“Josephine’s dog,” he said aloud.
“What did you say, Jack?” Big Joe called from within.
“Josephine’s dog is coming down the trail and is limping badly,” he answered excitedly.
“Limping, you say, Jack?” Big Joe asked as he came out of the bunkhouse, the cowboys at his back.
“Yes,” Mason answered, “he must have got hurt some way.”
“Come here, old fellow,” he called, for the dog was almost up to them now.
The dog gave a whine of delight as he limped up to Mason and crouched at his feet.
“Poor fellow, his foot is bleeding,” he said as he bent over to examine the injured member. “Why, what’s this?” His eye had caught sight of something white tied to the dog’s collar.
He hastily unfastened the white object and was holding it up for the others to see, when a piece of paper fell to the ground.
“Josephine’s handkerchief and a note!” he cried, aghast, staring hard at the white missive.
Quickly snatching it up he read its contents.
“For God’s sake, boys,” he cried, his face blanching white.
“This note is from Josephine herself. She fastened it to Rover’s collar and sent him home. That message the Spanish girl brought is a decoy, and is leading Bud and his men into an ambush!”
Exclamations of fury broke from the men at his words. Big Joe instantly began giving orders to the cowboys after Mason had read the contents of the note to them.
“Into your saddles, boys,” the big cowboy thundered, his face pale and resolute. “I know a short cut to the Gap, and we’ll be in at the death if we can’t head Bud off. Ride, men, as you never rode before.”
The cowboys were in their saddles in a twinkling, and bending low on their horses’ necks they rode like demons in a race against odds.
Mason wanted to get his automobile out and join in the race against death, but Big Joe wouldn’t listen to his plan.
“It wouldn’t be of any use to us the way we are going into the mountains,” he said, gritting his teeth.
Pomp, the dusky cook, had been dispatched to the house with the note so the ranch owner would know why they had left in such a hurry. Scotty, who had the fastest horse among the cowboys, was drawing gradually away from them.
“Take the short cut, Scotty,” Big Joe ordered him. “When you make the Gap if you hear heavy firing, don’t join Bud, but start blazing away at the halfbreed’s gang and draw their fire. When we get there we’ll open fire on them from a different direction and hem them in if we ain’t too late. Do you get me, Scotty?” he yelled after him.
“I sure do,” the answer floated back to them. Scotty was riding low in the saddle, jockey style. He was making the ride of his life.
Mason was in a fever of suspense. His horse seemed to be only crawling along.
“Do you think we will be able to head Bud off in time?” There was a catch to his voice as he put the question to Big Joe, who was riding near him.
“Bud has only got about an hour’s start on us, and with the short cut we’re taking I have hope of saving him. If Scotty follows my instructions, everything will go all right, but I am afraid he will attempt to join Bud and get wiped out along with the rest of them. He’s such a hot-headed chump that if he runs into the halfbreed’s gang before Bud’s men do, it would be just like him to tackle them singlehanded,” came the unpromising answer.
The cowboys had turned off the main trail and had struck into the first range of foothills. Here, the climbing was extremely difficult, and a false step or a loose stone would send man and beast to certain death.
They were following a trail leading up into the mountains on the brink of a deep gorge.
Once, Mason’s horse stumbled and he gave himself up for lost with a prayer on his lips, but the faithful animal caught a secure footing again, although he could feel the horse quiver under him.
“Close call, old top,” he said cheerfully to his horse, as he patted him on the neck.
After an age, as it had seemed to Mason, of this kind of travel they reached a small plateau high in the mountains. Big Joe, who was in advance, called a halt, and raised a warning hand.
“Keep quiet as possible, men,” he said as the cowboys dismounted and crowded around him.
“There is Devil’s Gap just to the right of us a within good rifle shot. Scotty must be close by, too. Now, if the halfbreed and Powers are waiting there for Bud, they will keep under cover until he and his men show themselves through the pass. What we have got to do is to pick off the halfbreed’s men before they can get in their deadly work. I figure that they will show themselves just as soon as Bud gets through the pass. We won’t be able to see Bud’s men from here, but them devils will have to show themselves to us, and it’s up to you men to get them first.”
The men silently unslung their saddle guns. They each carried a thirty-thirty Remington repeater. Lying prone on the ground, they covered the plateau of Devil’s Gap while the minutes passed slowly. It was a range of about four hundred yards.
From a point of rock which they had their eyes glued upon, they saw the form of a man rise up with a leveled rifle in his hands.
“Bud must be coming through the pass, get that fellow!” Big Joe cried in a hoarse whisper.
Before the words had died from his mouth a shot rang out and the man with the gun pitched forward.
The shot that laid him low had come from somewhere on their left.
“That’s Scotty getting in some of his fine work,” Big Joe said with a chuckle.
Instantly five other men sprang from behind the rock and the firing became general. At the first shot Bud and his men had charged through the pass and taken to cover. Scotty’s shot had warned Bud that something was amiss and had put him on his guard. The firing had become too hot for the halfbreed and his cut-throats, and they had dropped back behind the rock again.
What they had intended for an ambush had been turned into a siege and they were the besieged.
The one who first rose up from behind the rock still lay where he had fallen. Big Joe commenced signaling to Bud to let him know of their presence.
“There were six men in the halfbreed’s gang, wonder where he got them all?” pondered Mason.
“The fellow that dropped first is one of them four men that joined Ricker’s lately. They are the men that Bud rounded up and sent to prison five years ago,” answered Tex.
“I believe you’re right,” agreed Big Joe. “It would be an easy matter for the halfbreed to get them to join him if they thought they had a chance to get Bud.”
A long silence followed, to be broken by a shot still farther off to their left. The firing increased to a volley of shots.
“Scotty is making it warm for them again,” said with a grin. “He is working around rear of them.”
“They can’t stand that hot fire much longer,” declared Big Joe. “Get ready for the men, they will make a charge soon.”
Five minutes later the halfbreed and his men broke cover and charged into the open, intending to fight their way through. Bud and his men advanced to meet them, and the rifle fire grew so hot that Powers and the halfbreed broke and ran. The men that Bud had sent to prison held firm, and walked straight into his fire with curses on their lips. Bud had been slightly wounded, and with bullets kicking up the earth all around him, it was a wonder he was not killed outright. Bud and Red Sullivan had dropped to their knees and were pumping a hail of bullets into the survivors of the halfbreed’s gang. Slowly they crumpled up and the fight was over.
“Get after Powers and the halfbreed, they are trying to escape,” Bud called to Big Joe.
Mason, who had been trying to get a shot at the ringleaders, saw them break and run like the cowards they were. He immediately set out after them in the hope that they would lead him to Josephine, and he intended to pick up Scotty, who had worked around in the direction of the fleers.
