Douglas sat up, his clear eyes blazing like blue stars out of his sunburned face. "Because I know! I want to have the biggest, finest ranch in the Rockies. Is that sex? You want a good education. Is that sex? Peter wants me to carry on some dreams my mother and grandfather had. Is that sex? What does that woman think the world was made for, I'd like to know?"
"That's just it," Judith sighed with all the sadness of sixteen, "what is it made for?"
There was silence for a moment on the hay rick while the two young questioners gazed at the incomparable grandeur about them. And as he gazed there returned to Douglas the sense of panic that had harassed him after Oscar's death. What did it all mean? Whither was he directed and by what? How long before he too would be swept into the awful void beyond the grave?
"That's what religion did for folks all these years," he said suddenly.
"They never asked these questions, I'll bet. I wish I had it."
"I don't want to believe fairy tales just because I'm scared!" Judith tossed her head stoutly.
"I don't either," agreed Douglas dejectedly.
"I'm going to drive on home and get something to eat," said Judith, lifting the reins. "Food's the only thing that'll rid me of the dumb horrors."
Douglas settled back against the hay, and the rest of the ride was continued in silence.
Old Johnny Brown stayed on for a day or so to clean up odd jobs neglected during the haying season. He was a gentle, timid little chap, the butt of the entire valley, of course, and particularly of John Spencer. Douglas often wondered why old Johnny consented to work each year at this season for his father. This wonderment was solved the day after Doug's and Jude's conversation on the load of hay and in a manner destined in a small way to have its influence on Douglas' affairs in the years to come.
Just before supper Judith returned from the post-office and rushed into the kitchen with a huge, long-legged, ugly puppy in her arms. She set him on the floor where his four knotty legs pointed in four different directions and where his long back sagged like the letter U. He was covered with rough gray hair and his eyes were huge and brown.
"Isn't he a perfect lamb? He's mine!" cried Judith, squatting beside him.
"Oh! A lamb!" grunted John, who was combing his hair at the wash-basin in the corner. "I thought it was a buffalo calf."
"Don't be stupid!" cried Judith. "Of course, you're no judge of dogs, but
Peter says he's just like Sister was at two months, only bigger."
Mary Spencer looked him over critically, coffee-pot in hand. "Isn't he awful homely, even for a mongrel, Judith?" she asked.
"Mongrel! What is the matter with all you folks?" exclaimed Judith. "He's no more mongrel than anybody else! Come here to your missis, you precious!" and she gathered the great pup into her lap, where he sat complacently, his legs in a hopeless tangle.
"What's his name?" asked old Johnny, mildly.
"Wolf Cub. And you wait till I'm through with him! You'll see the best trained dog in the valley, like Sioux will be the best trained bull and Buster the best trained horse. O, look, Doug!" as Douglas came in. "See what I've got!"
"I dare you to name its pedigree, Doug!" chuckled John.
Douglas lifted the pup to the floor and ran his hands over its skull, along its back, and down its erratic legs. "Some dog, Judith! You'll have to muzzle him by the time he's six months old."
Judith smiled triumphantly. "No, I won't! Wait till you see how I train him."
"You get that from your mother, Judith. She was always gregus smart with critters," said old Johnny.
Judith laughed skeptically. "She was!" The little old man nodded his head. "I remember. I deponed that same thing to Peter the other day. How Mary could break anything when she was a girl, like you."
"Well, but Mother won't touch anything that isn't broke now!" exclaimed
Judith.
"Just what I deponed," nodded Johnny. "John broke her just like he broke old Molly horse, so she lost her nerve. I deponed just that. An awful rough breaker. I deponed just that."
"O dry up, Johnny!" grunted John, drawing his chair up to the table. "I've put up with an awful lot of drool from you, and I'm getting sick of it."
Old Johnny was always most explanatory when he was most frightened. "I wasn't drooling, John. I was just deponing. Any one can do that, can't they? And Mary did used to be like Judith."
"Will you shut up!" shouted John.
The puppy, startled, gave a sudden loud howl.
"Put that thing out and come to supper, Jude! If he howls to-night, I'll shoot him." Judith left the house indignantly.
"No, you won't, Dad," said Douglas quietly, as he buttered a biscuit.
"If you're going to give me back talk, young fellow, you leave the table now, before I lose my temper."
"I'm not giving you any more back talk than you deserve," replied Douglas. "Any man that would threaten to shoot a pup because it howls deserves something more than back talk. Let's forget it. Johnny, how about this stunt of Mother's breaking horses?"
Old Johnny gave John a timid glance. "I don't remember," he muttered.
Mary laughed. "What's the use of a woman breaking horses when she's got a man to do it for her?"
"Did you ever see her break a horse, Johnny?" insisted Doug.
"Once," said the old man, "a lot of the boys tied me on a mule and the mule ran away. It wasn't broke, that mule. Seem like it had run a gregus long way when Mary come along. She was just a walking and she reached up and grabbed the mule and she rode him back with me. And she made them untie me. And I loved her ever since. I came up here every year to see how John is treating her. I depone—"
John rose and, striding around the table, he seized the old man by the collar. Douglas put his hand on his father's arm.
"Drop it, Dad, or I swear I'll think old Johnny is a better man than you. I asked him to tell. Throw me out if you want to. Keep your hands off this little chap. One thing is sure. He appreciates Mother more than any of the rest of us have."
"Get the half-wit out of my sight, then," growled John, returning to his seat.
"I wish a lot of folks with whole wits knew how to be as good a friend as
Johnny," said Douglas stoutly.
"So do I!" Mary's voice trembled, but her glance at the little old man was very lovely.
The rest of the meal was finished in silence, Douglas turning over in his mind this strange new picture of Judith's mother. Could anything, he wondered, change Judith so? A curious anger against his father's stupidity was at that moment born in Douglas' heart, an anger that never was wholly to leave him.
That evening, as Douglas sat in his favorite place beside the alfalfa stack, old Johnny led up his little gray mare.
"I'll be cowling myself along home now, Doug," he said. "John is awful insidious to me. I just want to say, Doug, that you're the first man in this valley ever stuck up for me and some day I depone I'll get even with you."
"Good for you, Johnny!" nodded Douglas. "When I get my old ranch going, you come up and work for me."
"I will so do," replied the old man solemnly, and he rode away in the moonlight.
And Douglas returned to the new theme old Johnny had given him. Of what were women made that they could be over-broken as his father had over-broken Mary? And why should Lost Chief, so small that control was simple, permit such a thing to be?
CHAPTER V
THE HUNT ON LOST CHIEF
"A guy that don't rustle cattle when the rustling is good, is a fool."
