's a saving of time in the end. There's three hundred odddays every year when a man consumes considerable time fighting everyhorse he steps up on--if they're broke that way to start."

  "So your only reason for not riding them out is to save time," she said.

  "If you mean that I'm timid," he observed, "why, I don't know as I'dbother to dispute it." He moved over and sat on his heels facing her,twisting the ever handy cigarette. "Listen," he urged. "Let's you andI try to get along. Now if you'll only make up your mind that I'm notout to grab the Three Bar, not even the half of it that's supposed tobe mine--unless you get paid for it--why, we're liable to get to likingeach other real well in the end. I'll give you a contract to thateffect."

  "Which you know would be worthless!" she returned. "The willspecifically states that any agreements between us prior to the time ofdivision are to be disregarded. A written contract would have no morevalue than your unsupported promise and in view of what's happened youdon't expect me to place a value on that."

  He pulled reflectively at his cigarette and she rather expected anotherof the irrelevant remarks with which he so often replied to her pointedthrusts.

  "No," he said at last. "But it's a fact that I don't want the ThreeBar--or rather I do if you should ev
er decide to sell."

  "I never will," she stated positively. "It's always been my home.I've been away and had a good time; three winters in school andenjoying every second; but there always comes a time when I'm sick toget back, when I know I can't stay away from the Three Bar, when I wantto smell the sage and throw my leg across a horse--and ride!"

  "I know, Billie," he said softly. "I was raised here, up until I waseight. My feeling is likely less acute than yours but I've alwayshankered to get back to where the sage and pine trees run together. Imentioned a while back that I was tied up peculiar and stood to loseconsiderable if I failed to put in two years out here--which wouldn'thave been of any particular consequence only that I found out that theThree Bar was going under unless some one put a stop to what's goingon. I'll pull it out of the hole, maybe, and hand it back to you."

  She was swayed into a momentary belief in his sincerity but steeledherself against it, and in the effort to strengthen the crumbling wallsof her dislike she fell back on open ridicule.

  "You!" she flared. "And what can you do against it--a man that wasraised in squatter country behind a barb-wire fence, who has to gentlehis horses before he can sit up on one, who has hitched a gun on hisbelt because he thinks it's the thing to do, and has stowed it in aplace where he'd have to tie himself in a knot--or undress--to reachit. And then you talk of pulling the Three Bar out of a hole! Why,there are twenty men within fifty miles of here that would kill you thefirst move you made."

  "There's considerable sound truth in that," he said. He looked down athis gun; it swung on his left side, in front, the butt pointing towardthe right. "It's easier to work with it sort of out of the way of myhands," he explained and smiled.

  She found herself liking him, even in the face of the treachery he hadpracticed against her father and was correspondingly angry, both withherself and at him. She left him without a word and returned to thehouse.

  He finished putting the shoes on the colt and as he turned him backinto the corral he observed a horseman jogging up the lane at a trailtrot. He knew the man for Slade, whose home ranch lay forty miles tothe south and a little west, the owner of the largest outfit in thatend of the State; a man feared by his competitors, quick to resent aninsinuation against his business methods and capable of backing hisresentment.

  Slade dropped from his horse and accorded Harris only a casual nod ashe headed for the house. Slade's face was of a peculiar cast. Theblack eyes were set very close together in a wide face; his cheek boneswere low and oddly protruding, sloping far out to a point below eacheye. His small ears were set so close to his skull that theoutcropping cheek bones extended almost an inch beyond them to eitherside. Yet there was a certain fascination about his face and bearingthat appealed to the spark of the primitive in women; that lastlingering cell that harks fondly back to men in the raw. His age mighthave been anywhere above twenty-six and under fifty-six.

  He walked through the cookhouse and opened the door of the girl'squarters without the formality of a knock, as if a frequent visitor andsure of his privileges.

  "How many times have I told you to knock?" she demanded. "The nexttime you forget it I'll go out as you come in."

  Slade dropped into a chair.

  "I never have knocked--not in twelve years," he said.

  "It was somewhat different when I was a small girl and you were only afriend of my father," she pointed out. "But now----"

  "But now that I've come to see you as a woman it's different?" heinquired. "No reason for that."

  She switched the channel of conversation and spoke of the cominground-up, of the poor condition of range stock owing to the severity ofthe winter; but it was a monologue. For a time the man sat andlistened, as if he enjoyed the sound of her voice, contributing nothingto the conversation himself, then suddenly he stirred in his chair andwaved a hand to indicate the unimportance of the topics.