Big Joe had seen Mason mount his horse and start. He shouted something after him, but Mason was too far away to hear. Mason had determined to capture the halfbreed and Powers, and rescue Josephine, if it cost him his life. He kept a sharp lookout for Scotty, but could see no sign of him. Just ahead of him was a break in the mountains, and as he swung through it his keen eyes caught sight of his game. Powers and the halfbreed were only a short distance ahead of him.
They had seen him at the same instant. Mason’s eyes glittered. He pulled a heavy Colt revolver, emptying its chambers after them. A yell of defiance was flung back at him. The halfbreed was riding Josephine’s horse and, pulling sharply around, returned his shots.
The bullets sang uncomfortably close to his ears. His horse was behaving badly and he suddenly determined on a ruse. Powers had halted and was taking careful aim at him. Mason abruptly checked his horse and flung himself to the ground, pulling his saddle gun with him, just as Powers commenced firing.
His horse had been hit and let out an agonizing cry. The outlaws gave a cry of exultation when they saw him fall, thinking he had been killed. Mason had dropped near a large rock and kept a firm grip on his gun. Lying on his shoulder, he drew the rifle to his cheek and taking steady aim, fired.
The halfbreed reeled in the saddle and toppled off. A yell of surprise came from Powers, which quickly changed to alarm as one of Mason’s bullets nipped his face. He wheeled his horse and was off in a flash. It was Mason’s turn to be in an exultant mood. Running swiftly to where the halfbreed had fallen, he caught Josephine’s horse and sprang into the saddle.
The halfbreed cursed him as he mounted. He paid no attention to the cut-throat’s blasphemies as he urged Fleet to top speed.
“Now, Powers, we’re on something like equal terms,” he gritted to himself.
He began to rapidly overhaul the outlaw. The fugitive was getting desperate, and fired back at him several times, but his aim was poor. His grim pursuer was fast cutting down the distance between them.
Powers had his eyes set on a pass to a canyon just ahead of him and was making frantic efforts to reach it ahead of his pursuer. Mason saw his purpose, and spoke encouraging words to his panting horse.
“Faster, Fleet, faster, old boy, we’re going to save your mistress!”
The noble beast responded with a fresh burst of speed. Powers had reached the pass, and abandoning his horse took to his heels, disappearing through the pass. Mason quickly made the pass, dismounted, and looking to his weapons, plunged after him. He could hear his man from an occasional stone he dislodged. He was climbing the steep side of the gorge. Soon, the faint sounds from the outlaw ceased. Mason was puzzled and afraid the fugitive would give him the slip, but he determined to keep on climbing the steep side of the gorge, while running a chance of getting shot from ambush.
After a laborious climb he reached a small plateau where he beheld a sight that brought a cry of rage from his lips. It was Josephine struggling in the arms of the outlaw!
Mason instantly threw his rifle to his shoulder.
“Hands up! Powers, or I’ll fire,” he called sharply.
Powers looked up startled, and with bloodshot eyes.
“Shoot!” he cried savagely, swinging Josephine in front of him as a shield.
Mason lowered his gun in dismay.
“Why don’t you shoot?” Powers taunted him, still holding the girl in front of him.
“You coward!” Mason flung the words at him, his eyes blazing with fury. “Drop the girl and fight me like a man. I’ll fight you empty handed.” Suiting the action to his words, he threw his rifle and revolver on the ground.
Powers sneered.
“If you value this girl’s life, don’t move from your tracks,” he said, with a brutal oath, holding a knife up to Mason’s horrified eyes. “I’ll kill her with this knife if you don’t leave your guns here. Go back down the gorge and give me thirty minutes’ start and you can save her life. I am going to the coast with her and we’ll get married.”
“Powers, you’re crazy,” Mason answered to gain time. “If you harm that girl, I’ll hound you to your grave.”
Josephine had given a cry of delight when Mason first had borne down on Powers. Now, she had ceased struggling and was watching Mason with imploring eyes.
Powers showed signs of uneasiness. He was in fear his other pursuers would show up any minute.
“Come, give me thirty minutes’ start or the girl dies!” he threatened.
Great beads of sweat started on Mason’s forehead. He had about made up his mind to obey the fiend’s demand and take a chance of rescuing the girl later, when the sharp crack of a rifle broke the awful stillness, followed by a yell from above them.
Powers clapped his hand to his side and pitched forward on his face. Mason looked up to see where the yell and shot had come from, and saw Scotty standing on a huge boulder holding a smoking rifle in his hands and waving his hat at them. The girl stood looking down at Powers as though in a daze.
Mason leaped quickly to her side.
“Oh, Jack,” Josephine cried, her eyes swimming with tears, and collapsed in his arms.
Mason’s heart beat violently as he held the dead weight of the girl in his arms. Tenderly he laid her down and hastily made a pillow of his coat to support her head. There was a spring close by and he filled his hat with the cool water and bathed her temples. His efforts were rewarded by a flutter of her eyelids just as Scotty came up and joined them. With a little gasp the girl rose weakly to her feet and stared with dilated eyes at Powers. He was lying on the ground with both hands clutched to his side and groaning.
“Is he dying?” The girl motioned the question to them with dry lips.
“He’s turned his last trick,” Scotty answered, grimly. “The bullet struck him in a vital spot. I had him covered for over five minutes, but didn’t dare fire for fear of hitting you.”
Josephine gave him a grateful look.
“I want to thank you both for saving my life,” she said in a voice deep with emotion.
Scotty mumbled something under his breath and seemed pleased at her praise, while Mason silently pressed her offered hand, his voice too full for words.
“Come, take me home,” she requested with a shudder, after glancing again at Powers.
The outlaw breathed his last just as they were taking their departure. They planned to send Bud and his men back to look after the removal of his body.
“Powers got his just desert,” was Scotty’s comment, as they made their way down the gorge.
Josephine gradually threw off the feeling of depression which had seized her. When they reached the trail leading out of the gorge, she saw her own favorite horse, Fleet. He was quietly grazing where Mason had left him. With a glad cry the girl ran up to him, and throwing her arms around his neck gave him a regular bear hug.
Fleet seemed equally pleased to see his mistress and voiced his appreciation with a low whinny of delight. Scotty insisted on having Mason ride his horse while the Scot rode the horse that Josephine had ridden at the time of her capture by the outlaws.
The girl was in high spirits again by this time, and lightly springing into the saddle started Fleet towards home. She rode slowly while she related her experiences with the outlaws from the time of her capture.
Scotty, in turn, explained how he came to arrive in time to put an end to the outlaw’s career.
He had miscalculated his horse’s speed and in making a wide detour had got far in the outlaw’s rear. Hearing only faint sounds of firing he determined to search for Josephine while waiting for the cowboys to come up. He had left his horse at the bottom of a deep gorge and started to climb a trail that led to a high plateau where he hoped to get a better view of the locality. He had made the summit and climbed up on a huge boulder when his startled eyes took in the scene already described.