—Scott Parsons.
One hot afternoon in August Douglas had just unhitched the panting team from the plow in the new oat field when Charleton Falkner trotted up on Democrat.
"How's the fall plowing, Doug?"
"Just out of the woods, Charleton."
"Your father says he can spare you for a day or two. I wish you'd come down to my place to-night. I'm planning a trip. I don't suppose John would loan you Beauty for a couple of days?"
Douglas shook his head.
"Well," Charleton went on, "I guess Buster can stand up under the work."
"Buster belongs to Judith now. I've been trying to get time to break that dapple gray Young Jeff gave me, after the trial. He's a good horse. Darned if I don't think I can ride him now!"
"I know that horse and he is a good one," agreed Charleton. "Ride the young moose if you can stick on him. You'll need all his wind and limb on this trip!" and Charleton trotted away.
It was full starlight that night when Douglas freed his feet from the stirrups before Charleton's door and jumped like lightning from the saddle. His horse jumped with him, landing in the kitchen as Douglas brought up against the door-jamb. There was a roar of laughter from within, and as the horse lunged backward out of the door, Charleton appeared.
"So you and the moose are here! Better hobble him, Doug!"
Douglas laughed and tied the rearing horse to a hayrack. Then he followed Charleton into the kitchen. Scott Parsons was sitting by the table, hat on the back of his head, spurred boots on the cold stove hearth. Mrs. Falkner was just finishing the supper dishes. She greeted Douglas with a tired smile.
Douglas, with a resentful glance at Scott, shifted his gun belt, shoved his own hat to the back of his head, and sat down. Mrs. Falkner pitched the dish water out the back door and went into the next room.
"Well, fellows," said Charleton cheerfully, as he tipped back his chair and established his spurs beside Scott's, "there's a neat little job on the horizon. You both know the big canyon beyond Lost Chief Peak, that has the little creek that disappears under the range?"
The young men nodded, and Charleton continued.
"A Mormon named Elijah Nelson has settled there. I'm not certain of all he intends to do but I know this much: He's to homestead that canyon up there and hog the water rights on the creek. He's to be followed by nine other Mormon families. Some of 'em are going to raise cattle in the canyon. Some of 'em are going into the sheep business in the plains country beyond the canyon, where we Lost Creek folks have been in the habit of wintering our herd when the snow's too deep here. Some of us older Lost Chief men realize that these folks are the beginning of a march of Mormons up from Utah to run us Lost Chief folks out. And we're going to harry them till they are sick of living. Mormons and sheep must keep out of this country."
Douglas' eyes burned and his breath came quickly. Scott's hard young eyes did not flicker.
"We're going to ride over the range to-morrow night and the next morning gather up what we can of Nelson's herd that's grazing on Lost Chief. We'll bring 'em to a certain place I know of. I'll divide half to me, the other half to you two. Are you game?"
"I sure am," said Scott. "How many do you think we can gather in?"
"Not so many on one trip. Perhaps fifteen if we have good luck. A big herd leaves a big trail."
"There's an old corral up near the Government elevation monument," said Douglas. "It's all overgrown with bushes and young aspens so's I don't think one person out of twenty, knows it's there. Maybe we could corral 'em there?"
Charleton gave Douglas a quick glance. "How'd you come to know about it?"
"I happened on it last summer tracking a bear."
"That's what I planned to use," nodded Charleton. "We'll make a real cowman out of you yet. So you're ready to go, Doug?"
Douglas' eyes were blazing. "Go! You couldn't pay me enough to keep me away! Nothing ever happens in this old valley."
"All right! Be here by nine o'clock to-morrow night, wearing chaps. It'll be rough riding and that Moose of yours will be quite considerably broke by the time we get back, Doug. I'll supply the grub."
"Fine!" said Scott, rising. "If that's all, I'll be running along. Stage was late to-night and the crowd'll be there getting mail. I'll be with you on time, Charleton."
"Me too!" exclaimed Douglas, following Scott.
Weary as he was, Douglas was long in getting to sleep that night. Charleton Falkner was deeply admired by all the young men of Lost Chief. Not only was he of the ultra-sophisticated type, dear to adolescence, not only was he by far the cleverest hunter in the valley, but, most important of all, his name was whispered in connection with horse and cattle deals, never called questionable by Lost Chief but always mentioned with a wink and a chuckle for their adroitness. To have been asked by Charleton to go as a partner on one of his mysterious trips was intoxicating enough to take the sting out of the fact that Scott met Judith that evening at the post-office and rode home with her.
The next day Judith several times tried to discover where Doug was going and with whom.
"Don't you try tagging me again, like you did on the trip to the half-way house," he said with a warning grin, when they were finishing the evening chores together.
"No danger! I got a date of my own!" This with a toss of her curly head.
"Who with?"
"Don't you wish you knew! Other folks beside you can have interesting deals, Mr. Douglas Spencer!"
"Huh! Some little stunt with Maud, I suppose."
"No, it isn't either. Say, Doug, did you know Maud is going up to
Mountain City to stay with her aunt and go to school there?"
"I suppose that's what you'd like to do?" Doug watched the eager face closely.
"Well, not just now," replied Judith with a little grin. "I want to keep my date, first."
"Well, don't get into mischief, daughter; that's all I have to say about your mysterious deal," said Douglas paternally.
Judith laughed and carried her pail of milk into the kitchen.
It was after ten o'clock that night when Charleton led his two young henchman along the west trail, past Rodman's and up the canyon toward the first shoulder of Lost Chief Peak. The Moose did not approve of the trip. He showed his disapproval by plunging and side jumping with nerve-racking persistency. Ginger and Democrat gave him ample turning room, biting or kicking him if he drew too near them. Midway in the canyon Charleton left the trail and turned abruptly to the left, up the sheer shoulder of the mountain.
"Need a hazer, Doug?" he called.
"Where are you going to camp, Charleton?" laughed Douglas, as the Moose refused the trail.
"On the west shoulder of the peak, just under the elevation monument."
"I'll find you there. I may be delayed for a while!"
Charleton laughed too. "Just so you get there by dawn!" he called; and Douglas saw the two figures, dim in the starlight, move upward on the barren shoulder of the mountain. He allowed the Moose to circle for a moment, then he drove the rowells deep. The snorting horse leaped up the steep incline, at a pace that shortly left him groaning for breath. But Douglas spurred him relentlessly to the far tree line. Here he permitted him to breathe while he listened to the receding thud of hoofs above.