  "Yes, yes; true enough," he interrupted. "But I didn't come to talkabout that. When are you coming home with me, Billie?"

  "And you can't come if you insist on talking about that," she countered.

  "I'll come," he stated. "Tell me when you're going to move over to theCircle P."

  "Not ever," she said. "I'd rather be a man's horse than his wife. Mentreat women like little tinsel queens before, and afterwards theyanswer to save a cook's wages and drudge their lives out feeding ahunch of half-starved hands--or else go to the other extreme. Wivesare either work horses or pets. I was raised like a boy and I want tohave a say in running things myself."

  "You can go your own gait," he pledged.

  "I'm doing that now," she returned. "And prefer going on as I am."

  Slade rose and moved over to her, taking her hands and lifting her fromher chair.

  The girl pushed him back with a hand braced against his chest.

  "Stop it!" she said. "You're getting wilder every time you come, butyou've never pawed at me before. I won't have people's hands on me,"and she made a grimace of distaste.

  The man reached out again and drew her to him. She wrenched away andfaced Slade.

  "That will be the last time you'll do that until I give the word," shesaid. "I don't want the Circle P--or you. When I do I'll let youknow!"

  He moved toward her again and she refused to back away from him butstood with her hands at her sides.

  "If you put a finger on me it's the last lime you'll visit the ThreeBar," she calmly announced.

  He stood so close as almost to touch her but she failed to lift a handor move back an inch, and Slade knew that he faced one whose spiritmatched his own, perhaps the one person within a hundred miles who didnot fear him. He had tamed men and horses--and women; he raised hisarms slowly, deliberately, to see if she would flinch away or standfast and outgame him. She knew that he was harmless to her--and heknew it. He might perpetrate almost any crime on the calendar and comeclear; but in this land where women were few they were honored. Onewhisper from the Three Bar girl that Slade had raised his hand againsther and, powerful as he was, the hunt for him would be on, with everyman's hand against him.

  His arms had half circled her when he whirled, catlike, every facultycool and alert, as a voice sounded from the door. Both had been tooengrossed to notice its noiseless opening.

  "I've finished cleaning up round the shop and corrals," Harris said."Is there any rubbish round the house you'd like to have throwed outand piled in a dry gulch somewheres out of sight?"

  He stood in the door, half facing them, his left side quartering towardSlade. To the girl it appeared that the strange pose was for thepurpose of enabling him to take a quick step to the right and springoutside if Slade should make a move and she felt a tinge of scorn athis precaution even though she knew that it would avail him nothing ifSlade's deadly temper were roused by the insult. Slade, who had killedmany, would add Harris to his list before he could move.

  Slade's understanding of the quartering position and the odd sling ofHarris's gun was entirely different and as he shifted his feet until hefaced the man in the door, his movements were slow and deliberate,nothing that could be misconstrued.

  "Who summoned you in here?" he demanded.

  Harris did not reply but stood waiting for some word from the girl.She had a sudden sick dread that Slade would kill him and was surprisedat the sentiment, for no longer than an hour before she had wished himdead. She made belated answer to his original question.

  "No," she said. "Go on out, please."

  He turned his back on Slade and went out.

  "And you," she said to Slade, "you'd best be going too. We've been toogood neighbors to quarrel--unless you come over again with the sameidea you did to-day."

  At sunset the girl called to Harris and he repaired to the house andfound her putting a hot meal for two on the end of the long pine table,the first time she had deigned to eat with him since that first meal.

  "There's no use of our going on like this," she said. "We've two yearsof it to face;
so it's best to get on some kind of a neutral footing."

  For her own peace of mind she had tried to smother her dislike of himand he was very careful to avoid any topic that would rekindle it.They washed the dishes together, and from that hour their relations, toall outward appearance, were friendly or at least devoid of openhostility. They no longer ate separately; she did not avoid him duringthe day, and the second evening she prepared two places at her owntable in the big living room before the fireplace.

  "It's so empty out there," she explained.

  "With only the two of us at a table built for twenty."

  He lingered for an hour's chat before her fire and each eveningthereafter was the same. But he knew that she was merely struggling tomake the best of a matter that was distasteful, that her opinion of himwas unaltered. Her bitterness could not be entirely concealed, and shefrequently touched on some fresh point that added to her distrust ofhis present motives and confirmed her belief in his double-dealing inthe past. There were so many of these points; his refusal to accepther offer to give him his half-interest if he would stay off the place;his weak insinuations that there was some reason why he must spend twoyears on the Three Bar; his prowling the country for a year spying onthe methods she followed in running the outfit, half of which wouldsoon be his; his buying the school section and filing on a quarter ofland, the location blocking the lower end of the Three Bar valley.Whenever she mentioned one of these he refused to take issue with her.And one night she touched on still another point.