“My finger itched when I drew down on that cutthroat, but he had you swung in front of him and I had to wait my chance,” Scotty concluded, addressing Josephine.
Mason told Scotty of his part in the chase, and as they were now nearing the spot where the Mexican had fallen the two men rode in advance as there was a chance of the halfbreed showing fight if he had not been wounded seriously. Mason had no idea how badly he had been hurt, for he had paid little attention to him in his mad dash after Powers. Mason pointed out the spot to Scotty where the Mexican had fallen, but they could see no trace of him.
Josephine, who had drawn up to the group while they were discussing the possible escape of the halfbreed, suddenly remarked:
“Here comes Bud with Joe and the rest of the cowboys.”
The cowboys saw them at about the same time and with a rush and roar, bore swiftly down upon them.
There was an excited clamor of voices as the cowboys dismounted and rushed up to Josephine to shake her hand, each man with hat off and expressing his pleasure at her safe return in his own characteristic way.
Mason and Scotty came in for a generous round of hand-shaking and glory from the cowboys when Josephine told them of their part in her rescue.
Mason walked away from the group of cowboys and sought out Bud, to whom Josephine had immediately gone after greeting the cowboys.
Bud had been wounded in the shoulder and the girl was giving him a scolding for not having gone home at once to have his wound attended to. She was adjusting a crude bandage for him and it gave Mason a sharp pang as he realized that she was gravely concerned over Bud’s welfare. Mason briefly outlined the result of his chase to him, and of the possible escape of the halfbreed. Bud listened quietly until he had finished, then his jaws came together with a snap.
“You and Scotty take the girl home, and the men will stay here with me while we clean up and look into the matter of the halfbreed,” he directed Mason.
Josephine uttered a cry of protest.
“You’re not coming with us?” she asked in a pained voice.
“No,” Bud answered with an air of finality. “We have got some work to do here before we go and I want to see it through.”
Mason admired the grit of the man, for he reasoned that he must be suffering tortures from his wound by this time. The girl gave a sigh as Bud stalked off to give orders to his men, and Mason, watching her, felt convinced that she was in love with her father’s foreman. Soon, Scotty rode toward them on a fresh horse and they set a fast pace for home with Josephine leading and having little to say.
They arrived at the ranch in due time, and Mason had to turn his head away at the touching scene, when the girl burst into the house and into her mother’s arms. They were laughing and crying in the same breath, and the father had his arms around the two, wife and daughter.
The next minute the girl was romping with her dog Rover, and calling him endearing names. A tear glistened on the ranch owner’s cheek as he silently wrung Mason’s hand when Josephine told of his part in her rescue.
That night when Bud and his men returned, they reported that they could find no trace of the halfbreed. They believed that the Mexican with his wide knowledge of the mountains had probably escaped to some retreat.
A few days of rest and quiet were indulged in by the men who had followed the trail of the outlaws so determinedly.
One fine morning, Mason, who had found a shady spot on the porch and had lazily stretched himself out for a nap, found his plans rudely shattered by the mistress of the ranch herself. She came running out of the house and stood surveying him with an air of severity.
“I would like to know, Sir Jack, if you are in the habit of breaking your promises,” she demanded, trying to keep her look of severity while pointing an accusing finger at him.
Mason looked up at her in astonishment. “Why, Josephine, I don’t know what you are driving at,” he answered with a blank look. He thought he had never seen her look as pretty as she did this morning. She stood before him, her eyes fairly dancing with fun.
“Then, Sir, I will refresh your memory,” she began with increasing severity. “Did you or did you not promise me long, long ago to take me for a ride in that fast racing car of yours?”
Mason sprang to his feet.
“What a dunce I’ve been, Josephine,” he exclaimed. “We’ll go for a ride this very morning. What do you say?”
“I’ll say, I’ll go,” she answered with a happy laugh and ran to tell her mother.
Mason backed the trim racer out of the shed and had the motor running smoothly by the time Josephine rejoined him.
“My, but you make a lot of smoke and noise,” she cried, putting her fingers to her ears.
“Just racing the engine a little,” he explained, as the girl bent over to watch him adjust the gas mixture. “Jump in, we’ve picked as fine a morning as you’ll find in these parts,” he added gaily, as he lifted her into the seat with strong arms.
It was an ideal morning with a cool and gentle breeze blowing. Mason let the car out at high speed for several miles, then slowing down a little he turned and looked curiously at the girl beside him. She had not uttered a sound, but sat with parted lips smiling in contentment. Her golden hair blown and tumbled by the wind, and her blue-gray eyes sparkling with the joy of life and health, made her a most bewitching picture.
If she only knew how well he loved her, but with the thought came the image of Anderson who had first claim on her. He gripped the wheel savagely, a frown on his face. The girl was snuggled deep in the cushions.
“Oh, but this ride is fine,” she said in a low voice. Then noticing his frown she added quickly:
“What is the trouble, Sir Jack, didn’t your breakfast set well this morning?”
“Breakfast is the least of my troubles,” he answered, forcing a smile as he slowed the car down to about fifteen miles per hour.
He had much to say to her this morning, and had determined to tell her of his love. Josephine was rearranging her tumbled hair with deft fingers while watching him with an amused smile.
“There,” she said, putting the finishing touches to a rebellious curl. “I hope I look more presentable. You drove like a regular savage, Sir Jack, and you looked like a fiend a minute ago. Now, I can’t see why you should have any troubles, you are getting along fine out here. Perhaps you are worrying about that letter your father wrote to you about Ricker.”
She was regarding him with troubled eyes now, and he thought he detected a tender light in them. He longed to take her in his arms and cover her face with kisses, but crushed the thought out of his mind with a groan.
“Yes, that is one thing that bothers me, and by the way, I received a letter from mother; she and my sister will be out here in a few days,” his voice was steady and sure now.
“Oh, won’t that be grand?” she cried in delight. “I am very anxious to meet your mother and sister, Sir Jack.”
“Sis is a good kid, and I think you will like her. She is about your age, Josephine.”
“Oh, I know I will like your mother and sister just from what you have told me of them. Now, what other troubles have you got, if you can call your mother and sister a trouble?” She was leaning slightly toward him with a half smile mingled with a look of severity on her face.
He shifted uneasily in his seat.
“You have a regular lawyer’s way of pinning a man down to a question,” he said at last.
“Does the truth hurt?”
He had driven the car to one side of the trail and stopped the engine.
“Josephine!” Mason turned and faced her.
“Little girl,” he began and imprisoned both her hands. “It is you that is troubling me. Before I came out here I had been leading a fast life, and had seen bad girls and nice girls, but I never cared for any of them. I know, now, that I love you, Josephine, and I will tell you how I came to know the truth. I admired you from the first time we met, but it took another man to awaken me to the truth; I guess you know who I mean, his name is Anderson and I know you care for him. Please tell me, dear, if I have a chance.”