When his horse had ceased to groan, Douglas turned him toward the dark shadow of the forest. The Moose reared and turned, falling heavily. Doug was out of the saddle when it cracked against the gravel and in it when the trembling horse rolled to his feet. Doug brought the knotted reins smartly across the animal's reeking flanks.
The Moose bolted. Doug laughed and swore and for a time made no effort to guide his mount. The Moose leaped fallen trunks and low bushes. He jumped black abysses. He thrashed into trees and rocks. But he could not dislodge the figure that clung to his back with knee and spur. Douglas did not know how long this mad fight lasted, but he was beginning to be exhausted, himself, when the Moose stopped on the edge of a black drop. The horse was shaking and groaning.
"Now listen here, you Moose," said Douglas. "If you expect to be friends with me, you've got to begin to show some interest in me. I sure do admire your speed and your nerve. You're a better horse than Buster, and I don't want to break you more than I have to. But how about showing interest in me? I'm here to stay, you know, so you might as well begin to put me in your calculations. Now, just to show you're a changed horse, suppose you push up here to the right. I think there's a clear space there where I can see the stars and locate ourselves."
The Moose turned slowly under the rein, and carried Doug cleverly into an open park. Here Doug studied the brilliant heavens.
"We'll just move south, old Moose," he announced, "climbing uphill all the time, till we run into something."
The Moose worked steadily enough now, but it seemed a long time to Douglas before he saw the faint glare of a fire through the trees. Charleton and Scott looked up grinning as he rode into the circle of light. Wide bare patches showed on Doug's chaps. One sleeve of his flannel shirt was hanging by a thread. His face was bleeding from many scratches, but he grinned amicably as he slid wearily from the saddle.
"Hello, Doug! Is your horse broke yet?" asked Charleton.
"Some," replied Douglas.
"We thought we heard you a while back!" said Scott. "Sounded as if a grizzly had been bitten by a hydrophobia skunk."
"He ain't as nervous as he was," grinned Douglas. "Anything to drink?"
Charleton indicated the coffee-pot and said, "It's only a short time to dawn. Better get what sleep you can!"
Douglas nodded, drank a tin cup of coffee, and then unsaddled the Moose.
Scott, rolled in his blanket, watched him with a twisted grin.
"Some horse to take on a trip like this," he said. "A half-broke mule couldn't be worse. Funny if Doug don't gum the whole game for us, Charleton."
"You go to hell, Scott!" grunted Douglas.
Scott sat up with a jerk. Charleton spoke sharply. "No scrapping! You two get to sleep!"
Scott lay down reluctantly. Doug shrugged his broad shoulders, and shortly, head in his saddle, feet to the fire, he was fast asleep.
The trees were black against gray light when Charleton called the two young riders.
"Let's eat and be off," he said briefly.
Breakfast was a short affair of bread, bacon and coffee. While they were bolting it, Charleton outlined the campaign.
"You'll see Nelson's cattle have been all through here. No one else grazes hereabouts. Don't rope any cows with calves following 'em. They make too much bellowing. Get what steers you can by mid-morning into the old corral. There isn't one chance in a thousand we'll meet any one. Nelson's making hay five miles below here. But if any one should come along when you've roped a steer, get him to examine the brand for you, and of course if the brand isn't yours, let the critter go."
"Where is the old corral from here?" asked Scott.
"Show him, Doug," ordered Charleton.
The camp had been made just within the tree line below the peak. Above, against the glowing pink of the heavens, was etched the suave line of the peak and topping this a heap of rocks, surmounted by a staff. West of the staff and below it projected the top of a dead spruce on which sat an eagle. To this Douglas pointed.
"Down the mountain on a line with the staff and the dead spruce in a thick clump of young aspen, about an acre of it. The old corral is there."
Scott nodded. They broke camp at once and trotted off, each one for himself. The Moose was not yet a cow-pony, but, from Doug's viewpoint at least, he was now quite manageable. Any one in Lost Chief could rope a steer from a well-trained horse. Douglas proposed to repay Scott's sneer by bringing in on his half-broken mount as many animals as either of his companions on their seasoned cow-ponies. And although Doug risked his life a hundred times, four of the dozen fat steers that were milling about in the old corral by nine o'clock had been dragged in by the snorting, trembling Moose.
When Doug closed the bars on his fourth steer, he waited for a short time for Charleton and Scott, but as neither appeared, he set off after another brute. He had ridden a good mile from the corral when he heard the bellow of a bull and a shout from Charleton. He spurred the Moose in the direction of the cry. Democrat was standing with the reins over his head. Under a giant pine close by, Charleton was clinging desperately to the horns of a red bull. Blood was running over the back of his gray shirt. The bull was stamping in a circle in the vain attempt to trample his victim.
"Don't shoot!" gasped Charleton. "Rope his hind legs and throw him! By
God, I'll keep him now!"
Twice Doug's lariat darted through the air before the loop caught. But the third attempt was successful and he raced the half-maddened Moose away and jerked the bull off his feet. Charleton rolled to his own lariat lying on the ground near Democrat. He grasped the rope, rose to his knees and twirled it. It twisted about the bull's mighty neck. Charleton sank back to a sitting position and pulled the rope taut.
"Dismount and come up on him, Doug, and hog tie him," he panted.
Douglas obeyed, and shortly the bull was helpless although he continued to bellow threateningly.
"He'll have Nelson up here even if he is five miles off," said Douglas anxiously. "Better let him go."
"Take a look at my ankle, Doug," ordered Charleton. "If it's nothing worse than a sprain, I'm in luck."
With many oaths on the part of Charleton, the high riding-boot was worked off, disclosing an ankle already puffed and discolored.
"A sprain! Well, I can sit Democrat with that. Now take a look at my shoulder."
Doug turned back the bloody shirt. The bull's horn had grazed the shoulder but not deeply. Doug tied the wound up with Charleton's neckerchief. He had just finished and was beginning with his own scarf on the ankle when Scott galloped up.
"Say, you can hear that bull for a thousand miles! What the devil are you up to? I want you both to come and help me get three I've roped down the draw a couple of miles below here."
Douglas explained the accident.
"My gawd, Charleton, don't you know enough not to tackle a bull on foot?"
"How'd I know there was a bull around?" retorted the wounded man. "I dropped my rope and when I dismounted to pick it up, he came after me like a Kansas cyclone."
"Well, I'll take the bull to the corral and come back here for grub if Douglas will fix it up. We will put plenty of whiskey and hot coffee in you, Charleton. Do you think you can get home, while Doug and I ride herd?"
"I sure can! Go ahead, Scott. You'd better blind the bull."