  "What was the reason for your first idea--of coming here under anothername?" she demanded.

  "I thought maybe others knew I'd been left a part interest," he said,"and it might be embarrassing. The way it is, with only the two of usknowing the inside, I can stay on as a regular hand until the time isup."

  "You're so plausible," she said. "You put it as a favor to me. Did itever strike you that if the truth were known it might also beuncomfortable for you?"

  He smiled across at her and once more she frowned as she discoveredthat he was likeable for all his underhandedness.

  "Worse than that--suicidal," he admitted.

  "If you mentioned what you think of me, that I've framed to rob you bylaw, you wouldn't be bothered with me for long." He laughed softly andstretched his feet toward the fire. "Look at it any way you like andI'm in bad shape to deal you any misery," he pointed out. "If you'ddrop a hint that I'm an unwelcome addition it would only be a matter ofdays until I'd fail to show up for meals. If you view it from thatangle you can see I'm setting on the powder can."

  She did see it, but had not so clearly realized it till he pointed itout, and for the first time she wavered in her conviction that he hadcome simply to deprive her of her rights. But the thought that herfather would not easily have willed away the home place to anotherwithout being unduly influenced served to reinstate her distrust alongwith a vague resentment for his having shaken it by throwing himself soopenly on her mercy.

  "You probably thought to overcome that by reaching the point the wholething so patently aims for," she said. "And you calculatedwell--arriving at a time when we'd be alone for a week. The wholescheme was based on that idea and I've been patiently wondering why youdon't rush matters and invite me to marry you."

  He rose and flicked the ash from his cigarette into the fireplace.

  "I do invite you--right now," he said, and in her surprise she left herchair and stood facing him. "I'd like real well to have you, Billie."

  "That's the final proof," she said. "I'm surprised that you didn'ttell me the first day."

  "So am I," he said.

  She found no answer for this but stood silent, knowing that she hadsuddenly become afraid of him.

  "And that's the living truth," he affirmed. "Other men have loved youthe first day. You know men well enough to be certain that I wouldn'tbe tied to one woman for the sake of owning a few head of cows--not ifI didn't want her for herself." He waved an arm toward the door."There's millions of miles of sage just outside," he said. "Andmillions of cows--and girls."

  He moved across to her and stood almost touching her, looking down intoher face. When Slade had stood so a few days past she had been coldlyindifferent except for a shiver of distaste at the thought of histouching her. Before Harris she felt a weakening, a need of support,and she leaned back from him and placed one hand behind her on thetable.

  "You judge for yourself whether a man wouldn't be right foolish--withall those things I mentioned being right outside to call him--to marrya woman he didn't want for herself, because she had a few hundred headof cows." He smiled down at her. "Don't pull back from me, Billie; Iwon't lay a finger on you. But now do you think it's you I want--orthe little old Three Bar?"

  "You can prove it," she said at last. "Prove it by going away for sixmonths--or three."

  He shook his head.

  "Not that," he said. "I've told you I was sewed up in a right peculiarway myself--which wouldn't matter a damn if it wasn't for this. I'dhave tossed it off in a second if the girl on the Three Bar had turnedout to be any other than you. Now I'm going to see it through. TheThree Bar is going under--the brand both our folks helped tofound--unless some one pulls it out of the hole. Believe me if you canand if you can't--why, you know that one remark about my beingunwelcome here will clear the road for you, like I mentioned a fewminutes back."

  He turned away without touching her and she had not moved when the doorclosed behind him.

  An hour past noon on the following day a drove of horses appeared atthe lower extremity of the valley and swept on toward the ranch. AsHarris threw open the gates of the big corral he saw her standing inthe door of the cookhouse watching the oncoming drove. Riders flankedthe bunch well out to each side to steady it. There was a roar ofhoofs and a stifling cloud of dust as three hundred half-wild horsesclattered past and crowded through the gates, scattering swiftly acrossthe pasture lot back of the corral. A dozen sweat-streaked ridersswung from their saddles. There was no chance to distinguish color orkind among them through the dust caked in the week-old growth of beardthat covered every face.