“I—I—don’t—just know,” Josephine faltered faintly. “I will think it over.”
“You give me a little hope, then?” he cried eagerly. “I won’t bother you about it again to-day, but may I have your permission to tell you how much I love you, some other time?”
“Yes,” she answered gently, “but come, Sir Jack, it’s not nice of you to keep me here all day; we started for Trader’s Post, you know.”
“Really, I had almost forgotten,” he said with a happy boyish laugh, “but we’re nearly there now. Sit tight and I’ll have you there in a jiffy, and then we will take the long road back.”
“But not quite so fast as you drove before, besides you promised to teach me how to drive,” she demurred, smiling at him naïvely.
Mason let the car out at a reasonable road speed and soon the outbuildings of Trader’s Post came into view. A moment later he drove up to the general store where Josephine wished to do some trading.
“This is the place where you rescued the fair Waneda,” she reminded him.
His face reddened.
“I still think the Spanish girl was made an innocent tool by Ricker’s gang and didn’t know what her message contained,” he answered in defence.
Josephine had one foot on the running board and flashed a tantalizing smile up at him.
“See if you can keep out of trouble, Sir Jack, while I am in the store. I will try to be quick,” and with a wave of her hand she disappeared inside.
Mason grinned broadly.
“If she is like most women when they go shopping, I will have some wait,” he mused to himself.
Swinging around in his seat he took to watching the four corners or common, which was all Trader’s Post could boast of.
There were a few people in sight, mostly cowboys, and as he looked, the only hotel in the place came under his observation. Suddenly he sat up stiff and straight, staring hard at the hotel porch. He had made out the figure of MacNutt and he was staggering with locked arms around another cowboy, who was maudlin drunk, and the other cowboy was from Ricker’s ranch!
A low whistle escaped his lips. All his former distrust for this man who called himself MacNutt came back to him with double force. He resolved to denounce MacNutt to the owner of Bar X when he got back to the ranch. He was interrupted in his meditations by Josephine. She came hurrying out of the store with her arms full of bundles and deposited them at his feet with a sigh of relief.
“I didn’t keep you waiting very long, did I?” she asked a little anxiously.
“Yes, I mean no,” he replied absently, still keeping his eyes on the two men.
“What are you staring at?” she questioned.
“Jump in and I will explain to you when we get under way,” he said, starting the car in motion.
“It’s about that man MacNutt,” he confided to her. “While you were in the store I happened to look over to the hotel, and there was MacNutt talking with one of the cowboys from the Ricker ranch. I never quite trusted the fellow from the start, and it looks mighty suspicious to see him mixing with that bunch.”
“It does look peculiar,” Josephine answered gravely. “He knows the Ricker crowd are enemies of my father. I don’t see what MacNutt would want of them.”
“Well, don’t worry your pretty head about it, and I will take the matter up with your father when we get back to the ranch. We are out on a pleasure trip to-day and I am going to teach you how to run this car before we get home.”
“You talk very confidently.”
“Is my confidence misplaced?”
She laughed easily.
“I never met a man like you before.”
“Nor have I ever met a girl like you before,” he returned instantly.
“Oh, come now, you will be trying to make love to me in another minute, and you promised to be good for the rest of the day. What is that thing-ama-jig on the dashboard?”
“That’s the instrument board,” he corrected her, “and what you are pointing at is the speedometer.”
Then he explained the various workings of the instruments to her. They had reached a part of the country that was clear and level for miles, and Mason let the trim racer dart ahead in a fresh burst of speed. Josephine had her eyes glued on the dial indicator and as the hand crept slowly up she saw that they had attained a speed of over fifty miles per hour.
“Slow down,” she managed to gasp, “I can’t talk to you when you drive so fast.”
He obediently slowed the car down.
“I can promise you some exciting times when my friend Roy Purvis gets here,” he said after a long silence.
“Roy Purvis,” she repeated after him, “I never heard you mention that name before.”
“He is an old friend of mine and we used to race together before he went in for aviation. He promised me just before I left New York that he would visit me out here.”
Little did they know what a thrilling part Roy Purvis and his airplane was to play in their future lives.
The girl was deeply interested in what Mason had told her.
“That will be jolly fun,” her eyes were keenly enthusiastic. “I have never seen an airplane, I hope he comes soon.”
Mason nodded.
“Roy is very eccentric, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see him out here any time.”
On the way home he stopped the car and let Josephine take his seat while he instructed her in driving. Soon she was driving the racer almost as skillfully as he.
After about an hour she became tired and he relieved her at the wheel.
“You have accomplished wonders with your first lesson,” he told her with honest conviction in his voice. “I am truly proud of you.”
“I am very glad you think so, and if you will take me out again some time, I think I can do still better.” He fancied there was just the suspicion of an appeal in her voice.
“The pleasure will be all mine,” he answered gallantly.
They were nearing the ranch now, and just as they rode past the corral they were surprised to see MacNutt throwing a blanket over his sweat-reeked horse.
Apparently he had ridden faster and by taking a shorter route had arrived just ahead of them.
The following morning, and before anybody was astir at Bar X ranch, the form of a man emerged from the bunkhouse and looking cautiously around to make sure that no one was watching him, stealing silently to the corral, he quickly roped and saddled one of the horses. It was MacNutt, and had any of the cowboys seen his face at that moment they would have been amazed. All trace of the half-wit smile had vanished, and in place of the drooping shoulders and shambling gait that had been characteristic of the man, he now moved with the cunning and quickness of a panther.
As his supple body shot into the saddle a pair of revolver butts were exposed to view for an instant. Whatever MacNutt’s mission was, the man was going heavily armed. He rode leisurely as though fearful the noise of his horse’s hoofbeats might strike the ears of some early prowler of the ranch.
When well clear of the outbuildings of the ranch he gave his horse free rein, riding with all the ease and grace of a cowboy. Ten miles from Bar X ranch the trail divided. One trail led to Trader’s Post and the other to Ricker’s ranch.
When MacNutt came to this point, he chose the trail leading to the Ricker ranch!
A grim smile spread over the man’s face.
“I don’t suppose it was necessary for me to sneak out in this fashion,” he spoke softly to his horse, “none of the Bar X outfit take me seriously, only young Mason. I will have to watch out for him, he’s liable to spoil my plans.”
His face grew dark and ominous at the thought. Having a fresh mount he pressed the horse on relentlessly as though to reach the ranch in time to keep an appointment. Time and distance passed swiftly beneath his horse’s pounding hoofs, and when within a few miles of Ricker’s ranch he carefully examined his guns to see if they were in good working order.