Scott nodded, and picking up several handsful of dry dirt, he threw them into the bull's wide, bloodshot eyes. The animal snorted and tossed his head. Scott continued with handful after handful until the bull's eyes were only muddy blanks under his tossing forehead. His bellowing ceased. Then Scott removed the ropes from his hind legs and, mounting, led him away. The bull was silent and entirely occupied in attempting to rub the dirt out of his streaming eyes.
"Make it as quick as you can, Scott," called Charleton. Then to Douglas, "Get busy with the whiskey and coffee, Doug. He ought to be back by the time you've fixed up a snack."
But Scott was long in returning.
"Oughtn't he to be back?" asked Doug, when the bacon was ready.
Charleton looked at his watch. "He's been gone over an hour. After you eat, you go see what kind of trouble he's in, Doug."
Douglas devoured the bacon and bread, then mounted and rode slowly through the silent, scented forest. His blue eyes danced with excitement, his tanned cheeks burned as he guided the Moose through the quivering aspens to the corral. Here he pulled up with a sudden oath. The corral was empty, the fence torn open in half a dozen places.
"That blankety-blank old bull must have started a stampede!" gasped Douglas. "I wouldn't have thought Scott would have left him free in here!"
He rode through and around the corral. Cattle tracks led in every direction. He trotted in widening circles. Perhaps a mile north of the corral, he pulled up and looked closely at the ground. Single cattle tracks here converged and a herd track led on northward. As he stared at it, the bull came thundering down the trail. Doug put the Moose after him but had not followed him for five minutes when Scott broke into the chase from the right.
"What do you think you've done, blank you?" he shouted. "What have you done with the rest of the herd?"
"Done with the herd?" roared Douglas. "What are you talking about?"
"I know you, you dogy rider, you! I told you that wild horse of yours would gum the game. There ain't a steer left! What do you mean by riding him into the corral?"
"You're drunk!" retorted Douglas. "You'd better ride after that bull or
Charleton will pull a gun on you."
"Ride after nothing! Chase him yourself!"
"On second thoughts, I think I will. It's your turn to play nurse. Go on back and tell Charleton what's happened."
"Don't get fresh, young fellow!" snarled Scott.
Douglas pushed back his hat and the noon sun glimmered through the pines
on his yellow hair. His clear blue eyes studied Scott appraisingly.
Finally, he said, "I guess, on third thoughts, I'll take you back to
Charleton."
Scott laughed. "Now you're drunk!"
Douglas' six-shooter appeared casually between the Moose's twitching ears. "Hold up your little brown hands, Scott, till I reach me your gun. Fine! Now ride ahead of me till we reach Charleton. Some boy I am on the draw, eh, old-timer?"
Scott swore, but rode ahead at a steady trot until they reached the noonday camp. Charleton looked at them in astonishment.
"Call this damn fool off my back, will you, Charleton?" drawled Scott. "He's mad because I called him for letting that wild cayuse of his stampede the herd."
"He's a liar! This is as good a cow-pony as he ever rode and better. Ain't a better horse in Lost Chief than this same Moose. He was after the bull like a hound after a coyote when Scott broke in on us, the dirty—"
"Hold on," interrupted Charleton, "What's your story, Scott?"
"The corral is broke in forty places and all the stock gone. I suppose this fool rode his wild horse into the herd and stampeded it. I found him running the bull like he and his horse was both loco."
Douglas uttered an oath. "Nothing of the kind! When I got there, the herd was gone and I'd just picked up the trail when the bull came along."
Charleton looked from one young man to the other. Doug with his long face entirely expressionless, sitting easily sidewise in his saddle; Scott, face flushed, eyes angry, standing tense in the stirrups. There came an ugly twist to Charleton's lips, but after a moment he spoke coolly.
"You fellows help me up on Democrat and we'll beat it for home."
"But you don't believe the Moose—" began Doug. But Charleton interrupted.
"If I wasn't crippled I'd mighty soon show you fellows what I believed. As it is, I'm going home. But if I find either of you has double-crossed me, I'll square accounts."
There was that in Charleton's eyes which caused the two riders to dismount without a word. They heaved him into his saddle and, with his lariat, arranged a sling for his injured ankle. When they had made him as comfortable and secure as possible, Scott said politely:
"You don't need two of us, Charleton. I think I'll go after a bear I saw in the raspberry patch beyond the corral."
"Nothing doing, Scott!" grunted Charleton.
"You've fallen down on the job, Charleton," Scott laughed, "so you've lost your right to boss."
"No, he hasn't," said Douglas. "You come along!"
But this time Doug's six-shooter flashed no more quickly than Scott's. Charleton, his face twisted with pain, waited for a thoughtful minute before he said:
"Put up your guns, boys. Let him go, Doug," and he turned his horse eastward.
Douglas reluctantly returned his gun to his hip and Scott disappeared at a canter. The Moose followed after Democrat.
"What did you do that for, Charleton?" demanded Douglas, resentfully.
"That's just giving him the herd."
"If he has double-crossed me," returned the older man, "I'm in no shape to handle him just now. He never came back to meet you till he'd turned the herd over to an accomplice. In any case, I lose on this trick."
"But he didn't know you were going to meet up with a bull!"
"No, but he was going to keep us away from the corral, somehow. You remember he said he'd come back to get us to help him bring in some steers. Of course, you and he might be in cahoots on this, but Scott's tricky so I'm giving you some of the benefits of the doubt." Charleton turned in his saddle to favor Douglas with a suspicious stare.
"I didn't double-cross you, Charleton," said Douglas, not without a simple dignity that may or may not have impressed his mentor. At any rate, Charleton made no reply.
Douglas was entirely deflated. He drooped dejectedly in the saddle, guiding the stiff and weary Moose without interest. His wonderful expedition by which he was to establish his standing as a man with his father and Judith had ended in ignominy. He watched Charleton's painfully rigid back but he did not dare to speak to him until they were nearly home. As they neared the edge of the first line, the ground became tapestried with lilies, yellow, white and crimson. Tree-trunks turned blue against the blue skies that belled over the valley. As they descended, the Forest Reserve lifted gradually, a black green sea beyond the burning brown level of the ranches. But Douglas was in no frame of mind either to seek or to see beauty. He had a guilty sense that Charleton believed that he had failed him, and finally he summoned courage to call, "Doggone it, Charleton! I wanted to put it over, don't you suppose?"
Charleton did not answer, and when they crossed the canyon back of Rodman's, Douglas, hurt and resentful, turned the Moose onto the home trail. He had gone almost beyond hailing distance before Charleton called, "Come down and see me soon, old cattle rustler!"