  One man remained on his mount and followed the horses into the pasturelot, cutting out fifty or more and heading them back into the corral;for Waddles had decreed that they could have the rest of the afternoonoff for a jaunt to Brill's Store and they waited only to change mountsbefore the start.

  Calico stood drooping sleepily in one of the smaller corrals and Harrismoved toward him, intending to ride over with the rest of the men.

  "The boss said for you to ride Blue," Morrow stated as Harris passedthe group at the gates of the corral. "He's clear gentle-broke, Blueis."

  The men looked up in surprise. Morrow had not been near the house toreceive instructions from the girl. The lie had been so apparent as toconstitute a direct challenge to the other man.

  Harris stood looking at him, then shrugged his shoulders.

  "Whatever the boss says goes with me," he returned evenly.

  A rangy blue roan swept past with the fifty or so others. At leastonce every round of the corral he laid back his ears and squealed as hescored some other horse with his teeth, then lashed out with wickedheels.

  "I reckon that'll be Blue?" Harris asked of Evans and the lanky onenodded. The men scattered round the corral and each watched his chanceto put his rope on some chosen horse. The roan kept others alwaysbetween himself and any man with a rope but at last he passed Harriswith but one horse between. Harris nipped his noose across the back ofthe intervening horse and over the blue roan's head.

  Blue stopped the instant the rope tightened on his neck.

  "You've been busted and rope-burnt a time or two," Harris remarked, andhe led the horse out to saddle him. The big blue leaned back,crouching on his haunches as the man put on the hackamore. His eyesrolled wickedly as Harris smoothed the saddle blanket and he flinchedaway with a whistling snort of fear, his nostrils flaring, as the heavysaddle was thrown on hi
s back.

  Harris tightened the front cinch and the blue horse braced himself anddrew in a long, deep breath.

  "That's right, Blue, you swell up and inflate yourself," Harris said."I'll have to squeeze it out of you." He fastened the hind cinchloosely, then returned to the front and hauled on the latigo until thepressure forced the horse to release the indrawn breath and it leakedout of him with a groaning sigh.

  "I wonder now why Morrow is whetting his tommyhawk for me," Harrisremarked as he inspected the big roan. "You're a hard one, Blue. I'lllet that saddle warm up on you before I top you off."

  Every horse pitched a few jumps from force of habit when first mounted,some of them indifferently, others viciously, then moved restlesslyaround, anxious for the start.

  "Well, step up on him and let's be going," Morrow ordered surlily.

  Harris took a short hold on the rope reins of the hackamore with hisleft hand, cramped the horse's head toward him and gripped the mane,his right hand on the horn, and swung gently to the saddle, easing intoit without a jar.

  "Easy, Blue!" he said, holding up the big roan's head. "Don't you hangyour head with me." He eased the horse to a jerky start and they wereoff for Brill's at a shuffling trot. Three times in the first mileBlue bunched himself nervously and made a few stiff jumps but each timeHarris held him steady. The pace was increased to a long, swingingtrot and he felt the play of powerful muscles under him as the bluehorse seemed to reach out for distance at every stride.

  "You'd have made one good little horse, Blue," he said, "if some sporthadn't spoiled you on the start."

  "Don't speak loud or the blue horse might shy and spill his pack,"Morrow remarked in a tone loud enough for Harris to overhear. Evansturned in his saddle and eyed the dark man curiously.

  "He won't upset his load to-day," he prophesied. "Harris is just pastthe colt stage, round twenty-seven or eight somewheres, and hasout-growed his longing to show off. But he'll be able to sit up in themiddle of anything that starts to move out from under him."

  They left the horses drooping at the several hitch rails before thepost and crowded in. A few paused along the counters of merchandisethat flanked the left side of the big room while the rest headedstraight for the long bar that extended the full length of the oppositeside. The Three Bar men had scarcely tossed off their first drinkbefore there sounded a clatter of hoofs outside and twelve men from theHalfmoon D trooped in.

  "Out of the way!" the foremost youth shouted. "Back off from the pineslab, you Three Bar soaks, and give parched folks a chance. Two hours'play and six months' work--so don't delay me."

  The throng before the bar was a riot of color; Angora chaps rangingfrom orange and lavender to black and silky white; smooth leatherchaps, and stamped, silver-ornamented and plain, with here and there anindividual design, showing that the owner had selected some queerlyspotted steer and tanned the pelt with the hair on to be fashioned intogaudy vest and pants. 'Twas an improvident, carefree lot who livedto-day with scarce a thought for to-morrow. The clatter of sardine andsalmon cans mingled with the clink of glassware at the bar as the menwho had missed the noon meal lunched out of cans between drinks.