As he drew near Ricker’s ranch his tense muscles relaxed, the half-wit smile appeared and with it the awkward poise and drooping shoulders of the man MacNutt. Although he did not know it, his movements had been watched by a guard placed by Ricker.
This man swept the plains with field glasses and word was quickly sent to Ricker by the guard for instructions. He was promptly ordered to hold the rider up at any cost. Since the last time Ricker had been visited by the cowboys of the Bar X ranch, he swore an oath that no more of them should pass farther than a given spot and that was where he had placed the guard.
Ricker had picked a good man for the job, for when he was in a quandary as to who should hold the post, his eyes fell on one of his cowboys, Tug Conners by name, and he was placed about a hundred yards from the ranch where he could command a view of the plains in all directions.
Tug Conners was a daredevil and desperado who would shoot first and ask questions afterwards, and it was to this man that MacNutt would have to pass muster. The guard set himself and studied the rider through his glasses. The watcher swore softly. The slow gait of the horse and its rider’s awkward position in the saddle had him puzzled.
Twice he raised the rifle at his side and covered the stranger, only to lower it each time in disgust. Seizing the glasses again he tried to make out who the stranger was. An exclamation burst from his lips, for this time he had a close view of the rider.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” he swore furiously, “I remember that freak, he was with the sheriff when they made that call on Ricker. He looks like a damn fool and acts the part. Wonder what the tenderfoot can want here?”
Tug was bitterly disappointed as he had hoped the rider would prove to be one of the sheriff’s cowboys, and he would have started trouble with any of them at the slightest provocation. He hated them all intensely, but with this fellow it was different.
Tug couldn’t bring himself to pick trouble with a half-wit, so he determined to throw a scare into him and run him off the ranch.
He was crouched behind a small mound and as MacNutt came abreast his place of concealment he sprang up and covered him with his rifle.
“Stretch your arms!” Tug commanded him, his eyes glittering savagely, “I reckon this is about your limit. Who let you out, anyway?”
MacNutt’s hands went up with alacrity, and such a look of dismay spread over his features that he brought a grin to Tug’s face.
“Get down off that horse,” he next commanded him, keeping the rifle on a line with his heart.
“Don’t keep that cannon pointed at me, it makes me nervous,” protested MacNutt in a trembling voice as he laboriously dismounted.
“Oh, the gun makes you nervous, does it, tenderfoot?” Tug sneered with bitter sarcasm. “Well, it will go off mighty sudden if you don’t answer my questions right smart. You’re from Bar X, ain’t you? Who sent you here, and what do you want?”
MacNutt had apparently found his nerve again, the foolish smile appearing on his face.
“You fire your questions too fast,” he protested in his droll voice, and started to lower his hands.
“Keep ’em up!” his captor snarled, raising his gun threateningly.
MacNutt smiled at Tug blandly, his hands held high in the air.
“I rode over from the ranch to see one of Ricker’s men,” he explained with childlike simplicity. “Met him at the Post yesterday. He ain’t got no more use for the Bar X outfit than I have, and I agreed to put him wise to some things I know about them.”
Tug stared at him incredulously.
“What is the name of the cowboy you met yesterday?” he questioned, suspicion in his voice.
“I can’t remember his name,” MacNutt replied readily. “We were slopped up a little, but I can describe him.” This he proceeded to do, and evidently to Tug’s satisfaction.
“You mean Jean Barry,” he said in a modified tone when MacNutt had finished his description. “Come, and I’ll take you to him.”
A curious gleam shone in MacNutt’s eyes for an instant, as he was ordered by Tug to keep six paces in advance of him. On the way to the ranch house, a close observer would have noticed that not a single item of the plans of the buildings or out-houses of the ranch had escaped MacNutt’s notice. Although his eyes held their dull sleepy look, they sought out every object of importance. A group of cowboys were watching the approach and one of them walked out rapidly to meet them. He proved to be Ricker.
“What have we here, Tug?” he demanded, with a suspicious look at MacNutt.
“Claims he knows Jean Barry and wants to see him,” Tug answered tersely.
Ricker scowled darkly.
“Jean is down to the corral. Go get him and see if he knows this fellow,” he ordered Tug, while watching MacNutt sharply.
Tug soon returned in company with a cowboy.
“Jean, do you know this man?” Ricker question with a wave of his hand toward MacNutt.
“Shore, I know him, he’s all right,” the man Jean answered without an instant’s hesitation.
Ricker looked immensely relieved.
“All right, take him to the ranch and make him acquainted with the boys. I’ll hold you responsible for him. We are going to have rifle and revolver practice in a few minutes, maybe your friend would like to join us,” he said, addressing Jean and giving MacNutt another sharp look.
Just a fleeting gleam came into MacNutt’s eyes as he readily consented to join them. He was conducted to the ranch by Jean, Tug having gone back to his post. At the ranch he was presented to Waneda the Spanish girl and to the cook, an old Negress. It was his first opportunity to see Waneda at close range, and he studied her face intently although seemingly interested in what Jean was telling him about the target practice.
Finally Jean left him alone with the two women after saying he was going to help set up targets, and would let him know when they were ready.
MacNutt immediately drew the girl into a conversation after making sure he had nothing to fear from the old Negress, she being quite deaf. MacNutt had again thrown off his assumed role of a half-wit and was alert and thinking rapidly. The girl had noticed the change, and shrank back against the wall staring at him dumbly.
“I know you are a good girl, Waneda,” he was saying rapidly and in a low voice, “I can generally size a person up at first glance, and you have a good face. Now, I wish to clear my mind on one point: did you know the contents of the note you delivered to the Bar X ranch that sent the cowboys into the mountains after Powers and the half-breed?”
“No,” she answered guardedly, her eyes searching his face, eager to read his thoughts.
His face grew stern.
“I was almost sure of it, but your answer proves that point,” he said kindly, “still, that very note came near getting some good men killed. You like young Mason, don’t you?”
A startled cry escaped her lips. With a quick move she seized him by the arm.
“I love him! Is he in danger? Speak quick!”
MacNutt gently released her hold and placed a chair for her.
“Steady, girl,” he warned her; “no, he’s not in danger just now, but you are. This is no place for you, and I am going to get you out of here, but before that time comes you must help also, and in doing that you will be helping Mason, too.
“There’s going to be hell brewing around here before long. What do you suppose Ricker has that guard out there for? And this target shoot is for a purpose, too. I think I can trust you not to betray me, and you also will be able to prove your loyalty to Mason and wipe out the damage you caused by carrying that note.”
The girl was thoroughly aroused now.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her breath coming in quick gasps. “If Ricker finds out that you are against him, your life wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel!”
Jean Barry hurriedly entered the room at this moment and interrupted his talk with the girl. A lightning glance of understanding passed between the two men.
“I’ll be with you in a few minutes and join the men at the shoot,” MacNutt said rapidly in answer to an inquiring look from his friend.