Instantly Doug's spirits soared. He waved his hand with a grin and put the Moose to a trot.
It was supper time when he clanked into the kitchen. His father and mother were at the table.
"You're early, Doug!" exclaimed John.
Doug nodded. "Where's Judith?"
"Keeping that mysterious date of hers. Maud, of course! She won't be home till late. I hope it's not with Inez. You look tired, Doug."
"I am. Jude makes me sick. She's harder to watch than a boy!"
John laughed enigmatically and went out to finish his chores. Shortly,
Douglas followed him and told the story of the miscarried adventure.
"I told Charleton not to let Scott in on it," exclaimed John. "Serves him right. I sure got the laugh on Charleton this time."
"He's awful sore! Acts kind of suspicious of me," said Douglas ruefully.
"A guy like Charleton don't even trust himself." John pitched down a forkful of hay. "Have you any idea what Maud and Jude are up to?"
"No, sir. Are you worried about her?"
John laughed. "As long as Scott Parsons was with you, why worry? We'd ought to let Young Jeff run that crook out of the valley."
"I'll do it myself, some day." Douglas squared his big shoulders as he spoke. He was still very thin and his clothes hung loose on him. But his father, looking him over, did not smile.
"Go to it, boy," he said.
Douglas had planned to lie awake until Judith returned. But the minute he touched his pillow he dropped into dreamless slumber from which he did not waken until breakfast time. John was scolding Judith when Doug reached the table.
"That's all right, to be so highty-tighty. You can get away with that with your mother but not with me. It was nearly three o'clock this morning when you came in."
"O, no, John! It wasn't that late," protested Mary anxiously.
"Now, Mary, don't put up one of your fool lies for the little devil.
I know what time it was. What excuse have you, miss?"
Judith, who was looking tired, but singularly self-satisfied, answered demurely, "I was out on business, Dad. And I'm going to get pay for it, too. A horse that will really buck."
John's face was flushing when Douglas spoke. "Aw, let her keep her secret, Dad! I don't think she's done a thing but rope a stray pony."
Judith protested quickly. "Nothing of the kind! If you three just knew what I have done, you'd respect me. Anyway, Doug, I know where you were. Over on Fire Mesa with Charleton Falkner."
"Who told you that?" grinned Douglas.
"Somebody that knew. Dad, why don't you get after Doug like you do after me? What was he doing over on Fire Mesa, all night?"
"That's right, Doug! What were you doing on Fire Mesa?" asked John, all a broad smile now that infuriated Judith.
She jumped up from the table, took down her milking pail and went out. Nor did she give Douglas opportunity to talk to her during the rest of the day. Not until twilight had settled in the valley did Douglas find her alone. Then, searching for her, he discovered her behind the corral, curled up against the new alfalfa stack, her eyes on the sunset glow above Lost Chief Peak.
Douglas sat down beside her. "I didn't mean to tease you, this morning,
Jude. I was just trying to steer Dad off."
"But you always do think my stunts never amount to anything, Doug!"
"Have I said a word like that, lately? I can't help being anxious, can I, when a girl like you stays out until three in the morning?"
"Yes, you were so anxious your snores shook the house!" returned Judith. "Now admit, Doug, that you really think it was nothing worth worrying about."
"Well, I don't see how it could be anything so very important."
"There, I knew it! Doug, I'm so proud of myself that if I don't tell some one, I'll burst. Give me your word of honor you'll never give it away and I'll tell you."
"I swear I'll die before I'll peep!"
"Still think it's funny, don't you! All right, mister, prepare to faint!
I was out helping Scott Parsons run cattle."
Douglas gasped.
"There, Doug Spencer! You're such a wonder! Of course," honestly, "I didn't do the hardest part. Scott had got 'em all together in a corral before I got there. But I held the herd in a little canyon for a couple of hours while he got old Nelson off the scent. Then we drove 'em across the ridge, down into the desert country west of Mesa Pass. He's going to sell 'em in Mountain City and my share is a good bucking horse, like I told you."
Douglas sat perfectly still, so torn by conflicting emotions that for a time he was speechless. Finally, from the chaos of his mind rose an overwhelming anger.
"Do you think that's a decent thing to do? A girl, running cattle and with a confessed murderer at that? I sure am ashamed of you, Jude!"
"Can you beat a man!" cried Judith to the flaming heavens. "He won't even give me credit for being a cattle wrangler! And he says he loves me!"
Doug's voice was furious. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, stealing cattle and running round with that Inez Rodman!"
"You just be careful of what you say, Doug Spencer!" "Careful! Why should
I be careful. You aren't careful!"
"I'm a whole lot better than you, at that! If it's so smart for you to do all these things, why isn't it for me?"
"A woman has to be good. It's her job to be good. If she isn't good in a cattle country like this, everything goes to pieces."
"It's a wonder you men don't set us women an example," said Judith coolly.
"Don't I try to keep you straight?"
"Yeh! A wonderful example you set me!"
Douglas' voice broke with anger. "Don't talk like a fool! The world isn't like that! The women have to be good. The men want 'em to be, no matter how hard they try to make the women bad. And the more you care for a girl, the more you want her to be perfect."
"The world is plumb loco and you with it!"
"You're as cold as a dead rabbit!" exclaimed Doug,
Judith laughed mirthlessly. "Yes, I'm cold! I'm as cold as fire!" And suddenly she put her head down on her knees and burst into tears.
Instantly Douglas melted. He put his arms about. Judith and drew her head to his shoulder. "O Jude! Don't! If I could only make you see it's my love for you makes me so mad!"
"You,—you don't want me to have any fun!" sobbed Judith. "How'd you like to be asked to give up everything yourself and stay home like a woman?"
"I wouldn't like it. But a regular girl oughtn't to want to do such things."
"Why not? I like horses and dogs and the wind on Fire Mesa just as much as you do. And dancing and hunting by moonlight and getting away with somebody else's cattle and all of it. I love it! And you ask me to give it up because you want me to be good. What do you call good, anyhow?"
Douglas did not answer at once. In the first place, Judith's flushed cheek in his neck upset his equilibrium, and in the second place he was overwhelmed with a sudden consciousness of the truth of Peter's statement, that he had not a clean-cut idea to his name.
But finally he stammered, "Well, I call being good not drinking or stealing or being loose with men or any of those things—for a girl."
"And for a man?" asked Judith, sitting erect.
"Aw, who wants a man to be good?" laughed Douglas.
"I do," replied Judith, with a sudden thrilling intensity in her young voice. "I want his strength to be as the strength of ten, because his heart is pure,"
"Judith, you really do?"