  Some few detached themselves from the group and occupied themselveswith writing. Several started a game of stud poker at one of the manytables. Harris wrote a few letters before joining in the play, and ashe looked up from time to time he caught many curious glances leveledupon him. Morrow had been busily spreading the tidings that a would-besquatter was among them and they were curious to see the man who haddeliberately defied the unwritten law of the Coldriver Range. When hehad finished his writing he crossed over to the group, tossed a bill onthe bar and waved all hands to a drink.

  Waddles had instructed Evans to start the men back before the spree hadprogressed to a point where they would refuse to leave Brill's and soleave the Three Bar short-handed. At the end of two hours he looked athis watch and snapped it shut.

  "Turn out!" he shouted. "On your horses!"

  "That goes for my men, too," the Halfmoon D foreman seconded."Outside!"

  Morrow had not neglected to inform the men from the Halfmoon D thatHarris gentled his horses.

  "Handle the little roan horse gentle," he advised as they moved towardthe door. "Better hobble your stirrups before you crawl him." Severalmen turned and grinned. In riding contests women were allowed tohobble their stirrups while the same precaution disqualified a man.

  Most of the men were young, scarcely more than boys, full of rough playand youthful pride of accomplishment along with a desire to make apresumably careless display of it. A Halfmoon D youth mounted a blockybay and as he threw his leg across it he loosed a shrill yip andreached forward to rake the horse's shoulder. The bay dropped his headand performed. A half-dozen others followed his example and theirhorses pitched off in as many directions. All eyes were turned onHarris as he neared the big roan.

  "Oh, I might as well act up a little," he said to Evans. "They seem tobe looking for it."

  "He's a hard citizen, that roan," Evans remarked. "I'll wrangle foryou, Cal."

  Harris stepped over to the horse.

  "I wonder what old Blue can do," he said. He hooked the roan in theshoulder as he mounted and the horse plunged his head between his kneesand rose in the air. The big roan bawled and expelled a long-drawn"wa-a-augh" each time he struck the ground, then savagely shook hiswhole frame as he rose again. The first four jumps Harris swung bothfeet forward and hooked his shoulders and the next two bounds reachedback and raked his flanks, in accordance with the regulation rulesprescribed for contest riding.

  "He's riding for the judges," a megaphone voice announced. "Boy,you've rode your horse!"

  Blue varied his leaps, draping himself in fantastic curves, lighting ona slant with his side arched out, sunfishing and swapping ends, thenthrew himself over and smashed down on his back. Harris slippedsidewise and cleared himself.

  "Fourteen long jumps," one man testified. "One hell of a long time onan eel like that!"

  As Blue regained his feet Harris stepped into the saddle and rose withhim, the hackamore rope trailing loose under the horse's feet. Achorus of approving yelps broke out.

  "Rake him from ears to tail roots!" "Ri-ide 'im, rider!" "Hang 'em upinto that horse!" "Claw him!" "Scra-a-atch him!"

  This wave of questionable advice ceased as Blue, after three shortjumps, somersaulted forward and his rider made a headlong side-dive forsafety.

  Evans had flanked the roan's course and he now leaned from the saddleand seized the hackamore rope; as Blue scrambled to his feet he tooktwo quick turns of the rope and snubbed his head short to the saddlehorn. The roan struggled and threw himself, his head still suspendedby the rope, rose and reared to strike savagely at the man who heldhim, but Evans left his saddle and leaned far out, his right foot onthe ground, left still in the stirrup, and eased himself back into thesaddle as the fighting horse slid down. He had never once lost hishold which snubbed Blue to the horn, a pretty bit of wrangling.

  "He's on the fight now," Evans said. "I'll hold him solid till hecools down--which won't be long, for Cal didn't cut him any; he wasswinging his feet free and never hooked him once." He jerked his thumbat the roan's shoulder and flanks where not a drop of blood appeared;his hide would have been tattered indeed if Harris had driven home hisrowels each time he swung his feet. "Nice ride."

  Harris walked back to a small group that had not yet mounted, Morrowamong them. His left side was quartering toward Morrow and apparentlyhe was addressing the group as a whole instead of any one man.

  "The next time some one frames me to put on a show like that," he said,"why, he'd better make certain beforehand about what part he's willingto play in the performance himself--for next time I won't take it outof the horse."