Jean nodded, and was gone in the same hurried manner that he had entered the room.
MacNutt turned and looked gravely at the girl.
“Who are you?” she repeated impatiently.
“Your friend,” he answered earnestly; “that is all I can tell you at present, but you must trust me implicitly. Just go on here as before, and if Jean Barry tells you to leave this place at a certain time you must obey him, for he is working with me. If Jean comes to you for any information, give it to him if you can without causing suspicion. You will be helping me and Mason. I can trust you in this, can’t I?”
“You are a strange man,” she answered slowly, “but somehow I have confidence in you. I feel that this ranch is uncanny, and things are not as they should be. At night I hear strange sounds and men come and go at all hours. I am afraid of the men and especially of Ricker; he wants me to marry him and I hate him. The old Negress here has protected me from him many a time when he had been drinking. I wanted to leave here long ago, but I am afraid to leave for Ricker would find me again, and then even the Negress couldn’t save me. He is terrible when he is in a rage and the cowboys fear him too, for he is a dead shot and none of them would have a chance with him. I’ll trust you and do as you say.”
She had crept close to him while talking and her face was deathly pale.
Something like an oath escaped from MacNutt’s lips.
“Be brave,” he said, speaking earnestly. “It won’t be but a few weeks now before I will have you out of here, and maybe in a few days. Ricker is engaged in some lawless business besides mere cattle raising. He has a collection of the worst crooks in the country about him, and I mean to get to the bottom of his game.”
After saying a few more words of comfort to the girl, MacNutt strolled leisurely out and joined the party near the targets.
He had again assumed his slouching gait and halfwit smile. He was greeted indifferently by the cowboys, save by Ricker, who was again regarding him sharply. MacNutt returned the stare with his usual good-natured grin, while engaging Jean Barry in conversation.
“Watch sharp!” Jean Barry cautioned him.
“Ricker seems to suspect you for some reason and may put you to a severe test.”
MacNutt nodded and inclined his head slightly, as he noticed Ricker call one of his cowboys over to him. The man called by Ricker was his foreman, Jim Haley, the most expert shot on the ranch with the exception of Ricker himself. A low conversation took place between the two men.
“Jim, how long has Jean Barry been with us?” Ricker demanded of his foreman.
Tall and muscular, with deep cruel lines written on his face, Jim Haley the foreman turned and looked at the man in question.
“Oh, about a month, I reckon,” he replied, glancing quizzically at his chief.
The answer set Ricker’s brows to knitting.
“Jim, I want you to watch Jean Barry,” he said sharply, as though coming to a sudden decision. “He’s the last man we took on and hasn’t been with us long enough to be trusted too far. As for this man MacNutt, keep your eye on him also. He claimed to the guard that he isn’t friendly with the Bar X outfit and has a grievance against them. I can’t just make him out, and I want you to trail him after he leaves here and find out just what his standing is at Bar X. Jean took up with him mighty sudden, and I don’t like the looks of it. Look sharp now, and make your report to me in the morning.”
At the curt dismissal Jim Haley moved off while his chief mingled with the men and directed the rules of the target practice. MacNutt was ignorant of what had taken place and was calmly looking his guns over.
Jean Barry pressed close to him at this moment.
“Watch out for Jim Haley, the man that Ricker was just talking to,” he hissed in his ear.
MacNutt made no answer to his friend’s warning as the shoot had now commenced. The first contestants were leading off with revolver practice. The targets were set at seventy-five yards and each man was to fire six shots apiece. The men fired in turn, each scoring fair hits, until Ricker and Jim Haley’s turn came. When they had fired six shots apiece it was seen that they had each scored bull’s-eyes, and both had one shot on the extreme edge of the bull’s-eye. Ricker looked at his foreman.
“Guess we’ve got to shoot this one over, Jim,” he called, a trifle nettled.
He was conceded the best shot on the ranch, and it bothered his vanity to have his mark equalled. The marker was closely examining the targets.
“A tie,” he finally announced.
“Put up fresh targets, Jim, and I will shoot off the tie,” Ricker ordered briskly, “and put up another one; we’ll have our friend MacNutt here try his skill with us.”
Ricker and Jim shot their tie off, the former winning this time by a large margin.
Ricker smiled sarcastically at MacNutt as the latter stepped up in his awkward way to take a position. A titter ran through the group of cowboys as they watched his odd movements. He was likely to prove a source of amusement for them after all.
Ricker suddenly stepped forward.
“Come on, Jim, you and I will set a high record for him. We’ll show him some shooting that will make him go some,” he boasted.
Jim Haley led off, scoring almost the same hits as before.
“You must have your shooting eye with you today, Jim,” Ricker remarked as he took his position.
Then he put six bullets in the bull’s-eye, firing with a precision that was perfect.
“I’ll bet none of the Bar X outfit can equal that,” he boasted to MacNutt with a cynical smile.
MacNutt still wore his good-natured grin.
“Maybe not,” he drawled, “but I ain’t shot yet.”
A howl of derision went up from the cowboys.
“Go ahead and shoot, you tenderfoot,” one of them yelled.
Suddenly MacNutt’s hand went up, and he fired six shots in rapid succession; so rapid was the fire that the reports blended together. All the cowboys were grinning broadly, for it looked as though MacNutt had fired at random. Their faces took on a look of wonder, however, when it was seen that the marker was examining the target with extreme care.
“All bull’s-eyes!” he announced as though completely mystified.
Ricker swore roughly.
“Come on, Jim,” he called out impatiently, “that marker’s eyes must be off.”
There was a general rush for the targets, and an exclamation of admiration went up from the cowboys when it was seen that MacNutt’s bullets were grouped closer to the center of the bull’s-eye than were Ricker’s.
“He’s a freak,” Jim Haley spoke up sullenly.
“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” Ricker questioned MacNutt sharply. “Can you do as well with a rifle at two hundred yards?”
MacNutt grinned modestly.
“I reckon I can,” he drawled slowly. “I’ve shot a revolver and rifle ever since I was a kid.”
A rifle shoot was next in progress, but MacNutt declined to wait for that event. Soon, he took his leave after saying a few words in an undertone to his friend Jean Barry. The cowboys watched him depart with keen interest. He had risen several points in their estimation by his accurate shooting.
As he drew near the place where Tug Conners had held him up, he saw the guard leaning on his rifle, watching him approach.
“Guess I can pass you through quicker next time you visit us,” Tug called after him as he rode past. “If you see one of our men at the Post, tell him to hurry up for I sent him to bring me some tobacco.” “I sure will,” he answered cheerfully. “I am going back that way and if I see your man I’ll hustle him along.”
“Yes, you certainly will pass me through quicker when I call on you next time, my friend,” he added grimly to himself as he rode steadily on.