"Yes, I really do."
Douglas drew a long breath. "Judith, would you want me to be that way?"
"I sure would."
"Well, then, Judith, so help me God, I will be!"
Judith put her slender, muscular hand on Doug's, swallowed hard once or twice, but said nothing. Then the tense moment past, she asked, "Honest, Doug, don't you think that was kind of a smart stunt of mine?"
"I certainly do," with heart-felt conviction. "But I want you to promise me one thing. That you won't run any more cattle. Will you, Jude?"
"I'll promise you, if you'll promise me," returned Judith promptly.
"But it's different with a man," repeated Douglas.
"But you promised about that other."
"That was different. It was something personal between you and me. The other is business."
"All right! I don't promise unless you do."
"I can't promise, Jude. Honest, I can't."
Jude laughed and jumped to her feet. "You are a goose, Doug, but I sure am fond of you." Then she left him.
Douglas sat still, his head pressed against the indescribable sweetness of the alfalfa hay, eyes on the wonder of the stars. Finally he said aloud, "I wish there was somebody a fellow could talk to that knows things. I wish my grandfather Douglas was alive. Peter jaws too much. What I want is to know facts, then judge for myself."
His father passed by the haystack, pitchfork on shoulder. "Who are you talking to, Doug?" he asked.
"The biggest fool in Lost Chief," replied Douglas, rising and following his father to the house.
CHAPTER VI
LITTLE SWIFT CROSSES THE DIVIDE
"Ride 'em till they drop, then break another. That's what Nature does and that's what I do."
—John Spencer
The following afternoon when Douglas rode after the mail he went round by the west trail to call on Charleton. He found the crippled philosopher propped up in bed, reading the Atlantic Monthly and smoking a pipe. Mrs. Falkner and Little Marion were in the corral doing the chores.
"Well, how's the Moose after his disappointment?" asked Charleton.
"Going strong! Any news of Scott?"
"No; I don't expect any news for a week till I get on my feet."
"I guess we might as well let him go and try again without him," said Doug, looking out the door at Little Marion, who was astride a saddleless mule which was doing its best to climb the corral fence.
Charleton grinned. "No one can double-cross me without my taking the trouble to show him he can't do it twice, can they, Marion?" as his wife came in with an armload of wood she had just split.
"You are as revengeful as a wolf, if that's what you mean," replied Mrs.
Falkner. "Not that you've tried it on me."
Charleton gave her an amused glance not unmixed with admiration.
"I don't know that even a wolf would tackle a lynx cat," he chuckled.
Douglas looked from the beautiful woman around the homelike room. "You're a lucky chap, Charleton," he said suddenly.
Mrs. Falkner had picked up her sewing-basket. "Nobody with a mind like
Charleton's is so awful lucky," she said.
"Ouch!" grinned Charleton, and lighted his pipe afresh.
Douglas pondered on Mrs. Falkner's remark on his way back to the post-office. Peter was sitting on the doorstep with Sister. The mail had been distributed and most of Lost Chief had come and gone.
"That horse is tired, Doug," said Peter. "What have you been doing?
Running him to break him?"
"Aw, he's all right," protested Douglas. "Don't climb a tree about him,
Peter. I want to talk to you. Make Sister move over."
"Sister," said Peter, "don't you want to go down and speak nice to your old friend Prince?"
Prince, standing before the platform with slavering tongue, bright eyes shining, wagged his tail in a conciliatory manner. Sister sniffed, growled, whimpered, then walked deliberately down the steps and said something to Prince. He barked and they trotted over to the plains east of the post-office.
"She's got a dead coyote she keeps up there for her special friends," said Peter. "What's your trouble, Doug?"
Douglas sat down in Sister's place. "I've been over to see Charleton, and his wife said something that struck me as queer." He repeated Marion's comment.
Peter laughed. "The women in this valley beat any bunch I've seen anywhere. If the men were their equals, there wouldn't be a spot in the world could touch Lost Chief. What do you think of Charleton's mind, Doug?"
"I think he's a wonder. He's lived, that guy."
"Any guy of forty has lived. It's the way they look at life that makes men different. Charleton hasn't any faith in anything good. That's why he's unlucky. Don't let him influence you too much, Doug. I like Charleton but he's not good medicine for a boy of your kind. Have you thought anything about my offer of a couple of months ago?"
"Not much. I'm putting in most of my time worrying about Jude."
"Has she been doing anything special?"
"Well, yes. If I could just make her care for me, it would be easy. But, Peter, she cares a lot more for that poor old broken down Swift than she does for me."
"She's just a child. You'll have to be patient, Doug."
"I am patient, Peter. But, in the meantime, Scott, or—" He hesitated, then went on. "I tell you, this caring for a woman who don't care for you is hell, Peter!"
Peter stared off toward Fire Mesa, with its rolling clouds of red, and answered seriously, "Yes, it is, Douglas. But I told you in June all that I could think of, in regard to Judith, and you got sore at me."
"Well, I'm not sore now. I was a fool. Here comes Jimmy Day. Give me my mail, Peter, and I'll beat it. I'm in no frame of mind to talk to a kid."
Jimmy, who was perhaps a year older than Douglas, pulled his sweating horse to its haunches. His dog, a mongrel collie, ran up the trail to meet the returning Sister and Prince. There was a whining colloquy, then the three dogs turned back.
"Must be a scandal somewhere," suggested Jimmy.
"No, just a dead coyote," said Peter. "Sister ran him down yesterday.
Ain't a dog in the State outside of a greyhound can touch her."
Douglas made a flying leap into the saddle while the Moose whirled on his hind legs.
"Some horse, Doug!" exclaimed Jimmy. "I'll swap this and a two-year-older heifer for him."
"I'm afraid he might hurt you. He's a regular man's horse, Jimmy." Doug lighted a cigarette while the Moose reared.
"Thanks," grunted Jimmy. "Say, did you know Scott Parsons has had four young calves by one milch cow, all the same age? Ree-markable man, Scott. Say, I was by there the other day and there sat Scott in the corral on Ginger cracking a black snake at this fool cow to make her let those four slicks eat. He'll die rich, Scott will. He's the calf-gettingest rider in the Rockies."
Douglas turned the Moose into the home trail. When he reached the ranch, Judith was strolling in the main corral with her arm about the neck of the bull Scott had given her. He would follow Judith about like a pet dog but would allow no one else to touch him.
"When he is a little older, you won't be able to play with him that way, Jude," said Douglas, eying the pair with admiration not untinctured with apprehension.