In due time he arrived at the Post, where he spent about two hours looking after some private business and making a few necessary purchases. As he mounted his horse for the run to Bar X he was surprised to see Jim Haley lounging on the hotel veranda.
“He must have followed me,” he mused, a grin playing over his features. “The play is on in earnest.”
He looked around to see if the cowboy’s horse was in sight. Seeing no signs of the animal he decided that the cowboy had put his horse in the hotel corral.
MacNutt soon forgot the incident and riding fast he arrived at Bar X before nightfall.
The first person he encountered after putting his horse up was Mason.
Mason looked at him with accusing eyes.
“MacNutt,” he began, “I want to have a quiet little talk with you. I haven’t as yet said anything to anybody else, but it looks to me as if you are trying to play a double game. Yesterday, I saw you talking in very friendly terms with one of the cowboys from the Ricker ranch. Several other little things have happened since you came here that have made me suspicious of you. You know these are troublesome times. I want to ask you point blank, are you with us, or do you stand with the Ricker faction?”
MacNutt had listened passively while Mason was talking. He seemed deeply moved.
“I know these are troublesome times as you say,” he replied earnestly, “but I want you to trust me a little longer and then I will show you something that will surprise you. I am here for a good purpose and am working for the interest of the Bar X people and you in particular. I take you to be a man of sound judgment and give you my word of honor that I am working here for a good cause. In due time I will explain everything that appears mysterious to you just now, and I want you to have faith in me. Is that satisfactory to you?”
“I suppose it will have to be,” Mason answered, completely mystified.
Two days later unusual scenes of activity took place at Bar X ranch. There was a general brightening and cleaning up about the place. Cowboys were industriously cleaning horses and polishing saddle accoutrements. The ranch-house was being vigorously cleaned and aired. The reason for all this extra work was a telegram that Mason was reading for perhaps the hundredth time. He whistled gaily as he thrust the telegram back in his pocket and started to tune up his racing car.
The day before, Scotty had ridden in from the Post with a telegram for Mason. When he read its contents he gave a cry of delight. It was from his sister and stated that she was coming with his mother to pay him a visit and they were bringing along a friend of the family for company. The telegram had been dispatched from a town where the party had a stopover and Mason hastily consulting a time-table found that they would arrive at the Post the next day.
The good news had banished all thoughts of MacNutt and his strange actions from his mind.
Scotty had immediately been sent back to the Post to await their arrival.
Mason had broken the news to Josephine and they planned to drive the car to Trader’s Post early the next morning. The girl’s face was all aglow at the prospect of meeting his folks. She had assumed command of the ranch, making the cook brighten up about the bunk-house and mess-room while giving orders to the cowboys about their general unclean appearance that made them gasp in wonder. Mason had come in for his share of the cleaning-up process and after seeing the entire ranch force set in motion, he meekly submitted.
So the next morning after an almost sleepless night found him hard at work on his racing car. He was so deeply interested in his work that he didn’t hear a light step near him until a subdued ripple of laughter caused him to look up in surprise. The mistress of the ranch stood before him and was regarding him with a look of approval. He made her a profound bow.
“Oh, most charming slave-driver, does my work please the little Princess?” he questioned her with mock humility.
Her eyes held him with a smile.
“The machine certainly looks more presentable,” she returned in the same light vein.
She gave the car another sharp appraising look, and glanced at him.
“And you look as though you had tried to clean it, from the appearance of your face and those dirty overalls,” she added.
The smile had cropped out again and with it the appearance of the pretty dimples he secretly adored.
“I confess I do look like a coal heaver,” he said, starting up briskly, “but I’ve had the engine running like a top and it is in fine shape. I will have these duds off and be cleaned up in about a minute. Please run along now, Josephine, and get ready. I will drive right up to the house for you.”
Josephine had already started for the house.
“I will be ready and waiting for you, Sir Jack,” she called back to him as he stood watching her trim figure until she disappeared in the house.
Five minutes later Mason was speeding along the trail with Josephine beside him in the low seat of his powerful racer. She was in high spirits as usual, but seemed to be in a meditative mood. He stole a glance at her to find her eyes searching his face with an odd expression in them.
“I am puzzled and curious to see that third party my sister is bringing with her,” he said, breaking a long silence.
She nodded.
“I was thinking of about the same thing. I hope your mother and sister will like me,” she said wistfully.
He laughed outright.
“So, that is what you are worrying your pretty head about. Well, I will answer for mother, and as for sis, she will take to you like a duck does to water.”
“Do you really think so?” there was a little catch to her voice.
“I know so.” There was a positive ring to his voice.
Josephine looked pleased.
“I am glad to hear you say that. I was afraid your sister would be such a fine lady and wear such grand clothes that I would appear like a savage to her, and you know we are kind of wild and woolly out here.”
“Well, you will get the surprise of your young life, then,” he declared. “Sis is athletic, and plays tennis and baseball just the same as I do, and I know you two will be chums from the minute you meet.”
Josephine was silent in thought, but he could see there was a pleased look on her face. They had been making fast time, and already the outbuildings of Trader’s Post were plainly visible.
A few minutes later Mason drove into the town and stopping at the hotel inquired for Scotty. He was informed that Scotty had left an hour ago for the small station four miles distant, as the train was about due. Scotty had put up at the hotel over night and naturally would be fresh for the long trip back to the ranch. His wagon would accommodate four people, and the plan was to have Mason’s mother and the mysterious third party ride to the ranch with Scotty while Mason was to take his sister and Josephine in his car. Mason broke all speed limits for the four miles, and when they drove up to the small station in a cloud of dust, Scotty waved at them from the platform. He was grinning broadly, and Mason was keenly amused when Josephine hastened over and surveyed him critically. There was a pleased smile on her face.
“Scotty, I see that you have obeyed my instructions and haven’t drunk anything,” she said kindly, while shaking his hand.
“Nope,” he answered, beaming on her. “I reckon a man would be plumb crazy that didn’t try to please you.”
“You won’t lose anything by doing as I want you to, Scotty. Oh, I hear the whistle of the train!”
She seized Mason by the arm and they took a position on the platform. There was the same old stage that had carried him to Trader’s Post, and the same talkative driver. Mason peered anxiously as the train came to a stop with a shrieking and grinding of brakes, and as the passengers began to get off, he strode forward eagerly as he made out the familiar face of his sister Ethel. She caught sight of him at the same instant.
“Jack!” she gasped, as he nearly swung her off her feet.
“Where is mother?” he demanded, holding her at arm’s length.
“Right behind you, stupid,” she managed to say when she had got her breath back. “And allow me to introduce Mr. Percy Vanderpool.”
Mason kissed his mother and turned to acknowledge the introduction. Percy Vanderpool. Then his eyes twinkled and he had to force back a laugh of merriment.