It was a brilliant afternoon, with the western sun throwing long golden shadows across old Dead Line Peak. The corral with its fringe of quivering aspens a silvery lavender; the great red bull; the young girl with her noble proportions, rubbing the brute's ferocious head with one slender brown hand, made an unforgettable picture. The puppy, Wolf Cub, was chewing an old boot beside the alfalfa stack.
"He'll always be fond of me if I handle him right," said Judith. "Won't you, Sioux? I'm going to saddle him, some day, Doug."
"Well, not while I'm around," exclaimed the young rider, as he pulled the bridle over the Moose's head. "Say, have you seen Scott yet?"
"No. Why?"
"I pity him. Charleton sure is after him."
"Charleton? Why?"
Douglas shrugged his shoulders. "You ask Scott why," and he strode off to his chores.
Doug did not see Charleton again for several days. But one afternoon, about a week after the return from the hunt, they met at the post-office and Charleton, who wanted to see John, rode home with him.
"Scott is back," said Doug.
"Yes; I saw him yesterday." Charleton smiled. "I found out who was his helper on that little deal."
"You did! How?" Douglas' voice was so sharp that the Moose jumped nervously.
"I bought the information. Swapped him something for it."
"Who was it? Do you believe him?" Doug spoke a little breathlessly.
"I don't know. I'm going to check up on it now."
"Charleton, who did he say it was? Please, Charleton!"
The older man turned to look suspiciously at Doug. "How long have you known it?"
"You've no call to speak that way to me," cried Douglas.
"Humph! Well, he says it was that young devil of a Jude."
"Look here, Charleton, don't say anything to my father about it. He'll go crazy."
"I don't know what I'll do. I'll talk to Jude, first." And Charleton would say no more.
He found Judith in the milking shed, and while he talked to her there Douglas engaged his father's attention in the living-room. Here Judith swept upon them.
"Doug Spencer, as long as I live, I'll not speak to you again! You promise breaker, you—"
"Wait, Jude! I haven't told anybody. Did I tell you, Charleton?"
"I've told her that you didn't but she won't believe me," grinned
Charleton.
"Scott wouldn't have told. Doug was the only one that knew!" Judith paced the floor.
"What the devil has broke loose?" demanded John.
"Now you have started something, Jude," groaned Douglas.
"Judith! Do calm down!" pleaded her mother, who had taken her hands out of the biscuit dough and now stood, twisting her fingers, in the doorway.
"Well," said Charleton, "I don't know any reason why I should keep quiet after the pretty names Jude has called me. It was Judith that helped Scott double-cross us up on Lost Chief Peak. She claims she didn't know it was our deal."
"She didn't, either!" cried Douglas stoutly.
John gasped, "Jude! She got away with your cattle, Charleton? That sure-gawd is funny! Jude! O Lord!" And John burst into a tornado of laughter that lasted until he dropped weakly on his bed.
Judith stared at him, uncertainly, as did her mother. Douglas scowled. Charleton lighted a cigarette. "Of course, it has its humorous side," said Charleton, as John's shouts died down. "But I've served notice on Scott and I serve notice on Judith now, that I'm not the man who kisses the hand that spoils his deals."
This remark sobered John. "You're right, too, Charleton. Jude, how'd you come to do such a fool thing?"
"How'd Doug and Charleton come to do such a fool thing?" asked Judith.
"Scott and I had as good a right to run cattle off them as they had off
Elijah Nelson."
"O Judith! Judith!" exclaimed her mother.
"You know how I feel about Scott Parsons!" cried John. "Jude, I'm going to punish you for this so you'll never forget it.'"
"In other words, if Doug runs cattle, he's admired. If I run cattle, I'm punished!" Jude's fine eyes were flashing, her tanned cheeks burning.
"Doug's a boy; you're a girl," replied John. "And I've told you to let
Scott Parsons alone."
"I wish I were dead!" exclaimed Jude.
"Well," said Charleton casually, "I must be getting back home." No one heeded him as he clanked out the door.
"How are you going to punish Jude, Dad?'" demanded Douglas.
"Doug," cried Judith, "you keep out of my affairs from now on! I'll show you that you can't break a promise to me."
"Judith, I tell you that I never breathed a word."
"I know better. Scott wouldn't be such a fool. And he told me not an hour ago that Charleton said you'd given me away. And, anyhow, I think more of Scott Parsons than I do of you and Dad put together! He's not always jawing at me. He thinks I'm just right as I am."
Douglas drew himself up, angry and offended.
"You'll come after me, miss, before I speak to you again!"
"That's exactly what I want!" retorted Judith.
During this dialogue, Mary stood with the tears running down her cheeks, begging the two to stop quarreling. John leaned against the table, his eyes half closed, his mouth distorted.
"So that's how the land lies with Scott?" he shouted suddenly.
"Yes, and if you lay hands on me, I'll shoot you," said Judith succinctly.
"I know how to get you, miss," sneered John.
He rushed out of the house. A moment later he galloped past the window on Beauty. Judith walked defiantly to the door and looked after him. Douglas went out to the corral. Shortly, John returned, leading Swift. He pulled up in front of the door and dismounted. He kicked Swift in the haunch to make her turn, and before Judith could do more than start toward him from the door, he put his six-shooter to Swift's patient little head and pulled the trigger. Swift dropped to her knees and rolled over.
"Now, Jude, try it again and I'll give Buster a dose," said John, standing tense as he waited for the girl's attack.
But with a look of such horror that John recoiled, she stopped in her tracks. She threw her arms about her head with a groan, ran across the yard to the stable and climbed into the hay-loft. Douglas stood for a moment as if turned to stone. Then he picked up a bridle and went into the corral for the Moose. As he adjusted the saddle, John led Beauty to the fence.
"You finish those chores, Doug!"
Douglas went on tightening the cinch.
"It was just a broken-down cow pony that should have been shot long ago," said John, sullenly.
Douglas leaped into the saddle, took the fence like a swallow, and was gone. Prince yelped on the trail before him.
Where he was going, Doug did not know. He thrust the spurs into the Moose and set him straight up the sheer barren side of Falkner's Peak until the Moose was winded, then he dismounted and led him up and up until they both were exhausted. Then Doug looped the reins over a clump of sage-brush and dropped to the ground. Prince squatted beside him, panting.
A blind despair had engulfed Doug. He could think of nothing to do. Nothing that would adequately punish his father, nothing that would solace Judith or bring her to her senses.