So this was the third party. Percy was a fop, but he came from a very aristocratic family. Mason had known of him through some of the New York clubs which he held membership in. He had nothing against the fellow, only his fondness to ape English ways and wear loud clothes.
Percy was dressed in a loud checkered suit and Mason grinned in his face as he shook hands. His hand had a decided feminine touch and Mason chuckled as he thought of the amusement he would provide for the cowboys. Josephine had held back, but now Mason caught her hand and drew her into the group.
“Mother, I wish to introduce you and sis to a real Western girl, Miss Josephine Walters,” he said.
Ethel put her arms around Josephine and kissed her. “I feel that I have known you for a long time, dear,” she said sweetly. “Jack has written home about you in all his letters and urged me to visit you.”
Josephine’s face was radiant, while she could only stammer a few words as she was introduced to Mason’s mother and Percy Vanderpool. Mason took the situation in hand by rounding up Scotty and introducing him to his folks. The cowboy stood fingering his hat while his face grew red with embarrassment.
He shifted his feet awkwardly as Mason introduced him to Percy Vanderpool and Mason tried hard to keep back a smile when he noticed a blank look spread over the cowboy’s face as he sized Percy up.
Ethel soon put the cowboy at ease by chatting with him in her friendly way, and won his eternal friendship by praising up Nevada climate and the healthy condition of her brother Jack.
“Break away, you two,” Mason cut in with a laugh. “Sis, you will have Scotty hypnotized in another minute. I have arranged to have you ride to the ranch with Josephine and myself, while Percy and mother will ride with Scotty. I know that mother doesn’t like to ride fast, and I can easily take you in my car. Will that plan suit you, mother?”
“You know it will, son,” she answered.
“Yes,” Ethel said in a bantering tone, “you know that mother never could get used to your reckless driving, but I’m willing to risk my neck, and if anything happens you will have two victims to haunt you.”
“Oh, come now, sis, I’m not as reckless a driver as that,” he protested, grinning broadly as he noticed a long look on the cowboy’s face.
Scotty had evidently expected Ethel to ride with him for his face showed disappointment.
“It seems a shame,” Josephine spoke up, “to go on and leave Mrs. Mason. Scotty won’t get to the ranch before nightfall. I’ve a notion to ride with Scotty and keep her company.”
“No, my dear,” Mrs. Mason interposed hastily, “I will enjoy this ride to the ranch. You young folks go ahead in the car. I will sleep better to-night after a long ride in the air, as my head aches from riding in hot, stuffy trains.”
Mason bundled his sister and Josephine into his car.
“You will have plenty of time to reach the ranch before dark, Scotty,” he called back to the cowboy as he started his racer off with a rush.
They passed through Trader’s Post at a more moderate speed, as Mason wanted his sister to get a good look at the town.
“It isn’t much of a place,” Josephine confided to Ethel in an apologetic voice, “but we do about all our trading there.”
“Oh, I think this country is great. I haven’t been away from New York in a long time and this vacation will do me good,” Ethel answered enthusiastically.
She looked curiously at her brother.
“Now, what are you grinning about, Jack?” she demanded.
“I was wondering where you picked it up,” he said, his face now sober as a deacon.
“It, what?” she queried, her eyes wide in astonishment.
“Why, Percy Vanderpool, of course. Did he wish himself on you, or did you invite him out here? I have seen him at the clubs in New York, and he was noted for a brainless wonder although he traveled in the best of society.”
“I was surprised and humiliated by your actions at the station, brother,” she said reprovingly, “why, you actually laughed in his face.”
“Couldn’t help it,” he confessed ruefully, “Percy is a regular freak, and I wish you would tell me how he came to be with you and mother.”
“Don’t be too hard on the poor fellow, Jack,” his sister retorted, “he was very kind and obliging to us on the trip and we were glad to have his company on the long ride out here.
“You see, it was this way, his father knows Dad well, and hearing we were going to Nevada his father asked Dad if he could take the trip with us. Percy had just recovered from a long illness, and the doctor ordered a change of climate for him.
“Dad asked us if we cared to have Percy go with us, and we gave our consent as it is a long trip for two women to take alone. Percy is really a good fellow, only as you say, he has more money than brains.
“He intends to stay at the hotel after to-night, but he thought it would be abally good chance, as he put it, to see this part of the country.”
Josephine had been an interested listener.
“We couldn’t think of having Mr. Vanderpool stay at the hotel among total strangers,” she said warmly, “there is plenty of room at our ranch, and I think it will be great fun to have him with us.”
“You girls can settle it between yourselves,” Mason ventured with an air of resignation. “If you are satisfied to have him stay at the ranch I guess I can stand his company, but the cowboys sure will have fun with him.”
“Jack, watch where you’re going,” his sister cried, as the car gave a wide lurch and nearly went off the trail.
He pulled the racer back onto the trail with a master hand and cut down his speed a trifle.
“Anyone would think that you were jealous of Percy, the way you talk,” she added, giving Josephine a nudge.
He laughed heartily.
“Come now, sis, don’t accuse me of that; I want something to get jealous over first.”
A general laugh followed his remark, but the girls could see that he was a little nettled over his sister’s teasing. Josephine changed the subject by drawing Ethel’s attention to the nature of the country they were passing through. The city girl was deeply interested in the seemingly never ending chain of mountains in the distance, and expressed her admiration for the beautiful valleys and mountains in glowing terms. Soon, they fell to talking of city society and the prevalent fashions in gowns, while Mason turned his attention to getting more speed out of his motor. A feeling of contentment seized him now that his sister was with him, and he was positive she would be able to explain more fully the enmity that existed between his father and Ricker. It was all a confused muddle to him, and as his thoughts ran in this channel it put a damper on his spirits. They had struck a better stretch of road and he turned his attention once more to the girls at his side. One glance at their smiling faces quickly dispelled all his gloom. They were nearing the ranch now and Josephine was pointing out points of interest to the city girl, who was showing lively interest in everything.
“We are pretty close to home now, girls,” Mason said with a smile, “I trust you have enjoyed the ride, and have no broken bones?”
“You drove fine, Sir Jack,” Josephine spoke up; “drive right up to the house and I’ll make your sister acquainted with my folks while you are putting the car up.”
Mason unloaded his fair passengers at the ranch door after first promising Josephine to make haste in putting the car up as she wanted him to accompany them for a brief walk around the ranch. They were somewhat cramped and lame from the long ride and felt that a walk would do them good. It was still early in the afternoon and they would have time to show his sister about the ranch before Scotty arrived with his passengers. Josephine had asked Ethel as they were entering the house if she was tired, and the prompt answer she received to the contrary was proof of Mason’s assertion that his sister was athletic and strong. Josephine’s heart warmed to the city girl for she admired strength and ruggedness, she herself being practically born in the open air.