Nothing is so intolerably bitter to youth as its first realization of the fact that one is helpless to change life as it is. Douglas, biting his nails and railing at the heavens, was draining one of life's bitterest drinks. He was in deep trouble, utterly alone, and he had no spiritual star for guidance.
But when he finally descended the mountainside he had taken a resolve. He was going to leave home for a while. He was going to work for Charleton, who was greatly in need of a rider. He was not yet of age, but he was not afraid of John's forcing him to return.
His father and mother were in bed when he reached home. Judith's bed was empty. Douglas went out to the stable and climbed noiselessly to the loft. On the hay close to the open door lay Judith, her face dimly outlined in the moonlight. She was still sobbing in her sleep. Douglas stood looking down on her till his own eyes were tear-blinded. Then he knelt in the hay and kissed her softly on the lips. She stirred but did not open her eyes, and he slipped back to the ladder and down, without a sound.
He went to bed at once but was up in the morning before his father, leaving a note on the kitchen table:
I am going to work for Charleton till things are better here at home.
Douglas.
He found Charleton grooming Democrat. "Charleton," he said, "you made a lot of trouble for Jude last night."
"What happened?" asked Charleton.
Douglas told him.
"That was a rotten trick!" exclaimed Charleton. "I just thought he'd lick her. John's got a mean temper."
"I want to work for you a while, Charleton. I'm sick of the rows at home."
"John willing?"
"I haven't asked him."
Charleton grinned. "I need a rider, sure. You finish currying Democrat while I go in and talk to the missis. Little Marion's visiting at Lone Bend. Maybe my wife will think it's too much cooking for two men." But he came back in a little while, smiling cheerfully. "Come on in to breakfast. It's all right."
So Douglas settled to riding for Charleton Falkner. His father did not come after him, and when the two met on the Black Gorge trail a day or so after Doug's departure, John returned Douglas' muttered greeting with a silent, ugly stare. There was comment and conjecture in Lost Chief, but the fall round-up was coming and this soon engrossed the attention of the community. Of Scott, Douglas saw nothing.
The fall slipped into winter, which in Lost Chief country begins in September, and Christmas passed with none of the Spencers at the schoolhouse party excepting Judith, who attended with Scott. February slipped into March and Douglas' eighteenth birthday passed unnoticed. The snows were too deep to allow Charleton to undertake any of those mysterious missions for which he was so much admired, and Elijah Nelson was allowed to flourish unmolested. It was reported that the Mormon had accused Lost Chief of running some of his cattle, but he evidently had no desire to start a controversy with the valley. And Douglas came more and more under Charleton's influence.
Peter Knight, watching the boy more closely than Doug at all realized, was deeply troubled by what he felt might permanently distort Doug's ideas of life.
"How are you and Judith making it, Doug?" Peter asked him one Sunday afternoon early in April, when he and the young rider were sunning themselves in the post-office door.
"You know Judith hasn't spoken to me since last August," replied Doug impatiently.
"Too bad!" grunted Peter.
"O, I don't know," replied Douglas. "I don't see much to this marriage game anyhow. Look at the couples round here and point me out any of 'em that's been married over five years that're really in love. Just a houseful of brats and a woman to nag you."
"Dry up, Doug! You are just quoting Charleton Falkner. I've heard plenty of his empty ideas in the last twenty years. You've worked for him long enough, anyhow. Better go back to your home; or if you're through with Jude, take my offer and go East to school."
"Forget it, Peter! As soon as Fire Mesa opens up, I'm going after wild horses with Charleton. And you can roast him all you want to, but he knows life."
"Knows your foot!" snorted Peter. "If anybody could catch Charleton with his skin off, we'd find he gets happiness and sorrow out of the same things the rest of us do. He's just a big bluff, Charleton is."
"He's lived too much to let anything get him," said Douglas stoutly.
Peter laughed. "Nobody can accuse you of having lived too much, Douglas." Then he added soberly, "You're disappointing me a lot, Douglas. I never thought you'd let go of Jude."
"Jude let go of me," replied Douglas. "I suppose she thought I'd come running back to her, but she's mistaken. I'm through with women."
"Don't talk like an idiot, Doug," said Peter, after a long careful look at Douglas' face. "I know you. You are breaking your heart this minute for Judith. And she misses you a whole lot more than she'll admit."
"How do you know? Have you talked to her?" asked Douglas quickly. "How are things going up there?"
"Yes, I've talked to her. She's all right, but she's getting too many of Inez' ideas in her head. She says John doesn't say ten words a day. You'd better go back, Doug."
"Go back! With Jude believing I double-crossed her and nothing but rows going all the time? I'll admit I'm unhappy, but at least it's peaceful at Charleton's. He and his wife don't fight. I tell you that if home's just a place to fight in, I don't want a home."
"What do you want, Douglas?" asked Peter.
"I don't know," muttered the young rider.
"I know," said Peter softly. "You want a guiding star, you want something that's not to be found in this valley, an ideal fine enough to save your soul alive. You come of stock that lived and died by a spiritual idea, Doug, and you are going to be unhappy till you find one."
Douglas turned this over in his mind soberly for a few minutes. "Have you got one, Peter?" he finally asked, wistfully.
"No! I might have had if your mother had lived. She was an idealist if ever there was one. Work yourself out a plan, Doug, that is based on something fine, then fight to put it over. That's the only way you'll ever be contented."
"What I want," cried Douglas, "is something to take away this emptiness inside of me."
"Exactly! And I'm telling you how. And the reason I know is because I started out in life with the idea that women and the day's work were enough. Maybe they are for a man like your father, though I doubt it. But a man like you or me isn't built for promiscuity either in love or in work. We are the kind that have to choose a fine, straight line and then hew to it, keep our faith in it, never leave it."
He paused for so long a time that Douglas stirred uneasily, then said,
"How did you learn different, Peter?"
"By doing all the things that impulse and youth suggested, regardless of any suggestions or advice, and arriving at middle life with my mind and heart as empty as yours. Don't do it, Doug. It makes tragedy of old age."
Douglas rose slowly. "I don't see what in the world I can do with myself," he said heavily, and he rode back to Charleton's ranch.
Books had perhaps been Douglas' greatest solace that long winter. Charleton had a good many, mostly representing his young delvings into the realms of agnosticism. His later purchases simmered down to a few volumes of poetry. There were several of Shakespeare's plays around the cabin and these Douglas read again and again. He did not see much of Little Marion, who was a great gad-about, and who, when she was at home, was monopolized by Jimmy Day. Mrs. Falkner he found immensely companionable. She had a half-caustic wit which he enjoyed, but he liked best to have her argue with Charleton on what she called his dog-eat-dog theory of life.